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dollfacefantasy · 1 month ago

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SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL ♡

pairing: homelander x fem!reader

summary: homelander has taken an interest in you, vought's new intern. no matter how you look at it, as a good or bad thing, it ends the same way: him getting what he wants.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dubcon, p in v, oral (m receiving), body worship, sir kink, obsessive behavior, manipulation/coercion, age gap (reader in early 20s)

wc: 7.7k (oops lol)

a/n: hehe. never thought i would write for this man but it was pretty fun :) comm for my sweet beloved @gor3-hound love you so very much mwah mwah <33

At the junction of the V-shaped table, Homelander sat. With his back to the skyline and his gloved hands folded in front of him, he held the posture of a statue. Ashley had been rambling on and on and fucking on for the past five minutes about shit he couldn't care less about. Her nasally voice bounced off the tile floors and painted ceiling, ricocheting around him like a rogue bullet. Only his impregnable skin didn't protect him from the discomfort of this situation.

It was moments like these that really made him regret killing Stillwell.

That woman knew how to handle things. As manipulative as she could be, at least she wasn't absolutely insufferable. How could Stan let Ashley replace her? She was a poor excuse of just about everything. Absolutely spineless, unintelligent, reactionary, and opportunistic. He really couldn't picture any person on this Earth genuinely liking her.

However in the midst of his mental complaints, he realized that the annoying sound of her speaking was directed at him. All the other stares in the room were zeroed in on him too. A-Train observed in cautious silence. Noir's goggles reflected Homelander's own image right back at him. Maeve judged with a sideways glance. And Starlight prepared for the worst.

He tore his own bright blue eyes from the door opposite the table and refocused them on Ashley. They scanned over her thinning ginger locks down to her gaudy outfit - a piss poor attempt at imitating power.

"What?" he asked, his voice cutting through the air with a force similar to one of Maeve's swords.

Ashley blinked in return. Fear swirled in her wide eyes. She tried to maintain that empowered appearance she so desperately wished was real, but he could see the innate urge to cower bubbling within her.

"Was that lineup for the funeral ok with you, Homelander? A-Train and Noir open, Starlight sings, and then you close?" she repeated.

Now it was his turn to blink. Like he could actually give a shit about the order of segments for Translucent's funeral. He swallowed hard. While she projected a mirage of power, he had to do the same with level-headedness.

"That's fine, Ashley. Have those two go first, and Starlight can follow up with Amazing Grace or whatever shitty hymns they teach in that hick town she's from, and then I can finish us out," he responded.

He could see how her knuckles were going white around the edge of her clipboard. She gripped it for comfort, as if that could save her from his potential wrath. It only irritated him more. If he wanted her dead, he would turn her to ashes where she stood. How hard she braced herself in advance wouldn't matter in the slightest. But people could be so foolish in moments of terror.

"Well speaking of that," she said before clearing her throat, an attempt at a natural transition, "We were trying to decide what song she would sing. Maybe one of our originals? Or do you think it would be more tasteful to go with something from an outside source?"

Gritting his teeth, he buried the urge to unleash the bright beams of red from his sockets. His hands slid off one another and pressed down onto the cool table.

"Do you really need me to decide what song is going to send Translucent to the grave?" he replied, "I don't care what you play, and no one else attending will either. They'll be focused on working up some tears for the useless dipshit they never had the displeasure of knowing. Instead of trying to gain their approval, we should be working on finding the next member of the Seven who can replace him. There's no use dwelling on the past. We need to be preparing for the future."

He paused to let his words permeate the room, giving everyone a chance to absorb the sentiment and adapt accordingly. With his pupils still trained on Ashley, he planned on continuing his tirade, but his train of thought came to an abrupt halt.

Soft pitter-patters of footsteps clacked down the hall outside this room. They sounded in a delicate rhythm, only audible to him. As they grew louder, he caught the scent of the source too. Airy and light. A stark contrast to the brash perfume Ashley doused herself in.

The doors at the front of the room slid apart to reveal you.

You stood there for a moment. The realization that you'd interrupted something was visible in your eyes. The small spheres cast down as you wobbled in like a fawn that sensed wolves watching from nearby.

Ashley turned to face you, a glower already set on her features. The resentment she held for everyone else in this building awoke from its usual dormant slumber because there was finally someone weaker she could take it out on.

Once you reached her, your hand rose and gave her a thin stack of papers.

"I'm sorry for interrupting. It's a memo from 82. They made it sound urgent," you explained, everything about your temperament meek and timid.

After a brief pause to let you marinate in the few moments before your inevitable humiliation, she snatched the papers from you. Her eyes roamed over the page with disinterest. Even if the information conveyed by the small black letters was important, he doubted she would give it any reaction. She wanted to lash out, and she was going to, whether it was justified or not.

"They couldn't have emailed me this?" she snapped, as if that was something you could control.

"I don't know. I'm sorry. I'll check next time," you offered.

"You better or you'll run out of next times," she threatened, "Incompetence like this won't fly here. You're in the big leagues now, so act like it. Think before you do something instead of taking commands like a lap dog."

"I'm sorry," you replied, ducking your head again.

"Don't be sorry, just do better," she commanded.

"I will," you agreed.

"Good. Just get out of here now. Go pick up my lunch," she told you.

His lips curled into a scowl as he watched the scene play out. It was pathetic - not you, but Ashley. He hated seeing the fucking smirk on her face as you walked away. She had nothing to be smug about. She was nothing more than a feral coyote going after the scraps the other predators didn't take.

To make matters worse, when she returned her attention to the group at the table, she saw the look on his face. She saw the disdain, but instead of striking regret into her, it only deepened her sense of self-satisfaction.

She thought the look was for you. That he was disgusted with your mistake. Annoyed with your intrusion.

He couldn't have that. Not when that assumption was the farthest thing from the truth. Honestly, he didn't know if he was even capable of feeling such ire towards you. Not his precious little fawn.

Rising from his seat, his glare remained on Ashley. She did show a little fear then.

"You know, I don't have all day, Ashley. I'll open Translucent's funeral, Starlight will follow up with a song, and that will be it. A-Train and Noir can have the day off, because let's be honest, nobody will give shit either way," he mocked.

"But, sir-" she said, clearly confused by his sudden impending departure.

"I have more important things to deal with. If you need anything else, I'm sure one of the others can help you," he dismissed.

With that, he stepped back from the table and began heading to the doors. He hoped if he was fast enough he could still catch you. Even in a building as sleek and modern as this one, the elevators could be quite slow.

Walking out into the hall, his head swiveled in the direction you would have gone. For once, his own portrait didn't catch his eye. He didn't even think about stopping by Stillwell's office to reminisce. Instead, he just headed down towards the elevator. His red boots thudded across smooth tile in rapid succession, covering the path you'd just taken.

Finally, after a few feet, he spotted you. Bottom lip pulled between your teeth. Eyes glossy with embarrassment. Tip of your polished shoe tapping against the ground. You startled when his voice boomed across the space, calling out your name. So cute.

You looked at him with fear in your eyes, but disgust didn't fester in the pit of his stomach like it did when others gave him that anxious stare. Another feeling bloomed inside him, one he couldn't really place. It was just that the nervous gleam over your pupils didn't make him hate himself and all the circumstances of his life that put him in his position.

Instead, your wide eyes and pouty lips made him feel strong. You made him feel like a hero. A real one, not the artificial caricature that Vought projected to the world. With you nearby, he felt like the kind of guy who deserved the American flag blowing off his back with a pretty girl cradled in his arms and a dead enemy at his feet. When you gazed up at him, he could only imagine that the pride rushing through his chest and confidence pooling between his hips was the feeling his creators intended for him.

"Did you need something from me, sir?" you asked, reminding him that he actually had to provide a reason to talk to you. Just wanting to stare at you like a psychopath would not suffice unfortunately.

"Oh no," he waved off, "The meeting just finished up. I was heading out too. I saw you, and I realized I haven't really taken the time to get to know you yet, which is unfortunate because I usually like to be familiar with the newer people we have working with us."

A complete lie. Before you, he didn't remember ever giving any of the interns a second glance. They were true nuisances. They were Ashleys.

"Oh... well I'm around whenever you wanna talk. Ashley keeps me busy, but I'm sure I could make an exception for you," you replied.

"You absolutely can make an exception for me," he chuckled, "If Ashley gives you any trouble, just let me know, and I'll make sure she remembers who's really in charge around here."

It wasn't until he heard your heart rate increase that he realized those words probably came off as threatening. Well, they were threatening, but you weren't supposed to see him that way.

"I'm kidding," he forced out with a laugh, "Just joking around like I do... I just don't want you to worry about getting in some kind of trouble for me sniffing around you."

You huffed out an awkward laugh of your own and nodded. "I'll be sure to make some time for you in the future then and let Ashley know it was at your direction."

"Great," he said with probably too much enthusiasm.

His jaw clenched into one of his usual tight smiles. He averted his eyes from you and looked towards the numbers on the elevator. Fuck, it was reaching the bottom. He didn't want to let you go, but it wasn't like he could just stroll down the street with you to go get Ashley's lunch. His mind scrambled to come up with a solution.

But like your earlier intrusion into the meeting, your gentle voice cuts through the hurricane forming in his head.

"Are you alright, sir?" you ask, anxious concern written all over your features.

He refocused on you and nodded. His arm extended out behind you, his palm landing against the elevator wall. As he leaned in, he could smell your adrenaline spiking. He could hear the shift of your shoe against the ground. If only he possessed a sixth sense for the mind, so he could know what little thoughts about him were flitting through your head.

"I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me," he answered. He smiled down at you, observing the slight nod you gave him in return.

"Of course not. It probably seems silly coming from me," you said.

His brows raised in amusement. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

He saw the flash of regret in your eyes. The one people always gave him when he asked a question in that tone. The one that came from the panic of realizing they may have said something that offended Homelander.

You suppressed it pretty well though and brought out a smile that gave the impression that you hoped he was messing with you instead.

"Well you know... because you're you," you said and tilted your head in an innocent way that made his chest ache.

He chuckled that charming, prepackaged laugh that had been trained into him. "Even I can appreciate someone taking an interest in checking on me," he replied.

It was maddening, how bad he wanted you. He wasn't even sure when this craving had sprouted inside him. He had been so preoccupied with his affinity for Stillwell that his fixation with you struck him like a glass window in front of a flying bird. But no matter the timeframe in which it blossomed, it had taken root by now and wasn't going to go away on its own.

When he looked at you like this - staring up at him with earnest fascination - his mind drifted to darker places all on its own. He couldn't stop it if he wanted to (and really, he didn't want to). It's just how was he not supposed to be aware of the fact that it would be all too easy to take you back to his room? How could he not think about what it would feel like to have your fragile body beneath his own in private? How could he not wonder what you'd sound like crying out in a sinful mix of pleasure and pain?

Hell, how was he supposed to pretend like he couldn't just bend you over and fuck you dumb right here in the middle of this elevator if he wanted to? No one would be able to stop him. There wouldn't be a thing they could do other than watch. They could stare in horror as he used you like he deserved, as he pounded into your warm, soft, dripping hole like he needed...

Unfortunately, painting that picture in his head had his blood rushing South. He felt the subtle simmer of desire in his pelvis, and he knew in no time his length would be filling out. This suit gave him no way of hiding it either. Clearly, whoever made it hadn't anticipated the Homelander popping a boner on the job.

But luckily for him, the elevator chimed with its arrival at the bottom floor. He straightened out as you looked ahead in preparation of your departure. But before you could go, he grabbed your arm. His touch was tender, holding the same force he'd use when cradling a baby at a photo-op.

"Maybe later tonight you'd like to take me up on one of those talks? After you're done for the day, you could stop by my place. The sooner the better, right?" he asked.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, but you still nodded. "Um... sure thing. I'll head up once I've finished all my work. It should be around six if that's ok?" you offered.

"Yeah, that works for me. I'll be waiting," he said in an attempt to be playful.

You smiled once more and then headed out of the elevator. His fingertips dragged down your arm to your wrist as you walked away before you finally slipped from his grasp. He could hear your heart pounding faster than your footsteps as you headed towards the exit of the building.

At six o'clock sharp, a knock sounded through his penthouse. And it only took him a few seconds to swing the door open and greet you.

"There she is," he beamed with exaggerated politeness.

You smiled modestly in return, shrugging and smoothing out a crease in your blouse. "I couldn't let the leader of the seven down," you joked.

He scoffed but opened the door wider, beckoning you into his place. You took the invitation and crossed the threshold. Your eyes glanced around the place, taking note of all the things in the apartment that housed the most powerful man on Earth.

The American flag taking up an entire wall almost stopped you in your tracks. It would've been funny if it was someone else, but because it belonged to him, it stood there like a warning. You tried not to show how daunting you found it. Average people could be touchy about that famous piece of cloth. You didn't want to find out if the strongest supe felt the same through means of offending him.

In place of letting that bother you, you shifted your attention over to all the historical pictures hanging on the walls and the sleek surfaces and drawers filled with things you couldn't begin to imagine. Your eyes casted over the statues accenting the space as well. It was all so very polished. It looked like what you'd expect the Homelander entry in an Ikea catalog to be.

"So what do you think?" he asked. He knew his words came off as stiff. Probably a little stilted sounding. He just couldn't help it. For the first time, he couldn't get a read on how you felt through physical signs alone. And right now, he really really wanted you to like him.

"It's... impressive," you answered.

But he could hear the hesitation in your voice. In each word, there was the same wavering quality to it that you get when Ashley grilled you in front of an audience. It wasn't the precious reverence that he saw in the elevator. The nervous kind of admiration you held for someone above your standing. This was just plain anxiety, and that served no purpose to him.

Despite your trepidation however, you walked forward to the window at the back of the place. You looked out over the city in awe.

"I would love to live somewhere high up like this," you said.

He came up from behind to stand next to you in front of the glass panes. His eyes landed on your face. You stared out the window, wonder twinkling in your eyes. Your voice sounded almost breathless. It was adorable.

"No fear of heights?" he asked.

"Not when it comes to being inside. Maybe I'd be nervous if we were on a balcony or something," you replied.

"Oh come on. You'd have nothing to worry about if you were with me. I'd never let you fall," he said, dropping his voice a few octaves.

You made that cute little face again when those words hit your ears. Your eyes widened before they fell to look at your shoes. So modest, the way you shied away. He wondered if you were always so timid or if it was only when a god amongst men like himself flirted with you.

He chuckled and reached out, tilting your chin back up to look at him. "You don't need to be nervous," he soothed, "There's no safer place to be than with the Homelander, right?"

You nodded right along. His words left no room for objection.

"Good girl," he smirked and dragged a gloved thumb over your cheek. He pulled his hand back and stepped in the direction of the brown leather sectional that sat in the middle of the room.

"Come over here and sit down. We can talk," he directed.

Following him to the large couch, you took your seat near the corner. You assumed he'd sit at the other end or at least towards the middle of the perpendicular cushions, but no. He sat down in the corner with you. His body was at most a foot away.

He continued to smile at you though he didn't speak. It felt odd, sitting there in silence across from him. He wasn't doing anything overtly threatening, yet you still felt at his mercy.

"So, do you like it here so far? Do you feel like you're fitting into the Vought family?" he asked with a bit of an edge to that second word.

You nodded again. A relieved breath seeped from your lungs as the tense void in conversation came to an end. "Yeah, it's nice here. I feel like I'm learning a lot."

He chuckled and leaned back against the stiff backing of the sofa. His muscular arm draped along the top. Though it wasn't his intention to draw your focus there, he caught the way your eyes dragged over his bicep.

"That's good," he said, "It can be a lot when you're new. I wouldn't want you feeling overwhelmed."

"That's nice of you. I appreciate it, but I'm used to a busy schedule," you replied.

"You're freshly graduated, aren't you?" he checked.

"Yeah," you said, your lips quirking upwards at his guess.

"I thought so. You have that cute, wide-eyed, optimistic thing going for you."

A small laugh leaves your lips. "I know. Ashley said I'll grow out of it by the end of this quarter."

His face dropped, and he almost abandoned the prince charming act he was attempting to pull off for you. The mere mention of Ashley was enough to irk him, but the thought that she was trying to change you? Not only change you but jade you. To strip away the soft and sweet qualities that hooked him on you in the first place. It was criminal. He couldn't hide his disdain.

"You shouldn't listen to her," he said. He wasn't angry, but his cadence held intensity. "Ashley's problem is Ashley. To be honest, I don't even know why they gave her an intern. It's not like she'd be good at teaching anything when she still doesn't understand most things about our business herself."

Your fingers dug into the edge of your seat. It wouldn't have been significant in a normal conversation, but when speaking with a man who could hear a pin drop forty stories down, he noticed.

"You're still nervous," he observed.

In an instant, your hands flew to your lap, like you knew what gave your anxiety away. You fidgeted with the hem of your skirt and shrugged.

"A little," you admitted.

"Are you scared of me?" he asked.

You shook your head without even thinking about the question.

"No, it's not that. I swear," you reassured, "It's just that this is a big deal for me. I'm really honored you want to get to know me, and I just want to make a good impression."

"You don't need to worry about that. I wouldn't have invited you here if I didn't have a good impression of you," he said.

You sighed slightly, letting out a bit of tension, but he could still smell that boosted cortisol running through your blood.

"Come here," he ordered, his voice soft but undeniably firm.

"What?" you asked.

A puff of amused air blew from his nostrils. "Come here," he repeated, "Sit closer."

As if you needed the guidance, he patted the space directly beside his hip. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes even after the gesture. The lack of understanding toward his reasoning persisted. Regardless of your skepticism however, you scooted in his direction and ended up where he wanted you.

"That's better," he said.

With careful fingers, he slipped the glove off his right hand. Your eyes locked on it in subtle awe. You'd seen this man on billboards and commercials for years. His face dominated newscasts. His voice broadcast over the radio on a weekly basis. Still, you had never seen such a human part of him. Five fingers and a palm reaching for your own.

They clasped around your hand. His skin was smooth. The gloves preserved them from any marks of experience.

"Did Ashley warn you about me?" he asked, drawing your eyes back to his own.

Your heart thundered, but you couldn't lie. Never had Vought bragged about Homelander being a human lie detector, but in this moment, you felt like that was the case.

"Yes," you responded.

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "You didn't believe her, did you?" he asked.

You could tell he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear it.

"Yes," you whispered again.

"What did she tell you?"

It was hard to remember that conversation you'd had a few weeks ago with Ashley. Feeling like you were two seconds away from having lasers beamed through your skull made minute details fuzzy and distant, but you manage to choke a few out anyways.

"She said that you have a very specific vision for the Seven, and that you'll do anything to make your dreams reality. She was just saying you're ambitious. That you care about the greater good," you summarized.

"I have a feeling you're saying it a lot nicer than she did," he teased. He could feel the fear rolling off of you in waves, and in a moment, he would rectify that. But for right now, he didn't mind letting his precious little fawn tremble in terror for a few moments more.

"Yeah, she can be kind of blunt," you said with a shaky laugh.

"That's one word for it," he said.

"She's not gonna get in trouble because of what I said, is she?" you asked.

He couldn't help laughing at that. The sound came out low and throaty. You were just so fucking pure. Worried about protecting someone who wouldn't hesitate for a second to sell you out if it meant she could climb up another rung on the corporate ladder.

His exposed thumb rubbed back and forth over your knuckles. "No. Of course not. We're just talking," he said.

He leaned in closer to you, positioning his mouth in close proximity to your ear. His free hand came up to cup your jaw.

"I appreciate your honesty though. Ashley probably couldn't tell you this, but I appreciate a loyal girl like you," he murmured.

On both your hand and through his glove in contact with your chin, he could feel your skin heat up.

"Oh... thank you, sir," you said.

He chuckled. His fingers squished into the flesh of your cheeks, making your lips puff out as though they were seeking a kiss.

"So polite, but I like that. We need more people here who understand their place," he said.

At this point, the gravity of your circumstances began to settle on you. Your fear had worn off a bit, and you realized what a compromising position he had you in. With one tight squeeze, he could crush every bone in your face.

Out of instinct, you tried pulling back a little. You didn't make it obvious, only attempting to gain a few inches of space.

That was a few inches too many though. He tightened his grip and kept you where he wanted you.

"Ah ah," he tutted, "How many times do I have to tell you that you don't need to be scared? I'm not going to hurt you."

You dropped the resistance right then and there. It wasn't worth pursuing. If he didn't want you getting away, you weren't getting away.

He took a few more seconds to study your face, taking in every minutiae of your expressions. Then, his hands dropped to your waist, and he pulled you into his lap. His thighs were firm against your ass, both rigid in how he carried himself and defined from the pure muscle that made them up.

His hands smoothed up and down your sides, coasting over each crease in your blouse. He massaged your soft tissue with gentle squeezes from the beginning of your bra down to the swell of your hips.

"God, you're beautiful," he muttered, "You fit here like you were made for me."

You vibrated in his grasp. He could feel the way you quivered with the urge to pull away.

"Thank you, s-sir," you stammered, "I really appreciate it but-"

"But nothing," he cut you off.

"But I don't think we should be... doing this," you tried to continue anyway.

"Why not?" he asked. Though his tone made it obvious that no matter what reason you provided, it wouldn't change his mind.

"Because you're like my boss, y'know? And I worked really hard to get my spot here, and I don't want people thinking I slept my way to where I am," you explained, "You're really nice, and I admire you a lot, but it wouldn't be right."

He didn't respond immediately. He paused and let your words hang in the air for a few moments.

"You know," he finally spoke, "I don't think you understand how things work around here. It doesn't matter what anyone else in this building thinks. Only me."

You blinked at him, unsure of how to respond to such an assertion. It didn't matter though. He continued without your input.

"What I do with you, how I feel about you - no one else will know about it unless you tell them. But even if you do and even if they care, there isn't a thing they'll do about it. There's not a thing they can do about it," he continued.

"I still don't think it's a good idea," you maintained.

"Good thing this isn't for you to think about then," he mocked, "You're a fast learner. You'll figure it out soon enough. I am God in this tower. And a god doesn't listen to his subjects. He guides them. He knows best."

One of his hands slid up your tummy and over your chest onto your throat. He cupped your jaw and swiped his thumb back and forth across your bottom lip.

"What did Ashley tell you about me?" he asked.

"That no one gets in your way."

"Good. And she was right. No one gets in my way. Nothing stops me from getting what I want. And I've wanted you for too fucking long not to try you out."

That set of fingers on your chin pulled your face towards his and brought you into a kiss. You froze against his lips. It felt as though all of time stopped. This high up, you couldn't hear the sounds of the city outside the penthouse. No one existed in this moment but you and him.

Unlike you, he melted into the exchange. He sighed against your skin and pulled you flush against his toned body. After a second to let you come to terms with what was happening, he kissed you again. His lips sucked on yours gently, attempting to coax you into returning the affection.

The most he got is you puckering them up ever so slightly.

He pulled away with frustration in his eyes and grabbed your face, jerking you a little to look at him.

"Don't act like you don't want this. I know you do," he said, "You're scared, but you don't need to be. Relax and let yourself enjoy this. It's not everyday that the most powerful man on earth wants to fuck you."

Your eyes blew up like little saucers, but before you could really process the directness of what he'd said, he was kissing you again. This time it wasn't as nerve wracking. You softened up a little and kissed back.

You didn't put much effort into it. Your lips responded like this was a juvenile first date. But he didn't let up. He didn't let you give him anything less than your best. His hands roamed across your body. They groped and fondled your breasts and then migrated South to feel up your ass through your pencil skirt.

Your muscles started to loosen up after a minute or so. You told yourself this wasn't so bad. He was being gentle so far, and for someone with his abilities, you wanted it to stay that way. You brought your hand up to his face and cupped his cheek. With that as leverage, you deepened the kiss.

He groaned as soon as you started to give in. His hands fell to your hips and tugged you so that you were straddling him. He smacked your ass, the sound echoing around his apartment. You could tell he held back. A real spank from Homelander could shatter your hip, but this one barely even stung. Maybe he did like you.

His fingers came up and with a sharp tug, he popped the front of your top loose. The column of buttons sprung free. The strips of cloth fell away to each of your sides, exposing a sliver of your skin. He furthered it by pulling off the garment entirely. His eyes trailed along your bare shoulders to your collar bone before finally landing on your breasts. He gave them a firm squeeze, kneading them through the barrier of your bra.

Meanwhile you rolled your hips down on his lap. Immediately, you felt his bulge that had risen to attention between your thighs. You did it again and then again. Each time you ground yourself against him with more pressure.

He grunted, and his eyes fluttered. His hands returned to your waist and gripped you hard, guiding your movements. He seemed transfixed for a few moments, as if he couldn't decide his next move.

After a few seconds though, he got his momentum back. He yanked you off his lap and flipped over so that you were seated on the couch again.

He rose to his feet before you. There your eyes scanned over his body from his tousled blond hair and his kiss-swollen red lips to his sculpted abdomen and his swelling erection. You reached out to touch him, but he stopped your hand mid-air.

Once your arm was limp on the couch again, he removed his other glove. He dropped it to the floor before bringing his right boot to the spot on the sofa next to you. He unzipped the red shoe and then discarded it like he had with the other item. The other boot followed the same routine.

"I don't let just anyone see me like this," he told you as his fingers began to undo his collar, "You should feel lucky."

Lucky wasn't the word you would use to describe your feelings in this situation. Maybe special. Or distinct. Individual. Either way, you continued to watch. Your eyes glided over his figure as he pulled away the tight blue costume that seemed like a second-skin for how much he wore it.

His defined chest came into view. Your reluctance hadn't vanished all together just yet, but at this point, it was fading fast. Pale hair dusted the muscular expanse and trailed down his stomach to the waistband of the bottoms. The waistband he soon hooked his fingers over and peeled down.

He dropped the scaled navy fabric to the ground before kicking it away, leaving himself in just a small pair of boxers. His hand came down and rubbed the swollen tent at the front while his eyes lingered on you.

"Do you want to touch?" he asked.

You nodded. It wasn't a hard decision. This was still a bad idea. You hadn't changed your mind on that. But at this point, what else was there to do? Defying Homelander wasn't an option for anyone on this planet ever. You were no different.

"Ask," he commanded.

"Please can I touch you?" you said.

"Please what?"

"Please, sir. Can I touch you?"

"Good girl," he praised before nodding, "Go for it."

You reached out, this time successfully. Your palm landed flat on his stomach. You held it there for a moment, just feeling his skin. In a way, it was unreal. To feel that someone propped up on the world's pedestal was flesh and blood like you.

Rubbing up and down, you continued getting a feel for his body. He smirked at your wonder before guiding you up by the elbow.

"Stand up and do it right," he said.

"Sorry."

The word came from your mouth automatically. You brought your other hand up to his chest and felt the muscles in his chest. Everything was so built. You expected that, but it was still odd to feel beneath your fingertips. He felt like a living ken doll. You almost didn't believe if he dropped his boxers there would be a real cock there.

Your hands traced up to his shoulders with precision. They explored down his biceps and forearms. And then finally, you brought your lips into his chest. He sighed and tilted his head back, relishing the feeling.

You kissed all over, swirling your tongue and tracing shapes onto his skin. It was almost entrancing, to be so focused on someone like this. You barely noticed as he turned the two of you and sat himself down on the couch, lowering you to your knees.

You worked your mouth down his abs, licking and kissing the twitching muscles. Your fingernails scraped up his sides and then down onto his thighs. When your lips reached the waistband of his boxers, your eyes glanced up at him.

"Can I take them off, sir?" you asked.

He smirked at the title. Only one word of correction and he'd trained that phrase into you.

"Yes," he answered. It was a simple answer. All that was required for someone so naturally obedient.

You took it in stride, tucking your fingers over the elastic and tearing them down. His hard cock popped up and slapped against his pelvis. You couldn't have been happier about your earlier ken doll theory being proven wrong. The sight of his dick was enough to make you drool. It was better than any work of art out there.

It rested against his body at the perfect length, the perfect girth. The tip flushed beautiful red and pearly white beads of precum smeared at the top. Your fingers wrapped around it and gave it a few strokes, testing the waters.

His hand came down and petted your head. He watched as you studied the appendage, as you experimented with your own touch. It was so fucking cute he thought he might cum right then and there. Fuck, he thought you were sweet every moment he had eyes on you, but right now, you were darling. You were doing as he said. Accepting your place at the feet of a superior being.

"Put it in your mouth," he said from above, "I want you to taste it."

There was no hesitation on your end this time around.

"Yes sir," you responded before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around his cock.

He groaned and let his chest hollow out with a harsh exhale. Your mouth was so warm and wet, nice and snug around his length. He rocked his hips up, pushing it further into your throat. He expected a small gag or sputter, but instead you moaned. You shut your eyes and flattened your tongue against his shaft before beginning to bob your head.

"Fuck," he hissed. His legs tensed up, and he pressed down on your head. That did get a tiny gag out of you. You gripped his hips to stabilize yourself though and stayed in place. Your nose nestled against the darker curls of hair that sat at the base of his cock.

Spit leaked from your mouth and dribbled onto his skin below. He took a few moments to just enjoy the feeling of his dick down your throat. The sight of his sweet, innocent girl choking on his cock. Then he let you pull off and catch your breath.

You took a few deep puffs, letting the spots clear from your vision before you dove back in for more. Your hand stroked the lower part of him your mouth didn't cover in its shallow sucks while your other set of fingers caressed his balls tenderly.

He'd never experienced devotion. As much as it pained him to ever acknowledge, his sexual experiences had been lackluster up until now. There were the times with Maeve, but they always left something to be desired for him. Then there was the time with Stillwell that ended before it really started. In either case, no one had ever put all of themselves into pleasuring him like you were doing right now. It drove him wild. He could feel his sac tightening up, and he knew he had to get you off.

Planting one hand on each side of your head, he tugged you back. You looked up at him with glossy, cock-drunk eyes and saliva-coated lips. He swiped some of the mess away before addressing you.

"You're doing so good for me, but I think you're ready for more, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," you agreed.

"My perfect pet," he crooned and pulled you up onto the couch.

He laid you flat on your back and ripped your skirt and panties off in one go. His eyes drank in the sight of your nude lower half, but he didn't spend much time savoring it. He spread you out, slotting himself against your center.

With a few rocks of his hips, he dragged his length through your wetness. He let the sticky fluid coat his shaft, and then he sunk in. His tip bullied its way into your entrance and the rest of him followed. You whined at the stretch. Your walls clamped around him, eager to accept the intrusion.

"Atta girl," he grunted as he worked himself all the way in.

His hips connected with your ass, but he still bucked them, trying to get more. You yelped at the force. He was already buried inside you. Anymore and his tip would be nudging the entrance to your womb.

Fortunately for you, he pulled his hips back, giving you a short break from feeling so full. It was short lived though. Seconds later he snapped back in. That began the quick rhythm he set into. It was desperate and needy, emotions he'd tried to hide until this point.

You whimpered as your body bobbed with the momentum. His thrusts bounced you back and forth. The sounds of his body smacking against yours filled the room. His fingers dug into your waist hard enough to bruise. You didn't complain about the minor pain though because you could tell he was holding back in every other regard. If a few marks on your side kept you from being pulverized by a super cock, then that was a burden you were willing to carry.

Above you, he starts to pant. His breaths leave him raggedly huffing, sucking down what oxygen he can get in the midst of rutting into you. He tilts his head down at you and gazes at your blissed out face with lidded eyes.

"I could have anyone. Any person on this Earth would be mine if I wanted them to be. But the only one I want is you. Doesn't that feel good?" he breathed.

"Yes!" you cried out. Your back arched up off the couch. "Feels so fucking good, sir."

He leaned into you more, squishing your body into the surface below. Your thighs pressed against your tummy as he bent you.

"Yeah, it does," he grunted, "It's all there is. It's all you need to think about. How you're all mine."

"Mhm," you whined with a lazy nod. You were getting closer to cumming and responding to his words was taking a lower priority in your mind.

"And to think you tried to deny yourself of it," he mocked. He clenched his jaw and slammed into you harder.

You shrieked and clutched his shoulders. In the back of your mind, you hoped his penthouse was sound proofed or at least enough distance from the nearest one. Otherwise you wouldn't have to tell anyone about this incident for it to spread throughout the tower.

"I knew better, didn't I? I knew this is what you needed," he said.

Again, you nodded. You felt the heat in your belly reaching the boiling point.

"Say it," he huffed.

You tried to force it out, but your own hiccuped sob of pleasure cut you off. He didn't give you a break though. He stared down at you with expectation, so you continued.

"You know best- uh, fuck- you know best, sir," you whined.

"Good fucking girl," he growled on top of you.

He was already close from the blowjob you'd given him. Only a few strokes more, and he was ready to explode. He swiveled his hips, angling them upwards to pound into that special spot that would make you see stars and stripes.

You mewled when you came. Your body trembled harder than it did when you were scared. Arousal gushed out of you and coated his skin. He huffed and buried his face in your neck before letting go.

Everything faded into the background as you laid underneath him in the haze that came after the absolute high of pleasure. Now you could feel his heartbeat too. The organ thundered against his chest over and over as he came down.

Minutes later he pulled back. His knuckles caressed down your jawline before he climbed off of you entirely. He sat back on the couch and let out a deep breath. You weren't sure whether you were supposed to pick up your stuff and leave or follow along with him and stay close to his side. There was no real indication of what he wanted in this moment, but he turned to smile at you and huffed out a laugh.

"I think I'll keep you with me more often now. Really show you the ropes of fitting in around here."

You sat up and nodded awkwardly. He leaned toward you, cupping your cheek.

"I'll be a much better teacher than Ashley ever was," he said. His arm snaked around you and pulled you to his chest again. "No more errands or coffee runs. I'll show you things you need. Things that you'll enjoy."

He ran his fingers over your face and kissed your temple. The touches were tender against your skin. They would have been romantic if your mind wasn't racing with what this all meant in terms of your job and the grand scheme of your future.

Looking at him though, he wasn't worried at all. He smiled down at you before whispering once more.

"My sweet little pet. All mine now."

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander x y/n #homelander smut #the boys x you #the boys x reader #the boys smut #ch: homelander 💌

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ph4ngz · 2 years ago

Text

HOW THEY FUCK YOU || BLUE LOCK

w/ isagi, chigiri, bachira, rin and sae :D reo, nagi and kunigami version here <3

Isagi Yoichi fucks you with ultimate passion. He loves to see his best and beautiful girl bouncing up and down each time he forces his hard cock inside of your— no, his perfect pussy. With his forearms resting beside your head, he'll murmur sweet nothings into your open mouth as he shakes his head so that your noses touch a few times. "Let it all go..." he'll grant you a long, fiery kiss when you're about to cum just to hear and watch you gasp for air as he thumbs your pulsing clit, "you're so gorgeous when you cum on my cock, such a pretty girl". Most of the time, Isagi won't let himself cum until you're incapable of moaning anything but his name and his name only.

"C'mon baby, moan my name. Hell, fuckin' scream it if you want to. F-Fuck!" he'll pry it out of you, he always does. It's not like you can help it when he's making you feel so good, its the only name you'll ever be thinking of no matter what situation you're in.

Chigiri Hyoma fucks you with unrivalled speed. He never fails to leave you unable to form a coherent sentence, your brain turning to mush throughout your fuck sessions every single time. "Hngh, what a view," he'll moan and kiss one of your calves laid upon his shoulders whilst drilling into your sopping cunt, having your asscheeks propped up on his knees so his arms can wrap around your limp thighs. Whenever you're trying to speak, Chigiri will change pace to fuck you faster. He can't get enough of your futile attempts at speaking, revelling in the cute, long-winded whimpers that jump along with his thrusts.

"Fuuuuck... a-almost too fast for this pretty pussy to handle..." he'll stutter, leaning his warm forehead into your raised leg before the soft walls gripping at his dick begin to constrict again, opening his clenched eyes to witness you cum without warning. "One more time, atta girl. Don't pass out on me, dumbass."

Bachira Meguru fucks you with eager fascination. There's no such thing as a boring sex life with him around. Your noises and expressions are what he thrives off of, so you can forget trying to keep anything from him as he will, without a doubt, succeed in getting the reaction he wants from you. He loves getting you all embarrassed with his unpredictable antics, like the times when he'll land a swift slap upon your swollen clit right after caressing you so gently. "Mmph!" he'll bite his lip playfully at the sharp impact and grin sinfully at your bowed brows, "my, myyyy~ you liked that, didn't you?".

Bachira will treat sex like a damn guessing game, you don't understand why though, seeing as he knows you like the back of his hand. Maybe it's to show you how amazing he is in bed without sounding so egotistical. "Are you going to cum? No? A-Agh, how about now? Just kidding. Cum all over me..." he'll joke whilst relentlessly slamming his hips against your ass, observing your body jolt uncontrollably in his lap. "That's it, that's my slutty little monster."

Itoshi Rin fucks you with intense craving. He's utterly obsessed with you. You're the one segment of his life that big brother Sae cannot touch, and he likes to keep it that way. He'll never get over the sensation of security your tight, wet pussy brings forth, his loud sighs and possessive gripping at your thighs giving him away every time. Everything about your existence stokes a desire within him, making him crave that particular, heart-melting expression that Sae could never achieve. "Huh, huh..." he'll pant into your neck whilst ruthlessly humping you against the wall, "only I can make you feel like this, only me...". He'll have your entire body quivering, convulsing under his expert touch in seconds, and its when you do reach your high that he pays more attention than he would during a fucking soccer match.

Rin would rather die than not be able to see you cum for him. For him to be content, he has to etch the memory into his brain. "Good girl, good girl," he'll lovingly caress your contorting face and angle his hips perfectly, "I want you to cum s-so hard for me, so hard for me that you forget your own name." Sometimes the rewarding sight ends up being too much for his poor heart to take in, ropes of white releasing inside of you unexpectedly.

Itoshi Sae fucks you with utmost confidence. He knows damn well that nobody can have the control that he has over you. You'd do anything for him. "Now, bend over and fucking take it for me." he'll demand whilst tapping his bare cock upon your asscheek, not a single worry about your obedience faltering because... its him, of course you'll obey. When he fucks you from behind, he loves to gently grab you by the neck and pull your back into his chest. He'll praise you for your best behaviour, heavy balls thumping against your clit with his brutal thrusting. "Like a fucking champion..." with a hand brushing stray hairs away from your heated face.

Out of all the trophies he's racked up over the past, you're by far his most treasured. Sae is reminded of this once he sees your plumped lips open in a silent scream, spongy walls vice-like around his length as your release hits you like a brick. "There you go, cream on my fat cock." he'll groan into your sensitive ear, the hand around your neck coiling tighter like a deadly constricter snake.

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#blue lock smut #blue lock #isagi yoichi #isagi smut #bachira meguru #bachira smut #rin itoshi #itoshi rin #bllk smut #chigiri smut #chigiri hyoma #itoshi sae #itoshi sae smut

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writeyouin · 3 months ago

Note

Oo I got something for TFO

If possible would you be open to doing a human s/o with D-16? Like the human came from another planet that was destroyed and they got stranded on Cybertron and somehow managed to end up in Iacon city?

D-16 (Megatron) x Reader – The Creature From Another World - Part 1 of 2

A/N – This is so much longer than I thought it would be. I think it may be the most fun, silly fic I’ve ever written and I am so happy that I got to write it. Also, SPOILERS FOR THE END OF THE TRANSFORMERS ONE MOVIE IN THE FINAL SEGMENT!

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

It was all Orion’s fault. Everything that was likely to get D-16 in trouble was his fault. It was always, ‘Hey, what if we searched the tunnels for something even more valuable than energon?’ Or ‘You want to come into the archives with me? Of course, I have a permit. It’s not like I would try breaking in… again.’

This time, the line that was sure to get D-16 into trouble was, “Hey bud, don’t tell anyone but I got us a pet!”

D-16 rubbed his helm exasperatedly, “A pet, Pax! Why can’t you just obey the rules for once.”

“Hey, there are no rules against keeping pets,” Orion said excitedly, heading over to his locker to retrieve the creature in question.

“Of course there aren’t! Because no one would be stupid enough to keep one!”

“You just haven’t seen it yet. It’s really cute.”

“I hope your spark eater tears off your face, Pax. I really do,” D-16 deadpanned.

“Not a spark eater,” Orion chuckled, then he began whispering into his locker, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt ya, little cutie. That’s it, settle down now.”

D-16 shook his head, “You’re gonna get demoted all the way down to the 40th sub-level and when you do, I’m not gonna save your sorry aft. Besides Pax, there isn’t enough energon to go around as is. How’re you gonna feed a pet?”

“That’s the thing,” Orion said eagerly. “It doesn’t fuel up on energon.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. What kind of thing doesn’t need energon?” D-16 asked, his curiosity finally getting the better of him as he tried to peek over Orion’s shoulder at the so-called ‘pet’ he was trying to grab.

He heard some scrabbling, Orion said some more soothing words and then Orion turned around, holding a creature half his size around the waist in both servos.

“D-16, meet our new pet, Minitronus.”

“Minitronus!” D-16 said excitedly. He knew Orion had only picked the name to foster his attachment and ensure that he kept the creature a secret.

D-16 got close to Orion’s pet, resting his hands on his thighs as he bent down. “Whoa, what is it?”

“C’mon D-16. If you don’t know, I’m not gonna tell you.”

“You have no idea, do you.”

“Not a one.”

The creature chittered angrily, pushing at Orion’s servos.

“It looks angry,” D-16 observed.

“It’s just getting used to us. That’s all.”

Orion began stroking at the creature’s head.

“Okay Pax,” D-16 said, resigning himself to Orion’s crazy new pet, as he knew he would from the start. “C’mon then. Tell me all about it. What does it eat? Where’d you find it? And most importantly, how’re we going to keep it a secret?”

“Hey! I said HEY! YOU UP THERE! STOP PETTING ME! I’M NOT AN ANIMAL, YOU BIG DUMB IDIOT!”

The giant metal man smiled at you affectionately, opening his mouth to say something you couldn’t understand. It all sounded like scraping metal and electrical noises and you couldn’t make sense of any of it.

Ever since the Quintessons had abducted you, your life had been nothing but trouble. You were their prisoner but when they found out your planet had nothing of worth, they decided it would be better to experiment on you. The only consolation was that you could at least understand the Quintessons, who had multiple translator devices on their ship.

You were very fortunate that the Quintessons didn’t view you as a threat since they didn’t bother keeping you in any kind of high-security prison and so you managed to escape before they did anything too terrible. The worst you suffered were a few zaps from a weak cattle prod, probably testing your nervous system.

Yet, having escaped the Quintesson ship, you had landed yourself into deeper trouble. You had found yourself on a living metal planet, and though a few plants grew on the ever-transforming surface, the pocket computer you had stolen from your captors informed you they were poisonous.

Fortunately, you had thought a few things through regarding your escape. You had managed to grab a backpack, stuffing it full of provisions and interesting gadgets. The food was stored in dehydrated cubes so with proper care, it could last you months, maybe even an entire year. The backpack also contained a device to keep you warm, a cube that turned into a forcefield when thrown to the ground, and most importantly one of the translators that had allowed you to understand the Quintessons along with a few other gadgets.

However, despite your planning, things hadn’t gone very well for you. After touching down on the planet, you boarded a train that you hoped would take you to civilisation, and while it did take you to a city underground that was more beautiful and advanced than you could imagine, it was clear that the alien life-forms there had never seen an organic creature before.

The few you tried to talk to initially screamed as if you were vermin and tried to blast, stab, and crush you in succession. As you scrambled for your life, you took a kick to the back, saved by your pack which had broken your much-needed translator.

You ran and hid, keeping out of sight and soon you started feeling like the vermin the metal people viewed you as. You learned quickly to keep out of sight and made your way to where there were fewer bots, spending many quiet hours either sleeping in vents or trying to repair your translator with the limited knowledge you had.

Yet, your luck couldn’t last forever and eventually, you ran into a vent that turned out to be a transportation tunnel to and from the mines. It was there that Mr Big-Red-Idiot-Bot caught you and took you to the charging bays. At first, you thought your luck was turning around and that he was going to take you to someone who would be able to understand you since he was obviously trying to be gentle with you. Then it became clear that he just thought you were some kind of stupid animal in need of care and he adopted you as his pet.

“What are these things?” D-16 asked, gently lifting your top.

You slapped at his servo, swearing at him even though he couldn’t understand you. Orion laughed, “I don’t know, but that’s how it reacted to me too. I think they’re to keep it warm. Either way, it doesn’t like it when you touch them. Oh, and hey, check this out, it does tricks.”

Orion shoved you back into his locker where your bag was. You ran to your pack, hurriedly grabbing your broken translator and showing it to the new grey bot. You had tried repeatedly showing it to Big Red, but he didn’t get what you were trying to do and always just laughed at you.

“What’s it holding?” D-16 asked.

“Playing with some scrap metal. Isn’t that cute? It has a favourite toy! I think Minitronus might have belonged to someone else once because it has all these adorable toys in there and it can make its own fuel.”

You sighed. Clearly, the grey bot was no better than Big Red, but at least he wasn’t trying to kill you. You shook your head and began searching your pack for some tools to repair the translator. Upon seeing you grab a screwdriver, Orion took it from you.

You yelled a few more insults, demanding it back but Orion just teased you, holding it just out of reach.

“Aww does Minitronus want the toy? Do you? Do you? That’s it, reach for the toy. Grab it.” He cooed.

D-16 rolled his eyes, amused by both Orion and his new pet. He snatched the miniature ‘toy’ screwdriver from his friend, handing it back to you. “Don’t tease it, Orion.”

You nodded gratefully at D-16 and he ruffled your hair. This time, you didn’t bother insulting him since he had given you what you wanted.

The work alarm went off overhead and Orion slammed his locker shut just in time for the influx of workers to come through the shared stasis bunker on their way to work. D-16 tried to fight against the crowd to stay by the locker but Orion pulled him into the fray, muttering that it would look suspicious if he wasn’t at work on time.

“But what about- Will it be okay in there?” D-16 whispered as they headed into the lift.

“Sure,” Orion said from the corner of his mouth, trying to be quiet. “It’s been in there for days and it's been fine.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. Now be quiet and act normal.”

D-16 smiled and gave a small awkward wave to a bot in front of him who was observing the pair with a raised optical ridge. Over the years, Orion had caused more than his share of trouble so D-16 was used to the scrutinising looks from others, though he always got nervous when they both had something to hide.

You sighed and rested your hands on your hips. It was awful being constantly stuffed in a locker, especially since Big Red didn’t seem to think things through. He shoved you in your new ‘home’ whenever other bots were around or when he went to the lift which you assumed meant he was working. The problem with that was that his species didn’t tire easily and could work a very long time, and with this being what you could only assume was the poorer part of the city, there were always other bots around. You had to get your translator fixed quickly, or else you would spend the rest of your life in the locker. Still, things weren’t all bad. It was warm and safe. You often used your backpack as a pillow, sleeping through the first few hours before getting back to your repair work. You had privacy and a personal collapsable service suite that pulled moisture from the air so you could drink or shower - it even took care of your waste by vaporising it; alien inventions sure were convenient. Besides, now the other bot knew about you too, and perhaps he could help you. Resignedly, you set about keeping to your normal routine and began some light repair work, too awake to rest now. You only wished you knew what you were doing and that you had even the faintest idea on how to fix alien technology; your life depended on it.

Orion and D-16 were the first up and out of the elevator, avoiding the usual crowds by skipping the last few minutes of work with a lame excuse about being called upstairs. Honestly, the pair got into so much trouble they were often called up to meetings with higher-ups for tellings-off, which Orion usually tried to talk his way out of, and so nobody so much as batted an optic when they left.

Upon getting up to their quarters, Orion and D-16 were both relieved to see that the rotation team had already filed out, presumably having taken one of the other lifts to a different mine. Orion ran to his locker and hurled it open.

“Aww, look,” He pulled D-16 close to get a good look at you. “Minitronus is recharging. Hey, do you think it’s dreaming of us? Pets do that, right? Dream of their owners?”

“I mean, if Minitronus is thinking of me, that’s a dream. If it’s you, it’s a nightmare.”

Orion elbowed D-16 in the chassis then reached in to grab you.

D-16 pulled him back, “Whoa hey, don’t wake it.”

“We have to. It’s time for walkies and this is the only time we can get out of here quietly before the others catch up.”

Reluctantly, D-16 let Orion go.

You jolted awake, terrified until you remembered where you were and that you were now the ‘pet’ of an advanced alien. You settled groggily in his arms, wondering what he was going to do with you now.

He proffered you some words that sounded like two lawnmowers smashing together, but by his expression, you could tell he was happy. Then he jostled you, miming something you couldn’t understand until it was too late.

You scowled at Big Red with your arms folded, too insulted to even try yelling as he tugged you along an empty alley on your new wire lead.

This was a new low.

“I don’t think Minitronus likes walkies,” D-16 commented as you dug your heels into the floor, trying to hold your ground.

“Nonsense,” Orion said, trying to be gentle as he pulled at your lead, making you stumble forward, “It’s just not used to it yet.”

D-16 patted his thighs, “C’mon Minitronus. That’s it. Here Minitronus. Minitronus.”

After a few more attempts, you realised that the gentle electrical hum Grey kept repeating must be his name for you. Huh… Well, at least the repetition meant they had a stable language.

You listened again and tried to mimic the sound, making both bots pause to look at you.

“Did it just…?” D-16 asked, pointing at you.

You mimicked the sound again.

“It did,” Orion agreed. He ran over to pick you up, spinning you in his arms, “Who’s a smart Minitronus, huh? Yes, you. You are!”

Although your mimicry had been good, it wasn’t quite enough to convince them that you were sentient. Rather, they were looking at you like a parrot who had picked up a new phrase. Instead of repeating your name, you had managed a babyish mumbling somewhere close, that sounded more like Mini–Tron.”

D-16 beamed and petted your head, quickly coming to love his new pet. Orion was right, it was smart and cute.

“That’s so cool, I wonder if we can teach it more words.”

“I’m definitely teaching it swears,” Orion laughed.

Eventually, the pair headed back to the underground, with Orion heading in first, making sure everyone was recharging, before signalling for D-16 to follow with you.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t put me back in the locker,” You whined as you were placed on the top shelf.

“Oh no, don’t cry,” D-16 begged, listening to you pitchy chittering. He held a digit to his lips, shushing.

“You two will be gone for ages, what between sleeping and working, and it’s dark in there,” You continued, even though he couldn’t understand you.

You only stopped talking when he held you against his chassis, petting your head. You sighed in understanding. He was trying to keep you safe; this was all for your own good.

‘Okay,’ You thought, feeling strangely comforted by Grey’s actions. ‘If this is how it has to be for now… Okay.’

Orion gave an enthusiastic thumbs up to D-16, glad that he had managed to keep your mewls under control.

“Goodnight, Minitronus,” Orion whispered before shutting the door.

“We love you,” D-16 added.

You shook your head after the door shut; life was going to be interesting with those two.

“PAX!” Elita-One shouted, jetpacking up the empty elevator shaft to catch up with Orion and D-16 who had stolen away from work early for the third time that week.

Orion held you behind his back, hiding you just in time before Elita got in his face.

“Captain, what a surprise!” Orion grinned cheekily, already trying to smooth-talk his way out of the situation. “Me and D-16 were just saying what a great and wonderful leader you-”

“Can it, Pax!” Elita glowered. “I’ve had just about enough of you. It’s bad enough that you’re a troublemaker but now, you’re dragging D-16 down with you and- what’s behind your back?”

“My back? Nothing at all,” Orion shoved you into D-16’s open arms, and he in turn hid you behind his leg, trusting that you wouldn’t run away if he wasn’t holding you.

Elita grabbed hold of Orion, slamming him into the lockers, her eyes narrowing when she didn’t see anything worth hiding. She glared at D-16 who held up his servos in a shrug, gesturing to Pax who was already babbling about how strong she was and how no other Captain had had the strength to throw him so hard.

While Pax created a distraction and Elita-One continued her tirade against him, D-16 shuffled backwards, sneaking you out for your daily walk.

You had grown used to the routine now, learning the building’s alarms that marked the beginning or end of a shift. When it was coming time for Orion or D-16 to take you out, you always hitched on your backpack, just in case you needed anything, though you had long since learned not to work on your translator in front of Big Red, since he kept assuming it was a toy and continually threw it for you to fetch. Honestly, he was doing even more damage to the already broken machine, and it stressed you out constantly whenever you were forced to catch it before it hit the ground.

When you and Grey were alone, you always did repair work at the end of a walk, since he would take you somewhere quiet to rest for a while.

You had been living with the pair for just over two months now and in that time a few things of note had happened.

First, they had entrusted knowledge of you to a few of the others in their ‘platoon’ or whatever the group they worked in was called. This had happened after an incident wherein you had escaped your locker to explore and a silver and blue bot with a passion for dance stumbled into you and squealed. Big Red, and Grey hurried to your rescue and had to explain their ‘pet’ to him.

This led to you being the worst kept secret in the mining facility, though it was bound to happen eventually with so many bots living in close quarters. However, all the mining bots found you sweet enough and they all had a code of honour that meant they kept you secret from anyone with authority like Elita-One or any of the other captains.

Yet, while everyone knew about you and you were generally allowed out of the locker most of the time, it was still only Orion or D-16 who took you out, and they still tried to get out of work a tad early to check on you.

One of the other changes in your life was the delivery of a big bundle of wires as ‘toys.’ That was another word you had learned to mimic since Orion kept bringing you play-things and repeating the Cybertronian equivalent.

This happened after you kept picking up pieces of scrap wire on walks, taking them with you so you could use them in your repair work. At first, Orion and D-16 took them off you, afraid you would hurt yourself somehow, but when you kept collecting them and fought hard to keep the few you had, they assumed it must be a normal nesting behaviour and brought you a great deal more than you needed.

You were delighted with the gifts and hugged both bots for it. Then, after saving the few you needed for your translator, you weaved the extra wires into a new over-shirt. It was uncomfortable, but quite practical since your jumper was wearing away and you needed a new one to keep decent when you were washing your actual shirt.

Another problem to occur was your hair. In your time with the bots, it had grown very long, and much to your bemusement, Orion had tried cutting it. The whole thing had gone disastrously, and you suddenly understood those dogs that got terrible haircuts because they tried to escape their groomers; you could only be thankful that the bald patch was beginning to grow back.

The final change was Grey’s idea. He felt confident that you were well trained since you now responded to your name, paying attention when you were called through the miners’ hab-suite. Because of your actions, he often let you off-lead, which you were immensely grateful for. He rarely put the lead back on you unless he thought something was unsafe, so whenever it went on now, you clambered onto his shoulder, trusting that he would take you home and away from danger quickly.

It wasn’t a perfect life, but things were slowly improving. You could only hope that your lucky streak didn’t break and that you would be able to communicate your needs fully before the year was up.

D-16 sighed, sitting on the side of a tall building overlooking the city with you in his lap. You were content to let him pet you while you toyed with your translator. You went in an almost trance-like state whenever you tinkered with it now, honestly not expecting anything to come of it but needing to work all the same.

He continued speaking in his gentle, rhythmic noises and you hummed as if you understood, pressing a wire down with the flat of your screwdriver.

“- and that’s why I know what we’re doing is important. Even Sentinel says so. Us miners, we’re keeping Cybertron alive,” D-16 said proudly.

“Who’s Sentinel?” You asked absentmindedly.

D-16 screamed, accidentally throwing you off his lap.

“Hey, be careful!” You scolded. “You could have dropped me over the edge.”

You picked up your translator and brushed yourself off.

“Minitronus, you’re talking!” D-16 accused.

“Yeah, well so…are… Oh my God, I did it!” You breathed. Then you punched the air excitedly, “I DID IT!”

“WHAT IS GOING ON? HOW ARE YOU TALKING?!”

“I fixed my translator,” You squealed ecstatically, waving it in front of D-16.

“Your- Your toy?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, practically bouncing on the spot.

“This is impossible. You- You’re our pet!”

“No. Not a pet. Not anymore. I’m (Y/N). Okay, (Y/N),” You repeated your name slowly, trying to get it through to Grey who still looked panicked.

“Primus, this is insane.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“You’ve got to explain everything to me, right now.”

“Okay, sit down,” You patted the ledge.

D-16 did so, and you jumped back into his lap.

“What’re you doing? You can’t sit there now. You’re not an animal.”

“Hey,” You pushed against his servo, staying stubbornly in place, “I’m not going back on that ledge, I could fall.” “Fine,” D-16 relented. He went to pet your head again then stopped himself, keeping his servos stiffly by his sides. “As long as you explain yourself, you can sit wherever you want.”

Having told D-16 everything and had him explain a few things in return, things thankfully changed. Initially, things between you and all of the mining bots were awkward, with haunted comments from some of the bots like, ‘It saw me in the wash racks,’ or ‘I can’t believe I tried to rub its belly… No wonder it slapped me. Oh. Oh no.’

Once everyone got used to the idea, your life improved. You were still kept secret since none of the miners knew how the higher-ups would react to an alien species, but with some ingenuity and a few favours exchanged for information about your species and planet, they all came together to transform your locker into a proper living space, complete with all the amenities they could manage to scrape together. They even began forming a plan to try and have you off-planet and en-route somewhere you could survive before your supplies would run out.

After D-16 and Orion were over the weirdness, you still had them take you on your daily excursions, sans the lead since you were no longer their pet. Orion managed to laugh about the whole thing, but D-16 grew to be even more strained around you. However, you didn’t get to ask him about it till you were next alone with him, which was a long time afterwards.

“So… Do you hate me now?” You asked him one day while he walked a few paces ahead of you, keeping an eye out for anyone who he would need to hide you from.

“What?” D-16 sputtered. “I- I don’t-”

“It’s okay,” You smiled easily. “It’s a strange situation.”

D-16 felt his insides squeeze. He had held onto you while you slept. At the time, he thought you were cute. Now though… You were still cute when you slept, but it was a different kind of cute – Softer, somehow.

“I told you everything,” He sighed, defeatedly. “My life, my dreams, my fears.” He shook his head, continuing mournfully, “And you didn’t understand any of it.”

“Not true,” You contradicted, running to stand in front of him.

He watched you warily.

“I might not have known what you were saying, but I did understand you. Your tone, expressions, the sound of your voice. I understood more than you think.”

D-16’s spark pulsed.

“Let’s go home,” He said quickly, turning on his heel and walking away from you.

The two of you had to go where you wouldn’t be alone or things would change again.

D-16 was falling in love with you and he couldn’t let that happen. There were too many unknowns and he had his planet to think about. He was a miner – the life force of his planet. That’s what Sentinel Prime always said, and work came first.

Besides, you weren’t going to be on Cybertron forever. You couldn’t be. Once your supplies ran out, that would be it for you.

D-16 couldn’t get attached. It wasn’t like you were a pet anymore. You didn’t belong to him, even if he wanted you to.

You ran through the destruction of Iacon City, terrified by everything that was happening. Honestly, you had missed most of the events leading up to it, having been stuck in Sentinel’s tower, but you had seen the so-called Prime torture and brand D-16.

Afterwards, you tried to find him or Orion, but you were small and Iacon was big and the city was collapsing around you.

You screamed as you were grabbed seemingly from nowhere and looked up to see D-16, though he looked slightly different thanks to the new infusion of Megatronus’ T-Cog which you hadn’t seen him take from Sentinel’s corpse. Also, there was one other change – his angry red optics, which bore into you.

“D-16,” You shouted, “What’s going on? Where’s Orion?”

“Orion is dead,” He growled. Though he had made a promise that nobody else would be deceived, you needed to hear that lest you side with Orion over him. Besides, it wasn’t a lie. Orion was dead – Dead, and replaced by Optimus Prime. “And my name is Megatron.”

“Orion- Orion’s dead,” You repeated, too shell-shocked to even cry at the moment.

“Yes,” Megatron glossed over your emotions, far too focused on his rage as he transformed around you, keeping you safe inside his alt-mode. “And we’re leaving.”

“Where are we going?”

“To war!”

Yet, even as Megatron burned with hatred and his desire to bring down the corruption that fuelled his planet, he was already reading the intel sent by the disgraced High Guard, informing him of several nearby planets where you would be able to get the organic fuel you required to stay online.

Megatron had lost everything. He was not about to lose his beloved pet too. You were his, and you always would be.

A/N - Hey, I worked really hard on this so please comment, or at the very least reblog. Likes aren't enough anymore guys, they just aren't.

#fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #reader #transformers #maccadam #tf one #transformers one #d 16 #orion pax #elita one #megatron #optimus prime #d-16 #d 16 x reader #megatron x reader #The Creature From Another World #part one #chapter one

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lavenderchqn · 3 months ago

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synopsis — 4NEMO idol dating scenarios pairing — idol!aether, venti, xiao, heizou, kazuha and wanderer x gn!reader warnings — reader is also an idol in heizou's and wandy's; venti is feeling melancholic (me2, dw king); xiao is in the trenches, a very minor panic attack in heizou's, just regular sad stuff happening in the setting of wanderer's and genuine chaos wanderer but what's new with him; heads up for kpop related language, that's all I think? notes — I have officially called the 4nemo fandom wispies as an homage to the venti wisp, we have to deal with my mistake now.

The time for your weekly live was nigh. For the past few months, you had taken it upon yourself to spend a few hours streaming some work on Friday. Although it was abysmal to even think about working on a Friday afternoon. Having it be a stream made you more motivated to work.

Ever since becoming a manager of 4NEMO, you had to grab onto anything to not procrastinate. The role expansion from a producer to a producer-manager hadn’t been treating you kindly. Not to mention it had been a sudden decision, due to their previous manager leaving suddenly after the death of a close friend. You couldn’t have left the boys on their own.

“Good afternoon, Chat.” You opened your stream the same, just like always. Your camera was turned on, showing your business casual self to hundreds of fans. Another perk of forcing yourself to work under the watchful eye of Whispies — the lovely fandom that was here to support the boys.

“What are we doing today, [Y/N]?” You read the chat message out loud that’s been swimming in the sea of hellos and wishes for productive work. “Just regular stuff, I have some emails to answer. Everything I don’t want to come to on Monday… I guess”

After the initial stream preparations and deciding on the theme of Lofi music accompanying you for the journey, you made sure to remember to put your camera on full screen. If there was one thing you didn’t want to happen, that’d be catching a lawsuit for sharing sensitive information.

“Gonna work now.” You turned to the camera, putting a fist slightly in the air. “Fighting, everyone.”

With that, you were off — your timer running down from an hour. Very quickly after your first stream, with the decision made alongside your fans, you had all settled on a Pomodoro method. You would work for an hour, taking care of everything possible and having a short break. It would most often turn into a quick Q&A section.

Looking back, becoming friends with the fans had only done you wonders. By being established very quickly into the career of 4NEMO, they had nothing but support for the time your relationship with Aether has been announced. Oh, that had been a rollercoaster of a day. And let’s be real, the stream of that week’s Friday had been the most viewed one on your channel.

An email here, an email there… You were absolutely swarmed with emails. Just what on earth was Venti doing to need so many emails answered.

You put your head in your hands, sighing. “I am going to kill you on Monday, you dick.” Whispering to yourself, trying to give away as little as possible. For the sake of the fans, you just couldn’t threaten to murder one of their beloved idols. Especially not Wanderer’s or Xiao’s… If that were the case, you probably wouldn’t even make it to Monday.

Having decided to calm yourself down with a sip of water, you notice the timer of your phone going down to zero. What a lovely timing, you thought.

“Alright, everyone.” You turn to the camera, your phone in hand. “An hour has passed, it’s break time.”

The excitement in the messages is apparent. Some fans show up to the stream just for the questions-and-answer segment. At the very least, it’s what the statistics say. You don’t blame them whenever that happens. If you were in their position, you’d probably share the enthusiasm for the possibility of learning more about your favourite music artists from a reliable source.

“What question do you want to start with?” You ask eyes on the chat box. The first question had always been the one to set the tone for the rest of the section.

The Chat in question goes into chaos with far too many questions at once. Some of them instantly get deleted by moderators for not abiding by the rules… some of them are unhinged, to say the least. Why of all things they’d want to know the foot size of Kuni’s— Wanderer’s. You had promised to call him by his stage name, you should do that even when thinking.

In an instant, one of the questions pops out to you. “Can you sing your favourite Chimes’ song for us?” You read it out loud. It was the first week that this would’ve made sense. Last week the newest album of 4NEMO came out, featuring solo member songs for the first time.

You put on a thinking face, fully aware it’s just for show. Ever since starting the work on said album, almost a year ago… It was given which of the songs would be your favourite.

“I’m no singer, but I could try…” You answer, fully prepared to start singing ‘The Road Not Taken’ by your lovely partner. There’s so much encouragement from the fans, that it’d be a shame not to try. “Don’t laugh at me once you hear it though! It was your idea, guys!”

Taking a deep breath, you prepare yourself. You imagine the intro part with its beautiful guitars and piano notes. You even mimic playing the guitar.

“Traveling in the nights you've left me in…” Surprisingly, your voice is magnificent for this. You’re surprised at yourself for how good you sound. “I feel you in the last blow of wind…”

“Even nowhere I can find you out,” You start swaying, imagining your partner singing the song next to you. “The answer is not far off now…”

You’re so into the song in your head, that you don’t even realise the door to your room has been opened. Don’t notice your lovely partner coming into the frame, shushing the screaming chat. He’s about to make you aware of his existence.

“This journey of ours has been bittersweet…” You stumble back to reality when you realise the voice you’re hearing isn’t yours. Looking around, you finally notice Aether standing right next to you. You roll away from him, surprised to the core.

“Oh my gosh, you scared me!” You shout, hands at your chest. “What are you doing here?”

“The voice of an angel summoned me, of course.” He winks at you, still in the frame. “How are you, my Love?”

“Fucking floored, mate.” You slump down into your chair, embarrassed at the situation. “I didn’t even know you were home.”

“I just got back… I’m so fucking sore.” He sighs, stealing one of the other chairs in your office and taking a seat. “Remind me to kick Ven in the balls for such a rigorous practice session on Monday…”

“We’re live, Aether!” Not only was he threatening one of his group mates on a live… he was also destroying his established angelic persona.

Let’s just say… Venti was not happy on Monday, with either of you.

It’s close to 1 AM right now. The final concert of their latest tour came to an end around an hour ago. It happened right here, in Mondstadt… his home. The group's biggest tour, one that allowed them to travel all across Teyvat. Looking back, as the leader… and the initiator of the group, Venti should be ecstatic. It’s an enormous achievement no matter how you look at it. He got to perform with some of the closest people in his life and travel the world ending it with a chance to sing right in his place.

… And yet, at the same time… he’s feeling a little empty. For the longest time, this was their major goal. Now that it has been achieved, what’s more for 4NEMO to work towards to. That’s all that’s on Venti’s mind during their ride to their apartment complex. He’s silent for the entire duration — something that isn’t unacknowledged by the other members.

“Venti, what’s on your mind?” Kazuha asks, his voice sleepy. “You’ve been silent ever since the concert ended. Surely the resident yapper would have something to add?”

“I’m doing absolutely fantastic, Kazu!” Venti forces himself to be energetic. If he could, he’d just turn around and go nap… following in the footsteps of Aether and Heizou, who are asleep in their seats. “Just… taking the entire day in.”

“I see.” Kazuha smiles, turning around and settling into his seat. “Make sure to take care of yourself, whatever is on your mind.”

Xiao and Wanderer don’t engage in the conversation, most likely too tired to participate. At the very least they don’t comment on Venti’s unusual behaviour further. As much as he appreciates them not prodding into his thoughts… he wishes they would. Just this once. Just so that he doesn't have to be surrounded by all those voices. It’s just… difficult to come up with anything. It’s very loud inside his head. Far too loud.

Venti gazes out of the car window, watching Mondstadt’s familiar streets blur past as they head back to their apartment complex. The city is quiet at this hour, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, and yet it feels strangely distant to him. He should feel at home here, in the place that had shaped so much of his identity as both an artist and a person, but tonight... it’s just like any other city, just one of the many they’d visited on the tour.

It doesn’t get better even when the car stops at the entrance to the apartment complex. With the help of Xiao and Wanderer, they all manage to lead their sleepy companions to their flats. Oh, one of the perks of being well-established - being able to sleep in a place that you don’t have to share with anyone.

Now that he’s left all alone, prompted to head on to have his deserved rest by the two other awake members, he finally feels the exhaustion enter his body. Had it been any other day, Venti would most likely have taken a bath and had a glass of dandelion wine… Not tonight though.

As soon as he opens the door to his apartment, he gets reminded of your presence in it. Your shoes are right next to his slippers… Multiple of his oversized jackets that have gotten borrowed for eternity by you… He’s home. Actually home… and not in an all-inclusive hotel.

It’s for the better. Venti thinks there would be no way for him to fall asleep after a night like this in a stuffy hotel. Truth be told, he’s unsure if he will manage it tonight at all. He feels the immense need to distract his thoughts somehow, anyhow.

That’s how he ends up on the balcony, his phone in hand. He’s starting a live at almost 3 AM in the morning… He prays that Xiao and Wanderer have joined the other three in going to sleep. Venti would rather not have to deal with their teasing the next time they meet.

In no time a bunch of Wispies are joining, concerned messages pouring into the chat.

“It’s going to be a short one, don’t you worry lovelies…” He says, his voice hushed. Despite coming so late at night he’s unsure if you’ve fallen asleep yet. Venti predicts you must be out, given the lack of attention he’s been given.

“To all of you who were at tonight’s concert…” He starts, eyes looking out into the distance.” I hope you got back safely. Safety is a priority, after all.”

Thanks to a sudden force of wind, Venti’s hair flutters around his face as he continues to speak, his voice soft and calm despite the rush of thoughts in his head. He wasn’t sure why he decided to go live, maybe it was the strange emptiness that had settled in after the concert — something he couldn't explain to his bandmates but perhaps could share with his fans. They’d been with him from the start, after all.

“To everyone who came tonight... thank you,” Venti continues, his fingers absentmindedly fidgeting with the ends of his braids. “You guys made this tour special. Ending it in Mondstadt, my home... it was like coming full circle. But... now that it’s over, it feels strange, y’know?”

The chat instantly floods with responses — some fans expressing their love for the group and their music, others showing concern for his wellbeing. Venti smiled faintly at the screen, feeling the warmth from their concern, but he wasn’t ready to dive into his deeper thoughts just yet. Not here, not now.

He sighed and leaned against the balcony railing, the cool night air helping to clear his head. The lights of Mondstadt twinkled in the distance, casting a soft glow over the quiet streets. It was peaceful, and yet, inside him, there was still this gnawing feeling of incompletion.

“I guess it’s funny,” he chuckled softly, “we’ve been working toward this tour for so long... and now that it’s done, I can’t but feel a little lost. Like, what’s next? What should we work toward now?” He paused, letting the words sink in as he read through the chat. Some Wispies echoed his sentiment, sharing their own experiences of feeling aimless after reaching a big goal. Others reassured him that whatever came next, they’d be there for him and the group, regardless of the route they took.

Venti took a deep breath. “I don’t know what the future holds for 4NEMO, but I do know this... I’m grateful. For all of it. The music, the journey, and most importantly, for all of you.”

He is about to sign off when a soft sound behind him makes him freeze. The unmistakable creak of a door opening. His heart skips a beat as he glances over his shoulder, expecting to see an empty doorway — only to find you standing there, rubbing your eyes sleepily covered by a blanket. You must’ve been woken by his quiet monologue.

“Venven… why are you out on the balcony at this hour?” You ask, your voice thick with sleep. Venti doesn’t realise it at the time, but it is the introduction… of his lover to 4NEMO fans. He must think quick, not wanting to share more than necessary.

He waves at the camera, giving a hurried smile to his fans. “Alright, Wispies, gotta go. Need to take care of something!” He ends the live, putting his phone down before turning around to you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you, my muse…” Venti says softly, running a hand through his hand. “Couldn’t sleep…”

You step closer, the cool night breeze causing you to try to partially cover him with your blanket. “I could tell. You’ve got that look again… like you’re thinking too much.”

Venti chuckles lightly, still lacking his usual energy. “Yeah, maybe I am.” His eyes meet yours, the usual playful demeanour replaced with something more vulnerable. “The tour’s over... and I thought I’d feel more... complete. But instead, I just feel... empty.”

You join him to lean against the railing as well, your presence grounding him in a way he hasn’t realise he needed. “Maybe that’s normal,” You say after a moment to think. “You’ve been pushing yourself for so long. Maybe now that you’ve reached that goal, it’s okay to feel... off. You don’t always have to know what comes next. The guys are going to help you with that, for sure.”

Venti lets your words sink in, his shoulders relaxing a bit. It’s comforting… getting to hear it was okay to not have all the answers. Since the beginning, he had been the one everyone relied on to keep things moving forward. But maybe, just maybe, it was alright to take a step back and figure things out at his own pace. With or without their support.

“Thanks,” He murmurs. “I guess I needed to hear that.”

You smile softly, nudging him with your shoulder. “You’re allowed to take a break, you know. The world can wait for a while.”

Venti chuckles again, this time with more sincerity. “Yeah... I guess you’re right.” He takes a look back out at Mondstadt, the weight on his chest lifting ever so slightly. The future can wait. For now, he has this moment, and that was enough.

As you stand together on the balcony, the city quiet and still, Venti finally feels the tension ease out of him. He doesn’t have all the answers, and maybe that is okay. For tonight, being here, with you, is all he needs.

Whatever was happening today, was nothing short of chaos. Venti — the resident night owl — has been stuck in calls management for the past few hours, and questioned about the mess happening on social media. Xiao was at the epicentre of it, and they all needed the guy to realise whatever was going on.

Every awake member has done their utmost to try and get ahold of Xiao, without any success. Their last resort would be to visit his apartment… for quite the surprise.

By the time Xiao wakes up the 4NEMO group chat is in shambles. The poor idols have been trying to summon him for the past hours, their texts and calls going unanswered. He’s unsure what to do first when he sees all the notifications on his phone.

Once another call screen shows up, he finally answers. It’s Venti, obviously. Perhaps the group leader will enlighten him on what has transpired for the members to be unrestful.

“—Hello?” Xiao says, unsure.

“Oh my archon, fucking finally!” Venti’s shout makes the man recoil from the phone in an instant. “Have you seen the fucking video yet?”

“For fuck’s sake, lower your voice down… What’s up?” Xiao answers, looking at the asleep person in his bed. You’ve decided to stay the night after the date you had yesterday. He takes a second to think about what video Venti is even talking about.

As far as he’s concerned, it has to be the ‘making of’ their latest comeback… It’s been almost three weeks, meaning it was high time for it to be released.

“What happened?” Xiao asks once more, unnerved at Venti’s silence. Shit must’ve seriously hit the fan if Venti was giving him the silence treatment. He takes a second to think about what could’ve happened in the making of video of all things. He remembers you were there working as a movie producer… Was he in trouble due to something you’d done?

“Just…” Venti’s voice is numb, overwhelmed by the situation at hand. “Check twitter, would you.” He commands before hanging up.

Xiao blinks at his phone, the call abruptly ending with Venti’s cryptic demand. The sudden tension in his voice felt completely out of place, especially after such a peaceful night. He glances over at you, still fast asleep beside him, your face serene in the morning light filtering through the window. Whatever this was, it could wait... but clearly not for long.

He opened Twitter to a mess of being the star of trending tags. Not only him… You were also there, dubbed as ‘Xiao[Y/N]’. That was most certainly bad. The fans were not supposed to know about your relationship. What the fuck was going on?

Xiao hesitates a little before clicking to see what the deal is about. Maybe he's still dreaming. He wishes that was the case. His fingers hover over the trending tag. His heart is pounding in his chest, as anxiety creeps up his spine. He takes a deep breath before finally clicking on it. As the page loads, he’s met with an abundance of videos, comments, and screenshots. At first glance, it feels like utter chaos — the group’s fans are divided into theorising about your relationship, defending and attacking almost equally.

After a lot of scrolling, he finally sees it — one video with a particularly high number of notes. As soon as he clicks to see it, it all starts making sense. It’s the one scene Xiao had asked the editors to leave out the video… still in their newest release.

After multiple takes, the producers had announced that they finally got the shot.

“What do you think?” Xiao asked, coming up to you, swiping the sweat from his forehead. Solo scenes always made him nervous. Especially those where he was supposed to look attractive… and borderline sultry. If he had to pick a singular thing that absolutely enraged him, it was the constant need to pander to their fans.

“Very hot,” You answered, taking a look at him. You know you had gotten extremely lucky by getting into a relationship with such an attractive guy like Xiao… There were so many fans wishing they were in your spot, writing fanfiction just to get a crumb of what you had a daily intake of. “You gotta wear your hair pushed back more often.”

Your comment intrigued Xiao. Perhaps getting to work with an idol group for the first time, not to mention one your partner was in, was bringing out your weird thoughts. “Oh really?” He could engage in a little bit of teasing, why not. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he combed his hand through his hair.

From the faint hotness that crept onto your cheeks, he knew of the effect he had on you. Unfortunately for him, you were not the only one observing his motions.

“Get a fucking room, you lovebirds!” Heizou shouted from the other end of the shooting venue. This had gathered the attention of the remaining 4NEMO members, who out of nowhere became extremely interested in Xiao’s solo scenes… And with them, the camera followed in your direction.

It’s all there… in it’s full glory. “Fuck,” Xiao curses under his breath. He feels a sudden rush of cold, realising exactly why Venti sounded so panicked. This wasn’t just a minor breach of privacy — it was a full exposure of a relationship everyone involved with 4NEMO had been desperately trying to keep hidden.

The shitstorm he’s in the middle of proving exactly why he never spoke about you. The comments were relentless, ranging from supportive to accusatory. Some were feeling betrayed, others were speculating about every detail of your relationship. There were calls for a boycott, with a cluster of fans defending Xiao and his right to a private life.

He shuts his phone off, gripping his hair in frustration. This isn’t just bad for him— for heaven’s sake, you still didn’t know about anything. Would you even have a job anymore? For fucks’ sake, you had been so excited about working with 4NEMO and idols in general… and due to this fucking error your career could easily be over before it even took off.

Whatever this mess is, it needed desperate damage control. And for the sake for the sake of keeping your relationship healthy, he had to make you aware of what had happened.

Xiao shakes you awake, guilt all over his face. You look so comfy tucked under the blankets, akin to a kitten. No matter how much he’d prefer to leave you be and deal with the mess himself. There was absolutely a call to be made to whoever edited this episode.

“Five more mins…” You turn to the other side, getting away from Xiao’s hand.

“We don’t have five minutes,” Xiao sighs, taking away your blankets. “We’re in a lot of trouble, babe.”

The singular mention of you being in trouble wakes you up more efficiently than any espresso.

You sit up immediately, rubbing your eyes as you register Xiao’s serious tone. The warmth of the blankets is quickly replaced by a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach. "What do you mean we're in trouble?" you ask, your voice laced with confusion.

Xiao hesitates for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line. "The making-of video... It’s out. And... there’s a scene in there. Us.”

It takes a second for his words to fully sink in. Your heart skips a beat as you process the weight of his words. “Wait, what? Us?” You ask, blinking rapidly confused.

“Yeah, that solo scene thing. The one where we… where I came over to talk to you. They didn’t cut it like I asked.” He looks at you with a mixture of guilt and concern. “Everyone knows now.”

You lay back down, deflated. No matter how much you tried to damage control — cutting out the scene, pulling the video down… it wouldn’t do anything. Whatever entered the domain of the internet would stay there for eternity. “What do you suggest, Xiao?”

“I need to call management, that's for fucking sure.”

Humming, you accept his thought. Getting the input of a third party would be for the best. The company must have a PR specialist ready to help with the damage control. “I thought you’d break up with me instantly if that ever were to happen.”

Xiao, who by this point got out of bed stops himself before leaving the room. The look he gives you says everything — ‘the fucking audacity you have’. He’s appalled at your train of thought.

“Have you lost your mind?.” He says, voice laced with coldness. “We’re in this together, for better or worse.”

Maintaining a relationship with an idol under sworn secrecy was difficult, but do you know what was even harder? Being an idol yourself and having to keep it to yourself.

You and Heizou had made the decision to keep your relationship private. After days of discussing and gathering input from your agency teams, you both reached the same conclusion: it was far easier to be cautious in public than to navigate the complexities of parasocial fans.

Every outing became a carefully calculated operation — hoodies on, masks and glasses adoring your faces. Not the simplest touch was shared between the two of you in public. Every precaution you could taken, you took. Any hugs, kisses and whatever Heizou felt like showering you with had to be done behind closed doors. If there had been one advantage of being signed to different idol agencies, it would’ve been the lack of ‘company-wide’ appearances. Honestly, if you two were ever seen together in public like that… well, social media would simply go up in flames.

Yet, there was one unavoidable event where idol groups from all over Teyvat would gather — the end-of-year awards. A nightmare for anyone trying to keep their relationship under wraps. Not only was the venue packed with fans, but it was also swarming with cameras. Every reaction shot of idols was broadcasted globally, often becoming memes, destined to live on as reaction images for ages.

This year’s award ceremony was most certainly one to go down in history.

You knew 4NEMO would be one of the groups performing this year — Heizou had given you a heads-up. You’d heard him hum through the setlist they’d prepared, and you’d even had a sneak peek at the prototype outfits they’d be wearing. But what he conveniently left out was who would be taking on the solo dance during the final instrumental section.

Now, seated at the table, surrounded by your fellow members and other industry icons, you suddenly understood why he’d kept that part a secret.

As the lights dimmed and refocused on a single point, your heart skipped a beat. A spotlight circled to the stage, and there he was — draped in burgundy, his signature colour, eyes fierce and focused. Every subtle hint, every melody he hummed recently, all led to this moment. And yet, seeing him under the spotlight, dressed to the nines and poised to take on the solo, was breathtaking in a way that not a single writer could capture with their words.

The music swelled, and Heizou moved with flawless precision. Each and every beat punctuated by sharp turns and graceful slides. It was simply impossible to take your eyes off of him.

In your subconscious, you could feel people staring at you, and yet there was not a single thing that could force you to look away. It felt as if Heizou was dancing right in front of you, for you. The distance from the tables you were sitting at to the stage where he was did not exist at that moment.

You could notice every glint in his eye, every smirk creeping on his face. He was not dancing for the audience. They simply had the privilege of being in the same space as the two of you. Holy fuck, your boyfriend was so fucking hot. Of course, he was attractive each and every day. Today he simply decided to crank it up to an eleven.

Whatever that Casanova was doing, he was doing it damn right. He was simply in each and every single one thought of your head and— oh my god. Did his hair tie just slip out?! Dearest fucking archons, the last thing you needed was witnessing his ruby locks swaying to the rhythm.

Wait, wait, wait. Dance breaks never lasted this long. What was going on? Did you get teleported to a different dimension, where time slowed just for you? Simply to allow you to watch your partner in his element? Surely not? Fuck, Heizou needed to really fucking stop. With each and every beat, you felt melting in your seat a little more.

With a strong push, your little trance was over. Your leader, and frankly your best friend has been trying to shake you back to reality for the last few minutes.

“Heavens, [Y/N].” They whispered, finally getting your attention away from your partner. “We most certainly do not need a dating scandal tonight.” Your confused look must’ve alerted your fellow members of how out of it you are. Truly, to you, the past thirty seconds felt like hours.

“You’ve been watching your loverboy so hard, you didn’t even notice that your reaction was out for everyone to see.”

“Pretty sure it’s all over the net already.”

“Man, I even took a picture. Wanna see?”

You cover your face with your hands, the seriousness of the situation slowly creeping in. Of course, they showed you. Not anyone else, but you. Do you even want to know how you looked? You feel all warm from the sheer nervousness enveloping your entire body.

“Our silly [Y/N],” Your leader resumes throwing whispers your way. “I don’t think, I’ve ever seen a person look at someone else with so much love in their eyes.”

“Your boyfie for sure enchanted you tonight. Make sure you reward him well later tonight.”

Oh right, you still had to deal with Heizou’s reaction on top of everything.

You have been pacing around your flat ever since getting home. You refuse to check either your phone or social media in general. Living with a lack of knowledge sounds like such bliss. You most certainly do not need to be given a reality check. Every time your brain stops for a little, your thoughts circle back to the performance Heizou gave earlier today.

“How annoying…” You whisper to yourself, slapping your cheeks gently. You really need something to take over your mind for a short while.

“Oh? What’s annoying you, dearest?” Heizou asks, his arms sneaking around your figure to give you a back hug. He separates the second he feels panic creep into your body. “Shh— It’s just me, don’t you worry.”

With a few deep breaths, led by your partner holding your hand and caressing it gently to further ground you, your heart rate finally returns to normal.

“Hi,” You stammer, finally taking a look at him.

“Hi,” Heizou answers back, his olive eyes looking with relief. “You okay now?”

“Yeah, sorry for worrying you for a sec there.” You sigh. “I’ve been out of it ever since the awards…” Your mind takes a double-back the second the words leave your mouth. Oh, you made a blunder.

“Did I dance too good for your liking, dear?” Heizou asks a smile not leaving his face as he tilts his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this enchanted at something!”

You’re completely still, taking his words in. Did— did he see your face while performing or… Oh heavens, did he get that from social media?

“The fans have dubbed your reaction ‘the only correct one’.”

You let out a groan, the unwanted reality settling in even more. The only correct reaction — as if you hadn’t already put yourself on display enough tonight. All you can do is bury your face in your hands again.

“Oh my god,” You mutter, voice muffled a little. “I knew I was watching a little too closely… I didn’t think they’d actually put it on a screen for everyone to notice.”

“Oh, trust me, love. There was no reality where that wouldn’t get shown.” Heizou chuckles, taking your hands gently and moving them aside to get a good look at your face. “Your expression was… let’s just keep it short. It was quite legendary. Almost had Xiao break his emo persona when we saw the fans’ posts on the drive back…”

You try and muster up a comeback, but nothing seems to come out. Instead, you just shake your head, feeling warmth blooming in your cheeks once more. “Look, I can’t help that I— “

“That you what?” Heizou prompts, leaning in dangerously close with a mischievous smirk, your hand still in his… His eyes fixed on yours.

“That I got… carried away.” You pause, exhaling with your entire body. “I mean, how could I not?! You were amazing, babe. I felt as if you were dancing just for me…”

Heizou’s smirks softens, as he nods slightly. “Perhaps I was,” he says, voice dropping to gentle murmur. “Perhaps I put everything into that dance… just because I knew you were watching.”

You manage to wiggle your hand out from his grasp. As it slowly rises up his body right to his face, you take his words in. Dancing with so much passion just because you were there huh? You pinch his cheek gently. “Next time, dance like that for me in private.”

“Oh?” His demeanour matches the one he had a few hours ago, the one which allured you so much. “How about you take me out to dinner first, then?”

It was no secret to the 4NEMO fanbase what your relationship with Kazuha was. You had been clearly dubbed his soulmate ever since you were introduced during one of his vlogs. Despite the initial confusion, they had no choice but to accept your position. Besides, you were an absolute sweetheart.

Sooner than later, you — a complete outsider to the world of idols — had garnered your own fanbase. Having been dubbed the 7th member of the group, protecting the boys from the ‘6 member curse’ you had become one of the most recurring side characters of 4NEMO daily content.

Despite being loved by many, some things never changed. Errands being one of them. At the end of the year, they just piled up like crazy, the atrocious weather discouraging you from ever leaving your house to do them in the first place.

“Come on, Dove…” Kazuha sighed, peeling the blankets from your body. He had promised to accompany you on your mission and preferred to be back in time for his afternoon nap. “We ought to get leave soon.”

He was met with unintelligible muffled words, most likely telling him to scram off. You, his absolute sweetheart of a partner telling him to fuck off? Quite the blasphemy. Kazuha just couldn’t leave the situation like this. Well… it was time to use brutal strength, wasn’t it?

In one singular swift motion, he scooped you up, blankets and all. If you didn’t leave the bed on your own, he’d simply take the bed with you. “You know I won’t be able to join you unless we do it today.” Kazuha was right — starting next week the group would begin their winter tour… Leaving you completely to your own devices. You would most certainly procrastinate it then too…

“I know…” You said, voice laced with sadness. “Am too comfy, thoughhh…”

If there was one way for Kazuha to take said comfiness away… Simply, It would be putting his muscles to good use. Here was to hoping he didn’t strain any of them. He’d rather not face the wrath of Venti and the group’s management. As he predicted, as soon as he started to spin in place — you still secured in his arms, you started shouting for him to let you go. Your lovely feeling of comfortableness and warmth was long gone…

“Pleasure to be working with you, Dove.” He lowered you onto the ground, allowing you to take a breather. Anything to make the world not spin. “Get ready, I’ll start working on breakfast.”

Just as you predicted, doing your errands in the company of your partner boosted your productivity. You managed to get a lot done… with your yearly health checkup as a cherry on top. As a treat and a reward for actually doing your errands, Kazuha was taking you to your favourite cafe as a prize.

Located in a hidden alleyway, it never had too many customers. The only ones who knew about its existence were coffee connoisseurs or 4NEMO fans, who learned about it from your daily instagram stories.

As you and Kazuha stepped into the cosy, dimly lit café, the warmth immediately contrasted with the biting cold outside. The soft hum of lo-fi music played in the background as the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed with maple syrup enveloped the space. It was exactly the little haven you needed after a long day of errands, and Kazuha smiled as he saw the familiar look of contentment on your face.

"You always relax the moment we walk in here," He remarked whispering, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

"How could I not? This place feels like a big hug," you reply, finding your favourite corner by the window. The barista, a young-looking girl came over to ask for your drinks of choice. She must’ve been a new hire since neither of you had ever seen her before. She was quickly shushed by her coworker, who decided to take over your order.

“The usual?” She asked, a smile on her face.

“Absolutely.” You answered, turning to Kazuha. “What about you, love?” You pointed to the maple latte, something that would fit his tastes to a T. “That sounds like something you’d enjoy.”

Kazuha shook his head, mentioning to the barista to make his usual order. “Just because my song is titled ‘Maple Leaf Samurai’ doesn’t mean I’m obsessed with maple flavour, silly.” He flicked your head lightly.

In no time your drinks are delivered by the younger barista. She takes a few good looks at both of you, as well as the drinks that now are on the table. “I hope you enjoy!” She smiles, before heading to go back…

“Oh, um.” You turn around, sort of curious about the girl. “Did you start working here recently?” You ask, getting her attention. “You don’t have to answer, but I’m simply curious. We’re regulars.”

She comes closer, moving a chair for her to sit on. “I am! I’ve learned of this place thanks to an idol group I listen to… You know, 4NEMO?” Oh. Did you perhaps open a can of worms? While it was nothing out of the ordinary for the fans to visit this place due to a recommendation you had given, getting a job was quite next level. Regardless if it was you or any other idols good on the girl. Getting a job at a young was so difficult in this part of Teyvat.

“The coffee is really lovely here…” You answer, taking a sip. “The people that recommended you this place must know what they’re saying.” Kazuha is keeping his eyes on you, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to himself. Meeting fans was nothing out of the ordinary for him, however, it had always been under the careful gaze of managers and security…

“The girl, [Y/N], is absolutely my fave. Such a blessed soul, she is…” At this point the barista is just daydreaming, swaying left and right on her chair. Her words put you into a completely still state. You know that there were fans of you in particular, but to have you as their favourite member?

By this point, Kazuha can no longer hide his laugh. He’s snickering in his seat, as delicately and elegant as possible… but he sure is not discreet.

“You’re a fan of [Y/N] too?” He chuckles, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. The barista's eyes widen, as she tilts her head in confusion.

“Wait, you know of them too?!” She covers her mouth in shock, eyes going from Kazuha to you in a swift motion. “Are you fans of the group?”

You gave her a sheepish smile, scratching the back of your head. “Yeah… I guess you could tell we know of [Y/N] pretty well.”

Your partner takes your hand to play with your fingers. His eyes, however, don’t leave the barista. “Well, pretty easy to know of an individual when you’re dating them, no?” He asks, a smile reaching his ears.

The barista blinks rapidly, before jumping out of her chair. The atrocious creak of the chair moving makes her turn instantly to the counter. She’s apologising to her coworkers and other guests, before turning back. “Oh, my Archons.” She also bowed before the two of you. “— I didn’t realise, I’m so sorry! I should’ve recognised you sooner—“

You also stand up, wanting to help her calm down. “It’s not an issue, don’t worry…” Behind the girl’s back, you mouth an apology to your regular barista, nervous for causing such a commotion. You take a deep breath, noticing the young girl is settling down.

“Sorry… regardless—“

“There’s absolutely no need.” Kazuha also stands up, fully in his idol mode. “It’s absolutely fine. It’s quite a refreshing experience, in all honestly.” His smile is filled with so much purity. Oh, your darling angel.

The sudden meeting ends with a proposition to take a picture. It’s done under the promise of not sharing it on social media. The barista asks specifically for a picture with just you and her — her ult bias. Oh, that is the price for being an unfortunate not real member of a group.

“Mr. Kazuha,” The girl starts. “Be sure to treat your lovely [Y/N] well. There are so many fans ready to fight you for her love and affection.”

Kazuha chuckles in response. With being one of the more active members, he’s quite aware of the situation at hand. In reality… pretty much one-third of his fans enjoy you more than him. It most certainly fills his heart with both happiness… and relief.

“But of course.” He smiles, hiding his mouth with his hand. “I’ll make sure to fight every single one of you before I hand My Dove over.”

There was a lot that could go wrong when your relationship was announced to the entirety of the globe, not to mention how bad it was when said information was released by a gossip website.

You had been fully aware of the consequences of dating Wanderer — his fanbase was labelled as the most toxic one amongst all of 4NEMO idols. What had there been more to say, there had been a lot of people who wished to be in your place.

The sheer amount of emails sent to your agencies demanding for you to break up was something else. The flood of messages, tweets and posts flooded in from fans who had felt entitled to dictate your life had been overbearing on your mind.

Unfortunately, for you, the biggest and the most unwelcome surprise had been yet to come. After an entire day of you alone had ended off with a call from the manager leading the group you were a member of… They had decided to put you on an indefinite hiatus. The company had chosen to exclude itself from helping your situation in any way…

Oh, the tears you had shed that night. The comforting words your partner had to speak to try and calm you down.

Looking back, that was the exact moment you had felt at your worst. From the sheer stupidity of a gossip magazine, which hadn’t even managed to gather reliable material — one you hadn’t had the opportunity to sue from the lack of funds — you had lost everything in one day. The only cherry on top had been seeing your fellow members be given lines in songs that had previously belonged to you.

Your hiatus, slowly, had turned into a permanent erasure of you from the band. After many deliberations between the higher-ups, you had simply been let go. You had been thrown to the curb, forced to fend for yourself. With the unfortunate resume, the gossip website had given you, not a single rational had wanted to bet on an idol who could be in a scandal.

To say your mental health had hit rock bottom would be an understatement.

And yet, a light at the end of a dark tunnel existed. Your partner, despite his sarcastic persona, took your struggles seriously and did his utmost to keep you sane during the said period. That, however, did not mean Wanderer didn’t participate in some bad decision-making himself. He was taking to social media consistently, hurling insults at your previous company.

“Even if we weren’t together, I would’ve done so.” He rolled his eyes when you commented on his behaviour one time. “What sort of fucking company decides to let go of a damn good idol just because they get spam mail, like be for fucking real babe…”

Wanderer truly became your rock during those times. These unfortunate times didn't do anything but strengthen your bond. What his fans wanted had the exact opposite effect on your relationship.

As for your ruined career… your partner couldn’t simply leave it as that. There was so much potential left to rot, simply because some people got overwhelmed and decided to take it out on you. He decided to pull all the strings he could, just to get you back on the idol scene — with as much grace as possible.

Bowing and scraping was not something he preferred to indulge in, but for your sake, it was quite worth it. Over the months before your relationship was revealed you had done so much to get him out of the emotional void he was stuck in… seeing you slowly enter it yourself had been the last thing he wished for.

Many months later, the stars began to align themselves. Thanks to Wanderer’s recommendations a smaller company had decided to take you in as a solo artist. They were taking quite the gamble with your person, and you had put everything you could to make your debut a success. Your fans, 4NEMO fans, who decided to side with you after your boyfriend’s campaign… they all had done everything to make it as profitable as possible.

To say you did a marvellous job would not simply be enough. Your perception was shifting ever so slightly with more critics complimenting the work you had done. Being your fan was no longer something to hide.

With the sudden throwback into stardom, one group of people have made themselves known once more… The paparazzi — ones that also were working for the gossip page that was kinda sorta behind your initial downfall.

You were simply leaving the company after a morning filled with mornings, when out of nowhere you were met with a magnitude of flashes. With a phone in your hand, you had simply done the first thing that came to mind. And well, it was to cover yourself with it. Oh, if only you didn’t forget what you had in your case — a pretty, unreleased photocard of your partner was there… All for people’s glory.

What a way to make your return. Another Wanderer-related scandal to greet you, just as your career began to take off once more.

“Holy fuck, you really have the worst luck, babe,” Wanderer says as you step into your shared apartment. You texted him about the situation on your way back, seeking his advice. “Did management get back to you?”

You sink into the cough, your head landing right into his lap. “They say they don’t mind… But I’m still nervous.” Despite their reassurance, your experience has taught you no company wants to deal with scandals. Especially a small one like the one you currently work at.

“They better fucking not, ” He replies, his finger threading through your hair as he caresses your scalp. “Especially after what I have saved in my drafts on instagram.” He is muttering to himself, talking about a scandal of a lifetime…

It’s not like you’re paying attention to whatever he’s speaking of. You’re far too comfortable and far too anxious to do so.

It wasn’t long before you discovered the ‘scandal’ your partner decided to create. You open social media to find his latest post — a playful selfie with his phone in the frame, sporting a cute photo card of yours in his case. It mirrors the exact scene you were photographed earlier that day. And of course, its cation was quintessential Wanderer:

‘You bitches thought you got rid of my partner? Nah, think again. It might do you good.”

You couldn’t help but let out a breathless laugh mixed with disbelief. Dearest heavens, this was quite a way to wake up! Your heart raced, not just from the surprise, but from the sheer magnitude of his words.

But the reaction come quickly, as expected. Wanderer’s phone starts buzzing with calls from 4NEMO's management, ready to scold him for pulling such a risky move. You can almost hear their collective sighs of exasperation through the line.

Yet, as you sit there, staring at the screen, a warmth spreads through you. There is something undeniably attractive about how he puts himself on the line for your career and mental health. It was such a bold statement - one that showed he was willing to face the backlash just to support you.

date of posting — october 28th 2024

458 notes · View notes

dovveri · 3 months ago

Text

strike a pose

synopsis: momo’s the best photographer in korea and she’ll be taking your pictures for the annual haute couture magazine

warnings: swearing, 69, mutual masturbation, filming during sex, taking pictures during sex, reader has a praise kink

w/c: 4.6k

a/n: can be read as a standalone but also follows directly from sana’s part

⌞ ⌝

"momo!"

a pretty girl with bright blonde hair pokes her head out from around the corner, eyes brightening when she sees her assistant with you in tow.

"come in! i've been expecting you! y/n right? sana told me all about you!"

"s-she did?" you gulp nervously, unsure of what exactly sana told the world-class photographer.

momo grins, "enough anyway. c'mon- let's get you changed. we've got quite a few shots i want to try out today. sana really outdid herself with the outfits this time. i can't help but think she was a little more inspired than usual." there's a teasing lilt to her voice, like she knows something you don't.

you can only allow yourself to be ushered along as hands start pulling at your clothes, makeup brushes touch up your face, and hair rollers are placed into your curls.

after your appointment with sana, she had managed to get your contact number, either through your agency or whatever else. it was mainly just for business though, she’d ask for your opinions on certain colours or ideas she had, treating you as if she didn’t fuck you senseless in her workshop upon your first meeting. you just took her lead and pretended it never happened, though every time her name lit up your phone screen you’d feel a little tingle down your spine at the memory.

"alright! let's get going team we have a lot of shots to take today!" you hear momo's stern yet excitable voice over the pop music in the studio. momo's reputation was just as prestigious as sana's, though she was admittedly a lot less intimidating. people said it was because of her general airy obliviousness that made models feel at ease and comfortable when posing for her that made her a pleasure to work with. of course, that never diminished from her actual job at hand, she was the best photographer in korea, always booked out and only shooting for the best magazines and companies across the country. she could be a little awkward but her work spoke volumes, she was simply better at communicating with her tool than with her words.

you're rushed over in your first outfit of the day, an extravagant, floral piece with a set full of colour and vibrancy. once all the stylists are done touching you up and hurriedly move out of the camera frame, momo wanders up last, smiling and adjusting your body to her desired position.

her touch is soft, barely there, it leaves goosebumps on your skin, or maybe it was the fact that the a/c was on high.

"alright?" she checks in on you, eyes twinkling.

you gulp from her proximity, the only thing separating your bodies the camera hanging around her neck. you nod sheepishly, unsure of yourself.

she smiles, "just let me know if you want to take a break or anything yeah? remember you're the most important person in the room here, if we don't have a model, we don't have pictures, so don't be afraid to make any demands at all."

you nod again, not trusting your own voice to speak, but you appreciated momo being so accommodating of you.

with that, she steps back, holds the camera up to her face, and starts taking photos.

⌞ ⌝

momo isn't the type of photographer to yell out compliments or directions while she's working. she stays quiet most of the time, only asks you to keep natural and do whatever feels comfortable. it's not awkward though, you could tell how focused she got when she was working, how much effort she put into her job, what a perfectionist she was.

soon enough, you've run through all but one of the outfits and backdrops, the swimsuit segment.

your hair is being curled into wavy, ocean-swept locks when the stylists pull out the skimpiest bikini you've ever seen. after they're done clipping together the pieces, some of them even have the shame to look away despite having seen you in all your naked glory multiple times during the shoot. you thought it was a piece that was perfectly reflective of its maker. covering almost nothing yet leaving everything to be desired, teasing in the most erotic way imaginable.

the studio has already been cold enough with the air-conditioning on full blast, but now with the new beach backdrop and a mist fan blowing directly on your body and face to give your hair the appearance of being freshly blown through with a sea breeze, you're near shivering.

it doesn't help the chills going down your spine every time momo glances over at you. and momo makes it known when she likes something and when she doesn't. and the way she was stalking towards you like you were her prey, her eyes dragging over your body again and again, licking her lips, until she's almost nose to nose with you, it was pretty safe to assume she liked what she saw.

"alright?" her voice is husky, like she's controlling herself from doing something not so work-friendly.

you can only nod, breath hitching.

"hmm... are you sure? you don't look alright."

"h-how do i look?"

she gives you a devilish glare, "i don't think you want me to answer that y/n."

"why n-not?"

she leans in even more, you almost close your eyes out of habit before you realise she's breathing next to your ear, voice low, only meant for you, "is that how we're playing this? you're gonna act stupid? or... do you have a praise kink y/n? want me to tell you what a pretty girl you are? to tell you about how i think you look absolutely succulent and how badly i want a taste? how i want you riding my face with your perfect tits swinging back and forth while you leak into my mouth, my camera set up recording every movement, every sound, every scream you'll be making because of my tongue? is that what you want to hear?"

your ears were always sensitive, even momo breathing near them has you squirming and the inside of your bikini bottoms soaked. you whimper as she whispers filth into them, feeling light-headed and desperately needing to hold onto her or you'd be at danger of falling over and exposing just what she made you feel to all of her staff.

she smirks, turning on her heel quickly and barking , "out! everyone out! good job today but I'll be finishing up these final shots myself. thank you all for your hard work."

her staff exchange glances a little uncertainly, never having been told to leave early by momo before, so they were unsure if that was what momo really meant.

momo tuts impatiently, "did you not hear me? pack up! let's go!"

her staff are prompted into movement, hastily running around and collecting their personal items before bowing out of the studio. momo glares down anyone that looks to be dawdling for too long, tapping her foot and ensuring her studio was empty before turning back to you.

you gulp, grateful the makeup on your face was covering the bright red blush on your cheeks. you both knew what was going to happen. it was a little absurd this was happening to you a second time when both times it's been 2 of the most influential people in the fashion industry. you're still in disbelief that they wanted you.

momo eyes you again with a smirk, fully appreciating you without the burden of her staff bustling around and calling for her attention in the background.

"alright gorgeous. let's do some standing poses first. whatever makes you feel the most confident."

you nod, taking in her direction and pushing one hip out, raising both arms to mess around with your hair, face morphing into a practiced smile, going for the sexy, energetic woman on the beach.

momo starts snapping away, humming and checking the photos every now and then, there were a few she took from certain angles that were a little... questionable, but you weren't one to question, so you let her do whatever her creative freedom asked her to.

"now can you lean forward? hands on your knees please."

you blush, this was a classic swimsuit stance, it would be fine, there was nothing to be shy about.

you do as she asks, switching your happy-go-lucky smile to one that’s a little more seductive.

momo takes a second to raise the camera to her eye, staring at your chest like she had lagged out. but once she does, she’s back to work, making sure she gets all the best shots.

“now lie down. on your side.”

you gulp, following her instructions. momo moves the fan to be at your face level, so it’s still blowing through your hair. she lingers a little, adjusting your face, hand on your chin. her eyes are stormy, the hint of a smirk permanently etched onto her lips. her hands drift from your chin, down to your shoulder, gliding fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. your breath hitches audibly when she slips down to your side. she hums approvingly, her smirk growing as she traces your side, your stomach.

then she slides backwards, leans back on her knees and brings the camera back up to her eyes. you’re caught as her shirt lifts, her very visible abs peeking through.

momo clears her throat, “camera’s up here darling.”

you lick your lips, not even needing to fake your next look, reeking of pure sex. all you can think about is momo’s abs, her thighs, the way her knees are spread, her biceps, her well-endowed chest, all that muscle she was packing underneath a teasing smile.

she takes the picture.

then she’s the one leaning forward, going on all fours, crawling towards you slowly.

you hold your breath as she reaches you, nudging your hip lightly so you’re lying horizontally. and then she’s hitching a leg over your side and sitting on top of you.

your hands instinctively go to her hips but she catches them, pushing them above your head, her chest smothering your face in the process.

she leans back too soon, bringing the camera to her face, adjusting herself to sit better on your hips. “there we go. you’re a pretty girl.”

you blush brightly at her comment, looking away shyly. she starts snapping immediately, grinning. you compose yourself and look back towards the camera, biting your lip, drooping your eyes, satisfied when you hear the stutter in momo's work before she starts clicking again.

once she's happy with those shots, she moves off your body, but keeps a hand on your stomach to keep you there, pushing down slightly letting you know who was directing you, who owned you. then she's propping up a beach ball, or an umbrella, you couldn't really tell you were too focused on the way her abs tensed as she lifted and shuffled things around.

she leans you back, then slides her hands down from your stomach to your thighs, pushing gently.

your eyes widen, unable to resist as she spreads your legs, licking her lips as she stares.

“m-momo.”

“hmm?”

“um- the- the photos?”

she clicks her tongue, “impatient are we? just let me enjoy the view for a little.” her eyes track back up your body, smirking at the hooded look you give her, breaths coming in and out visibly harder, your arousal too obvious to ignore.

after what feels like forever sitting in your own slick, she finally moves backwards, bringing that goddamn camera back to her face, her smirk only growing wider with each passing second, before she starts to click.

she takes a few shots, then feigns disapproval, frowning down at her camera in the most exaggerated pout you have ever seen, so you know it’s just for show.

“y/nnnnn~” it’s cute, too cute. “i don’t like these. will you… spice it up a little?”

you take a breath before responding, steadying yourself, “spice it up?”

“yeah. y’know…”

“…i-i don’t.”

momo’s expression changes immediately, scowling, her cutesy show over in a flash, “don’t be a brat y/n. you know what i’m talking about. you think i can’t see you dripping for me? you think i can’t see the way you’re squirming, how you’re imagining the way i’d feel under you, inside you? don’t make me spell it out for you. be a good girl and do what you want to do.”

she's completely right of course. her words only encourage the thoughts you've been keeping locked away since the moment you saw her. you didn't think it was professional for this to happen a second time, hell the first time you didn't think it was professional.

but you gulp, hesitantly bring your hands down to your stomach, tracing the skin there lightly. you feel your nails dig in just lightly and you gasp, hyperaware of your body and all its sensations. the cool air of the room, that fucking fan that's been blowing wet mist at you for the past 20 minutes, momo. god momo. she was so fucking hot. in that sleazy, greasy, nice-guy way straight girls found film bros hot. except momo had the face and body to match the arrogance she hid under practiced professionalism and niceties.

you whimper as a hand trails up and captures a breast.

momo grins, bringing her camera back up to her eye, more vocal now than she has been the entire photoshoot.

"there we go. now we're getting somewhere."

you feel your breaths go heavier, no longer able to hide yourself as you ache to rub your thighs together.

she notices of course. she notices everything about your body.

"don't you fucking dare. tease yourself. make it worth it. make yourself earn it."

you try and take a breath to steady yourself again, though you don't know why, each breath hasn't been helping at all, only making the matter worse as you become more and more aware of your arousal.

with difficulty, you bring your other hand to your chest, now groping both your tits, moaning fully, completely on display for her while she snaps away.

"there we go- that's good- more like that- mhmm-"

momo mumbles praises and compliments that make your head dizzy and your pussy clench. your fingers find two hard nubs that have been begging for attention since you had gotten in this glorified piece of cloth. you pinch simultaneously and let out a pathetic sound of lust.

momo gets it all on camera. zooms in even.

knowing you had an audience, that this was being recorded, it gave you a sick sort of thrill that made each squeeze of your hands feel that much better, each click of momo's finger, like she was rubbing your clit with each photo.

one hand slips under the bikini top, doesn't reveal it to the camera, but it's obvious where it is, pulling and twisting as you writhe, legs shaking, sweat collecting, desire building.

momo comes closer, sits right between your legs, keeps them open, captures your face mid-moan, anyone could hear the pornographic sounds you were making without needing film, the pictures momo took were enough. she was that good.

the heat of another person near you makes you grow desperate. "m-momo- p-please- i- i- i need-"

"hmm? what do you need darling? tell me. remember i said you're the most important person in the room. without you, we don't have pictures, without you, i don't have a job. so, what do you need?"

"y-you! please-"

"me? what do you want me to do to for you?" she cocks her head, acts confused, you know better.

"w-what you said e-earlier! p-please i'm please- i'm begging-"

"oh you're begging? why are you doing that? i'll give you anything you want darling. there's no need to beg. do you think i'm that mean?" she pouts, has the audacity to look completely innocent even while she has you under her, dripping onto the floors of her studio, hands groping at your chest, back arching trying to get closer to her.

"m-momo!"

"what?!"

you almost cry, sliding your right hand down your stomach, straight into your bikini bottoms, the waterproof material did it's job too well. you couldn't tell from the outside, but the inside, it was drenched. you moan as your fingers meet your folds.

momo doesn't even glance down, keeps staring at you in mock ignorance.

you slide a finger up and down your slit, gritting your teeth as you rub your clit harshly. too harsh, you would come too soon. you ease up, sliding back down to your entrance, hips bucking up, other hand still twisting at a nipple.

snap!

you roll your head back as your hips rock against your hand, letting her slide down and position herself right in front of your cunt, lens pointed directly at it. you can't look at her, too embarrassed as you push your fingers in and out of yourself, just centimeters away from her face, from her instrument.

you've been groping at your chest enough that the material has ridden up, half of your chest exposed to the studio, to the flashing lights at each click of momo's fingers, and fuck you needed more space. so you hastily pull at the strings tying the bottoms together, just one side while your other hand keeps pumping in and out of you. it falls away easily and you feel yourself clench around your own fingers at the gasp momo lets out, snaps growing quicker in succession.

the hand that untied your bottoms goes right back to your neglected tit, rubbing and squeezing while you hump your hand.

you risk a glance down, and you almost cum at the sight.

momo's got one hand on her camera, the other down her pants.

it's a little pathetic, the way she's grinding down on herself, trying to alleviate the tension that's built up in her lower stomach, such a pretty girl reduced to a horny loser at the sight of pussy, but it gets you so hot knowing she was affected by you.

your eyes focus in on the hand trapped between the floor and her cunt, the rapid movements giving you an idea of what was going on inside her pants. you start to match her pace, bringing the hand that was palming at your breast to rub at your clit, pushing it around in little circles as you gasp and moan and clench for her.

momo curses under her breath, cheeks flushed as she stays on her stomach, a shaky hand still clicking away, changing settings, zooming in and out, capturing every moment of your build-up.

it was too much, her focus, the way you're pulsing, the flashes of the camera. you cum.

your vision whites out, throwing your head back, unable to hear the little curses momo lets out as she pulls her other hand out of her pants, frantically grabbing for her camera to be able to capture your full glory in your orgasm, her fingers still covered in her own slick, zipper undone as she scrambles to her feet.

you keep pushing in and out of yourself, slowing down the circling on your clit until a full stop, breathing heavily as your vision returns.

you blink, looking around hazily, pulling your fingers out of yourself with a wet squelch.

you find her eventually, stumbling around with her pants fallen to her knees while she fiddles with different cameras and light settings.

your post-orgasm haze finds her adorable. so different to the woman who said she'd have you screaming on top of her tongue. she was unpredictable, your initial canvas of her was wrong. she was simply... momo. she was unique, the only person who could possibly understand her was herself, and you doubted she understood herself. but that didn't matter, because she's good at what she does and she gets what she wants.

she notices you watching her after a little, blushing and kicking off her pants fully.

"sorry y/n just gimme a second."

you smile, shaking your head, "it's alright."

you watch fondly as she finishes up, but with her legs now exposed you can't help but feel the twinge of arousal in your core as your eyes follow the muscles of her thighs, her calves, her ass when she turns and bends. she acts so oblivious but she must know what she's doing.

you sigh, leaning back and running your hands up your stomach again, appreciating the view. you finally take off the bikini top, freeing your chest and groping freely at them as momo stands back up.

she checks the camera once more, then takes off her top. her bra follows quickly after, and she turns.

her eyes narrow as she stalks towards you, chest swinging proudly as you whimper, pinching your nipples and wishing you could just bite down on hers.

"i see you started without me."

"mhmm~"

"i told you to give me a second didn't i?" she stands above you, arms crossed over her chest, pushing her breasts together sinfully. you notice the wet spot on her underwear, trying to hide a giggle but failing.

she raises an eyebrow, pulling her panties off. that gets you to stop, your mouth watering at her cleanly shaven, dripping cunt.

"something funny?"

"n-no."

"c'mon. i like funny things. tell me."

"nothing's funny."

she kneels down in front of you, on all fours, your eyes go straight to her chest.

"impatient and a fucking liar."

you whimper.

she juts a finger behind her, her eyes never leaving yours, "i'm giving you what you wanted now. what i said. that camera's filming us, so are three others around the room, just so we get every angle. now you're gonna sit on my face and look pretty. understand?"

your eyes widen, wet already from your first orgasm, fresh arousal starting to build up. you nod.

"good girl."

you squirm at the term, watching as she lies down, then pulls on your thighs to get you to kneel on top of her. you're a little embarrassed as you lower yourself, but momo doesn't give a shit. she yanks you down and starts eating like it's her last meal.

your hand comes up to your mouth in an automatic reaction, trying to stifle the sinful moan you let out as she starts lapping at you. you can't control yourself. you never could around her. your body reacts on it's own. riding her face.

momo sucks your clit into her mouth and your knees buckle. you're afraid of suffocating her but she shares none of the same concern. arms pulling you down as you try to pull away, licking and suckling.

you look directly into the camera she has set up in front of you, imagining how messed up your hair was, how utterly ruined you looked.

momo's hands are on your ass, pulling you down still, but she lands a slap, the sound echoing throughout the empty photo studio.

you yelp, gushing into her mouth. she happily drinks it up, spanking you again.

the ripple of your cheeks must be captured on the camera behind you, maybe if momo had the quality settings right, it could even see the slick flowing from your cunt into momo's mouth, onto her tongue.

you can't bear to look into the camera anymore, eyes drifting down to momo's chest.

god you could finally see her. pretty dusk-coloured peaks sitting on top of the breasts you'd only be able to conjure up in your wettest dreams. her abs flex as she huffs with effort, making sure not to let a single drop of you go to waste, working efficiently and thoroughly at your pussy, licking into every wall, every corner. her cunt glistens, you notice her thighs rubbing together and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. you do it anyway but only because momo has her tongue inside you, hits a spot that has you seeing stars.

you test her, placing a little more weight on her face. she moans eagerly around you, pulling you down further.

satisfied she can hold you up, you shift your weight onto one hand, the other tracing down momo's chest, circling a nipple.

momo groans, vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure up your core.

you grasp the flesh, squezzing as her tit spills out between your fingers. momo bucks her hips, almost shakes you off of her, but her grip on your ass is tight, she wouldn't be letting you go until you came all over her tongue.

you're still moaning uncontrollably when you lean down, still groping a tit, pressing your own chest against her abs that feel absolutely heavenly flexing under your nipples, rubbing and moving giving just the barest amount of friction that drove you insane.

you grip her thighs, resting the front of your body on hers so you could part them, licking your lips at the sight that greeted you.

her cunt was pulsating. clenching around nothing, slick dribbling out of her. she talked so much but she was just as turned on as you. you planned on giving her what she was too proud to ask for.

you dive in.

momo moans into your cunt, hips rocking up before you push her back down, lapping at her pussy.

she tastes divine. otherworldly. salty and sweet, uniquely hers, just like everything else about her was uniquely hers. momo's grunting and moaning so prettily, and you're cleaning her up, even while she continues making a mess, you know you're not much better.

you grind down against her while she rocks up into you, chasing your highs. you find her clit, sucking, reveling in the moan she sends through your body, not wanting to be beat, she doubles down, growing almost overly aggressive as she sends another slap down on your cheeks when you're least expecting it.

you can't hear each other, can't scream out the curses, her name, all you can do is grind and moan and suck.

the blinking red dot of the camera gets it all. every brush of nipples against stomach, every flick of tongue, every squeeze of ass.

it doesn't take much longer.

not when she just keeps sucking. you're sure she could draw your pussy by now, that she's memorised it all. you could probably draw hers.

your back arches as you cum, and you make sure she falls apart at the same time, massaging her thighs as she writhes and cums, whining into your pussy, drunk off your taste.

you roll off of her before she can get you going again, lying on your back, your elbows pushing you up as you finally get a look at her.

she's covered in you. huffing, throwing her head back to breathe, cum dribbling down her chin. you can't help but crawl towards her, licking it up, towards her lips.

she lets you kiss her, still catching her breath as she pants into your mouth, the taste of the both of you mixing on your tongues.

you break away, licking your lips and wiping your chin.

momo grins lazily, "i think we got some good content."

you snort, "you think?"

"mhmmm. mina will definitely be happy."

your eyes widen, "you're not showing these tapes to myoui mina?!"

"and to sana. she asked for them."

your mouth falls open, gaping dumbly at her while she laughs, patting your cheek.

"let me know if you ever need any shots done. i'll be happy to help. i'll send you the tapes too once it's edited." she winks, wobbling back up and going to check the footage.

you stare after her, still in disbelief that the three of them really were in kahoots this whole time. and then the self-consciousness hits. they were going to watch those tapes. they were probably going to cum to those tapes.

just what the hell kinda industry did you get yourself into?

#momo #twice momo #hirai momo #momo x reader #twice momo x reader #hirai momo x reader #momo smut #twice momo smut #hirai momo smut #twice x reader #twice imagines #momo imagines #twice smut #dovveri

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stellar-skyy · 10 months ago

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FAMILY (OF SORTS) — Platonic Fatui Harbingers & reader.

i. SUMMARY: The Fatui Harbingers have a soft spot for Arlecchino's child. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: None! iii. NOTES: STRICTLY PLATONIC, headcanons, fluff, parent!arlecchino, house of the hearth!reader, all of the harbingers are reader's weird aunts and uncles, gn!reader, they/them pronouns used, 1.6k words. iv. A/N: the fatui are just a dysfunctional found family and i will die on this hill. shoutout to @romaritimeharbor for listening to my rambles about this idea 🫶🫶 also pierro and pulcinella aren't here because i could not think of anything to write for them :')

All of the harbingers knew about Arlecchino’s child; the one that appeared in Fatui Headquarters stuck to her side, eyes cast to the floor. They all saw the way that Arlecchino had held a soft grip on their shoulder, guiding them through the halls with the gentle touch of a parent from the gentle hands of a monster.

The Knave always swore she didn’t play favourites, but from an outside view it was clear that they held a special place separate from the rest. Anyone could see the way they appeared so much more frequently by her side. They were permitted to sit in on meetings, following her like a shadow. Some of the Harbingers guessed that she had picked them to be her successor; that their frequent shadowing was training them to take over once she was gone. Others joked about Arlecchino’s apparent soft side taking over. Whatever the reason, time went on, and the Fatui saw more and more of them.

All of them varied in their opinions of them—some indifferent, some fond—but the Harbingers all cared for them in their own ways.

⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Columbina simply adores them. They’re just so small and cute, so tiny and fragile! Admittedly, her idea of ‘tiny’ is rather skewed—applying to anyone she deems weaker than her (notably, this label also gets given to Capitano and Tartaglia, despite their larger size and physical strength. The Damselette is truly an enigma.)

Whenever Arlecchino allows her to watch over them, she is delighted. She has a penchant for pet names, so ‘angel’, ‘my sweet’, and ‘lovely’ are all more commonly used than their name. Sometimes there’s a ‘baby’ or ‘bub’ if she’s feeling particularly affectionate, but no matter the name, it is always dripping with sweetness. She’ll sing to them too, to calm them down or get them to sleep. Her voice is gentle, laced with as much love as she would show her own child.

Some Fatui believe Columbina is a woman formed from hollow sweetness; that behind the lazy smile and soft voice, lies a callous and unfeeling heart, but her insistence on singing them to sleep comes from a place of genuine affection.

When they have to return home, she’ll kiss their cheeks and sweep them into a hug, making them promise to visit her soon.

⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

The fact that Arlecchino would tear out his throat with her bare hands if he dared to look at them the wrong way is the only thing stopping Dottore from roping [Name] into one of his experiments. Even then, he can’t help but investigate them a bit. Nothing extreme—please put the knife down, Knave—just some simple trials to see how they work. A quick strength assessment, a test of their reflexes, enough to judge the effectiveness of the House of the Hearth’s training.

The segments all had different opinions of them, varying from Prime’s general indifference to some of the younger segments fondness towards them. The latter were less likely to try to trick them into the lab—not that Arlecchino would allow them anywhere near it without strict supervision—and instead focused their efforts on convincing them to help mess with the rest of the Dottores. They proved to be an excellent partner in crime to thoroughly ruin the older segment’s day.

Despite his assertion that he won’t harm them, Dottore tends to be the one Arlecchino trusts least around her child. His unwillingness to get on her bad side doesn’t stop her from insisting Columbina or herself accompany them whenever they visit his lab.

⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Tartaglia loves them. The days he gets to see his siblings are few and far between, so he’s always eager to play the older brother for them, and for any other House of the Heath kids that stop by. In fact, whenever any of the children visit, he makes sure to buy them plenty of sugary treats and candies before quickly sending them back to their Father.

(Arlecchino was not happy the first time this happened. It didn’t stop him from doing it every time, though.)

He was the first to convince them to call him Uncle, a feat that he bragged about to the rest of the Harbingers. This small incident would inadvertently lead to a petty competition to see who their favourite is, an event that would quickly spiral out of control with bribery and promises coming from all sides.

⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Sandrone is very particular with who she allows in her workshop. When the rare guest was allowed inside, they had to follow three simple rules: do not touch anything, do not move unless I tell you to, and do not talk to me while I work. When [Name] first stumbled into the room, she was prepared to discourteously shoo them out the way she did whenever Tartaglia poked his head in to see what she was working on. But after some extensive begging, she relented and sat them down in a corner to watch her work.

Even if she is far less fond of them as some of the other Harbingers, she still audibly squeaked the first time she was called Aunt Sandrone. This was covered up with a cough, but nothing could stop the warmth blooming in her chest. It was the first time a living creature had addressed her with such a familial title; some of her synthetic creations had a habit of calling her Mother, but this was a living, breathing person.

After they started calling her that, she quietly told them they were free to visit when she was working—provided they did not interfere with anything.

⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

As much as he denies it, Scaramouche has a big soft spot for kids. He’ll swear up and down that he doesn’t care for them at all, but he treats them noticeably gentler than he treats any other member of the Fatui. Arlecchino once caught them huddled against him, using his wide-brimmed hat to shelter from the rain. She never let him forget that moment—the fearsome Balladeer, who notoriously never let anyone close enough to touch him, allowing her child to use him as an umbrella.

They remind him a little too much of the young boy he once considered his family. Whenever he spends time with them, there is something inside that both urges him to protect them in the way he couldn’t protect that child, and warns keep them at arm’s length before they betray him too. But his endearment towards them prevailed, and he begrudgingly allowed them a place in his heart.

Unlike Columbina’s affectionate pet names, the only nicknames Scaramouche gives them are ‘kid’ and ‘brat’, depending on his mood. On good days, they might even get called by their name, though it is a rarity. He cares for them, truly. In his own, strange way.

⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Capitano is the best at giving advice out of all the harbingers. He is much more down to earth than Columbina and Dottore, and far less cynical than Scaramouche and Sandrone. He’ll let them ramble about their frustrations freely before offering gentle suggestions on what they should do to help. Even if they aren’t looking for a solution, he’s patient enough to hear out their thoughts, however jumbled and incoherent they may be.

He also likes teaching them skills he deems important for a young person to know. These include cooking—Tartaglia is not allowed to join them in these lessons after he almost burnt down the kitchen trying to ‘help’—as well as sewing and mending clothes.

⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Pantalone never would describe himself as parental. He never cared too much for kids; he hadn’t enough patience to deal with constantly crying babies or needy toddlers. Arlecchino’s child was thankfully far above that age, so they were less unbearable to deal with.

He was quite happy to spoil them with extravagant gifts and treats to win their favour, but the most effective way he does so is simply spending time with them. Trips to luxurious restaurants for lunch, allowing them to shadow him while he works. He also likes to give them advice—completely unasked for—about life, and relationships. Unlike Capitano however, his advice is of a much less helpful; he has a habit of advocating for blackmail for solving problems.

In exchange for a box of the most expensive pastries in Teyvat, he got them to call him their favourite uncle in front of Tartaglia. The miniscule dent in his funds was worth the look of betrayal on the younger Harbinger’s face.

⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Signora easily took the longest to warm up to them. When she first met them, it was easy enough to label them as Arlecchino’s brat and move them from her mind. But they kept appearing, in and around the headquarters. At first they were always glued to the Knave’s side, but eventually Signora began to see them wandering alone through the halls. She took note of them—not out of any attachment to them, only out of self-preservation knowing that if Arlecchino found out her child landed themself into trouble while she was close by, it would be her funeral soon.

The sense of obligation faltered when she started to grow fond of them. They were irritatingly innocent, a rarity within the Fatui. Something about the spark in their eyes reminded her of when she was young—when she still had warmth in her heart and blood in her veins. For the first time in centuries, her frozen heart began to thaw with care towards another person, and begrudgingly, she began to accept that they were not as unpleasant as she once believed.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

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curlyfriesgalore · 10 days ago

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headcanons of a

hibiscus-loving boy ♡

☆ requested by anon — my daisuke headcanons.

★ a long sfw & nsfw headcanons list with one-shot segments of solo! daisuke scenarios to start off the new year 🥳. [4,721 words]

☆ gen tags: fem! reader but reader isn't in his life (yet). the sfw takes place on earth and the tulpar, while all the nsfw is on the tulpar. before the crash (except it is mentioned in one headcanon). daisuke & his relationship with his parents. daisuke is single but very much wishes he could mingle. bits of silly stuff because it is daisuke, after all. someone please date him already... swansea is so sick of listening to him rave about "hot babes."

★ nsfw tags MDNI: malesub. dry humping objects. semi-public masturbation. daisuke uses a vibrator & flesh-light individually. mommy kink (as expected) and puppy kink (only mentioned though). lots of yearning for his dream girl and fantasies of women in general. (could it be you? 🫣)

[anon, thank you so much and i hope you liked this! on another note, i'm working on a long fluffy daisuke x reader oneshot, so you guys will get that wholesome content eventually. also, i forgot that daisuke was probably canonically bunking with swansea but... for the sake of this and daisuke's dignity, he gets his own room lol. —iris🌠]

sfw.

★ earth.

this isn't a set headcanon of mine, but i like to think that daisuke is a japanese and filipino man who grew up in hawaii but doesn't go home to his respective countries often. when he does, it's always a long catch-up with his large extended family, whom he misses dearly.

he gives off the energy of a single child solely raised by his first-generation immigrant parents, both of whom want the best for daisuke's future but struggle to show that in a constructive manner.

he has a relatively solid relationship with them, and their arguments are still within the realm of what is expected of families. however, there's a degree of emotional distance between him and his parents, especially with his mom who's a bit firmer on daisuke's education than his dad, who still cares about it just as much, but he's more reserved compared to his wife—the outspoken of the two.

with how they both work full-time and how he grew up with a vastly different upbringing from them, daisuke doesn't feel as close to his parents as he thinks he should. sometimes, they don't understand him, like his incessant love for thrifting and doodle-drawing, and sometimes, he can't understand them, like their insistence on getting him into an ivy league college when a public university works just fine (according to him).

daisuke is much more fluent in tagalog than he is in japanese, which his mom pesters him to study more, fearing that he'll struggle to pass down his knowledge of her lineage to his future kids properly.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"tch, and how will they know how to speak to their obaachan, hah? it's not that hard to practice every morning, dai-dai." his mom sighs, one hand clutching the strap of her kinkachu bag while the other held a bottle of olive oil.

daisuke withheld a groan, grumbling to himself before responding, "i knowww, ma, i know. i'm just busy, okay?" his forearms fold over the trolley's handle, bringing his chin to rest on top of them.

she glares, "busy playing with your gameboy? you call that busy?"

without consciously intending to, he rolls his eyes, then swiftly snaps them back in place. cringing at himself as he purses his lips, a pathetic whisper of sorry leaves his clenching teeth.

before he knows it, his mom is scoffing. she squints at him with her brows furrowed, her gaping mouth quirking to one corner, and shakes her head in disbelief, bee-lining to the next thing on their grocery list.

"eh?! mama, i didn't mean to!" daisuke quickly splurges a cacophony of apologies as he pushes the cart, trying to keep up with his mom.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

other than that, his parents genuinely love him, as much as they begrudgingly listen to his endless rambles which they barely understand because of how all over the place his retellings can be.

daisuke always finds ways to interject his current story with another story that relates to the initial story, which he must explain in excruciating detail, or else they won't get the references he'll make when he continues the first story! so they just sigh and nod their head. (it's even worse for his dad when daisuke starts using english slang that's far too modern for his head to translate in real-time).

his parents have considered a second child. however, the financial burden, emotional weight, and physical pain from vaginal burns or cesarean scars that they'd have to repeat were too much. one sugar-charged chatterbox of a kid was enough for their lifetime.

daisuke wasn't always sure about what he wanted to do in life. his mind had always been glued to his dreams of traveling beaches around the world, flirting with pretty girls with a piña colada in hand, sifting through vintage pieces, and finding a girlfriend who loves him enough to want to do the same! but even then, he didn't know how to get to that point. of course, the simple answer was money, but how he'll get that money was what spun at the forefront and lingered at the back of his mind.

though, this is daisuke we're talking about, he's sure this'll work out one way or another!

"girls like smart guys, right?" he'd ask himself as he browsed through a leaflet listing all the STEM subjects his mom had circled in neon red ink. daisuke's eyes drift to the arts and humanities page, wincing at the sheer lack of majors highlighted on that side—it was next to none. save for architecture, which his mom suggested he should try because of his drawing hobby, but, truth be told, it was just a hobby for him.

he loved the freedom of art, especially doodling. it was a space for him to explore whatever wacky design popped into his mind. he'd look at a simple object, darting his eyes to several others, and merge it all into a story of sorts. whether it be a turtle-pig fishing for sentient crackers on a wooden boat or an intergalactic wasteland where sweets colonized spices, it was his favorite pasttime. so, the possibility of having that be ruined by conforming to another person's rules and regulations wasn't for him.

he once suggested studying fashion. assorting clothing pieces, designing looks, and learning its history was a genuine passion of his, but one look at his parents' faces was enough for him to quickly drop it.

daisuke has fixed cars in the past—not fully, but he's helped his dad and a couple of neighbors for some extra dough, and has managed to learn a thing or two.

he was pretty good at math and physics, preferring the latter of the two because he actually got to apply that math into scenarios much more interesting than 'find the radius of a hemisphere of volume 80 cm^3.'

so, when daisuke's mom learns of pony express' last-minute aerospace mechanic internship, she's ecstatic, excitedly telling him to prepare his resume because her son is going to space! after all, her boy got the brains for it.

daisuke genuinely looked forward to this opportunity as well. however, funnily enough, he was terrified of outer space. though he was weirdly okay with the unknown depths of the ocean, the galaxy? that was a different story. at least, if he were drowning in the sea, there was a higher chance of him surviving than choking out in space. he shivered at the thought.

nonetheless, daisuke focused on the positives. "holy shit, what if there are alien beaches with hot ALIEN babes?!"

however, his cv wasn't all that impressive by pony express' standards. so, out of sheer desperation, his mom used a couple of her connections to secure that spot for him, but daisuke doesn't know about this. he thinks his smarts alone got him the job.

she's so adamant about his education because she fears for him, like any parent would. she doesn't want daisuke to suffer financially the same way her and her husband did growing up—it was her nightmare, actually. so, hopefully, with enough prayer and preparation, this will benefit him greatly. (oh... if only she knew).

before his space trip, daisuke's dad treated them all to a 5-day family holiday out in california, letting daisuke choose most of the activities, aka revel in his inner child via arcades and amusement parks. he actually made 2 friends, both in separate places, who'd accompany him whenever his parents got too tired from walking or couldn't bare the insane waiting lines (which was 90% of the time).

his dad had been secretly saving for this ever since daisuke was a kid, wanting to give his son the best birthday an 18-year-old could ever want.

while they've gotten richer over the years, his dad constantly struggled to feel secure in their wealth, feeling as though they could lose it at any time like his family had back then.

★ the tulpar.

upon arriving, daisuke didn't realize that he was a very late addition to the team. he noticed a slight hesitancy in everyone, which made him feel awkward, but in classic daisuke fashion, he shrugged it off and tried his best to get on everyone's good side.

(he definitely vomitted in his mouth soon after take-off).

daisuke quickly befriended everyone. the easiest was curly. he was the captain, after all, and the friendliest and handsomemest boss he'd ever met. even though it was pretty obvious that curly initially tensed at the lack of proper planning from pony express' end, he soon forgot it when daisuke eased into the crew just fine, impressed with how optimistic he'd been.

then, it was anya, who was a little quiet at first, but when she got used to his chipper nature, she had no trouble giggling with daisuke. she's glad to have someone other than curly to have fun with during their game nights, and even curly wasn't the easiest to play with because of how frequently he'd doze off in between turns, drool already dripping down his light beard. so, daisuke was a massively fresh change. he was energized and dramatic, passionately involving himself in the game and sneakily cheating whenever anya was getting a little too close to winning.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

curly called out for anya, asking where she had put his sleeping medication. anya lifted her view off of the board, her finger still holding her chin, and turned to curly, whom she gave instructions to.

daisuke and anya sat on the ground in front of the lounge couch, which swansea sprawled himself on—arms folded over his belly—as he dozed to sleep, his quiet snore growing louder by the minute. daisuke looked at anya, who was now bantering back and forth with their captain, and a mischievous grin inched up his cheeks.

with a very "inconspicuous" whistle, daisuke swiftly switched the positions of her queen and his bishop, shifting his eyes everywhere to ensure no one had seen the evil he'd done.

as anya's laugh died down and brought her focus back to the game, she moved her knight to somewhere on the board, not noticing the changes. then, as ego fueled his chest, daisuke took out her king.

"check and mate, anya." he proudly smiled, flipping his hair. he flicked open his fingers and spread his arms away from the table, figuratively dropping an explosive as he mouthed a boom.

"WHAT?!" anya exclaimed, her brows knit up her forehead as she scrutinized the chess pieces.

swansea snorted awake, startled by the sudden noise. "hah?! oh, what...? wh-what happened, where were we?"

bemusement painted her face when she realized what had happened. she pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes at the cheater and pointed at daisuke, wagging her finger, "you did something, didn't you?"

daisuke stifled his laugh, remaining nonchalant and poker-faced as he shrugged. "i have no idea what you're talking about."

anya and daisuke just "argued." anya flailed her arms at the monochrome pieces, while daisuke found it increasingly hard not to burst into chuckles.

swansea lifted his back off the sofa, his spine resounding with a loud pop. in his neutral grumble, he said, "looks like daisuke won fair and square to me." then he went back to napping, flopping his neck onto the headrest.

anya was gagged, feeling like she'd gone crazy, so, daisuke finally cracked and cackled, falling to his side as he smacked the floor with tears in his eyes.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

surprisingly enough, it was jimmy with whom he got on good terms with next. well, good enough terms with. they rarely ever talked. their conversations were limited to offhand encounters if they were the only ones near each other, where daisuke asked simple things about his life, followed by jimmy's cold hum.

so, as to not make things awkward, majority of what they discussed related to the tulpar and its workings. (jimmy secretly enjoyed it, though, feeling like he was more important than curly because daisuke would go to him for these types of questions, besides swansea. even though, the reality was that daisuke liked curly way more for how much he could joke around and still found room for professionalism.)

then, there was swansea. daisuke's favorite person, and his one and only mentor!

it felt nice for him to hang out with someone like his parents, except he was more wrinkly, irritable, and meaner than them. sometimes swansea's jabs can sting, but daisuke knows he means well. (then again, daisuke feels that way about everyone, and he's not sure whether that's a good or bad thing.)

despite his clumsiness and how often his mind drifts off to fantasies of breathing in tropical air with bikini-clad ladies surrounding him, he's learned so much from swansea.

it's not just about mechanics, but about life, his experiences and what all the good, bad, and ugly mean to him. without giving too much away about what he's been through, daisuke still managed to infer a couple of things.

albeit, he can be hard to understand. while swansea's advice is straightforward, he is in a descriptively convoulted way. so daisuke could only fully process it when he's lounging on the couch with swansea, taking in every word and, for once in his life, shutting up—which has only happened a couple of times, but hey, who says daisuke can't maneuver his way for more?

he hopes swansea will write him an extensive letter of recommendation and not mention all the times he's given him the wrong wrench, that one foam incident, or his ramblings of how he lowkey highkey wants to be a model, to which swansea would slowly blink at him for.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"you want to be a model? for what?" swansea inquires, standing with crossed arms as he watches over daisuke adjusting a screw.

"well, you know, for fashion! getting all dressed up n' stuff, my picture being taken as i pose for the camera." daisuke momentarily stopped twisting the bolt and posed for swansea, smoldering as he folded his arms, definitely not imitating the old man.

swansea just rolled his eyes and told him to get back to work, putting his hands in his pockets instead. "so why'd you pick fixing metal junk instead?"

daisuke paused, ruminating on his following words. "i dunno, my parents want me to be an engineer, which is, like, super cool and all! and i do want to be one... it's just, it'd be nice to try other things i'm good at and see where they'll go, you know? you get me, right, swansea?" he went back to fidgeting with the pipe.

swansea stood there, softly nodding to himself. "i mean, they have a point—torx, kid, not hex," swansea pointed at the other screwdriver in the toolbox next to daisuke, "they don't want you risking unstable work and have no means of supporting yourself."

daisuke ate his lips, and swansea could see him grow smaller by the second. he sighed, "but, i'm not saying that you can't pursue that. you should, at some point, but my daughter's done it before, and she says it's not an easy world—"

"she's done whAT?!" daisuke brightened, nearly dropping the screw in his hand.

"did you even hear a thing i said?" swansea frowned, instinctively crouching down to cup his hand under where the bolt almost slipped.

daisuke nodded, "yeah, yeah, i know, but that is so cool! omg, can she hook me onto some agencies? does she know any? please, swan—!"

"slow down, kid..." swansea unintentionally chuckled, pulling the tool in daisuke's hand back to the pipe. he shook his head and actually smiled, albeit small. it nearly made daisuke even more happy than he was about the news.

"look, like she said, it's not all fun and games but it is possible to be successful. you've just got to be serious, like you should be..." he taps on the metal, "...here."

"okayyyy..." daisuke heaved, defeated by the present realities.

there was a beat of silence. swansea stretched his neck from shoulder to shoulder and spoke, "...but when we get back to earth, i'll try talking to her, 'kay? now, finish up; you've already been taking long as it is."

daisuke excitedly bobbed his head, saluted him, and returned to his task.

★ extras.

daisuke secretly holds 'runway shows' in his room, walking from one end to the other as he stuns his imaginary audience with all of his hawaiian tees.

no one knows this, but he often draws himself with his dream girl (aka you, heehee). there are so, so many pretty portraits of her. you can truly see the effort he's put in these with every graphite stroke and his smudged fingerprint dented into the paper.

brought so many rings and earrings on board, only to wear the same ones every day 💀.

he enjoys a lot of music genres but predominantly loves pop. i like to think that the game takes place in the retrofuturistic 1990s, so daisuke listens to a lot of sir mix-a-lot and backstreet boys. he probably plays 'livin' la vida loca' on repeat when he's cleaning up foam with swansea.

would not be surprised if he has played every pokemon game on his gameboy.

his sleeping quarters are near swansea's, so... you can imagine how quiet he needs to be when he "relieves" himself (which makes the nsfw section even more embarrassing for daisuke, lmfao).

nsfw.

when daisuke finally realized that he would be alone.. in a room... in a spaceship... for a year... with no parents there to barge in, he tried so fucking hard to hold back the devilish smile crawling up his mouth (think knee surgery grinch). oooof course, he was going to abuse the living shit out of this freedom.

as told by swansea, daisuke "only thinks with his downstairs longnose." so, it's safe to say that he frequently masturbates, to no one's surprise 💀.

however, he needs the physical visual of something to really get off. he can still cum without it. but, as much as daisuke enjoys his fantasies of paradise, it takes an excruciatingly long time, and it never feels as good when he orgasms.

(if mouthwashing took place in our year, he definitely gets super turned on by nsfw audios. stuff like 'F4M gentle mommy praises you' would absolutely be his go-to genre.)

so he brought a portable tv and vhs player, secretly stashing all his favorite porn mags and cassette tapes, along with some new ones he's been dying to watch. the majority are vanilla, with a few bordering on bdsm, a couple of threesomes (it didn't really matter to him if they were FFM or MMF), and solo girls touching themselves as they tell him to follow their instructions, but a lot of them had an overt femdom feel, save for a few.

he tends to jerk off really fast and struggles to pace himself in a way where he doesn't greedily let himself reach his high, so closing his eyes as he listens to porn helps him extend that to a little close to 20 minutes. otherwise, this guy is done in maybe under 4—7 if he's lucky.

(unsurprisingly, he once came in less than 30 seconds from just teasing his tip. he got so embarrassed that he hid himself under the covers, shoving his face into the pillow, for being so pathetically easy).

even then, he can go so many rounds. when there's nothing much to do on the ship, and everyone was too involved in their own business to pay attention to him, he's had a few times where he used 3 of his 5 resting hours just jerking off back-to-back.

no matter how he toys with his dick, he'd always end up an adorable whimpering mess. he was naturally sensitive; pools of pre-cum would easily drip out of his tip after a few strokes, and his thighs would involuntarily shudder with each pump. however, that meant his moans would become so unbelievably loud that his whines could carry through the thickest of walls—unsurprisingly, very in-character for daisuke.

so he's grown used to muffling his mouth moments before he cums. either his palm pressed over his panting parted lips, or he'd resort to smushing his face into his pillows whenever it overwhelmed every inch of his body.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

daisuke lay on his side. with one hand tucked under his cheek, gripping strands of his hair, and the other vigorously milking his cock from base to tip, his half-naked body trembled on his bed. the patterned covers sprawled away from the beaded sweat rolling off his inner thighs, and all that filled the air were daisuke's desperate, high-pitched gasps.

a rising heat inched within his abdomen, and his wrist spasmed as every jerk reached speeds unbeknownst to him. daisuke pathetically attempted to smother whatever incoherent mewls escaped his throat, biting down on the skin of his lightly chapped lips, but it was futile. he was starting to lose it.

so, he rolls. he rolls his face into his pillow and props his knees on the mattress, brandishing his ass in the air with his back arched towards the tulpar's metal ceiling.

hoping he's suppressed himself enough, daisuke began whimpering out loud, cushioning his cries as he touched himself as fast as his slippery penis would let him. a list of curses fled his lips as he tried visualizing someone hover over him, grabbing hold of his drenched dick, pinning his head further into the pillow, and whisper sweet nothings into his ear.

after a couple of twists of his tip, he finally spilled all over the bed, his drool following suit. his cock twitched upwards, lathering bits of his cum all over his stomach, and with one final huff, daisuke dropped himself onto the mattress, sighing into its warmth—too dazed to notice the subdued thumping of footsteps beyond his door.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

he hasn't gotten the opportunity to have sex yet, nor has he charmed anyone enough to get his dick sucked or touched, but he was very close to it!

once, at a party, daisuke got to make out with a girl from his last year in high school, but this guy would not stop talking after each kiss. all that came out of his mouth were the awkwardest of one-liners and rambles full of compliments. while he thought it was cute, the girl quickly got annoyed. after a few more heated swaps of spit, she left the closet they were in, and daisuke just stood there, embarrassed, stuffing his face in some random person's sweater.

though it was only one failed (but he likes to think it was successful) make-out sesh, he loves the act of it so much. the feeling of a girl pressing him up against the wall, no matter how tall or short she was, clutching onto his shirt as their tongues deepened. the thought of their crotches sliding against one another got him all hot and bothered.

but, admittedly, daisuke wished she stayed (not necessarily the same girl in particular) because he loved the idea of him yapping continuously about something as she touched him more and more, latching her teeth onto his neck as her fingers rubbed circles on his bulge. he'd falter, his words blending into an incoherent whimpery mush as she lifted up his shirt and made her way down his collarbone.

oh, how he fantasizes about receiving and giving hickeys. he'll abide by how his dream girl would want to be bitten down, but he wanted to be marked.

daisuke's always been super into teethy indentations on his stomach and darkened spots scattered all over his chest. so he's practiced on his forearm, watching his saliva coat his bite, imagining how prickly it'd feel on his neck. but what he loves most is its meaning, how it symbolizes that he belonged to a girl and she belonged to him. it always made him feel warm and gushy inside.

lowkey feel like he enjoys dry-humping objects. if he sees a soft enough edge with ridges all over or a pillow that's looking softer than it should, he's rutting his clothed dick against it. but because of that, he gets incredibly horny when he starts focusing a little too much on the corner of any table.

anya once had to snap him back into reality after he intently watched jimmy put his back against a particular part of the kitchen counter. daisuke's face flushed, remembering last night.

he had to take his time thrusting his wet bulge against it. standing on his tip-toes, swaying his hips like a seesaw, as he grips the bottom of the counter for stability, for he was losing it. the way his cum would build up was so different from jerking off. it felt like rushing water pushing against a dam, but it was slow, like waves on a shore inching closer to his feet. this would make him cry, and he'd constantly moan in hiccups, short bursts of suppressed whimpers because of how much effort this took. however, he makes sure his mess stays in his pants. so, when he does cum, it would only paint a large stroke over his boxers as his semen dripped all the way down to his knee.

daisuke brought a vibrator and fleshlight on board, which he bought using some of his earnings from the cars he fixed back on earth.

he fucks his fleshlight like a rabbit when topping, depriving himself from all thought as he picks up the pace. but when he's bottoming, he starts lifting his legs off the ground and spreads them in the air, sending his brain over the moon.

when he tried the vibrator for the first time, it's like he entered a whole new realm. he fantasizes being on his stomach, arching his back with his ass in the air, his dick dangling in between his thighs as a girl mercilessly presses a vibrator up against his parts—cumming a messy puddle into his sheets. even though he could still do it on his own, the thought of anyone on laundry duty questioning the large wet stain was too embarrassing to bear.

it's ironic, considering how much he's into risky semi-public quickies. when he gets so pent up in the middle of organizing tool boxes and listening to swansea's rants, he will excuse himself to go to the bathroom. swansea would just roll his eyes and go, "yeah, yeah. do whatever you want, kid. just don't take forever." whether or not swansea actually knew what he was really doing, daisuke will never know—and, frankly, he'd much rather not.

he'd play with himself, alone. running to the tools closet with his back against the door, hand shoved into his boxers, his slick coating his palm as he clutched his shirt, using it as a fabric muffle for his shakey moans, revealing his heaving chest and hardened nipples. his eyes squeeze shut as his eyebrows knit in ecstasy.

(when the crash happens and he's forced to sleep in the lounge, he often scurries away to empty areas around the tulpar when swansea is too drunk out of his mind to notice daisuke's random disappearances.)

while he's not exactly sure where his mommy thing came from (don't look into that too deeply), he really indulges himself in it. he likes to re-enact his sexual scenarios when he touches himself, saying his lines out loud as if the person he was imagining were with him. he'd whine for mommy to let him cum, and when he got real close, he'd call himself a good boy like it were a mantra.

do you guys think he might like being called 'puppy'? i think it's very likely. he reads as the type of person who thrives off praise and massively enjoys any petname a person could give him.

i think he fantasizes about a bunch of women using him instead of him using women, which is what horny guys his age probably think of more often. but no, daisuke finds it so fucking hot to be used like a toy by more than one person, not knowing what pleasure he'll feel next.

but he's unsure if he would actually like that to happen in real life. sure, it gets his gears going, but he knows he'd be good with his one and only (hypothetical and future) girlfriend doing whatever she wants to him.

[i'm not sure if anyone could tell, but i got pretty lazy towards the end 🫠 if there are any scenarios that you want me to expand into single one-shots then feel free to request! so far, i have two other reqs and 3 original works, so it might take a while, especially because i have irl things to work on. —iris🌠]

#🌠 leads to my masterlist #i dont think these are all my headcanons but i'll save some for later one-shots #oh fuck i forgot he does baseball #OOPS #daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke x reader #mouthwashing #mouthwashing x reader #swansea mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #btw i posted this before and it was so glitchy??? every time i saved the line break would push itself down #if that makes sense #and tags were not working 😭

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cor-lapis-candy · 2 months ago

Text

Hear me out, Dottore, experiment with everything once, make an experiment out of sex and not tell you till you see a document with a hypothesis and conclusion after he asked you to try something out with him or his segments, Dottore who I believe whole heartedly that if his partner had a chronic illness would use and experiment on the limits of it.

Say chronic fatigue, a partner that sleeps and sleeps, deep and long no matter how long or short they have been awake, leading him to experiment and mayyyybe development a sleeping beauty kink.

This is about somnophilia and technically CNC as he asks but your already half into sleep, so if someone getting down and dirty with a sleeping person is not your thing don't click the read more.

This is your ⚠️ warning ⚠️.

The cool wood of the desk next to the observation area of Dottore, segments coming and going between the sterile zone and the small area that holds sheets of paper and other documentation for whatever was going on in the room at that small window looked into.

Prime, your partner and lover is standing next to you watching the experiment with a cold indifference that some might take for displeasure if they didn't know him, but as you blink sluggishly at him you can see the curiosity and eager attention to the experiment clear as day.

When he turns to look at you, sliding his mask off and pushing his hair back out of his face, that curiosity becomes all about you, the sleepy, slumped over human that was covered by his harbinger cloak, the fluffy collar almost swallowing your head and cushions you from the hard wood.

The sight brews an idea, just how far could be push when you fell asleep...

He had asked you if he could test something as you were dozing off and the muffled response was affirmative sounding, so once you were down and out he had his segments end the experiment and ran a full sanitation of the lab, it was loud, unbearably loud and yet you didn't even react more than a flinch and mumble before nuzzling into the fluff of his coat.

Following the full sanitation he had one of his segments move you into the lab area, making sure to keep the coat you had wrapped around yourself under your head as he had you laid out on the examination slab.

There are multiple hands tugging and pulling clothes out of the way, there are stops and starts as he thinks sometimes you will wake, making internal notes of what makes you mumble or twitch as his segments finally get you naked and somewhat in position on the slab.

He has each segment run a different task, one is pinching and rolling your nipples with his bare hands, another is kissing and gently gnawing on your neck, the third and final is kneeling on the slab between your legs fingers lubed up and working to slowly open you up.

It's fascinating to watch as his segments manage to get your sleeping form so worked up, lube only being added periodically in small amounts instead of larger more consistent applications, the segment playing with your chest is almost as fervent in marking your chest and collarbones as the one that had changed to kissing and tugging on your earlobes?

Regardless of his segments own proclivities, all of them were still unsuccessful at waking you, your sleep seemed so deep and peaceful that even as he orders the segment that is four fingers deep in you to pull away and find something else to test on your body you do not wake.

Taking the place of his segment, he settles on his knees between your legs, grunting about his coats clasps and the need to undo them for this, once he is able to free himself it's simple to get a segment to lube him up and hold your legs apart as he shuffled closer and eases himself in, sighing happily as his head tilts back and his hips jerk as you tighten around him.

It's a good few minutes into what had devolved into a mess of segments pushing each other out of the way to grope at you, and Dottore prime fucking away between your legs, already having cum twice but downed a small experiment that he had saved for a rainy day to keep himself going, that you begin to wake.

Mouth full of one of the segments and hands cupping one segment each, your neck a mess of bites, hickies, saliva and bruises that lead down to a just as marked up chest, it's disorienting to come back too waking as you groan around the cock in your mouth, swallowing thickly and breathing through your nose as you can barely hear Dottore prime speak up his hips still snapping against yours with a filthy wet squelching sound.

"well now that you're awake, it's time to put some more theories to the test... Now be a good dear and just keep still."

#genshin smut #genshin impact smut #dottore x you #dottore smut #il dottore smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #dottore x reader #corposting

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felassan · 21 days ago

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David Gaider: "It occurs to me, after reading posts getting it spectacularly wrong, that there are a lot of misconceptions over how game studios organize and, in particular, who makes the actual decisions about what ends up in your game. Much of it is by folks who don't *try* to get it... but not all, surely. I'll explain it a bit, but a big caveat: I'm going to talk in generalities and roles. Actual titles vary (a lot) from studio and studio, and the bigger a studio is the more segmented their departments (and thus management) is going to be. Even so, most studios, big and small, kind of work the same. To start, you're going to break your devs up into at least three groups: design (what is the game? how does it work?), art (what will it look like?), and engineering (making it go). There can be a lot of cross-over and some departments that don't fit into a project structure (QA, Marketing, etc.)"

Rest of post under cut due to length.

"There's going to be someone in charge of these groups - these are usually called "leads" or "senior leads". The actual title varies. The Design Lead could be a Lead Designer, for instance, or it could be a Creative Director and a Lead Designer is what they call someone further down the chain."

"These leads all report to a Project Director, someone who's job it is to manage the project as a whole. Now, this part gets a little dicey. Depending on the studio, this role can be anything from more production-oriented (they control the schedule) to an outright auteur who micro-manages everything."

"More importantly, it's the PD who hands down the project goals to the Leads: the strategic goals, the needed features, the shape of it all, etc. The Leads then figure out how their department is going to tackle those, and work with each other. If the Leads conflict, it's the PD's role to solve it. How much autonomy or ownership those Leads have is, like I said, really up to the individual PD and that studio's culture. Even in the case of a PD who has a lot of authority over the project, however, they still report to the studio leadership (unless it's the same person, like in a small studio)."

"The studio leadership is going to be giving the PD their marching orders, often in the form of those strategic goals. If there's a publisher involved, that's where the studio leadership is likely getting those goals. The PD, then, ends up being the person who has to negotiate with everyone above."

"What does this mean? If the studio or publisher has concerns about the project, they're calling in the PD to explain. If the project needs more time or resources, it's on the PD to explain to them why and how and when. If there are a lot of layers above the PD... yes, it's a looot of meetings. So while the PD is managing up, the Leads are managing down. With big projects, that means managing the "sub-leads"... those in charge of the individual sections of their department. It'd be unmanageable otherwise, and the bigger the project the more of these there are going to be."

"What does this mean? Well, let's look at the way BioWare broke up Design (as of 8 years ago, anyhow). Design consisted of Narrative Design, Level Design, Systems Design, Gameplay Design, and Cinematic Design (who worked in tandem with Cinematic Animation, which actually fell under the Art Lead)."

"The sub-leads are handed their goals by the lead, and work out how they're going to produce their particular corner of the game and also, more importantly, how they're going to work with each other. Conflicts between sub-leads are handled by the lead, as are ANY conflicts with other departments. What conflicts could there be, you ask? Dependencies, for one. "I can't do X until Y is done, but Y is someone else's job". Or scope. "We need 20 doodads but the sub-lead said they only have time to make 10, what now?". Even outright differences in vision. Big projects means room for a LOT of egos. If you think this is easier with a smaller (or indie) project, the answer is "yes, but not really". The roles are still necessary but often get combined into one person. Or outsourced, and someone still needs to manage the outsourcing. Things fall off over-full plates. It's a different kind of hard. Anyhow, the point of all this is: the further you go down the chain, the smaller the box you can play in is. The less you have actual say over, and even then that say is subject to being overridden by ANYONE above... and must still play nicely with the needs and goals of the other departments. You also need to keep in mind that projects are constantly in flux. Problems that were thought solved need re-solving. The team falls behind schedule and scope needs to change. You are constantly in a dance, within your tiny box, trying to figure out sub-optimal solutions that cause the least pain. And there will be pain. Shit rolls downhill, as they say, and when the project encounters big issues that means those high up have the sad job of figuring out how to spread it out and who can afford to take the hardest hit. If you're that one, you take it on the chin and you deal. This is the job. Lastly, I'll re-iterate: not every studio works this way, exactly. The roles exist, sure, but are not divided up so neatly or as easily identifiable. Even so, this should give you an idea what "lead" and "sub-lead" mean... and perhaps help you imagine what it's like existing further down the chain."

[source thread]

#bioware #video games #long post #longpost #dragon age #mass effect

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verdantwyrm · 16 days ago

Text

Anya, The Virgin Mary or the Vengeful Bitch

Or, shorthandedly, the Anyalysis.

I'm going to be occasionally stealing some points from my Curly thread over here, which you should absolutely also read. And also some segments from here, my small analysis of Jimmy and him being a monster vs choosing to be.

This analysis will be going over partially some of how she's treated in-game, but also how she's treated outside of the game as a representation of sexual assault and abuse victims, which is to either make her a mournful, bleeding heart virgin Mary, or a vengeful, final girl that's a violent, hysterical she-bitch. Which she is neither.

I think it's perfectly fine to orchestrate fictional characters killing their abusers, there's nothing inherently wrong with just that, it's more how people actually write it.

Just like any other trope, there are ways to go about it that are extremely harmful and ways that are generally inoffensive. As a victim myself, I personally see so many issues in wishing harm against your abuser, and there is nothing wrong with acting that out in characters you feel comfortable and relatable towards, but there are ways to do this that don't end up doing more harm than good— which is where most people fail. It's an objectively hard topic to address, because it requires nuance and understanding, possibly even lived experience to truly understand why someone would want this. Grieving, the absence that comes with being a victim, is not straightforward or black and white, it's an uncomfortable topic thats often on a spectrum of anger, grief or sadness that most people do not want to engage with because they have a very nearsighted opinion on how a victim should react– the perfect victim.

No one actually likes her as a character, they only like her for what she represents.

The Sexism of the Final Girl

I am sick and tired of people making up the realities in their heads where Anya overcomes Jimmy and kills him,

The trope of a "Final Girl" is not the feminist girl boss you want it to be and is incredibly misogynistic. The definition, as told by Wikipedia

"the final girl in many movies shares common characteristics: she is typically sexually unavailable or virginal, and avoids the vices of the victims like illegal drug use. She sometimes has a unisex name such as Avery, Chris, or Sidney."

There are feminist ideals and intentions behind it, but it is not inherently feminist as a concept and is often very misogynistic despite its intentions to display the woman of the group to be strong, better or uphold moral superiority for declining sex, drugs or any of the vices mentioned forehand. It is a sexist trope, and all it does is ridicule women for "falling" for said vices as if that inherently makes them inferior or deserving of murder or assault.

On the surface, the use of the final girl trope may seem like a progressive portrayal of feminist strength and ideology. It can be satisfying to see a strong, independent "girl boss" overcome an otherworldly predator or rapist. However, upon further examination, it is clear that this trope perpetuates prejudice and reinforces societal expectations for women. The final girl is typically portrayed as a straight, white, morally superior woman who abstains from "immoral" activities like drinking, drug usage and sex. She serves as a voice of reason and represents the ideal woman in our society.

Most importantly, she survives while those who deviate from societal norms face violent deaths. This trope is a subtle commentary on the expectations placed on women in our society - good girls will prevail while those who do not conform will suffer a violent and brutal death, usually at the hands of a man. Ultimately, it seeks to shame women for behaving in ways that are not considered "ladylike."

The film industry as a whole has a history of using females as vessels for pain and suffering. Hollywood loves to profit off of female suffering. These male directors may believe they are earning brownie points with audiences by having female survivors in their films, but in reality, they are simply using feminism as a disguise while indulging in the fetishization of female pain.

It is rather exhausting seeing who we are being reduced to one note Virgin Marys with bleeding hearts, scorned mothers or wounded victims of assault who will never recover, never love or never will have sex again. I do think Mouthwashing does an excellent job of telling the story of a rape victim, but how other people treat her beyond that, it's almost impossible to even have a character like Anya or even Angela from Silent Hill 2 without people stripping them and violating what their character is and instead of focusing on what they represent, a victim.

But back to Anya specifically, she does not even exert any interest, desire or want to murder or harm another person. People dehumanise her the same way Jimmy dehumanises her. They strip her of everything she could be, everything she wanted to be and make her out to be a perfect victim, a bleeding heart, a weak and pathetic woman.

How about Anya has a nice day, how about Anya smiles, and she's happy and safe. What about that? Huh? Or do you only like her when she's a victim. People care more about Anya being a victim they can save, a victim they can nurture and heal and rescue than anything else. They care more about her being weak, sad, frail and miserable. Always the mother, always the victim, always the virgin Mary and a sacrifice but never ever a woman and most definitely never a person.

It's even worse when I see people continuously writing and "re-imagining" Anya being Raped just so Curly, Daisuke, Swansea or even a self-insert reader situation to save her. I totally get that you want her to be happy, and to be rescued and for that to never happen but you severely miss the point of the story that there was no one there to save her. And constantly rewriting it to put a man in the favour of the situation comes off as very shallow and misogynistic the way you're all so ready to have someone rescue her like she's some distressed maiden in need of a big strong man, it also takes the point away from her entirely.

The horse that bites

Jimmy's constant dehumanisation of Anya affects how other people perceive her character as well, that she's weak, small or a crybaby in some sense because of how she responds to situations - emotionally, which is then amplified by Jimmy's pre-existing hatred and lack of respect for her.

Jimmy tears her down every chance he gets, makes her feel little and even compares her to Polle in his hallucinations. And Anya knows that he and Curly have a very lengthy history, so her caution and anxiety about even mentioning the incident, let alone saying the word “rape” is borderline impossible for her. It’s a manifestation, it’s a verbal acceptance and confession that it’s even happened. Something she has been trying to avoid coming to terms with.

And when she does eventually tell Swansea what happened, as much as you want to think she told him- she most likely told him to not do anything, to try and keep the peace for as long as possible.

Again, her vagueness is not her fault, nor is it her responsibility. It was Jimmy’s responsibility to not abuse and rape her.

It’s also very present that Jimmy is verbally abusive to her, putting her down at every opportunity by ignoring her very talented medical skills by saying Pony Express only hired her to cut corners in an attempt to reduce costs because she failed Medical School and that she’s not a “real nurse” because of that, and how he constantly questions her skills despite keeping Curly alive for such a long time in such a state.

After being insulted by him multiple times, she fawns to get him to actually do something beneficial because she knows he responds well to praise, and he complies, all while still insulting and belittling her for being "weak" and "sentimental"

Anya shows a clear fear of Jimmy and has consistent fawn responses around Jimmy. She is extremely careful not to make him upset and praises him to keep him amused and compliant to a degree.

Just like Anya says, our worst moments don't make us monsters. It's one thing to fuck up, and immediately suffer the consequences and acknowledge your mistakes— But it's another thing entirely to purposefully make it so you never have to deal with the repercussions and then make yourself out to be the victim. Jimmy takes every opportunity to blame everyone around him. All the time and Anya is no stranger to this.

Curly genuinely saw the good in Jimmy, in the same way, Anya sees the good in others and possibly even tried to see the good in Jimmy despite the pain as one of the key important things about how everything went about is that Anya never directly refers to her rapist as Jimmy, nor does she ever actually insult or talk badly about him, she only expresses her disinterest in talking to him because of his reluctance to cooperate with her. They both believe that our worst moments don't define us, and Curly had his own interpretation all of how we're defined by our past, but not slaves to it.

She is scared, she is terrified at this point and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that nor should we rush to change that. Her being scared is realistic, she is a scared lady in a very scary situation with an even scarier man who constantly switches between dissociation and lashing out depending on what's going on around him. And she is not that person to fight back, to be violent or to hurt him and that is perfectly fine. She doesn't need to be a girl boss feminist and fight back, she can just be a scared and quiet woman stuck in her own terror, and trying to infer that one Is the "better" option downplays victims who freeze in their own terror and makes them out to be weak or a hapless damsel because they're incapable of "standing up for themselves"

She has every single right to be absolutely terrified and that is in no way a bad thing. I actually really, really dislike the interpretation that Anya is angry, resentful or has any revenge towards Curly, or that she has to be this, hysterical mad woman sent out to kill or hurt Jimmy. I don't believe she's either of this. Anya deserves peace, and I think it's extremely important to understand just how similar she is to Curly. And I'm full of the belief that if Anya had actually done something to Jimmy (hurt him, kill him, whatever) she would be demonized and the misogyny she already faces in the fandom would be worse tenfold. Do not lie to yourself.

Not to even mention one of the many, many reasons as to why Anya OD'd in a room with a lock in the first place. It was to make sure Jimmy could never touch her again? Or do something awful to her body, even when it was lifeless and cold? It was to keep the gun safe, to protect Curly, to protect herself, to take control of the situation, to finally not have to worry about him ever touching her again. And Jimmy still violates it, even after she's dead.

He touches her, drags her body, and props her up in that chair. Even after death, she is never free from him. She thought she was going to finally be free of him, his rage, his desires, his touch, and she died thinking this, that he would never ever be touched or hurt by him ever again. She died thinking all was well, that it would all work out in the end, it had to. She died thinking Daisuke and Swansea would somehow make it out of there, tell her story, and make Jimmy face the consequences of his actions, it was the ultimate sacrifice, it was the greatest thing she could ever do.

Jimmy ruined her life, and he ruined her death, her sacrifice. To keep herself safe, to keep Curly safe, to keep the gun away from him, it all meant nothing.

Thinking outside the Ship

Anya is fun, she is enthusiastic, loves to make jokes, draw, play board games with Daisuke, read, and teases Swansea about his love for sweets which he doesn't even bother to object to and Swansea hands her a note so that she could give it to Curly during his psychological evaluation,, implying that they're casual enough for an exchange like that to occur, and even has what seems to be a budding relationship with Curly himself, taking to his comment about being fit to fly in her eyes like it's a common exchange of flirting between the both of them and she even teases him at the birthday party to "hop to it" in terms of the cake. She is at ease around him, her walls have dropped, and she feels safe to talk to him, and even attempts to try and get him to open up more to her.

She reads psychology books, she is extremely determined having applied to Medical school on total of eight different times and obviously has the skills and interest to keep doing it despite failing and only joined Pony Express so she could make money and keep trying to get into medical school.. She also has good taste in music, one that Swansea and Curly enjoy very much. She also seems to get along well with Daisuke and even allows her emotions to show with anger when they play games they seem to have much of the same sense of humour, judging by how Daisuke is genuinely worried about her when she locks herself in the Medical, they seem to have a positive relationship. We don't know much about her relationships with the others beyond what the wiki can provide.

She seems to have the best relationship with Curly, although. And after the crash, she can't bear to give Curly his pills due to him being in visible agony and her own trauma of forcing him to do something he very obviously doesn't want to endure, likely due to memories of her assault being triggered by both the act of forced insertion and the sounds produced by Curly during it.

Anya also spends most of her free time studying. She runs to clear her head. And when she really needs to destress, she binges on the worst reality television and fast food. She is a very free-spirited woman who is eternally doomed to be reduced to nothing but a hapless, miserable victim.

Final Comments and Thoughts

I don't have much to say here unlike my last analysis, but the situation on the Tulpar is not as straightforward as people would like, I understand it's extremely cathartic to think of a situation where Jimmy gets what he deserves but it isn't realistic, and thats what this game is trying to say. Abusive corporations, exhausting capitalism, this environment breeds Abusers like Jimmy and victims like Anya and Curly. There was nothing that could be done. Pony Express is what doomed them all, they're the catalyst.

Anya deserves to be written and viewed as more than just a representation, a victim or a vengeful hysterical bitch. She deserves to be happy!

Thank you for reaching the end of the thread, please don't be scared to share your thoughts in the tags or in my inbox, I'd love to hear them! good job! (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) ♡

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing anya #mouthwashing jimmy #mouthwashing curly #just talking #curly mouthwashing #mouthwashing daisuke #mouthwashing swansea #long post #analysis #character analysis #mw #mouthwashing meta

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