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mysteria157 · 25 days ago

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Pairing: Demon! Nanami Kento x Angel Black!Fem Reader

Rating/CW: grey morality, religious undertones, corruption kink, worship, power dynamics (subtle fem submission), monsterfucking, smut, tongue fingering, pronged tongue, vaginal sex, oral (f! receiving), mild blood/biting. MDNI!

Summary: The thick muscle of your wings press against cold ancient stone as he circles you with wicked, stone-faced intent. Glimmering obsidian fingers trace along your feathers until they quiver--fluttering with touch-starved bliss no angel should ever feel. It's forbidden--this sensation in your belly, this humiliating slick between your legs that be can smell, this overwhelming desire that you've spent eons trying to quell.

But now, trapped before a demon so captivating that you can't help but feel equally terrified and dreadfully aroused, reality burns your skin like the holy water that bubbles whenever it's within your reach.

You're not here to serve a divine purpose--you're an offering. And only Heaven knows if you'll fall to your knees before him, begging for corruption.

Author Notes: Here it is! My submission for @tsukimefuku 's Spookinky event! I had so much fun writing this. Thank you, Fuku, for hosting such an awesome event, and I truly apologize for the filth (I do not apologize). Thank you all for your support, and thank you, @aliasnnmknt, for letting me use your art for my banner and helping me create it. Your art really inspired most of this fic!

Header: art by @aliasnnmknt | Divider: @arcielee @enchanthings | network tag: @pixelcafe-network

JJK Masterlist | Twitter | Ao3

You’ve never set foot in a demon’s realm.

You’ve heard the stories—flames that burn flesh from bone, screams that echo for eternity, demons that feast on corrupted souls. For the many eons that you have been in existence, the pristine light you thrive in tells enough horrid stories to keep you away.

You do what you can to show you are pure in your thoughts and heart and that you will walk the line given to make the one above you proud in His selection of you. You’ve done well. It’s why you’ve been given this task—a pilgrimage to a sacred altar within this dark realm, to find the relic it holds and be promised enlightenment and a deeper connection to your spiritual life. For once, you feel special. You are special.

The relic you search for holds ancient divine text that the Heavens would like to make sure does not fall into the wrong hands. Your ability to decipher that text and other old tongues made you the perfect choice—though you try not to question why that ability exists at all. This mission feels important and they insisted you were the perfect choice. Your gifts would serve the greater good. Serve Him.

Maybe that’s why they sent you alone. A single angel, moving quietly through dark territory, would draw less attention than an entire group.

Finally, after so many years of wary glances and hushed concerns. Your many ‘gifts’ that have set you apart—the way ancient texts rearrange themselves under your touch, how you see patterns in chaos that other angels cringe from, your thirst for knowledge that shouldn’t be explored. Finally, it’s all paid off.

Or…at least that’s what they told you. Even as something in your grace whispers warnings you choose to ignore.

Angels bask in absolutes, in the pure warmth of divine light and the straightforward clarity of purpose. There is certainty in right and wrong, never a grey in between. Your wings should bask in holy breeze, not in this thick air that tastes of dreadful sin.

You expected the realm to smell of death and destruction, to look as if every natural disaster had run through the land so the shadows could roam freely to commit sin. It’s what you’ve been taught at least. This Realm specifically is forbidden and faith has been used as a boundary to keep other angels in line.

The outskirts of this realm is covered in a haze, a thick russet fog that smells of ozone and decaying flowers. It settles on your skin like an uncomfortable garment, scratching the surface and burning your dermis. Your wings curdle in pain, burning to ash and regrowing through your bleeding muscles. Gnarled, skeletal trees reach up like claws, the birds that sit on their branches malnourished and dying. Distantly, you hear the constant drip of water from a faucet, yet there is no water in sight. Whispers of sin and moans of agony carry on the wind.

Your white dress flows like liquid moonlight, now stained with ash and ember burns. The neckline dips lower than most angels would prefer.

“To be comfortable in the vessel He gave you is to honor His creation.”

Is what they had said, their justification now seems like a cruel irony as the fog caresses your exposed cleavage with burning fingers. The bottom of your dress trails on the ground as you walk, the dirt burning with red soil that seeps through the toes of your bare feet. It feels as if you’re walking on hot coals, the heat burning the fabric of your hem in tendrils of smoke.

You knew to expect this pain, but it’s different. There is a calculated precision to it, intentional in how it burns you as if testing if your form is solid, if your soul is worthy of corruption. The bell sleeves of your gown flutter in a nonexistent wind, ash and soot collecting in the folds of fabric that they once praised as divine elegance.

Your eyes burn, tears streaking melanin-soaked skin that cannot absorb the shrouded sun up above. As you navigate blindly through the oppressive haze, the shadows around you morph with the darkness and skitter past you on multiple hands and contorted feet.

An infinitesimal part of your grace shivers in fear. It’s small yes, pushed away and ignored like you have been taught, but it’s there in the quickening of your pulse and the break of sweat on your neck, it’s there as you walk further through the vicious landscape of horror and pain, as you try to ignore the gurgling of what you do not know from all around you.

Your wings curl around your body, a small gesture of protection that you fall into when the fog gets thicker. It slides languidly up your nostrils and down your throat, catching along the corners. You cough, sputtering wildly through ash and decay, your eyes bubbling with more burning tears. That fear flickers again in your chest and wiggles like a worm in search of moist dirt in your rib cage.

You can do this. You have been chosen. Your lips curl and part as you recite your prayer in silence, asking for strength even as your fear climbs higher to the surface of divine worship.

Then—through burning tears, you see it. A path of pure obsidian that cuts through the horror, its surface covered in a thin layer of water that reflects starlight not in the skies above. Your feet pick up in pace, moving before conscious thought, drawn to its dark beauty and vast difference of the world around. The moment your toes dip into the water-slicked stone, the moisture sliding off your skin without wetting it, everything changes.

The burning on your skin and feathers stops. The pungent fog parts like a curtain and dissipates into the air. You pull in a deep breath, savoring the thickness that is no longer there, your throat coated in clean oxygen. Your dress, moments ago stained with ash and fiery burns, returns to its pristine white. Once the tears in your eyes clear, you take in the changed landscape.

Perhaps the realm only transforms if one gets this far, because now there is no destruction but a defiance of what you see. The sky is tinged a permanent grey, overcast even though there’s a warmth to the low hang of the clouds. There are no lakes of fire, and the ground beneath your feet is no longer hot with clay-colored dirt that seeps between your toes. The obsidian path winds before you through tall garden walls of pearly white flowers, the leaves pitch black instead of earthly green.

Above the dark canopy of the garden walls, a monolith looms tall, piercing the grey sky as if demanding to be let into the heavens. It’s built to resemble a vast tree, its surface rippling with starlight, the bright core pulsing like a heartbeat, beckoning you deeper into this realm of misconstrued beauty. The garden path must lead to it. Even the pearly white flowers weaved into the walls all point forward, ushering you on.

Your wings furl closer to your spine as you shuffle to one of the garden walls, hesitantly reaching for the flowers twined in the vines and leaves. It’s a beautiful white, with small petals that curl toward a sage core. They’re littered along the walls, a beautiful landscape against darkness but the closer you get, the more you realize—

Hemlock

A poisonous flower, the symbol of death, betrayal, and sacrifice. It sits in it’s refined beauty, enhancing the black leaves around you, but they are just as dangerous.

You snatch your hands away as if stung, clutching the fabric of your dress like a lifeline. You try not to think about how the hemlock watches you with pale eyes. You try not to think about what they represent. You try not to question why these flowers would point and line a path to the divine relic you seek.

With every step you take, the pulsing from the monolith in the distance vibrates through the ground, the water rippling currents with each beat. The obsidian path narrows, forcing your wings closer to your body, your arms so close to the deadly blooms. The garden walls rise higher, leaves trembling in that same empty breeze.

While the air no longer feels thick, it is heavy with a taste both nonexistent and flavorful. Flavored with the knowledge you seek when others do not look and secrets that make your eyes linger even as your grace warns you against it. The questioning urges of your nature that Heaven always tries to quell stir awake like a beast being poked after centuries of rest.

You should ignore it. You should ask for forgiveness and count the blessings you have been given in this long existence. But your heart leaps at the chance you have also been given, right now.

The monolith’s base reveals itself slowly, the garden walls parting gradually with dark promise. Your breath catches at the sight—this is no crude demon architecture. The structure rises before you like an otherworldly giant, jet black vines weaving within its bright innards.

You’re struck by the beauty of it all, a resplendent sight that you never imagined would bless your eyes. And as you draw closer, the glass obsidian floors open up before you. From the open floor, a column of marble rises, its surface bleached bone and covered in aging vines and greenery.

On that altar, rests the relic you seek. It is no crystal that contains energy to create vasts universes. It is no seed that once planted will wreak destruction with its pollination. It is no amulet capable of manipulating time.

It is a book.

A single book that is thick with words of forbidden knowledge, its cover worn and weathered from eons of hiding in the shadows, its pages yellowing along the edges.

Such a simple relic, but you feel it’s dark power from your spot at the altar.

You’ve been tasked to tuck it away and sneak back to Heaven, to deliver it to your superiors and be given your eternal reward. While simple in theory, your hands hover over it, hesitating with shaky fingers.

Do not open it.

Do not look at it for longer than necessary.

Do not look inside.

These are your rules—your absolutes. And yet…

Your fingers twitch, reaching and pulling back at the elusive call of the tome, your feathers trembling with a desire you shouldn’t feel. Your eyes burn with tears of veneration as the symbols on the worn leather illuminate and rearrange before your eyes like dancing embers, the translated text reading in your mind like an endless scroll.

Do not look at it for longer than necessary.

You snatch it up, pressing it to your chest as a means to stop your racing heart. Your soul palpitates with want, a baseless need to curl your fingers under the lips of the book and tilt it open.

It’s temptation, that festering desire that always seems to coil in your belly when the explanations you are given never feel right, when the world around you seems too pristine and you want to know more, when you linger in the mortal realm, watching the humans with a curious eye that is more than what is required of you.

It’s quick and on a whim, you pulling the book from your chest to look down at it, as if by looking it will answer the questions you seek. You trail your fingers along it’s ancient skin, soft and unmarred fingertips feeling along ridges and scars along the cover. It looks as if the relic has gone through it’s own personal Hell, no doubt jerked around from realm to realm over the centuries, pried open and its secrets stolen. There’s a faint beat of sadness that you feel in your chest at the thought of what it must have gone through.

But your fingers still finger beneath the lid, the worn pages jagged on your tips as you worry it up with a slow movement.

Do not open it.

You squeeze the tome, pressing the pages inside more into each other in a silent attempt to seal it and your temptation away forever. Your toes curl into the water beneath you, cold on your skin but still passing over you dry and without moisture.

But once again you catch yourself loosening your grip, your fingers adventurous, your mind begging for more and it’s right here.

In times like these, you find yourself turning to the one manifestation that has never answered you, but exists in your very being.

“Father,” you whisper, voice shaking. “Give me the strength against temptation.” Your wings draw tight, your spine aching from the sudden action, before they expand in a glorious span, feathers opening like extended fingers before they curl around you to shield you from your own curiosity. “Guide me from this darkness, keep my thoughts pure…”

But even as you pray, your body rebels—your fingers part a page and slide along the rough texture of papyrus. There’s a power to the book now, a deep pulse that seems to be in rhythm with the monolith, beckoning you further. The ancient text burns brighter, the translated words whispering in your ears to give in just this once—look inside, soak in your knowledge, seek what others deny.

Your lips quiver, eyes burning with unshed tears at the way your body betrays you. You’re no better than a fallen angel, than a demon or a human who walks the path of darkness—easily tempted and consumed.

You’re not damned, you’re not, you’re not—

“What do we have here?”

The voice slides through your tumultuous thoughts like silk, rich with bored amusement and something darker. Your prayers die in your throat, catching along the edges of your esophagus, your body icing over with a chill of what you try to rebuke as fear.

You’re not alone and you knew the dangers of wandering this realm so freely. You call upon your grace, manifesting a celestial dagger of light and purity, before you whirl around to face the demon who pursues you.

But you’re met with nothing—just the empty garden path you came from.

When you turn back to the altar, your scream catches in your throat.

He stands with casual power and predatory grace. His skin is a pitch lighter than the obsidian paths, but still scattered with constellations. His hair falls in golden-blonde waves, the ends touched with flame that frames sharp features and elegant black horns that curl from the top of his head. His eyes are a burning yellow, studying you with a calculating hunger that makes you shiver.

He stands tall, an inhuman height that makes you feel incredibly small, his wings the color of dark flames spread lazily behind him, their edges flickering with crimson light.

The armor that adorns his upper body is otherworldly and crafted not by divine or mortal hands—navy as dark as night, trimmed with gold that wraps around his shoulders and sides, his chest bare. His hip rests against the altar as if he owns it, expectant like he’s been waiting for you.

He’s beautiful, a manifestation of dark and light, a being that walks his own line not predetermined. As you study him, something tugs at your memory—flashes of encounters that have grown fuzzy over time. In the mortal realm, when you linger in the shadows to observe the humans, a tall figure in navy and tan, warm eyes hidden behind glasses with no arms, hair not tipped with flame but parted clean and tucked behind his ears.

He lingers in the darkness, in damp alleys and abandoned buildings where misery and pain give birth to grotesque figures that terrorize the mortals. You’ve seen him—or you think you have—convinced it was a coincidence and ignored the way your wings would shiver at his distant presence, tilting toward him as if searching for someone lost.

And in your dreams too—dreams of large hands filled with experiences of the world, of whispers in your ear of eternal knowledge. You’d wake with your grace trembling, convinced it was just your mind playing tricks even as the apex of your thighs trembled with the sheen of your sweat and forbidden essence.

Perhaps that’s why your superiors ask for you after these dreams. Perhaps that’s why they press their fingers to your temples and bury the memories deep. So you do not have to worry. So that you can resist temptation. Right?

Yes. All of it is a temptation to test your faith.

But now he stands before you, solid and real, and those ‘coincidences’ suddenly feel intentional. Had he been watching? Waiting for this very moment?

You adjust your grip on your dagger, forcing away those thoughts that never seem to go away. You stagger backwards, your celestial dagger shaking in your hands, your prayer wielded before you like a shield.

“Our Father who art in Heaven,” you whisper, desperate words that feel as if they fall on closed ears, your fear radiating from your bare toes, through the strong muscles of your white wings, and up to the top of your skull. “Hallowed be thy—”

The demon moves towards you now, each step gobbling the distance between your retreating form until your back hits the garden wall, a gasp dying in your throat.

“That name,” he murmurs, sultry low as he cages you with muscular arms, “holds no power here.” His eyes drag down your form, cataloging you bit by bit, lingering on the sight of a shaking chest that is pressed to the tome you clutch.

He leans in close, too close, until you feel the burning heat from his skin. You press your back harder against the garden wall, dark leaves and hemlock brushing along your cheeks and neck as he inhales deeply along the column of your throat.

He smells like the archives you lose yourself in, like the green tea you love to drink in the mortal realm, like a dark concoction of burning honey that would make the noses of other angels crinkle but your nostrils open to inhale more. Your divine senses blur.

This is temptation, you tell yourself as your wings putter against the wall behind you. You’ve practiced for this, you know what you should do. But your body betrays you, your head tilting slightly before you can think about it, offering more of your neck for his inspection.

Horror at your sin, ice cold as it washes over you, makes you act. You press your celestial dagger upward, against his bare chest where one particular constellation burns brighter than the rest.

But the blade dissolves like sugar in the rain the moment it touches him, holy light scattering for a home as it shimmers across his skin to form new constellations.

“How interesting…” The deep voice inquires, hot as it puffs on your neck. “An angel, stealing what does not belong to them. Surely there’s a rule about that, is there not?”

You clutch the tome tighter to your chest, your mouth opening to snap that this is your mission, your divine purpose. But the book vanishes from your grip in black tendrils of smoke, your hand smacking into your breasts from the gap created.

“Give it back!” Panic rises in your throat as you try to meld with the leaves behind you, your fingers wrapping around vines and leaves like a vice.

A sigh, long and drawn out as if mentally exhausted, as if this isn’t the first this has happened, leaves his giant form and travels over your body.

“No, I don’t think I will,” he drawls, pushing off the wall and walking away as if your presence means nothing. He turns to face you at the altar, eyes half-lidded as he rests his forearms on the marble surface and opens the tome that is now manifested in his hands. He’s giving off every impression that the relic you seek will not be going home with you, and he is more than prepared to read it all until you go away.

“W-well, you…” you trail off, your eyes flickering to the open book in his hands. You can’t see the words inside, but you can practically smell the papyrus, a smell that warms you when you trail your fingers along the archives in Heaven. You tighten your grip on the leaves, flexing your wings to extend in a display of dominance, even though it feels as if this demon has read you the moment you stepped into this realm.

The tome sits like an infant in his hands, small and precious as he turns a page, long galaxy shimmered fingers gliding along the text as he reads. That curiosity beckons, a familiar pulse of sin that fires along the nerves in your legs to take a step toward him, to peak over the edge of the book and look inside.

“Demon,” you press, swallowing a lump of your frayed nerves.

His eyes flicker up at you, burning gold irises mildly offended.

“That is not my name.” He turns another page, pulling his gaze away from you, dismissive. “Though, I suspect you already know what it is.”

Why would you know his name? While the sight of him invokes some distant memories, you both have never spoken. The confusion mixes with your flood of panic, your eyes locked on the ancient text in his hands.

“I don’t—I’m here on divine purpose. The Heavens sent me to deliver this relic.”

“They sent you to steal this relic,” he corrects. He slams the tome closed, the sound making you flinch before he walks back to you in casual strides, his form almost gliding on the obsidian floors.

“I would not steal.”

“Coming to a place without invitation and taking the items inside is, indeed, stealing.”

You sink back into the flowers as he draws closer, your heart pumping erratically in your chest, your limbs filling with shame at the logic he draws. But still, you resist.

“I was invited.”

You’ve always been around to see the return of angels from long missions where they are surrounded by darkness and pain. They seem so strong, their chests puffed in pride, their wings shining brighter as a badge of honor. There’s a bravery that you wish you could have right now. But you’re afraid—whether that fear is pure or mixed with something sensual and dangerous—you still don’t know.

“I-I was chosen,” you insist, despite what you feel.

“Oh, I’m sure you were.” His head tilts as he regards you.

The book disappears from his hands before materializing in your own, warm smoke wrapping around your wrists before dissipating. “Take it. Return to your divine purpose.”

You clutch the tome, hoping for relief to fill your wings, but you can only feel disappointment instead. You hesitate, flickering your gaze up to the demon who stands expectantly with arms crossed, like he knows what the outcome will be. Like he knows you will be back.

You turn around and flea down the obsidian path. The garden walls adorned with pearl flowers blur past you until—

The walls part again, the altar and demon coming into view.

“That’s not—” you spin, turning back toward the path and running faster this time, your relic pressed to your body, your lungs burning with the truth that you’re trying to deny.

The hemlock flowers seem to laugh as you pass, their white petals pointing the way with mocking fingers until—

The altar. The demon, an eyebrow raised. Again.

“Stop this!” Your voice breaks as you turn around to try again, sprinting so hard that your wings flap against the wind, your toes touching the top of the thin layer of water below you. You come to the altar a third time, then a fourth, each leading back to his knowing and patient form.

“I’m not doing anything.” His voice holds a gentle pity that pricks at your skin. “But why? Why would they send their most curious angel into a demon’s realm? Why alone? Why you?”

Something in his tone, in the endearment wrapped around seduction makes your grace shiver. You long to have an answer ready on your tongue, and you do, but it’s more practiced, copied, and spit out and resonates in your bones incorrectly.

“The relic requires eyes that can transcribe so I select the right one. My abilities—”

“Your abilities,” he interrupts softly, materializing behind you, “the ones that they’ve tried to suppress. The ones that they’ve feared. Yet suddenly, all of it is for naught, and you’ve been given this divine purpose?”

The towering demon circles you slowly, analyzing you like a predator waiting for his wounded prey to finally submit. You swallow hard, fingers digging into the leather of the book, eyes downcast.

“They finally saw my worth,” you insist, but the words sound hollow even to your ears. “I am pure. Free of sin. I do not stray.”

Warmth by the shell of your ear, the rich smell of him forbidden, an erotic melody that makes your blood long to sing.

“Lies.”

Your wings slash through the air in deep powerful strokes, twitching in their plumage. “I would not lie!”

“Neither would I, little angel. But it seems you have been led here under false pretenses.”

“No.”

“There is no relic.” The tome in your hands disappears, it’s solid form no longer tethered to existence.

“Give it—”

“There is no mission,” he presses on. “There is no divine purpose. There is only you. Cast down here and given to me.”

“To you…”

“An offering, little angel.”

The word makes you chill over in disgust, the very thought of being a sacrificial lamb enough to make you sick to your stomach. You shake your head vehemently, insistently denying as best as you can even though your grace radiates with the truth.

“No. They would never sacrifice someone. They—they wouldn’t—they wouldn’t do that to me.”

The demon clicks his tongue, pity filling his otherworldly features with a slight pout of his lips as he studies you. Before you can take another breath, the realm shifts, reality bending in a plume of smoke. The monolith and altar disappear, the darkness of the garden walls fading to give way to the eternal light you recognize as your home.

The tall pearly gates that surround your kingdom smile down at you, pearlescent clouds that seeps beneath the doors kissing your bare toes. Your wings waft in the air with ease, pumping euphoria through your veins as you smile up at your home. The tome is back now, cradled safely in your arms, reminding you of your mission. With a hope bright in your chest, you rapt your fingers on the doors.

“Father! I’ve retrieved the relic! I’m home!”

But the doors do not open. There is no sound of movement on the other side, no shift in the white clouds around you. It doesn’t even feel as if someone is not home. You can feel your siblings, you’ve always been able to sense them in your grace, but this sensation is reluctant. As if they peak through closed curtains on the other side, watching through a window with their hand on the door to prevent you from coming in.

“H-hello?” you try again, voice shaking as you knock with more fervor, denial warring with growing dread. “I-I said I’ve brought the relic.” Silence. “Hello?!” You smack on the doors now, the holy wood splitting at your skin and healing over again. Surely someone must be home. Maybe they are away? Maybe they are busy and do not hear?

You press your forehead against the door, wings drooping. Through your grace, you feel them there, still watching. Waiting for you to leave. But not to welcome you home.

“Please,” you whisper, eyes stinging. “Will someone—”

“They will not open the doors, little angel,” the demon speaks from behind you.

You jump from his sudden appearance, your body drained of all blood at the sordid thought of what is happening right now. Reality shifts again, the divine light of your home sucking back into darkness, the monolith and marble altar and obsidian floors coming back into view.

Your legs threaten to give as realization washes over you. You shake your head, lip quivering as tears blur the edges of your vision, your fingers curling on the altar. How could they do this to you? You have always struggled in this life, always been so ashamed that you do not think like the others. But to cast you out? To give you these wings and then make you feel as if you are beyond saving?

“Perhaps it is a mistake,” you whisper, your hope crumbling with every word. You feel his large form next to you before you hear any steps. “Why would they do this to me?”

You have no choice but to look up at him, to seek some form of answer in his burning yellow eyes. There’s a flicker of something that crosses his face—amusement? Maybe pity?

“They have offered you to me. A sacrifice to take the darkness from their pristine walls and feed it to the realm it belongs to.”

The words hang in the air, the horrifying truth once again presented to you. Your heart lurches in your chest. You recoil, your wings drooping to brush along the water covered floor.

“They fear you, little angel,” he continues, voice softening. “Your potential, your curiosity, your unwillingness to follow their absolutes.”

You slap your hands on the altar, the sound reverberating through the emptiness around you. “I will not.”

The demon chuckles, a low, sardonic noise that crawls up your dress and wraps around your throat. “Such defiance,” he purrs. “It’s quite…alluring.”

You can’t help the noise of shock and anger that crawls up your throat, shooting him a dark look. “I will not be corrupted by the likes of a demon like you.”

“Like me? So you imply that another demon may have a chance?” His jests fall on rageful ears, your wings flapping in defiance as you gape at him. He leans in close, his breath warm against your lips as he whispers. “You deny it all little angel. But you already are corrupt.”

You try to pull away from him, but a large hand falls to the small of your back, his fingers weaving through your wings in a caress that makes you choke on a whine.

“Come now, my dear.” The tip of his nose trails along your cheek, the touch sending flames of desire down your neck. You curl your fingers into a fist on the altar, your body ramrod straight.

“I can smell it on you,” he continues, his voice a silken caress. “The insatiable curiosity, the yearning for more, the essence that pools between your thighs every night before you sleep.”

The fingers in your plumage massage your skin, your shoulders relaxing into a traitorous sigh before with a swift motion, he plucks a feather from its root. You wince, your hand flying back to bat him away before he holds the feather in front of you, its tip stained a deep, inky black.

“Do you not try to hide it? You sneak to the archives. You let them smother your dreams. You do not tell them that you sneak away to the mortal realm to watch them eat, and bathe, and sin.”

He turns your wing to expose the underside where the feather was plucked, your eyes widening as if you’ve been caught. The skin is marred with a dark scar, the muscle underneath dried with blood and presenting as damning evidence of you plucking those feathers over and over, your cheeks covered in tears as you did your best to hide them away.

“You pluck your true self,” he whispers, voice laced with dry amusement. “But they only grow back stronger, don’t they?”

A breath catches in your throat, his words piercing through your defenses that you have built with weak mortar and brick for eons. Your eyes catch his, your desire reflected in burning gold.

“Even so…I cannot leave?”

He hums in reverence, a pointy finger trailing along your collarbone to brush a lock of hair from your shoulders, exposing more of your scent for him to breathe in.

“You have tried to leave already and you cannot. There is nowhere for you to go. I can let you roam to any realm you choose, but the doors of Heaven will be locked for you forever.”

Your eyes bubble with tears. It’s an unfortunate hand that you have been dealt. A hand always opened to you in promise even as the other held a dagger behind the back of divinity. There’s a deep part of you that would try to find some sort of silver lining in moments of darkness, a silver lining that only benefits you.

“If I stay…what will you give me?” you ask, your voice small and defeated.

The demon sinks to one knee in front of you, his eye level now only a little taller than you, but still more humane than his hovering from before. He offers a slow, predatory smile, his lips parting to reveal sharp pearly white fangs.

“You already think in ways that will benefit yourself, don’t you? Whatever you desire, little angel, I will give it.” The sharp point of his nail trails down your cheek, casting a wave of arousal down your body, your stomach tightening. “Anything at all.”

You cannot deny the promise of whatever you want does not make you perk mildly with curiosity, the same curiosity that was always quelled.

You lick your lips in thought, a nervous habit that your siblings have always discouraged. It’s unbecoming of an angel, they’d say, a physical manifestation of want. But you’ve always like the way your tongue feels against the plump flesh of your lips.

“Anything?”

He inclines his head to you, eyes answering without having to say. You hesitate, your mind racing with possibilities, unleashed with nothing to hold them back.

“I want…” you begin, stopping short at the coil of desire that burns in your body. You’ve never given it a true voice, and now that you’ve been presented with the opportunity, you are unsure of how to proceed.

The demon’s eyes roam over your form before they brighten with understanding. “You wish to read the tome.”

You nod, unable to speak past the dry lump in your throat. He summons it quickly, the worn leather materializing in his enormous hands as he hands it to you like an offering of forbidden fruit.

“Take it,” he urges in a seductive whisper. “It is yours.”

You reach out with trembling fingers, your grace pulsing with desire, it’s feel growing bolder as you snatch it up into your hands and let it flow through you. The leather is cool beneath your fingertips, worn with the promise of centuries of words you’ve always wanted.

When you open the book and let your eyes fall on the faded script, they rearrange themselves like before, translating to you in a seductive dance that makes your toes curl. The knowledge overwhelms you, flooding your senses in a wave of information about this realm—its history and inhabitants and magic. You feel a thrill of excitement, a suppressed sense of liberation as you turn page after page.

From your peripheral, you see the demon offer that same predatory smile. With a snap of his fingers, the world shifts around you again. You are further from the monolith but instead of the altar, you are surrounded by looming bookshelves, all filled to the brim. Ancient tomes and scrolls, dusty relics that have been neglected over the years but kept in condition by this demon who rules this realm.

“This is a taste of what I can offer you. All of it is yours.” He steps closer, the energy that he radiates filling your space with darkness and seduction that terrifies and excites you. “There is so much more I can show you,” he whispers in your ear again. “Would you like that?”

Even though your body and soul buzz with satisfaction from the books around you, the shame is still there, still bubbling beneath the surface next to your dejection.

Sensing your unease, he places tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, a gesture that you long to fall into before the world morphs again.

He takes you back to where you began, the realm’s outskirts. However there is no russet fog that is thick and smells of decay and misery, this time your vision is clear. The shadows that once hovered around you in your quest to the monolith now reveal themselves as souls—humans that you recognize from your years of observation.

“Do you remember her?” the demon asks, pointing to a small woman tending to a bush of flowers. “The woman from years ago who stole medicine for her dying child because she had no money.”

You do remember watching with tear filled eyes. It was an ancient time where death was a sentence given freely, and this mother had been called to the land of the dead for stealing bread.

“You watched her pray for forgiveness even as she did what was necessary.” His hand rests on your lower back, reassuring in its pressure. “Heaven would have condemned her. I gave her purpose.”

“How do you give purpose if you are a demon?”

The demon huffs, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “It is true that I gain my strength through corruption. But it is corruption through intellectual rebellion and questioning minds. I am strong because no matter how many years may pass, there will always be a soul that questions.”

Each soul that you pass triggers a memory—struggles you watched but could never reach out and help. And in each memory, you gain more clarity—he was always there in the mortal realm, appearing in navy and tan just like you thought.

“You’ve been watching me then,” you inquire, tucking your tome closer to your chest as you cast a sidelong glance to him.

“It is my nature,” he rumbles from next to you. “You understand the beauty in grey areas. The necessity of balance.” His fingers glide along the empty space where you plucked your blackened wings. “Here, you could judge with mercy and justice. Rule in the knowledge they feared.”

Power.

A destructive thing that has elevated so many and torn them down. But the call of it has always been sweet, and now you are the subject of it. The very thought of it makes your knees weaken, your grace fluttering like a leave in the wind. This could be something more honest, not Heaven’s sterile authority.

The soil that is no longer red vibrates beneath you, pulsing up your ankles and calves, around your waist and torso in thick vines that pull you to the monolith miles away.

“Easy, my dear,” he murmurs, a muscular arm sliding around your waist to prevent you from swaying further. “The first taste of true power always overwhelms.” Your grace flickers between divine light and seductive shadow, somehow grounded by his hold.

Every soul’s story calls to you now, complex choices and grey morality making your divine nature pulse with stomped out recognition. You lean into him, falling more into his scent, your wings brushing his back to seek balance.

“I…” you trail off, clutching the relic in your arms, using it to ground you through your thoughts that fight between light and dark.

“What else would you like?” he purrs in your ear, his hand reaching out to the realm beyond that begins to shift again. A vast kitchen filled with warmth and enticing scents. “Earthly pleasures are denied amongst angels.” The pristine counter tops are soon overflown with rich goods and goblets of wine. “Even something as simple as this.”

You’ve never had wine—it’s forbidden—at least for you. But the way it catches the warm fireplace behind it, deep and rich…your mouth waters.

“Freedom to roam where you wish.”

Glimpses of different realms flash by—clouds of different shapes and sizes, landscapes of mountains and water as clear as crystal, beings that take on their own forms as they wander the lands—places you’ve only dreamt of exploring, of asking to see and always been denied.

His voice drops lower, more intimate and hot on your cheek. “Or perhaps…” Another shift. A dark room you remember faintly—through gauzy curtains, you see two figures entwined in candlelight. The brown skin of limbs and curves wrapped around tan that shimmers faintly. You recognize the hips of the woman, the collarbone and hair, and you realize it’s you. You wrapped around this very demon next to you who appears in the mortal realm as a human with carefully parted locks and a height fit for yourself.

Your blood boils beneath your skin as you try to look away. But like every forbidden thing that’s ever called to you, your eyes are drawn back to the scene—to the way your dream-self arches into his touch, the way your neck cranes, the sight of his tongue sliding along the sweat of your brown breast.

He hums from behind you, his demonic form pressing closer as you watch his human glamour worship your other self. That familiar wave of shame wars with the desire in your body, trying its best to smother the arousal that tightens your nipples beneath your white dress. All of it you suffer night after night—your grace singing, skin hot and sweaty—essence coating your thighs.

“I—” you stutter for words, eyes locked on the human form that rolls his hips and swallows a moan that shakes from your other-self. “This is wrong…”

His starlight fingers trace your collarbone, mimicking the tongue of his human form. “Your body remembers what they tried to smother away. How many nights did you wake burning for this? For me?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

The realm shifts one final time, the familiar garden walls and monolith appearing before you, the altar pressing into your back. The demon circles you, giving you no time to recover as his prying eyes pick you apart feather by feather.

“Even your grace recognizes where you truly belong.” He reaches out, trailing pointy nails down your spine, your body arching of its own volition. “Here. With me.”

His hands engulf your entire waist, his touch making you gasp as he lifts you up to sit on the altar before him.

“Every dream they tried to bury,” his hands trail up your thighs, “every desire they made you forget…” he steps closer, taking the oxygen from your lungs that you expel, his naked chest a hairsbreadth from your searching fingers. “All of it has lead to this moment. To me.”

“I—” you try to protest, but it dies in your throat as he tilts your chin to face him.

“You were meant for this realm,” he leans in, trailing his nose along your shaking lips. “I will make you mine. As my queen, my consort, my equal.” You press the tome further into your chest like a lifeline as his hand rests on the side of your neck, his nails grazing the lobe of your ear. “You’ve always known it. Even in those dreams where you surrendered to me so sweetly.”

His lips are close enough to kiss you, but they brush your jaw instead, trailing electricity down your throat. “Anything you want,” he breathes against your pulse, smiling at the sight of it’s rapid flutter, “you will have, little angel.” His mouth moves to that sensitive spot behind your ear that you discovered one night centuries ago. “But you must surrender to me. You have been offered and now you must be consumed.”

You clutch the tome tighter, using it as a tether even as your head tilts to give him better access. “I should not…”

“Surrender,” he whispers, lips ghosting your shoulder now, each kiss punctuated with promises that you should deny. “Let me worship you.” A kiss to your collarbone. “You will never be denied again.” His mouth traces back to hover over your lips. “Submit to what you have always wanted.”

The burn in your body makes your skin tingle, your core pulse with forbidden need, your nipples tighten in pleasure. Everything you’ve always wanted, could be given to you right now.

All of your dedication to faith has only led to tears and shame and disappointment. But here, you could be rewarded for your curiosity, exalted for your power to see what others do not, consumed in pleasure without the eyes of disdain looking down on you.

Here, with this beautiful demon, you can have it all.

For as powerful and as dark as he is, despite the patient hunger in his golden eyes, you realize he’s waiting. You must give the final say. A final say to do away with eons of denying, of plucking dark feathers, of letting them bury your dreams…

“Please,” the words shake from your lips before you can stop it, the tome slipping from your defeated grasp.

His eyes flash with satisfaction, mouth twitching with the urge to smile, but he relents. “Say it properly, little angel.” His mouth brushes the corner of your lips in not quite a kiss. “Tell me.”

Your wings spread wider of their own accord, trembling and stretching past invisible threads that have always held them down. “I want…I will to surrender.”

You hardly finish your words before you feel the press of his lips against yours, gentle and almost reverent. It’s the first time you’ve ever kissed, and it’s as euphoric as you’ve always thought. Your toes curl in satisfaction, your body hums with arousal, low and beneath the surface but quickly growing.

The hand on your neck tilts you up so he can feast further, a wet tongue sliding along the seam of your lips in a quiet ask for permission. You let your body guide you, opening your mouth to welcome him with a groan.

He tastes like he smells—green tea and honey, a hint of rich bread that you occasionally try in the mortal realm. It’s intoxicating, dark mingled with your fading sweetness. One that speaks of corruption and surrender.

What started as gentle quickly turns hungry and consuming. Your grace shivers as you catalogue every shift in your body, learning from the lessons of his tongue. Each stroke of him feels like corruption, like freedom, like finally coming home and you arch into him for more.

Your white dress slowly disappears before you, your body revealing to him naked and shivering. You try to cover yourself, an urge ingrained in you since your coming of existence, but the demon’s large hand stops you, gathering both hands in his strong grip and placing them at your sides.

He does not wait a second longer, his mouth trailing in worship down your neck and across your collarbone to pepper the swell of your breasts, your core pounding incessantly as he gets closer to one nipple before he wraps it in his hot mouth.

A moan shakes from your mouth, unexpected and loud into the quiet air of this monolith room. Your hands reach up to card in his golden locks, they’re warm and impossibly silky, the flame colored ends burning more than the rest. You let the pain of it singe your fingertips, basking in the euphoric pleasure pain of your skin growing back and burning all over again.

His hand envelops your other breasts, his sharp nails teasing your nipple before he drags it slowly across your areola. Your fingers tighten in his hair from the pain, your core dripping on the marble altar you sit on.

“You taste wonderful, little angel,” he purrs into the wet skin of your breast, pulling away before he gently nudges you onto your back. Your wings stretch languidly to make you more comfortable against the flat surface. The urge to cover yourself is not as insistent as before, the desire eating you up without reservation. “But I must taste more.”

He leans over the altar you lay on, kissing your lips gently before his tongue slides along the skin of your neck and down your body. It’s longer than a mortal tongue, and when they circle your nipples again, you shake at the pronged tip that flicks your bud.

He worships down your torso to dip in your navel, over the dip in your hips before his hands push your legs up onto his shoulders and he licks your sopping core from bottom to top.

You arch sharply, teeth digging into your bottom lip in a futile attempt to stop the moan from shooting from your throat.

You’ve watched the humans many times in the shadows, transfixed when their mouths worship these parts of their partner, but to experience it yourself? To feel the demons tongue part your folds and circle the bud at the top that makes you cry into your pillows at night. Heaven has hidden away beautiful pleasure.

“Look at how much you give me,” he whispers, kissing the inside of your thigh before you feel his tongue on you again, prodding your entrance that you’ve sunken your fingers into at night.

You bite down on your lip, shivering in pleasure as he prods further and further, your legs widening with each current of pleasure until he sinks his wide tongue inside of you. You taste copper from your bleeding lip that heals over quickly, your bare feet digging into the demon’s broad shoulders as he feasts on your essence.

With every gasp, your wings quiver in anticipation, curling into your body to protect yourself from a euphoria that is growing so quickly in your stomach.

“Please,” you whisper in disbelief, hands twisting his hair with your divine strength. He hums in satisfaction, satisfied with what you give and digging for more.

His tongue strokes inside of you with purpose, caressing something along the roof of your hot walls, his nose brushing your bundle of nerves once, twice, the pleasure enough to make your jaw drop, to make you pant feverishly into the air, to make your back arch until the base of your spine hurts as you come apart by the seams.

Your release makes you cry out into the air, the sound brushing along the monolith, the constant pulsing stopping to take in your pleasure before it resumes its steady pulse.

He rises slowly as you struggle to catch your breath, his golden eyes tracing over your shivering form from head to toe. His grey obsidian hands slide up your trembling thighs as he leans over you.

“Beautiful,” he purrs before he kisses your lips. You swallow your taste—tangy and rich like the divinity that courses through your veins. “But I must have all of you to make this complete.”

All of you?

You look down to find that his pants are gone, starlight shining bright on his hips that seem to point down to the member that hangs between his thighs. Your eyes widen—he’s definitely bigger than mortals, purplish veins that trail along the sides, a tip that is darker than his grey, the skin flickering with those shimmering stars you are growing to love.

He’s beautiful, and without thinking you reach out to touch. He’s impossibly hard but also incredibly soft, and you watch in fascination as his dark flame-colored wings expand and shake in supplication.

He leans his head back to the grey skies, swallowing deeply at your touch and there’s a sense of power you feel. To know that with a single touch you can make this powerful demon fracture just a little.

He wraps his hand around yours to stop you, pulling you up so that he can sit on the altar instead. Even though he’s tall, you’re able to reach up and wrap your arms around his neck.

Your wings stretch and flap behind you, sparse feathers wafting in their air to fall around you both in white, grey, and black. Even though you feel loose from your first release, there is a subtle power that thrums with every flap of your wings.

You look at the monolith again. The pulse has picked up steadily, seeming to match your own heartbeat. Maybe there is a connection to the power inside of it and what might be coursing through you now.

As you tail up the length of it until it disappears into the grey clouds, you think faintly of those who cast you out. The pleasure fractures a little with pain, your eyebrows furrowing in disappointment.

“My angel,” he calls to you, softly, turning your gaze back to him. His golden and flame locks are messy, his horns pulsing with shimmering light, the navy and gold armor gone so that he is as naked as you are. “That pain that you feel will go away with time. I will make sure you will never know it again.”

The promise fills you with hope, and the press of his lips to yours makes the sordid thoughts fall to the wayside, your pleasure humming to life at the base of your spine.

The touch of his fingers to your core makes you whine into his mouth, pulling away with only a gossamer of saliva connecting you both. He strokes your bud, drinking your sighs and moans as your thighs and stomach tighten, your fingers digging into his soft shoulders.

He pulls you up onto your knees, your wet entrance brushing the thick tip of him before he guides you onto him slowly. It’s a stretch, far thicker than your fingers and foreign inside of you.

The initial pain makes you gasp, tears pricking your eyes. It feels as if you’re being split in two from your hips, torn apart with a strength that only makes you shiver and moan.

One hand slides along one wing to soothe you, his lips pressing to your neck. Eventually, the pain gradually melts into pleasure, his hands possessive on your hips as he guides you with careful restraint. You quake at the feel of him inside of you, stretching and molding your muscles in each euphoric stroke.

“Perfect,” he breathes against your shoulder. “Look how well you take me.” His voice resonates deep in your core, a sound that both terrifies and entices you, a forbidden melody that you are slowly learning the notes to.

You whimper in response, relishing in his praise as you begin to move faster on top of him, bouncing with a newfound sense of purpose. Your wings flap with more insistence, stretching and bending with the power that begins to seep out of your skin, white feathers less in abundance with each flap.

The demon’s nails dig into your waist and you sigh into the pain, picking up the pace until you’re not sure where he stops and you begin.

The power takes you higher and higher, your skin breaking into a sheen of sweat, your gasps dying in the air as you pant and moan above him. The pleasure at the base of your spine heats quickly, bubbling with sticky satisfaction as it slides down your vertebrae and into your core.

“That’s it,” he growls, nails digging into the flesh of your cheeks, canting your hips toward him so the tip of his member brushes that spot on your upper walls once again.

You choke on a moan, head thrown back in bliss, nails dragging down the solid muscle of his chest. Your wings curl around you, dark feathers replacing white with each thrust.

“Transform for me completely. Embrace what you truly are.”

“Yes,” you hiss, your mouth falling open as you struggle for breath. Your core tightens around him, the bundle of nerves shaking even untouched, and you’re falling, you’re falling, you’re—

The demon shifts again, his member leaving your hot core and denying you of release, your hands now pressed to the altar as you’re bent over. You whine in annoyance, looking over your darkening wings at his large form as he heaves with breath.

He regards you with a dark look, one that shows just how capable he is of picking you apart, and your mouth fills with saliva at the thought.

He draws one leg up onto the altar before sliding into you once more without pretense. You groan around the stretch of him, marveling at the pinch of pain that bleeds into overwhelming pleasure as he picks up his pace inside of you.

What starts out as reverent and gentle soon turns feverish. His strokes are deeper, his hips snapping against your open legs, a haze of pleasure clouding every crevice of your mind as he kisses spots inside of you that makes you groan, hiss, and whine.

The monolith picks up in speed, pulse matching your heartbeat as you climb higher and higher up a ladder of darkness that has always been denied.

You don’t know why, you don’t know where it comes from, but the last slivers of your salvation slide to the surface, tickling your throat one last time before they leave your soul forever.

“Please, please, Father,” you moan, eyes filling with tears of satisfaction as your body jerks with every harsh thrust of the demon behind you. One of his hands weaves into your locks, curling tight before yanking you back to him, arching until our stomach presses into the altar. “Forgive me.”

“We will have none of that,” he warns, out of breath. “You seek forgiveness to someone who is not listening. You pray to someone who has cast you out. And here you are. Under me. Calling for him as you weep on my cock in pleasure.”

His sharp fingers slide down your hip to circle over your bud of nerves and you cry out, tears streaming down your face, power radiating up your limbs. “Keep moaning, little angel. Keep begging.” He leans over you, pressing his hot chest into your wings, his breath hot on your ear as the tips of his pronged tongue slide along your lobe. “In your eyes you are soiled. Filthy. And my sweet goddess loves it, doesn’t she?”

You shake your head to deny, deny, deny. But a hard thrust, a stroke of his thick cock that kisses your cervix, and you sob in the pain that molds into pleasure. Your nipples brush against the cold marble, each icy touch shockwaves down your spine.

“I’ve watched you, my dove. When you study the humans in their pleasure. I’ve seen the way your pupils dilate. I’ve smelt the essence between your thighs. You dream of this don’t you?”

You try to whisper your Father’s name one last time, to show with your last breath of divinity that you were an angel who worked hard.

“You won’t say his name here anymore. Not in my realm—in our realm. Not in my arms while you cum on my cock. The only name you will moan and beg and plead is mine.”

Your wings flap in reverence, responding to his demands as they stretch around you. No longer are your feathers white, now they are inky black, as dark as midnight, as mysterious as the darkness you peer into.

The monolith quickens, a hummingbird’s wings, the bright core sliding up and down the tree-like structure and bleeding with vibration through the ground and up the altar.

Even as your mind tries to deny what you are becoming, your soul speaks otherwise, your core clenches around him unwilling to let go. The demon behind you grunts with each thrust, low and seductive on the back of your neck, his nose smelling the skin.

“I can’t—” you choke, fingers sliding on the altar from your sweat. “Please.”

“Please what?” he groans.

“More, please more, more, more,” you beg, words and resolve splintering in your throat as he rewards you with deeper thrusts, each one making you see the stars that shimmer along his skin.

“Say my name,” he demands, one hand sliding up your throat. You gasp at the subtle pressure on each side, not enough to do anything, but enough to make a dark current of pleasure pulse inside of you. “Let the skies above hear who you belong to now.”

You don’t know where the name comes from. He’s never given it to you. You’ve never asked. But somewhere, deep down in some ancient place in your soul, you’ve always known all along. Known him.

“Nanami,” it falls from your lips like a broken prayer. “Nanami, please—”

His teeth graze your pulse, sharp fangs dragging along your skin as pleasure builds in your body beyond reason. Your wings spread impossibly wide, your skin hums in arousal, hot and stinging.

The monolith’s pulse quickens with you, its light growing brighter as the power in your body travels through your veins to complete a transformation you can feel in your fallen grace. Even with every harsh pump of his hips, you feel worshiped. Worshipped by his hands. Worshipped on this altar in front of a monolith that watches over you both.

“You were an offering—a gift to me. Molded by the heavens. And now you’re mine. And your Father sent you to me,” he growls against your throat. “My dark goddess.”

His thrusts grow harder, more desperate, each one a brand searing its mark into your very soul. A mix of your essence and his precum pools on the altar where you are joined. The last embers of your angelic resistance crumble completely, replaced by an insatiable hunger that mirrors his own.

“Let go. Surrender to me completely.”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

That hot lava at the base of your spine explodes like a volcano of unholy fire as his teeth sink into your neck, marking you as his. Your release bursts from you, your core squeezing his thick member, your muscles seizing as your mouth falls open and your cries echo through the realm as divine light fractures into starry darkness.

All of your abilities that have been repressed swirl within the darkness and mix with the forbidden powers awakening within you. It feels like the very essence of your being is changing, transforming into something wild, a reflection of the demon who guided you with a sultry voice down this path.

You feel a rivulet of your blood trail down the side of your neck from his puncture, blazing with the essence of darkness that now pumps through your veins. He releases his teeth from your neck and turns your head to him with more force than necessary, sliding his tongue into your mouth as he kisses you senseless.

You can’t breathe, your body is loose, your grip on the edge of the altar slipping with each relentless thrust but you love it. Every smack of heavy balls against your clit, every slide of sweaty muscles of his chest against your wings and back, every pulse of your cunt around his cock.

Nanami pulls away breathless, the hand around your throat tightening imperceptibly, the sharp tips of his fingernails breaking skin. His pronged tongue slides along your cheeks to collect your fallen tears.

Every noise that leaves your mouth is against everything you hold dear, a sound of sin, debauchery and lust.

“I’m yours,” you whisper against his lips, your breath punching out of you with each desperate thrust. Nanami’s eyebrows furrow and his nose crinkles with a snarl, his wings pulsing with flame as his release climbs up his body as well. “I’m yours, Nanami.”

“Take my essence, little angel,” he demands, biting your lip until you draw blood. You lick up the coppery tang, falling into the prickly grip on your neck as he takes what he needs from you. “One day, when you have ruled with me for centuries to come, when you are one in your skin, perhaps my essence will take root.”

Your eyes widen at the implication, your soul no longer quivering in blasphemy but in satisfaction. How you would love that. One day. With him.

“Yes, Nanami,” you whisper into him, accepting one more kiss as he strokes once, twice, and a final time before he shivers from head to toe and groans with deep pleasure into your mouth.

His darkness seeps into the remnants of your light, a forbidden dance of shadow and flame now made true. He pumps hot semen into you, far too much for comfort and your essence combines with his demonic energy, feeding the power that still ebbs in your veins.

He falls into you, his hold on your throat vanishing to slide down to your naked stomach, pressing to the spot where he is still lodged inside. You reach back, carding your hands through his burning hair, reveling in the shiver he gives you.

He pulls out of you slowly and your cunt clenches around nothing, legs shaking at the feel of his semen dripping from you. He does not entertain the mess but gathers you in his arms, carrying you past the defiled altar and monolith that has fallen into a gentle ebb once more. The obsidian floors open up again, the thin layer of water rising within a large tub of water that steams with inviting heat.

He sinks you both into the steaming water, your new darkened wings flapping at the moisture that touches your plumage. When he dips your head beneath the surface, it feels like baptism in reverse—washing away heaven’s hold rather than blessing you with it. When you emerge, you feel reborn, your shame and disappointment for your former family now washed away.

You sigh at the effect hot water on your muscles, melting into the large expanse of his chest. He does not speak and you do not ask questions, content to watch him manifest a tray of oils and soaps that smell of green tea and burning honey.

He plucks a marble comb from the tray and drags it gently through your curls, each stroke bending with the texture of your hair to guide without tangle, each pass worship and calming.

Once your hair is untangled and silky, he washes your skin with the soap and oils that smell of him. You study him openly now—the way constellations shift across his skin, how his golden eyes hold both demonic power and intelligent precision, the careful way he maintains order even in darkness.

He dresses you in black fabric that flows like liquid shadow, clinging to your curves like his possessive touch. Instead of the starry sky, the black material is adorned by golden accents that match his eyes and armor.

The altar recedes into the floor and in its place, two large thrones emerge. Carved from pure white marble shot through with veins of gold, they’re identical in height and grandeur—a statement of what he promised you—equal rule.

Dark vines curl around their bases, blooming with black roses, while plush velvet cushions in deep navy make them as comfortable as they are magnificent.

He throws you an inquisitive rise of his brow, what was once used to pick you apart upon first meeting him, now make your lips curl in a smile. You pretend to ponder which you will choose, humming noncommittally before you sink into one chair, sighing into the softness around your body and wings.

Nanami bends down, taking a hand in both of his before he kisses your palm. “You look magnificent,” he purrs, your hand still in his while he sits on his throne.

With a snap of his fingers, the garden walls disappear, revealing the vast landscape that was once shrouded in horror and fear when you first arrived.

Now it appears without malice, without misery or shame, but of exotic greenery and souls who have been neglected for only choosing a path that feels wrong even though it is right.

The heavens is but a distant memory now, infinitesimal in the many years you will continue to exist. Now, you bask in the new power in your bones, in the brush of Nanami’s lips to your palm once more.

As the stars on his skin ebb and fade with light, you take in the muscles of his torso, the strength in his movements as he worships you without speaking.

It has taken eons to get to this moment, but some part of you preens with the satisfaction that Nanami has always been watching, waiting for you to come to him.

Thanks for reading and Happy Halloween!

223 notes · View notes

mooishbeam · 2 months ago

Text

『♡』 Welcome Home, Kento!

♡ featuring: nanami kento x reader

♡ synopsis: nanami can't wait to return home to his wife and kids. little does he know, there's a lot of love waiting for him behind the door.

♡ wc: 2.4k+

♡ tags: nobara and yuji are your children, fanon, domestic fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, salaryman AU

notes: took a break on the capitano fanfic im working on cause domestic kento got me acting unwell i miss him and need him so bad. canon break but idc nobara and yuji are his kids and no one can tell me otherwise. art by getoad on ig! comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

Nanami Kento’s work seemingly never ended.

Caught between meetings and printer jams, the small talk he endured with simple one-word answers, and the folders piling on his cold metal desk in a cramped cubicle, he was exhausted. Air conditioners blew frigid in the office, making small accidents unbearable.

The only warmth he experienced throughout his shifts was the art exhibit on the back wall and a wooden frame, sitting not too far from his grasp. Next to the bulky outdated computer was a picture frame of you, sweating radiance despite the fluorescent wall lights, hair disheveled with tired eyes in your hospital gown. You’re holding a newborn Yuji, chubby with a soft hint of pink fuzz on his head. A one-year-old Nobara chose to nestle next to you through the blood and amniotic fluid sticking to your hands. Somehow smiling—blearily, but still smiling so hard your eyes practically close.

The scene was not pretty; it burned into his memory, committing to the wrinkles in his brain so that he’d never forget your screams and undying strength. Even the grip on his hand, imprinting the wedding band into his skin when you forced a final push. He never averted his gaze, stroking your wet hair and kissing your throbbing temple; if he could alleviate some of your struggle for a moment, share in your pain for a second, he’d do it ten times over. You’re the mother of his children, after all, his wife and soulmate.

He met you at a small bakery on the corner of a forgotten street after a double shift. Back turning in knots, cranky as ever with permanently furrowed brows. And when he’d order his favorite pastry—a chocolate eclair—only for it to disappear in the hands of another customer, he was downright irritated. Turning to the offender, the kinks in his muscles suddenly melted at the sight of your apologetic smile. Your apology dissipated in his ears, not managing to reach his cognition as he studied your stunning glow in the dim yellow lighting of that cafe.

Before you could finish your offer to buy him double, his mouth moved ahead of his mind; “Would you like to sit together?”

That was forever ago, though. Prior to him falling in love, to your laugh breathing life and color into him once again. To you becoming the soul reason he clocked in every day at a dead-end job he settled for. He was putty in the palm of your hand, but could you blame him? You were his salvation from the bitter, grey world he walked alone for years, and now even the sun felt warmer with you around.

So, when days become thoroughly tedious such as this one, his eyes tend to wander. Once, twice to his watch, then to the countless drawings from Yuji and Nobara stuck to the cubicle. Yuji and Nobara were two sides of the same coin, regardless of the weekly sibling rivalry where he had to stop them from tearing each other’s hair out. Nanami wasn’t a man who chose sides which usually resulted in him taking both drawings from their art competitions, to the dismay of the sore winners.

The old Nanami Kento would’ve hunched over the desk, mindlessly typing away past his shift ending, until his buzzing lamp was the sole light left in the office. Currently, he was dying to go home, nearly dreaming of seeing your faces, your “welcome home” as he opened the door. His printed tie is lax around his neck, shirt unbuttoned a little too low with an ankle crossed over the other knee, like nothing matters besides holding you at the end of the day. The digital clock rings, breaking him out of a trance and knocking the pen he’d been fumbling with out of his hands.

Immediately he starts shoving papers in his briefcase, some crumpling and folding at the edges. He throws his suit jacket on, clocks out with the same vigor and heads for the door.

“Nanami, wait a second!” his boss hollers from his office. He steps out, and Nanami barely spares him a glance.

“We’re short-staffed right now, I’ll need you to stay behind-”

“No.”

His boss stands dumbfounded, and it takes a few business days for him to register that his demand was denied. He brushes his balding combover and clears his throat, “Excuse me?”

“I’m going home to my wife.”

“This isn’t up for discussion-” Suddenly, Nanami shoots a glare that stops him dead in his tracks. His legs are glued to the floor, like the senses of prey in proximity to a vulture. He appears to be his standard nonchalance, but with the way his jaw clenched, and his eyes bore through him, perhaps retracting his words was the best decision for his safety.

“U-understood. Have a good weekend.”

The city streets are serene following sundown, a calm breeze picking up rustling leaves that began to fall. He checks his watch again; just in time for dinner. He hurries up the townhouse steps of the brick building and clicks his key into the mahogany door.

“Ahhh!”

“Yuji, come here!”

“Wahhh, black flash!”

All the lights in the living room and kitchen are on, and blankets are thrown haphazardly around the floor. The television plays an obnoxiously loud cartoon, but it’s evident none of them are watching it based on the army of colorful toys piled on the couch, and a suspicious stuffed wolf plush sitting on the stairs with its head lopsided. An odd lone cookie lays half-eaten on the floor, and the kitchen counters are strewn with crumby flour and sticky batter. The faint aroma of something sweet lingers in the entryway.

The best part is you, his wife, chasing after Yuji and Nobara in his dirty button up teal shirt with the sleeves rolled up. You’re all dripping in water, trailing sodden footprints around the house. Nobara comes around the kitchen island in a bath robe and towel headband, bunny ears bobbing as she drags a leash toy behind her popping plastic balls of rainbow pigments.

Yuji, on the other hand, is completely naked minus a comical formation of bubbles around his lower half. He’s chasing her with a toy car foaming with soap and it soars in the air as he laughs and chants sound effects, “bam, black flash!”, pretending to launch it at her. The lot of you are circling the kitchen island, chaotic laughing and shrieking as Nobara’s toy bangs into the stools and cabinets. Just then, a wind-up robot taps Nanami’s foot and falls over.

“Yuji stop chasing her!”

“Ahhh!”

“RAHH!”

He’s never felt more at home in his life.

He drops his briefcase, shrugs off his jacket and shoes and joins in. Yuji may be able to evade your grasp, but Nanami was an entirely different beast. You finally manage to intercept Nobara and scoop her in your arms, shaggy robe eclipsing her small cherubic pout. Nanami rushes around the corner and snatches Yuji upside-down, tiny damp feet pressed at his chin with his arms dangling in the air. Amid the chaos you hadn't noticed him, but when your kind eyes meet, a bright smile warms his cheeks, like the first time you met—he's smitten all over again.

“Daddy!” Nobara screams.

Yuji squeals and struggles wildly in Nanami’s hold. “I win” he declares.

“Noo you don’t, not fair!” He tries to escape but Nanami has an iron grip, and you place Nobara on the counter while you get Yuji. He passes him off to you, “Sorry, you’re covered in water now.” He tilts your chin and plants a chaste kiss, skimmed traces of yearning. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve been missing you all day.”

“Really?” He hates when you ask that, because truthfully, he misses you incessantly. It borders on obsession. The second you leave his sight, he’s wondering when you’ll return, if he could go with you, should it be a family outing, should he follow you? He’ll stir in the thoughts that totally encompass you; you, you, you, until you come back to him.

“Of course, my love.” Yuji grumbles an annoyed noise and tucks his head in your neck. “Trouble in paradise?” he adds, a tinge of sarcasm. You giggle, brushing the drenched strand of hair from your face, “Yuji really fought the bath today.”

“Black flash!” he yells, firing his baby fist in the air. Nanami makes a feigned noise of pain to throw his head back and clutch his heart. “C’mon now, let’s finish up” you tell him. As you’re dragging him down the hallway to the bathroom, his defiant wails fade to silence.

Nanami cleans up the disarray with Nobara’s help. She throws the toys in the toybox, a proud look on her face while Nanami stacks the blankets in a lump on the couch and sweeps the crumbs from the floor. He felt a bit guilty putting a damper on the fun, but winding down the kids for bedtime was most important, and Nobara would gladly change into her dinosaur pajamas if that meant she could spend some time with dad.

Yuji arrives as a tired, messy-haired but less stinky version of himself, wearing an alien onesie. You’d clearly won the great bath war.

But a growing scent floods the kitchen, mild smoke emitting from the stove skillet.

The skillet?

Shit.

“Ohh, no no no”, you run to grab a spatula and remove the skillet from the burner. The pancake facing you seems unharmed, perfect even with a nice fluffy texture. You fan the smoke away with a kitchen towel and Nanami approaches you. He looms over the pan, “Pancakes?”

“Yeah, Yuji wanted pancakes and Nobara wanted chicken nuggets. So, we did both” you say, scraping the underside of it. The crackling of something crispy doesn’t do much to ease your doubts. “Looks good to me-”

You flip the pancake, and it’s fully burnt.

Solid black with a thin trail of smoke billowing. You both stare at it in silence. Then you look at each other, and Nanami bursts out laughing. Tears collect at his eyes, and he’s doubled over with his head on your shoulder, a hand around your waist. You sigh in defeat, “Does it still look good to you?”

“I’ll eat it if it makes you happy.”

“I’m not trying to kill my husband.” He hums and kisses your cheek. “I’m sorry, I tried to have dinner ready for when you got home. Lost track of time.”

The last thing he’d want is for you to feel bad about such trivial matters. He hugs you from behind, whispering in your ear, “Don’t worry, it’s enough. Everything you do is enough.” Yuji abruptly hits his leg, and he peers down. “I wanna hug mommy too!”

“Get in line. She’s my mommy right now” he teases. You giggle when Yuji tries to wedge between your bodies, and Nanami holds his head back like a bull charging at a fence.

When they’re done eating their chicken nuggets, and he convinces Yuji that celery tastes better than pancakes, you snuggle up for the night. Weekends lasted later into the night, but regardless they had to stay on schedule. It was his favorite part of the week, where you dimmed the lights, he lit the fireplace and crowded on the floor of a striped blanket fort in the middle of the living room. Yuji rested his head on a pillow with his favorite wolf plush while Nobara laid on your stomach.

“In the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf” you start, holding the book with one hand. Nanami always opts to sit outside of the fort. One, because he’s too tall for it. And two, he likes to see your face reading peacefully in the rare tranquility of a hissing fireplace. You were so gentle and nurturing that at times he found it hard to pull himself away from your face, sinking in pure adoration.

“One Sunday morning the warm sun came up and”, you wind up your hand and tickle Nobara. “Pop! —out of the egg came a tiny and very. Hungry. Caterpillar.” You tap her nose in line with the words.

Nanami understood why the kids enjoyed your story time over his monotone one. He couldn’t get past the first page before Yuji started to complain and Nobara began to space out. “He started to look for some food” you dance your fingers down her spine like a caterpillar would, and she faintly smiles.

Yuji normally falls asleep first, snoring like a grown man as he drools into the pillow. Then Nobara will drift quietly, to the point where you barely realize she’s dreaming. Then you, fighting sleep as you gaze up at Nanami, forcing yourself to make conversation in a half-groggy state. Your hair is jumbled and the shirt you stole from the hamper bunches at your waist. Here, he feels fulfilled. Irrevocably whole.

“How was your day, sweetheart?” you drawl. His heart flutters at the pet name, caressing your face with his thumb. “The usual” he replies, just as soft and tender, “it felt longer today.”

“Mm? Why?” He picks up on a croak in your voice, a sign you’ll be sleeping soon. “I couldn’t wait to come home.”

A pleased noise rumbles at the back of your throat. “Let’s go to the beach. It’ll get too cold soon.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Mhm”, you run your hand over his, leaning into his touch, “maybe we could invite Gojo and his kids.”

“Hell no, that guy’s a nutcase.” You laugh, hushed and weak. He kisses your forehead. “Goodnight, my love.”

“No, I’m not sleeping yet” you groan in spite of closing your eyes. “Then what are you doing, right now?”

“Mm. Just resting them.”

He smirks, aware of what happens right after that. He kisses your nose, then your velvety lips. He can’t shake the fact that he’d found someone like you, someone who’d love him unconditionally, accept his flaws and dry humor and stand by his side under any circumstances. It almost felt undeserved, like that bakery incident should’ve earned him a slap to the face instead of your sweet nature, swelling his heart and pulling him deeper. His only treasures, laid in front of him in a cozy cuddle pile.

Before he could get up to turn the lights off, a soothing utterance of your voice, words he’d been waiting for since he opened the door.

“Welcome home, Kento.”

#jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami

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sing-me-under · 5 months ago

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I don’t follow the HH tag because I’m not interested in it, and I genuinely do not care about people’s opinions on the writers. But I do frequently dive into the HB tags, and every single day, there’s another person complaining about one character or plot point or another as if it’s the end times of good and pure society as if the the corporate theme song ends with “Kids Die For Free!” and as if their spam of posts preaching isn’t just showing their lack of media literacy. It’s not like clogging up the tag or anything, but it’s still there frequently enough that I think they do deserve dunce caps.

I’m glad HH doesn’t have as pervasive an issue of inappropriate tagging as HB’s tags seems to. You should be able to enjoy your fandom with minimal effort. But I WANT to follow the character tags of the characters I like. I shouldn’t have to avoid certain character tags just because people lack media literacy and don’t want to tag properly.

Tumblr needs a badge identifying people who post critical and anti shit in the main tags. The “I personally don’t like this so I’m going to make it everyone else’s problem and interrupt their fun with my unasked for takes” badge.

#personal #never thought I’d see such intense purity culture in a show about hell #I don’t know what discourse HH has #but it’s sanitized enough by Amazon Prime that I don’t really care about #ever since apology tour came out #I keep find posts floating through my Followed Tags and For You tabs #saying that Verosika is a terrible person and no one should like her #like I follow her character tag because I think she’s an interesting character and yes I think she’s hot #but I also filtered out Anti Verosika tags and they still keep popping up #because these people feel like they have a moral obligation to stop people from looking Verosika #let me enjoy the indulgent art of Verosika Mayday #I’m just trying to enjoy a thing!#I don’t need to be shamed on Tumblr of all places #god these people would literally have heart attacks like little old conservative ladies #if they were ever thrown into early 2010s and previous fandom #just a reminder to tag your shit #just because its not a main tag #does not mean that tumblr’s algorithm isn’t picking it up and throwing it at people #not tagging something does not guarantee it will not escape the confines of tumblr’s shitty search engine

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streamafterlaughter · 1 month ago

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Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter II: A Place Uncharted and Overgrown

playlist | masterlist | pinboard | prev

song(s) for this chapter: Careful by Paramore, 365 by Charli XCX, Hardline by Julien Baker (for half a second)

chapter tags: cocky!kinda mean!fboy!eddie, swearing, drinking, drug (weed) use, implied sexual content | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | This fic is rated 18+ MDNI

taglist @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle send a message/comment to be added!

a/n: whatever is happening right now, don’t worry. it will get worse!

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog to support the author!

—

Your voice is hoarse by the time you pull into your driveway, surely waking the neighbors as your music leaks through your cracked windows, an angry repetition of YOU CAN’T BE TOO CAREFUL ANYMORE… You do, however, remember to crank it down before leaving your car, something future you will be thankful for.

You flick the light of your bare bones apartment on, glaring at the half your things still sitting in boxes. You keep telling yourself you’ll get to those.

Much to your discouragement, you’ve mostly accepted that Hawkins has swallowed you back into its cold and unforgiving bosom, at least for a while.

You’d left for college, obviously. Escaped to New York with a dream of becoming a published poet, a voice of the new generation. And though school was insightful, challenging, and everything you wanted; it was lonely. Art students are pretentious and judgmental, especially if you come from somewhere like Indiana. So you’d kept your head down and finished school alone, only to move back home with a useless degree, in thousands of dollars of debt, and with a brother in prison.

At least now my brother’s home, you think, trying to assuage the shame spiral. Home and as oblivious as ever, inviting Eddie to the bar.

You rise late, sunshine leaking into your second floor bedroom, provoking a groan from deep within your tired gut. Eddie’s here, in Hawkins. It’s been years since you’ve seen him, even longer since you’ve spoken. It leaves you with a lot of nagging questions you’re not sure you want the answers to.

You roll over, wrestling with your sheets tangled around your bare legs. You barely remember coming home, having blacked out the night with a red, angry rage that seems to have subsided with the night. You’re calmer now, almost zen.

Almost, until you remember what you’ve promised tonight. Parties aren’t usually of any concern; a few old friends and maybe a couple college kids with nothing better to do, but you dread it all the same. Eddie used to frequent Steve’s house parties to deal, even after you’d stopped speaking to him. Something about being “easy money,” he’d drunkenly explained to you once. You hope it doesn’t mean he’ll pick up the habit again, but you know deep down how naive that is.

“What’s the party even for?” You lean over the kitchen island to steal a chip from the bag, and Steve smacks your hand out of the way.

“Who says there has to be a reason for a party?”

“Anyone who wants to keep their house clean, for one.” Robin sneaks in from behind, snatching a handful of potato chips before Steve can catch her. “And I, for one, never agreed to hosting this party.”

“Co-hosting,” Steve reminds her, “and if you must know, it’s a party for Chris.”

“Didn’t we just have one of those?” You groan, and Robin hands you a chip, as if to apologize.

“Yeah, but that was nothin’. No offense, obviously I love your mom and the bar, but, cmon, you know he wants a rager.”

You really can’t argue with that, so you divert. “And you feel responsible to throw him?”

Steve presses his lips together, unable to combat the question. “We’re friends. Plus, it gives Robin an excuse to see Nance.” The last part is barely audible, but both you and Robin catch it, locking eyes, and she blushes. Nancy Wheeler, the Hawkins Girl Next door. Robin’s been pining over her since senior year of high school, with nothing to show for it.

Robin is harder to say no to than Steve. “Ugh, fine. I have one condition if you want me at this party.

Steve crosses his arms. “Bee, I can’t just not invite him.”

You shrug. “Okay, fine. Have a good time, let me know how it goes.” You grab your coat from the rack for emphasis.

“You’re bluffing.”

“You willing to bet on that?”

“What is your thing with him anyway?” Robin asks between munching on her chips, searching your face for a giveaway. “Like, I know he was there when Chris got cuffed, but is it really his fault your brother got caught?”

You’d never told your friends that Eddie had confessed, testified against your brother. Truthfully, you’d figured they’d find out on their own. You didn’t want to sway their opinions, you’d all been in the same friend group. Even now, you can’t bring yourself to explain the whole thing. “It’s a really, really long story that will kill the mood to tell.”

Steve huffs, hands on his hips. “You know I can’t use that to justify not inviting him.”

“Ugh, fine. But I’m gonna be pissy all night.”

He cracks a smile. “Whatever keeps you entertained, dork.”

Steve leaves you in charge of the music, giggling to yourself as you scroll through his playlist titles: Sad Boy Autumn, Night of Clubbin’, Hot Steve Summer. You land on his Party Rock Anthems, and scroll through what Steve believes to be, according to the playlist description, “The Ultimate House Party Jams.” What a fuckin’ dweeb. The first song to play when you shuffle is 365 by Charli XCX and you can't help but burst into laughter. He’s not wrong, of course, but you can’t even slightly believe that Steve has listened to this song, let alone added it to a playlist.

“Great choice!” A voice, light as a bell, rings from behind you, and you turn to greet its owner only to be met face to face with Chrissy Cunningham. The second to last person you’d expect to know this song.

“Oh, yeah,” You stutter, unsure of how to respond. You wouldn’t call yourself a 365 party girl, especially not right now.

“You here with anyone?” Her ponytail swings as she cocks her head to the side, inspecting you.

“Uh, nah, not really. Chris is my brother, this party’s for him.”

“Oh, yeah! You’re Bee, right?”

“To some,” You laugh nervously, hating to be preceded by your brother’s reputation. “And you’re Chrissy, right? I didn’t know you knew him.”

“Oh, I don’t really. I’m here on a date.”

“Who’s your-“

“Hey, baby.” No. God, no fucking way. Eddie seemingly appears from nowhere, sliding his arm around Chrissy’s waist, hand playfully low on her hip. Suddenly, you’re seething, teeth clenched together and you’re convinced you can feel the beginning of a migraine. “What’s got you talkin’ to the wet blanket? Drink not strong enough?” He eyes you, amused by the way your eye twitches.

“Eddie! Be nice, this is Chris’s sister!”

Eddie scoffs at her, head thrown back. “I know, Princess. Tweety and I go way back.”

“I thought you said your name was Bee?”

You shrug. “It’s one of ‘em. Tweety, however, is not.” Not anymore, but you don’t add that part out loud.

“Whatever. C’mon, let me introduce you to the other, way less sexy Chris.” And without another glance your way, Eddie takes his girl into the backyard.

“Fuckin’ asshole.” You mutter, adding another, much less fun song to the queue.

“Okay, enough moping!” Robin snatches your phone from you just as Julien Baker’s voice starts in, quickly switching it back to Steve’s clubbing playlist. “C’mon, let’s go dance!”

“Only if I can get another drink first.” Your rum and coke is gone, and you’re feeling far too sober to be in the same room as Eddie, let alone his date. The thought sends chills of what you can only assume are disgust up your spine. Poor Chrissy, Eddie must have charmed her into going out with him, how else do you explain that couple? What lies did he tell her to convince her he’s a decent enough guy?

“Hey, stop seething, I can see the foam about to come out of your mouth.” Robin snaps you out of seeing red, handing you a hard cider that you pout at. “I wanted a dirty shirley.”

“And I want you alive in the morning to help me clean this place up. As the host, I win by default.”

You huff dramatically, but take the can anyway. “Can you believe Eddie convinced Chrissy to come here with him?”

Robin only shrugs. “He’s not a bad guy, Beebs. I think deep down, you know that.”

You bite your tongue. It is not your place. Your personal grievances are not your friends’ problems. “Maybe, but they’re so different.”

Robin shrugs. “It was either Chrissy or—“ She cuts herself off abruptly, and when you try to meet her eyes she averts them.

“Or who, Rob?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing, never mind. Hey, look! Your brother’s here!”

You cock an eyebrow at her, but she’s not budging, pointing towards the entryway where your brother is being greeted in all directions. Someone hands him a beer, while another friend sparks a joint before passing it to him. It amazes you how loved your brother is after the hell he raises, and people barely register you exist, let alone that you’re his sister.

“Hey, kiddos!” Chris breaks away from his mob of fans to greet you and Robin, embracing you both in a group hug. Luckily, your brother doesn’t give a shit about how cool the rest of Hawkins thinks you are. He offers a hand out to Steve behind you. “Thank you for putting all this together, man. Means a lot.” Robin opens her mouth to argue, but closes it when Chris looks at her. “And thank you for letting him destroy your place for the night. I’ll help you with the damage in the morning.” He winks at Robin, who gives him the biggest toothy smile possible.

“Chris, man, you comin’ out? We’re playin’ beer pong.” One of Chris’s buddies, Gareth, offers him the tiny plastic ball.

“Oh, fuck yeah, man. But only if you’re on my team, I'm not losing to you and Eds at my own party.”

It’s three rounds before Chris and Steve convince you to play, Gareth having tapped out for the night to puke in the bushes. Eddie snickers to his cronies as you approach the table, sliding your windbreaker from your arms. For some reason, the exposure of your skin shuts him up, and you flex your fingers dramatically before plucking the ball from Steve’s hand. “You’re goin’ down, Sweetheart.” Eddie jabs his ringed pointer finger at you, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

He seems to notice his slip up, clearing his throat dramatically. “You gonna play, or what?”

You blink once, twice before nodding, suddenly feeling the effects of your earlier drinks. Have you eaten tonight?

You aim as well as your body allows, managing to sink the ball into the back corner cup. Your friends cheer, high diving each other before each extending a hand to you, and Eddie groans, removing the plastic before downing the cup and removing it from the lineup. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Oh, please!” Robin scolds from beside you. “Ballsy for someone to say after losing two out of the last three.” The small crowd of gathered acquaintances chuckle, earning a weak glare from a very intoxicated Eddie before he sets up his shot, effortlessly dropping the ball into the center cup. You begrudgingly remove it, chugging the lukewarm beer while your friends cheer and boo, all in good fun.

It mostly continues like that, a neck and neck game between your team consisting of you, Chris, and Steve against Eddie, Jeff, and a very giggly Chrissy. By the end, the backyard is on a tilted axis, and only one cup remains in front of either team.

“You ready to tap yet?” Eddie taunts, though he’s been leaning over the table for the last couple rounds, arms bracing him from falling to the ground.

“You wish, Munson.” And you let it fly, but your face falls when you realize you’d been too cocky, too soon. It bounces higher than you’d anticipated, sailing right over the cup and onto the ground, everyone’s eyes glued to it. “Fuck.” Robin snickers and you snap your head to glare at her. “Thank you for that vote of confidence.” You sneer, and she stifles another giggle fit.

“This is it, honey, for all the marbles.” You think he’s talking to Chrissy until he winks directly at you, the corner of his mouth pinching into a smirk. You look from him to his date to find her pouting, eyebrows scrunched together and arms crossed. You raise an eyebrow, unsure how to reassure the former cheerleader.

While you’re not looking, Eddie sinks the ball. Which, let’s be honest, you knew that was coming. You roll your eyes and lift the piss flavored drink to your lips, chugging with an open throat to avoid tasting it. Your friends and brother cheer you on, and when you slam the solo cup onto the table, you let out a massive belch. Eddie’s grin has split into a toothy beam, eyes wide with wonder, penetrating your very soul. Fuckin’ weirdo.

When your dizziness has subsided, you find Robin on the makeshift dance floor, a drink dangerously spilling over in her hand. “Hey, grouchy!” She calls you over, beckoning with her dance moves. You play along, pretending to be roped in by her lasso. “What’s got you all frowny now?”

You shrug, shaking your hips to a song you can’t place, trying to enjoy your buzz now that you’re not seeing double. “Guess I’m taking beer pong too seriously.”

Robin snorts. “Please, when have you ever given a shit about stupid drinking games?”

“I guess since Chris is home. Wanted to impress him.” Robin eyes you, biting her lip. “What?” You pry, and when she doesn’t answer, poke her in the ribs. “Cmon, spit it out.”

“I don’t think it was Chris you were trying to impress.” She winces, awaiting an outburst that doesn’t come. Instead, you reply with a monotone “Excuse me?”

She smiles tensely, all teeth and gums. “Sorry, I call em like I see em.” Robin’s eyes slide past you, landing over your shoulder. When you snap your head to find what she’s looking at, your eyes fall on Eddie, a beer forgotten in his hand as he whispers in Chrissy’s ear. He must be hilarious, because she can’t stop fucking laughing.

“Oh, you can’t be serious. You think I'm worried about what Munson has to say about me?”

She refocuses on your face, brows furrowed. “Maybe not what he has to say, but definitely what he thinks.” You gape at her, unable to respond with something clever. She only pats your shoulder. “It’s alright, you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“Okay, everyone out. You don’t have to go home, but ya can’t stay here.” Steve is waving people out the door, thanking them for destroying his and Robin’s apartment with a tired smile on his face. Finally, shuts the door. “That everyone?”

“Uh, no. We have some stragglers.”

Steve looks around the main room, then the kitchen. “Where?”

Robin juts her thumb to Steve’s bedroom. “Sorry, man.” You stifle a giggle with a cough, throwing another beer can into the recycling bin.

“Every damn time!” Steve stomps up to the door and starts banging. “Hey, party’s over. Put your pants back on!” He throws his bedroom door open, and you and Robin peer over his shoulders like nosy children.

“Whoa!” The larger figure scrambles, throwing the duvet over their head, while the smaller one shrieks, covering her face as Steve flicks the light on.

“Oh, come on. Eddie?”

“Hi, Stevie.” He slowly emerges from the blanket. “Funny running into you here.”

“It’s my room, idiot! Get out!”

“Okay, okay! Shit, I thought you wanted my help cleaning this shithole tomorrow!”

Steve huffs. “Doesn’t mean you can occupy my room and soil my sheets like this.”

Eddie gasps in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I’m very clean, just had all my shots.” Steve only glares, but he gets the message across. “Okay! Damn. Sorry, Chrissy. I’ll call you, yeah?”

The girl rolls her eyes, face still cherry red. “Whatever, Eddie.” She snatches her shirt off the ground, and Steve turns to give her privacy. “Sorry, Steve. He said it was okay.” She avoids your eyes as she leaves, Eddie waving goofily behind her. Something in your chest hurts, and you chock it up to rage.

“You want sloppy seconds, Bee?”

You ignore him, and make your way back to the kitchen to rage clean. Over your shoulder, you hear your brother exclaims something, but you can’t make it out.

#st #fics #munson #sdf #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #fem!reader #oc!reader #fboy!eddie #mean!eddie #enemies to lovers #angst #hurt/comfort #hurt/no comfort #modern au #strangerthingscentral #willow writes sins

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 3 months ago

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You Should Come Thru (Hawks x Self-Insert!Reader 18+ One Shot) [COMMISSION FILL]

Fan Art by @almaadst ❤️❤️

Pairing: Keigo "Hawks" Takami x Black!Self-Insert!Reader

Synopsis: After a month of hard work, no play, and a bad date, Hawks invites you over to his apartment for some tea to relax and finally get some time with his bestie, but as the night grows long, you suddenly lose your filter and begin telling him things that he shouldn’t know. All because of his very special tea.

Tags: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Friends to Lovers; Hurt/Comfort; Marijuana Consumption; Stripping; Mutual Oral; Mutual Masturbation; Body Worship; Voyeurism; High Sex; Dubcon (only because of the weed but there is verbal consent given); Facesitting; Riding; Mild Choking; Mirror Sex; Dom!Hawks/sub!Reader; Mild Namecalling; Wing Stroking; Unprotected Sex; Creampie; Aftercare

Writer's Note: Thank you again to @curiouscutie143 for trusting me with your fantasies & ideas enough to bring them to life! -Jazz

**********

When you knock on his door that late night, Keigo already knows you are standing behind it.

He smiles at seeing your face in the peephole and opens the door without a greeting. Seeing you there still in your work dress, shoes, and pantyhose from before, he leans against the door frame and smirks at you despite your tired expression. “Well, what a surprise,” he says, sarcasm evident. “I don’t suppose you’re selling something?”

You hold your tote bag and a box from the restaurant you went to tonight in your hands. “If you think it’s a free dessert that the waitress gave me ‘cause she felt so bad for me, then yes, I do,” you glumly reply. “Can I come in?”

Keigo’s smile grows as he runs a hand through his short-cropped, blonde hair. “Shit, you kiddin’ me?” he chuckles. “Nothing’s better than pity dessert. Come right in.”

He opens the door wider, allowing you to walk inside the gorgeous, empty penthouse. Judging by Keigo’s attire of sweats, a white tee, and some slides, he was busy cleaning up for your arrival. The counters are clean, the pillows are fluffed and organized on the couch, and the TV is playing the newest episode of “Dinner In Dungeon” on Netflix.

“Take off your shoes,” he says, shutting the door behind you. “You look like you need to.”

You immediately do so, sitting down on the expensive couch in front of the TV to kick off the flats that you’ve been wearing all day at work. Keigo comes over to take the box of dessert from your dinner date, giving you a soothing smile as he does.

“Thank you again for letting me come over, Kei,” you sigh, relieved to have your feet released from the traps of your shoes. “I’m sorry it’s so late.” He pulls a sour face at you. “Don’t apologize,” he says. “My crib, your crib. Besides, I invited you over here after work to chill, remember?”

He turns to walk into his pristine, thousand-dollar kitchen with its granite counters, silver steel appliances, wine cooler, and personal mini-bar that has long since been used less since he eased up on his drinking. After Keigo got his burn scars from his fight with Dabi that almost claimed his life, he turned into a whole different person…for the better.

He cropped his hair down to snip off the burned ends from the fire, bulked up a bit more so his muscles are more defined, and he stays out of the limelight more than he used to. Less clubs, fewer groupies, and less expensive shopping sprees. The burn scars on his cheek, neck, and back are testaments of the changes he’s gone through.

But he’s still the same man you’ve been friends with for years now. You first met him three years ago when he opened his account with your bank with you as his teller. Years later, you’re still his teller and your friendship is stronger than ever. You’d never do anything to change that…even though deep down, you secretly want to.

“Well, that was to relax because you think I’m killing myself with work; not to trauma dump about my string of bad dates.” You kick your feet up on the couch, wriggling your painted toes.

Keigo pauses in the kitchen and walks back over to the doorway, leaning his hip against it. His shirt rises up a bit to show off one of his burn scars and his toned lower stomach where you see a patch of blonde hair. You look away. “Oh,” he realizes. “Tonight wasn’t the one, huh?”

You look back up at him, feeling your stress and the tension inside of you since your Uber ride here from your date melt away at the sight of his soft, almost somber expression.

“Definitely not.”

He comes over to you, holding your dessert on a plate with two forks for you both. Your waitress took it upon herself to personally give you a free chocolate mousse cake topped with whipped cream and peaches. She probably saw how unhappy you were on your Bumble date and did it as a way to make sure you didn’t stab yourself with a fork.

“Well, you know what eases stress from work and makes you feel better after bad dates?” Keigo smirks down at you, his golden eyes tinkling. “Ugh, no weed, please,” you say in disgust. “And no alcohol. I had two glasses of wine at dinner.” Hawks shoots you a look. “Don’t worry, I took an Uber here.”

“No, tea,” he finally answers, laughing lightly. “Not alcohol and of course not weed! I know you don’t smoke, silly girl…unless you do now.” He smirks at you. “Is work kicking your ass that bad?”

You roll your eyes, taking a fork to get a piece of your dessert. “Like you wouldn’t believe,” you sigh. “Ever since I took that promotion, it’s like they’re running me ragged over there. The only good thing is that this pay leaves me with extra money after the bills and rent are paid.”

You’ve had your job as a bank teller for over six years now and you take it very seriously…however, when you clock out, you don’t take calls or texts from work. Your time out of work is your own which you usually spend sleeping. Ever since you received your promotion several months ago because of your great work ethic, you haven’t spent much time doing much except working and sleeping. Which means your time with Keigo has taken the back burner.

“Well, tell me all about it while I getcha a cup,” he says, taking a forkful of the cake before walking into the kitchen. “Take the load off and relax.” You hear him putz around in the kitchen, clinging this and clanking that, while you eat your dessert. It is rich and sweet with the peaches adding the right amount of juiciness and syrupy sweetness.

“Don’t get me wrong, the job has great benefits, but…sometimes, I feel like I’m gonna disappear. I barely have time to hang out with you now.” You frown, thinking off all of those video game nights and days on the town that have vanished because of your exhaustion. When you come home from work, you immediately hit the hay like you haven’t slept in decades.

And on the weekend, a time that is meant for freedom, you’re spending it in your apartment getting ready for work again! It’s exhausting!

“Oh, I know,” Keigo calls. “That’s why I invited you over. What kind of tea ya want?” You lay back against the pillows, putting your hands on your plump stomach. “What do you got?”

“Uhhh, Merlo, orange blossom, camomile, lemon mint, lavender—“

“Lemon mint, please,” you decide. “With honey and sugar.” Keigo’s fluttery laughter exits the kitchen as he fills a kettle of water and puts it on the stove. “V, we’ve been friends for years. I know how you take your tea after making it for you for so long. Keep talking.”

You smile, glad to have someone who knows you so well. You groan, your feet flopping against the couch tiresomely. “I'm just so tired all of the time now. I don’t even look forward to my days off because all I do is sleep!”

After a few minutes of the tea kettle whistling and more putting around in the kitchen, Keigo exits the kitchen with a tray of two tea cups, organized tea bags, and the cutest little pots of sugar and lemon slices you’ve ever seen. He sits down beside you on the couch and fixes you a cup. ”I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you,” you sigh apologetically. “Even with your hero work, you still make time for me.”

His golden eyes cut over to you, serious yet soft. “Hey,” he firmly says. “Stop. Life is hard. Adulting sucks. We’re still friends regardless of work and responsibilities. Now drink.”

He hands you a cup of your tea, the scent of lemon mingled with mint filling your nostrils. You hold the warm cup against your nose and breathe in the steam before taking a much-needed sip. You’re immediately filled with warmth. “Ah,” you sigh. “That’s nice.”

Keigo leans back against the couch with you, spreading his legs as he sips his tea and visibly relaxes into the couch. You keep your eyes straight ahead, not wanting to stare dead at his thighs or his groin though it’s right in earshot. “See? Works like magic…though weed works too.” He breathes in his lavender tea and takes a sip, his eyes fluttering shut. You like seeing him relaxed like this. He looks way more handsome to you in this state.

You don’t quite know when you started thinking this way about your friend. You just know that these thoughts have yet to go away. But you won’t dare acknowledge them or tell him anything. Keigo is your bestie and that is how he’ll stay. You two have been through way too much as friends and have too much of a great relationship for you to ruin it with emotions you can’t decipher or make sense of.

He turns to you now, pulling your feet into his lap. “So tell me about this date you had tonight. Didn’t you say it was with some guy you met on Bumble?”

You nod, sipping your tea. “Yeah, we’d been talking for about two weeks and decided to meet for dinner. Really, I just agreed because he was paying and I thought it’d be a good distraction from work, but…”

You pause, not really wanting to delve into tonight’s story about your horrible date. You started dating again five months ago, going through dating apps like Bumble, Tinder, and Hinge. You figured trying to find a nice, loving relationship wouldn’t hurt, but so far, your efforts have been futile. If you haven’t found hookups, you’ve found a slew of bad dates with mansplainers, closet incels, and the scummiest losers on these apps. The most recent one takes the cake.

Keigo raises an eyebrow at you. “But?” he encourages. “Damn, was he that bad?” He laughs a bit, though he tries to stifle it as much as he can.

You sigh, picturing your date tonight. He was a beautiful man on the outside—Colgate smile, curly hair, nice body—, but on the inside, you felt like you’d need all kinds of cleaning products to clean up his nasty personality. “Well, let’s just say I won't be calling him again.”

Keigo laughs at this and you shove him in the arm. “At dinner, all he talked about was himself, he kept sneakily checking out other girls even though I saw, and then he acted like I had to give him “some” just because he paid even though he said he would! I even suggested we split!”

The pro grows increasingly interested in hearing about this, especially hearing that your date was clearly a whore. “Well, what did he say?” he asks. You stare at the TV, not really watching the show. “He just kept trying to get me to go home with him, telling me he had good beer back at his place. When I said no, he looked fed up.”

You take a sip of your tea, becoming more open with every sip. “Like, I should’ve been the one who was fed up,” you scoff. “I had to force him to ask questions about me at dinner because he kept droning on about the fact that he’s a licensed plumber and how he usually meets girls below his caliber.”

You roll your eyes, something you’ve been doing all night. You’re shocked they haven’t rolled into the back of your head or fallen out yet. Keigo makes a noise between a disproving grunt and a lamented groan. “Oh, he was that type of guy.” He takes a forkful of the cake.

You do the same, your hands brushing against one another as you reach for your fork. You ignore the slight spark you feel when you touch him. “Yeah,” you sigh. “But the thing is I don’t even think he liked that I have a job where I have a higher salary than he does. He was so weird about it.”

You take another sip of the tea and pause, realizing that you’re not as angry or as disappointed as before. You feel so relaxed and at ease, your body melting into the sofa. It’s like you’re at a spa, listening to soothing music while you get your feet rubbed. “God, I’m so relaxed. That’s a first in I don’t know how long.”

Keigo smiles, happy to hear this. “Well, that’s a good thing. Now….” He lowers his cup down and places a hand on your ankle. “Tell me more.” And so you do. You tell him about your bad date, your fears about being alone, your mother constantly getting on you about being single and giving her some grandbabies soon, etc.

With every sip of your magical tea, you become more open and honest with your friend, running off with the mouth about your life. Keigo listens intently, running his hands over your aching feet and flicking the TV channel every so often. He never once speaks or interrupts. He only listens, which is exactly what you need.

Finally, once the tea is almost gone, you sit back against the couch and hug a pillow to your chest. “I don’t think he’s ever gonna call again,” you continue, referring to your Bumble date. “And I don’t care! I’m so tired of meeting the same jerks who only wanna brag about themselves to anyone who will listen and only look at women as sex toys.”

Keigo pushes the plate of empty cake aside, pouring you more tea in the process. “Not to sound like your dad or anything, but why do you even wanna try if the dating pool is so shitty?”

You take a moment to think about it, mostly because your mind is moving so slowly. It’s like everything is moving in slow motion. Maybe going on your date after work wasn’t a good idea. “I just figured it wouldn’t hurt to try to find somebody good.” Keigo raises an eyebrow at you. “Somebody good?” he asks. “What does a “good” partner look like to you, V?”

You are stunned by the question and suddenly at a loss of words. You’re not sure why. You’ve had these types of conversations with Keigo all the time! But suddenly, you feel nervous and like the walls around you are closing in.

“Like…I dunno….someone who listens and is interested in me. Someone who’s understanding, caring, kind…someone who doesn’t always think about themselves. Someone who I can count on for anything.”

Keigo doesn’t say anything. He just fixes you with an unreadable yet almost personal expression. “Don’t get it twisted though: I love my life as it is!” you quickly add. “I’ve got a great job, a crib, a car, friends, family...I don’t want you to think I’m desperate for a man to make me feel complete.”

The blonde sips on his tea, looking confused at your sudden interest in proving to him that you’re not desperate for a man. “I didn’t say that.”

But you continue on: “It would just be nice, y’know, to have a loving relationship. Sometimes I get lonely and I think that I’ll die alone with my cat.” You play with your fingers, looking at anything but him. You don’t want to see the pity in his eyes.

“I know that it’s just me being stupid and overthinking shit, but it’d be nice to have someone I click with, like we do,” you confess. “I’d like a partner like…you.”

That’s who you want in a partner. Someone who thinks of you like they think of themselves. Someone who is there for you to lend an ear, a shoulder to cry on, or a smile that gives you butterflies. Someone who you look forward to seeing and makes you happy when you think about them. Someone like your good friend, Keigo.

Shyly, you look at him and you can see the stun in his eyes at your confession. Realizing how this sounds, your body and face flame up. “No, no, not like that!” You protest, flustered. “I-I just mean I’d want a guy like you as a partner. Y’know, someone who makes me feel safe and secure. Beautiful, even.”

The silence that swells around you is intense and uncomfortable. You should’ve just kept your mouth shut. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” you awkwardly chuckle. “There must be truth serum in this tea or somethin’.” You lower your cup down on the coffee table, pushing it away as if it’s poison.

“Actually, no,” Keigo says. “It’s weed.”

You pause, letting the wheels turn in your head as you process what he just said. “....What?” you finally ask. “You’re joking.” You even giggle to yourself, but he doesn’t. You can tell from the look he’s giving you. “You’re serious,” you realize.

He sips on his tea, somehow proving it to you by doing so. “Deadass,” he replies.

“Hawks, what the fuck?!” You shout, sitting up from the couch. “Why would you do that?! You know I don’t smoke!” Keigo clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Oh, relaaaax,” he draws. “I didn’t put that much in it. Just enough to relax you. If I would’ve asked, you would’ve said no.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t say no!” you protest, jumping up from the couch. “Because I don’t do drugs!”

“Well, neither do I!” he retorts, standing up with you. “I’m not a pill popper or nothing, V. It’s just weed. All it does is soothe your nerves, gives you the munchies, and makes you sleep. Speakin’ of munchies, I’ve got some fried chicken takeout left in the fridge.”

“And it also makes your anxiety skyrocket,” you angrily argue. “That explains why I’m runnin’ off with the mouth and sayin’ shit that I shouldn’t be saying!”

You place a hand on your head, feeling it thump like a heartbeat. Speaking of heartbeat, you become hyper-aware of how much it has increased in the last few minutes and now, you can’t stop focusing on it. “God,” you exhale. You close your eyes, trying to slow your breathing and your racing mind.

Keigo immediately turns around and rushes to you, laying a hand on your back. “You okay?” he asks, worried. Once he realizes what’s happening, he immediately springs into action and takes your hand. Slowly, he leads you back over to the couch and sits you down.

“Stay there,” he says and as fast as lightning, he zooms back to the kitchen to get you some water and flaps back over on his big, red, fluffy wings like an angel. “Sip this,” he says, handing you the glass. “Just relax, honey. You’re okay. It’s just the weed talkin’.”

He gently touches your knee and rubs it as you drink the ice water, taking slow sips. You try to ignore how hot you feel with him touching you, but it’s impossible to ignore. It’s been a long time since a touch has made you feel like this. His voice too—so soft and silky. “I promise I didn’t put that much in there,” he says, sounding guilty. “But maybe I shouldn’t have put any in at all. I’m sorry, V. I just didn’t like seein’ you so tired.”

His hand gently grasps your knee and you shudder like he’s touching bare skin. “I had hoped this would relax you. You walk around like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders, y’know? The bad dates don’t make it better.”

He looks at you then. Really looks at you, like he sees all of you—the woman you are, the woman he sees, and the woman you want to be. All in those golden irises like sunken treasure. “You deserve to be happy,” he softly says. “And you deserve to have a partner who will make your happiness and well-being their top priority. I hope whoever it is knows how amazing of a person they’ve got.”

And in his eyes and his handsome face, you see it. He’s telling the truth. Suddenly, you feel warm and those butterflies start flapping away in the pit of your stomach. Looking at him, you think to yourself that all that you want in a partner…could it be that maybe, just maybe, who you want is…him?

Suddenly, your hand moves on its own and cups Keigo’s face. He flinches slightly, stunned by the sudden movement, but he doesn’t push you away. “V?” he whispers, furrowing his brows at you.

Wordlessly, you lean in slowly, assessing his face and giving him time to pull away. He doesn’t. It’s like you’re watching yourself from the outside, but you can’t stop yourself from pressing your lips to his. The kiss is tentative and short, but it absolutely sets your entire body ablaze. His lips are soft and taste faintly of lavender from the tea. His cologne engulfs your nostrils, making your hormones run wild.

It’s the best kiss you’ve ever had in your life…and it just so happens that it’s with your best friend.

You pull away, both of you silently staring at one another, shocked by how great of a kiss that was and what the fuck just happened. Keigo doesn’t freak out or even remotely act like he didn’t enjoy it. He only whispers, “V”, his voice barely above a whisper. But it’s enough to send your mind careening back down to Earth. “I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice small. “I didn’t…I-I don’t know why I—“

But Keigo stops you by turning your face towards his again and kissing you once more. This one is longer and slower. He takes his sweet time getting to know your lips and introducing you to his, his hand gently cupping your cheek, his thumb stroking your jaw. It feels good.

So good, in fact, that you find your hands moving to his shoulders, your fingers feeling up his toned arms and biceps. It feels good. He feels so good. You can’t believe how right it feels to be kissing and touching him. Slowly, he pulls away, his breathing ragged. “We should probably talk about this.”

But you pull him back in for more kisses, these ones eager and heated. “We can talk later,” you whisper. “Just keep kissing me.” He listens to you, a soft moan leaving his lips as your tongue caresses his bottom lip. He parts his lips, granting you access, and your tongues begin to swirl amongst each other as your hands wander. You feel the, on your waist, your back, your ass, squeezing and kneading.

At some point, Keigo walks you back to the couch and sits down first, pulling you on top of him. A soft, surprised moan escapes you as his hands grip your ass, keeping you locked in his lap. You straddle him and his groin, encasing him in the heat between your luscious, jiggly thighs. You keep kissing, your hands sliding down his chest, indulging in his muscles, and wanting so much to feel his bare skin.

He pulls away with a soft pop as your lips disconnect, his gaze hooded and dazed as he stares up at you. “You feel so good here,” he sighs. “You’re so soft.” He pushes himself against you as he begins to pepper your neck with soft kisses. You moan, tossing your head back, letting him litter your throat in slow, wet smooches. Unconsciously, your body responds by grinding against him, causing something very hard to grow between your thighs.

You gasp, looking down at his bulge. You got your best friend hard! He gives you a sheepish look with an endearingly awkward smile. “Sorry. You’ve got me excited.” A fire ignites inside of you, desperate to be freed. It might be the weed, but you feel just as excited and aroused as he is. “That’s the idea,” you giggle. You lean in to kiss him, nibbling on his bottom lip. “Bedroom. Please.”

Keigo’s eyes flash with worry, your plea awakening something in him. “Are you sure you want this?” he whispers. “We can stop here if you want to—“

“No,” you exhale, shaking your head. “I don’t wanna stop. I want this.” To prove your point, you take his hand and slide it between your thighs for him to feel your second heartbeat. Your pussy is throbbing and sobbing for him, quickly becoming more insistent on being touched. Keigo’s mouth parts, a shuddering breath leaving his lips.

You watch his wings shudder and ruffle as if you’ve touched them. He’s told you before that his feathers are sensitive. You make a mental note to experiment with them later as he cups his hands under your ass. “Hang onto me then,” he orders. “Don’t look down, okay, darlin’?”

The pet name makes you feel hot all over and you nod, holding onto him tight. You lock your arms and legs around him as he stands up with you in his arms and gently flutters his wings. Though you gasp as you’re suddenly levitating off of the ground, you close your eyes and hug him close as he flies up the stairs to his bedroom. He chuckles at your reaction having not taken you flying before. He’ll have to do that later.

Once you get to his bedroom, he gently puts you down on your feet and shuts the door. You look around the spacious room, noticing the sweet smell of roses and the cleanliness of it. The balcony on the left side of the room next to the bed is cracked, bringing in a soft summer breeze. “I can’t believe I’ve never seen your bedroom before.” You turn to him, noticing him sizing you up in a way that excites you. “You never had to.”

You turn back to the king-sized bed, big enough for at least four people with a soft-looking red comforter, pillows, and… “Is that…a mirror?!” you gasp, looking up at the ceiling. There, in the square-shaped mirror hovering above the bed, you see yourself staring back.

Keigo comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Yeah, I know; I’m a freak. Is this okay with you?” His concern for your comfort turns you on even more. You’ve never seen yourself have sex before, but the idea of looking up into the mirror and watching yourself take dick and tongue while seeing Keigo’s handsome face contort in pleasure makes your pussy spill all in your panties.

You turn around in his arms and nod, too aroused to speak. He lazily smirks at you, his eyes hooded from arousal and the weed. “Then help me out of these clothes, will ya?” He groans, pulling on his pants. “I can’t take much more of this waiting game, babe.”

You can’t either. You’re dying to see what he looks like without clothes. “You get naked first,” you suggest, a purr in your voice. He fulfills your wish and works his pants off while you peel off his shirt. At one point, Keigo almost falls trying to get his pants off, making you both giggle hysterically.

Keigo gets very giggly and goofy when he’s high, something you know from many calls where he’s been high as a kite and you’re trying to sleep. Apparently, you get giggly too, unable to stop laughing. The clothes continue to come off until he’s just in his undies, exposing all kinds of savory, tanned muscle that you can’t help but touch, stroke, kiss, and lick. Keigo moans and tangles a hand in your hair as you do as you please, whispering, “Fuck, baby” and arousing “Mmm-hmms” as you do.

When you pull away, you ogle at his burn scars for a moment, trailing your fingers over the rough patches of skin. You feel Keigo tense as you do and look up into his eyes, seeing insecurity. Quickly, you soften this by cupping his face in your hands. “I like you like this,” you whisper. “Gives you character.”

Keigo cracks a smile and laughs, the sight adorable to you as your thumbs stroke his cheeks. “Your turn, darlin’.” Slowly, he begins to peel off your dress, slowly kissing you as he does. It’s one of those painfully slow, sloppy kisses with tongue that leave you weak in the knees and craving more of him.

Once your dress and bra are off, Keigo sits you down on the bed and works on getting your pantyhose down. He watches you watch him pull the nylon stockings down your thighs, exposing your milky, brown skin and luscious thighs that he can’t help but stroke and grip as he leans over to kiss you.

His lips trail down to your breasts, making you moan as his soft lips touch your hardened nipples. When he latches his mouth around one of them and gently sucks, you gasp and grasp his hair, arching your chest into his mouth. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs. “How the fuck could any man fuck up a date with you?”

He turns his attention to your other nipple, giving it the same attention he just gave the one now tingling and coated in his spit. He toys with your tits, molding and squeezing them gently in your hands, loving how soft and heavy they are. Loud moans escape you as you tangle your fingers in his blonde locks, your pussy throbbing in your panties. “Keigo,” you mewl. “Baby, touch me.”

He pulls away from your nipple to speak: I am, darlin’,” he chuckles. “Where else do you want me?” His golden eyes twinkle up at you with lust and mirth. Your fingers slide down to your clothed pussy, silently telling him just where you want him. You guide his hand there, but he stops. Instead, he keeps your hand there, staring at you. “No…show me.”

You blink at him, confused. Gently, he pushes your legs open more to expose yourself to him. Then he sits up on his knees beside you and, his eyes still locked with yours, takes down his briefs to show you his very hard, very thick, very pretty cock. You gape at it, marveling at the vein trailing from the pink, bulbous head dripping in pre-cum to the base where his heavy balls hang. “Show me how you touch yourself and I’ll show you.”

It feels like fire has crackled beneath your skin and in your veins as you do what he says. Slowly, still overcome by the weed, you pull your panties aside to reveal your glistening, wet cunt to him. “Shit,” he sighs. “You have such a pretty pussy.”

You whimper pitifully at his nasty compliment, rubbing your clit in slow circles. You feel deliciously dirty and sexy under his gaze as he watches you, his hand stroking his dick in tandem with your slow pace. You pay attention to how his hand grips the thick base and strokes upward before going down, wanting to do the same.

The more you stroke your pussy while he strokes his cock, soft moans and hums of pleasure leaving his pillowy-soft lips, the more you want to go further. Sitting here with your legs open and your fingers teasing your wet pussy while he gently pumps his cock in your face is the most erotic thing you’ve ever experienced. You need more of him.

You tilt your head up and begin giving the head of his cock kitten licks and kisses, earning soft moans in response. Peering up at him under your lashes, you beg him with your eyes to give you what you want. “You want this?” he asks, pressing his cock against your cheek. You nod, parting your lips as he slides his cock over to gently rub it against your mouth.

You open your mouth wider, allowing him to slide his cock in your mouth. “Fuck,” he groans, his gorgeous eyes rolling in the back of his head as his cock settles against your tongue. He lets you take the reins, only slowly thrusting in time with the slow bops of your head and sucks. You take your time blowing him, wanting to get to know his cock. He is thick and stretches out your throat, causing you to have to breathe through your nostrils and feel an ache in your jaw.

But it feels so good. You love how he feels in your mouth. You love how he tastes. You love how warm he feels encased in your mouth and throat. You love the amount of spit that collects in your mouth and drips down your chin as you continue to blow him, using your free hand to play with his balls. “God,” he moans, his hand tangling in your hair. “You feel so good, V, what the fuck.”

He feels good too. Your pussy gets wetter, your juices slipping down to your asscrack, as you continue to rub yourself in time with your slow deep throating. You absolutely love sucking his cock. It doesn’t take long for that knot in your core to begin tightening and you rub a little faster. “Kei,” you exhale around his cock. “I-I’m ‘bout to…I’m gonna—“

“No.” Keigo’s golden eyes flash at you, firm. “Stop.” You do as he says, slowing down before coming to a pause. “Sit on my face,” he bluntly says. You blink at him, stunned. “What?” you dumbly ask.

“You heard me, baby: sit. On my. Face.” His hand slides down to cup yours over your pussy. “I want you to do what I’ve dreamed of you doin’ to me for years and that’s cumming in my mouth.” A cocky smirk pulls at his lips. “Don’t worry. I can handle you. If I die, I die happy.”

You roll your eyes while he laughs, but you still think it over.

You’ve never sat on a guy’s face before. It’s the first time you’ll be doing so. What if he’s uncomfortable? What if you can’t breathe and you accidentally smother him? What if you crush his neck with your full weight? Those pesky “what ifs” continue to haunt you, but at the sight of Keigo’s lustful eyes and warm smile, they begin to dissipate.

So you agree. “Pat my thigh twice if it’s too much,” you say, earning a scoff in return. He then crawls up to the top of the bed, giving you a view of his great ass, and flops onto his back, head against the pillows. His smile widens and he motions you to come hither, his cock standing at attention for you.

Suddenly feeling shy but not wanting to back out, you slowly crawl over to him and on top of him, your thighs straddling his chest. “Uh…so how do I do this?” you awkwardly ask. He laughs, his chest vibrating beneath you. “Well, first, you’ve gotta get close to my face, baby. Don’t worry; you won’t fall. Just sit on me.”

Drawn to his smile and encouragement like a moth to a flame, you sit up on your knees and scoot closer until you’re hovering over his handsome face. His eyes peer up at you, coaxing you to come down. Slowly, you do and almost immediately, your jaw drops, and your eyes go wide at the immense pleasure you feel when his tongue hits your clit.

“Oh, God!” you cry out, grabbing onto the headboard for dear life so you don’t spray all over your best friend’s face. In this position, he can reach everything, from his tongue caressing your clit and the folds of your cunt to his hands gripping and massaging your ass. He’s able to drink right from the source now, so he does so. He slurps and drinks like a thirsty man from your pussy, falling in love with how you taste.

And you fall in love with his mouth. You can’t help but grind yourself against his nose as he slurps at your pussy, his tongue moving magically between your folds. “Fuck, Hawks, yes!” you sob, tossing your head back. “Fuck, please, keep going! Oh, don’t stop!”

From between your soft, sweet, thick thighs, you can hear Keigo mumbling about how good you taste and whimpering as he continues to slurp your pussy. You’ve never heard him whimper before. It sounds so pathetic yet so sexy coming from him, the sounds vibrating against your pussy. “Fuck me,” he pleas from underneath you. “Fuck my face, baby.”

So you do. You can’t help it. His mouth just feels too good! Your hips move on their own, grinding and rolling, causing your pussy to glide along his tongue and your clit to bump against his nose. His face becomes your surfboard and you’re trying desperately to catch that wave of pleasure that will surely cause a wipeout for you. Your moans and cries grow louder, bouncing off the bedroom walls, possibly alerting the neighbors of how good you’re getting fucked.

Finally, that knot in your core reaches its limit and you feel yourself come undone in Keigo’s mouth. “I’m cumming!” you gasp, using one hand to grip Keigo’s hair. “Fuck, baby, I’m cumming!” Greedily, Keigo takes all that you give him, his tongue moving slowly yet deliciously along your wet slit as you cum in his mouth.

He moans eagerly, taking everything you give him that floods into his mouth like the most delicious waterfall. Your moans are like music to him, making his cock strain and ache. He needs to bust at this point! When you begin to feel overstimulated, he finally stops and you roll off of him.

You flop onto your back on the mattress, panting heavily and staring up at your body in the mirror. Your brown skin glistens in sweat and your hair is a tousled mess. Keigo gently strokes your side, his pants matching yours. “That was perfect,” he sighs. Tiredly, you nod. “You okay?” He worriedly asks.

You’ve never felt better. But now you want more. So you turn to him and kiss him, tasting yourself off of his lips. “I want more,” you whisper. You don’t need to elaborate any more than that for him. “Lemme just get some stuff,” he murmurs, kissing your lips before moving to his nightstand drawer.

There, he retrieves a bottle of edible lube and a water bottle for you. As you drink the water, you peek over his shoulder, spotting a pack of pre-rolled blunts that he no doubt smokes while he’s in here. Shockingly, you put a hand on his shoulder and nod down at the blunts. “Take one out,” you say. “I wanna try somethin’.”

Keigo looks shocked since you seemed so freaked out about weed initially, but he does as you say and places the blunt and a lighter on an ashtray on the nightstand. You coax him to lean back, relishing how eager he seems as he lets you do as you want to him. You then straddle him, his hard cock pressing against your mound, and press your lips to his ear.

“I wanna smoke while I ride you,” you whisper. “I want you to blow smoke in my mouth while you watch me take your cock.”

Keigo shudders at your dirty suggestion, swearing under his breath. “Ya mean shotgunning?” He chuckles, raising an eyebrow at you. You flush bashfully, shrugging. You’ve only ever seen the act in movies, but the idea of it turns you on, especially when you’re taking cock. “I like you freaky like this,” he pants, gently nibbling your bottom lip. “Go ahead then, baby. Take your time.”

So you do. You use the lube on him, stroking the cold substances up and down his shaft. He shivers at the chill until the lube warms up in your palm, your ministrations making him moan and whimper. “C’mon, mama,” he groans. “You’ll make me cum before I’m even inside you yet.”

You add some lube around your entrance despite being as wet as an ocean. But you decide that you want to feel all of him, so you want to be as slick as possible. Taking hold of his shoulder with one hand while he securely handles your hips, you take his cock into your hand and rub it against your slit. He locks eyes with you, enjoying seeing the pleasure in them. “Fuck me,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Take me, baby.”

Slowly, you press the head against your entrance and gently slide down his shaft. You take his head first, the sensations you both feel causing you to gasp in unison. Then, inch by inch, you take more of his thick cock inside of your soft, curvy body. You slowly rock your hips and bounce up and down in his lap, taking him deeper and deeper with every passing second. “Mmm, fuck, Keigo,” you whine, gripping his hips as you bounce on his dick. “You feel so fucking good!”

Keigo would tell you the same, but he’s too busy watching your pretty ass take his cock like a good girl. He loves the way your stomach jiggles; how soft your back rolls feel as he traces his fingers over them; how your tits bounce and your thighs ripple. You’re truly a specimen, especially when high.

Speaking of high, he remembers the blunt he put on the nightstand and reaches for it, never once taking his eyes off of you. He grabs the blunt and his lighter, still watching you ride him. “You’re doin’ so well for me, baby,” he groans. “You feel so fuckin’ amazing. Keep bouncin’ on me, okay?”

You nod, continuing to sink down onto his cock as you watch him light his blunt. He wraps his lips around one of the ends and puffs once, twice, three times as the other end burns red from the lighter. Keigo then tosses the lighter aside and inhales deeply. The smoke billows from his lips as he exhales, his golden eyes hooded and lazy.

“Mind if I smoke?” he jokingly asks, smiling lazily at you. You’ve never seen him look sexier. “C’mere,” he murmurs. He puts the blunt to his mouth again and inhales, holding the smoke between his cheeks.

You lean in and make a small O shape with your puckered lips. He leans in and exhales slowly, blowing the smoke in a steady stream into your mouth. The weed smoke combined with his dick inside of you is a different kind of high. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment before opening again, dazed and slightly red.

Keigo lets out a sexy chuckle as he watches your eyes glaze over. “Nice, right?” You slowly nod, smiling deliriously at him. As you slowly grind your clit against his stomach, you lean in again, wanting more. “You want another one, huh?” he asks. “Keep fucking me just like that then.”

You do as he says and brace yourself on his shoulders, letting him shotgun you again for an indirect kiss. It quickly turns into a direct, sloppy tongue kiss as he presses his mouth to yours. The scent of marijuana and his spicy cologne mingles in your nostrils, somehow making you wetter and more needy. “Put your hand on my throat,” you beg. “Please, Keigo!” A fire flashes behind Keigo’s eyes, excited by your sluttiness.

His big, red wings suddenly move around you as if to shield you from everything but him as his hand shoots out to gently grasp our throat. “Fuck, babe, you’re so hot like this. Who knew all it took to turn you into a little slut was some weed?”

He watches you between his golden slits of eyes, his lips pressed together in pleasure as he feels your slick pussy stroke him again and again, both of you softly moaning in the darkness of his bedroom. The bed creaks and bounces underneath you, your ass softly clapping against Keigo’s thighs. The lewd sounds of you fucking only makes you move a little faster and harder. “Fuck, Kei,” you whine. “I’m gonna…gonna cum soon.”

Through gritted teeth, Keigo nods, his face flushed. “Shit, I know,” he hisses. “Me too. Need to..need to fuck you harder.” Without warning, he shoots forward, wraps an arm around you, and begins to lift his lips up to fuck you back. You gasp and toss your head back, eyes closed from the ecstasy and his thick cock stroking your insides. Your clit rubs against his pelvis with every thrust, getting you closer to your end.

“No,” Keigo growls. “Open your eyes.” You do so and look down into his lust-blown eyes. “Look up,” he demands. “Look at yourself getting fucked, V. Look at you take that fucking dick.”

You slowly look up into the mirror, watching the woman above you. Her tits jiggle and bounce like ripe, hanging fruit; her soft, plump body ripples as the handsome man below her fucks up into her, bringing her closer to the brink of orgasm. Her face is contorted in pleasure, her brows furrowed and lips parted as moans and gasps leave her lips. She is beautiful. And she is you.

Seeing you look so hot getting fucked like that…God, it’s too much. You dig your nails into Keigo’s shoulders and press your face into his neck, wailing from the pleasure. “Oh, fuck!” you cry out. “Fuck yes, baby, I’m gonna…gonna…oh, fuck!” Your orgasm sneaks up on you like the killer in a slasher flick and tears you up from the inside. You come apart at the seams on Keigo’s cock, clenching and throbbing around him as you cum.

Keigo is right behind you, slamming his hips sloppily into yours as he tries to chase that high, even babbling as he does. “That’s it, baby, cum on my cock,” he moans. “Fuck, fuck, fuck yeah, I’m gonna cum too!”

To get him there quicker, you begin to gently stroke his wings, starting from the wing bone to the tips of his feathers, earning a soft white and a shudder in response to your ministrations.

After a few more thrusts and a ruffle of his wings as you slide your fingers against them, Keigo’s muscles clench and he holds onto you for dear life. Ah!” he gasps as he explodes deep inside of you. You weakly moan as you feel his warm cum flood your insides, making your pussy and thighs feel wet and sticky. “Take it all,” he exhales against your chest. “Take all of me, V. It’s yours.”

You whimper and shudder against him, overcome by your and his orgasms. The aftershocks begin to set in, causing you to hold onto him as the aftermath of the sex begins to fade. After it does, you feel exhausted. Silence swells between you both despite Keigo still being inside of you. With a soft moan, he carefully slides out of you and flops onto his back.

You roll off of him and lay beside him onto the cool comforter. For a while, you just lay side by side, never saying a word. Your heavy pants turn into one, mingling with the sound of cars outside. In the silence, reality sets in: you just had sex with your best friend.

Keigo clears his throat, breaking the silence. “Uh, that was…” He trails off, trying to find the right word, but not being able to.

“Yeah,” you agree. It was fucking amazing. But also fucking strange.

Slowly, the winged blonde turns toward you, one wing moving to cover you like a feathery, crimson blanket. “Do you wanna talk about what just happened?” he asks. “‘Cause I think we should.” You don’t say anything because what can you possibly say to this?

Keigo props his cheek up on his fist, looking down at you in worry. “Do you regret it?” The moonlight illuminates the fear in his eyes. He’s scared you’ll say yes.

“No,” you immediately reply and you see relief set in. “But I don’t know where we go from here. I mean, we pretty much just ruined our friendship doin’ this.” You let out an awkward chuckle though your stomach flips at the idea.

“No shit,” he chuckles. “But if I can be honest with you, I’d rather us have done that than not. I just hope you know that everything I said to you is true: you are an amazing woman, V, and you do deserve an amazing partner like…” He stops immediately from saying whatever he is going to say.

“Like who? You?” you joke. You look up at him and snort at your own joke…but he isn’t laughing. He looks conflicted like he’s trying hard to hide what he wants to say. Your heart leaps into your throat and your stomach does a gastric flip. “Hawks?” you quietly ask.

Finally, he speaks. “I’ve had these…feelings for you for some time now,” he confesses. “I don’t know when they started, but they just appeared one day. I had always adored you as my friend, but once I realized how much I wanted that to change, I started looking at you as the woman I wanted in my life and adored you even more.”

Under his soft yet intense gaze, you feel like you’re on fire. You lay there next to him, completely frozen, afraid of ruining this moment. “I don’t wanna spring this on you,” he continues, “and if you’re uncomfortable, you can always leave. But, V, all I want is for you to be happy and I’d be lying to your face if I said I didn’t want you to be happy with me.”

He looks nervous, playing with a silver ring on his ringed fingers. You take his hands into yours, finally feeling brave enough to state the obvious: “I feel the same,” you whisper.

Hope appears in his widened eyes, his lips twitching up into a smile. “So?” he coaxes. “Are you down for this?”

It now occurs to you that all of this time you’ve been searching for the one on dating apps and in the streets when all you had to do was look right beside you at the one person you would’ve never suspected. Or expected. And it could be possible that things won’t work out, but it’s also possible that Hawks could be the best thing that ever happened to you. And you want to find out. You don’t care what happens. You just wanna enjoy this with him. “Okay,” you giggle. “Yeah…let’s give this a shot.”

With a happy smile, Keigo leans in and presses a joyful kiss to your lips, cupping your face in his warm, calloused hands. You giggle, filled with giddiness. But then that happiness is stumped when your stomach rudely begins growling.

“That’s the weed talking,” he laughs, raising his brows humorously at you. “How about we end tonight with that takeout, some more cuddling, and a round two, hm?” He takes your hands and presses two kisses to your knuckles that travel down to your pussy, making it throb impatiently.

“That sounds perfect to me,” you purr before leaning up to kiss him again.

You never do make it to round two. The weed fights back after you chomp down on fried chicken and Hawks’ snack stash in his kitchen, causing you both to drift off to sleep snuggled against each other. But you don’t mind because being snuggled up underneath him in his bed, feeling the softness of his wings wrapped around you, is the most intimate thing you could ask for.

And the next morning, in the golden light of dawn pouring in through the balcony to air out the smell of weed, he makes up for it by fucking you senseless into the afternoon.

Yeah. You definitely made the right decision.

THE END.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #black coded reader #my fic shit #bnha smut #hawks x black reader #hawks x black!reader #hawks x y/n

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calqlate · 3 months ago

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RE: LOVE & LIFE | THREE

— THOSE WHO SHARE THE MEMORY

SERIES MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

PAIRING(S): zhongli x f! reader + diluc x f! wife! reader

SUMMARY: As the wife of the famous big shot in the wine industry, you have everything you could ever ask for — a beautiful mansion, endless wealth, servants at your beck and call... However, you lack the one thing you yearn for: love. With your beloved husband neglecting you and being stuck in a loveless marriage, you decide to end it all, only to be stopped by a man whom you have never met before, and who also coincidentally happens to be your soulmate. In addition, there just might seem to be more than what meets the eye in regards to your peculiar soulmate, and you just might have to find that out for yourself.

CW(S)/TW(S): contains mentions of suicide attempts

TAGLIST (italicised blogs are unable to be tagged, pls dm me with your updated username): @crescentmoonnn + @deeomi + @esthelily + @holaseniorahoe + @loving-august + @mshope16 + @needsleep3000 + @nerdiel-has-no-braincells + @saintbernardthethird + @seyboo + @thelonelyarchon

A/N: apologies for the wait, uni has been kicking my ass (i'm in my final year of bachelor's rn! wahoo!) which made my brain go to a stalemate for a while. bUTTT i've recently finished tale of the nine-tailed which caused my brain to spur into action again (everyone say thanku to lee dongwook)! without further ado, pls enjoy!

You were presently seated in the Third-Round Knockout, a Liyuen restaurant which was famed for its gorgeous dishes which had a mouth-watering taste. Zhongli was seated diagonally across you to your left and Ajax in front of you. It was an odd combination, really, having a meal together with your business associate and your soulmate in a fancy, high-end restaurant.

From the corner of your eye, you notice Zhongli's direct gaze on you. It was zeroed in on you, making it seem like he was scrutinising every square inch of your face, and yet it made you feel warm all over, making you feel... embarrassed, somehow? You could only take small sips out of your cup of tea, careful as to not burn your tongue.

(Your tongue, or your cheeks, either one was applicable in this situation.)

"Are you familiar with Mr. Zhongli's practice, Mrs. Ragnvindr?"

Ajax's voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

"I'm afraid not." Oh no, was your mind preoccupied with other thoughts while Ajax was talking? "Could you elaborate on it?"

"I should let Mr. Zhongli do the talking instead," Ajax said, "It's better for him to explain his job scope."

"I am a consultant at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour," Zhongli spoke, "And I simply give people suggestions on how to proceed with their funeral preparations and which packages would best suit their needs. We have a variety of packages for everyone's needs, thanks to Director Hu's business-savvy mindset."

"I wouldn't have expected you to be a funeral parlour consultant," you said, smiling candidly at him, "If anything, I thought you would be an art museum director of sorts."

"He does look the part, doesn't he?" Ajax said with a laugh, "I once mistook him as a CEO of some sort the first time I met him."

"Oh, I understand what you mean," you laughed, "It's in the way he carries himself."

"And the fancy choice of words, too," Ajax chimed in, "That's not all: he's so unusually knowledgeable about every topic!"

"You flatter me," Zhongli shook his head with a smile, "I simply have a good memory."

"Excellent memory, you mean," Ajax corrected him almost immediately, "Anyone would kill for that kind of brainpower. Remember the time you gave advice to that one Fontanian guy who pivoted into film-making? He immediately made a whole lot of money with his debut film!"

You raised your eyebrows. If Zhongli was even adept at advising a novice filmmaker, perhaps he had some good suggestions for your new business plan you had in mind.

"Mr. Zhongli," the dark-haired man immediately turned his head towards your direction as soon as you called his name, "If you would be so kind, I would like to hear your opinion on my business plan."

He straightened his back slightly and interlaced his fingers together, interest piqued as his entire body was turned to face you as he spoke, "Sure, I am all ears."

"This is the business plan I had in mind, which is in collaboration with the Fatui Network..." You launched into your spiel, mapping out the business plan you had in mind (which all of the details had already been discussed with Ajax beforehand), and Zhongli listened attentively. After you were done speaking, there was a brief moment of silence.

"This is indeed a well thought-out plan, but could I make a few minor suggestions?" Zhongli asked.

You nodded, "Please feel free to do so, the floor is yours."

Zhongli began to speak his mind, pointing out what particular flaws and loopholes your business plan might have concerning your consumer base in a respectful and straightforward manner, and what particular negative repercussions might be incurred. You thought Ajax was bluffing when he said Zhongli was insightful; Zhongli was pretty much a wise sage speaking with all the knowledge Teyvat could possibly even offer. If he were a movie character, he would be the wise old pilgrim living at the top of some snowy, out-of-reach mountain that the main character had to climb for months just to reach him.

"...That is all I have to offer, and you might want to take my thoughts with a grain of salt," Zhongli concluded his verbalised thoughts, picking up his teacup again.

"No, what you've just said makes complete sense," you shook your head, "I'll adjust a couple of points on my end. Thank you for your insight, it was really helpful!"

As if right in cue, the food that Ajax had ordered arrived and was served on the table.

"Let's dig in, shall we?" Ajax grinned, and you mirrored his smile and dug your chopsticks into your bowl of noodles as a response.

Ajax left as soon as brunch concluded, scurrying off to pay for the meal first and apologising for leaving first due to urgent business matters.

So that left you and Zhongli alone, standing outside the restaurant.

"Are you heading back to the hotel, Mrs. Ragnvindr?" Zhongli asked, hands situated round his back.

The sun was shining in the sky, but it was not unbearably hot. On the contrary, it was warm and inviting, perfect for an afternoon walk.

You shook your head, "I was planning to go for a stroll. Would you like to join me?"

The man smiled as his eyes softened, "It would be my pleasure."

You and Zhongli walked along the roads of Liyue's capital, taking in the bustling chatter of people and the busy city life. Vehicles were whirring past the both of you, and the rays of the sun ricochetted off the glass panels of the buildings. Somehow, doing something as simple as going on a promenade was much more fulfilling than doing work back home.

"Oh, look! Roadside stalls!" your eyes brightened as you spotted a couple of stalls set up by the road, with old women managing them and selling a variety of trinkets. Without hesitation, you made a beeline towards the stalls, eyes scanning through the products on display. Zhongli joined you soon after, peering past your shoulder to peruse through the items on sale.

"It's nice to see you, Zhongli," a welcoming, gentle voice spoke, causing both you and Zhongli to look up. It was an old woman with her silver hair tied up into a low bun, and a pair of round-rimmed spectacles perched on her nose.

"The pleasure is mine, Street — ahem, Madam Ping," Zhongli returned the greeting.

"Ah, and who's this young lady you've brought along with you?" Madam Ping's eyes shifted over to you, and for a split second, you could see some sort of surprised expression in her eyes. However, it was fleeting and was quickly replaced by a warm gaze and a complementary, friendly smile.

"She is an... acquaintance of mine," Zhongli explained.

"It's nice to meet you," you smiled and gave a little bow (It's customary in Liyuen tradition for younger people to bow in greeting to the older folk, you remembered), then refocused your gaze on the items on display, "You have wonderful wares on display, ma'am."

"Take your pick, child," Madam Ping smiled, then bent over to whisper, "As Zhongli's friend, you're entitled to take one for free."

Your eyes widened into the size of saucers, "Oh, no, I can't do that! You're running a business here; I wouldn't want to make you lose any profit!"

"I insist," Madam Ping shook her head, then nodded towards Zhongli, "He doesn't have a whole lot of friends, so I'm happy to know he's made a new one. I guess you can say this is a little bribe from me to convince you to stay friends with him."

While you really thought you should not be imposing and picking out something for free, you knew you would offend this sweet old lady if you turned her offer down. With a smile and dejected shake of your head, you said, "Alright, then."

Madam Ping brightened almost immediately and you went about the stall, browsing through the wares, discreetly looking at the price tags and trying to pick the cheapest one so that you would not be the first step into driving this poor woman into bankruptcy (or whatever it would be).

Madam Ping shifted over to Zhongli and lowered her voice down to a whisper, "So, it seems you've found her again in this life."

Zhongli hummed.

"This is her last life, isn't it?"

Zhongli nodded, a bittersweet smile taking over his features.

Madam Ping studied his facial expression before speaking again, "You don't seem that happy to know that she's one step closer to reuniting with you."

Zhongli shook his head, "I am beyond delighted to know that she is not too far from reincarnating again and spending her next life forever with me, but..." Zhongli frowned before continuing, "I cannot help but wonder if that is exactly what she wants in her next life is all."

Madam Ping mirrored Zhongli's expression, but in a curious manner, "What makes you say that?"

"I was never her lover in any of her past incarnations," Zhongli explain in a slow manner, as if recalling an archaic tale from long ago, "I had always been a friend, a companion to her. In one of those lives, she told me that she never wanted to live her life like that, having me by her side."

He could remember it as clear as day. The day he saved you from drowning, his body completely drenched in seawater. The fabric of his clothes was clinging to his skin and his hair was tousled and damp. Your skin was pale and your lower lip was trembling, but most importantly, your eyes were filled with tears and you were hitting his body repeatedly.

"Why did you save me?" you wept as your fists struck his chest weakly, "You should've just left me to die!"

"I would never want to see you give up on yourself," he whispered as he swept a stray lock of hair out of your face.

You lowered your head and gripped his clothes, "Did it never occur to you that this was not the life that I wanted?" You raised your head to look at him directly in the eye, a sort of sad fury burning behind your eyes, "In this life, or in any other life, I've never wanted you by my side."

It was a painful yet memorable moment that haunted him every waking hour. Perhaps he had been wrong to even make that contract in the first place. All of this happened because of his selfish desire to see you again, to meet you again, to just stand by your side for another day. He had never once thought about what you wanted. And so, that day woke him up from his self-centered fantasy and caused him to question all his choices. Maybe he should have just let you leave and not hold you back. Perhaps that was what you wanted in the very beginning.

Madam Ping frowned, "I'm sure that's not what she meant. You know she's got a tender spot for you."

Zhongli lowered his head and stared at his gloved hands, "I hope that holds true, Streetward Rambler."

"Ma'am! I've found something!" your voice plucked the two old friends out of their little bubble of conversation, and both of them turned to look at you. You were waving at them, a smile in place as your other hand was holding something small in your palm. You looked so carefree and happy, and Zhongli could only hope you would stay this way forever.

"Don't worry too much, Rex Lapis," Madam Ping whispered as she gave the man a gentle pat on the arm, "I know she wouldn't blame you for your choices."

As the old woman walked off to talk to you and package your procured item into a small wooden box, Zhongli could only hope and pray that Madam Ping's words rang true.

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peterparkersnose · 2 years ago

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Dragon Rider

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!reader

word count: 5k

warnings: helluva flirting, so many sexual references that its not even funny, bantering, nothing too bad, angst perhaps or just tense moments that made me melt while editing this

a/n Perhaps Aemond is a bit more outgoing in this fic then usual, apologies if I didn’t capture his potentially flirty side correctly. I started watching GOT in October and ended it in March (took a hiatus from Jan-March tho) and I watched HOTD in like a week after that :)

dragon? yeah dragon these balls

I am in no way claiming I am an expert in this, the world george rr martin created is so complex I truly think he is the only one who understands it all.

summary Y/N takes a ride on Aemonds dragon...

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 18 mins 24 seconds

Reading in the presence of the gods was one thing Y/N enjoyed doing on occasion. She would pick her favorite book and seemingly sit there for hours at the Godswood, appreciating the sounds of nature along with the calm winds that often blessed King's Landing.

Today she was reading a book about the arts. Not many words, but beautiful images filled the pages and seemed to enchant her. She was so involved in the book that she didn't notice Aemond as he entered the courtyard. He took a moment to appreciate her beauty as she read. The complete innocence of the sight made his heart warm.

Her outfit was simpler than usual; a light dress with no undergarments besides the essentials. It was nothing near the clothes she usually wore. Thick winter dresses were her usual attire in the North. It felt strange being in such a light dress. Even with the dresses she usually wore around the Red Keep, this dress was nothing as she had ever worn out of her bed chambers. It was a scorching day in King's Landing and she couldn’t bare the thought of going through a day with a corset on.

She heard footsteps as he entered her line of sight. Her heart rate increased. She didn't even have to look up to recognize his figure.

"Reading again, are we? What is it this time... hopeless romance novels? Or historical texts that could actually do you some good to read." He asks cockily. She didn't look up from her book, but a slight smile spread on her face. She could see his figure towering over her in her peripheral vision.

"I suppose," she replied, trying not to let her emotions spill out onto her face.

He took another moment to take in her beauty before he spoke. "W-How are you?" he stutters, his hands fidgeting together as he tries to crack his knuckles. It was a strange change of topic. He didn’t expect her voice to sound so sweet, he didn’t expect her to hide her grin. It caught him off guard almost. He couldn’t care less about the book she was reading anymore. It wasn't often that Aemond Targaryen was nervous... and it was very rare that he let his guard down. Especially in front of her.

"I am doing just fine, Aemond. I see that you stuttered there—do I make you nervous?" she asked him playfully, wishing he would sit beside her against the large tree trunk.

"Perhaps," Aemond said, with a light smile on his face. He chuckled a bit at her remarks as he leaned against the trunk. A playful look came over him as he began to look somewhat flustered. "You never answered my question,"

"What question?" she asked, closing her book and looking up at the mysterious man.

"What are you reading?"

She turned her book so the cover was facing her and read off a false title.

"It's a tutorial novel, in fact. Called 'How to get men to let you read in peace'." she chuckled. Aemond bent down and sat next to her. "I suppose the tricks you've read about haven't worked for you yet?" he smirks.

"I suppose not."

Aemond let out a small sort of sigh. "You do look quite beautiful today."

She looked at him from the side of her eye as she set down her book in front of her. "Your too kind sometimes, my Prince. I miss when you would tease me."

His brows raised. "Tease you?" he asked inquisitively.

"Is that what you'd like?"

The pit in her stomach lit up like a fire. The tone this man used was unreal. He knew how to rile her up and read her sensitivity, even if she tried her best to hide it.

"I'd certainly enjoy it. I've been told I can be quite a brat," she teased, looking at his sharp facial features instead of keeping eye contact. She turned so her body was now facing his.

"Is that so?" Aemond said with a laugh. "Well, you are very much definitely that."

She was taken aback a bit that he replied to her tease with such ease, agreeing with her bratty ways. "You tease." she muttered, taking her bare foot and pushing it against his crossed leg. It was his 'punishment' for agreeing with her statement of being a brat.

Aemond flinched as her bare foot touched his leg. She just knew how much he absolutely hated feet.

"...Ow..." he said sarcastically, his hand rubbing his pant leg where her foot had just touched.

"Have I hurt the strong Prince Aemond? Is he going to send his dragon after me?" she says dramatically, placing a hand on her chest.

"I'm not afraid to bring him out... I'll do what I have to do." Aemond charmingly remarked. "I'll let your insult to the royal Prince pass for now."

"How big is that thing anyways...?" she asked playfully. His eyebrows rose at the question. “Your dragon?”

His voice became hushed. "Very big," he assured her. "Do you want to see?"

"Your dragon?" she asked quickly again, following his question up with hers.

"Yes, my dragon. I would be delighted to show you my dragon," he said, bowing his head and grinning. "Perhaps up close?"

It was becoming very obvious that this conversation was not about Vhagar.

"I thought Targaryen dragons didn't have a fondness for others of houses? I'm sure your dragon would absolutely destroy a Stark like I."

"Destroy you...?" he asked with a brow raised, his voice mixed with a toxic amount of curiosity and mischief. Passion burned in his eye, daring her to resist him.

"It would devour you. In one... single... bite." he whispered, his voice dripping with seductive passion. As each pause came off his lips, it shook her core, leaving her wanting more.

"Oh really? I'd like to see it try. I can be... convincing." you played back, squinting your eyes. His gaze upon you felt hotter than the air in King's Landing that day,

"Convincing?" he repeated her words. He stared down at her with a look that only came once in a lifetime. He had a tantalizing grin on his face.

"Are you just going to repeat my words, or are we going to go see your dragon? Where do you keep that thing anyways? Perhaps in your chamber… do you cuddle it every night before bed?" she asked, brushing off her dress as she began to stand. She steadies herself against the tree. He looked up at her. He had never seen this view before; he usually towered over her. Her hands rested on her hips as she awaited his response.

He let out a laugh. "Is that what you think I do?"

She shrugged, offering him a hand to help him rise from the ground. He accepted her touch, smiling when she struggled to help lift his weight from the ground. "No."

"I want to see it," she begged. "Please, Aemond?"

Her begging unleashed a violence in him that he hadn't felt in a long time. So pretty she sounded, her voice begging to see his prized possession.

"Follow me then," he said in a hushed tone, a hint of mischievousness still lingering.

"Where are we going? Will I need shoes?" she anxiously asked, following Aemond out of the courtyard. He chuckled to himself at her question and answered, "You won't need shoes. Just follow me," he said, his eye widening a bit in response to her questioning.

Her stomach began to clench in fear as the large facility came into sight. She thought perhaps they would go to his chambers... oh, how she was wrong. They had finally reached the dragon pit. As they entered, she noticed how far up the circular ceilings rose and how dark the pit became after each step down the stairs. She sensed Aemond's presence next to her and wrapped her arm around his bicep.

Aemond let her hold on to his arm, and he gave her a reassuring smile. His eyes looked down at the dim light that showed over her face. They had to see the woman he loved so much holding on to him for comfort. "There's nothing to be scared of," he tried to assure her. Aemond's comforting words just made her hold on tighter to his arm.

"Why is it so dark?" she asked him. The facility was silent as much as it was dark. "I can barely see you anymore."

"Don't worry," he assured her, handing her the lantern he had been carrying. "This should help."

He shook off her grip but took her hand immediately after. "We're close to his lair," he announced.

"Am I in any particular danger being down here? Not being of Targaryen blood and such... I've heard they can smell who is a Targaryen and who isn't." she asked quietly, her voice tinged with a mix of caution and intrigue. The dim light danced upon her face, revealing a flicker of concern in her eyes. Aemond let out a laugh that bounced off the walls with what seemed like a never-ending echo. "No, they cannot smell your bloodline," he reassured her, squeezing her hand a bit. Her absurd question was one he found much humour in. "You are completely safe with me."

His presence seemed to calm her a bit, but her anxiety rose as they made their way toward Vhagar's pit. Aemond motioned for her to set down the lantern and stay quiet with a finger to his lips. He raised his hand to her, signalling for her to stay in her place.

Aemond yelled confidently in High Valyrian, something beyond Y/N's sense of knowledge from the North. The dark abyss became alive as if the words were the spell to unleash the devil.

Vhagar's eyes shot open as they heard his rider approach. The large dragon raised its head from the entrance of the pit and aired out its wings from where they were folded against its body. Vhagar let out the loudest roar Y/N had ever heard. It was enough to make her hair flow behind her face as the dragon's hot breath reached her skin. The floor shook with a danger that scared Y/N to her core.

Her eyes widened as she beckoned backwards. She lost her balance after trying to take in this magnificent creature and tripped on the lantern. Luckily, it stay lit.

"Are you alright?" Aemond asked, rushing to her side. The dragon watched the pair. The movement of his head let another rush of air escape. Aemond seemed panicked, worried this had been a bad idea. Perhaps she wasn't ready for this.

"I... I-"

She was genuinely speechless, looking at this mysterious dark creature that lurked before her. The dragon was quite large; sure, she expected the dragon to be large. But not quite this significant size. This was bigger than any ship, perhaps any castle she had ever seen in her life. He seemed as if he could pick the Red Keep up with his claws and fly away. However, that might have been an exaggeration, but it seemed real to her in this moment.

Aemond shook his head and recognized her fear. "She's... big." Aemond breathed out, reaching out his hand for her as she did for him in the courtyard earlier that day. "Bigger than any dragon I've ever seen, that's for sure." he followed up his statement. She took his hand, and he pulled her up with ease.

Without warning, Vhagar lets out a breath of fire directed toward the ceiling of the pit. The fire edged the structure with a beautiful haze. It wasn't anywhere near close enough to reach the two of them. It seemed as if Vhagar was showing off, playing as Aemond's perfect wingman. Almost literally.

Vhagar's flames disappeared as he watched them reflect in Y/N's eyes. Vhagar turned and began to approach the two of them. Its overgrown claws clipped at the stone floor with the dragon's booming steps toward them. Y/N held on to Aemond, almost as a shield. "I-Is it going to hurt us?"

Aemond chuckled. "Hurt us? She seems to like you. I think Vhagar wants you to approach her."

Y/N looked at him with a truly shocked look. "Me?" she asked, tilting her head. She looked back at the dragon. Vhagar lowered its head about twenty feet away. Y/N was curious to know if the creature was about to roll on its back like a lazy dog or charge at the two of them.

"Yes, you." Aemond said with a softer tone, trying to encourage her. He placed a hand on her lower back to comfort her.

"Why me?" she asked him, looking between his gaze and the dragons.

"Why not you?" he asked, wrapping his hand from her lower back to around her waist. His fingers give her a comforting touch as they lay on her waist.

The dragon began to inch its way closer to the pair. Its golden eyes blinked, seemingly changing color in front of her eyes. As each claw hit the ground, it shook, giving her an uneasy feeling and a reason to return to above ground.

"Go on... stand up straight, do as I say, and stay still. Do not have any rash movements. Do you hear me?" Aemond instructed her, letting her go from his grasp with a tiny push. It was physical, and yet also an emotional push at the same time. "Trust me."

She walked slowly towards the dragon until she could feel the dragon's calm breaths hit her skin. She wished she could turn around and run, but then she surely would have ended up as Vhagar's afternoon snack.

"Now," Aemond said calmly but urgently. She listened to the Dragon Prince, not daring to disobey his orders. "Place your hand out."

"What?" she called back, not questioning his orders but shocked at them. "Do as I say, Lady Stark. She won't eat you." he ordered her, chuckling at his cruel comment. Her whole arm shook as she held her palm to the dragon as a peace offering.

"Eat me?" she whispered, looking behind her and finding him standing there with a stupid grin. "Keep your gaze on the dragon now," he advised, his tongue sharp. "It won't harm you at all. Not with me here,"

Vhagar stood Y/N down. She couldn't help but feel like this could be the last moment of her life. As the dragon moved closer, it had a surprisingly soft touch as it touched its ginormous snout to her hand.

"Just relax..." Aemond said from behind her. Watching the woman he loved interacting with his dragon was enough to send him mad. Vhagar was the most important thing in his life, but perhaps now she sat right next to the dragon on his list of importance. Aemond slowly began approaching her side. He touched her arm, making her jump slightly. "You can stroke her," Aemond suggested. She looked over to Aemond with fear in her eyes. "Are you sure?" she whispered. He shook his head up and down slowly, with a confidence that drove her wild. "You realize, if I die, Cregan will declare war. Correct?"

Aemond smirked. "You won't die. The dragon won't allow that," he said with a grin, his eyes locked on her.

"Are you still afraid, Y/N? Vhagar seems to like you. She wants you to come closer." Aemond said, placing his own hand on his scary dragon as it seemed docile. "She wants me? For what?" Y/N asked, her hand moving slowly over the rough skin of Vhagar, following Aemond's actions. The thick black skin covering the grand dragon felt weird and gritty under her hands as the hot air from its huge mouth blew into her face again. A deep purr-like rhythm escaped from the dragon's throat.

"Just for the both of you to get to know each other. It's not often a dragon takes so kindly to a stranger." Aemond added.

She let out a long-held sigh of relief, which she seemingly had been holding a breath she didn't even realize she was holding. She smiled as the dragon let out another low, guttural purr.

Aemond looked endearingly at his woman, proud of the progress she had made. He had a smug look on his face with a sense of absolute faith towards her. She got along with his dragon. Any other girl in the realm would have left terrified by now- but she was different. She cared enough to see his dangerous interests and perhaps risk her life for his satisfaction. She truly cared. It warmed his heart, even though he would never let this be known to any other living soul.

"She likes you," he says with a teasing tone, placing his hand around her waist again. "I can tell," she replied, mimicking his tone.

She leaves his side and brushes her hand along the rest of the dragon's large face as it rested on the ground of the pit.

"What are you doing?" Aemond asks. He wasn't mad that she was testing her limits with Vhagar, just simply annoyed she left his embrace. "Just stroking it a bit," she teased, looking over the scales' rough details.

Aemond let out a small chuckle, his eyes darting to the floor as he followed her. He kicked his foot on the ground, making a few stray rocks bounce. "Stroke it some more... you seem to like to stroke it, don't you?"

Her head turned back to look at him. She had a passion in her eyes that drove Aemond wild.

"I can tell she likes you a lot. So much... that if you were to stop, there would be some consequences indeed."

He could feel his pants growing tighter. All the teasing she had done that day was enough to last him for a lifetime of private moments in his personal chambers.

"I have to stop sometime, you know. I cant pet a dragon for the rest of eternity," she says with a realistic tone, not teasingly at all. Aemond wouldn't lie; her practical mindset disappointed his fantasies. His encouragement was helped back up as she asked him a follow-up question. Perhaps she could sense his disappointment.

"How do you even ride this thing, anyway?"

Aemond walked over to the side of the dragon. She could just see him behind the wing. "This," he yelled to her confidently and held up a rope. "It's connected to the harness."

"Tell me, have you ever ridden a horse before?" Aemond asked with a curious tone, raising an eyebrow now as he kept his eyes locked on her, and he let the saddle strap back down onto Vhagar. "Many times, yes." she answered him as he made his way back to her side.

"Mounting a dragon is a very similar, yet different experience."

She turned to him, cocking her head. "Y-you want me to mount Vhagar?"

"Perhaps we could take her on a small ride? I know how badly you want to ride a dragon, dear." he sweetly suggested, brushing his hand against her cheek.

She looked dauntingly into his eyes. All the banter had boiled up to this point. She wanted to kiss him terribly. The yearning look she gave him begged for his lips on hers.

"You think I have what it takes to ride a dragon?"

"I know you have what it takes to ride a dragon, love."

He took her hand and slowly walked with her to the saddle strap.

"Aemond," she says, standing a few feet behind him. He expected her to follow his lead. He turns back, loosening his footing on the dragon. "I'm no Targaryen... I'm not a dragon rider. It's not in my blood,"

He slowly reached the ground with his feet and begins to walk towards her. Aemond outstretched his hand, cupping her cheek and looking down into her eyes. "Are you suggesting that it takes more than just a little courage to ride a dragon? You know I won't let anything happen to you. As long as you are with me."

She closes her eyes for a moment, enjoying this intimate moment with Aemond.

"It takes a whole bloodline that I do not acquire,"

A slight smirk rose to his face as he looked down at her. Her silly question made his stomach churn, knowing that he wanted to make her a Targaryen more than anything in the world.

"Nonsense," he whispers. "I have seen children half your age ride dragons before-"

"-But those are Targaryen children, Aemond." she cut off his sentence. He would be pissed at the usual person for doing so, but she gained the pass for disrespecting the Prince.

She placed a hand on his chest. "I am a Stark. I have no Targaryen in me,"

Aemond had to try to hide the grin he yearned to display on his face. He winced a bit, trying to keep his thoughts pure. Evidently, they were not.

Not yet. Oh, my love, not yet.

"I'd say that you're wrong," he concluded, placing his hand upon the hand she had placed on his chest. "There is plenty of Targaryen in you."

He playfully interlocked his fingers with hers.

"I am purebred Stark, unfortunately." she sighed, not a disappointed sigh but what seemed to be a sarcastic one.

"Unfortunately?" Aemond asked her as they began to walk slowly, hand in hand, near the beast.

"Shall we leave Vhagar to rest?" she asked, changing the subject. He could sense her tense demeanor as they got closer and closer to the dragon.

"Rest? Vhagar looks like she's ready for an adventure!" he says playfully, grabbing her other hand and dragging her towards the saddle rope.

She rolls her eyes and follows his grasp. Without asking or with a warning, he picks her up by her waist and mounts her up on the dragon's back. She let out a small yelp, not prepared for his intimate touch.

Vhagar began to squirm as she waited for Aemond's instructions. "Get on, will you?" he yelled playfully to her, nudging her leg in the right direction. "I'm right behind you."

She grabbed the rigid girdle and hoisted herself up onto the leather saddle. Vhagar began to stir. He stood up and took a step before Aemond could successfully hoist himself up on the saddle. Y/N yelled his name out and outstretched her hand. He grabbed her hand and yelled something in High Valyrian to the dragon.

"Hold on, my love." he said to her. Y/N wrapped her arms around his torso as he held on to the harness and began shouting more at the dragon.

The dragon began walking out of the pit. Vhagar let out a large screech, one that was louder than the last roar she had heard from the dragon previously. If she wasn't holding on to Aemond for dear life, she would have fallen off from the absolute jump scare it was.

As Vhagar let out another loud roar, the ceiling began to open. The hot skies had turned gray and overcast. She couldn't be holding onto Aemond any tighter than she was. As the dragon took flight, a rush of wind swept through Y/N's hair, tousling it playfully. The ground below grew smaller, the dragon pit almost becoming a speck of dust in her vision.

Her chin rested upon Aemond's shoulder as she anxiously held on to him. The refreshing scent of oncoming rain calmed her. The dragon could sense her newfound ease on her back and took its first swoop through the air. As Vhagar did this, Y/N let out a terrified scream, but the fearful tone soon turned joyous. Y/N's eyes widened as she watched King's Landing disappear beneath the clouds.

Her cheerful cries satisfied Aemond. She had finally gotten to experience the flight of a dragon. The times he had tried to explain this feeling to her in the past were no match for the real thing. Aemond's heart swelled with a deep sense of pride, a feeling always there, but it seemed to expand with her holding on to his waist.

With every beat of the dragon's wings and each breath of wind brushing against their faces, Aemond wished he could see her facial expression. He imagined the feeling of freedom in her, the same feeling he had many years ago when he first tamed Vhagar.

Her laughter was music to his ears.

The dragon ride represented more than just a thrilling adventure. It was a glimpse into the potential future they could build together, filled with shared experiences, trust, and an unspoken understanding. She was willing to take on the risky Targaryen lifestyle, even if it meant riding him or the dragon. Her ambition was the right one to match his. He had trusted her with something he had never trusted anyone else to do, not even his own brother. How she honored his house and their traditions were enough to make him fall off the dragon and mush into a pile of bliss.

Vhagar screeched and let out a breath of fire. Y/N's stomach dropped as the dragon dived straight into the ball of fire and hid her head in Aemond's shoulder. He laughed gregariously at her fear, grabbing her hand around his waist and interlocking their fingers. The heat didn't burn the two, but a rush of hot air pummeled around the two of them. The exhilarating feeling of adventure filled her, and she begged for more.

With each beat of the dragon's wings, Y/N's fears dissolved being replaced by a profound sense of freedom. She laughed and cried out with ultimate joy alongside Aemond. Her sweet words to him were carried away by the wind and unheard by his ears. Aemond didn't need words to know the exact feeling she was attempting to express to him. The world became a blur of colors and sensations, an exhilarating rush that filled their senses.

Rain began to fall. It drew down heavily on them since they were so high in altitude. Aemond spoke to his dragon once more in High Valyrian. Vhagar seemed to calm her sharp swoops and cries out and find his way back to the hill upon which the Dragon Pit sat.

Y/N was speechless as Vhagar landed. It was a bumpy landing due to the ground. It was now muddy.

Three men dressed in robes came out screaming in High Valyrian at the dragon. Aemond balanced himself on Vhagar's back as he reached out a hand for hers. She took it and swiftly slid down the dragon's back as Aemond pushed her ahead of himself.

She stumbled on the ground and fell to her bottom. Her dress was dirtied due to the dragon's soot and the fresh mud. It didn't matter anyways. Her dress and hair were already soaking wet. She watched as Aemond gracefully slid his way down the dragon. His Princely traits are shown brightly. He smirked at her as the wind blew his long, wet hair behind his shoulders. Vhagar complimented his aura as the dragon let out a long roar behind him. She was almost lost in his enigma.

As if he walked in slow motion toward her, he reached out his hand to help her up.

"Not bad for your first time," he stated, pulling her up and straight into his embrace.

Vhagar screeched from the back as the robed men guided her back into the Dragon Pit.

She steadied herself in his embrace, grabbing both of his arms. Her dress clung to her as it was soaked. Y/N pulled at it; she hated feeling it against her skin.

Her eyes met his gaze as he smiled, almost cruelly at her. He didn't care anymore; Aemond let his gaze fall down to her chest and below, taking her beautiful sight in.

"A beautiful girl who just rode on a beautiful dragon. My beautiful girl, my beautiful dragon." he said, pulling her closer. Their bodies were practically touching. Thunder cracked behind them. She smiled, touching her forehead to his.

"We should get back before the storm gets bad,"

He hated her realistic talking. Oh, how he loathed her responsibility just as he admired it. He had to stop these words... he had to shut her up.

"Shush," he whispers in his raspy, needy voice.

The rain created a symphony around them, the soft droplets pelting them softly as they stood together on Dragon Pit's hill. Aemond closed the distance between himself and Y/N with a soft and determined gaze.

She tasted of rain mixed with sweat and adrenaline. Something that made Aemond just crave her more and more with each second passing. His hands made their way around her, embracing her with a firm grasp around her waist. The rain seemed to shield them from the rest of the world as they stayed embraced like nobody was watching. There was no care in the world at that moment, just the two of them standing sopping wet in the storm.

As they finally parted, she struggled to catch her breath. Her lips still tingled with the remnants of their kiss. Her heart raced, looking back at the face of the man who had just given her the most sense of freedom she had ever felt, along with the most sense of fear. With a shaky exhale, she felt all of her anxieties and doubts go away about her relationship with Aemond. At that moment, she knew he was the one for her; the only one in the world fit for her. He could meet her adventurous needs, as he also aspired to the same ones as her.

"My dragon rider," Aemond declared softly, still close enough to feel her breath on his. The nickname sent chills down her spine. Aemond was proud to claim her as his with this new name. It was one he knew he would be calling her for the years to come. Aemond would never forget this special day. He would yearn to relive it for years.

"My Prince," she declared, smiling and looking up again to meet his eager gaze.

With that, Aemond and Y/N walked back to the Red Keep without a care in the world. They were sopping wet, but they were in love. They didn't care what the guards would think or his mother's spies she had placed strategically around the castle.

Vhagar was not the last dragon she would ever ride. As a Stark, she knew she could never own her own dragon. The man who gently held her hand and looked down at her with an undescribable lustful look would have to do.

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @mandoloriancookie @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy @milly-louise @mxtokko

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paintednailsandsoftdetails · 18 days ago

Text

911, a confession

Let me start by saying that I don't really know what I'm doing here, so bear with me. If I actually go through with posting this, and you find yourself tagged and wondering who I am and why, or even if you happen upon it in the tags, I hope you take a minute to read this.

You don't know me, but you've been my community for a while now. I've checked your blogs daily for years, I've read your posts and loved your art and sent you countless anonymous asks to pick your brains- never hate though, because I'm not a Freak.

What I am, however, is a lonely lesbian with depression and (newly diagnosed) OCD, who has always needed some hyperfixation media/fandom to find life bearable. For some ~fun context, I was Raised by the glee fandom, I will die on the hill that watching queer as folk when I was 14 and discovering its fans 10+ years after airing made me who I am, I've got the most bizarrely timed stint in the 1D fandom under my belt, and I find nothing in the world more interesting and also affirming than Queer Reading (verb) media- to the extent that I earned an English degree and wrote a thesis specifically about it.

I haven't posted on here in 1.5 years, since I fell out of my previous fandom (apologies to anyone from said fandom who still happens to follow me and is seeing this, feel free to move along.) But I've been on this app every day since, because of 911.

(starting the read more here to spare you- again especially if you are tagged, I know you're probably feeling miserable rn but I do hope the entirety of this love letter reaches you)

I started "watching" mid season 5- by which I mean I was in a deep depressive state after disconnecting with previous media hyperfixation and, when I happened upon 911 trending while in need of distraction, I quickly fell down a rabbit hole. Tale as old as time, tumblr dot com convinces you that you need to tune into *insert media here* bc its fun and there are gay people! I caught myself up through all the big blogs and by the time May Day was airing I felt like I had a decent grasp on all the lore, all the fandom drama, all the places the writers were "definitely, so brilliantly" going to be taking the show that we had to look forward to, all without ever having actually seen an episode of the show (before you boo me, yes I've watched it by now, even season 1)

But I think it is important, and also a little messed up, that I fell in love with 911 through YOU, through the fans. Obviously watching the show initially through the lens of fan reactions first and not whats actually happening on screen can have some... interesting results. We've heard it all before, with the people who started watching specifically for Buddie around season 4/5 because they saw The Will and by the time they caught themselves up and watched the end of season 6 they wanted their refunds.

Here is where I want to make a clarification- the reason I got so interested, why I started coming back every day to check in on tags and certain favorite blogs I didn't even follow bc I was denying the want to become fully Involved, was because I fell in love with Evan Buckley. I won't lie, it was Buddie that caught my attention first- of course, thats what everyone here was talking about- and as much as I quickly started discover the value of the show outside of them (Henren my absolute Beloveds!!!!! Captain Dad Bobby Nash you are so special to ME. Chimney man of all time i can keep going) none of it was enough initially to bite the bullet and catch up on 5 seasons worth of a show I also knew would have elements I WASNT interested in (Copaganda and Taylor Kelly I am looking at you.)

But then I started really getting into fan's readings of Buck *insert footage of me learning the Buck Begins of it all for the first time* as a character separate from Eddie (as much as people were capable of anyway, and I will say some of yall continue to be absolutely atrocious at it) and I knew I was done for. Buck, this character so full of goodness, and his need to be Found but to also Find his own family and purpose and sense of self, for whom the show's thesis statement concerns the act of working to Make the kind of Love you want to have in this world, even if you were raised without a blueprint for it- I'm sorry but what else were me and my gay ass queer reading inclined hyperfixated brain to do other than take Evan Buckley into the folds and never let him go?

I love Buck. I was convinced by the time the s5 finale was airing before I had actually watched the show that Buck had to be bi. Even if they never did a thing with it you couldn't convince me otherwise and I was also confident that Oliver was portraying him with a similar mindset. I never wavered in that interpretation, even when the utter disappointment of the s6 finale and the failure to do anything truly meaningful character development wise through the lightning strike-Natalia speed run hit, and certainly not as I got fully caught up actually watching the show outside of tumblr live reactions during episode airings. I'll admit I was pretty ready to Check Out after the end of season 6, to the point where I hardly checked in on fandom at all going into 7 until the rumblings of possible canon Bi Buck reached me and I doubled back like "hold on, for real this time?" But when I say Check Out, I mean I was ready to walk away from the hyperfixation with a joint lack of satisfaction with canon & firm conviction that Buck was queer.

Things with Eddie are a lil different- and I want to try and keep this bit brief bc this is ultimately a post about Buck and Bucktommy and I have no interest in unsettling those of you who may have a queer reading connection to Eddie as real as the one I feel for Buck, but unfortunately this conversation cannot exist separately from the Eddie/Buddie of it all- I personally don't think Eddie is queer. I don't really think I ever did, even when I was in the thick of it with falling for Buddie. I know me saying this would cause certain audience to pelt me with accusations of fetishizing Buck or treating Eddie as nothing more than a vehicle for Queer Buck via Buddie- false! I actually think Eddie is an incredibly fascinating character, a deeply compelling representation of grief and fatherhood and masculinity, and also a hilariously weird lil bitch guy. I just don't feel like- especially having removed fanon glasses while actually starting to watch the show, and taking the time to acknowledge that the things about Buddie that appealed to me on a romantic level (this is NOT about their friendship which i stand by being beautiful and important) all boiled down elements I was reading within and onto BUCK specifically, not Eddie. Perhaps an impossible concept for some, the idea that Bi Buck could feel so real and apparent to me primarily divorced from the idea that Eddie had to be queer as well, but I won't bore you with my explanations for it, though I suspect the people tagged and still reading by this point know exactly what I am talking about.

All of this potentially obnoxious prologue to say, I've spent the last however many months falling in love with canon Bi Buck *insert footage of me speed running back into my daily fandom involvement/blog check ins the moment I knew Buck kissed a man*, with Bucktommy, and with Bucktommy fans.

For a long while there I had resigned myself to an odd, though perhaps not as unique as I thought, reality of loving and fully believing in Queer Buck, not necessarily feeling the same about Eddie or Buddie, but also in full agreement with many that already 6 seasons in with literally nothing else having remotely worked, Buddie would be the only satisfying conclusion for Buck's love story. This is again not exactly how I felt about Eddie- but a big part of that for me is that I don't think Eddie's primarily story in 911 is a love story. He's the vessel for telling other important, beautiful stories about fatherhood and forgiveness and that is OKAY bc not every characters story is a love story!!! Evan Buckley's is though (Despite some very weird and confusing things mr stark has just said about his character that actively contradict what hes previously said and what audiences have been looking at and for this entire time, but I digress)

But then! By whatever happy accident we want to call it 911 had Tommy Kinard fall back into its lap as the solution to what felt like the impossible: They found the ONE way they could introduce a non Eddie Diaz love interest for Buck that COULD be satisfying for Bucks story. Someone with connections to the 118 and the shows history and potential for further development within main storylines as his job directly pertains to their plots. Someone with such compelling connections for interweaving these two characters that it got us- including the showrunner- talking about the Red String of Fate. That it got some of the beloved tumblr pals I had been watching for years, who NEVER would have believed they'd ever root for a Buck endgame that wasnt Buddie doing exactly that, and with joy, love, and conviction. Again I'll ask, what else were me and my Buck loving brain to do but take Bucktommy into the folds and never let go? (apparently I hadn't considered that there was apparently horrifying alternative- more on that next!)

As you all damn well know, falling in love with Bucktommy has not come without its trails. I have never seen things in fandom as vile as the things I've seen go down here. And as I mentioned before, I've been IN IT with yall for a while, even if you didnt know it. I was here, lurking, and I know this fandom has had its highlight reels of racism and misogyny and harassment (despite certain factions current batshit consensus that things were "never bad" before *gasp* a couple of people, some over the ancient age *double gasp* of 30 heard about bucktommy through tumblr the same damn way the 90% of you who havent been watching since season 1 heard about buddie and decided to invest)

What happened tonight made me cry, for about 40 minutes straight. And yeah, its been a devastating week for us all for a lot of reasons. On top of the ~national dread (I'm a lesbian in the US btw) today was my 7th out of 9 straight days of open to close shifts in a demanding retail/management position, and I have a head cold so maybe this was just a Breaking Point after a whole lotta shit.

But also, maybe, it was really fucking shitty to watch this play out. I've already seen countless people say it better than I could. Yeah, its a tv show. It's a fictional ship. But its also escapism, a spot of joy many of us were extra dependent on this week. It was something GOOD, queer representation and a love story on national tv days after a horrifying reality set in for queer people, and we are allowed to acknowledge how much losing that sucks just on a general level for a second...

Second over, now lets talk not on the general level. Lets talk about how I've watched real human beings get harassed, sent death threats, be told they are faking cancer and failing to properly grieve dead loved ones, I've watched deeply homphobic language be adopted and incorporated into everyday use despite constant correction and pleas from queer men to knock it the hell off, I've watched homophia as a whole run rampant and unchecked by big blogs, with some biphobia to boot, I've seen some images of horrific anti gay violence and historical trauma invoked as a way to make fun of others, I've seen lesbianism slandered and proffered as an excuse for such vile behavior in a disgusting erasure of the beautiful solidarity that has historically existed between gay men and lesbians in the face of homophobia, and yes, I've seen graphic descriptions of child rape via targeted fanfiction attacks.

Again, others have already said it better than I can: This isn't about Bucktommy. It's about the way that everyone who was Pulling for them as a couple, who DARED to *checks scribble on hand* enjoy a canon queer mlm couple featuring a character (or two) they've grown to care deeply for, has been subjected to all the above mentioned and more, and for...what. For. What.

In the name of a fanon couple that has not been legitimized by the writers in 7 years? of a fanon character interpretation of a canonically straight man (not just assumed straight, verbally assigned straight now on multiple occasions) that people cannot fathom perceiving this show, let alone liking these characters, without? For the version of this story that, if the writers REALLY wanted to happen could have happened so many fucking times by now- especially when the show was coming to what might have been its end in s6- and still hasn't? A version that has been dismissed multiple times by the writers cast crew and every other unfortunate individual who has been harassed repeatedly about it?

And I'm not here to say Buddie is inherently bad!!!! It brought me into this same as the rest of you. I don't even believe it would necessarily be a bad or wrong conclusion for either character or the show were it to eventually, finally happen!! But for the love of god, hear me when i say from the outsider pov of someone who has experience the show in the way I did first through fandom then stepping back to watch for real and now watching it with my mother who is a near Exact representation of the general audience of this show (experienced Procedural watcher, no idea about Buddie or fandom interpretation, had no sense of gay eddie to speak of, and is not shocked but pleasantly surprised by and endeared by Bi Buck) you are SEVERELY deluded if you think what happened tonight by breaking up Bucktommy "makes sense" to any audience outside of buddies who've been writing manifestos for years about how every single thing in this show is "carefully, intentionally, clearly" leading to Buddie canon. I swear to you the people at home do not fucking see it. The people at home saw Buck in a nice, developing relationship that finally seemed to be going somewhere real for him after discovering an important part of his identity late in life, and then they saw that relationship abruptly ended and Buck heartbroken, going to sit with his best, still straight, bud Eddie Diaz. The ONLY people this makes sense for are the people who I am afraid it seems may have legimately bullied this into happening.

And if that is the case? We are sooo far fucking past the point of no return here. There is no true satisfaction in a Buddie canon endgame here for anyone who's lived through the past half a year in this fandom unless you were a perpetrator of any of the horrific shit mentioned above. I mean that with my whole fucking chest. If, and i do think it is a Big Fucking Fat if, Buddie does happen, and you find yourself no qualms happy and satisfied with it as your well earned endgame, I hope you know how rotted you are. And while I'm at it, I hope some way some how you come to see that this was not the carefully crafted beautifully developed loved story of all time you were gods bravest soldier in waiting for. Its just what left after years of meandering storytelling and cyclical character "development" with a bow slapped on top at the last moment because the gift giver was afraid you might kill them if they presented less.

Anyway. I said a million words ago that this was a love letter, and I do mean that. As much as its also been an mental health exercise for me to write this all out. So,

@kinardbuckleys @bucksboobs @kirkaut @tevankinkley @userautumn @sunglassesmish @tommyscurls @ohithankyou @buckxtommy @princessfbi @bigfootsmom @firewasabeast

(And so many other people I'm surely forgetting, and the few artists and writters on other platforms I dared to venture to- maybe never opening twitter again after this xoxo)

Thank you. You don't know me, I never quite got over the anxiety of trying to re-enter a fandom space after a time away, or maybe some of the imposter syndrome or embarrassment I felt accidentally falling in love with this show and Buck by just watching you all talk about him before anything else. But for the last few months, some of you years, you've been my community, my escape. I've loved watching your brains and your hearts work to discuss and create, even amidst the absolute shittiest fandom behavior Ive ever seen. And I am as grateful for getting to experience it from a far as I am devastated at the thought of losing it, of not individually typing in all your blog names (I was too anxious to even FOLLOW you guys truly rip) to see what new content or spec or art or love you had to share about Buck / Bucktommy every day.

In another life- one where idk perhaps people were kinder or showrunners weren't bullied and actors weren't dropped last minute after months of torment and a satisfying canon queer love story for a character who genuinely needs it could just Be in peace- I would have loved to one day put on my big girl pants (aka saved Buck url) joined the fandom for real. To have directly talked to any of you in a way that wasnt... this.

I would have loved to love Bucktommy with you.

#if any of you actually read this i am kissing you directly on the forehead #and if you didnt I am wishing you find some escapist joy outside all this #bucktommy #911 abc #911 spoilers #buddie #evan buckley #yes i am tagging all of it lmao I have SPARED a lot of you by never joining this fandom and saying the shit ive wanted to say so youll deal #with this one time and i honestly hope it reaches outside who its really intended for #tommy kinard #tevan #please let a buddie read it and get pissy see if i care #maybe the last time i used tumblr too since i don't ever want to go through this again lol

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scarthefangirl · 1 year ago

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Don't make me call your sister

Hobie Brown x younger!sister!reader

Request: Hello! Could I possibly request a hobie x younger sister!reader? (Maybe the same age as miles) meeting his friends for the first time

Warnings: Use of the A word lol?

Story type: headcannons

A/N: im slowly making my way through the requests, but please request more lol

Masterlist | REQUESTS OPEN

When the group of spider people first met you they all loved you

You were similar to Hobie but still your own person

“I’m sorry you all have to work with him,” You had teased

“Y/N, I’m sorry you had to grow up with him,” Pav apologized

Gwen and you bonded over Hobie’s disorganization and messiness

“I didn’t know bringing you around them meant getting attacked,” Hobie rolled his eyes

You guys all bonded over your favorite Hobie stories

Hobie tried to get back at you by telling embarrassing childhood stories of you, but it wasn’t the same

“He really cut your hair just because you didn’t remind him to take his dog out?” Miles laughed

“Yes, and he was literally 16.” You informed and Hobie groaned

He wasn’t embarrassed, he doesn’t ever get embarrassed, just annoyed

“Don’t cross me,” he shrugged

You told them that even though your brother is Spiderman doesn’t mean you can’t be a crime fighting badass

You took a bunch of martial art and acrobatics to be able to fight like him

If you dared flirt or crush on any spider people? Pavitr would NEVER let you live it down

Hobie’s, and now your, friends are constantly shipping you with people

Whenever they are done with missions they invite you to hangout with them or they come to you

You train yourself to stitch up wounds so you can help patch them up

Everyone likes you, you just have this energy that’s so likable

If you ever go to the headquarters? You and Hobie steal so much junk

You could probably make like 10 suits with all the stuff you’ve stolen

You would climb onto Hobie’s shoulders to get things high up

Then you’d fall and yell at Hobie

“You could’ve held on tighter!! And also, you could’ve crawled and got it!” You would shout

Change of subject but you would show Pavitr, Gwen, Miles, and anyone else who wanted to see pictures of Hobie as a kid and baby

There is a picture of him holding you as a toddler (him not even a teen yet), holding you by your ankles and you’re face is red, screaming and his with a grin

“What cute picture” he smiled

“I almost died!”

“What a cool way to die!”

People use you as blackmail fsss

“Stop or I’ll call Y/N.” “If you do it I’ll tell Y/N.” “Don’t make me call your sister.”

Everyone tries to convince you and Hobie to have a fight because you’re always arguing about who is a better fighter

“I’d whoop your ass” you told him

“You’d never even lay a finger on me.” He’d said

Overall, everyone likes you and wants you around and treats you like part of the team

Tags: // @liliummz // @themarvelprince // @misselsbells06 // @american-sataness // @cr0ssoverf4n4tic // @depressednoob // @cerene-ciderr // @leighanne03 // @inluvwithfictionalwomen // @singhfae // @mythixmagic // @itsyourboymicheal // @Ravensinthedaylight //

Join my taglist!!

#I had little inspiration for this im sorry #marvel #it's #atsv #spiderman atsv #hobie brown #spiderverse #spider punk #across the spiderverse spoilers #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown fanart #hobie brown fic #pavitr prabhakar #miles morales #gwen stacy

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scotfraweek · 2 months ago

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It’s here guys! The long awaited list for ScotFra Week! Thank you to those of you who voted on the poll/form

I hope you guys like the list I created. I had to really think this through and really decide how I wanted to organize the Themes/Prompts in a way that would not only make sense but that would be interesting and bring out your creative and imaginative ideas to the event.

Now without any further ado, here they are

🌹Day 1 - October 20

Soulmates / Reincarnation

“Maybe we make it in another universe/life”

“Have we met before?”

High School Sweethearts

Differences Attract

❤️Day 2 - October 21

Humanverse VS Fantasy

“We can build something new, for us.”

“Have you ever wondered, of what could’ve been?”

Long-Distance Relationship

🌹Day 3 - October 22

A/B/O or Pirates/Merfolk

“I was here first!”

“Is this what you want?”

Unplanned Pregnancy

Jealousy

❤️Day 4 - October 23

✨F R E E D A Y✨

Anniversary

🌹Day 5 - October 24

Horror / Supernatural (In honor of Halloween)

“Why is there so much blood?!”

“So everything you said was a lie?”

There was only one bed

Serial Killer/ Haunted House

❤️Day 6 - October 25

Artist/Fan or Detectives

“There was a slight miscommunication”

“You’ve never done this before, have you?”

Love = Weakness

Rivalry

🌹 Last Day - October 26

Angst/Hurt or Post Apocalypse

“Do you remember when…?”

“I trusted you!”

Character Death/Still Alive

The End of the World

🌹 Of course if you guys would like, you can mix and match. If a prompt from a different day fits your idea for one of the Themes, you are more than welcome to use it. You also can use more than one prompt if you wish as well!

❤️ Art, fics/one-shots and moodboards are all welcomed. Anything that you can use to express your imagination and creativity

✨How to submit your works✨

Just tag the account @scotfraweek as well as the #/ScotFraWeek2024 with your submission/post

✨R U L E S✨

Yes, there are rules guys… please follow them

I will not tolerate any bashing of other Hetalia Characters even if it is for the sake of your idea. Please be respectful of the other characters, I don’t want any fan-wars bc someone’s blorbo was bashed

Try to keep politics and actual life events to a minimum, no need for there to also be any actual hate/fighting during the event amongst participants.

I will say this only once, please to not use other artist’s/writer’s work to enter the event. All work must be solely yours. If someone calls you out for plagiarism, I will NOT be defending you, you’re on your own for that

Please, please, PLEASE, and I can NOT stress this enough, but absolutely no AI can be used for your submissions. Once again, all works must be unique and original. If your work requires AI, then it is NOT original. I will not reblog your work if i get the slightest hint of AI work, and believe me, I can tell

Please keep comments on other participants work friendly. Respect the other participant’s submissions for the event. If you do not like someone’s work for whatever reason — Block the user. I will not stand for any hate/bullying in other people’s post because their work did not meet your expectations. This also goes for spectators who will not be submitting work of their own.

Finally, have fun! This event is about showing love and creativity for the french bastard and his ginger himbo hubby. Bring out your creativity and your best suit!

Late submissions will still be accepted up to 3 days after the event is over!

‼️If you feel like another participant’s work is breaking the rules or is offensive towards you or anyone else, be sure to let me know so proper actions will be taken

📫The account’s inbox will be open for any questions or even ideas that you have in regards of the event!

💔I genuinely do apologize, I had truly intended to have this out a few days ago, but … things happen. I hope you are not too mad or upset with me

🤍 Can’t wait to see all your guy’s works next month, see you then!

@hetaliacalendar if you wouldn’t mind reblogging for a little signal boost pls 😭

#ScotFra #scotfra week #scotfra week 2024 #hws scotland #hws france #aph scotland #aph france #FraScot #hetalia

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cryoculus · 2 years ago

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— dream a little (dream of me) ⟢

you're a modern-day succubus just trying to get by, and your superior, mister zhongli is next on your hit-list. but every time you invade his dreams, he becomes someone else entirely…

★ FEATURING; zhongli x succubus!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 23.3k words

★ TAGS; modern au, office au, superior-subordinate relationship, angst, like SO MUCH angst, zhongli dreams abt his past life as rex lapis, smut

★ WARNINGS; graphic sexual content (minors dni), some depictions of violence (it was the archon war so), reader gets drunk at some point in the story and a co-worker exhibits unwanted interest, near-death experiences, mentions of pregnancy

★ NOTES; this was the longest thing i've ever written in one sitting TT wrote it for 3 days straight, and i'm honestly still proud of it even a year later! take note that this was loosely based off a manhwa i read in passing called sweet dream, so if the plot is a liiittle familiar to you, that's probably why!

★ HEADER ART CR; donaldakron on twt

★ SMUT TAGS; sex dreams, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, clothed sex, i-thought-i-was-gonna-lose-you-forever sex, riding, the perfect balance of sweet and dirty talk, creampie

“Miss? Are you alright?”

You blink out the spots in your eyes when you hear Ganyu call out to you in a worried tone. She’s standing awkwardly by the side of your cubicle when you finally snap out of it, and you receive the documents in her hands with a rushed apology.

“Sorry, I’ve been feeling under the weather lately,” you reason, signing whatever she needs to have signed before handing it back. “This is nothing, though. Anything else you need?”

She hesitates for a moment, as if gauging whether or not she should pry, before speaking her mind. “Um, if you’re having trouble falling asleep, I could recommend a shop that sells qingxin petal tea. It’s based in Feiyun Slope, and I always order my stress relieving herbs from there.”

Despite the weight settling across your eyelids, you manage to flash Ganyu a gentle smile, tearing a blank Post-It off the pad on your desk before giving it to her. “Could you write down the name of the store? I’ll make sure to check it out before I head home for the night.”

Ganyu visibly perks up. “O-Of course!”

When she slides the piece of paper back onto your desk, the secretary exchanges farewells with a curt nod – saying she has to pass over the files for Mister Zhongli’s perusal before anything else. If Ganyu notices the way your staged grin falters, she doesn’t say anything. But once you’re alone, you can only slink back into your chair with a contemplative look on your face.

You aren’t going to check out the store that Ganyu recommended like you initially promised. After all, your kind has never responded much to any sort of human medicine. Whatever’s bothering you is only going to be resolved if you stop being stubborn and fed on time – something you only care to do once a month at most.

Even after living your life as a succubus for almost twenty-four years, the idea of having to draw out your life force from… that still made you sick to your stomach. It’s bad enough that your strange constitution wouldn’t let you settle down and have normal relationships, but having to constantly find a source of nutrition is a pain in and of itself.

Your body has quite the standard for the men you’re supposed to suck some sexual energy out of, too. When you indiscriminately pick some rando you saw on the street, you might not effectively absorb the energy you harvested if you aren’t invested enough.

Case in point: unless you try to sleep with someone you remotely care about in their dreams, you’re going to keep craving for a proper fix.

Last month, you had to terrorize the poor barista who’s been serving you coffee at that new café across the street. You thought he wouldn’t think much of it, since you had the inkling the guy was hitting on you every time you ordered. But lo and behold, mister charming, suave barista is actually quite timid when it goes down to it. Your sessions usually took an hour at most to complete and you wouldn’t have to harvest energy again for at least another month. But that guy? You could barely ask him to strip without having to deal with him stumbling out of his dream-bed out of sheer embarrassment. Took you three hours in that dreamscape just to get the bare minimum out of him. And that just goes to show that the people you meet aren’t always what they seem to be – yourself included.

As entertaining as that session turned out though, you couldn’t really make substantial progress with mister barista, which eventually led to your premature hunger pangs. You started feeling a bit off-kilter last week, but you made the mistake of listing it off as nothing but a seasonal flu or something. Once your co-workers caught wind of how exhausted you are at work, you knew it was that time of the month again.

You can always just make up for the minimal energy gain of harvesting from a complete stranger by invading multiple strangers’ dreams, but you still have some shred of dignity. Well, you could just settle with the men in your department, but those slobs are the last ones you’d ever consider sleeping with. But then again, your team is working on a big, end-of-year project that you can’t afford to slack off on, so you need to find this month’s match before your body shuts down completely – even if that means seducing your awful desk neighbor in his sleep.

“Hard at work again, I see.”

You startle at the sound of a deep-seated voice coming from behind you, whisking your chair around to see your boss showing you a kind smile. It isn’t unusual for Zhongli to do some rounds in the office, but –

“Ganyu was looking for you, sir,” you blurt out, trying not to focus on how his neatly pressed tie compliments his eyes. “She had me sign some documents for the project you asked me to oversee, and it seems like she was on her way to your office.”

He hums. “I see. I just made a quick trip to the pantry, but I’ve yet to figure out how one operates the machine they installed in the break room. That’s why I just asked my assistant to purchase a drink from the coffee shop down the street… Are you alright? You’re looking quite pale.”

“Yeah, I’ve never been better,” you lie, trying to force out those memories of too-timid-for-his-own-good barista out of your head. “I’ll make sure to follow up on my assigned report at the end of the week, sir.”

Once again, your senses jolt to life when you feel a large, comforting palm settle on your aching shoulders, giving you a few pats. The sincerity in Zhongli’s eyes doesn’t fade, and you’re seriously wondering how he has it to be so encouraging all the time.

“Everyone deserves to rest when their bodies require it,” he says. “Don’t hesitate to file for sick leave if you’re unable to perform at your fullest because of health reasons. I didn’t overhaul the employee benefits clause in your contracts for nothing.”

Your face heats up at the thought of your boss being this considerate of your well-being. You’ve been working at Wangsheng Corporation for almost two years now, but employees have never been treated the way Zhongli treats them. It’s a miracle that he got transferred here last month – with his gentle voice and mindfulness of others. When he walked through the doors of your department that day, the last thing you expected was a compassionate superior, given that all those assholes in the corporate ladder only cared about money and none else. He was easily a breath of fresh air in the smog of Liyue Harbor, and you’re not about to complain.

“I best be on my way,” he tells you with a hint of remorse. “I’ll be attending a board meeting in thirty minutes. Once it’s been adjourned, you can come to me if you need anything.”

Come to him if you need anything…

For some reason, his words ring inside your head longer than they have to. But before you can even get your bearings straight, your mind is suddenly plagued with images of your boss in a more sensual setting.

You picture a Zhongli who’s free from the stifling confines of his suit – regardless of how dashing he looks in it, you always wondered what he would look like dressed down. You imagine him lying on his bed, golden eyes half-lidded as he beckons you closer; how his hot breath would make your skin tingle as he whispers all the lewd things he wishes to do with you –

“Of course, sir,” you tell him in real life, mustering up a smile that’s enough to hide your own embarrassment. “Thank you for taking the time to stop by.”

Zhongli raises a hand to wave at you before sauntering off to his office, leaving you alone with lecherous thoughts and a growling stomach. But the moment the door clicks shut behind him, you come to a guilty conclusion.

Guess I already found this month’s target.

The hardest part, you think, is falling asleep before feeding.

You’re still at odds with everything you had to do just to survive, so of course you’ll feel a bit queasy when you lay on your bed in preparation. Whether it’s that one cute barista or your attractive boss, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re nervous beyond belief. Navigating a person’s dreamscape is just as tricky as it sounds, and if you aren’t careful, the slightest mishap can lead to unwanted casualties. Worst case scenario: you might get trapped in the dream until the person you’re feeding off of wakes up.

But you can trust your worrisome nature to keep that from happening. The only instance you’d ever get trapped in someone else’s dream is if you lose touch with your own existence within it. That’s why you tend to limit the degree of pleasure you feel in the dreamscape during your feedings. Orgasms are one of the many things that make people, succubi included, lose their grip on reality, so you make sure not to experience such a thing, no matter how tempting it could be at times. And while there are no explicit rules stating that your kind isn’t allowed to indulge in the desires of the flesh – let’s face it, you’re basically a sex demon – you’ve always been too afraid to lose yourself in something that isn’t even real.

You heave a deep sigh as you pull the covers up to your chest. It feels a bit humid lately, so you opted to wear a loose nightgown – one flimsy enough to hopefully tempt Zhongli in his dreams. In spite of the impeccable decorum he exhibits at work, surely he’s still just a man under all those layers of courteousness, right? Humans tend to be more unhinged during your feeding sessions (sans mister timid barista). If the Zhongli that regularly checks up on you at work would exercise more self-restraint, maybe he won’t be as gentlemanly once you hijack his dreams.

The plan is set in stone. Fall asleep, make your way into Zhongli’s head, have sex with him, and make a run for it. You’ve outlined the same plan of action during your previous feedings, so this shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

Still, a small part of you still feels the bite of guilt for intruding on your boss’ peaceful night like this. In what little time he’s spent at Wangsheng Corporation, you can already call him the best superior you’ve ever had, and choosing him as your sacrificial lamb makes it seem as if you have no sense of indebtedness to him. But at the end of the day, you’re just a baser creature with needs to tend to or else you can’t move forward as a fully functioning member of society.

Surprisingly, you doze off much quicker than usual. This must be from the fatigue you accumulated over the past week. Well, that’s what you get for not feeding the moment you started to feel something was off. Either way, you’re en-route to your boss’ subconscious and you’re going to feel much better right after the trip.

The in-between that connects your dream to Zhongli’s looks just like everyone else’s – a dark, narrow corridor that opens up to a light at the end. You traverse the familiar path with bare feet, not so much in a rush despite how hungry you are. Whether it’s your hesitation to use your boss like this holding you back or something else entirely, you’re not very sure. But once you finally step into the light, you close your eyes and hold your breath.

When you come to, you find yourself inside a wide cavern – making your face scrunch up in confusion once your mind processes your surroundings. You expected to appear in a bedroom in his apartment, maybe. But as you glance around the barely illuminated cave, you realize that your timing is incredibly off since Zhongli must have been having a weird dream. It’s happened once before when the person you were supposed to feed on dreamt of living inside the latest superhero movie he saw. Maybe Zhongli watched a strange documentary before heading to bed. That totally sounds like something he’d do.

You decide to have a closer look, noticing that the only sources of light inside are the stone torches perched on the sides of the cavern. Your curiosity gets the better of you when you attempt to approach the flames. But that plan is immediately thwarted once you accidentally step on something solid underfoot. It breaks underneath your weight – the sound echoing deeper into the cave.

You can’t feel any sort of breeze inside, which cements your assumption that the corridor leads to a dead end. Something tells you that you’ll cross paths with another soul if you press forward, but your instincts, however flimsy they might be inside a dream, insist that you go back. To just forget about trying to feed today and just try again tomorrow. Maybe Zhongli wouldn’t be dreaming about weird tunnels by then. None of this is real, but the dread that’s slowly festering in the pit of your stomach is too apparent to ignore.

But it’s as if your body isn’t your own at the moment. Instead of heeding your own sense of danger, your feet carry you further into the darkness – making your imaginary heart pound with both anticipation and fear in equal measure.

Your hunch is proven right when you spot a lone figure at the end of the cavern – observing you from afar where he’s seated rather comfortably. He has one elbow perched on the armrest of his seat, the side of his face resting atop a closed fist. You’re unable to recognize who he is at first, but once you’ve crossed the threshold of the man’s vicinity, you feel a pang of surprise surge through your veins.

“Mister Zhongli...?”

No matter how closely you looked, he's the spitting image of your boss. However, it dawns on you half a second later that he is not the kind-hearted man you've been working with for the past month. This one sits atop a throne of jagged rock, golden antlers sprouting beneath his hood as eyes of a deeper shade glower on with disdain.

“I do not remember giving you permission to speak,” he says, voice reminding you of untamed tremors deep within the earth – resonating with every word. “You best know your place before I'm forced to remind you of it.”

Back in your bedroom, you awake with a start.

Your heart threatens to bust out of your own rib cage with how hard it pounds against it – as if it’s barely catching up to what you just witnessed and heard. You’ve never once pulled yourself out of a dream so quickly, but there’s just something about that version of Zhongli that sets off every code-red alarm inside your head. That isn’t someone you’re going to easily seduce with a see-through nightgown and a bat of your eyelashes. In fact, that man (was he even human?!) looked like he could kill you if he wanted.

“What the fuck?” you mutter, throwing the covers off yourself as you watch your hands tremble in your lap. “Who the hell was that…?”

You don’t have the slightest clue why you’re so shaken up. You’ve seen weirder dreamscapes in the past, but for some reason, when you stepped inside Zhongli’s, everything looked so life-like. As if you were actually transported to a real location in this world. If you actively tried to recall the details, you could’ve sworn you felt the gravel on your feet and caught the archaic scent of stone in the air. But what could a strange-looking Zhongli be doing inside such a place? You knew better than to assume there was a rhyme and reason behind a person’s dreams, but –

The sound of your ringtone going off nearly scares the living daylights out of you before you cast a frantic stare at the nightstand. There, your phone vibrates in time with the obnoxious noise, and you force yourself to get a grip. It’s over. You managed to escape whatever harrowing fate you could have ended up with had you stayed in Zhongli’s dream for even a second longer. There’s no use mulling over it now, is there?

Without checking who was insane enough to call you at this hour, you speak. “H-Hello?”

“Hello. I do have the right number, yes?”

It takes you a moment for your mind to register the voice at the end of the line – that smooth baritone that you’ll never get tired of hearing. Of course Zhongli’s going to ring you up out of nowhere after that.

If it were any other day, you would have swooned at the notion of your superior calling you so late, but this seems a bit too coincidental for comfort. The recurring joke that Zhongli can be a little bit of an airhead has been going around your department for a few weeks now, but sometimes you forget that he can still be as sharp as a whip. Could he have sensed something amiss from the dream you gave him? How did he even get your number?

“Sir,” you greet him as evenly as you can. “Is there something wrong?”

Zhongli is silent for a moment, as if deliberating the words. “Hmm… Nothing in particular. My apologies for disturbing you beyond work hours, but I feel like I had something to tell you but regrettably forgot.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, shifting on top of your bed as you swing your legs over the edge. “Well, if it’s about the report you assigned, I won’t be able to give you the numbers until the end of the week, sir.”

“You’re mistaken. My inquiry isn’t about work,” he tells you, chuckling in a way that makes you blush for some reason. “It’s something a bit personal…yet I can’t seem to put my finger on it.”

“...Is it important enough that you couldn’t wait until tomorrow to discuss it?”

Alright, maybe you spoke a little out of line there. He’s your superior, yes, but your mind is still a bit frazzled from your earlier encounter in the dream. Zhongli certainly sounds like someone that just woke up, and while you like to entertain the idea that you’re the first person he thought about the moment his eyes opened, it’s not enough to dispel your unease.

“Forgive me. Calling you at this hour does seem out of turn –” It is out of turn. “– but I had quite the odd dream. I can’t remember what exactly took place anymore, but I do remember you being in it.”

Calm down. He doesn’t remember the details – not that he had a lot to remember anyways. You could have sworn you only lasted two minutes in his head before scampering back to your own body because that’s how terrified you were. What’s even there to recall about it?

“I see,” you play along. “Maybe you were dreaming about work like usual. You do seem a bit more dedicated to your job than most.”

Zhongli breathes out another laugh that makes your insides tingle. Why does he sound infinitely sexier fresh out of slumber? “You really think that?”

“Wouldn’t dream of anyone who does your job better than you do, sir.”

You wonder, at the last minute, if you said the right thing. But Zhongli lets out a satisfied hum from the other line, coupled with the sound of fabric rustling in the background. You try not to picture what he must look like right now – disheveled hair, unkempt sheets, drowsy eyes – but the image makes its way to your head regardless. The Zhongli you’re speaking to is already so different from the man you met in his dreams, and you can’t even see him right now.

“I suppose I’ve taken up enough of your precious time,” he murmurs, sounding more and more apologetic by the minute. “Thank you for answering my call, regardless of what little value our conversation tonight harbored. I’ll see you tomorrow at the office, hopefully when I’m in a better state of mind.”

Better state of mind, he says. So Zhongli was affected by that dream, too…

But that’s something you can definitely think about later.

“Anytime, sir,” you reply. “Good night.”

“You’re looking worse and worse each day, you know that?”

This time, the person who bothers you at your cubicle is none other than your superior, Director Hu Tao. Though, even if she holds the highest position in the Wangsheng chain-of-command, she’s a bit too free-spirited to call a proper boss.

She watches you slave away behind your laptop with folded arms, not looking the least bit amused. Though she wasn’t really meant to know, the director is one of the few people – more like, the only person – who’s aware of what you are and what you do to survive. It’s probably because Hu Tao comes from a family with deeper connections to all things supernatural, and thankfully, she’s more understanding of your predicament than you’d otherwise expect.

In fact, she was kind enough to let you keep your job so long as you don’t let your…special needs affect your work. But for all of Hu Tao’s usual antics in the office, you know there’s no escaping her when she gets serious about something.

Especially when she’s nagging you about feeding intervals.

“When’s the last time, hm?” she asks, poking your cheek. “Aiya, you’ve lost the flab on your face. Come on, how am I supposed to pinch them now?”

“About a month ago,” you grumble as you revise an important email for the fifth time today. “Director, shouldn’t you be in your office? I heard from Ganyu that you’ve been passing your work onto Mister Zhongli.”

“Pah, the consultant can deal with all the trifling matters in my stead.” Hu Tao shrugs. “Besides, he’s the one who started advocating for better employee conditions in this dump, right? I’m just making sure my subordinates are healthy and happy in the workplace~”

Speaking of Zhongli, it’s been a while since you saw him around. The last time you heard his voice was the night he called you out of nowhere – the same night you hijacked his dreams. Now, it’s already the end of the week and you’re yet to meet with Zhongli despite the deadline he gave you days prior.

“I can hook you up with a bunch of guys I know,” Hu Tao suggests, unceremoniously swinging herself on top of your desk. “All you have to do is get inside their heads and do the magic, right? Hmm… If that’s the case, why don’t you just pick a random celebrity or something?”

“It doesn’t work that way, director,” you sigh. “If it were that easy, I wouldn’t be having this problem every month.”

“Ehh, you’re so choosy.” She pouts. “If sharing a dream with strangers doesn’t work, why don’t you just come after them in real life? Nothing beats the real thing, right?”

You’re mildly aware of how loudly Hu Tao started to mouth off about your…predicament, but fortunately it was the middle of lunch break, and none of your desk neighbors were present to overhear. Pushing your chair from beneath the desk, you breathe in deep as you consider the director’s words.

In hindsight, she was right. You know a bunch of succubi and incubi who copulate with humans nearly everyday – more because they’re weird sex addicts than them trying to last themselves to the next day. But you were drawing blanks as to how you’re going to explain to Hu Tao that the creatures she might have heard about have sex to enjoy it; you have sex to survive. The act itself still makes you squirm, so even if you have attempted to harvest energy in real life, you’d rather steer clear of resorting to that if you could still do the same thing in an unsuspecting man’s dreams.

But now, you aren’t even able to squeeze the tiniest ounce of sexual energy from your usual method. Hence, the problem.

“I’ll think about it,” you half-promise, stretching your limbs with a quiet sigh. “Oh, and if you see Mister Zhongli anywhere, could you tell him I’m done with my report? I was going to ask when he’d like to see it, but I haven’t seen him around lately.”

“Hm? Oh, right. I asked that guy to secure a deal with a Snezhnayan diplomat who’s visiting Liyue over the season,” Hu Tao tells you before hopping back to the floor. “Well, hope you get some sustenance soon, little devil. Wouldn’t want to find you all shrivelled up from sex deprivation one day.”

“Director, please…”

“Hahaha! Just teasing~”

Hu Tao hums a lively tune once she scampers away, and you’re left staring at the blinking cursor on your screen. The email you were drafting is supposed to be sent to the PR officer of the company you’re trying to scout with your report-slash-proposal attached as an extra file. But you can’t send it in without Zhongli’s green light. What’s worse is that it’s starting to get busy in the office at this time. The end of the year is the most hectic, and you’re not sure if you’re ever going to get used to the hustle and bustle that comes with it. It would make sense why Zhongli is suddenly hard to catch.

And your feeding shortage just had to coincide with all of this.

You pull out a hand mirror from your bag, inspecting the way your face looks. Eyebags and chapped lips can easily be concealed with makeup but it’s more difficult to mask the way you’re abnormally losing weight. Even Hu Tao was able to notice it right away. If only eating human food actually contributed to your body mass…

“Tonight for sure,” you mutter – knowing damn well that your words are only worth half a promise.

In all honesty, you don’t put much thought into the exact time of your feedings. You just lay in bed, get into the minds of your targets, and hope both of you fell asleep at the same time. It’s no different on your second attempt at harvesting energy from Zhongli.

You don’t call him, don’t text him. You don’t even bother trying to get some inside information about his sleeping habits from Ganyu. So when you attempt to just wing it one more time, you’re a little surprised to find yourself transported into the dreamscape – a wave of relief washing over you when you realize you’re not inside a cave anymore.

You’re seated at the side of a river surrounded by ruins as far as the eye can see. The sound of flowing water fills your ears, a sound you almost find calming. Someone calls a name that doesn't belong to you, but your body responds to it either way when you turn your head around curiously.

Zhongli stands in front of you, carrying a basket of sunsettias. He doesn’t look as intimidating as the first time you saw him in his dreams, but he’s donned with the same hooded robe, and the same gold-tipped antlers. The cruelty imbued in his gaze in that cavern has long gone – replaced with quiet sincerity that’s reminiscent of the one he exudes in the office. You feel your shoulders relax at the sight of him, but…

Something doesn’t feel right.

He folds his legs at your side, and when he speaks, you hear nothing but a garbled, faraway noise. But despite not understanding a single word he says, you let out the occasional laugh, sometimes nodding along to Zhongli’s words before biting into one of the fruits he foraged. The wind whistles through the reeds in the overrun marsh, and all you can do is admire your companion’s autumn vesper eyes as you partake in a conversation only he understands.

But when you suddenly inch closer to him – caressing his face with a hand that isn’t your own – that’s when you finally realize what was amiss.

“Rex,” the woman whose body you hijacked murmurs fondly, the sleeves of her dress billowing in the breeze. “You should give yourself more credit. The faith of the people has always been well-founded.”

Zhongli gazes at you (at her) with wide eyes before the look melts into a fit of chuckles. His lips move in response to what the woman said and, still, you don’t catch any of it. But when your eyes drift to where his strong arms peeked from the holes of his robe, you’re surprised to see his hands shining like molten amber in the waning light. Golden veins can be seen jutting across his forearms, eventually connecting to the odd patterns depicted on his bicep. The longer you stare, the more you question why your boss made himself look so godly in his dreams. As humble as he is, he does look highly of himself after all.

Turns out, you’re not the only one who was ogling Zhongli in the most inopportune moment. It seems like the woman you’re possessing(?) also treated herself to some eye candy the same time you did, and now you can feel your face heat up with embarrassment when he catches you staring.

You expect him to laugh it off like usual. Your boss gets thrown compliments everyday since he started working at Wangsheng – compliments that never seem to do him enough justice. But he takes them all in stride before resuming the conversation like nothing happened. This Zhongli does none of that.

One of his strange, golden hands seizes your wrist tightly – your bashfulness suddenly morphing into confusion. Zhongli’s mouth twitches into something akin to a smile as he presses forward, forcing you to lean back to introduce as much space between you as possible. You can feel his breath fan against your face – cor lapis eyes glowing with desire – and you’re too stunned to retaliate. His other hand forces itself against the ground next to your hip, caging you in the heat of his embrace. Zhongli speaks again, and you’re starting to feel annoyed with the fact that you can’t make sense of what he’s even saying. But you can’t exactly relish in the feeling much because your body is reaching a fever pitch that’s making your head spin.

This is what you came here to do, isn’t it? Sure, you’re not really the person he’s seeing right now, but anything to get the deed done, right? All you had to do was suck out the sexual energy emanating from the god of a man that’s about to ravish you out in the open. Easy as pie.

His mouth latches onto yours in a way that’s almost familiar – which tells you that this isn’t the first time that Zhongli and this woman met each other so intimately. You respond in kind, letting your borrowed body take the reins as you feel him nudging apart the lapels of your dress, exposing supple breasts to the humid air. A full shudder runs across your skin when he growls against your lips, one arm curling around your waist before Zhongli possessively pulls you to his chest.

Mine.

You don’t hear his voice, but you feel the intent resonate all the way to your core as he practically tears off your clothes. Zhongli rests you atop the grass with little care for possible on-lookers, rolling his hips against yours as he decorates your neck with lovebites. Your fingers rake through his long, dark tresses – imprinting the image in your head for years to come. Your boss Zhongli always ties his hair with a jewel-encrusted band, so this version is definitely one for the books.

I should’ve done this sooner, you think to yourself – whimpering when you feel the ridge of his cock straining against your middle. Much sooner…

The rest of the details are lost in the muddled haze of your thoughts. You don’t remember if Zhongli even prepared you for what’s to come – all you know is the feel of his length prodding your slickened entrance. His grip on your body never falters even as the tip of his cock glides teasingly across your slit. You desperately move your hips closer, begging for the friction he’s holding over your head like a prize. But then, you meet his deep, amber gaze and for a moment, his eyes seem to soften in the midst of his lustful display.

When he kisses you again, your heart – this woman’s heart – comes alive. You can feel how much love she harbors, how she aches for him despite the fact that Zhongli’s hands roam around her body with the intent to leave no inch of skin untouched.

I love you. That’s the only thought that echoes in your mind when he finally takes you – here, by the riverbank where you were the only two people in the world. These emotions aren’t your own, but you feel a surge so intense that you gasp aloud when Zhongli presses himself into you deep enough to make your vision blur. It all feels so real that you don’t even notice it when you naturally absorb the energy you’re meant to take in the first place.

You’re not sure how it’s supposed to work in this situation, given that the body you’re using isn’t even yours. But you practically feel how Zhongli’s libido indirectly rejuvenates your spirits. Despite the fact that you’re being pounded in the middle of nowhere, you feel more refreshed – mind clearer as opposed to the jumbled mess it’s been over the past week. You never actually realize how your hunger can drive you into so much lethargy until you’re finally given the clarity of your sated instincts.

“I don’t care for the humans like you do.”

You startle when you finally hear Zhongli’s familiar voice – hoarse with need, but still the same one you’ve come to admire. His forehead rests against yours as he thrusts his hips relentlessly, with a desperation you can almost see on his face. The woman lets out a sigh before she caresses his face with a gentle hand, thumb gently sweeping across the cut of his cheekbone.

“You will,” she murmurs. “You’re their god, Rex. Their archon. You might not have any love for them now, but in time, you’ll understand.”

Her reply seems to irritate him. You watch as those golden eyes flash yellow with rage, but Zhongli is quick to manage the split-second shift in his emotions. Instead of lashing out, he buries his face into your neck, murmuring so softly, you almost didn’t catch the words.

“You’re the only one I’ll truly care for,” he says, fingers raking through your hair as he stills – filling you with the white hot rush of his release.

“I hope you know that will never change, Guizhong.”

There are two things that you end up mulling over when you finally get back to your own body. The first is the fact that Zhongli has way too hyperactive an imagination. About ninety-five percent of your feedings take place in your targets’ bedrooms, so having sex in the middle of a field is quite the new experience for you. The second is how your boss might actually have a girlfriend and you just…gleaned your monthly sustenance from him. Just like that.

Your latter realization took you the fuck out. The moment you woke up, you marched into your kitchen, popped open whatever cans of beer you had inside the refrigerator, and decided to contemplate your actions for a long time. You typically don’t think about whether or not the person you’re feeding on has a significant other because…you’re not exactly committing adultery if it only takes place in their dreams, right? It isn’t supposed to be a big deal unless they try to make a move on you in real life. But thinking about how you unknowingly trespassed on an ultra hidden fantasy that Zhongli must’ve been having about his girlfriend introduces a spectrum of emotions that you’re too tired to sort out. Embarrassment, regret, shame. Those are just some of the things you’re feeling right now, and hopefully a six-pack is going to be enough to drown your not-so sorrows.

…On the bright side, at least you don’t feel like shit anymore. As you finish your third can of beer tonight, you make the effort to take a look at yourself in the mirror. The color in your cheeks has returned, as well as the so-called flab that Hu Tao misses so much. Those dark circles beneath your eyes have gone too, and admittedly, you haven’t seen your skin glow so much since your last successful feeding two months prior.

But even if this is a cause for celebration – because finally, you won’t have to deal with those nasty hunger pangs again for at least another month – you can’t find it in you to be pleased with your results.

You’re still a bit…conflicted with what you saw in Zhongli’s dream. You assumed it was just some weird fictional fantasy of his, but you’ve been inside the dreams of other men often enough to know that your boss’ dreamscape is a lot different from the rest. You’re yet to put a finger on the rhyme and reason behind your logic, but the experience filled you with the kind of curiosity that’ll get you in trouble one of these days.

“No more prying into your boss’ private life,” you say, pointing at your reflection in the mirror with a frown. “You are not a homewrecker. Got that?”

Now that you’ve recovered from being “under the weather”, all that’s left is to get your work quota over with before the year ends. You’re practically brimming with ideas now that you’re finally in the right headspace to brainstorm about the project that Zhongli entrusted you with. As you pop open your fourth beer alongside your laptop, you’re quite horrified to see the mess of a proposal that you worked on during the onslaught of your physiological suffering. Dear gods, you’re never going to deprive yourself like that again. It’s a good thing you waited for Zhongli’s approval first or else, you might’ve made a fool out of yourself to your clients.

When you finally finish proofreading and making all the appropriate edits, you hop into the shower for a nice, hot bath. And when you crawl underneath the covers, the smooth glide of your sheets feels like heaven against your skin. But regardless of how comfortable you are in your own bed; how relaxed you feel for the first time in weeks, you can’t bring yourself to fall asleep as easily as you’d like.

Every time you close your eyes, all you can see is a man with molten gold irises and branches sprouting from his rich brown hair. You can even remember the smidge of red decorating the fine line of his lashes if you recalled the dream vividly enough. But the moment you start thinking about how he spread you apart and had his way with you –

I’m fucked, you realize as you wrench your eyes open – staring at the ceiling as if it’ll show you even an ounce of sympathy. I am so fucked.

Little did you know that ‘fucked’ is the understatement of the century.

“Ganyu, can I ask you something?”

The next day, you coincidentally find yourself sharing a table with Zhongli’s secretary during your lunch break. Ganyu looks up from the salad she’s been happily feasting on and flashes you a questioning look. “Of course. How can I help, miss?”

You pause for a while – deliberating whether it’s even worth looking into at the last minute – but you’ve already bothered Ganyu so…

“Do you know a woman named Guizhong?”

You’re purposely avoiding her gaze when you bring up the question, casually sticking your fork into the food you ordered at the office cafeteria. But when you notice how Ganyu fell silent for too long, you flick your gaze back to her in the most casual way you can manage. To your surprise, she’s staring at you like you just insulted your family.

“H-How did you hear of that name?”

Brows raised, you offer a nonchalant shrug. “Hmm… I was looking through some old company records and found that name listed in the contacts. I just thought you might know who she is.”

You’re not even sure Ganyu is even going to take the bait for that white lie. There is absolutely no one who knows Wangsheng’s documents better than she does. This woman used to work under the Liyue Qixing, so it’s only natural for her to be meticulous in every aspect of her duties. But instead of laying suspicion on you like you expected her to do, Ganyu seemingly heaves a relieved sigh.

“Well, yes. Miss Guizhong was one of the company’s contacts, but…” She bites her lip, fingers drumming nervously on her thigh. “Please refrain from mentioning that name to Mister Zhongli. As for the reason, it’s…quite complicated. I hope you understand why I can’t disclose any further, miss.”

…So Guizhong is a real person. A real person that Zhongli cares about deeply. But from the way Ganyu responded to your question, things might’ve gone awry between them at some point.

Why do you feel…relieved all of a sudden?

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” you promise – this time, you mean it. “I was just a bit curious.”

The secretary nods. “Mister Zhongli should be coming back today as scheduled. I’ve already gone over your proposal like you asked, and I don’t see any flaws in your plans, miss. I’m certain he’ll approve of it.”

Way to shift the topic of conversation. You might’ve applauded her for how smoothly she made that transition, but Ganyu just indirectly reminded you to keep your head in place. There’s still work to do, and you shouldn’t spend what little time you have fretting about your boss’ not-girlfriend.

“Copy that,” you tell her, finishing the rest of your food with a newfound resolve.

When Zhongli finally arrives back at the office, you make sure to act like you usually do – timid yet just a touch daring when needed. You presented your proposal to Zhongli and the board of directors, since your boss insisted that they’re entitled to study its contents last minute. The idea of having an on-the-spot address makes you queasier than the moments leading up to your monthly feeding. But the entire time, the expectant stares of your other superiors didn’t faze you as much. All you can really focus on, aside from the important points you’ve outlined, are the vibrant gold of Zhongli’s eyes – peering from the nearest seat in the front in silent observation.

He looks so composed, like a slab of unmovable stone. You find it quite difficult to believe that your boss and the man who shows up in his dreams – the one with unruly hair and golden ichor horns – are the same person.

Once you’re finished speaking, the board begins to ask questions one by one – clarifying some things they wanted you to expound on. Thankfully, you’ve gone over your report multiple times before coming into the office this morning. Whatever inquiry they could throw at you, you justified with answers based on the sufficient data you’ve gathered over the past two weeks. You have to admit that being on the receiving end of their impressed stares is doing things to your ego, but what’s important is that your proposal has been pretty much approved. Nothing beats a sense of accomplishment, after all.

Zhongli is kind enough to escort you back to your cubicle, but you insist on dropping by the pantry first for a much-needed coffee break. You tell him that it’s alright if he doesn’t stick around if he has other matters to attend to, but it seems that your boss is going to take his time giving you his brunt of the praise.

“You did well. Far exceeded my expectations, even.” He smiles so radiantly that you can almost feel your chest twist with an unfamiliar feeling. “My apologies for suddenly disappearing all of a sudden. I was planning to help you work out the necessary details for this, but something else came up at the last minute. Though I know this all sounds like me making up petty reasons for my absence.”

You shake your head, taking a sip on your cup of instant coffee. “Not at all! Director Hu told me about your dealings with a Snezhnayan diplomat, so I figured that I needed to step up one way or another.”

Zhongli’s expression morphs into something unreadable before he reaches for one of the paper cups stashed away – filling it with cold water from the dispenser. “Is that what she’s told you all?” he sighs, taking a long gulp of his drink before setting the cup down on the table. “That child… I’m aware she has her way of running things in this company, but she needn’t lie about my whereabouts.”

…Lie? Wait, what exactly did Hu Tao –

“Since I forced you to spearhead such an important project alone, I might as well let you in on the truth,” he laughs softly, lips pressed into a small smile. “Would that make for sufficient compensation?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, avoiding the intensity of his gaze. “Um, you don’t have to if it’s a touchy subject, sir. I respect that we all have lives outside of work.”

“I insist,” Zhongli says, leaning against the wall without breaking eye contact. “It’s also a…means for me to ‘let out some steam’, as the director might’ve put it. But I won’t divulge anything you don’t wish to hear, of course.”

You take a moment to mull over his words. Is he saying that he wants to open up to you or something? Well…

“I don’t mind,” you reply, feeling the skin of your fingertips buzz underneath the heat of your cup. Anticipation – that’s what you’re feeling. “You can tell me anything, sir. And I swear upon my end-of-year bonus that I won’t share it to a single soul.”

Your boss flashes you another smile, shaking his head in amusement. “I’m grateful for your promise of confidentiality. You truly are a worthwhile companion.”

“...As for the real reason behind my absence, no I did not meet with a non-existent envoy from Snezhnaya. I made a three-day trip to Guili Plains.” Zhongli speaks each word carefully, as if not wanting you to miss a beat. “You and the rest of the department aren’t familiar with such a tradition that I make sure to uphold every year, since I was just newly transferred. Ganyu, however, has known me long enough to know that I pay the cemetery there a visit during this season if time permits it.”

The break room is quiet, save for the ever-present hum of the water dispenser. You don’t know why, but there’s a sinking feeling in your gut that tells you you’re not going to like what he’s going to say next.

“When I was still pursuing my Bachelor’s, I had this…friend,” he continues, eyes trailing up to the ceiling as if reminiscing about a better time in his life. “A friend that I held closer to my heart than anyone else. We were supposed to build a company that could change the world together – a pipe dream that youths often pour their souls into when they think they can do anything and everything they desire.

“But one day, that friend fell ill all of a sudden. We both thought it was just a mild sickness, nothing so severe that we should fret about it.” He sighs, and you can see how his mild-mannered demeanor makes way for the sorrow that roots itself on his face. You’ve never seen Zhongli look so…downcast before. It makes you want to reach out and pull him into an embrace, but you know better than to overstep your boundaries. “I’m sure you know where this leads. Turns out, the disease wasn’t just an ordinary coughing fit. She was diagnosed with lung cancer and died of it faster than I could even complete my final semester in college.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you blurt out all of a sudden – the shock on your face surfacing too suddenly for you to hide. “Oh, gods. You didn’t have to tell me this if it pains you to remember sir –”

“None of that,” Zhongli interjects, waving a hand in dismissal. “I chose to tell you this tale, didn’t I? Insisted, even. So you don’t need to worry about my grief, as this is something that I’ve long come to terms with.”

Holy shit. Now you feel twice as terrible for feeling relieved that things between him and Guizhong have gone south. It’s all because she was dead. Great, now the fates are probably going to turn you into a lizard in your next life just to call it quits or something. But you don’t really have much room for those self-deprecating thoughts after everything Zhongli just told you.

“Guili Plains is quite far from here,” you comment, choosing your words carefully. “Did she live there?

Zhongli hums. “Yes and no. The two of us lived together here in Liyue Harbor while we completed our studies, but she grew up in Guili. They’re no longer growing there today, but she used to tell me about how much she loved the glaze lilies that bloomed outside of her childhood home.”

…A ‘friend’ he used to live with. A ‘friend’ he held closer to his heart than anyone else. If there are awards for being the worst at masking hidden details, Zhongli is definitely raking everything in. Though you suppose now’s not the time to be nitpicking about your boss’ lack of subtlety.

“How long has it been?” you ask. “If…you don’t mind me asking.”

“I think we’re both past the point of minding,” he chuckles, despite everything, and you can hardly believe it. “But…it’s been six years since she passed.”

Six years, and he still dreams of her.

You nod slowly before finishing the rest of your coffee – now cold with how long you took to drink it.

“Thank you for sharing all this to me, sir. I–I…don’t know what to say,” you admit.

“Nor do I expect you to say anything at all,” he tells you. “Just having an ear to listen to my…troubles is worth more than all the mora in this company combined. It’s quite rare for me to find anyone willing to hear me out.”

You wonder if it’s because of Zhongli’s picture perfect image that no one would stop to think that he experiences the same things everyone does. He grieves. He loves. He even lays himself vulnerable like this. Hell, you wouldn’t even dare to imagine Zhongli being anything but the unflawed superior everyone knows and adores if he never spoke about this at all.

But he did. He trusted you enough to share a part of himself that he doesn’t just let anyone else know about. Whether it was just to repay your so-called stellar performance or something else, you’re grateful for his faith in you either way.

All of a sudden, you stride closer to Zhongli – the sound of you bumping against the side of the table at your urgency surprising him a bit. Before you can slip-up any further, you hold out your hand as you cast him a determined stare.

“I’ll be looking forward to working on this project with you.”

Zhongli is at a loss for words for a while, those deep amber eyes alternating between your face and your outstretched hand. You wonder if he thinks you’re doing some sort of alien gesture. But in the end, your worries are dispelled the moment he shakes it gingerly.

“I feel the exact same way,” Zhongli says – in a much brighter tone now that the storm has passed.

You just hope it will be a while before the clouds roll overhead once more.

The days pass by before you know it.

Along with the end of the year comes the beginning of your newest project. Zhongli was kind enough to lay all the groundwork in your stead, and all you had to do was secure some due partnerships with other companies residing in Yujing Terrace. With just a bit more convincing, you might even get the Liyue Qixing to become one of the official sponsors for the event, especially with someone like Ganyu by your side. Rumor has it that she’s one of Lady Ningguang’s favorite secretaries, until Zhongli whisked her away. You just prayed that she won’t take your boss’ past history of secretary-nabbing personally.

Your reputation has slowly picked up in your department as well. For the past two years, you were always careful about the connections you made because even if Hu Tao is privy to your unique constitution, you’ll be forced to switch locations if someone catches wind that you’re a succubus. You’re certain that the director could pull a few strings if something like that ever happened, but you never really liked relying on others too much – more so making them share your burdens.

At least, that’s how things were before Zhongli entrusted you with such an important task.

“There’s a drinking party somewhere at Chihu Rock – one of the newbies is treating,” Zhang, the desk neighbor you used to hate so much, informs you as he stuffs his laptop into his backpack. “The girls from accounting asked me to invite you, if you’re wondering.”

You cast him a surprised stare while you tidy up your own workspace, sparing a quiet laugh once you get ahold of yourself. “You guys aren’t bullying the new employees into footing the bill, are you?”

“Hey, if this is how they want to get in their seniors’ good graces, who am I to say no?” He shrugs, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “So, you coming or not?”

Now that you think about it, you don’t particularly have anything else to get done for this week. All the necessary preparations for the first leg of the event are in place, and your team members assured that they’ll give you a ring once something comes up.

“Sure thing,” you tell Zhang with a smile. “There better be finger food.”

Company drinking parties aren’t as bad as you thought. They’re not mixers in disguise, like all the manga you’ve illegally downloaded off Inazuman websites suggested. You got to know your close colleagues, and some other people in departments that rarely come into contact with yours. The alcohol isn’t half bad either, especially when the lively newcomer Zhang told you about is going to make good on his promise. You’re not so stuck-up that you’ll deny free food and drinks once they’re offered.

To your dismay, you still aren’t used to drinking with a lot of people as company. Normally, you just grab a few packs of beer from the supermarket before consuming them in your lonesome at home. You realize a little too late that if you’re drinking out, you really shouldn’t be chugging glass after glass as if you’re the only person enjoying the liquor out here.

After a few more pints, some of your co-workers have started to tap out – making you pout at them, red-faced and more pissy than usual. “What? You guys are going? And here I thought these drinking parties lasted until morning.”

Zhang shakes his head at your side, clinking his glass with yours before downing his drink. “Right? These guys have been hanging out with us for months, but they act like they can’t handle drinking on a work night.”

“Hmph, we all know why you’re insistent on staying behind tonight, Zhang,” one of the girls from accounting – Chen? Was that her name? – says, rolling her eyes as she hoists her handbag over her shoulder. “Just…take care of her, alright? Zhongli’s going to kick your ass if something happens.”

You’re still feeling a bit woozy from the beer, so you can only crane your head in confusion. What did she mean by take care of you? You can take care of yourself, thank you very –

“I will, I will,” Zhang chuckles, and suddenly, you feel a heavy arm drape itself across your shoulders – making you wrinkle your nose. “I never expected her to drink so much, but it’s a good thing that I’m here.”

“I doubt that,” Chen scoffs. “Oh, well. See you guys tomorrow!”

Once the others make their leave, that’s when you start mumbling under your breath “Ugh. The first time I actually come along to these kinds of things and the people who invited me don’t even last until the end,” you complain, pressing your face against the wooden table in front of you. “Where’s the kid that said he was going to pay for everything? It’s just the two of us left…”

Zhang rubs your back in a way that isn’t really soothing the way your skin burns from the alcohol, but you’re a bit too intoxicated to tell him off. “Aww, don’t worry. Some of my pals helped the poor guy home, but he asked the bar to put everything on his tab before he passed out. So if you still want to have a go, I’m down.”

You can feel something buzzing in your bag, but it’s probably just a text notification from your phone carrier. You’ve been receiving a lot of those lately. Maybe you should pay your bill soon. But your thoughts about phone bills are rudely interrupted by the feel of Zhang snaking an arm around your waist – pulling you upright as he steadies your shoulder with his free hand.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep here,” he says. “You’re going to feel like shit once you wake up from a drunk nap, you know.”

“Don’t care…” you mumble, eyelids drooping as you lose your grip on the handle of your glass. “‘M so sleepy. Can you get me a cab back home, Zhang…? Don’t think I can commute anymore.”

Zhang doesn’t respond right away, and you nearly doze off in that short bout of silence. But eventually, your desk neighbor helps you back to your feet and walks you out of the bar – exchanging farewells with the bartender on your way out.

The late evening breeze feels chilly against your legs, even through your stockings – yet that isn’t quite enough to make you snap out of your drowsiness. You end up leaning against Zhang for support as you wait for him to call a cab, all the while you screw your eyes shut – trying to stop your head from spinning.

“You know… There’s a hotel nearby that we can just crash in for the night.”

You’re too far between consciousness and slumber to fully process what he just said. All you can do is press the side of your face against his shoulder as you attempt not to fall asleep on the spot. But, apparently, Zhang takes your lack of a response for confirmation – wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he leads you to the direction of the hotel. You don’t really think of it much, since the desire to sleep is the only thing weighing on your mind right now. You’re just glad someone’s patient enough to guide you as you stumble around the sidewalk.

Suddenly, though, Zhang’s strides come to a halt.

Your mind vaguely registers the sound of him speaking to someone else. Huh. You could’ve sworn the others have already left. But their conversation lasts a bit longer than you anticipated, and you force yourself to listen in.

“...Thank you for watching out for her all this time. I’ll take it from here.”

This voice…? Is that –

“U-Uh, sure, sir,” you can hear Zhang sputter beside you before you feel him shift your weight onto something – no, someone else. “I don’t really know where she lives so –”

You don’t really hear the rest of what Zhang has to say because you’re distracted by the person who just joined the fray. His clothes feel thick underneath your touch, like tailored fabric made from the most exquisite material, and they carry a familiar scent that reminds you of incense – one with a unique spice, just a touch archaic. You might’ve been too drunk to tell at the time, but if you had more strength than you did, you would’ve pushed Zhang away because his touch alone already didn’t feel right. With this person, though? You’d gladly lay in his arms for days.

The last memory you have that night is the sensation of being gently ushered into the passenger seat of an unfamiliar car. A soothing voice speaks to you constantly, as if trying to keep you awake. But the gentle lull of his words do little to aid that particular cause, and when he slides into the driver’s seat next to you, you’re already out like a light.

“Is anything the matter?”

You blink in non-plus, feeling like you’ve just woken up from a dream despite the fact that you’re sitting in a vast field of flowers. Wait a moment.

Glancing at your side, you see the Zhongli’s humanoid counterpart – those draconian eyes of his scanning your face to see if something was wrong. In his hands is a bundle of pale blue flowers, clutched tightly between his clawed fingers, and you feel your shoulders sag. The idea that you unknowingly stepped into his dreams again as Guizhong incites a rush of guilt that you have all the reason to feel right now.

You don’t even remember planning on feeding tonight. Sure, it’s been a while since the first time you collected energy from your boss, but you’re not particularly in need of a refill right now. How did you even end up here in the first place?

Thankfully, Guizhong does all the talking while you accustom yourself to your unplanned invasion. “I just never thought you’d humor my request. You were never that fond of the glaze lilies.”

“This is where I met you all those years ago,” he reminds you. “Why would I ever loathe the thing that brought us together, my love?”

Silence envelops the two of you for a sliver of a moment, and you catch the scent of the ephemeral flowers even in the filtered reality of Zhongli’s dream. Guizhong lets out a peal of gentle laughter as she picks one of the lilies that grew in abundance – examining the unassuming bloom rather fondly.

“These flowers take the memories of the land and transform them into an unforgettable fragrance,” she murmurs. “When the war is over, do you think they’ll still carry the scent of our union, Rex?”

…War? There’s a war?

But in the end, you never get to hear Zhongli’s answer nor the proper explanation behind what Guizhong just said. When you open your eyes, it’s to an unfamiliar room that makes you bolt upright – eyes frantically darting around the vicinity while you try to recall what happened before you fell asleep.

Drinking party. Zhang being all touchy feely. Being taken care of by someone else.

You try not to think about the awful taste that lingers in your mouth as you try to figure out whose house you’re currently crashing. This obviously isn’t yours because you can’t afford the imported rug that’s tucked underneath the queen-sized bed. However, when your gaze lands on the dark-wood nightstand, you see a couple of glaze lilies sitting in an expensive-looking vase.

The next thing your barely sober mind takes note of is the presence of another person on the bed right next to you. Anticipation coils in your gut as you turn around slowly, and when you see Zhongli sleeping soundly a respectable distance away, you can’t help the way your heart throbs at the sight. He looks a bit more like the man in his dreams like this – dark hair pooled messily across his pillows. And you also notice that he’s still in the dress shirt he often wears to work, further suggesting that he might’ve fallen asleep while watching over you. The idea is enough to make your face flush with shame.

You spot your bag placed on top of a table at the other side of the room, so you quietly slip out of his bed before retrieving your phone inside. How did Zhongli even know where you were? Was he aware that you were out drinking with your colleagues? A single glance at your lock screen is all the answer you need because there, you bear witness to several unanswered calls and text messages from your boss himself.

From where you stood, you cast the man in question a longing stare. He was kind enough to take care of you when you obviously couldn’t do that for yourself – even going as far as to let you sleep on the same bed as him. Zhongli is quite the busy man. Busy enough that he always turns down any and all invitations for drinks, yet he showed up outside the bar earlier tonight and just…took you back home with him? You don’t see any signs that he might’ve tried to take advantage of your inebriated state either – not that you believed that Zhongli is capable of such a thing. He was a proper gentleman through and through.

But…good intentions aside, you’re still at a loss for answers when you recall the dream you shared with him just now. This is the first time you found yourself inside a dreamscape without meaning to, and you’re unsure of whether or not this is a cause for alarm. What’s more is that his dreams always seem to take place in a world that’s wholly unfamiliar to you – a place where you take the form of his past lover without any real reason behind it.

Not wanting to overstay your welcome, you quickly type in a text message to Zhongli – thanking him for everything he’s done, along with an apology that you’ll probably repeat once you see him again in the office. Although you’re more conscious of his aberrant dreams than you imposing on his kindness.

You tell yourself to just leave whatever you saw, whatever you heard there in his mind. There’s no reason for you to keep nosing in. You already got your fill, right? And you never feed on the same person twice – never.

You just hope you can live by that personal rule of yours for as long as you can.

News flash: you cave to your pesky, curious tendencies not two days since the incident.

Zhongli makes it terribly easy for you, too. Every night, by eleven P.M., your boss is already sound asleep – providing you with ample time to travel in-between dreams before reaching the one that perpetually occurs inside his head.

The more you make these timely visits, the more you learn about the life that Zhongli – no, Rex Lapis – lives in this world. He’s someone that mortals call the God of Contracts. Someone who shows no mercy to anyone who dares break any sort of agreement that they willingly set in stone. He and Guizhong live in an era where the gods fight for the title of archon – a concept that you’re still having some trouble wrapping your head around. But in the most fundamental sense, Rex is someone equally respected and feared, and you can’t blame others for feeling that way.

When he speaks to people that aren’t Guizhong, he dons a stone-cold visage that still makes your blood run cold despite how many times you’ve seen it. It wasn’t a bluff when he said he didn’t care for the humans he and his lover watched over. All he wanted was to give Guizhong a place to live comfortably – and if that meant felling other gods just to attain that goal, he’ll gladly bloody his hands for it.

But Guizhong, the God of Dust, was never that fond of Rex’s violent ways of doing things.

She reminds him that humans are just as small and fragile as dust. They do not know when they’re bound to lose their lives to disaster or strife, and so they live in fear. Because they live in fear, they try so hard to be much more than the small, fragile creatures that the gods have reduced them to. Guizhong is a god who’s more human than divine, and you suppose that’s something that Rex is yet to fully understand.

These are only some of the things you learned during your visits, and you can’t help but tune into every scenario that unfolds. Like a television series you can’t quite get enough of. However, you’re careful not to let the curious tale of Zhongli’s dreams hinder you in your waking life.

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to remember any of the things that take place in his dreams. Whenever you run into him at work, Zhongli simply greets you with that trademark smile of his before discussing business as usual. No telltale signs of any sort of disturbance rooted from his slumber.

At the office, you notice that you’ve become closer beyond measure as well – both as colleagues and, you daresay, friends. Along with the team you’re heading for the project, your boss is one of your constant support systems during such a hectic time in your career.

Not only does he serve as something similar to your advisor, but he also keeps you company whenever you need to unwind.

During one of your late dinners, you share a glass of wine in his company as he shares some embarrassing work stories over the years. Zhongli is about three years your senior, so it makes sense for him to have more tales to tell. Nonetheless, you enjoy every minute of it, and in the back of your mind, you wonder when he’ll take you out like this again.

But when Zhongli drives you back to your apartment that night, he abruptly grabs hold of your wrist as you open the door to the passenger seat. You shoot him a startled look, but your boss’ alluring gaze doesn’t waver. You want to ask him what’s the matter, but before you can even get a single word out, he’s already pulling you close enough for a kiss.

You can’t process what was happening fast enough – simply sitting there in shock as you feel your superior’s mouth move against yours. When Zhongli doesn’t get so much as a reaction from you though, he pulls away with a troubled look on his face.

“I apologize. Really, I do,” Zhongli says. “Perhaps I’ve had too much –”

This time, your senses finally kickstart into motion as you throw your arms around his neck before pulling him in again. You return his kiss in earnest, even going as far as licking the swell of his bottom lip to show you that you’re more eager for his affections than he initially assumed. And when you feel his strong arms circle around your waist in the same, possessive way he held you in the first dream, you all but moan into his mouth.

You’re not sure how things led up to this point, exactly. It’s true that you and him have grown more familiar with each other since the project’s launch, but you never would’ve imagined doing this with Zhongli in real life. You thought you were content with having sampled the more sensual side of him in your dreams, but as it turns out, Hu Tao was right.

Nothing beats the real thing.

“What does this mean?” you whisper in-between gasps, laughing a bit as Zhongli chases after your lips. He lets out a disgruntled noise when you pull away, and you feel the urgency in his touch when his hand rests against your cheek.

“It means I fancy you very much,” he tells you bluntly. “Though I admit, this might be too sudden. I understand if you don’t feel the same way, or if you don’t wish to do these kinds of things with me. I just hope my admission doesn’t change our dynamic at work.”

…Is he being for real? Did Zhongli just assume that you didn’t feel the same way?

“Everything happens all in due time,” you tell him with a smile, brushing away some of his bangs as you take the time to admire the man before you. “And who said I wasn’t at all interested, sir?”

Zhongli sighs, dipping his head closer to press a fleeting kiss on your forehead. The sensation sets your heart alight with glee, and you can’t help but lean closer to his touch.

“When it’s just the two of us, I’d prefer it if you called me by my first name,” he tells you as he presses another kiss to your cheek. “Would that be alright?”

“Of course,” you breathe – placing your hand over the one he’s using to cup your face. “I’d love that.”

At that moment, you don’t think about how it’s been tough for you to find yourself a boyfriend over the last few years. How starting a relationship like this with Zhongli is going to give you more problems than you bargained for. All that matters is the comforting warmth of his touch as the two of you bask in each other’s company in the privacy of his car.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Times where you attempt to contact people like yourself are few and far in between. You want little to do in the lifestyles of other succubi and incubi, but it’s a different case with Xingqiu.

You met him by chance in the most awkward way possible. One time, you decided that a college boy who once interned at Wangsheng was going to be your target of the month. But on the night you tried to harvest energy from him, someone else was already occupying the dream – doing the things you were supposed to do before you could even arrive.

Long story short, you ended up doing a little snooping around with your targets first before going in for the kill. You wouldn’t want to run into Xingqiu in the middle of a feeding again, after all.

“It’s been a while,” he comments as you slide into the seat across from him. Xingqiu closes the book he was reading and props an elbow on the table, resting his head against the curve of his palm. “I’m guessing this is really important if you came to me for help.”

“It is,” you sigh.

Your companion nods along and smiles. “Okay, I’ll hear you out. Make sure to order something first because I can tell this one’s going to take us a while.”

Wanmin Restaurant, the place he chose for your quick meeting, serves the best Black-Back Perch Stew you’ve ever tasted in your life. This makes it a whole lot easier to settle down and explain your situation to Xingqiu to the most minute details. He quietly eats his own food as you tell him about the dreams you experience inside Zhongli’s head. How it always takes place in the same setting. How the sequence of events seem to have a linear pattern to them – which is quite rare to encounter in a human’s dreams. You’ve never once felt any sense of order whenever you hopped into the minds of your targets, but it’s as if you’re witnessing something straight out of a film reel when it comes to your boss-turned-lover.

You suspect that Xingqiu has been an incubus long before you’ve even been born. In spite of his appearance, you can tell he holds more wisdom about your kind than one would expect. So it doesn’t come as a surprise when he quietly hums at the end of your story – an answer already prepared in advance.

“Memories,” he says simply. “You’re not just witnessing that man’s dreams – you’re watching his memories.”

You frown. “But…that place is something that’s straight out of a fantasy novel. Gods and monsters? A world plunged into a war? How could Zhongli have memories of that?”

Xingqiu spares you a soft laugh. “How do creatures like us still exist in a world catered for humans and humans alone? There are many things that can’t be explained by pure logic. But I have a hunch that the owner of the memories you see is both your boyfriend and isn’t at the same time.”

“...I’m sorry?”

“Do you believe in past lives?” he asks. “Reincarnation, exactly. Do you believe that all of us have already lived once before?”

“Are you saying that the stuff I’m seeing in his dreams are memories of a past life?” you clarify, face twisting with confusion. “Xingqiu, isn’t that a bit…”

“Crazy? It is,” he chuckles. “But like I said, this world leaves a lot of things unexplained. Some details are meant to sound crazy so you wouldn’t think they’re actually possible.”

You toy with what’s left of your dish, the appetite you’ve built up suddenly dissipating at the idea that Xingqiu just proposed to you. So even in a past life, Zhongli adored Guizhong to the point that he’d tear both heaven and earth asunder all in her name. You wonder if the Zhongli in this world, the one you’re currently dating, loved Guizhong to the same degree as well. He probably did, and you probably wouldn’t compare to someone like her.

“Is it possible for past lives to have some…parallels to the ones we live now?” Your voice is quiet, almost as if you fear for the answer.

The incubus considers the question for a moment. “Well, yes. The saying ‘history repeats itself’ isn’t exactly true because history doesn’t repeat itself – sometimes, it just rhymes. Things that occurred in the past can occur again in the present, but they won’t always entail the same meaning.”

You receive his words with a solemn nod, feeling your chest twist uncomfortably. Somehow, you don’t really like the sound of that.

“Thank you,” you tell Xingqiu when the two of you are done splitting the bill. “You seriously shed some light on a lot of things that were confusing me.”

“Don’t mention it,” he insists, tucking his book underneath his shoulder. For a moment, you think that this is where you part ways, but Xingqiu suddenly pauses – eyes narrowing as he leans closer to you. “When was the last time you fed?”

You’re taken aback by his sudden inquiry, but you manage an answer all the same. “Um, a while.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? You have a boyfriend that’s more than willing to help you, right?” He posits the question like he expected the answer to be yes, but when you shyly avert your gaze, Xingqiu’s smile falls almost immediately. “Oh, no. He doesn’t know what you are, does he?”

“It’s kind of hard to just go off on a tangent and say, ‘hey I’m actually a demon that receives my life force from dream sex’,” you point out, but know he’s right either way. “I…I do plan on telling him. Just not anytime soon. We’re kind of busy with a huge project at work, and I can’t really drop something like that out of nowhere.”

Xingqiu sighs, pinching his nose between his fingers. “But you’ve been spending a lot of time in his dreams anyways. Am I right? You seem to know an awful lot about his past life now that I think about it.”

…Of course Xingqiu’s going to be the one who catches you red-handed.

It’s really no secret that you still frequent Zhongli’s dreams, not to feed but to learn more about the life Rex lived alongside Guizhong. Since you started going out with your boss, the details became more descriptive with each visit. It’s as if you’re starting to assimilate yourself better in Guizhong’s body, and you could glean more insight about that strange, strange world with more certainty. Last night, she and Rex talked about how they plan on transferring the Guili Assembly to the harbor city, where they’ll be far from the evil gods that wish to kill them all.

“Well, whatever your circumstances are, you know what happens when you don’t feed,” Xingqiu reminds you almost grimly, not leaving any trace of his once cheerful façade. “Don’t downplay the effects of hunger. We’re already an endangered species as is.”

As you head home that day, you end up thinking about his warning more than you should. Everything Xingqiu said is in the right – you knew as much. You’ve had to suffer through the aftereffects only recently yourself, but...

You can take it. Just a bit more.

The next day, Zhongli comes over to your apartment to prepare dinner for you. He’s been excited all week to serve you his signature bamboo shoot soup, but Xingqiu’s words haunt you for the entirety of the day. You try your best not to make your distress obvious to your boyfriend, but you’re gravely mistaken if you thought Zhongli wasn’t going to catch on.

“Is anything on your mind?” he asks softly, pressing his lips to your neck. You’re seated comfortably in his lap as the two of you lounge on the sofa. But even if this has become one of your favorite places to relax with him, you just can’t bring yourself to do so now.

“Just…work,” you sigh as you rest your head across his chest.

The beat of his heart is steady like usual, reminding you that Zhongli is real and breathing right beside you. That he’s not just a product of your dreams, like your mind always leads you to believe.

“Somehow I don’t believe that.” You can almost hear him pout. “Was dinner not to your liking, perhaps?”

“No, it’s not that,” you insist. “I’m just…really tired is all.”

That’s not exactly a lie. You’re starting to feel the effects of your own self-deprivation with each passing day. And even if you already learned your lesson last time, your conscience can’t take the idea of feeding on another person when you have a boyfriend. To further add to your list of problems, even if you wanted to harness energy from Zhongli, the setting of his dreams is too convoluted for you to pick up the right momentum.

Rex Lapis was working hard to defend the land that he and Guizhong dedicated their lives to protect. Even if you appeared as the woman he loved more than anything else in his dreams, you doubt you’ll be able to seduce him during such a crucial period in the war.

So now, you’re stuck in a stalemate between your own stubbornness and physiological needs. You’re not even going to be surprised anymore if your body just suddenly gives out on you one of these days.

“Can I propose something that could take your mind off such trifling affairs?”

The room falls silent once he utters the words, and you feel the blood rush to your cheeks. Was he suggesting what you think he’s suggesting?

As far as intimacy goes, you haven’t really gone all the way with Zhongli. Apart from the occasional makeout sessions in the break room, in his office, and sometimes even his car, you never really sought for anything more than that. You’re well aware that Guizhong’s death is still fresh in his heart, and if he ever considered the possibility of sex, you’d want him to come to you in his own time.

This is quite the opportune moment for it, too. You’re barely keeping up appearances now that your stockpile of sexual energy started to dwindle. But now that Zhongli was coming onto you, you suppose it won’t hurt to kill two birds with one stone.

There’s something different in the air as he carries you to your bedroom – lips never straying too far from yours. Zhongli’s eyes are heavily lidded with want, a look you have a tough time imagining on him given the man’s saintlike patience. But as he carefully peels off your clothes, you can’t help but think how different he is from Rex. Where the God of Contracts is ferocious and impatient, Zhongli seems like he’s going to take all the time in the world to drown you in his love.

“That tickles,” you mewl as his fingers trail across your inner thigh and you feel him smirk against the skin of your throat.

“I know,” he says. “I quite enjoy seeing you squirm underneath my touch.”

“You’re mean…”

You can barely contain the gasp that resounds from your lips when you feel him tracing your slick entrance with the prod of his fingers. Zhongli murmurs the sweetest things against your lips, yet the things he’s doing between your thighs are anything but innocent. He keeps your knees apart, spreading you open for only him to see, and as he gazes at you from above, you clumsily tug off the tie that’s holding his beautiful hair in place.

Dark brown tresses cascade across the sides of his head. You stare up at the gorgeous man above you with a longing sigh.

When his long, thick digits sink into you, you silence your moans in the curve of his shoulder – teeth biting down at his flesh as Zhongli loosens you up. You feel his thumb occasionally catching on your clit, as if meaning to tease a momentary sensation of pleasure before denying you a few moments later. He’s cruel like that. Nonetheless, he watches you with quiet fascination as you practically grind yourself against his hand – feeling just how wet his fingers have gotten in the short time you were inside the room. The squelch of your cunt is a sound you would’ve been too embarrassed to hear, had you been with someone else. But with Zhongli, everything just seems so right.

“That’s it,” he goads you huskily, teeth grazing the side of your jaw. “Lose yourself for me, darling. Think of no one else but me.”

Darling? That’s new. But the new pet name only serves to push you over the edge – making your walls clench around his fingers as you ride out your orgasm. Zhongli claims your lips in another heated kiss, relentlessly plunging his digits into you despite the overstimulation. You beg him to stop, but the only sound that comes from your mouth is a broken moan of his name.

You’re nothing but a boneless pile on the bed when you finally come down from your high, breathing heavily as you attempt to reorient yourself to your surroundings. The sensation of Zhongli shifting above you registers a bit late in your mind, but your frayed nerves jolt back to life when you feel him rubbing the head of his cock across your glistening seam.

“Too much,” you whimper. “Zhongli, i-it’s too much…”

He leans down to press a loving kiss on your mouth, one of his hands rubbing your hip soothingly. “Shhh, I know you can take me. Just like you always have.”

…Wait, what?

You can’t even offer what he said another thought because Zhongli makes good on his words and slowly slips his length into you without much warning. A sob nearly tears its way out of your throat with how his thick cock stretches you to the brim, but your lover kisses away the tears before they even come.

“You mean so much to me,” he murmurs, twining his hands with yours. “More than you could ever know.”

That was a given. Having Zhongli as a boyfriend made you feel like you were important; you were loved. Though you haven’t been dating for all that long, he never once gave you a reason to doubt the sincerity of his feelings. So despite all the odd things you unknowingly witnessed in his dreams, you like to believe that he meant every word.

His hips slap against yours unabated, pumping his length hard and fast enough to make you croon his name over and over. And even if he managed to exhibit some degree of patience a while ago, it takes little time for Zhongli to move past his courtesy and bite down on the skin of your throat hard enough to bruise.

“Mine,” he growls. “I’ll never let you go, my love.”

You would’ve teased him for such a cheesy choice of words if you were under different circumstances. But the moment the new endearment falls from Zhongli’s lips, you go completely still underneath him.

“Stop. Zhongli, please stop.”

To his credit, he listens just as told – gazing at you with a puzzled look as he takes his length out. Zhongli is concerned for a moment, because you’re staring at him as if he’s killed a man right in front of you. When he reaches out a hand to touch your face, intent on asking what was wrong, you instinctively slap it away.

“I…” Your voice fails you. After all, how on earth can you just tell him that you wanted to stop because that was the very same thing that Rex calls Guizhong in his dreams. You can’t help but think that Zhongli used to call the Guizhong of this world the same thing, too.

Sometimes, real life could coincide with what happens in the dreamscape. Inside his mind, Rex Lapis sees Guizhong, not you. And you’re more than inclined to believe that it’s the same case here with Zhongli.

You’re not the one he sees – it’s the dead woman that he’s never stopped loving these past six years.

You know you’re being obtuse. Your boss isn’t the kind of person who lets his past grievances interfere with his present relationships. But the anxiety you’ve accumulated since your meeting with Xingqiu had boiled over with the worst timing possible.

Instead of talking it out, you roll over to your side of the bed – pulling the covers tight enough around your body so that he sees no inch of it. You know that what you’re doing is probably hurting Zhongli more than you think, but you shut out any hint of remorse that threatens to make you waver.

It doesn’t take long for him to settle on the spot right next to you. Zhongli doesn’t ask why you suddenly pushed him away, nor do you make an effort to explain.

“I’m sorry.”

His words ring sincerely enough, but it sounds like he doesn’t even know what he’s apologizing for. You don’t fault him for it. You’re still unsure why you even let yourself be consumed by your own doubts. Didn’t you just say you believed in Zhongli when he told you how much you mean to him?

You suppose this is where you fall short compared to Guizhong. The God of Dust put her faith in Rex Lapis despite his violent tendencies. She believes in him both as his follower and lover in equal measure. You, though? You’re already lucky enough to be dealing with a mellowed down version of the man in your dreams, but you still decide to take it for granted. Because…what? You’re insecure? You’re jealous of a woman who’s been dead for six years?

In the end, you decide that you’re too tired to think about it at the moment. Since you interrupted your own feeding session, your body wasn’t able to gain even an ounce of energy. You’re better off preserving what little you had left if you knew what was good for you.

(If Zhongli hears you choke on your own sobs later in the night, he says nothing of it in the morning.)

“Can you make a contract with me?”

Rex Lapis is cleaning the blood off his polearm when Guizhong’s voice cuts through the silence of the night. He stares at her hard, yet his gaze still carries a hint of fondness he’s reserved for her and her alone.

She purses her lips before continuing, “If I were to be infected by the miasma that’s tainting the guardian yakshas in the front lines, I want you to take my life.”

“No.” His answer is quick and precise, as if he’s already mulled it over several times before she even brought the matter to light. “If that happens, I’ll turn this world upside down just to find a cure that can save you.”

“Yet you can’t even do that for the children who devoted their lives to you?”

He stills, feeling the jab of his lover’s accusation hit harder than he expected. It’s not that he doesn’t care for the adepti – he simply knows that it’s in their nature to be more tenacious than the rest of their soldiers. Rex Lapis is certain that they can resist the effects of the miasma on their own merit. Guizhong, however, is just as delicate as the dust she holds dominion over. He’d rather watch the world burn first than let her die either by his hand or the corruption induced by that pesky miasma.

But still, he respects all his lover’s thoughts and wishes. She isn’t the brains of their operation for nothing. Without her, he wouldn’t have made it half as far in this war as he did now.

“Very well,” Rex Lapis agrees, albeit reluctantly. “I will honor this contract until the day I die.”

Guizhong’s eyes soften at his decision, and when she smiles, he feels his stone cold heart thawing at the radiance that only she can ever exude.

“I know you will.”

“You’re doing it again, huh?”

Hu Tao ambles by your cubicle with that knowing tone of hers, arms crossed in a way that suggests you’re about to receive another thorough scolding. But you’re really not in the mood to be told off by someone who hasn’t lived in your shoes before, so you opt to ignore her.

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” she huffs, fingers pinching your face like she often does but you keep your eyes straight on the screen of your laptop. “Aren’t you and the consultant seeing each other lately? Is he not good in bed or something?”

Thankfully, the director has the decency to lower her voice when she speaks, making you heave another sigh before glancing at her warily. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Hmm… Let me guess. You’re doing something you’re not supposed to, aren’t you?”

Hu Tao’s perceptiveness is absolutely beyond you. You’ve always known that she’s quicker on the uptake than most people you’ve met in life, but it’s almost scary how she’s seemingly aware of your actions. You’re the succubus and she’s the human, but sometimes you feel like Hu Tao has more power over you than you initially assumed.

You try not to think about the more recent additions to your vignettes of Zhongli’s past memories. You can tell that the stakes of the war were growing higher and higher each time you visited his dreams. Could that be the influence of the current events in his life?

Ever since the night you pushed him away, you and Zhongli haven’t been on speaking terms. Sure, the two of you still conversed about details that need fine-tuning for your project, but beyond that, it’s complete radio silence. His good morning and good night texts have stopped, and he’s never once dropped by your apartment in that time frame; nor has he invited you over to his own. His distant behavior tears you up more than you realize, but you tell yourself that he has all the right to avoid you if he’s upset about what you did.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell Hu Tao. “Director, forgive me for being blunt, but I’d like to focus on this report now.”

Your superior sighs. You assume she’s going to concede early for a change, but the moment you think Hu Tao is already on her way, you feel her lean closer to your ear, whispering something that sends a chill down your spine.

“Don’t dive too deep into matters that don’t concern you. Don’t try to change things that have already been set in stone,” she says calmly, her fingers digging slightly into your shoulders. “If you lose sight of what’s really important, you might lose yourself in the process, too.”

When she lets go of you, Hu Tao continues humming that same, lively song she always sings – leaving you to deal with the guilt that grips your heart like a vice.

About two weeks since Zhongli started giving you the silent treatment, you come to a sound conclusion.

He’s still thinking about Guizhong. Well, she was his first love – meaning, your boss isn’t exactly going to stop thinking of her anytime soon. But you thought about your conversation with Xingqiu several times over the last few days. You hypothesized that the reason why Zhongli was continuously dreaming about his memories of a past long gone is because his grief cuts even deeper than he let on.

Though you have no means of making sure, you’re almost too certain that the reason Zhongli still thinks of her even if you’re right in front of him is because her memory is too painful to let go. He clings to it subconsciously, and that desperation manifests itself in his dreams – back to a lifetime where Guizhong still lives.

The things that happened in the past are bound to happen in the present; that’s what Xingqiu told you the last time. So if the Guizhong in this world has already passed on, it’s safe to assume that the one in his dreams is bound to face the same fate as well.

But…you have the power to change that.

Even if it’s nothing but a memory now, what if you could alter the outcome? If Zhongli is left with memories of Guizhong that aren’t tained with sorrow, maybe he can finally move past it.

Maybe he can finally see you instead of her.

It’s a fool’s line of reasoning – you know that. This was going to be one of the most dangerous things you tried in anyone’s dreamscape. But you’re so catastrophically in love with Zhongli, that you’d give up anything just to ease his pain.

You’re well aware that your body is deteriorating at an exponential pace. Not only are you expending a lot of energy to tinker with Zhongli’s memories, but you don’t even bother with feeding anymore. You tell yourself that you can do that later, once you manage to save Guizhong from her timely demise.

Everything you can think of to keep her from dying, you made sure happened in the dream. You don’t let her walk out to the front lines to give orders like she usually does. You make sure to avoid all the guardian yakshas, who are already tainted with the corruption that craftier gods weaponized against Rex Lapis’ forces. And most of all, you don’t let her leave his sight longer than she needs to – because if there’s anyone you can rely on to keep Guizhong alive, it’s Zhongli himself.

Of course, you’re still doing splendidly in keeping your work life separate from everything else. Your project has officially come to a close, raking in more revenue for Wangsheng than anyone expected.

Today, you’re scheduled to give a speech addressing everyone’s efforts in the company’s conference room – something that you’re a bit reluctant to do because you know Zhongli is going to be there, too. The idea of him looking at you from the crowd with none of the adoration he used to give so freely is enough to make your stomach turn.

But still, you compose yourself. You’re no stranger to adversity, so seeing your boyfriend (can you even still call him that?) in a crowded room is the least of your problems.

At least, that’s what you thought.

When Director Hu Tao calls you up to the platform, you're raring to go – practicing with deep breaths as you repeat the gist of your speech inside your head. You made sure to cake your face with a heavier layer of makeup this time around because the last thing you need is for her to pull you to the side and scold you for still refusing to feed.

But the moment you get up from your seat, the world suddenly tilts to the side – your vision going black within seconds.

The last thing you remember is being whisked into a pair of strong arms. You want to curl your fingers in the fabric of his coat, to apologize a million times over, but the familiar scent of his clothes is enough to put you straight to sleep.

“Goodness, miss. You had us terrified back there.”

Ganyu is sitting by your bed in the infirmary when you regain consciousness, wiping the tears off her face with a dainty handkerchief. You mumble a half-hearted apology, but immediately seize up when you see Zhongli leaning against the wall in front of you.

“The nurse told us she suspected that you might have an eating disorder,” the secretary continues, rubbing your hand comfortingly. “It did seem like you were pushing yourself harder than usual during the last few weeks. You should really take care of yourself more.”

An eating disorder…? Well, if depriving yourself of your required sustenance can be translated into a human affliction, you suppose that was the most obvious counterpart. Still, you’re still feeling a bit too groggy for conversation, so instead of addressing Ganyu’s plight, you sink further into the mattress.

You can feel his gaze on your pitiful form – those eyes of endless gold. But you’re too much of a coward to face him when you’ve been reduced into such a state.

A little while later, you hear the door to the infirmary swing open. Is it odd that you can tell that the newcomer is Hu Tao based on the sound of her footsteps alone?

“Leave us,” she says sternly – addressing both Ganyu and Zhongli at the same time. “There’s something I need to discuss with her.”

You half-expect Zhongli to complain, or at least contest the director’s orders. But your heart sinks when he resigns himself to what he’s told, quietly ushering himself and his secretary out of the room.

Hu Tao waits for about two more minutes before speaking again.

“You better feed now or you’re going to die for real.”

“...But –”

“I can’t have you dying on my watch just because you’re being stubborn about it,” Hu Tao nearly snaps – eyes alight with rage. “Feed now. I don’t care who it is, just do it. I won’t let you out of this place until you’ve gotten better.”

To say that you’re terrified is putting it lightly. You’ve never seen Hu Tao get angry before, but the absolute urgency in her gaze – practically begging you to please just save yourself – makes you consider her request.

“Okay,” you say quietly, only surrendering because you can’t save Guizhong if you’re dead. “See you in a bit.”

‘A bit’ is a lie that you didn’t really mean to tell. When you entered the crossroads of the dreamscape, you didn’t bother picking targets anymore. You slipped into the dream of a man who’s probably in his thirties, intent on just getting him off, sucking out some energy for yourself before making your leave.

But no matter how many times you attempt to drive him to an orgasm, you don’t feel yourself getting any better. The energy that always emanates out of a man post-coitus is nowhere to be found.

You switch targets faster than you can even blink. This time, it’s a boy that’s probably fresh out of high school, and you feel a bit horrible for having to trespass like this. But instead of fretting about common decency in a goddamn dream , you make him come about two consecutive times before realizing that –

This isn’t working, you mutter to yourself. Why the hell isn’t it working?

You’ve always had a hard time harnessing energy from strangers, yes. However, those instances granted you at least a tiny ounce of energy that could stem the hunger for a while. Now, you’re getting absolutely nothing.

It seems that Hu Tao is already privy to your dilemma when you wake up in your own body.

“I’m going to put him to sleep,” she decides with a vexed sigh. “Make sure you get enough energy to last you for an entire year, got that? No meddling with anything else.”

“W-Wait,” you croak out, and damn, you feel even weaker than before. “What do you mean you’re going to put him to sleep? Are you talking about Zhongli?”

“Who else could I be talking about, little devil?” The director rolls her eyes. “Now, I’m going to ask you to pretend I’m not about to do something illegal and just rest. The moment you fall asleep, get into Zhongli’s head and feed. Okay?”

You don’t even get a chance to respond to Hu Tao’s words because you’re already nodding. Your bones feel like lead, limbs feel like they’ll fall off any minute. If you stay conscious any longer, your eyes might just dry out.

It doesn’t take five minutes for you to fall asleep again. And as you drift aimlessly in the depths of your subconscious, a part of you that’s still coherent anticipates that it might take a while before you find Zhongli’s dreamscape. You’re not sure how long ‘putting him to sleep’ is going to be, but surprisingly, your existence is abruptly transported to the familiar marshlands of Dihua.

You chalk it up to how often you’ve been hopping into Zhongli’s dreams, but you immediately notice that something isn’t right. The skies have turned into an ashen gray color – columns of smoke rising in several locations at once. When you gaze around, all you see are the fallen bodies of both soldiers and monsters alike.

Rex. You need to find Rex Lapis.

That’s your very first instinct once your consciousness fully pulls through, careful to step over the decaying corpses as you mutter a silent prayer for each one. But just when you thought you’re going to end up tripping on one of them, you watch in equal parts horror and confusion when you witness your leg pass through the carcass of a dead monster.

All it takes is a single glance down for you to know that you’re no longer inside Guizhong’s body. Instead, you drift around as an apparition of sorts – arms, legs, and torso appearing less saturated than usual. It’s like you’ve become a transparent cut-out, and you give yourself a minute to think about what the hell was going on. This has never happened in your previous feedings. You’ve always been able to maintain your form, despite the numerous instances you’ve hopped in between dreamscapes.

In the distance, however, you find the answer to all of your questions.

You spot them amidst the debris left behind by the battle. Rex Lapis kneels at the side of the most beautiful woman you’ve seen in your life – cradling her frail body in his arms as golden tears flowed forth from his eyes. It’s the first time he’s surrendered the unmovable visage you’ve gotten so used to seeing in this dream. Gone is the unfeeling, uncaring God of Contracts who felled his own enemies like it was as easy as breathing. In his place is a man who only wanted to live with the person he adored the most.

Guizhong’s pale skin is overrun by dark lacerations that look like black veins rooted into the surface. Her own eyes glisten with tears as she reaches up to cradle Zhongli’s face. She says something that you don’t hear over the wind howling in your ears, but you don’t let yourself remain stagnant for a second longer.

You run straight to them with what little strength you can muster – intent on shaking Guizhong by the shoulders to scream, “No! This isn’t how things were supposed to be! You were supposed to live. I was supposed to save you!”

But none of these messages get across to either of the two. To them, you’re nothing but the breeze on their skin – violently whipping all around as the war only worsened. There aren’t any clear winners here, this is becoming clear to you. But as the God of Dust heaves her final breath, you hear Guizhong speak for the last time.

“Thank you… For honoring our contract,” she sighs, blood dribbling down the sides of her mouth as she forces herself to smile. In her hand, she lifts up a stone dumbbell with a complicated structure – something you’ve never seen before despite all the time you spent in her body.

“This is the mark of our pledge, and it is also my challenge to you.” Guizhong hands it to him shakily, still careful despite being on death’s doorstep. “All my wisdom is contained inside. If you can unlock it –”

She never gets to finish the words. A loud clap of thunder booms across the marsh – deafening even when you don’t have the body in this dream to perceive the sensation. Zhongli makes a mistake of letting the noise distract him, because when he glances at Guizhong once more, the woman he loves has already crumbled in his arms.

Once the dust settles over the war-torn battlefield, Rex Lapis rises back to his feet. You can see the weight of his grief in the way his golden hands tremble at his sides. But just as quickly as his lover’s passing, he summons his polearm back in his hands – thrusting the hilt into the ground hard enough to break through the barren soil. The God of Contracts lets out a monstrous shout – terror rooting itself into your being. The sound is fearsome. Inescapable.

And with a single twist of his hand, the earth starts to shake beneath your feet.

Xingqiu arrives at Hu Tao’s quarters faster than she anticipated, blue eyes startled to see the two bodies resting on top of her bed. The director pays his reaction no mind, though. Instead, she fills him in on the situation.

“I had my guards carry these two up here,” she explains, pointing a finger interchangeably at you and Zhongli. “That guy, I drugged to put him to sleep so she can get inside his dreams for sustenance. But it’s been about three hours, and neither of them are waking up.”

“What? She still hasn’t fed?” The incubus asks incredulously. “It’s been almost a month since I last saw her. Back then, she was already starving. Don’t tell me she’s been holding out all this time.”

“You’d be surprised at the lengths that stubbornness can take a person,” Hu Tao chuckles, leaning back into her seat as she twists some of the rings on her fingers.

Xingqiu lets out a long, exasperated exhale as he sits by the bed – watching you and your so-called boyfriend doze soundly next to the other. But your deathly pale complexion doesn’t escape his notice. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve assumed you were dead.

“While I am very concerned about my friend’s destructive behavior,” he begins, casting a sidelong glance at the Wangsheng director. “I’m more curious about why you’re helping them in the first place. It’s not like you to meddle in things that are none of your business to begin with. And yet…”

Hu Tao sighs. She’s been hanging around this demon boy from the Guhua clan for too long. He can already discern what’s normal and unusual for her behavior, and she isn’t really a fan of being perceived like that.

But unwittingly, his words got her thinking.

“Remember how you pulled me out of the in-between when I tried to reach out to Grandfather in the afterlife? I nearly died because of it,” she sighs, remembering her past experiences with meddling none-too-fondly. “I can’t just stand here and watch my subordinate slowly kill herself the same way when I know someone who can help.”

Xingqiu sighs again. “Director, I’m an incubus, not a miracle worker. Us crossing paths at the in-between was nothing but a coincidence… But then again, that’s the same way I met her back then, too.” He casts your ghastly form a wistful glance. If he’d known that divulging information about your lover’s past memories would lead to this, he never would’ve said a word.

“I need you to fetch both of them before they get trapped in their own dreams. I’ll fork over whatever amount you like,” Hu Tao proposes, her usually playful demeanor now replaced by something more grim. “Just – please. Save them.”

“...That’s a really tall order, you know?” The incubus shakes his head in disbelief. “The in-between is the last place I’d want to hang around, but this woman is my friend, too. You don’t have to cough up any –”

To both their surprise (and relief), Zhongli seizes up on the bed, sitting upright as he gasps for breath. Hu Tao uncharacteristically scrambles to hand him a glass of water, which he empties in the span of five seconds. But even if the sight of your boyfriend rousing himself from the dream is a good thing, Xingqiu notices how you’re yet to follow suit.

It seems that Zhongli followed his line of sight as well, and both him and Hu Tao can practically hear the sound of his heart plummeting straight to his stomach at the sight of you.

“No,” he murmurs, a shaky hand reaching up to caress your face. “Not again…”

Again?

“Xingqiu, change of plans,” Hu Tao calls out softly as she meets his eyes. She doesn’t even need to elaborate further for him to understand.

“What plan are you talking about?” Zhongli interrupts with a hard frown. “What did you do to her?”

“Oi, consultant. Don’t go accusing the people that are trying to help,” Hu Tao snarks, shooting him a dirty look. “We’re running out of time, so I’m going to give you the abridged version. Your girlfriend? She’s trapped in some place called the in-between. It’s the space that separates dreams from reality; the afterlife from the human realm.”

“But if she’s really trapped in your dream, she should’ve woken up at the same time you did,” Xingqiu adds. “That’s why I’m assuming she wandered too far and got herself stranded in your memories instead.”

“...My memories?”

The director nods. “Yup. And unless she finds the key in her own subconscious and escapes on her own or someone else enters the same dreamscape and helps her…”

“She’ll be trapped in there forever.”

Both director and incubus stare at the poor man expectantly, wondering how he’ll take the information they just dumped on him. Xingqiu wouldn’t be surprised to see him call them a bunch of lunatics before contacting the authorities for the unsightly method Hu Tao employed just to get him to sleep. But Zhongli is strangely composed, nodding once, twice before turning to his half-dead lover.

“Tell me what I need to do,” he says quietly. In turn, Xingqiu breathes out another sigh in relief as Hu Tao claps her hands together gleefully.

“That’s the spirit, consultant!” The director beams. “Now let’s save your girlfriend, yeah?”

You didn’t want any of this.

The sounds of a never-ending battle rages on outside – the impact of gods fighting to the death causing your temporary shelter to quake where you hide yourself away. The cave you took refuge in resembles the one you woke up in the first time you attempted to feed on Zhongli, but you don’t bother making comparisons. Not that it matters. You’re nothing but a ghost anyways – unable to go back from whence you came, and unable to go to the next place you’re supposed to be.

Still, you didn’t want to bear witness to Zhongli slaughtering hundreds in mere seconds. You’ve seen him fight before – he’s always fought valiantly in this war especially when Guizhong was by his side. But now that she’s gone, the God of Contracts is nothing but a husk of a man.

All that’s left is a bloodthirsty killing machine that intends to paint the land in the angry red of his grief.

Despite how hopeless your situation is, you can’t help but pray to whoever’s listening. You want them to remind Rex Lapis of the dream he once shared with Guizhong – to build a nation by the harbor, where no gods nor monsters can hope to harm the Guili Assembly. But as long as he continues his onslaught of carnage, that dream will never be realized.

Then, you think about the Zhongli that’s waiting for you back home.

Regret is the first emotion that occurs in your ephemeral form. You wish you could have apologized for that night – for assuming that he still isn’t over his dead ex-lover. For attempting to alter memories that aren’t truly his own for the sake of your own ego.

For never saying how much you loved him before disappearing for good.

If only you communicated with him normally like a proper girlfriend should. If only you didn’t assume the worst about him just because he once loved someone more than he loved you sometime ago.

You’ve heard of incidents where succubi and incubi aren’t able to wake up from their feedings. It’s either they’re trapped in an unstable human’s dream or trapped in their own because of internal instability. You don’t know exactly how to classify your situation, but you suppose that the reason why you can’t wake yourself up is because of Guizhong.

She became your vessel in these memories during your first successful feeding. And since then, you’ve used her body to traverse the strange land that she and Rex Lapis supposedly hold dominion over. But regardless of how careful you were with Guizhong, she still died. There was nothing you could do to change something that was already set in stone, and instead you lost your way back to where you truly belonged.

For someone who claims to hate her own heritage as a succubus, this just goes to show how much you actually relied on your powers.

Gods. This fucking sucks.

You can only imagine how devastated Zhongli would feel to find your lifeless body in the real world – clutching you to his chest the same way Rex did with Guizhong. Two girlfriends dying on him in the span of six years. You wonder if he’ll ever love again.

…If Zhongli was in your place, he would have spoken to you the moment he felt uneasy about your past. He would’ve asked for some reassurance so he wouldn’t have to worry like this.

He never would’ve tried to change you.

He would’ve told you that he trusted you.

You miss him so much that it tears you from the inside out. If only you can see him again – see that beautiful smile again – you’d hold him tight and tell him a million times.

You’d tell him you were a coward. That you were too afraid of splitting his affections with a woman who doesn’t even exist anymore.

But…it’s too late for all that now, isn’t it?

Helplessly, you pull up your barely-there knees to your chest, burying your face in between as you make yourself smaller. You want to cry yourself hoarse, but the tears never come. All you can do is sit alone in the darkness, where you can only dream of someone finding you in the middle of the chaos.

You’re too caught up in your own sorrow to discern the beam of light that splinters through the darkness. You don’t notice the man that steps into the in-between with you; don’t notice as he approaches. It’s only when you feel the familiar sensation of a large, comforting hand on your shoulder that you snap out of your misery.

“There you are,” Zhongli – your Zhongli – breathes out.

When you finally wake up, you feel like someone brought you back from the dead.

You can barely breathe without it feeling like the oxygen is ripping your lungs to shreds. But before you can asphyxiate yourself, a familiar figure hands you a glass of water, along with a handful of dried leaves. You glance up at Hu Tao in confusion as she stares at you nonchalantly.

“You were in the in-between for gods-know how long,” the director reminds you. “Go chew on those to recover.”

“...I was what?”

“You were as good as dead.” The sound of Xingqiu’s familiar voice makes you jump, but the incubus simply turns the page on his novel from where he’s seated by the foot of the unfamiliar bed. “I’ve heard of succubi going a few weeks without food, but two months? Do you have a death wish?”

Your head is spinning from all the whiplash, and you actually take Hu Tao’s advice and drink some water before chewing on her magic leaves. But when you notice that there’s someone else occupying the mattress with you, your heart soars with relief.

“Hello,” Zhongli greets you.

“Hi,” you greet him back.

In your peripheral, you can see Hu Tao mouthing something you can’t decipher to Xingqiu – a message that your incubus friend is quick to pick up on before the two of them step out of the room to give you more privacy. Now that you noticed it, you were probably taken up to the director’s quarters at some point during your coma. Either way, once the door clicks shut, it’s just you and Zhongli – the first time you’ve been alone with him since that night in your apartment.

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag now, isn’t it?” you say nervously, unsure where you should even begin. But you suppose an apology is a good starting point. “I’m…sorry. For everything.”

Zhongli sighs, sitting up right to pull you in a tight hug. The abruptness of the gesture makes you drop the leaves on the bed, stunning you into complete silence.

“I thought I lost you,” he nearly chokes – a sound that you never would’ve imagined Zhongli making. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

The pure anguish in his voice makes your heart clench, and now that you have a body that actually lets you feel things, you’re finally given the familiar sensation of eyes stinging with tears. You return Zhongli’s embrace with equal fervor – letting yourself sob into the hollow of his neck.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you babble, chest seizing with tremors as you curl your fingers into his hair. “I never should’ve hidden the truth about me. I never should’ve meddled with the past. And… I never should’ve questioned the way you feel about me.”

You can feel Zhongli’s erratic pulse against your chest, and you find the fact that it’s possible for his heart to race a relief to know. When he pulls away, his cheeks are wet with tears – not the golden liquid that poured from Rex Lapis’ eyes, but the very same tears that you’re crying right this second.

This is your Zhongli. This is the man you fell in love with.

You wonder why you even tried to change a past he experienced in a different life – knowing full well just how different he is from the God of Contracts.

“I love you,” you murmur, pressing your forehead against his. “Zhongli, I love you.”

“And as I do you,” he breathes. “The director and the Guhua boy have already informed me of your…special circumstances, but I’d like to hear the tale of your escapades in my dreams some other time.”

You pause. “So you don’t want me to explain why I did everything I did?”

“Of course I do.” Zhongli shakes his head. “But…I was also told that you’ve been depriving yourself of sustenance for nearly two months now. As your lover, I’m inclined to help you out of your predicaments, yes?”

Oh. Oh.

“B-But we’re in the director’s room…” you tell him bashfully, feeling a surge of heat creep up your neck. “And I owe you a proper explanation for –”

He promptly shuts you up with a kiss. The nerve of this guy!

“Darling, will you allow me to make love to you?” he murmurs the words against your lips, already pulling you to his lap. “Properly this time.”

You know you should snap him out of it and insist that you’re fine. That you’ll last another day without sex if that means you can sufficiently explain yourself because Zhongli deserves as much. But you remember, at that moment, that you’re particularly weak when he starts to trail featherlight kisses along your neck. Zhongli knows this as well as you do, and you can feel him smile triumphantly when you let out a sigh in defeat.

He doesn’t bother removing your clothes; practically tearing a hole into your pantyhose at his impatience. You balk at him for doing such a thing, but Zhongli promises to buy you another set once everything is settled.

“Do you find it strange that I’m terribly aroused despite everything that happened?” he asks you, hauling his cock out of his unzipped trousers as he gives it a few pumps.

“Not at all,” you respond in kind. “I’ve always thought you were hornier than you seemed. It’s always the prim and proper ones, you know?”

You bite your lip as you grind your clothed cunt against his hardening length, feeling your desire pool in between your thighs at the mere thought of him inside you. Zhongli bites down his laughter, nuzzling the crook of your neck as he spreads you open on his lap.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Nudging your underwear aside, you sink yourself onto his thick length with a blissful sigh – feeling his cockhead hitting all the right spots. Zhongli plants his palms firmly on your hips, barely able to contain the hunger in his eyes as he watches you bounce on top of his dick. Your skirt hikes further up your thighs with each downward plunge, and your lover cares to swallow your moans with an open-mouthed kiss.

You all but muffle a scream into his lips when you feel Zhongli thrusting his hips up to meet the cadence of your movements. Tears catch in the lines of your lashes from how good it feels, and you nearly come right then and there when he pulls away to whisper in your ear.

“I’m going to fill you to the brim,” he promises. “My seed will drip down your thighs from here on out so you’ll never forget where you belong.”

“By your side?” you whisper, purposely clenching your walls around his length to elicit a reaction.

Zhongli grunts in approval, much to your amusement. “By my side.”

He switches things up at the last minute, flipping you over so that you’re lying down on the bed. You open your mouth to protest, but Zhongli is already pressing your knees against your thighs – plunging his cock into the velvet heat of your cunt as he hits it deeper than before.

“I’d gladly fuck you everyday if that means you’ll never starve again,” your lover tells you with a growl, golden irises boring deep into your own. “Would you like that? Would you like me to sate your needs?”

“Yes,” you mewl as your fingers rake across his back. “Yes, yes yes! I only want you, Zhongli. Please –”

Your climax blindsides you out of nowhere, cunt squeezing around his cock impossibly tight. You screw your eyes shut, burying your face in his shoulder as your body shudders and trembles from the force of it. Zhongli, however, is intent on taking advantage of your vulnerable state. He doesn’t relent – just continues pounding you into the bed as he chases his own high.

“You’re the only one I love,” he tells you all of a sudden, momentarily pulling you out of your lustful haze. “You might not be the first, but you’ll certainly be the last.”

“Stop saying cheesy things while you’re fucking my brains out,” you moan. “You’re going to make me cry…”

“Heh, that’s the point.”

As promised, Zhongli finishes inside you with a shuddering sigh – and you feel the surge of his hot seed painting your insides. You’ve never felt so satisfied after having real sex with a real human, but when you’re actually in love with the person you’re sleeping with, you suppose there’s lots of room for exceptions.

“So why were you chasing ghosts that don’t even haunt me anymore?”

You finish the rest of the water that Hu Tao offered earlier when Zhongli asks you the million-dollar question. Your heart twists with both guilt and apprehension, but you know that this is the best time to lay the truth on the table.

“I was…bothered when you called me by the thing that Rex Lapis called Guizhong the goddess in your dreams,” you admit. “I thought you were thinking about Guizhong your ex while you were with me.”

Zhongli nods as he fixes his own clothes, an unreadable look settling on his face. “Rex Lapis…is the identity I had in a past life, isn’t it? And Guizhong was his lover.”

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t explain why you tried to alter my memories, though,” he points out.

“Well, I thought if I could lessen the pain of your memories of Guizhong, you’d stop thinking about her and start thinking about me.” Gods, you sound like such a fucking brat. “That – That was really childish of me. I’m sorry. I even got the director and Xingqiu involved because of my own impulsiveness…”

“If you look at it that way then, yes. It is very childish of you. But I think that just goes to show how deeply you feel about me,” Zhongli suggests with a handsome smile, reaching out to hold your hand in his. “You want me to look at you, and only you?”

“Of course I do,” you mumble. “You want me to do the same for you, right? I’m just trying to make things even…”

Your lover lets out another laugh, raising your hand to his lips as he places a soft kiss on your skin. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to Zhongli’s show of affection.

“Guizhong…is a person who’s near and dear to me even now,” he says, going off a tangent as he rubs comforting circles into your wrist. “But do you know the last thing she told me before she passed?”

You shake your head. “What?”

“That I shouldn’t chain myself to the past, no matter how painful it is to carry on,” Zhongli continues. “My life here is much simpler than the life Rex Lapis lived. I have no idea what you saw in my – rather, his memories to make you assume that the same applies for me. But I assure you that I’m not a man who’ll punish himself by constantly mulling over what-ifs and could-have-beens.

“All that matters is the present, and what I choose to do now, while you’re still by my side.”

…Damn it. You’re feeling the waterworks again.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you whisper, squeezing his hand just to make sure he was real.

“That, I’m afraid I can’t answer,” he chuckles. “But, on the topic of your immeasurable love, the Guhua boy imparted another interesting piece of information before lending me his powers to save you.”

“...Wait, I’ve been wondering how you got inside the in-between,” you tell him. “So it was Xingqiu? How the hell did he do that?”

“Darling, please refrain from asking questions I don’t have answers to.”

“Fine, fine. What did he say that was so interesting then?”

Zhongli laughs, and something about the shift in his tone makes you narrow your eyes in suspicion. “Director Hu said you tried to harvest energy from other men while you were on the brink of death but it didn’t work. Xingqiu informed us that when your kind starts to feel strongly about a certain human, you won’t be able to harness energy anywhere else apart from that person.”

“...Why do I feel like you’re just gloating now?”

“That’s because I am.”

The sound of the door sliding abruptly catches your attention. Hu Tao emerges from the entrance as she claps her hands loudly. “Alright, that’s enough lovey-dovey chit-chat. I’m going to have the maids launder my sheets first before I sleep in them tonight!”

Your face flushes with embarrassment. “Director Hu Tao, I –”

“Aiya! No apologies. It’s all good,” she insists. “But hey, consultaaant~ Now that I let you and your girlfriend have reunion sex in my quarters, you’re not going to press any charges for assault, will you?”

“Wait, what charges?” Your gaze darts between the two of them curiously.

Zhongli drags a palm over his face, as if having just realized something terrible. “In order to help you get into my dreams, the director laced my tea with a potent drug. I was unconscious for quite some time. But I won’t press any charges, since I have little patience for the tedium of the Liyue Police Station.”

“Aww, you’re the best!” Hu Tao gushes before turning to you. “By the way, Xingqiu already went ahead, but he asked me to give you this.”

You blink as Hu Tao hands you a sleek black business card with the words “Dr. Paimon” printed with embossed lettering. Zhongli peers over your shoulder, examining the card with the same degree of curiosity.

“He didn’t really elaborate, but rumor has it, that person can turn you into a normal human,” the director explains, smiling with intent. “I figured that since you’re probably gonna want to spend the rest of your life with the old man, you’d want to give up your immortality.”

Immortality… A staple that comes with being a succubus. It’s one of the most fundamental reasons why your kind fed on sexual energy in the first place, yet you never stopped to think of your future if you stayed immortal, while Zhongli continues to age with the passage of time.

You won’t be able to start a family with him; have his children; grow old with him. Because that’s the fate that your kind has long been cursed with since they first walked the earth. But now, you’re given a way out – even if it sounds too good to be true.

You’re afraid to look at Zhongli. You feel like you should accept the offer, but everything that transpired today is just so overwhelming that you’re not sure if you can make the right choice…

But as always, he’s here to support you.

“You don’t have to make a decision now,” he reminds. “We still have work tomorrow, so I suggest we head home and rest first. I’m sure that can wait.”

…Being thrust back into the nightmare that is the Liyuen corporate ladder after nearly dying in the in-between. Way to maintain a sense of normalcy, Zhongli.

Well, ‘normal’ is the best thing that the universe can give to you right now. Too bad you’re not selfless enough to deny the one thing you’ve been craving after all this time.

“Miss? Here’s the tea you asked for.”

Ganyu’s voice flits through your ears like a calming breeze. She places your drink on your desk – just behind a plaque that reads Wangsheng Corporation - Consultant. The scent of freshly brewed qingxin petals wafts to your nose and you feel every nerve ending in your body relax at the more aroma.

“Thank you,” you tell her kindly. “You’re right. This tea really does work miracles.”

Your secretary hides a giggle behind her hand. “Both Lady Ningguang and Mister Zhongli became fond of it when I started working for them. I figured it would be the same with you.”

The golden band on your finger seems to glint in the sunlight streaming into your office as you take a few sips. You used to think that tea was nothing but leaf water, but if you have someone like Zhongli for a husband, you’re bound to start appreciating the finer things in life – Ganyu’s herbal remedy included.

“Oh, that reminds me,” she perks up. “Is the director coming back soon? I heard that four months is already a good time to check for the gender.”

You’re a bit surprised by her words, but Ganyu has always exhibited her excitement for the budding life in your womb the moment you made the announcement a few months back.

“Zhongli’s secretary told me he should be home by the end of the week,” you tell her kindly, free hand instinctively going to the slight swell of your belly. “Once we figure out whether it’s a boy or a girl, I promise you’re the first person we’ll inform.”

She gasps. “You really mean that, miss?”

“Why not? You’re the godmother after all~”

Once Ganyu recovers from the initial shock from being assigned as your child’s godmother, you’re left to your lonesome once more.

It’s been six months since Hu Tao stepped down as the director for Wangsheng Corporation – passing the title onto Zhongli – and six months since you’ve held office as the company’s new consultant. At times, you still find it strange, how you’re the one giving advice with regards to your husband’s dealings with other businesses. But you remind yourself that everything happens all in due time.

Your old life as a succubus is way behind you now, but there are moments where you still think of what happened to Rex Lapis after Guizhong’s death. Did he get killed by the other gods? Did he lead the Guili Assembly to the harbor? What happened to the stone dumbbell Guizhong gave to him? You’ll never know now that you’ve lost the ability to travel through dreams.

But in the back of your head, you hoped he was able to find some sort of deliverance from the pain induced by his lover’s passing.

In the midst of your contemplation, your phone buzzes with a text – one that you’re quick to open.

Zhongli [10:54]: I’m boarding the plane at Fontaine National Airport right now. Should be back by tonight :)

Huh. That was earlier than expected.

Me [10:54] We’ll be waiting with a nice bottle of osmanthus ^__^

Zhongli [10:55]: Darling, please. Drinking is bad for the baby

Me [10:55]: One glass won’t cause genetic disorders, Zhongli.

Zhongli [10:56]: Very well… I’ll still make sure to watch your consumption though.

Me [10:56]: Fine by me <3 Take care on the way back. I love you.

Zhongli [11:15]: Sorry, just got past a checkpoint. I love you, too.

You put away your phone with a sigh, tracing the rim of your teacup absentmindedly. For good measure, you pinch your cheek the same way Hu Tao used to do when she was still in charge – just to make sure you’re not dreaming.

But the baby is intent on helping you out with that when you feel it kick a bit too hard against your navel.

“Okay, point taken,” you mumble.

A year ago, you wouldn’t have pictured yourself carrying a human child – much more picturing yourself as a human. But you learned that time is kind to those who wait. It’s just as Zhongli said: regardless of everything that happened in the past, what’s important is what you do now in the present.

And to you, that’s all that matters.

★ MASTERLIST . AO3 ★

#genshin impact #genshin #zhongli smut #genshin smut #zhongli angst #zhongli x reader #genshin fanfiction #genshin fanfic #genshin headcanons #genshin scenarios #cryoculus

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