#so it's sort of gender neutral in that way?

[nfwmb-gvf]

just keep rolling...

dr. jack abbot / reader

summary: sometimes it takes a little bit to get things rolling between you and jack...

warnings: mentions of minor injuries, drinking

a/n: i started writing this a few months ago before the season even ended so i am very happy to finally be getting this out. i wrote it as gender neutral so there shouldn't be any physical descriptors. yearning!jack and also kinda shy!jack idk it just kinda happened. pretty much entirely fluff (my two children are left clean and untouched by the horrors). this is completely self absorbent i needed skater jack abbot and this is what happened!

wc: ~5.1k

dividers from @saradika-graphics

The first time it happened was after a long shift. 

While the day shift got a beer and quiet in the park after a long day, the night shift got an assortment of baked goods, the quiet chirps of morning birds, and the occasional sighting of a deeply motivated runner out on their morning jog. 

You stepped out into the morning sun with a slight chill. Pittsburgh had survived yet another winter, but the spring mornings left a cool sort of frost that couldn’t be shaken yet. Ellis, Shen, and a few night shift nurses sat with steaming cups of strong coffee in hand on the benches that saw probably more PTMC workers than intended.

But of course, there was Abbot too. Jack. Sitting quietly but engaged on the edge of the group, taking in the unhurried chittering of the group with slow nods. 

Shen catches you in his periphery first, giving a nod before announcing, “Late to the party!”

A gentle eye roll and smile is all you give him as you take an empty spot near Jack’s bench. The go bag you have slung over one shoulder hits the bench first, your water bottle and old energy drink that didn’t (and won’t) get finished go next, but then a second bag (a new one, Jack notes) falls next to it all with a clunk. Then, your feet are moving on their own accord to where Ellis is propped, sitting on the backrest of the bench, with the white printed box of carbs and coffee laid by her feet. 

Lifting the lid, you mutter, “Ah shit, must’ve missed the good stuff.” Your eyes flit over the box’s contents, your usual post shift snack missing from the arrangement.

Ellis gives a sympathetic shrug, but Shen butts in before she can speak a word, “How does the saying go? You snooze, you lose?” He raises his eyebrows your way before taking a strong sip on his iced coffee. The small smile he gives lets you know he's just teasing.

You throw another eyeroll and give him a gentle shove.

Shutting the box and grabbing a hot cup, you walk back to your bench, explaining your lateness to the group. “It’s not my fault, charting a patient with a candle where the sun doesn’t shine happens to be more complicated than you'd think.” You sit with a huff.

Abbot, his eyes never having left you since your arrival to the scene, gives you a sideways smirk. Your eyes find his briefly, and you give him a soft one in return. 

You return to Shen, “Besides, having to figure out how to carry all this extra crap while getting through the heavy exit doors slowed me down”. 

Abbot glances at the bags next to you, and goes to comment on it before Shen claps both hands on his knees and goes to rise. 

“Alright everyone, enough for me.” 

This seems to awaken the once passive mood of everyone on the benches, the small talk turning into soft farewells and “see you tonight”s. Some people pass by you, and you offer them a small smile in return, settling further into the bench with no intention of moving anytime soon. 

After everyone has left, and the last of the muffins have been picked over, Abbot and you are left at the benches. You take a deep inhale and raise your eyes upward, admiring the soft rays of light as they peak through tree branches, refracting and reflecting on the dew drops that hang from each leaf. 

“Candle where the sun doesn’t shine?” A low voice grumbles, the teasing smirk evident in his voice. It’s the first thing he’s said since you’ve set foot in the park.

You set your eyes forward, head shaking back and forth slowly with a soft smile of your own, “Can’t say it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

You turn to look at him fully for the first time when you see him shift in your peripherals. 

A strip of sun lays just right on his face, and for a second looking at him almost becomes too much. All day everyday you see him under the constant glow of bright, clean lights. Seeing him bathed in the soft yellow of day sets something alight in you, something that only breathes in the quiet moments you’ve silently shared in the many years you’ve worked side by side.

Your trance is broken when he stretches across the bench under where his jacket lays on his side. He pulls out something, wrapped in a pink napkin – the ones that come customary with every order from the bakery where the early morning goods are supplied. He offers it your way.

“Figured you might get tied up.” His eyes reveal nothing.

With a confused look, you take it gently from him. Your body pays no attention to the sleepiness that engulfs itself as a zing goes down your fingers at the faint brush of your hands together.

It’s a subconscious reaction you’ve been fighting to control for years now.

You gently unwrap the napkin to see your favorite sweet tucked neatly inside, careful and delicate. 

“I -, you didn’t have to -,” you turn and beam at Jack, settling on “thank you.”

He shrugs and looks forward, like he didn’t take the risk of actually grabbing something from the box for once and getting a few jabs from Shen and Ellis after realizing you might take longer than normal to get to here. Like he hasn’t spent every shift memorizing what snacks were your favorite. Like he hadn’t spent the whole shift glancing at you, looking across the room for you, or thinking about you in basically any capacity.

Very casual.

It was always like that between you two, however. A protein bar here, a gentle pat of encouragement there. All unspoken. It was like you and Jack have always operated on some sort of frequency no one else tuned into.

The feeling swells again. 

He blinks, seemingly brought back from his contemplation, and looks back. He nods towards the bag with a curious expression.

“Oh! This?” You set the pink napkin wrapped gift delicately next to you before reaching for the bag. Inside is a set of roller skates, the wheels clearly worn but brilliant nonetheless. Four wheels and very eighties, just a hobby picked up from COVID. “Occasionally I skate around after work. We don’t really have a good set of bike racks around here so this is sort of the next best thing when I need a little more time to decompress after a shift…” You trail off, spinning a wheel as you fidget.

With no response from him, you look back up. “It’s kind of lame isn’t it,” you say, using that brand of self-deprecating humor that creeps up when you begin to feel embarrassed. There’s truly no reason to be, it just felt a little silly to be telling someone like Abbot that one of your preferred decompression activities involved pushing yourself around on skates like a middle schooler.

His mouth creases a bit as he frowns and shakes his head, “Didn’t say that.”

“Yeah, but, y’know, no one wants to see their doctor on rollerskates, right?” There it is again.

“Wouldn’t say that.” He has a look on his face you can’t quite decipher.

You shrug, smiling a little to yourself. You shrug off the unnecessary embarrassment as your finger spins one of the front wheels again.

You reach down to slip your shoes off your feet, suddenly sparked to life again.

He eyes you wearily as you begin to lace them up. There's equal parts amusement and equal parts something uniquely grumpy about him. 

You stand up slowly from the bench (and Jack has half the mind to reach out and steady you), but you begin to roll forward with little momentum.

You look at him with a little shrug, almost as if to say “watch this!”

You start to push yourself around, swaying gently back and forth. There’s no intention or motive, just simply taking a few loops. You circle around Jack, who cranes his neck either way to keep his eyes on you the whole time.

“I know I’m not that old, but something about just taking the time to skate makes me feel like a kid again,” you say, slowly coming to a stop in front of Jack. As if you needed to explain anything.

His eyes bore into yours, the soft dew surrounding you for a brief moment. All he can see is how your eyes twinkle. A slow nod is all he manages.

“You ride those all the way home?”

“Oh god no,” a small laugh and head shake, “I think my legs would turn into jelly.” 

You kick one stopper against the ground, “I, uh, there's a local park. Some kids are out before school and hang around there. I teach them how to skate sometimes.”

Jack's eyes glimmer. How like you to spend all night battling the horrors of the world in such a caring manner, only to get off shift and become a caregiver once more.

You shrug again, slowly riding back over to the bench and plopping down. You don't reach to take off the skates just yet, but spin them a bit as you drag them against the ground - kicking your feet gently like you were eight again.

A deep inhale, “I used to skate.”

You turn quickly, looking towards Jack. He’s looking forward, his eyes a little wistful. Almost like he’s somewhere else.

“Yeah?” You offer softly.

“Yeah,” a pause, “A long time ago…would skateboard around.”

His foot shifts a little bit, like remembering what the feeling was like was enough to send a sensation to something that wasn’t there.

Your heart swells just a little bit.

Only then do you reach down, untying the loose laces. 

“Well, you’re welcome to join sometime,” the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. You can’t bring yourself to look up from the tops of your shoes. “I’ve got a board too, although I prefer to stick with these guys.”

He stares forward for a beat longer before looking at you. Only when you see him move is when you turn to look. 

He gives a soft nod, something between acknowledgement and agreement. 

You nod back.

A few weeks go by before the topic is ever brought up again. 

You had been covering the day shift for three days now, and today was the first day that you felt your brain had somewhat caught up to the change in schedule. But that didn’t mean much for today, you were already down one doctor and it felt like a storm just trying to keep up with the normal inflow. However, when a bus full of college athletes flips on the highway mid-afternoon, everything becomes a bit too much. 

So it doesn’t surprise you to see a familiar ER cowboy come slinking in with his camo backpack slung over his shoulder. 

You had just finished attending to a smaller head lac, offering to go find her a blanket, when you see Jack. Your body seems to subconsciously relax knowing he’s there, especially after not having seen him for three days now.

“Thought you were off today?” You say once you get close enough.

His lips give a downturned smile and he shrugs softly. 

You nod in understanding, “No rest for the wicked.”

That gets you a real smile.

You take a step back instinctively when the sound of the ambulance bay doors come crashing open again, snapping back to the instincts that push you through the non-routine routine of the ER. 

With one nod your way, he moves to put his bag in the lockers. And you, you stand there dumbly while you try to remember what you were just doing before salt and pepper curls invaded your thoughts.

The shift ends without fanfare. It’s a minor miracle that everyone from the highway accident ends up okay, and that the shift “quiets” down after everyone is treated. 

After final rounds are made, and you bump elbows with Ellis to hand off any final patients, it was time for your day to come to an end.

You open your locker, your regular backpack sits at the front, but right behind sits that familiar tote bag. You groan internally. You had left your skates here for more than a few days now, and they really should come home at some point. Not only that, but a penny board sits in the bag, too. One of the kids had been asking, and it's difficult to say no to them (and maybe part of you was hoping someone else could get some use out of it, too). Today was just not the day that you wanted to lug them back with you. 

But I guess that was every day that they had sat there so far.

Princess appears by your side right as you’re closing your locker, both bags slung over your shoulder. You’ve worked with her more than a few times now, and she’s definitely one of your favorite nurses to have when things go south.

“A couple of us are going to decompress in the park for a bit…” The implication doesn’t have to be said to know what she means. 

You go to give her an answer, but your eyes drift over her shoulder to where Jack hunched over a computer trying to finish up the last of his own notes.

Princess looks at you expectantly. 

“Oh! Uh, yeah. I’ll be there in a bit.”

That satisfies her. 

As she walks to the exit, you head towards Jack. You sidle up alongside him.

“A couple of us are headed to the park, care to join?”

He looks up at you and the rejection he typically gives to anyone who asks that question falls flat on his tongue. 

“Sure,” leaves his mouth before he can realize that what he said wasn’t no. “I’ll be there.”

You give a gentle nod to the last of the electronic filing he had, “I can wait while you finish that up.”

That seems to fluster him a bit more. 

By the time you both have exited the doors of the ER, the party has well and truly started. There’s a small crew on the park benches - Robby, Mohan, Mateo, Javadi, Whitaker (surprisingly), Princess, and Donnie.

Now Princess is all well and good on her own, but Princess and Donnie? That’s where there’s an issue.

Two cans get tossed your way, one to you and one to Jack, but Princess and Donnie continue to stare long after you set your stuff down. You go to sit down before you hear someone clear their throat. They raise their eyes at you…and you look back, truly confused.

Then you remember.

“Really? I thought you guys were kidding about that,” you stare down at the unopened beer can.

“Nope!” Donnie tosses you his key chain.

You catch it, albeit reluctantly.

“I’m not in med school anymore,” you groan, “nor have I been for a while now,” comes a little quieter after.

Javadi tunes in at the mention of med school. “What’s up?”

“The three of us made a bet on a stolen ambulance and our friend here,” Donnie tips his beer your way, “has yet to fulfill their end of the bargain”. 

“Guys that was weeks ago at this point,” you groan further. 

“And it’s been weeks since we’ve seen you,” Princess retorts.

“Might I also add that you were the one confident enough to not only bet money but also a shotgun on this based on a gut feeling,” Donnie adds.

You turn to Jack, giving him a look to ask him to back you up.

But all you get is a mischievous grin in return. “Go on, doctor.”

You look up, then back down again, then sink one key into the bottom of the can. You slip one finger under the tab, slowly tip the can up to chug, and crack it open.

It’s slower than your med school days, but you still get a round of ceremonious cheers when you finish. You shake your head as you finish, wiping the stray drop at the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“You’re setting a great example,” Robby chimes teasingly. Because that makes you feel better.

You toss Donnie his keys back, and get another beer in return. 

And when you finally sit down next to Jack on the bench, he gives you a proud smile and tips his beer your way. You laugh softly and clink the cans together.

It isn’t long after the shotgun stunt that people start to excuse themselves from the group. Mateo and Javadi take off at some point (which gets you an eyebrow raise from Princess). Whitaker whispers something about having left something inside his locker and that he had to go back in. When Donnie begins to pack up, everyone else takes it as their cue to start heading out as well. You grab another beer before he closes the lid to the cooler, you don’t have to work tomorrow anyways.

And it’s you and Jack alone at the park again.

It’s still. And you suppose it’s cold, too, but the two beers you have had so far leave a gentle thrum underneath your skin. 

You break the silence first with the crack of your third can.

Jack huffs a silent laugh as you take your first sip. Only this time, you don’t bother to hide the gentle grimace. 

“Do you even like that?” He asks quietly. 

“Jury’s still out, I think,” is your response. “Not my first choice, but it gets the job done.” Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask - “What about you?” The question comes out clunky and not at all conversational in the way you would have liked.

He nods, “I’m with you on that.”

“Well that surprises me, I think.”

“You think?”

You mull on it a little bit, “Yeah, I figured you would be. Are you sure you’re not out and around Pittsburgh hitting up all the craft breweries?”

He chuckles, “There aren’t any open at the time I’m out anyways.”

You giggle a little bit at that. 

You just can’t bring yourself to look at him. Your eyes are anywhere else - the streetlamps, the tops of your shoes, anything. You blame it on the alcohol, the fact that you’re alone, the fact that he’s been staring at you for the past five minutes and basically the entire night up to this point with the intensity that really only Jack Abbot could carry.

And when you do go to look at him, your eyes get snagged on that tote bag that separates the two of you.

“Oh!” You’re positively delighted by this discovery.

The beer gets abandoned on the bench. You immediately take off your shoes, hands diving into the bag and pulling out the delighted skates, and you pull them on without hesitation. 

You stand up with a “woo!” and push yourself forward. 

The first time you catch Jack’s eyes all night is when you look at him, full of delight, enchanted by the skates again. 

“Oh! I almost forgot!” You push yourself back to the bench again, going straight back to the bag. You pull out the penny board and look at Jack with wide eyes and an expectant grin.

Instead of the excitement you were expecting him to match you with, the look you see is one of apprehension. Maybe a small bit of melancholy. 

It makes you drop your smile immediately.

“Or not! You…don’t have to, at all. I know it’s been a few….because of…,” your voice trails. Your tongue feels too big for your mouth as you stumble over what you want to say. Your brain feels like it's tripping over itself to find what he wants to even hear. 

You end up on: “I’m sorry,” as you move to put the board back in the bag. 

“It’s okay,” he says. His hand stops you before you can pick the tote bag up. “I want to try.”

“Yeah?” A small smile creeps back onto your face.

“Yeah,” he shrugs nonchalantly. Like the pure excitement thrumming off of you couldn’t power whole cities, like it didn’t pain him to see that excitement deflate at the thought of offending him.

He could do this, for you.

He stands up in the exaggerated old man way that makes you giggle as you hand off the board to him. He sets the board down in front of him, and it's almost a muscle jerk reaction to place his foot on the board to stop it from rolling. 

It feels…odd. Jack doesn’t have the same stability he used to as his prosthetic sits on the board. Or, at least, it’s more difficult for him to sense out the balance needed to push himself forward.

For a moment, he gets stuck. He wants to push his leg forward and start the roll of the board, but his leg feels locked in place. Jack knows how to do this. He’s done it so many times before, but that was years ago. Decades ago. During a time when both of his legs were his. Beyond the kicked up dust storm of memories this brings, he thinks he would have to move out of the country if he went to move forward and fell flat on his face.

Standing in front of him, you notice his stare becomes fixated on his leg. You see the rush of emotions that pass across his face - confusion, uncertainty, apprehension.

“Need help, cowboy?” You hope it comes across as light. 

Jack looks up, finally. The storm clears when he sees your face looking back at him expectantly, how at ease you are standing there. 

A small smile and a chuckle, he feels a little ridiculous for being scared. “Probably.”

That’s all it takes for you to position yourself beside him and loop one arm in his like it was the most natural thing in the world. As you stand side by side, his face is right next to yours. 

“You’ve got this,” you say with such sweetness in your voice he’s sure he might melt. “Besides, if you fall, I’m going down with you. Then we can both laugh at our stupidity.”

He turns his face away and shakes his head with a huff of a laugh before looking back at you.

“Ready?” You say.

“As I’ll ever be,” is the response you get before he gives a timid push forward.

As both of you start to roll, Jack gives another push before setting his foot on the board. He feels wobbly, but he can’t tell if it’s because he’s out of practice or your hands on him make him short circuit just a bit.

He doesn’t get a chance to think about it any further because you let out a short, “WOO!” as you both continue around the park. After a bit, you’re the one pushing the both of you forward, as Jack stays stable on the board. 

You look at him with a beaming smile (that he should have seen for what it truly is - mischievous) as you ask him, “Ready?”

Just as his eyebrows begin to furrow and ask you what you meant, you let him go with a gentle push. The change in balance only throws him off a bit before he finds his “footing” again and he continues to skate forward on his own. 

It isn’t long before his confidence builds and he maneuvers to turn around without a hitch. Right back to you. 

“Good job!” You cheer, skating over to be by Jack again, once forgotten beer back in your hand (if Jack sees, he makes no comment).  

The park is quiet, no one around, but the thrum of blood rushes through your ears loud enough to compensate.

You like seeing Jack like this, sporting a small smile meant only for himself while doing something he once loved.

Okay, fine, maybe that shotgun just really went right through your system. Maybe the other two were hitting a bit harder than you thought. But now, beer in hand and skates on your feet, you feel a little silly. 

It doesn't help that your adrenaline was through the roof, giggling to yourself as you watch Jack push himself gently around on his board. You giggle once again. 

“Jack!” You gasp when the idea comes to you after a healthy swig of beer. “Jack, Jack, jack, jack, jack,” his name comes spilling out of your mouth, your tongue getting twisted on the consonants before righting itself. 

“YOU! Should pull me and then we could go super fast!”

He shoots you a look of amusement. 

A stupid idea, a pair of wheels, and a few drinks? Sounds like the start to any ER trip. 

However, there's no slur to your words and you seem to balance yourself alright. You just seem - loose, relaxed. The giddiness you have just seems like a side to you he hasn't quite gotten to yet.

He relents and gives you a wave to “c'mere.”

You slide on over, and take his outstretched hand. The warmth stored in his palm immediately seeps through your body, spreading from one end to another. You almost wished you had wiped your hands on your scrub bottoms first before reaching out.

He raises his eyebrows at you, “Ready?”

You nod with a grin. 

Then he pushes off on one foot, barely fast at all, but you let out a soft squeal as you're pulled. You give yourself a little push as well, trying to gain some momentum. 

All original ideas of going fast fly out the window as you fall side by side, both pushing a little when needed. Your hands never let go, however. 

You spare a glance his way, then give a devilish smirk. With a hard push off of your right foot, you go to get in front of Jack. 

You giggle softly as you stare at him head on, now skating backwards. 

He huffs, “Show-off.”

There's a smirk hiding soft in the dimple on his cheek. 

You continue to ride backwards, “What can I say, I guess I'm just a pro-”

Your gloating is cut off, abruptly ended by a raised piece of sidewalk. You crash backwards, landing promptly on your butt and partially on your arm as you let out an undignified squeal of surprise. 

The beer rolls sadly into the grass.

Jack stops immediately in front of you, letting the board roll backward slowly as he immediately goes to your side. 

You sit up immediately, no broken bones or hits to the head. You pull your elbow up to look at it, though. There's a healthy scrape there from when you caught yourself. You let out a soft hiss as you look at the damage. 

“You okay?” His eyes are full of worry, immediately scanning you up and down. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, trying not to worry him as you flick a pebble off of your elbow. 

You were fine, truly. The scrape burned like a son of a bitch, but you were feeling more embarrassed than anything. If that squeal was recorded and played at any point, you’re sure you just might keel over and die of embarrassment. 

He very gently takes your elbow to assess the damage. “We should get this cleaned.”

“Oh no, it’s okay,” you object. “If we go back inside they’ll rope us into something and then we’ll never leave.”

Jack gives you a pointed look. It almost makes you laugh.

“I’m fine! I promise, I’ll just wash it out when I get home. No fuss.” You smile at him gently.

“Although…you could kiss it and make it better,” the words slip out before you can even process that it’s a thought that you have. 

You go to open your mouth to apologize, but then he drops a soft kiss to the uninjured skin on your elbow.

“Better?” His voice is soft, meant for only you. You’re sure you’re gaping at him with a stupid surprised look, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Every nerve is on fire but you’re frozen still.

“Yeah,” you breathe out. Your eyes flicker to his lips without even meaning to. You can still feel the spot on your arm where they touched, and, yeah, it doesn’t hurt anymore. 

He moves just a little closer and you’re sure the entire city block can hear your heartbeat at this point. 

Jack drops his forehead to yours slowly, and then your noses brush. He waits for any sign of a no, but it’s washed away when you breathe out “please”. 

He doesn’t wait after that.

Jack’s lips capture yours and it feels like relief. Your hand immediately goes to cradle one side of his face and you can feel the small amount of stubble scratch your fingertips. 

Your lips move together for a while before you start to feel desperate, wanting more. You go to move to put your other hand on his shoulder but you bump your elbow against him and immediately pull away. You hiss and look at your elbow again before giving him a sheepish smile.

He smiles brightly at you, and you swear it splits your soul in half.

“Alright, we should really clean that,” he says. 

“Yeah maybe,” you laugh. 

“Although…it’s a little difficult to reach…I might need some help,” you start teasingly.

He grins back at you, trying to figure out where you’re going with this.

 “And, you know,” you continue, “we can’t go back inside the Pitt…so maybe you should help me back at mine?” Your voice tilts upwards at the end, like you can’t really even believe you’re asking him this. 

You stare at him with bated breath.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Jack says, before leaning down to steal another kiss.

a/n: AHH! THANK YOU FOR READING! please let me know what you think and also please flood my inbox because i truly would love to keep writing. okay love you bye!

[nbraraeaves]

rule 34 --

(Hector Valentino Airnesto Condicionado x plus size non-binary reader, 18+)

summary: Reading some of Hector's work leads to you requesting he leaves the safety of the attic to come visit you in your bedroom.

warnings: reading grate-based erotica as emotional foreplay. fingerfucking, oral sex (nbi receiving and m receiving, respectively), penetrative sex, dacryphilia, blindfolded sex, body worship, biting/marking, mild restraints, both are switches to a degree, voice kink, use of a cock ring, edging if you squint, discussions of feelings and insecurity, reassurance.

hector notes: chubby hector supremacy. I find I write him as semi-agoraphobic with gomez addams aspirations; there is some acknowledgement of past voyeurism but reader is into it.

reader notes: reader is plus size, queer, and non-binary (ftn). affectionate pet names are mostly gender neutral. all mentions of skin/hair have been kept as neutral as possible, though suggestions are appreciated to make the experience more seamless. reader is also just as loquacious and just as much of a yearner, be advised.

general: anyone order [checks notes] 15.5k words of HVAC smut?

god, I need this man in a way that's troubling to multiple schools of social thought. the way he got me out of a fanfic rut should be studied in a lab.

anyway! here we go. no use of y/n or anything similar, as always. no betas, I'm just dead.

Seeking a respite from the relentless summer heat outside, you’d taken advantage of a now-rare quiet moment in your bedroom to catch up on some light reading.

It was funny, in a way, how suddenly that change had come about. You couldn’t begin to number how many afternoons you’d sat alone in your bedroom with a book, spending more time in imaginary worlds than in the real one when you could get away with it. This had simply been your usual routine for about as long as you had lived here. 

With the advent of the Dateviators, however, an entire social life had emerged in the halls you’d thought you haunted alone. Over the last few weeks, it was increasingly uncommon for you to walk into any room without finding someone there hoping for a companionable chat, or with some sort of request now that they were able to communicate with you directly.

As much as you appreciated your new friends — and your new lovers in particular, a development that still gave you a giddy rush — there was still a longing, every now and then, for your familiar state of solitude: curled up on your bed with the sun streaming in through your window to illuminate your pages. Especially now, in what you considered your “fancy” pajamas: a thin-strapped top and shorts, both in a dark silk (the nicest set you owned, a holiday gift from years back), with clean sheets, and a comfortable chill about the room. Had this been any other day before the Dateviators, you would’ve been in a tiny paradise all your own.

…However. The longer you pored over this particular book, the less appealing your solitude was beginning to seem after all.

The book your fingers curled around now was honestly impressively hand-bound, the pages remarkably well typeset for being… independently produced, in a way.

You’d found Grate Expectations upstairs in the attic, off to the side of Hector’s HVAC shell. It looked so official that you’d mistaken in for one of the saucier books from your early twenties in Lady Memoria’s boxes, until you saw your beloved’s name on the cover. Upon realizing what it was, you’d recalled the time he’d read you just a snippet when you’d half-jokingly requested it, and left you out of breath on unsteady knees when he’d finished. It shouldn’t be a real surprise, you reasoned, that you’d ended up smuggling it out of the attic, deeply curious to see just where the rest of the book went from where he’d left off.

And now, at every small sound in the hall or the adjacent rooms, you found yourself looking up with a guilty start, pulling the book closer to your chest so no one would catch a glimpse of just what was on the page. It’s not that you were ashamed to be reading it — there was nothing wrong with romance or erotica, and you still enjoyed both a great deal, obviously.

It just felt… different. This was Hector’s, and he’d written it about you. About the pair of you, together. It was private. Intimate.

It was that same sense of privacy that was the cause of your current guilt; he hadn’t told you that you could take it, or that you could read beyond what he’d shared. Even though it was about you, he had likely written it just for himself. To read it without his knowledge felt like a betrayal of his trust.

But even the guilt was outweighed by the way the prose had you pushing your thighs together without realizing, swallowing thickly, your hips squirming slightly against your mattress as you read the very detailed, very vivid fantasies of just what he’d longed to do with you — and to you. Over and over, with a passion that threatened to scald your fingertips at the edge of the pages.

At one point, you simply had to close the book over your thumb, your thighs pressed tight against each other and your face hot to the touch. The embers of curiosity had turned to a gnawing heat in the deepest part of you, your pulse racing even though you were lying perfectly still.

Staring at your ceiling, you bit your lip and calculated your options. Handle this yourself, and save your beloved any potential embarrassment from your snooping…

Or come clean, with all that might follow.

You gazed at the grate on the wall across from you, chewing your lip slightly as you did so. It was honestly kind of surprising he hadn’t already been there to notice the heat on your face, the way your breathing was already shallower than usual.

After a moment, you cleared your throat and willed your voice to sound light, casual. “Hey, Hector?”

There was the briefest pause, followed by a sound of motion in the ducts above you. A moment later, a familiar pair of adroit hands emerged from the grate, and a flash of clever, kind eyes in the darkness. 

“Hello, my love.” Hector’s voice was sweet, as though somehow still surprised you’d call on him. “Enjoying your day? I’ve heard it’s quite harsh outside. I’ve been minding the temperature in here accordingly; I know you you prefer things on the cool side.” The little note of pride in his voice was downright precious; it was as though your new relationship had made him even more committed to keeping you comfortable at all times.

You barely had time to open your mouth when you saw the dark eyes narrow, and you could picture his brow furrowing above them. You couldn’t help a bit of a smile — he was nothing if not attentive.

“Are you alright?” His voice sounded concerned. His hands moved, wrapping around the vent slats as if to support him leaning closer to inspect you.

“Why do you ask, babe?” You raised an eyebrow as you sat up to face him, hoping your smile didn’t give away your guilt. Your hand was holding the book face down on your mattress, hoping his attentiveness would be on your face for now.

“I — well.” Hector’s eyes glanced askance as he searched for the words. “You look lovely, don’t get me wrong — you could never not look glorious to me, just as you are. It’s only…” he paused. “You look… piqued, my sweet. A little more flush than usual. Is it still hot in here?” His frown was almost audible, and it was adorable. “I could’ve sworn I had this room cooler than the others…”

“I’m fine, Hector,” you reassured him. You scooted closer to the vent on your mattress, hoping he could see your smile was genuine. “The room has been perfect, as usual. Thank you.”

Hector made a concerned noise, and you got the feeling he didn’t want to contradict you outright. “You just look… warm,” he said, a hand reappearing to gesture towards you. “Your hair on your neck, and your skin… are you feeling alright?” His eyes searched your face. “If you’re feverish, I could get Farya—”

“I’m okay, Hector.” You moved so you were sitting on the end of your bed now, peering up into the vent. “I promise you, I’d tell you if I wasn’t. Believe me?”

The grate made a noise as Hector leaned against it again, looking you over more thoroughly… before he seemed satisfied, if not entirely convinced. “I do. But is there still something I can do for you, darling? You did call me,” he reminded you.

“So I did.” You looked down for a second at the back cover of the book, debating if you were really going through with this, then back up at the grate. “Would you mind… coming in here, for a sec? If you’re not busy,” you added quickly.

“I’m never too busy for you, love,” he said, and you recognized the more fervent fire in his eyes that came in his particularly inspired moments. “That’d be like being too busy to breathe. But…” He paused, again somewhat uncertain. “I am… already in here, am I not?” He gestured loosely to your bedroom, his voice a tinge worried like you’d somehow forgotten where you were.

“No, I meant, like… physically, in here.” When there was still a hesitant silence, you nodded towards the doorway. “Like, all of you. In here. With me.”

“…As in, leave the attic?” Hector said, clearly fighting to keep his voice from going up an octave.

You nodded, widening your eyes to look as innocuous as possible. “I’m just right down the hall — there’s only the closet between us, right?”

“And the entirety of The Breaker Box,” Hector pointed out. His hands were antsy, fingers fidgeting with each other. “Are you sure I can’t just… talk to you here? As we already are? Or you could come to me,” he suggested, voice brightening. 

It was your turn to hesitate — despite the breakthrough the two of you had made together, Hector still didn’t like running the risk of being perceived if he didn’t have to be. While he seemed to even enjoy you seeing him, now, other people seeing him was iffy at best. You imagined the proximity to one of the flashier clubs in the house didn’t help, especially with Volt and Eddie around. He knew you were seeing them just as he knew about all your other relationships, and while he wasn’t given to jealousy (at least, not in front of you), you had to imagine that if being in Volt’s gaze still gave you a tingling feeling in your stomach, then it would send Hector running for the rafters.

“I was actually hoping…” You chose your words carefully, knowing how ‘hope’ would be a loaded one for him. “To spend some time with you… alone.” You gestured loosely to your empty bedroom. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate with the weather and all,” you said, doing your best to sound innocent. “But I was just thinking, if you had a few spare moments… maybe I could impose and steal you away? While things are quiet?”

“You could never impose,” Hector said quickly. “Nothing you could ask of me could be an imposition, love, I assure you. My time is yours, entirely.” But his hands were still moving, fingers lacing and twisting anxiously even as he said it.

You watched his hands for a long moment, your teeth grazing your lip. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all. “…I wouldn’t want to  ask anything that would make you uncomfortable,” you said after a moment. “If you’d rather not, it’s okay. I can always come by yours another time—?”

“No!” Hector said it so immediately, it took you both by surprise. “No, really, it’s not… it’s not an issue,” he went on, and though you couldn’t see him, you could picture the pained smile he was forcing. “Not at all. In fact, I’d love to visit you. I was just thinking about… a change of scenery,” he ended flatly, and it was so unconvincing you had to try not to giggle.

“Just, uh.” His eyes roved around the vent, clearly trying to figure this out. “Give me a few minutes, if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” you said quickly. “And really, Hector, if it’s not something you want to do—”

“Oh no, I want to!” Hector cut you off, his voice climbing again as he fought to sound light and carefree. “Very much! Honestly, I should’ve done it ages ago! I’ll just... be right there!”

“Take your time, babe,” you called after his retreating hands.

“I’ll see you soon!” Hector called back, and while you could hear him trying to sound eager, you could also hear the little anxious groan he let slip as he got further away from the opening of the vent.

You’d honestly lost track of time, having returned to the book to keep yourself occupied while you waited. It hadn’t taken long before you were sprawled on your stomach, devouring page after page, trying to ignore the way your hips were subtly pushing against your mattress when you read a turn of phrase you found particularly… stirring.

It was the shuffle of some sort of fabric that made you look up, accompanied by a low, nervous humming, and someone muttering quickly under their breath. The sounds came closer and closer to your room, causing you to sit fully upright, though your finger still marked your place. “Hello?”

A figure covered in blue tarp rounded the corner into your room, which you only recognized from the eyes peeking out beneath a makeshift hood. “Can I close the door?” It spoke in a rush, sounding out of breath.

You blinked, trying to understand what you were seeing. “Hector?”

“Please?” he wheedled just slightly, his voice up an octave. “If- if you don’t mind, that is?” he added, remembering himself.

It took you a second to process what he was asking. “Yeah, of course.” You nodded, waving a hand. “Go ahead, if that makes you more comfortable.”

Hector quickly closed out the rest of the house, only letting the tarp slide backwards from his head when the two of you were alone in the room. He let out a sigh of relief as his head fell back against the wood with a ‘thud’, smiling weakly as he caught his breath. “I made it.” His eyes met yours, sparkling with triumph. “I’m out of the attic.”

“You are!” You beamed, pushing off your bed to meet him where he stood. “That’s a big step for you, darling. Congratulations.”

His eyes only brightened as you approached, and when you kissed him hello, he more than eagerly reciprocated. The tarp rustled as he let go of it, and it fell off his shoulders like an odd cape. You meant to ask about it, but his arms encircled your waist, and you found yourself pressing your hands against the cabinet doors of his coat, sliding down until your fingers curled around the handles. With his mouth on yours and the passion of his writing fresh in your mind, you used them to tug him even closer, deepening your kiss.

Hector made a small noise of surprise, but clearly found this agreeable, one hand sliding up your back to squeeze gently at the nape of your neck — one of his favorite places on you, as it always made you shiver slightly when he did so. For a moment, you were caught up in how his form felt against yours, how he held you like you were something precious, until you both at last parted for air.

“…Hi,” you said at last, unable to help a shy grin.

Hector grinned himself, his arms still hugging you close. “Hello, my love.” He reached up to trace lightly at the strap of your top, his eyes gleaming. “I must say, I’ve always thought these were… something.” His eyes flicked back to yours. “I like them.”

“Well. Thank you.” You felt your skin heat, and you played cool by reaching up to rest your arms on his shoulders. “I… like yours too?” You glanced over at the blue tarp, trying for an encouraging smile. “It’s very avant garde.”

Hector laughed nervously, nudging the tarp closer to the door with his foot. “Ah. Yes. That. It’s…” He paused, clearly trying to think quickly. “A… cloak? Of sorts? Or at least, that’s what it’s inspired by? Not that anyone really wears those anymore, of course, but, uh…” The longer he talked, the more a blush spread across his face, and that familiar self-conscious look of his with it.

“Hey.” You kissed his cheek, distracting him. “If it got you here to me, I’m all for it. You do whatever helps, angel.”

Hector seemed to catch his breath, his expression unmistakably relieved. “I appreciate your understanding, as always.” He kissed your cheek in turn, never one to let affection go unreciprocated. He then wandered lower, his lips grazing your neck. “Now, before I get too ahead of myself… did you have something in mind for this visit, amor?”

Ah, right. This part.

“…Yes, actually.” You fidgeted with a lock of his hair, trying to decide on your approach. Would he be angry? He’d shared it with you before, but he’d never outright said you could read all of it…

Hector’s lips stilled just under your chin, his eyes meeting yours. “…Yes?” He prompted, a note of concern creeping in.

You bit your lip, taking a steadying breath before you spoke. “I… owe you a bit of an apology.”

Hector stood back up to his full height, searching your face. “I’m sure you don’t,” he said, laughing a bit uneasily. “Whatever for?”

You kept biting your lip, worrying it between your teeth. “Well. It’s... a little awkward —”

“Please tell me you haven’t changed your mind,” he cut you off, his voice abruptly strained.

You paused, looking up to see his suddenly wracked expression. “I - What?”

“Me. Being here. Out of the - the vent.” Hector’s eyes darted to said vent and back to you. 

“Oh! No, Hector.” You shook your head, your hand falling from his hair to stroke his cheek. “No, love, I really wanted to see you” Your brow furrowed. “Why would I change my mind?”

He gave you a half-smile, and while he reached up so his hand covered yours, he still couldn’t quite meet your eyes. “I just thought… With the light and all, well.” He gave a small shrug. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Hector.” You moved your other hand to cup his face in both of yours, forcing him to look at you. “Nothing could be further from the truth. As a matter of fact, I asked you here because I wanted…” You paused, your eyes slipping to the floor as you tried to figure out just how to say ‘you to rail me stupid like in the multi-chapter erotica you wrote about us’ in a manner befitting the artist in front of you. It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t been intimate-ish, before now. Hector was just as gifted with his hands as he was with his words, and he loved the sounds you made, now that he could give you his full attention without the grate between you. But he’d been hesitant to go much further than that, still seemingly too anxious to let you reciprocate his physical affection.

Was this too much? Were you basically ambushing the guy because you wanted to fuck him? Were you finally going to out-weird him, like you always knew you eventually would?

“What is it, my love?” Hector tilted his head to catch your gaze again and to lean his face against your palm. “Anything I can do for you, I will, you know that.” His fingers intertwined with yours. “You need only ask. There’s no need to apologize for that — nothing would please me more.”

His face was so sweet, so earnest and open, that you felt a twinge of guilt amidst the heat pooling in your gut.

“…That’s a little bit what I’m concerned about,” you mumbled. You held up a finger as his brow knit together, confused, and walked over to where the book still lay on your blankets. You picked it up, taking a breath, and when you turned to face him, you were holding it up for him to see the cover.

Hector frowned for the few seconds it took him to recognize the cover, at which his eyes widened — with surprise or concern, you couldn’t quite tell.

“So.” You shifted slightly where you stood. “I kind of… borrowed this, without your permission. And I’ve been, well, reading. Also without your permission.” Your tongue wet your lips. “Hence, I owe you an apology.”

“…Oh.” Hector’s voice was faint, and you could see him desperately trying to keep his anxiety in check and failing. “I — no need to apologize, amor, really. I did share it with you before, after all.” He attempted a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, which were trying to read your face as desperately as you were trying to read his.

“You did,” you acknowledged. “But I still should’ve asked. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and that wasn’t fair of me.” You waited for a moment, before shifting so you were now hugging the book against your chest. “But I’ve been… really quite enthralled.”

Hector perked up immediately, though his eyes were still cautious. “‘Enthralled’?” he repeated.

You nodded. “I started it this morning, and I just… haven’t been able to put it down.” You turned it slightly to reveal the dozens of pages you’d pored through already. 

“Oh,” Hector repeated, even softer than before. He looked from the pages, to your eyes, all too briefly to your lips and back up again. “I’m glad to hear, my love.” A blush was settling over his cheeks and moving up towards his ears. “You have always been my most… inspiring muse.” His tongue darted out over his own lips. “I often find myself unable to write of anything else.”

You pressed the book tighter against your chest subconsciously, and his eyes dropped immediately, definitely noticing. “I’m honored.” You found yourself whispering, though you were the only ones in the room. “To occupy the mind of such a talented writer… I can’t even begin to put into words how flattered I am, Hector.” You couldn’t help a smile. 

Hector’s eyes were saucers, for once struck silent.

Your eyes dropped again, the weight of what you were about to ask suddenly sinking in. “I just… I can’t help but worry, a little,” you spoke slowly, choosing your words. “Because on the page, I’m everything you want, and I don’t know if I can even begin to measure up in the flesh. I desperately want to try, but I don’t… I don’t want to rush you,” you explained. “Or ask anything of you before you’re ready or comfortable, I want to respect your boundaries. But I also just want… well. You.” You looked up at last, hoping that made sense.

Hector’s pupils were blown black, and it took you a second to fully register his expression —

Before you realized it was the starkest look of outright hunger you’d ever seen.

On anyone else, it would’ve tinged the fire at your center with fear. But now, on him? You wondered if you’d burn before he even put his hands on you.

“You could never,” he whispered. “Not be what I want. I want you exactly as you are, as you’ll have me, always.”

He closed the distance between the two of you, his lips mere inches from yours. His eyes jumped from those to meet your gaze and back again, clearly torn. You felt his hands brush yours — warmer than usual, and faintly shaking — before he swallowed hard.

“If we’re to- to proceed,” Hector said, forcing a tremor from his voice. “I’d ask three things of you, my love.”

“Name them,” you said instantly, and for a moment, his hunger gave way to something much softer at your willingness.

Hector took another breath, as though he was having trouble keeping up. “First,” he said, and his hand reached to move your hair away from your cheek. “Is that you’ll put your total and complete trust in me.”

You caught his hand in your own, turning to press an open-mouthed kiss into his calloused palm. “You have that already,” you said quietly, your lips not totally removed from his skin as you did so. “You know that, Hector.”

Hector’s tongue darted over his lower lip, and he stepped between your feet so there was barely room to whisper between the two of you. “I’m asking,” he breathed. “That you give me control, mi vida.” His thumb traced your mouth. “Just for a little while, just... just so I can take care of you. Like you deserve. Like I know I can, with precision.”

His eyes were so deadly serious, so fathomless, that for the span of a heartbeat you kind of forgot to breathe.

Instead, when your brain took over and nudged you abruptly, you responded by taking Hector’s thumb into the heat of your mouth and nodding.

Hector made a sound somewhere on the cusp of a groan and a gasp, and as your tongue laved at the rough whorl of his fingerprint, his other hand cupped the other side of your jaw.

“The second,”  he went on, his voice softer now. “Is that you’ll let me blindfold you.”

You paused in your attention to his hand, your tongue actually freezing in place on his skin for a second as your brain shorted out once more.

Hector smiled, but his brow wrinkled just enough to betray his concern. “Which is why I required your complete trust, first and foremost. Remember?”

When you pulled your mouth off his digit, a delicate string of saliva connected you still to his skin. You went to wipe it away, feeling heat return to your face in embarrassment, but Hector was faster, pulling it back from your mouth and onto his thumb.

You blinked, for a second taken by just how quickly he moved, before you met his gaze again. “…I do actually want to see you, at some point,” you said quietly. You reached up, your hand stroking his hair lovingly. “You’re the major draw for me here, after all.”

Hector let out a short, abrupt laugh that was somehow startled and amused all at once.

“It’s true,” you protested, your hand coming up to cup his face. “Even if you refuse to believe it, despite my many, many declarations to the contrary.”

Hector leaned his face into your palm and closed his eyes like he was resting against a sun-warmed window pane. “I believe you, my love,” he murmured. His eyes opened, and his familiar sweet-but-slightly frazzled expression returned. “Even if it takes the rest of me a while to… agree.”

You smiled back. “I’ll take that, for now.” You stroked your fingers along the soft line of his jaw. “…Right. Blindfold, yes, but you have to let me take it off when it’s my turn.”

It was Hector’s turn to pause, his eyes giving him away by going slightly wide. “Your- your turn?”

You stepped into Hector’s space as he had into yours, standing up slightly on your toes to put your mouth a tantalizing space away from his. “I’ll surrender my control and my sight,” you said, your eyes moving slowly from his eyes to his lips. “But at some point, I’d want reciprocation.” You tilted your head to look at him while his jaw dropped ever so slightly. “Is that something you’d be okay with?”

Hector took a sharp, shallow breath, his mouth soundlessly trying to form words before at last he simply closed it and nodded eagerly. As if to emphasize this, he licked his thumb where you’d sucked it, cleaning your saliva from his skin and making a show of swallowing.

You turned back to your nightstand, grabbing a black silk sleep mask from where it rested on the surface, and held it out for him to inspect. “Acceptable?”

Hector tilted his head, then took it gently from you to hold it up to the light and rub the fabric between his fingers, before he nodded at last. 

“And the third thing?” you asked as you took it back, remembering.

Hector shook his head once. “Blindfold first. The two are connected.”

You prevaricated for an instant, fiddling with the sleek fabric in your fingers. This was going to be your first time with him, fully, and not knowing the third condition first only heightened the crackling nervousness that came with this milestone.

But the way he looked at you with a gentle, hopeful smile, his eyes bright as he looked you over with an obvious tenderness… you found what little tension there was easing from between your shoulders. This was Hector, after all. He was downright devoted to you. The idea of causing you any sort of discomfort had been sacrilege to him on multiple occasions.

“So…” You paused, looking down at your pajamas. You were grateful you’d at least picked a nicer pair for laying around than your usual worn out t-shirt and underwear. “Before I put this on, should I—”

“I’ll be handling that,” Hector interrupted. Though his voice didn’t change, he stated it more than said it, and the unexpected confidence was, honestly, quite hot.

“Oh, well. Be my guest.” You winked, trying to match him, but the way he blushed hard as the heat rushed back to your face reminded you that you were both still… yourselves, at the heart of it all.

You bit your lower lip for a moment more, the jitters of anticipation clashing with the smooth heat at the pit of your stomach. But you saw Hector’s eyes drop immediately to your mouth, the hunger back in his gaze, and the jolt it sent through you made you at last settle the dark silk over your eyes.

In the ensuing black, it was hard not to immediately become more aware of every other sensation: how the fabric of your clothes settled against your now hyper-sensitive skin, the feeling of the floor pressed up into the soles of your bare feet, the utter silence that settled over the room —

The way the temperature of the room seemed to climb two or three degrees almost immediately.

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. One of the fun parts of having your HVAC as your boyfriend was the fact that the very air often gave away what he was really thinking.

Hector had been so still, so quiet, you’d been wondering if this was an opening move on his part. But then you heard the susurrus of fabric moving from over in his direction, the soft thuds of him shedding what you were betting were his sandals. After another moment, you heard cautious footsteps on your floorboards, until there was an undeniable presence directly behind you.

Something light ghosted across your hair, stroking it lovingly, before oh-so-carefully shifting it to expose the side of your neck as much as possible. You couldn’t help the pleasurable shiver that ran down your spine, and you tilted your head to expose your neck even further, part of you worried Hector’s insecurity would’ve read the reflex in bad faith.

A heat radiated close to your back, and another came to rest delicately against the skin of your breastbone. Hector’s hand, broad and impossibly warm, seemed to take up the entirety of your sternum -- palm first, heavy and sure, before his fingers stretched across your skin like they wanted to take up as much space as possible. A longing sigh brushed your shoulder, the unexpected warmth causing your head to turn as though to look --

He made a soft noise of denial, his other hand coming up to guide your jaw with the barest pressure of his fingertips so you faced forward again.

“The third condition,” Hector rasped, his mouth right next to your ear. “Is that you indulge me, and I might speak as I used to.” 

You smiled, immediately recognizing what the two of you had jokingly referred to as “Vent Voice” in the time his attic face reveal.“Like when you first started courting me, huh?” you teased, knowing that Hector was actually a sucker for the concept. The man was nothing if not a romantic. 

“The very same,” Hector said, and you could hear the smile of his own underneath the words. His hand pushed you gently back a step, and when you were met by a solid warmth against your shoulders, your brain stuttered to realize he’d taken off his insulating coat. His bare chest was against your skin, and you could feel the coarse hair that covered it, along with the soft stomach now pressing into your lower back. The heat at your center threatened to overwhelm you, so strong was your desire to turn and slide your hands down his torso, to explore what he'd never shown you. 

He pressed against you, his breath ghosting over the back of your neck before he lowered his lips to your exposed skin.

Your breath hitched, and your head fell backwards, until you were resting it against what you realized was his shoulder. You made a sound of want through your bitten lip as Hector kissed your own shoulder around the strap of your pajama top, then moved towards the juncture of your neck. 

“I l-like your real voice, though,” you managed, your hands clenching and unclenching in thin air as he kissed up the column of your throat. “It’s so quintessentially you. And I love you.”

Hector hummed softly against your skin before licking a small expanse up the side of your neck, his scalding tongue causing you to gasp before you could catch yourself. “I love you too,” he said simply, a slight note of smugness creeping in. "And I also adore the face you make when I play to your voice kink." He kitten-licked the shell of your ear. "So if I'm going to satisfy you, I'm going to do it completely." 

And before you could disagree, his splayed fingers were pushing the thin strap off your shoulder entirely.

The thin top fell away with no resistance, Hector tugging lightly so the fabric slid past your hips and landed on the floor. You were now also topless, and just as you moved reflexively to cover your chest, Hector’s free arm gently bumped yours away.

“No, no,” he murmured. “I want a good look at you, my beauty. I’ve only been…” He pressed a kiss to your other bare shoulder now, his stubble rasping across your skin. “Aching for you like this, since I first set eyes on you. You must understand.”

So you curled your fingers into your palms, your thumbs rubbing a knuckle on each hand as you made yourself stand still.

It had been more than a small shock whenever the Dateviators revealed a not-small contingent of beings who found you desirable in your own skin. You were so used to being... well, yourself, that you had an admittedly difficult time seeing what they found attractive in you. Real beauties like Amir, Volt, and Betty left you feeling a bit lost with their kind words, their flirting. You couldn't help but feel underwhelming despite their lingering looks.

Hector's desire for you had been another kind of unexpected entirely; his devotion, his hunger from afar -- while you couldn't understand it directed at you, per se, you definitely were more familiar with this model on your end than anything else. The two of you spoke the same language of the heart. So if it pleased him to have you like this, you were more than happy to let him take his time with you, white-knuckling through your own self-consciousness to let him soak you in.

You felt Hector’s hands settle on each of your shoulders before they traced down your full arms, then over your chest with a tender slowness. You felt his breath on the back of your neck catch and stutter as his hands lingered over your sides, before sliding down onto your hips with what could only be described as reverence.

“God,” he half-whispered, half groaned, and it sounded agonized. “God, you are so… unspeakably soft.” His fingers ran up and down your sides before settling on your hips again, where he couldn’t resist squeezing the plush flesh there. “This is heaven beyond my wildest imagination, my heart, you have no idea.”

You couldn't help a little helpless laughter as his touch ran over the ticklish parts of your stomach, and you flexed your back against his chest, leaning further into him. You lifted a hand to his jaw, and turned your head to kiss him there. "And when do I get to take you in, hm?" 

Hector's hands ghosted over the sides of your breasts, and then for a moment cupped their considerable weight in his hands with a soft moan. When his thumbs ghosted over your nipples, you shivered, biting back a whimper -- while the area normally wasn't your favorite, due to the dysphoria it sometimes inspired, his touch here was so careful, you found yourself able to relax into it. Even more so when he laid his arm across them to put a comforting pressure there, a warm echo of your compression tops. 

You hummed gratefully, leaning as best you could to kiss his soft bicep.

He returned it with a kiss to the side of your neck. "I have you," he said, his lips against your skin still. "I promise."

You couldn't help but smile, resting your head back against his shoulder again. "I know." You kissed his jaw again, one of your favorite parts of him in its softness. "I trust you."

The way his breath shuddered slightly against your neck at this was heart-wrenchingly adorable.

He angled his hand back to your breastbone to pull you more firmly back against him, and you could feel his heart hammering through his chest against your shoulder blade. His breath was bordering on ragged as one hand caressed your lush stomach while the other held you fast.

“You’re so warm” he moaned, and his hand slid lower, thick fingers brushing the waistband of your flimsy cotton shorts. “You’re like the sun on my fingertips, love, you’re celestial.”

Your arms came up to wrap around the one holding you to him, hugging him as best you could and leaning fully into him. “Hector, you’re gonna kill me with anticipation,” you mumbled, your skin screaming to be touched everywhere at once. “At least let me kiss you, or someth—”

Your words were lost amidst the blood rushing to your face as Hector hooked his thumb in the side of your shorts and yanked brusquely downwards, letting them also settle on the floor. You were all too aware you were now fully naked, pinned against him and fully at his mercy.

“Allow me this, please.” His lips were against your ear before he kissed your cheek, then lower down your neck again. “I swear to you, all I want to do is please you… let me at least worship at the altar I’ve admired for so long.”

His hand slid up from your chest to cover your throat, and his kiss to your shoulder became a sharp bite. Your inhale hissed through your teeth, your back arching against his grip.

“All I want is to make you come,” he said, his longing strangling his voice. His other hand slid down your stomach and towards your cunt, stopping short enough to make you squirm in search of any sort of contact. “And come, and come, until you’re a mess in my arms. To fulfill you so completely, you’re too wrecked to find the words to ask for more.” He angled your head to press a searing, messy kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Tell me I can, love, and I will.”

“Please.” If you were still in your right mind, you’d be embarrassed at how quickly you said it, or how you practically whined for it. “Please, Hector, I’ll beg if you want me to, I’ll—”

Two of Hector’s thick fingers slid into your slick folds, and you spasmed against him as they barely brushed your swollen clit.

“Fuck.” Hector’s teeth were gritted, and you felt his hips buck sharply against your ass. The thermostat belt buckle threatened to bruise your back, and you felt something achingly hard through the fabric of his pants, pressing into the soft squish of your flesh. You pushed back against it, and the hand over your throat tightened ever so slightly, as if to hold you still.

“You’re so wet.” Hector’s moan threatened to crack through his Vent Voice entirely, and his fingers traced your slit with an ease that made the heat in your face spread down to your chest. “Fuck, you’re already soaking wet, love, what—”

“What can I say?” You turned your head against his shoulder to face him as best you could. “Your work—” You choked for a moment as his fingers brushed your clit again, the sound desperate and shaking. “I-inspired me.”

Hector’s mouth was hot and greedy and open when he kissed you in response, as the rough pads of his fingers began circling your clit in a way that made you gasp helplessly. “Be careful,” he warned, pulling away from you just enough to speak. “It’ll go straight to my head if you tell me that. That I could possibly have this effect on you, my angel.”

“This is all you,” you said against his lips. “This is what you do to me, I swear.”

You felt his breath shake as he inhaled, his heart threatening to pound through his chest and into yours as he kissed you again. Christ, he’d only just started and you were already overwhelmed, between his tongue demanding in your mouth and the careful hand on your throat keeping you prone and exactly where he wanted you, your hips twitching and flexing into his hand. 

When your legs began to shake, he broke the kiss to only to hiss a single word as he pushed you lightly against your bed frame: “Kneel.”

You complied, realizing he’d lined you up perfectly with the end of your bed as you sank onto your knees on your mattress. Now with no fear of your legs giving out, you let Hector support your back against his chest, your breath already turning to short, desperate pants as he worked the most sensitive part of you.

Hector was murmuring feverishly into your hair when he wasn’t kissing you everywhere he could reach. “Yes, love, you’re doing so well for me, that’s perfect, you’re perfect, just let me— let me take care of you, please, let me make you feel a tenth of what I feel for you, even that.” His smooth facade was chipping away, sounding like he was just as desperate as you were as the coil of white-hot want at your center twisted tighter and tighter. While he fought to keep his voice steady, the moans that escaped him when you gasped and arched back against him sounded more like the him you knew outside the vent.

You grabbed at the hand at your throat, intertwining your fingers tightly with his. “Please don’t stop, please don’t stop Hector, please—”

“Let go, love, I have you,” Hector rasped, the voice back in place. “Come for me, show me how you feel, please.”

You came with a shudder and an embarrassingly loud groan from deep in your chest, shaking against Hector’s torso as you ground your hips down onto his fingers without an ounce of shame. Though you couldn’t see them, your were certain your thighs were already glistening, and this was only one orgasm in.

Hector squeezed the sides of your throat with a fraction more pressure as you writhed, and you could feel him pressing his clothed erection against your ass, perhaps without even realizing it. 

Before you could catch your breath or even come down, Hector spun you lightly by your shoulders and barely nudged you backwards. Your lack of equilibrium and the fact that you felt weightless meant this left you sprawled out on your back, on top of your covers.

“What—” You started to sit up, confused, before Hector’s hand rested firmly over your stomach.

“Stay there,” he said, and the relative curtness of it compared to his usual eloquence made your thighs twitch all the harder.

You heard more fabric rustling, and the thud of something metal and heavy hitting the ground — his belt, you realized, and you parted your thighs before you fully realized what you were doing.

Hector chuckled shakily. “Oh, amor. Don’t tempt me before the second course.” He leaned down, tilting your chin with a finger to kiss you as you dazedly looked up.

 You heard him drop to the floor, muttering to himself so quickly you couldn’t catch it, before you heard something clicking closed. He gave a full-throated groan, as though pained, but before you could sit up to check on him, two hands dragged you roughly down your mattress by your thighs.

“Wait, hold on — are you okay?” You reached out blindly until you felt his hand, concerned. “What was that?”

“I’m fine, my love, I promise.” Hector’s free hand swept down your other thigh to soothe you, followed by his lips against your skin and the rasp of his stubble. “It’s nothing to worry about. Just - ah.” Another soft gasp, and a low moan as he adjusted whatever it was. “Something to help me not lose myself with you entirely. Not until the proper time.”

Before you could try to puzzle out what that meant, you felt his hands squeeze your thighs, before manipulating each one onto one of his shoulders.

“You have no idea,” he said, tracing a gossamer finger across their sensitive inner flesh. “No earthly idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He traced the inside of your thigh towards your cunt with the tip of his nose, occasionally pausing to sample now and then with a nipping kiss you knew would leave a small bruise, causing you to whimper at each. “How often I gazed down on you on this very bed, watching you alone, aching to touch you. I would’ve traded the rest of my life just to taste you.” 

You could feel his breath on the mess he’d left with just his fingers, seeming to drink you in before he pressed a delicate kiss to either side of your slit. He lingered there, and you could feel him panting lightly as his nose pressed into your pubic hair, until he groaned with unfiltered need.

“You’re divine,” he whispered, and before you could respond, the scalding flat of his tongue parted your lips.

“Fuck!” You arched your back against your mattress, your hands jumping to anchor in your lover’s dark, curly hair. “Fuck, Hector, oh my god—” But he was merciless against your still-sensitive clit, and when you tugged his hair without realizing, his resulting moan made you dizzy and light-headed. 

For all his beautiful words, Hector’s tongue was a menace in its own right. He ate you out like a man possessed, his fingers tight enough to bruise on your plush thighs as his tongue circled the innermost part of you, his nose nudging your clit in a way that made your hips buck against his face. But this only seemed to spur him on, his hands moving to pin you down as he devoured you with zeal.

Your hips trapped in his surprisingly strong grip, you moaned in frustration, and when he echoed you, it seemed to vibrate through your core. “Hector, it’s too much,” you begged, and tears threatened at the corner of my eyes. “I can’t, I can’t—”

But Hector only shook his head, his tongue moving in a way that sent sparks racing through your veins. Whereas all this time he’d been sitting off your bed, he only broke your connection to climb up onto your mattress, shifting your thighs on his shoulders before he sank his tongue into you. His ferocity left you keening raggedly, short of breath and desperate.

You gave up trying to resist, grinding yourself against Hector’s face, and as you did so, you felt the motion echoed further down your bed. It took a minute to orientate his relative position, but when you did, you realized with a jolt of heat that Hector must have been grinding into your mattress. The idea of his cock already leaking just from going down on you left you clenching with want around air, and Hector made a sound like a whine in response, shoving the flat of his tongue against your clit in a way that set your veins ablaze. He brought two fingers to your hole, sliding them inside with so little effort that you nearly started to cry, your face impossibly warm. He was utterly ruining you, and with frightening efficiency.

After a few minutes of slowly, steadily fucking you on them, he unexpectedly curled them inside you. You let out something close to a wail, throwing your head back against the sheets.

Your nails scraped his scalp, and his chin and stubble were absolutely soaked against your thighs. He only lifted his tongue from you to pant for a second, before rasping brokenly:

“Come on my face. Comeonmyface, amor, I’m begging, bless me with even that—”

This crack in his control, combined with the last crook of his fingers inside you, left you powerless. You came again, messily, nearly sobbing his name.

True to his word, he groaned as you ground your cunt against his tongue, holding completely still so you could use him as you wished. Your face absolutely seared at just how much your cunt was drooling into his mouth, tears creeping out from under your blindfold from both embarrassment and raw want. when you finally fell limp against the mattress, he laid wet kisses along your lower abdomen, whispering praises against your skin as he stroked your twitching thighs.

You could swear your ears were ringing and your skin was on fire. If you took off the blindfold now, you might still be seeing black, your vision a hazy swirl as your brain tried to figure out which way was up. 

“Oh my fucking god,” you mumbled, your voice shot.

“You’re one to talk of holiness,” Hector mumbled back, and you felt him rest his chin on one of your thighs. You could hear him sucking clean the fingers he’d fucked you with, like he hadn’t just had you coming all over his tongue. “You’re a sight, mi vida. You’ve never been more beautiful. If I died tomorrow, I would die utterly content.”

“…How the fuck,” you managed. “Are you still so…” You gestured uselessly, struggling for words. “…Together, right now?”

Hector let out an amused huff of air through his nose. “You can’t see me,” he said, and in that moment, you could hear just how strained his Vent Voice was. “If you could, you’d know how paper-thin my composure really is. How much you’ve already shattered me.”

“But I haven’t even gotten to touch you yet, you’re the one fucking me,” you protested weakly. “And fucking me... really, really well, actually. Like. Oh my god, Hector, your writing was one thing, but this—”

Hector pressed a finger to your lips, shushing you gently. “Don’t let me get cocky,” he said, and you could hear the pleased grin in his tone. “Not when I haven’t ravished you fully, yet. Not to my standards.”

Your lips started to form a question, but he seized your hips in his broad hands, pulling you further down the mattress again until you were flush with—

Your face felt like it was burning, realizing he was kneeling between your spread legs, his flesh impossibly warm against your own.

“I can’t,” you mumbled, hiding your face in your hands. “I’m already wrecked. I’ve got nothing left, Hector, I'm —”

Hector was crooning soft assurances as he delicately pulled your hands apart with his own, and you felt your fingers interlacing with his. He kissed each of your cheeks, the tip of his tongue tracing the salt that was surely leaking from under the blindfold by now. “Once more,” he murmured. He pressed each of the backs of your hands to his lips in turn, before stretching them over your head and pinning them to the mattress. “Once more, my heart, my darling, trust me just that much longer."

Slowly, you felt something pressing against your folds, and before you could register fully what it was, something hard and hot dragged itself against your slit. You exhaled raggedly, what little oxygen had returned to your brain leaving immediately.

"Let me fuck you, love,” Hector whispered, grinding his cock along your soaking wet cunt. "Like you deserve. Like I've wanted to since I first set eyes on you." He was already panting, his breath only getting shallower as he lost himself rutting against you. "...Oh, god." His voice echoed off your ceiling, near feverish and cracking through his carefully constructed tone. He continued like this for a minute, and you could feel his stomach moving against yours, the course hair at his base growing wetter --

Until something unexpectedly smooth and steel nudging your clit made you gasp, then thrash in his grip. "What… is that?"

Hector froze for a second, and it was obvious both of you were having problems with the powers of speech. "...Something to keep me ready for you," he said, though the Vent Voice unsteady. "So I can be what you need, when you need it. So I don't - ah," he whined, mindlessly grinding against you again. "Lose myself, as soon as I'm inside you."

You shuddered at the electric contact, his dick sliding through your folds, the metal catching lightly against your clit again in a way that made your hips buck. 

"...Is that a cock ring?" you asked, at last putting two and two together in your haze.

Hector's hips faltered again, and you could tell he was struggling to proceed. "Uh. ...Yes?" he said, his true voice back and uncertain. "Is... is that okay?"

Jesus, this man.

You strained against his grip, leaning up, desperate to kiss him. "Hector, oh my god," you said, your fingers squeezing his palms when you couldn't quite manage it. "You're going to kill me, you really are. Please, please, let me touch you."

Hector laughed softly, the relief evident, and he squeezed your hands back before he brought his lips to yours. "Not yet," he murmured in the Voice again, kissing the corners of your mouth and down your throat. "Not yet, lover, this is still just about you."

"Hector," you whined, petulantly writhing against your mattress. "It's not fair! I want to see you, I want to feel you, I--"

That last thought was interrupted by something thick sliding into you, the heat and the unexpected fullness causing your sentence to die on your lips.

“You were saying?" Hector was teasing, his thrusts slow and languid, and your jaw dropped as your brain went utterly blank. The feeling of him inside you was electric, his shaft dragging along your walls, his stomach warm and soft against yours as he fucked into you. The wiry hair on his body felt like static against your skin, and you pushed your hips desperately back against his.

"More," you moaned, the one word left in your brain. 

Hector inhaled sharply through his teeth, and he finally let go of your hands, grabbing instead once more onto your thighs. "Of course," he said. "Of course, my darling, anything you ask." 

He pulled you towards him so your hips were flush together, bottoming out in you with a strangled, desperate sound. Whereas before his pace had been sensual, lingering, his thrusts now were sharp and precise. He kept a punishing grip on your hips, and with your hands now free, you reached up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down so your chests were pressed together.

Hector groaned but adjusted the angle of his hips to compensate, and he took the new proximity to leave soft, longing bites along your clavicle, like he was restraining himself from devouring you even now. You, meanwhile, were shamelessly chasing your third orgasm, your hands moving with minds of their own -- squeezing his soft upper arms, clinging to his shoulders, anywhere you could try to find an anchor point.

"Hector." You were starved for air, your moans short and breathless. Everything felt siphoned by the muscles tensing again in your abdomen, the ache at the center of you that only resolved when he bottomed out. "I love you, I love you fucking me, please don't stop--"

"As long as you want." There was no room between the two of you, and his mouth was everywhere -- leaving bruising kisses on your neck, laving at the junction of your shoulder. "Until the breath leaves my body, I'm yours to use." He buried his face against your neck, a broken breath shuddering against your skin. "Whatever you need, I'll give you all of me."

You got your arms around his chest, and when you raked your nails down his back, he let out a guttural sound of pure want, his breath hot in your ear. 

You had no filter left between your mouth and your brain. "I want to come on your cock," you managed, and you heard him outright whine, felt him spasm inside you. "Please, Hector, I want to, please?"

"You will," he groaned, and his grip was iron as he pulled one of your thighs up along the curve of his hip. "I have you, amor, you will."

The room was already filled with the obscene sounds of his skin on yours, but for a second, it was punctuated by the staccato of your headboard hitting the wall. The knowledge that this was caused by your shy, nervous sweetheart pulled the coil of want at the center of you all the tighter, and your hips met his, greedy and seeking.

Between the metal of the ring against your aching clit and Hector's borderline punishing tempo, your unraveling wasn't long. You felt the pressure of his stomach against yours, felt it tensing, heard his own desperate moan -- only to remember that he was denying himself his own orgasm in pursuit of yours, near-punishing himself until he could give you everything you wanted.

This made you finally break for a third time, you felt your release hot and wet down your own thighs, borderline screaming Hector's name to the ceiling before he muffled you with his tongue in your mouth. He kept fucking you through your aftershocks, but slower now, sweeter. You were gasping into each other's mouths, you outright shaking, Hector running his hands soothingly up and down your sides and whispering to you between kisses to your face and forehead.

"You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." His words were rapid, feverish as his forehead pressed against yours. "I love you, angel, divine, whatever soul I have belongs to you."

You couldn't speak yet, but your nails hooked into his shoulders, desperate for anything to ground you. You could hear him hiss sharply at the feeling, but he kissed you heatedly, coaxing your mouth open as you caught your breath.

For a long few minutes, the two of you just lay there, him still inside you, unwilling to give up contract with the other's skin. His kisses were soft across your face and chest with whispered, effusive praise, but you kept steering him back to your lips, wanting him to feel firsthand how much you adored him.

As soon as you were capable of speech again, you let him know. "I'm in love with you," you managed, punctuating this with a gentle bite to his lower lip. "I love you so much, Hector, tell me you know that."

"Yes," he sighed, and you could feel him smiling as he kissed you back. "I am no less thunderstruck to be loved by the object of my every thought, but I know." He kissed each of your cheeks in turn, the corners of your mouth, and his arms caged your waist. "Are you satisfied, mi vida?" You could hear the pride in his voice, like he couldn't tell by taking in how you were only just catching your breath, your hair clinging to your skin with sweat.

"Mm." You smiled against his mouth as you crushed it in a kiss. "...Not quite, my love."

The sound he made in response would've made you giggle, were you not so committed to your bit. It reminded you of the time you asked him for a photo; a mix of confusion and mild shock. “…No?” he managed at last, the Vent Voice finally falling away entirely.

Grinning, you reached up and lifted the blindfold from your blisteringly warm face. "I want my turn, Hector."

His expression was adorable, flushed and perplexed, his hair clinging to his damp forehead. He stared at you, his mouth once again left scrambling to form words. He had no time to prepare before you pushed upwards against his chest, maneuvering your weight so he was abruptly underneath you.

Before he could get his bearings, you grabbed both his wrists, pinning them to the pillow above his head. The noise he made was an exhale of confusion laced with something close to a whimper, and you sat back as much as you could, taking in your prize. "Is this okay?"

Hector's flush extended down his chest and shoulders, his hair a mess against the pillow. He glistened slightly with a soft sheen of sweat from his earlier efforts, and his pupils were still blown wide, threatening to eclipse the dark iris you adored. For a solid minute, he merely gazed up at you like you were something holy, still at a loss for words.

"...Hector," you cooed, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. "I need a verbal answer. Is it okay if I hold you like this?" You jerked your chin towards where you still held his wrists, your grip lighter now in case he needed to get out.

"Yes," he breathed, and you could swear his pupils somehow widened further. He swallowed hard, Adam's apple moving in his throat. "Yes, my love, anything you want--"

“Not the answer I need,” you cut him off softly but firmly, shaking your head. “I want to make this about you now, darling.” You released his wrists and shifted your hips so you were finally two separate beings again, and he actually whimpered at the loss of contact. 

Moving to sit just to his side, you exhaled, feeling the new emptiness inside you again. He didn’t move an inch, following you with wide eyes.

You couldn’t help but smile at him watching you like that, tilting your head to finally take him all in. Your eyes traveled down his broad torso, the arms that had held you through feeling like you would shatter completely, the adorable stomach with the trail of dark hair that you wanted to kiss and nip all the way down to…

The glint of the modified metal wrapped at the base of his cock, which was still laying achingly erect and flush against said stomach.

The air left your lungs all at once, a sharp spark of need causing your still-sensitive clit to positively throb. You turned back to meet his eyes, only to see him still watching you like an especially anxious hawk, trying to read your reaction from your face.

You blinked, remembering that yes, this was actually the first time the two of you had been this… vulnerable, around one another.  “Can I touch you?” you asked quietly, looking shyly from him to the metal and back. “Is that okay?” You had lost all concept of subtle, only half-aware of how you were biting your lip in your eagerness.

The tension in Hector’s shoulders seemed to ease, as if relieved, but the flush across his cheeks and down to his chest renewed. “I… if you want to.” He nodded, shifting slightly where he was laying, like he was suddenly all too aware of your gaze. 

You laughed a little, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Of course I want to. I’m more concerned about if you want me to.” You moved to kiss the other corner, one hand going to his chest to push him back to the mattress when he tried to meet you halfway. When you had him pinned again, you angled your head so you were looking down into his eyes. “You took care of me, love, and in spades. Now I want to take care of you.” You thought for a moment, trying to figure out just how to frame this — he was nothing if not selfless, and he wasn’t always the best at knowing quite what he wanted at turn. “ And I want you to tell me how to do it properly.” You stroked his hair, watching him swallow thickly.  “Can you do that for me, Hector, please?”

“Please touch me,” he said without hesitation, his voice now fully back to its usual pitch and already a bit shaky.

You beamed. “Excellent start.” You leaned down, kissing him fully again. “Thank you.” 

You went to move, but paused halfway, looking back to where he was now sitting up slightly to watch you. “…Tell me something—” you began.

“Anything,” he said immediately, nodding just a little in his eagerness.

You couldn’t help a giggle, reaching over to stroke his hair. “You’re so cute.” Off his responding small smile, you turned back to face him fully, supporting yourself over him so he had to lean back to look into your eyes. “I was going to ask,” you went on. “Did you like it when I had your wrists pinned earlier? Or do you want to be able to move?”

Hector bit his own lip as he gazed up at you, and you could see him weighing his options. “…I love touching you, amor, you know that,” he said at last. “But that was… new.” There was a hopeful note at the end of the sentence, a curiosity there. 

“Okay, I can work with that.” You nodded, holding eye contact until the poor man’s flush revived itself, and he looked shyly away. “You know, I have wondered…” 

His eyes were partially eclipsed by his hair, now; the visible one looked your way again. “Wondered, amor?”

You moved all at once, straddling his thighs, and noticing just how his mouth fell open as you did so. “Do you remember, love, when you told me you can’t relax for yourself?”

“…Somewhat,” Hector said, clearly distracted as he looked between your eyes and where your thighs were back in contact with his skin again.

You took his wrists in your hands, moving them so they were back on the pillow above his head. “Do you need to be made to relax, do you think?”

Hector’s eyes went impossibly wider, something in your phrasing clearly clicking for him. “…Define ‘made.’” His voice was cautious, but the subconscious way he licked his lips gave him away.

You felt yourself mirror the gesture, a lascivious smile spreading. “Like we agreed to earlier,” you reminded him. “My turn will be me asking what you want, and giving it to you until you can’t take it anymore.” You squeezed his wrists gently.

His fists clenched in response. “I think we - phrased that differently,” he said, his breathing starting to shallow out.

“But do you object to my phrasing now?” You raised an eyebrow, both teasing and challenging.

“Not in the least,” he said, so quickly it was cute.

You giggled. “Then do me a favor,” you said, lifting your hands off his wrists. “And keep those right where I left them, or I stop. Agreed?”

“Yes.” Hector nodded, then paused. “…With one addendum.”

“Oh?” You sat back, curious.

“Don’t — don’t blindfold me.” Hector’s eyes roved over you, his gaze so hungry it felt like a caress. “Let me see you. Let me at least have that.”

Your face felt hot again with how unabashed he was, but you played to it, holding eye contact as you leaned forward again across his torso. You carefully avoided any skin contact with his neglected cock, instead placing your hands over Hector’s chest. “Whatever you want, love.” You only looked down to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss to his bare clavicle.

Hector’s hands moved off the pillow as he made a soft sound of longing, but you sat up, giving them a sharp look.

He froze, to his credit, and tamely let them fall back against the fabric. When you returned to kissing your way up his neck, he groaned in frustration, and you could hear them moving on the pillowcase. “I - I might have not thought that through,” he admitted, already breathless.

“No?” You laved the sweat from his skin, enjoying the salt before you left a bite sure to bruise — one that mirrored a similar mark he’d left on your own shoulder. 

Hector hissed through his teeth. “No,” he agreed. “How could I not want to touch you?”

“But look, darling.”  You sat up, shaking your hair away from your face, then shrugging your marked shoulder. “We’ll match now.”

Hector’s cock visibly throbbed, his eyes infinitely black as he looked between the two with utter reverence, like he was seriously considering getting his tattooed on him. 

You took your time kissing your way down his chest, lingering to kitten-lick the nipples that had been hiding under the metal of his coat. He positively writhed at this, turning his hands back on the pillow to grip it in frustration. You watched him bite his lip until you feared blood, the small noises he failed to muffle speaking to just how it likely wouldn’t take much to wreck him at all…

Unless.

You pondered something as you kissed down his soft stomach, caressing his sides, making a point to lick a hot stripe through the trail that led down, down…

“I love this,” you mumbled, pausing to run your nails lightly down the skin of his stomach. Hector gasped, squirming underneath your hands, and you drank in the sight. “You’re so soft, Hector, but so solid. You make me feel safe, supported, always.” You leaned down, licking another stripe where his stomach met his hip, only just managing to hold him down when he bucked against the feeling. “And when I felt you against me, pushing into me, putting me exactly where you needed to to make me lose my mind…” 

You angled where you were leaning to grind your cunt along one of his hips, and Hector moaned in agony, his head falling back into the pillow and his hands twisting on the cloth of the case. 

“I know you’re too much of a lover, darling,” you said, licking a nipple again to watch his chest rise and fall raggedly. “But I did think about how you could easily have me any way you wanted, all for your own pleasure.” You grinned, watching that ragged breathing stutter, the way his jaw dropped soundlessly at the idea. 

“Blasphemy.” Hector’s eyes were wild, and he had to physically grab one of his wrists with his other hand to keep them both down. “You’re divine to me, I could never— I wouldn’t dare—”

“But what if I asked you to?” You sat back on your knees, drawing a line down the inside of one of his thighs with a nail to watch it twitch and shake. You weren’t sure if the whine was from the contact, or from the idea of using you. When you met his eyes again, he looked on the verge of pain. “It’s not like I’m not all yours, anyway.”

You watched his eyes, already overly bright with how you were torturing him, as you calmly positioned yourself next to his twitching cock, still trapped in the ring. 

“Am I correct,” you said slowly. “That you can’t come until this is off?” You merely tapped a nail on the steel, and his hips bucked sharply upwards.

“Y-yes,” he managed, his voice already shredded with want.

You pursed your lips, considering this. “Duly noted.” You looked back up at him. “Spread your legs for me?”

He did so with such alacrity, your heart ached.

You settled yourself between them, making a show of reaching to your still-drooling cunt to gather the slick there onto your fingers — his breathless whimper making you crack and smile after all. You took your time taking in his cock, wretchedly hard with neglect, still thick from where he’d made you come so hard you’d cried. The pre was practically dripping off the tip, and when you took it in hand at last, you felt it flex against your palm as Hector groaned from the depths of his chest.

You pumped your hand over the shaft with a slowness that made Hector throw his head back in frustration, his hips desperately trying to meet your palm.

“Easy there, love,” you soothed. When your hand was near the head, you spread the pre over his slit with your thumb, and he was already making a sound akin to a sob. “I have you now. I promise.”

“I love you,” Hector managed brokenly, his eyes squeezed shut from overwhelm. “I love you, please, please keep touching me—”

You leaned forward while he wasn’t looking, and when you took the head alone in your mouth, Hector had to visibly fight not to thrust into it. You teased him, swirling your tongue around the glans as you continued to pump the shaft, watching his breathing shallow out and his knuckles nearly turn white on his wrist. As you took more, your tongue tracing the hot vein along the underside, Hector’s back arched as he fought not to make you gag.

You let go with a soft ‘pop’ of suction, another strand of saliva linking your mouth to his skin. “Hector,” you said, your voice soft and innocent. “I want you to look at me.”

Hector complied immediately, sitting up just enough to see you —

As you took the most of him into your mouth yet, your other hand coming up to cup his balls as you did so. 

You could feel him throbbing in your mouth as he moaned in utter agony, his abdomen tensing, his balls tightening against your palm. “Mi vida, amor, please, please please I’m begging you, gorgeous creature, mercy—”

You took him as deep as you could, your nose brushing the dark, coarse hair at the base, and when his reflexes finally won out, you gagged around him.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He sounded on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry, my love, I didn’t mean—”

But you put a hand on his stomach to soothe him, sitting up to breathe. “I’m fine,” you managed. “I wanted to gag on you, it’s okay.”

“You’re going to kill me,” Hector mumbled, eyes glazed and hazy from lust, tears at the corners to match those in yours. “I’m going to die right here in your bed, at this rate.”

“Tell me where you want to come first,” you said, back to pumping him as you waited for your throat to relax again. 

Hector blinked, and for a moment you thought you’d finally broken him. “What?”

“My mouth?” You prompted. “My chest? My stomach?”

Hector’s hands were twisted into your sheets, but you didn’t want to wreck your momentum by punishing him appropriately. “I…” He struggled for words, before finally admitting in a cracked whisper, “Inside you.” He swallowed hard. “Please. I have to be inside you, now, or I’ll lose what’s left of my mind.”

You laughed as much as you could manage with a slightly sore throat, charmed. “Of course, love. Just— give me a moment.”

You doubled back to plant kisses up the insides of his thighs, nipping the inside of the left so gently, he fully whined above you. When you let yourself take his balls in your mouth, appreciating just how swollen they were, you felt him clawing at your blankets, speaking too fast for you to quite make out what he was saying besides the fact that it sounded like a prayer.

After a few more agonizing moments, you straddled his hips, his cock resting just against your cunt. You let it drool onto his skin, his hips bucking and twitching underneath you, him fully babbling at this point.

“My love, my angel, please, please oh god I can’t take this please—”

“Come here,” you murmured, and he sat up like a man reanimated, his hands flying to your torso to run over as much of your skin as he could reach.

You met his lips with yours, exploring his mouth as you rocked your hips so your clit caught one last time on the metal ring. Hector’s hips jerked back, tears escaping from his lashline down his cheeks at the friction.

When at last you slid onto him, Hector hid his face in your shoulder, panting openly against your skin. You rolled your hips together, and he met yours eagerly, his nails digging into your back in turn.

You stayed there for a few minute, feeling him spasm inside you as you moved, him clinging to you like he never wanted to be apart from you again.

“I love you, Hector,” you whispered, your lips against his ear as you reached between the two of you two find the place where the ring came apart —

And as soon as you’d gotten it loose, Hector came with a broken sob of your name, the heat of his release molten inside you.

You rode him through it, feeling it easily overflowing you so it dripped down your thighs, mixing with your own orgasm from earlier. Your skin felt impossibly hot, Hector crushing you against his torso as the two of you moved, and the slick sounds between the two of you were utterly obscene.

You kept riding him until at last he was totally spent, the two of you collapsing in a sweaty tangle to your mattress.

Hector’s lips were on yours, on your face, along your hairline. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice still broken.

You were still trying to catch your breath, but you kissed him back. “So you enjoyed yourself, then?” you teased.

“You exceeded my every desire,” Hector said, fully earnest, and the sweetness of it made you lose your breath all over again. “I’m never letting you go, I hope you understand that. I can’t bear to, not now.”

“Not even to put clothes on?” you joked, resting your glistening forehead against his.

“Especially not that,” Hector grinned. “We’ll simply resign ourselves to be here, forever.”

“No more vents for you?” You grinned back, but there was hope underneath the words.

“I live in your bed now.” He kissed your cheek, beaming at you. “Betty will just have to understand. It simply cannot be helped.”

You actually giggled, hugging him tightly and rolling so you were laying on his chest.

The two of you stayed that way for a while in sweet, fulfilled silence, the room filling with the warm honey of the golden hour through your window.

You rolled onto your side to admire him in the light, gazing as though you wanted to memorize every inch of him — which you did. “…You’re really hot when you’ve just finished wrecking me, you know that?” You reached up, gently stroking some of his hair away from his face, then tracing his cheek with a fingertip. 

His eyes immediately looked down, away, back up to the safety of his vent — anywhere but at you. “Don’t tease,” he mumbled. His whole demeanor changed from the afterglow of a moment ago, and he finally went to pull his arms in to cover his soft torso.

“Hey.” You bumped his arms away as he had yours earlier, moving on the mattress so you were chest to chest again. You kissed him earnestly, hoping to soothe the anxiety you could see gathering like a storm at his brow. “I’m not teasing,” you said, pulling away just enough to speak while looking him in the eye. “I think you’re hot, and I’m madly in love with you.”

Hector rolled his eyes ever so slightly, even as a smile tugged begrudgingly at his lips. “Amor. You don’t…” He trailed off, lips pressed together as he chose his words. “Have to… tell me that.” He nodded slightly, trying to keep the smile on. “It’s really okay.”

“Hector, forgive my arguing, love — but you literally just made me scream your name,” you said bluntly. You set a fingertip on his chest, making a point. “Nobody else has ever actually achieved that.”

His face flushed furiously again, and for an instant, the smile became more solid. Real. With just a hint of the pride you knew was in there somewhere.

“Have they?” you pressed, raising an eyebrow. “You would know,” you added quietly. “I know now you watched me with others.”

Hector made a quiet sound of discontent, any confidence disappearing as he looked away. “I’m sorry, I know I—”

“Don’t apologize. I’m into that too,” you said quietly, a sly smile creeping in. “I consider it part of your… unique form of dedication.” You drew a line with your nail up to his jaw, tracing his lower lip. “But you’re still not answering my question, love.” You tilted your head to catch his eye. “It’s only you, isn’t it?”

“…You deserve that and more,” he said at last, eventually looking up at you through his lashes. “I’m only lucky it was me who had the honor.”

“But why can’t I be lucky to have it be you?” you asked plaintively. When he didn’t answer right away, you sat up to put a little space between the two of you, realizing something. “…Do you not believe me, when I say I’m in love with you?”

“No,” he said immediately, and his hand gently caught on to your upper arm, keeping you anchored to him. “No, my love, I do.”

“Really?” You were watching his face now, searching for a telltale sign in his eyes, in the way his mouth moved. The idea that he didn’t believe you filled you with a cold, hollow dread that left you slightly sick. “You’re not just saying that?”

“No!” He caught your other arm as you moved further away, pulling you down to him again. “No, I believe you. I promise,” he pleaded, his eyes wide. “It’s just…” He pressed his mouth into a line, his eyes moving along the ceiling as he tried to find the words yet again. 

“…Am I… doing something to make you think I’m not?” you asked quietly. You swallowed — everything had been so beautiful, until you’d… what? Told him you were attracted to him? You’d just wanted to make him feel as loved as he made you. “…Is it me?”

“No.” Before you could blink, Hector had pulled you flush to his chest again, his eyes holding the same strange brilliance you’d seen upon your first meeting in the dark vent. “Listen to me: I have never loved anyone more than I love you,” he said quickly, nose to nose with you now. “You are my heart made human, you are the anchor of my animus. I’m yours, every part of me.” The light in his eyes changed, pained now. “But it’s me. Do you understand? You are beautiful,” he said, his hands sliding up to squeeze your shoulders. “You are my muse, my light.” He swallowed hard, like there was a lump in his throat. “And the only way I can show you how much I adore you is by giving myself over to you completely, satisfying you so thoroughly that you never have reason to think--” His voice caught, and he broke your gaze. “…To think about how you could do better.”

“What are you talking about?” You shook your head, perplexed. “Hector, I’m just… I’m only me. I’m completely ordinary. You’re the one who could do better, I’m sorry.” You managed a laugh, but it burned your throat. “…And I’m so afraid one day you’re going to realize that, you know?”

He looked up sharply, eyes flashing. “Don’t you ever say that.”

“Hector, listen to me,” you argued, straddling his lap so he couldn’t look away. “You’re literally an artist.” You held up a finger when he opened his mouth to argue, and he closed it again, albeit hesitantly. “Your prose breaks my heart and melts me, all at once. You’re sweet, you’re sensitive, you’re one of the most thoughtful people I’ve ever met — when you first told me how you felt, I could barely breathe,” you confessed, and it was hard to keep your voice steady. “Because I had no idea how I had captured the eye of someone so -  so passionate.” You swallowed, your mouth feeling full of ash. “When I was just… here,” you gestured limply around your empty bedroom. “Alone. Trying to justify what I was doing with my life, what I was thought I could prove to anyone. Trying to convince myself to keep… hell.” You looked away, your eyes stinging for a different reason. “Keep trying at all, I guess.”

You blinked hard. You would not cry and totally ruin this, you would not. 

“…My love?” Hector was all concern, which made it so you couldn’t look at him lest you definitely break. But when his hands slid to your hips, you still set yours on top of his, giving them a reassuring squeeze. He waited then, seemingly content with this sign.

“…And then suddenly, I put on these glasses and realized you were in my vents, of all places,” you said at last, keeping your eyes down. “And you were in love with me, and I didn’t really know what I did to - to earn it. But you made me feel seen in a way that… no one else really had. Ever.” You felt yourself shrug, a wavering smile managing to form on your face. “You make me feel like… whatever force animates the pair of us, whatever stardust we might be made of, ours is the same.  I could… belong here. With you.” You chewed your lower lip, feeling your skin catch fire again.  “And that’s what I’m saying, when I tell you I’m in love with you. ‘Please let me stay here. Please let this be home.’” You forced yourself to take a breath. “‘Please don’t think about it and realize otherwise.’”

You were interrupted by Hector suddenly seizing the back of your neck, and pulling you against his bare chest in a crushing hug. His other hand was planted firmly against the center of your spine, and when he buried his nose in your hair, you realized you could feel him shaking against you. His voice threatening to crack, he managed only a single word:

“Never.”

He pulled the pair of you down to the mattress, keeping you tightly curled in his arms, his legs entangling with yours to keep him completely in contact with your skin. You shifted your arms so they encircled his chest, your fingertips lightly tracing the scratches you’d left in his back at the height of your passion.

For a while, the two of you just stayed there, the only sound the other’s breathing and the opening salvo of the crickets outside.

And for a minute, it felt like you were the only two left in a house full of people.

Maybe even in the world.

He was the first to pull back, eyes intense like he was trying to memorize your own. “My love, I’m sorry.” He cupped your cheek in his hand with the utmost softness. “I didn’t intend to make you think I doubted you. The only person I doubt between us is myself;  you have never had to earn my love. You never will. I love all of you, even the parts you don’t — for reasons I cannot begin to fathom, but that’s another talk entirely.” He kissed your forehead, then your lips, before holding your gaze again. “You have the whole of my heart. You have since I first came into your service, you know that. I couldn’t imagine giving it to anyone else — adoring anyone else, the way I do you.”

“Then please trust me,” you said quietly. You reached up to stroke his hair yet again, then trailed your hand down his cheek and to his shoulder. “Please, if you love me as much as you say you do — and I know you do,” you added, off the way his eyes briefly went dark. “Know that it’s reciprocated wholeheartedly. That I love you, and how you love me,” you went on, smiling now. “And I would do anything to make sure you felt it returned just as ardently, because you deserve that and more. I love who you are, exactly as you are.” You kissed his forehead. “You cannot let the version of me in your head be cruel to you. I refuse to allow such heinous falsehoods to leave my lips, even my imaginary ones.”

As Hector listened to this, you noticed his eyes taking on a liquid shine, which he quickly tried to hide by looking down and away. After a long pause, he leaned up to kiss your forehead, then tucked you under his chin and against his chest.

“…You’re going to put my prose to shame if you carry on like that,” he said softly, but you could hear the smile there yet again.

“Yeah, well.” You kissed his chin, his soft jawline, the spot by his ear that made his breath catch. “What can I say? You’ve met your match, Condicionado.”

Hector hugged you even tighter, a blissful sigh ruffling your hair. “Even for as long as I watched you from afar, I had no idea just how well we suit each other.” He traced the bite marks he left in your shoulder with a fingertip, making you shiver pleasantly. 

You paused then, something occurring to you. “…Speaking of which.”

Hector raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Hold on.” You kissed his cheek before you gently removed yourself from his grasp, rolling over to the other side of your bed and reaching behind your nightstand.

You could feel the mattress shift as he sat up slightly, looking over your shoulder. “What do you have there, amor?”

“Okay, so.” You pulled a fairly thick, worn notebook out of a crevice, wiping away a smidge of dust before turning back to him. You hugged it slightly to your chest, feeling a bit… protective, even with him. “It’s not as nicely bound as yours, for one.”

Hector blinked, looking from you to the notebook and back again. “‘Mine?’” He sized it up, a glint of curiosity and hope in his eyes. “…Is that—”

“So after I met Mac,” you explained, unable to meet his eyes for a moment. “And they mentioned they had, uh… read my previous work,” you phrased it carefully. 

“‘Previous work?’” Hector repeated, looking more and more interested by the minute. 

“Well,” you said, shifting in place. “I figured… I didn’t want to take the chance of them discovering this one. Especially since, you know.” You chewed your lip, hoping you didn’t lose your nerve. “They, um. Know you. And all. It just felt… you know, like an invasion of privacy, so I figured I’d, um. Write it by hand. So it’s a little messy—”

“It’s handwritten?” Hector looked positively giddy when he looked back to you. “You wrote? About me?”

“Oh my god, do I write about you,” you muttered, having to look away when your face started to feel hot again. You cleared your throat slightly. “I… tend to use it as a way to work out some of my… more… obsessive feelings, shall we say?” You glanced at him from under your lashes. “So, uh. Just be advised--”

“PleasecanIreadit?” Hector’s tone was indistinguishable from when he’d asked you to come on his face, and his expression just as besotted.

“It gets better as it goes, I swear,” you said, passing the notebook into his eager grasp. “It just took me a minute to figure out just how to write you, after the first day—”

“The first day?” Hector looked up from where he’d immediately opened it. “That soon?”

“…Well, yeah,” you said, like this was obvious. “You were eloquent and mysterious. I was intrigued and… honestly super aroused,” you added in a shy mumble.

“Oh. Well. So that really was mutual.” Hector blushed even as he grinned, and his eyes eagerly fell back to the first page.

After you kissed his cheek again, you slipped to the bathroom to grab something to clean you both off.

A few quiet, content minutes passed as you let the water warm up, you idly running your fingers under the faucet — Winnifred must have been entertaining, so you didn’t mind waiting.

It wasn’t long after before Hector called your name.

“Yeah?” you called back, your mind still in a half-dreamy haze.

“I’m going to need you to get back here,” Hector said, his voice returned to its lower register. “And show me exactly what you mean about — does this say ‘ankles’?”

“…Oh! Yeah. That.” You smiled to yourself at the memory of writing that particular scene, shutting off the sink and heading back to your room with a warm washcloth in tow. “Well, okay, so we’re going to need some ice and a shibari rope for this chapter.”

“This chapter?”

“Yeah, you’ll see what I mean.”

“My god, my love, I hope so.”

I'm hoping I'll write some fluff of him too oh shit and spit kink I forgot that in this one, but. I wrote this when I was on my period and ran out of ice cream, what can I say.

if you read this far, you're an angel~ <3

[chara-cat5]

lads isekai au ch 13

reader is gender neutral, warning: swearing, mdni

masterlist

first 1

previous 12

next 14

(q/a for any confused readers!!)

even though caleb had off work, didn't mean you did. both you and mia had to report in the next day, you stuck with paperwork while she ran off on a mission. you felt bad for caleb just sitting at your apartment alone, but just assumed he'd find something to busy himself with. you shot mia a text after you got off, walking just outside the association when she messaged you back.

you: just got off and heading home. tell me if you need anything!!

mia: hey!!

mia: sorry to ask this, but dr. zayne said he had a new medicine for me.

mia: do you mind swinging by and picking it up?

mia: i know it's out of the way.

mia: promise i'll make it up to you!!

mia: especially after the raf thing.

mia: thank you btw

you: yeah sure!

you: and it's no problem, mia. i don't mind

you: just to check, i will be able to pick it up?

you: i don't need a note from you or something?

mia: thank you so much!! you're a life saver!

mia: and you should be fine without a note

mia: i'll just text zayne you're coming.

guess you were visiting a certain icy doctor instead of going straight home... you had told yourself you would avoid him and caleb because they both have history with you, but hanging around caleb wasn't a problem so far... except that one time he grilled you, but i mean, thats it! so really, your only issue was with sylus... which is sad, you liked the sweet loverboy dragon when you still believed this world was a game. but now it's life and he clearly didn't trust you... like at all. and you were worried what he would do to someone he thought knew too much.

you hummed softly as you entered the hospital, walking up to the front desk. the receptionist was on the phone but seemed to recognize you from your last visit, just waving you towards zayne's office. your steps clicked against the tile, the rest of the hall almost silent. zayne's office was just where it was before, the closed door looming before you. sure, it wasn't your first meeting with zayne, but you still felt nervous. what if he brought up old memories again? what would you do?

your hand raised to knock on the the door, but before you could even touch it, it swung open, right into your face. you let out a cry, stumbling back and gripping at your nose, tears pricking your eyes.

"ow! ah haha, owowow..."

you were started when cold hands gently tugged your's away, firm but not forceful. you blinked at hazel eyes, zayne's eyebrows pulled together as he looked over your features.

"sorry. i didn't realize you were here so soon."

you winced as he reached out to brush his fingers against your nose bridge, his hand retracting. he led you back into his office, pulling up the chair you sat in last time. you wiped under your nose when you felt wet, seeing it was bleeding.

"it's okay. mistakes happen you know. guess it's good i'm in a hospital, right?"

your attempt a humor was met with silence, his lips set in a firm line. you looked away as embarrassment crept in, fidgeting with a unnecessary buckle in your hunter's uniform.

"look at me."

you startled yet again when you looked back to him, zayne way closer then before. he knelt in front of you, gently taking your chin in his hand. his face was set, concentrated as he treated your nose with the upmost care. you couldn't help but take in his features, pliant as he patched you up. it's only when he pulled away you diverted your gaze, going back to fidgeting with that buckle.

"thank you, dr. zayne..."

"no need to be so formal. zayne will do."

he huffed softly, tossing the dirty tissues in the garbage. you chewed you lip, nodding slightly. right. known him since middle school...

"w-well, i mean, we're at your place of work. i'm just trying to be respectful."

he sat behind his desk, sorting through a few papers there.

"well, theres no need. it's only us here. i'd prefer it."

you hummed, nodding blankly as you shifted in your seat.

"alright, zayne... a-anyway, do you have mia's medication? that's what i was supposed to get before, you know..."

he nodded, pulling out a paper bag and placing it on his desk. you stood up and reached for it, only for him to slide it back toward him.

"i hope you've been taking it easy after your episode the other day."

you blinked, whiplash at the change in subject, frozen reaching for the medicine.

"episode?"

"mia mentioned that you fainted and slept for about two days. i would've visited if i was informed, but i was not. you should have come here and i told her as much..."

you saw a few emotions pass behind his eyes before he stuffed them down again. unreadable as ever, he slid the paper bag back toward you.

"please come to me next time. if not before or during, after at least. i would hate to know you were hurt or sick and i didn't help."

you picked up the bag of medicine, your thoughts stirred into a confusing jumble at his admission.

"r-right, of course doc- zayne. i'll be sure to tell you next time."

he hummed, sitting back down and turning his gaze back to his papers as he went back to sorting them.

"good. we wouldn't want another incident on the playground like the one back then."

you nodded, even though his mention of an 'incident' confused and intrigued you. it was better to not know then to ask and raise suspicion. you left with the medicine, not noticing the way his gaze tracked your form.

"... so you really don't remember..."

.

.

affinity l̵͇̓͜è̸͚̪̇v̴͓̇ḙ̸̅̐ľ̵͙͆ [12]

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taglist: @sleepisfortheweakpooh @plzdonutpercieveme @young-adult-summer @mentaltrouble2201 @noxus123 @asakiyu @leftpoetrymoon @hon3yydew @anemobabygirl @clandestienly @crimsonrubie @beaconsxd @yuurisfavblog @cutiesgaloree @udejoenrlddo @mephisto-with-a-knife @poptrim @rhoswen-drake @szafficat

hello loves!!

things are picking up in la story. pieces are in place, plans are in motion.

i am the big evil mastermind and there is no escape for anyone!! muhahahaha!!

anyway, make sure you're staying hydrated. eat a fruit if you can. i had an orange!!

thank you for reading!!

-chara <3

[ghuleh-yep]

A little something for my darling Chance

(I didn’t have a good title so thats gonna have to work)

Authors note: I'm so sorry if this is bad I haven’t written in so long😓feedback is appreciated! Anyways I hope you guys enjoy this!! Also i tried to make this as gender neutral as i possibly could (to which i think i did an okay job😼)

Wc: 988 (this is pretty short srry)

Summary: after a long G&G session it seems like Chance is questioning about your blooming relationship

Within the walls of your office the sounds of cheers and laughter can be heard. “You did it (Y/N)! You beat the dragon!” Chance exclaimed while looking at you jump around the room in joy, the 4 day long G&G session has finally come to a close. Once the mini celebration has died down you can hear a yawn come from one of your party members “aughh I am spent! That was so much fun though! Thank you Chance and (Y/N) for inviting me to play with you guys, we have to do this again soon!” Parker said while getting up from the floor to stretch out his long limbs, looking over from where you were standing you gave the man a smile and agreed. “Oh yeah that was amazing! How soon can we play another campaign?” You wait a few seconds for a response from Chance only to notice him spaced out while looking at you. “Uhh helloo? Chance?”

You lean over him and wave a hand in front of his face, startled from the hand in his face he lets out a yelp of some sort “Gah! Um I kind of don’t have anything else prepared so um maybee in like uhh two days?” Chance tries to hide the blush on his face by trying to focus on something else in the office other than the attractive person in front of him. “I'm gonna head to bed! See you guys tomorrow or something! I don’t know, bye!” Parker left the room only leaving you and Chance alone.

You sit back down in front of Chance, scooting closer to him, you reluctantly place a hand on his cheek. He leaned into your palm and finally looked at you with a flush on his face. “You were spaced out this whole session, what's on your mind lover boy?” You give him a soft smile waiting for his response “I'm so sorry my dearest, I've been brainstorming about all the possibilities for our next campaign.” Chance tries to make up an excuse but you catch it right away “Chance cmon I know you’re not telling me everything.” You raise your other hand, bringing it to the other side of his face forcing him to look at you. “Chance, don't lie to me, you know you can trust me.” Chance looks at you wanting to get his feelings off his chest, too terrified of rejection no matter all the flirting and pet names you two have for each other. “(Y/N).. what are we? I mean I know you like me and I like you but we never really talked about what we are. Yeah we already have nicknames and treat each other like we’re together but.. when are we gonna make it official?” Chance looks at you with worry on his face, scared that you’re gonna run off and never return to the office again. You take your hands off of his face to help you scoot even closer to the guy and give him a hug. “Oh Chance I’m so sorry that we never really talked about this, to be honest I was scared that it was too early to be talking about what our relationship is. I didn’t wanna move too fast and scare you away.” You rest your head on his chest, the angle was a bit uncomfortable but it worked. “Scare me away? What no! If anything I was terrified of scaring you off.” Chance lets out a light laugh trying to brighten you both up from the serious moment, you look up at the nerdy man “Well does this answer your question about us?” Without giving him a moment to question what was said you straighten up to grab his face making sure you don’t damage his glasses in any way, and give him a kiss on the lips.

Taken aback, Chance's breath hitched at the soft touch, his kiss was hesitant but passionate. The two of you made out for a few seconds before taking a second to breathe. “So.. does that mean we’re officially dating or what?” Chance blushes while rubbing the back of his neck “Yes you silly goose, you’re officially my man and i'm officially your person.” You give him a quick peck on the lips once more, a yawn coming from your mouth breaks the sweet silence between you both. “Oi I am tired! You wanna hit the hay with me?” You stretch to get up, leaving Chance sitting there staring at you in all of your glory. “As in sleep in the same bed? Are we even at that point yet?” “I don’t know? If you would like to, there's always a spot in my bed for you, plus I don’t think Betty would mind the extra company!” You lend Chance a hand, helping him get up from the floor, holding his hand still awaiting his response. “Uh yeah I’ll take you up on the offer!” Chance squeezes your hand and gives you a peck on your forehead “Ugh look at this mess we never cleaned up.” You look over to where yall were sitting and noticed, yeah you guys totally forgot to clean up the G&G campaign that was just finished. “Umm we’ll do that tomorrow, but for now let's focus on getting ready for bed okay?” Walking towards the door, Chance follows suit. “Yeah, that's an adventure for tomorrow.” And with that what used to be an ordinary D20 dice is now somehow your boyfriend, you don’t know what you'd be doing now if you never received those glasses but that's a thought for another time.

[ginandvodka-writes]

“You know? I’m sure that we’ve met before.”

Those words caught his attention; he looked up from his book to focus completely on you.

“Wha’ do ya mean, luv?” You pout slightly while thinking, trying to put your ideas in order. You knew you didn’t express yourself clearly, to you it’d sense, but from the outside it sounded weird.

“I don’t mean like, in a traditional way. We met just when I joined the team.” He frowned lightly, trying to understand you, so you continued. “I know we’ve met before, not in this life.” For a moment, everything was silent, you were still sorting through that carousel of ideas while he imagined your words.

“Ya mean, like reincarnation?” You nodded immediately. “Do ya believe in that?”

“I’m not sure, because it’s a spiritual concept that I’m not completely familiar with, but it’s a feeling, something that I know within.” He looked at you with that neutral expression of his, not judging you, he would never, he was just thinking about your words.

“Like soulmates?” You frowned and shook your head.

“No, no. None of that new age shit, those people are anti-vaxx, you know? That’s creepy.” He chuckled wholeheartedly; he loved the way your nose wrinkled when you made that grimace of disgust he loved so much. “I mean, we’ve met before in every past life, not because we were forced to do so, but because he chose each other.”

That fluttered his heart, his blood felt warm, hot like a volcano. Several images passed before his eyes, you dressed like a medieval maid, or like a hippie rebel woman driving in your Chevrolet G-Body while listening to The Beatles. And the best part was that he was next to you in every picture, seeing your beautiful smile that was made of sun rays.

“Is tha’ so?” He grabbed your hand tenderly, his thumb caressing your warm skin. You melted at his touch, just a simple brush was enough to make you feel safe and loved.

“Yeah. I know that I’ve met you in each one of my past lives, and in every one of them, I’ve chosen you. Not out of obligation but out of free will, because I wanted to be with you.”

This time he couldn’t take it anymore, his heart was ready to explode like hot soda, bubbling and uncontrollable, so he put his book aside, almost throwing it, and he crushed you in the couch, hiding his face in the crock of your neck. You giggled and patted his back tenderly despite that he was swallowing you with his body.

“And you know what else?” He growled softly, causing tickles through your body. “Perhaps we weren't always a couple, maybe our love was sometimes platonic, maybe sometimes we were family, simple friends, or even gender reversed." While you were caressing his scalp you could feel your hearts beating together at the same time, a rhythm of love. "But I know that in every version of us, in every form and no matter the time, we have chosen each other."

Finally, he looked up at you, his eyes were watery, glossy, but oh so full of love and devotion.

“And I’ll always continue to choose you.”

There was nothing else to say, he closed the almost non-existence distance and kissed you tenderly, a devotion that was like worshiping. Because you were right, in every past live you’ve chosen each other, loving in every possible way. It wasn't a matter of being predestined, but of loving in its purest and most sincere form, a love that transcended the tangible and life itself.

A love that you’d experience a thousand times over, and always, both of you would find a new way to love each other.

[y0ur-lovrr]

Chishiya with a reader who’s exceptionally good at spades games, like not super bright but runs out of strength way later than he does and he knows he’s got exponentially higher chances of surviving in a game that’s not his speciality if he can get friendly with you enough to be granted some protection. Perhaps getting friendlier than he initially intended.

—a little help.

Pairing; Chishiya x reader (gender neutral as always <3!

A/n; the ending might be rushed, did write this at 2 am, so forgive me! Also this isn’t proofread as always. But ty for the request!

—chishiya was smart, witty, and knew how to use his intelligence to his advantage. But not this time, spades games were not his specialty. They involved strength and athletic ability, he was more prone to diamond games because those games rely on intelligence and wit. So when he saw that he joined a high numbered spades game, he knew he had to come up with something.

He lets out a low and audible hum, his eyes scanning the room for someone who looks good enough to grant him some sort of protection. His hands are casually shoved into the pockets of his white jacket, hood over his head, eyes observing the tunnel everyone is in.

His eyes land on you, standing in the corner of the tunnel, holding a game phone and looking at it, the glow lighting up your face enough for him to see that you don’t look too concerned about this game. You certainly have experience, good for you. And him.

Good enough, he thought, starting to stride over to you, his footsteps lightly thudding against the grown as makes his way to you, not having an ounce of shame or concern about his intentions. He just needed a bit of protection, and if it meant using someone to get it, then so be it. That’s the way it is.

“Hey there,” he drawls on coolly, situating himself on the wall near you, leaning his back against it. He tilts his head, raising a brow slightly and giving you a light smirk, a bit smug, he knows what he’s doing. “Alone?”

He watches as you look up and look over at him, flashing him a small and friendly smile, nodding your head in reply and giving him your attention. “Mhm.! Is it that obvious?”

“Very.” He’s quick to reply, letting out an amused hum as he sees the way your eyebrows furrow slightly, debating if he was teasing or not. Which he was, but he also wasn’t-it was obvious you were alone. You were standing by yourself, of course it was. He can tell now that you weren’t the brightest bulb, or the sharpest tool in the shed if you would. Makes the work easy for him, you were like a confused puppy. The type to chase their own tail or ram into a window, the type to get friendly with others with no issue.

“Such a shame, really. Being alone in spade games never really is that good.” He murmurs, acting like he has no idea what his interests were. Hes nonchalant and cool like a fish in the pond, and he’s watching the way your eyebrows slightly raise as you listen, easily falling for the bait.

“Do you wanna team together then?” You ask, leaning a little closer to him, and you think it’s your idea-adorable, and he lets you think that it was your idea to begin with. He lets out an amused huff, pretending to think for a moment before speaking up, nodding his head. “Sure, couldn’t hurt. Let’s protect eachother, hm?”

You nod eagerly, flashing him a small grin, to which he doesn’t really return besides a nod of acknowledgment-he’s caught you like a fly in a spider web.

“Game: Run, Rabbit, run!” The familiar robotic voice calls out, making you and chishiya bother pause and listen in, your eyebrows furrowing at the name-what was this game gonna be about? Running, obviously, but from what? You share a glance with chishiya, shrugging your shoulders lightly. “Difficulty; 8 of spades.”

“An eight, huh?” He mutters under his breath, tongue wetting his lips as he thinks, already figuring out ways this game could go, standing up from the wall. The other players are also intrigued at the game, anxiety weaved across their features, some nervously twiddling their thumbs.

“Goal; reach the end of the tunnel without getting caught.” It says, and you nod slightly, putting the game phone into your back pocket, already turning to face the other end of the dark tunnel, lights flickering overhead. You reach over and tug on chishiya, getting him to turn too-you know that the best chance of surviving this game is that as soon as you can, to just start to run, you don’t really wanna know what’s going to chase you through this tunnel. “Time limit is one hour.”

And with that, it stopped. It was silent, and then you heard it-loud footsteps, and it wasn’t any of the players. You turn over your shoulder, eyes widening slightly as you see it-a man, a wolf mask over his head and a large blade in his hand, dark clothes, and he’s immediately lunging at people.

“Shit! Run!” You hiss, grabbing onto chishiya’s arm, and dragging him along with you as you begin to book it down the tunnel. He grunts but follows, his hands finally leaving his pockets as he jogs along side you, eyes strained forward.

The sounds of other players screaming and yelling is tuned out in your head, the sound of the blade swinging and hitting people-but your force yourself to ignore it, keeping your pace as you make sure chishiya stays with you.

Stay ahead, that’s the only thing you can really do in this game-stay ahead, or stay behind and fight back. But it seems you and Chishiya aren’t really fond of that idea.

“I’ll make sure you stay ahead-protect eachother, right?” You mutter in between breaths, sending him a look-and he just nods his head, glancing back at you. Oh jeez, you were genuinely willing to help him, and he strangely finds it endearing. I guess a puppy like you does get along with a cat like him, interesting.

—you grunt as you continue to run, your legs are starting to burn and your starting to feel sweat drop from your forehead and neck. Chishiya has been winded for a minute, but tried not to show it because you seem mostly fine, but you’re clearly starting to meet your match.

“Just a little more…” you huff out, continuing to run, but out of your peripheral vision you spot it, the knife is being thrown…impressively, but not the thing you want to happen. “Look out!”

He grunts as you suddenly push yourself against him, pushing him to the side, and he looks over and sees the knife slice against your shoulder, blood immediately gushing out as your shirt rips in that area. Great, just what you guys needed.

The sound of the blade landing on the floor echoes throughout the tunnel, and then the sound of your pained breaths, one of your hands reaching to hold onto your shoulder.

“The exit.!” You exclaim, letting out a huff of relief, suddenly pushing him with your good hand, shoving him past the exit line, following after.

“Game clear., three days have been added to your visas.” The voice calls out, but you both don’t care to notice it as you land onto your knees and sit on the floor, holding your shoulder and trying to catch your breath. He stands, shoulders slumping as he tries to catch his breath. He’s tempted to leave, to leave and walk away as if you never existed-but the way you’re sitting with your bleeding shoulder, doe eyes squeezed shut as you try to deal with the pain.

You looked like a kicked puppy, and he just stands there conflicted for a moment-this wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. You were supposed to help him get past this game and then we would have went along his way and forget you even existed. But he can’t help but feel like he wants to help, it’s only fair. He totally doesn’t want to do this because he wants to, right?

After a moment he sighs, staring down at you, the words coming out of his mouth before he could stop them. “I could help with that.”

—“fuck…easy on the alcohol, would you?” You wince, a bit of playfulness in your tone, but it’s obvious that it hurts. You’re sitting on the floor of his hotel room, he had taken you to the place known as ‘the beach’. Very chaotic, but he managed to find some peace and quiet in his room.

“You want me to treat it, don’t you?” He mocks, pressing a bit harder just to make a point, causing you to tense and hiss in discomfort, but you just frown and mumble a small “yea..” and then he eases the pressure with the alcohol wipe. “Then quit complaining.”

You just nod, spreading your legs out in front of you, staring ahead of you as he treats your shoulder with the little supplies he has, letting him work on your shoulder. It’s quiet besides the sound of yours and his breathing, and the occasional wince that slips from your lips.

He’s enjoying the quiet, treating your shoulder with a calm nature, his doctor experience clear on his actions. And he nearly lets out a sigh when you speak, curiosity clear in your voice.

“So you were a doctor before all of this?”

[larrythefloridaman]

This was supposed to be the short version of the basis of this read but it got away from me BIG time:

Jenny has gone on record as saying 'gender is probably weird for gods,' which tracks given the natural state of the three C's being has been established as not being their corporeal person-shaped manifestations, but abstract saturations of their color in the fabric of reality, the corporeal manifestations being a kind of conduit for more easily interacting with mortals when necessary. Their 'natural state' is kind of separated from gender entirely.

This being said, Crimson is initially established as being sort of genderless in a 'the concept isnt applicable' way that lines up with this- but as it's character and some traits of how it carries itself are established, that sort of... melts away, Crimson becoming percieved as somehow vaguely masculine in nature as the neutrality it started with is kind of phased out, Crimson possessing male hosts being kind of unconsciously picked up by the commentators as a sort of 'coded' gender, and by the time chartreuse shows up, Crimson is her 'brother.' Crimson was assigned maleness with it's growing establishment in the narrative and mortal society and this echoes back into how it's percieved by it's family, who theoretically would also be genderless but have gendered identities assigned to them as well. "doesnt that make them all transgender in a way" not really. this functionally reads to me like getting your gender assigned at birth but in a metaphysical retroactive narrative way as a physical adult fully formed like aphrodite that's never had to concieve of themselves as gendered instead of as a baby that doesnt know what the fuck a gender is. You can read any of them as trans in some direction if so desired but not because of this.

At no point has Crimson ever really asserted it's own comfort and happiness in identifying with manhood, to my memory- merely accepted and tried to perform it to sometimes questionable and destructive results. Now, cpu kerfuffle doesnt often get into the nitty gritty of that sort of thing, transness is presented often very mundanely and without detail in the text so subjects like gender dysphoria/euphoria arent really closely explored, so that in and of itself isnt super substantial as it not unique to crimson, theres plenty of characters where this would just be something that doesnt get addressed at all including ones that are canonically explicitly trans- but I'll get into why it feels significant in later bullet points. Its just necessary context.

In time, Crimson possessing valentine and clinging to him, an 'ideal man,' and an 'ideal performer' in one (and notably attempting more than really any other possessee to convince others to treat them as synonymous,) and aspects of Cobalt's eventual introduction tees up a subtextual idea that Crimson clinging to masculinity is a kind of overcompensation for feeling inadequate as a man in relation to the inadequacy its made to feel in the role it's been told it has due to the extra scrutiny placed on it and that it very pointedly overcompensates for in a dual-pronged sort of way. its a thing it never actually asked to be and maybe enjoys or is good at parts of, but perhaps feels it cannot escape in a similar way as it's role as a villain and scapegoat and as such leans into it in its own way as an attempt at asserting a sense of control over a role it feels both like its trapped by and is failing to live up to, supported by, for an example, the Dream Captain Crimson, a snapshot of sorts of Crimson's past self at it's worst while possessing Valentine insulting its current self's softening and showing it's care for the people around it more by calling Crimson a 'pansy,' a derogatory term softball enough to usually still get past censors for a weak, effeminate queer man deemed lesser for its failure to live up to the expectations of masculinity.

In relation to that, Crimson softening also means its failing to uphold its obligation to the rules cobalt lives by and usually expects for the gods to stick to in relation to mortals as much as possible- minimal attachment, minimal interaction, do your work and get out, 'you are superior and must remain emotionally distant, because you're too different from the other side of this definitely strictly binary concept for us to ever truly understand eachother' which in context of the christian flavored religious nature of their relationship with spectrum and how Cobalt's rules are formed in relation to keeping Prism happy, whose motive is a myopic devotion to making spectrum happy by feeding it narratives she's crafted in its honor that she thinks it'll like, feels a bit like its a parallel for concepts like the protestant work ethic and complimentarianism, the latter of which is whats important here. Complimentarianism is the christian gender concept that men and women (as a strictly binary concept in this restrictive worldview,) both exist to fulfill certain specific roles in the world and exist to compliment eachother, because they can never fulfill the same roles the other does by their intrinsic spiritual nature. Women are 'meant to be' nurturing and emotional, men are 'meant to be' leaders and problem-solvers. We're all gay and transgender here we should all know why this is fucking stupid

All of the gods cross the line on these rules at least a bit, because its kind of impossible not to, the boundary lines are so closed in on them as to make even interacting with mortals violative outside of strict business on paper. Prism breaks these rules leaning on technicalities after deciding to get involved as an assertion of her power and a reflection of her general hypocrisy (notably, the mortals she interacts directly most with are mortals she intends to make into gods, everyone else she merely speaks through :)) and Cobalt shuffles over the boundary line a bit largely out of jealousy of what his siblings are getting out of the other side then gets uncomfortable when its hard and weird and goes badly and goes back in but Crimson and Chartreuse take things quite a bit farther. Crimson has taken up living in assorted mortal's shoes through possession as a self-indulgence of sorts while still internalizing hard this fundamental difference between them and repressing and running from genuine feelings of connection, and then... Chartreuse crossed the boundary between gods and mortals to love one, and reject what she'd been born to be, and didnt look back. Which is distinctly transgender in its own way.

But to rewind a bit- before chartreuse did that and permanently shifted the paradigm- we have CPUK Orange. A lot of this has been a thematic case but crimson's last appearances in the streams are where the more direct and literal evidence is. A lot of what Crimson says and does in this episode of the streams was extremely revealing in a lot of ways, and it does some important work for this interpretation on top of it all. In this episode, Crimson experiences multiple accidental skin changes which are addressed diegetically- once into the trainer of justice skin with an associated outburst which sort of just confuses him, and then twice into the same skin, Skin 2, the leaf skin.

The first time, Crimson reprises trainer of justice's bit about Accidentally Transing Your Gender and when asked by P.rool (notably best friend of a person whose future self is trans but doesnt really... recognize who their post-transition future self even is, which has always been interesting to me,) why Crimson 'turned into a girl for a second,' Crimson, sounding oddly comfortable and casual in contrast to a lot of intros being Crimson goading the contestants into hurting him, tells him not to worry about it before having just about the friendliest interview of the episode hell therapuppy seemed cautiously supportive of them forming some kind of friendship she just wanted to make sure prool was mindful of protecting his boundaries because crimson has a bad history with that before Crimson panicked and used him as a sort of human shield at the end there

The second Leaf skin change happens at the top of the interview with j0hn (popularly understood as transgender although I suppose never technically explicitly confirmed as such, closest to it comes in the form of this very interaction,) where Crimson, sounding almost bubbly in a way that's only really matched in the episode by Crimson's inability to hide an affection for funbox, says "oops, gender moment" to which j0hn replies "yeah, feel that-" as a quick little exchange before the conversation carries on like nothing happened, crimson falling back into the usual schtick. It kind of reads like a brief portrayal of gender euphoria! Theres a real excitement in it.

Again, these alone would be easy to write off as momentary jokes particularly by their accidental nature but these jokey moments being played as diegetic combined with Crimson's awareness of the fourth wall and narrative of slowly succumbing to defeatism in a role its been caged into and desperately clawing for a semblance of control over it's own life paints a bit of a tragic and loaded picture, thematically, even before the next bit, which Hurts,

After Orange, Crimson possesses Larry, a shapeshifter- but the first and last and only time we see Crimson use this power before the end of the streamed show was to disguise as Squid Jenny in CPUK Blue- only to quickly be discovered due to an inability to mask the gravel in Crimson's voice, caught sneaking around 'disguised' as the narrative's most prominent trans girl by an oppressive religious conservative (in the most direct 'resistant to change and attracted to Tradition™ and clean uncomplicated narratives even when its become transparently unsustainable with a higher power and what they think it ordains as their justification' sense of the word,) roles-obsessed parental figure and be told that her innate nature is to decieve and subvert and be destroyed for it but live on to do it over and over again in the interest of the 'heroes' always having an enemy to fight, and that she's doing a fantastic job of it, and she only needs to look at herself to see how, and this transparently devastates Crimson. We don't see it again for the remainder of the streamed show. we leave crimson paralyzed by this.

This, within the full context of everything and within this read of the character, is loaded on so many levels its almost dizzying. Its about passing its about respectability its about deciding who someone is for them and interpreting their every action through that lens no matter what they might do or why they might do it its about unpalatable abuse victims and charismatic abusers and who people are more likely to believe its about 'bad seeds' who were never given a chance in the first place its about who gets to be who they honestly are in their heart and who gets left behind because of a lack of support. Its about the relationship between subversive and confrontational art and reactionaries who desire both to constrain it's true messages and hold it up in all its messiness and say 'look at how evil and perverse and wrong this is!' to take advantage of discomfort with being challenged to turn them against the vulnerable who push up against the boundaries.

In the dreams, Crimson seems to accept this as her lot in life with a sense of barely hidden grief that slowly burns the resolve to keep pretending out of her, the hope- that crimson could be in control of her life, her identity, in control in any way over how Prism saw her, even if that meant pretending she really was what Prism would've percieved and framed her to be regardless of her choices, that she was that on purpose, lying to herself about her own power and agency in the situation when she didnt want it, she wanted to feel like she wasn't at anyone's mercy- has been dismantled as the false comfort it was. this lie is worn down, until Crimson finally starts to let it go, and in that, while her internalized beliefs and the baggage of how they led her to act out are far from resolved, she seems to free herself by accepting her own genuine powerlessness in how someone like Prism will frame her because other people will see her how they choose to see her, and she starts to do as she really wants and believes in instead of trying to appease OR fight an enemy thats already decided and will not be swayed, and simply take challenges as they come, accept support where it comes from and in that, we see her soften, relax, connect, become a little less attached to the Big Bad persona to do her job playing search and rescue for the rest of the cast, grow reflective on how much time shes wasted playing the role she was given and how she'd like to enjoy whatever time she has left and wants others to do the same. and people's opinions on her soften a bit too, when she lets herself just be softer and when people know what made her the way she is, as much as Crimson seems to detest being viewed as a victim of anything.

Additionally, while Crimson's hosts, the people Crimson uses over the course of the show are all men*, the majority of the character's most important narrative relationships are with women, between the complicated foil relationship with Dani, closeness with Chartreuse, Crimson feeling an instant connection to Juniper's rowdy troublemaking and Prism seeing Crimson in the face of that same scared little girl when she finally admits she has something to apologize for, and the exceptions to this trend are Cobalt (which is own whole bag of worms ive talked a lot about in the past,) two particular characters Crimson possessed- Valentine, a comfortably masculine romantic ideal which Crimson possesses, struggles to emulate and live vicariously through by taking control of his life and hurts him in the process, and Crimsonaut, a scrawny smartass fawning nerdguy whose relationship with Crimson is comparatively more amicable but was always still a compromise colored with resentment, because Crimsonaut was built to be Crimson's cage and they met because Crimson got caught in him when Crimsonaut needed his help to get home after being left for dead. They 'made it work' for a while as crimsonaut once put it, but clearly something had to give eventually- and Folk, another of the show's most prominent trans characters and distinctly someone whose relationship to her sister made Crimson sort of scared and uncomfortable through its transgressiveness in the cibling's status quo in a way that lead Crimson to do what she usually does when shes scared (lash out) but can now readily connect with him, even if that still kinda looks like theyre butting heads. because thats just sort of how she is and Folk knows how important it can be to meet somebody where they're at. lol

*honestly jury's still out on whether shantae counted as a possession or not but even if she was she was also kept locked up in hell and whether that's because she was already in cahoots with crimson or just because crimson was helping her break out of jail remains unclear to me. data point too blurry etcetera etcetera ceiling fan

TL;DR: would transition fix her? probably not But much more importantly it Would save her

Been playing toys with the transfem crimson design a bit more. she's like a haunted barbie to me. carrie white chic. Girls who could and would do the jennifer's body lighter trick to show off

[randomnonsensedragonage]

Sharing one last playlist! The one I made for Emmrich, who I went back and romanced with my same initial Rook XD

Emmrich Romance (and general vibes)

Link: here

Featuring: "Did we just become best friends? Yes," Goth friends-to-lovers, obligatory Manfred song, obligatory Hezenkoss song, songs about bones, songs about death, songs about ghosts, fancy lad songs, starts sillier and gets more romantic

Track list under the cut

"William Fitzwilliam," The Decemberists

"Beautiful Mind," Tom Cardy, Brian David Gilbert

"My Life is Better With You," Montaigne

"Ghost Duet," Louie Zong

"Breezy Slide," Louie Zong, Brian David Gilbert

"You Are My Son," Brian David Gibert

"L.I.C.H.," Ginny Di

"You Probably Get That a Lot," They Might Be Giants

"Guilty As Sin?," Taylor Swift

"Overkill," Colin Hay

"When He Sees Me," Sara Bareilles (from Waitress)

"St. Peter's Bones," Girlyman

"Tango De Amor," Orchestra (from The Addams Family musical)

"For Me... Formidable," Charles Aznavour

"Everything in You," Half Shy (from Fionna and Cake)

"La Vie en Rose," Con O'Neill (from Our Flag Means Death)

"When You're in Love," Jung Wook Jin, Hong Ji Hee (from Maybe Happy Ending, English here if you're curious!)

"When the River Meets the Sea," Paul Williams (from Emmett Otter's Jug Band Christmas)

"invisible string," Taylor Swift

"In My Life," The Beatles

"BIRDS OF A FEATHER," Billie Eilish

"One Fine Day," David Byrne

[amusl02]

Son of Ogre

[marblemoovt]

Waterfall - Guts/Reader

Masterlist

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, A sprinkle of angst, AFAB Reader, Porn with a little bit of Plot, Oral Sex, Fingering, P in V Sex, Edging, Aftercare (Let me know if I'm missing any)

Summary:

Months after the eclipse, you're still grappling with it all. But at least you're not alone. You might as well get railed to ease the burden of living.

------

“I’m ok,” you repeat, smiling more easily now. His brows furrow and he rests his forehead against yours. 

“I could have lost you,” he whispers, his eyes sheen in the light. You click your tongue and pinch his cheek. Guts scowls but doesn’t move away. 

“But you didn’t. I’m right here. I’m standing right in front of you, so why do you keep looking back?” There’s a slight tremor in your tone. You unclench your fists, pushing him back to create some distance. There’s a brief flash of emotion across his face, but it dissipates with the heat simmering your blood. “I’m right here,” you whisper against the roar of the waterfall. 

Note:

Hello! I know I disappeared for like, almost a year. No freak accidents or anything of the like. Life has just been busy and I have poor time management. But I missed writing, even though it did not miss me ;-; The writing gods did not bless me with inspiration for a long while, not to mention I have a stubborn habit of only having one wip at a time (I have multiple ideas, but I only work on one fic at a time).

In any case, I hope this brings joy to somebody. I am frankly tired from editing this monstrosity so I'll leave you to enjoy :)

Happy Reading! ヾ(•ω•`)o

Note: This does take place in the same universe as Love Triangle but this can be read as a stand-alone.

Water cascades down your body, beating into your skin. The temperature was freezing earlier, but now it’s numbed into a slight chill. You stare at the rock wall, trailing along the cracks and crevices that crater the surface. Sprinkles of minerals sparkle throughout, reflecting rainbows when the moonlight hits them just right. 

The cold bite of metal stings into your shoulder, and you jerk away from the contact. Whirling around, you come face to face with Guts. He stares at his hand, clenching it into a fist before it drops to his side. 

“You’re gonna freeze to death,” he says. You notice the gray towel peeking out behind his arm. 

You drag your fingers through your hair, shaking off the water droplets. A few stray drops trickle down your chin, and Guts watches them drip along your collarbone. “I’ll be done soon,” you say. The phantom blood still sticks to your raw skin, the scent of iron lingering while your body becomes a collage of self-inflicted wounds. You scrubbed and scrubbed, but it’s not enough. Not even an entire ocean can wash away the atrocities you witnessed. But maybe that’s the burden of surviving the eclipse, for living when you were marked for death. 

“You looked done 20 minutes ago. Skin’s gonna start peeling if you don’t stop,” he says. You look away from Guts and pick at the dead skin underneath your nails, grimacing at your wrinkled fingertips.

“I don’t feel done. I don’t think I ever will,” you admit in a hushed whisper. Guts doesn’t say anything, offering his hand for you to take. Accepting the gesture, you’re tugged into his chest. The soft towel gently pats your skin dry and tousles your wet hair. He pauses, eyes scanning your face. “I’m okay, as okay as one can be in our situation.” Your lips twitch into a small smile, but this seems to only frustrate him more. 

Guts growls, his jaw clenched shut. “I’ll kill him.” There’s no room for questioning who ‘he’ is. You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, and his posture relaxes. Your thumb traces the bags underneath his eyes. 

“I’m ok,” you repeat, smiling more easily now. His brows furrow and he rests his forehead against yours. 

“I could have lost you,” he whispers, his eyes sheen in the light. You click your tongue and pinch his cheek. Guts scowls but doesn’t move away. 

“But you didn’t. I’m right here. I’m standing right in front of you, so why do you keep looking back?” There’s a slight tremor in your tone. You unclench your fists, pushing him back to create some distance. There’s a brief flash of emotion across his face, but it dissipates with the heat simmering your blood. “I’m right here,” you whisper against the roar of the waterfall. 

“I’m not…. ”He sighs and finally meets your gaze. “I’m not angry at you.” Guts fiddles with the towel in his hand. “I wasn’t strong enough to save you.” His touch drifts towards the bandages wrapping his torso. 

You walk up to Guts, enveloping him in a hug. “Can we pretend for once that everything is ok? That spirits aren’t hunting us, and a bunch of Apostles won’t fuck up the world?” When he doesn’t respond, you look to see him staring at the ceiling. “Guts?”

“Clothes,” he stutters. “You’re not wearin’ any.” You look down at your naked body pressed against his. 

“You weren’t shy earlier when you were drying me.” Leaning in further has the desired effect when you feel a bulge against your lower abdomen. “Looks like someone has no complaints,” you say with a smirk. 

Guts groans and shudders when you roll your hips. He wraps an arm around your waist, palm splayed against the curve of your back. His hand slides to squeeze your ass, and he whispers into your ear, “Don’t provoke me.” It’s a similar tone to when he shouts orders on the battlefield. You take it as an invitation to tease him further. He notices the glint in your eyes and clicks his tongue. “Brat.”

You know he’s soft beneath that tough exterior. You can see it in how he brings you something warm to drink when it’s cold, how his hands naturally gravitate to your waist or the small of your back. Guts doesn’t like saying it, but you just know. Currently, he’s scolding you for being in the water too long. You won’t point it out, but he grabbed the softest towel to dry you. 

“I love you,” you say. His hands freeze, and the lines on his face soften. 

Guts sighs, “How can you be so lovely and infuriating at the same time?” He cups your cheek but quickly recoils upon noticing the gleam of metal contrasting against your skin. 

You grab his wrist and press a kiss onto the palm of his prosthetic hand. “It’s one of my many talents,” you reply, pressing another kiss to his lips to prevent him from biting them. 

“It’s strange,” Guts mumbles. Your other hand slides down his chest, trailing along his abs to the waistline of his pants. His breath hitches, and he nips your earlobe in retaliation. “Sometimes I still feel it when you touch that hand,” he says. 

“Do you feel this?” You trace the outline of his growing erection, eventually rubbing your hand against the bulge in his trousers. He bucks his hips into your touch, and a low groan escapes from his lips. “Or what about this?” Slipping your hand beneath the fabric, you’re surprised by the lack of an additional layer. “Expecting something, are we?” You grin impishly at him, inching your fingers closer to his cock. Your skin is still cold from the water, and Guts is blazing beneath your touch. 

“Not at”—you firmly grip his shaft and begin stroking languidly—”all,” he forces through gritted teeth. You can almost hear the creak of his jaw as it strains under pressure.

“So you weren’t expecting to find me still naked at the waterfall and indulge in some intimate acts?” You stop stroking to tease the head of his cock, running your thumb over the frenulum. Thick precum coats your hand, and you reluctantly pull away, but only to see the frustration grow on Guts’s face. “Then I guess there’s no need for me to continue.” You wade through the pool and use the waterfall to rinse your hand. 

As you’re flicking off water droplets, a broad chest presses against your back, and thick arms wrap around your waist. The sudden force pushes you into the rock wall, your hands flying up out of instinct to lessen the impact. You turn your head to see Guts, completely bare, his clothes lying in a forgotten heap by the pool. That explains what’s twitching against your lower back. You grind slow, lazy circles against his stiff cock, grinning at how he trembles with the slightest rock of your hips.

“Stop,” he pleads, squeezing his arms to constrain your movements. It’s cute; he’s pretending to stop you, but his hold is too lax. 

You hum and redirect one of his hands to your breasts, sighing at the contact. “If you really wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t be enthusiastically rutting like a dog in heat,” you say. As if to prove your point, a low whine pitches in the back of his throat when you press against him to hinder his movements. 

“So maybe I don’t want to stop,” he admits. “Maybe I want to rough you up against the wall until you can’t walk the next day.” The imagery sends a gush of slickness between your thighs, and you rub them together to ease the ache. 

“Then why don’t you?” You spin around to face him and hook one leg around his thigh, tugging his hips closer. The sharp exhale followed by a groan is music to your ears. Your arms drape over his shoulders, sinking your nails into his broad back. You have him trapped. Or is it the other way around? He could effortlessly pry you off, but his dark eyes hold no intention of letting you go. “I don’t break easily, you know,” you whisper against his lips, his breath fanning your face. 

Guts bites his lips, fingers bruising your hips, marks he’ll kiss in the morning when you’re bedridden. “I—“

You cut him off, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “Let me make myself clear, Guts. I want you to fuck me.” His breath hitches, the click of his throat silenced by the rush of water. “Fuck me so damn hard I don’t remember a thing about this shitty world we live in.” You want to spend at least an hour free from the waking nightmare that plagues your daily life. Maybe this isn’t the best way, but it is the most pleasant. 

You know you’ll go to bed and dream of crimson skies and shrill screams. A world where the tang of metal never leaves your mouth. Where rot and decay fester in your lungs, smothering you alongside the scent of burning flesh. And then you’ll wake up, touch your face to feel the wet streaks streaming down your cheeks. Guts will be sleeping beside you, faring no better in his dreams, relaxing only when you hold his hand and lay on his chest.

Yeah, the world is fucked up, and so is your mental state. You might as well get railed to ease the burden of living.

But enough about later. What’s happening right now is important. And what’s happening right now is Guts pleading with his eyes to please you. He has one arm hooked underneath your leg to support it, the other still wrapped around your waist, hand dipping to cup your ass. He grinds his erection against your clit, and you bite your lip to hold back a moan.

Guts kisses behind your ear, sucking on the spot. Your blood thrums through your veins, buzzing with electricity. “Guess the waterfall will be useful,” he says.

“How so?” you hum, closing your eyes as he trails his lips along your jawline. You tilt your head back, and he peppers your exposed throat with kisses, playfully nipping but careful to avoid breaking the skin. A tingle shoots up from the base of your spine when his teeth scrape over your pulse, tongue laving over your racing heartbeat.

“Others won’t hear any of your screams.” He hoists you up, and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. “I get to have you all to myself.” Your back thuds against the wall, the rough rock leaving a light sting on your skin. There’s a hunger in his eyes that threatens to devour you. He always gets that look when he’s determined to spoil you rotten.

You ignore the throbbing heat in your core, focusing on the slanted curve of his lips. “Ooh, confident are we?” you tease, dragging your nails across his back, grinning at the shudder it elicits. 

“I’ve always been skillful with my hands,” he says, lowering your feet. At the shallow end of the pool, water laps at your knees. The chill heightens the burn of your skin, and the slickness between your thighs becomes impossible to ignore. Guts sinks down, kneeling in front of you, hands parting your legs gently. He tuts and gazes at you with mock scorn. “You cleaned up earlier, but now you’ve made a mess again.”

“And whose fault is that?” you reply, inhaling sharply when his fingers rub circles into your thighs. 

He hums and plants a kiss on your kneecap, lips skirting up closer to the source of your dripping cunt. “A man should always take responsibility for his actions.” His warm breath is like a spark of flint on kindling. It starts a blazing heat that crawls up and pools in your stomach, spreading throughout your veins until your entire body is engulfed in flames. 

A thin veil of fog blankets your mind. For a second, you almost forget how to breathe. He looks up at you from between your legs, tongue swiping across his bottom lip. He looks eager to taste you; it causes you to clench tightly, gripping around nothing but air. And you want him to fill you up, to replace the void the eclipse left behind after it tore almost everything from you. 

Your body seizes up. A cool jet of air against your clit catches you off guard. Guts looks you in the eyes, trapping you in their dark depths. “If—at any time—you want me to stop, tell me,” he commands. His lips are pressed into a thin line, and he holds your gaze. He won’t continue unless you agree. 

You wrack your brain together, drumming your fingers on the wall behind you to form a coherent thought. But all you can focus on is his warm breath against your skin, the burning ache in your core that beckons for his attention.

Guts sighs, drinking in your scent deeply. He licks his lips, and his fingers dig into your flesh. “I don’t want this to be like the other times,” he admits. 

You stare at him quietly, observing the clarity in his eyes. This isn’t the first time you’ve sought each other’s company. After all, who better to seek comfort from than someone who’s been through the same traumatizing event? Overcome with grief and guilt, you found solace in the warmth of his body and vice versa. It wasn’t always sexual, but sometimes you crave the shelter of having no other thoughts besides pleasure. To know nothing else but pure bliss for a brief respite.

Guts mistakes your silence for rejection. “Let me cherish you,” he pleads. “Let me worship you the way you deserve.” And you recall dark nights of clashing teeth and tongues, scratches and bruises made just to feel something—anything. There’s still a tinge of purple around his collarbone, the imprint of your teeth long faded. The harsh lines on his face are nonexistent. His touch is light, revering. 

You don’t think you’ve ever felt this important. Guts doesn’t treat you like glass. He looks like he would raze the entire world in flames for you, and all you need to do is ask. Cupping his chin in one hand, you stare into his earnest eyes. Guts pulls away to plant kisses along your knuckles. The corners of his mouth curl up at your sigh when he nips at your fingertips. It’s hard to describe this feeling. All the tension and worry in your body building up like a brick wall suddenly crumbles to dust. 

And how can you say no when he looks so eager to please—to love you? A brief taste of copper coats your tongue, and you ignore the phantom claws dragging down your lower abdomen. You focus instead on Guts’s soft touches, the steady gurgle of water, and the moonlight filtering through the pockets of sky in the ceiling. 

You are safe. 

“Ok,” you whisper. Slowly, you spread your legs apart and cool your burning cheeks with the back of your hand. “Please touch me.”

Guts plants a kiss on your inner thigh, trailing upwards. He wants to drag this out and tease you until the anticipation has you dripping with need. With one calloused hand resting on your pubic mound, he licks a long stripe through your folds, groaning at your intoxicating taste. A jolt of pleasure crawls up your back before slamming into your core. 

Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head when he eats you out messily. Obscene slurps and groans bounce off the rock walls. Guts slings one of your legs over his shoulder and focuses on your clit, inserting two fingers into your dripping cunt. Spots of light dance across your vision when he crooks his fingers to stroke your sweet spot. It’s a wonder how you’re still standing. 

Just as the band in your stomach goes taut, Guts pulls away. The pleasure building in your body drops and transforms into a sharp ache that has your body screaming for release. 

“Your legs are trembling,” Guts points out. 

You press harder against the wall and try to remember how to stand. “No, I’m not,” you say. 

Guts hums and plants a kiss on your clit, the kind that fills your veins with lava and sets off the butterflies in your stomach. “You can be so damn stubborn.” He stands and carries you with ease, wading towards the edge. 

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

“Some underwater training,” Guts replies, refusing to elaborate further. He stops and sets you on the ground. The water reaches just below your chest in this position; the sudden coldness shocks your skin. It makes you hyper-aware of your sensitivity. 

Gus parts your legs, and you lean back slightly, using your arms to support yourself from behind. His touch radiates familiarity, hands caressing all the spots that work you up. You lick your lips and part then to ask another question. “Wha—“ 

“Always wanted to see how long I could hold my breath,” Guts cuts you off, petting your clit gently. He gazes at you through hooded lids, a grin ghosting his lips. “They say the average is 3-5 minutes. Let’s set a new record.” His words send tingles throughout your body, and you clench at the thought. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, distracted by the circles he’s drawing with his thumb. If you time it just right, you can buck your hips and have him stroke your swollen clit. 

“Don’t worry about it.” And the next thing you know, his head’s underwater and his tongue is prodding at your entrance. Your fingers immediately thread his hair, tugging his scalp when his nose brushes against your clit.

The water and walls blur into blobs of colour, your heartbeat thundering in your eardrums. The throbbing between your thighs quickens, and that band in your stomach threatens to snap and give you whiplash. Guts brings a hand up close to your clit. You squeeze your eyes shut, dangling on the precipice of an orgasm. 

He surfaces from the water. His shit-eating grin only widens when you vocalize your discontentment. A flick to your clit shortcircuits your brain with a jolt of pleasure, eliciting a scream from your lips. One of your hands slips, and suddenly the world is careening backwards—or is it forwards? 

Strong arms wrap around your body, and suddenly you’re face to face with Guts instead of the ceiling. Water splashes and drenches both of you in the crossfire. You try to stand up, but Guts digs his fingers into your hips. Something warm brushes against your bare cunt. 

This new position has you straddling Guts. Even the most minuscule movements cause some degree of friction. The look in his eyes tells you that he’s barely restraining himself. Since his hands hold your hips in place, you lean forward and attack his neck with bites and hickeys. Guts hisses and immediately stands up, hoisting you with him. 

“Let’s move to land. Wouldn’t want you to drown,” he rasps, shuddering when you lick over his racing pulse. 

“I can think of other ways to leave me breathless,” you whisper, lifting your head and baring your neck. The perfect place for his hands to wrap around. 

“Another time. Right now, I want you to sit on my face,” he says, setting you on the ground. Your cunt throbs in response, and you crawl—a little too eagerly—into position. You stop mere centimetres from his face, hovering in your hesitation. Inklings of doubt blot your thoughts. What if you’re too heavy? What if you smother— “Too long,” he grunts, interrupting your inner monologue. Guts grips your thighs and pulls you down, wasting no time ravaging you with his tongue,

You suck in a breath, hips rocking at a steady rhythm. Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head when his mouth latches around your clit and sucks greedily. He pulls away with a pop, the bottom half of his face glistening with your arousal. He licks his lips and groans, “Fuck, you taste amazing.” 

“Less talking, more licking,” you say.

“What, no please?”

You don’t humour him with a response and take matters into your own hands. You lift your hips and grind against the ridge of his nose.

Guts swears under his breath, inhaling your intoxicating scent. “What am I going to do with you?” he groans. 

You huff in frustration at the loss of stimulation. “What you should have done ages ago. Now shut up before I make you.”

Guts doesn’t move. “Not until you say please,” he says.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” you moan, wriggling your hips to no avail since his hands have barred you from moving any lower.

“I just want to hear you beg for it.” He spreads your lips and admires how wet you are. When you remain silent, he massages the area surrounding your clit. “No? Not gonna cave in?”

You narrow your eyes and scrape your nails against his broad chest. “Fuck, you.” It comes out through gritted teeth. 

Guts chuckles. A low sound filled with mirth. “Oh, love. You wish.” His thumb probes your entrance, pulling out to slide along your slit. “I do have to praise you for holding out this long. It must feel unbearable.” And it does. Your skin is about to burst at the seams as the pleasure threatens to drive you mad. Never given enough to bring you over the edge, but just enough to stimulate the ache in your core—the desire to be filled. 

“Not. At. All.”

Guts clucks his tongue, drawing circles around your swollen clit. “Liar.” He slowly pushes a finger into your cunt, adding another when he feels how wet you are. It doesn’t take long before the squelches reach your burning ears. His fingers curl and stroke that sensitive area on your walls. The pace is agonizingly slow, and it only deepens the ache. You bite down on your bottom lip, almost hard enough to draw blood. 

Your body trembles when he plants a kiss on your clit. Ah, to hell with playing hard to get. You might die if he doesn’t give you an orgasm right now. 

“Guts?” you groan, clenching when he pets your clit in response. 

“Yes, my love?” He sounds so smug. You don’t even need to look to see the smirk on his face. 

“…Please,” you whisper, hissing when he stops his ministrations. 

“Didn’t catch what you said. Gonna need you to repeat that.” He slowly resumes his movements, rubbing his fingertips against your walls. 

You grunt and try to focus, blinking to clear the fog in your brain. “Please. Fuck. Me.” You punctuate each word with a thrust of your hips. Guts’s fingers immediately retract, and you whine at the loss, only to throw your head back when he eats you out like a man starved. 

His hands hold you in place, only allowing enough freedom to ride his face, which you do—greedily. He runs the flat of his tongue across your slit. Every so often he comments on how good you taste, normally ending with how he can never get enough. You don’t know. You don’t really care.  He’s drawing patterns on your clit, each stroke bringing you closer to climax. 

And you’re so close. You can almost feel it. Guts must sense it, too, because he focuses on your clit, hands locking you snugly against his face. With his unrelenting tongue, you cum with a scream. Your entire body buzzes with electricity, clit throbbing in time with your clenches. Guts doesn’t stop, and soon the pleasure borders on pain. It’s too much. You jerk away, but he keeps you trapped in his hold. 

You can’t think anymore. You can only incoherently babble for him to let you go. And then it creeps up on you. The aftershocks of your last orgasm, combined with the continued stimulation, tighten that band in your stomach again. Tears sting the corner of your eyes, blurring your vision. It’s too much. You want it to stop. 

But it feels so fucking good. 

Guts swaps his tongue for his fingers, filling you up once more. Your back arches when he brushes over your g-spot. You mewl and beg him to do it again. 

“One more time. Cum for me one more time,” he orders. And how can you say no when he uses that tone? Guts pays special attention to your previous request, fingers curling with practiced precision. “I want even the gods to hear you scream my name.” 

He doesn’t need to convince you. Liquid heat pools in your stomach, bubbling like a pot about to boil over. His name is the first sound to leave your lips when you come undone. Guts is gentler this time; he draws out your orgasm slowly, careful not to overstimulate you. Your vision burns with tears as your body curls up before sagging bonelessly. 

You heave a sigh and crawl to the side, shuddering when the cold air hits your sensitive skin With a content smile, you stare at Guts in a daze, fuzzy warmth blanketing your mind. 

“Good?” he asks.

“Mhmm.” Your eyes drift to his erection; it twitches under your attention. Suddenly you’re aware of the heady scent of musk in the air. Licking your lips, you look back at Guts. He doesn’t say anything, but his pupils are blown. “Can I?” You inch closer to him, and he nods. You spread the precum leaking from the tip with your thumb. On an impulse, you lick the remainder off your finger, smirking when you hear his sharp intake of breath. 

A bitter saltiness greets your tastebuds, but it’s milder than you anticipated. You well up some saliva in your mouth and use it to lubricate your hand to begin stroking. Slow, firm pumps have him twitching against your palm. 

“Faster, please,” he groans, jerking his hips upwards to match your strokes. 

“Ooh, so you do know how to be polite,” you say as you tighten your grip and increase the pace. Guts’s chest rises and falls faster than before.

His face distorts in a mixture of disbelief and pleasure. “Shut the fuck up,” he grunts, nose scrunching. 

You laugh and rub his thighs soothingly. “Just this once,” and you take as much of his length into your mouth as you can manage. Running your tongue across the underside of his cock, you widen your jaw to avoid scraping him with your teeth. Anything you can’t fit gets stroked by your hands. Glancing up, you notice him watching you with a tenderness that’s been rare as of late. 

He’s been worrying and training almost to the point of obsession. You want to ease that ache in his chest and have him forget momentarily about all you’ve gone through together. Although, judging from how his eyes are starting to glaze over, your objective doesn’t seem that far away. 

It started out small, but now the walls echo with his moans and breathy whines. Each sound is like a lightning bolt between your thighs, burning you with strikes of pleasure. You bring a hand down to play with your clit, hoping to ease the ache. 

His cock pulsates in your mouth. His entire body starts shuddering, and you know he’s close. So you slow to a halt and chortle at his frustration. The look he gives you could wither the low-level spirits that hang around. Taking a breath, you inch slowly down to take more of his cock, chest brimming with pride at how his body immediately tenses. 

“You’re going to kill me here, my love,” he groans, hips stuttering between pulling away and pushing further in. 

You slide your mouth off his cock and lick your lips, massaging his balls with your hand. “I want to milk as much of your cum as I can and drink it all,” you say, rubbing your thumb against the tip. You feel a twitch against your fingers and smirk. “Seems like you’re on board with my plan.”

One of his large, warm hands is placed against your head, stroking your hair. You close your eyes and lean into his touch. “Not the only place I’d like to fill you up,” he says, and you can hear the grin in his tone. 

“Are you sure you can last that long?” you ask, and his fingers cheekily tug on your hair. The gesture draws a chuckle from you. You open your eyes to see him full of amusement. 

“You’re underestimating the stamina of a great swordsman,” he boasts.

You raise a brow. That’s a big claim. “Hm? Then why don’t you show me what your sword can do?” You straddle his hips, your drenched cunt seated against the shaft of his cock. It twitches against you, and you bring a hand down to tease the leaking tip.

“Change of plans?” Guts asks, tone wavering as you slowly pump his cock.

You hum, “I’m feeling a little impatient today.”

“What happened to milking me for all I’m worth?” The cockiness in his tone returns. “Going back now on those big claims?”

You chuckle and flick the head of his cock, watching Guts writhe in response. “You’re trying to rile me up, but it’s not working,” you say.

“Can you blame me? You’re irresistible when you get all fired up,” he says, 

You line up the tip of his cock with your entrance, slowly sinking down until his entire length is inside you. “Sorry to disappoint, but the only one losing their cool today is you.”

You start bouncing your hips, finding a steady rhythm to keep. Angling your body, his cock drags against your walls in all the right places. Guts begins aiming his thrusts when he notices how you cry out each time he hits the mark. 

Guts groans, face screwed tight in concentration. “You’re gonna squeeze me to death,” he moans.

You smirk, running your hands across his chest. “It took you this long to realize my intentions?”

He responds with an airy laugh. “You always were a damn good strategist.”

“And you’re living up to your title, General,” you say, feeling a twitch inside you. “Oh? You like it when I call you that, don’t you?” 

Guts looks at you with a sheepish grin. “If I say I do, will you call me that more often?” he asks. 

You hum, tracing his abs with your fingertips. “I’ll consider it, but it would have to be sparingly. Don’t want to inflate your ego too much,” you tease. A spank smarts your ass. The sting is quickly soothed by a gentle massage. You retaliate with slow, deep thrusts, grinning when Guts curses and loses his ability to form sentences. 

His cock throbs inside you, swelling up in preparation for his release. Guts’s fingers are bruising your hips, and he’s rutting into you. Slamming yourself down, you remain seated.

“Fuck, I was so close,” he groans, cock twitching in your warm cunt. 

“I know. That’s why I stopped,” you say. 

Guts looks at you with betrayal. “You, my dear, are a cruel lover.”

You tsk and clench tightly around him. “I may be a bit mean, but never cruel.”

“If this isn’t cruelty, then wha—“

You cut him off with a roll of your hips, successfully speech-jamming him. “You’ll see,” you say. 

You continue drawing out his release, bringing Guts near the edge only to wrench him away. You’ve lost count—not that you were even counting in the first place—of how many potential orgasms you’ve robbed him of. But from the sour gleam in his eyes, a few too many.

Any of his attempts to take over the pace are thwarted when you turn into an immovable object. The loss of friction is not deemed a worthwhile risk because Guts soon lets you have your way after only a few attempts.  

“Good boy,” you purr, a chuckle tickling the back of your throat. “Look at you, getting turned on when so much as a compliment is awarded.” You drag your fingers down his chest, sloping along the defined ridges of his muscles. “It’s kind of cute,” you admit. 

Guts watches you through hooded lids, mouth parting as incoherent pleas spill between his lips. You tsk and twist your lips into a mock frown. “Oh no. Did I wear you down already?” You cradle his face in your hand, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “I can feel you throbbing inside me. Do you want to cum?” you ask, receiving a shudder in response when you roll your hips. 

“Mhmm,” he grunts, nodding in fervour. Guts runs his hands along your thighs, gently squeezing the soft flesh. “Please,” he adds politely. 

You hum and slow your movements. “Do you deserve to?”

It’s borderline hilarious to watch the gears in his head turn. The vacant look in his eyes shifts as they widen. “I do,” he says, but the slight wobble in his tone is tinged with nerves. 

You can’t stop the grin forming on your face and opt to kiss his damp forehead to hide it. “Relax,” you hush, “I’ll let you cum……

“…eventually.”

Guts groans and slides a hand between your thighs, fingers searching for your clit. You clench tightly around him when he taps it gently with his thumb. “Looks like the blood’s starting to rush back into the right head”—Guts slams his hips upwards, nearly winding you—“Ow, fuck! Ok, ok. No more jokes during sex.” You wince from your sore abdomen. “I’ll cut you a deal,” you pause to gain his attention. “If you make me orgasm within the next ten minutes, I’ll let you cum.”

“You can’t take back your word,” he grunts through gritted teeth. You squeal, arms flailing to wrap around his neck when he flips you onto the ground. There’s a pregnant pause as you stare into each other's eyes. Warm. There’s so much warmth in his gaze for you. “Beautiful,” he says, running his fingers along your face.  

Your chest squeezes tight. You turn your head, feeling the cool stone floor press against your burning cheeks. “9 minutes,” you say. Guts clicks his tongue and lifts one of your legs over his shoulder. He angles his thrusts, ramming into the deepest parts of you. The inferno consuming your body melts your bones to liquid.

“With the sounds you’re making, it won’t be long,” he grunts. You clench tightly around him like a vice. Every well-aimed thrust sends your walls pulsating around his cock. The familiar tightening in your stomach takes hold and threatens to tear you asunder. “Fuck you look so good like this, I don’t think I can hold out much longer.”

You feel calloused fingers brush against your clit, and a bolt of electricity strikes the base of your spine. He chuckles at the way your body curls open like a flower, eager to meet the sun’s rays. When your hips raise to meet him halfway, who is he to deny you of more pleasure?

He brings a finger to his mouth, groaning at your lingering taste on his skin. Before you know it, the building pleasure threatens to burst. He rolls your clit between his fingers, applying constant pressure. Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head. 

How much time was left? Gods, you don’t remember anymore. All you can think about is how you’re a second away from release. 

The intensity drops. Guts’s thrusts remain deep; his cock drags along your walls in a sweet, slow torture. The flames licking your body from the inside are dying, but the embers are stoked just enough to keep the fire going. “You wouldn’t dare,” you seethe between clenched teeth. The muscles in your jaw are almost as tense as the knot in your stomach.

“Who says I wouldn’t?” Guts remarks calmly. A slight chill creeps up your spine, and you begin to sweat for reasons other than physical exertion. 

“But then you don’t get to cum,” you say, trying to build a counterargument to sway him. You were so close;  you needed just a little more to get there. In all honesty, both of you knew that if he really wanted to, Guts could easily ignore the bet. But that would mean destroying the mutual trust you spent years building. And you know both of you would rather die than betray the other.

“You said within the next ten minutes, I still have two left.” He slaps your pubic mound lightly, fingers resting above your swollen clit. “It’s not like you specified a time, only a period. So it doesn’t matter if there’s only a second left as long as you cum before it’s over.” 

You shudder. What have you done?

Guts begins mumbling to himself. Between the grunts and groans, you can just barely make out a decreasing string of numbers. He’s seriously counting down the seconds he has left before the bet is over??

You arch your back, fingers fisting the stone floor with nothing to ground you. “Fuck me,” you sigh, lifting your hips to feel his cock brush against that sensitive spot. 

“Already am,” Guts rasps, wiping the sweat from your brow. “Any other requests?”

“Yeah, fuck me harder.”

He leans down to plant a kiss on your damp forehead. “As you wish.”

And fuck you harder he does. You swear you must be above the clouds with all the stars you see. The slap of flesh echoes in your ears, filled with strained grunts and moans. You like it when Guts is vocal; it makes you feel like you’re doing a good job. One of the quickest ways he can turn you on is by moaning your name, which he’s doing right now. His breathy sighs as your name slips out of his mouth repeatedly like a prayer… it drives you crazy.

There’s only one thought in your mind; it overtakes all the others. You’re on the brink of an orgasm, standing at the edge of a cliff as you wait for the final push. “M’ close,” you say. Your clit throbs, and you feel a tug in your navel as the pressure builds.

“Then let’s bring you closer.” He slowly increases the pace, and your nails claw his back, leaving scratches in their wake. “I want you to look at me when you come undone. Can you do that for me?” You nod, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head when he rubs your clit. “Good.” His fingers maintain pace, and he consistently rams his cock against your g-spot.

Your body thrums with pleasure, ready to come undone at his command. Guts wraps a hand around your throat and squeezes gently. He wasn’t affecting your oxygen supply, but fuck did it do things to you. His thrusts become deeper, pounding into you at a steady rhythm. 

That was all it took to shove you off the edge. Your walls spasm around his cock in a toe-curling orgasm. All you can focus on is the waves of mind-numbing pleasure crashing into you, the force of the undertow sweeping you away. 

Guts continues to thrust, helping you ride out your orgasm. As you come down from your high, dizzy and lightheaded, you feel his cock swell inside you. He pulls out, pumping his cock as his warm seed spills onto your stomach.

You laugh a breathy chuckle, staring at the mess he made. “I think I need another bath,” you say.

Guts kisses the top of your head and says, “Then let’s get cleaned up.” He scoops an arm underneath your knees and wraps the other around your back.

“Guts!”

“Don’t worry. I won’t drop you,” he says, walking towards the pool. Wading in, he brings you to the stream of water. Already, the spray of droplets is freezing against your skin. You shudder and cling closer to Guts and the heat he radiates. “I’ll help you wash up,” and he lowers your legs, a hand still resting on the small of your back. 

“I am capable of washing myself,” you say. Hopefully, the rising sun made the water at least slightly more tolerable. But from how it feels like your feet are encased in ice, you don’t have much hope. 

Guts cups some water in his hands and pours it onto your shoulders. “I know you can, but I want to,” he says, kissing the side of your temple. “So stop being stubborn and let me help you.”

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth. “I don’t kn—“ Guts flicks water at your face with a smirk. You pause, your brain struggling to process what happened. “You!” Your eyes narrow into a glare. 

Guts bolts, his laughter reverberating the cave walls. You run after him, but it’s difficult despite the water reaching only your calves. Guts is somehow brute forcing his way, but you adapt a weird mixture of hopping and running to catch up. 

Once you’re within arm's length of Guts, you kick up the water, successfully splashing him. The smug grin on your face falters when he turns around with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He moves only a single step before your flight instincts take over. 

Your heart is thumping against your chest, thundering in your ears. His fingertips brush against your spine, and you squeal, dodging to the side. Large splashes grow closer and closer. But they suddenly stop. And amid your confusion, you stop running.

Looking over your shoulder, you see no sign of Guts except a few ripples in the water where you expected him to be.

“Got ya!” Big, strong hands wrap around your waist, and the ground disappears beneath your feet. The world spins in a whirlwind of lights and cool shades of blue and purple. As your surroundings grind to a halt, warm arms pull you into an embrace. Your laughter is dampened by his hug, and you blink to quell the dizziness. 

You stare into his eyes, watching black swallow brown. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek. “Shower?” you whisper, unwilling to break the stillness. If the universe would let you, you would spend every day like this with him. To wake and sleep together, sharing the mundane moments of life and experiencing the little pockets of joy as they occur. But that’s not the kind of world you live in— not if Griffith has anything to say about it.

Guts leans forward to plant a kiss on your forehead. “Yeah, let’s get cleaned up.” He guides you back to the waterfall, fingers intertwined. You follow him without resistance. All the running around has warmed you up, but that only makes the water feel colder. Guts is careful as he washes you. “I know it’s cold, but you’re being so good for me,” he coos. His hands firmly glide across your skin. You feel him pause to trace the scars on your body, gently tracing the thin lines on your lower abdomen. His touch dips down between your thighs, and you part them. 

He does nothing more than clean up the mess he made, but you’re still sensitive. Little tremors run through your body, the aftershocks of your ground-shaking orgasm. Guts surprises you with a kiss on your neck. You swear this man is trying to kill you with his affection. With the uncomfortable slickness gone, you lean against Guts and relish in him pampering you. If only you had brought more soap. You could have asked him to wash your hair.

“Done?” he asks, to which you nod. Guts picks you up again and carries you to dry land, where he dries you off with the towel again. “Arms up,” he commands. And before you know it, a shirt is pulled over your head. The fabric still smells like him. Smoke from a fire pit and the medicinal scent of herbs from his ointment. You glance over and watch him put on his pants. Your eyes trail along the scars on his body. Most of them have healed nicely, but they’ll always remain to remind you how close to death you were that night.

Your fingers absentmindedly rest against the area of your brand. Before you can slip into a spiral, Guts calls out your name. His brows are furrowed, and his eyes are focused on where your hand is. “I’ll be fine,” you insist. You’re unsure if he believes you, but he nods and doesn’t pry further.

Your eyes begin to droop, and a big yawn escapes your mouth. “I think it’s time to rest,” Guts says. Luckily, your sleeping arrangements aren’t too far. With Rickert’s help, Erica was able to find a larger bedroll for you and Guts to share. You never voiced the thought out loud, but you liked the closeness it forced. Something about sleeping in his arms brought you a sense of peace and security.

When he holds you at night, the nightmares leave you in peace. The screams quiet, and the stench of iron is replaced with cedar and smoke. The arms around your waist are tender. Guts is like a kiln; you’re dry clay—fragile at first but robust after exposure to his warmth. 

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” Guts asks, petting your hair. You’re lying in bed, limbs tangled like vines wrapped around a tree. 

The corners of your lips curl up. “Like what?” 

Guts leans his forehead against yours. “Like I’m everything to you. That’s my job,” he says. 

You’re smiling so much your cheeks ache. “I love you.”

Guts mirrors your smile. His hand slides down to cup your face. You can feel his breath tickle your skin. His eyes dart to your parted lips before closing the gap. 

The kiss is slow and tender. Soft, pliable lips that leave you panting for air. Guts trails his mouth along your jawline, leaving a path of fire as he moves to the hollow of your throat. 

You can’t help but let out a content sigh when he pays attention to the sensitive area. Your cheeks tingle at the thought of waking up and being greeted with a new mark. Guts plants one last kiss on your collarbone before drawing you closer to him. 

“I love you so much,” he mumbles into your skin. You snuggle into him, wanting his scent to envelop you. His next words are so quiet you almost miss them. “Promise me you won’t leave, too.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. You look into his eyes and see a reflection of what you’ve become. His dark circles fare no better than yours, and that vengeful spark has dulled, having been weathered over time by grief. 

You lost your friends and family, but so did he.

With the brand carved into your skin and the spirits waiting around every corner to devour you…. “You know I can’t promise you that,” you say, and you hate how your words feel like a punch to your own gut.

“Then lie to me and promise anyway,” he whispers, staring at you through glossy eyes.

You bite your lip but refuse to look away. Raising a hand to wipe his tears, you say, “I promise to stay for as long as I’m able.”

Guts nods, soothed by your response. “Rest. I’ll keep us safe.”

Us. The word sends your heart a flutter. You shift into a comfortable position and drift into darkness, dreaming of campfires and starry skies for once. 

End Note:

It's like I can't decide whether I want the fic to be sad, happy, or horny. So why not all three?

I also decided to bite the bullet and get image dividers, because trying to get center formatting and having it stay consistent across platforms is tiring. Do they look ok? I got them from a Tumblr post by @/saradika if anyone wanted to know.

I have no idea when my next work will come out. I already have some fics queued up and knowing myself, I'll either speed right through them, or drag them out too long and lose interest lol

I'll see you guys at my next hyperfixation! (。・∀・)ノ

Reblogs are appreciated!

[janamensch]

Ilmera knight OC!!! This is Ser Valerie, she’s a knight errant from the Suncrest Isles!

[byanyan]

SPEECH PATTERNS

complexity of vocabulary : ◼◼◻◻◻ emotion : ◼◼◼◼◼ sentence structure : ◼◼◻◻◻ profanity frequency : ◼◼◼◼◼ creativity : ◼◼◼◼◻ watchfulness : ◼◼◻◻◻

( bold all that apply ) ass. asshole. bastard. bitch. bloody. bugger. bollocks. crap. cunt. dick. frick. fuck. fuckshit. horseshit. motherfucker. piss. prick. screw. shit. shitass. chicken shit. son of a bitch. son of a whore. twat. wanker. ( given proper religious context ) christ on a bike. christ on a cracker. damn. goddamn. godsdamn. hell. holy shit. jesus. jesus christ. jesus, mary and joseph. sweet jesus.

( this or that )

contractions or enunciation? straightforward or cryptic? jargon or toned? complexity or simplicity? finding the right word or using the first word that comes to mind? masculinity, neutrality, or femininity? formalities or abrasiveness? insult or injury? praise or equivocation? frankness or lies? excessive or minimal hand gestures? name-calling or magnanimity? friendly or blunt nicknames?

( important questions )

do people have a hard time understanding or hearing your character ? almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never does your character’s point come across easily when they speak ? almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never would your character initiate conversations ? almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never would your character be the one to end conversations ? almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never would your character use ‘whom’ in a sentence ? yes / no / only ironically your character wants to make a counterpoint. what word do they use ? but / though / although / however / perhaps / mayhaps how would your character pick up the phone ? hello / hey / hi / yellow / yo / yeah / [name]. / what’s up / who is this / what do you want / can i help you? how does your character end conversations ? walk away / ask if that’s everything / say that that’s everything / give a proper goodbye / tell their company they’re done here / remain quiet / they don’t how does your character address others ? titles / first names / surnames / full names / nicknames what social class would others assume your character belongs to, hearing them speak ? upper / middle / lower in what ways does the way your character speak stand out to others ? accent / vocabulary / tone / level / politeness / brusqueness / it doesn’t

[ozzgin]

Just read your arranged marriage kidnapped by a most post and the humor in the servants always thinking reader is in peril. The same going for monster hubby (He just thinks they're submissive and breedable)

Like none of them realize they are a moster fucker cause they hide it so well. Like just imagining reader be like "oh be gentle with me I'm a dainty maiden" and then giving him the night of his life is hilarious. Or them having dinner and the servants feel bad for them cause monster hubby is eating human meat but their just thinking about other things he can use his tongue on.

Or maybe someone comes to rescue them from the terrible monster finally. But they don't wanna leave and instead fight the knight off. The knight thinks they've been brainwashed or something. Meanwhile the servants think the knight just wasn't good enough to rescue them.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, NSFW! [Part 1] | [More Monsters]

The servants are not blind by any means: they can tell, quite plainly, that their monstrous Lord has a soft spot for you. Not only that, but the beast nearly worships you! They've come up with many theories, the latest one involving witchcraft. Surely you must have some sort of magical trickery under your sleeve in order to subdue their Master. There's no other way around it. All previous humans have been devoured, or have died in a pitiful attempt to escape, terrified to the bone upon gazing at his blasphemous Majesty.

You can't blame them. It's probably better for everyone involved if you omit the fact that your source of witchcraft lies in your...genitals. Well, not just that, of course. Your husband had started to lose hope. His appreciation of humans never came to fruition before your arrival. He was expecting you to cower in fear, not throw yourself at him.

He wondered if you wanted something from him in return, but no one could possibly pretend so flawlessly: the way you clung to him unprompted. The way you hungrily took him in, tears welling in your eyes, refusing to let go until you could feel his load avalanching down your throat. The way you'd trap his hips with your legs, despite being weak and feverish, asking that he doesn't stop yet. If that wasn't proof enough, your whines and moans were loud and clear. To think he could have his own little human, one who isn't repulsed by his monstrous form. He would've been content with mere tolerance, yet someone who begged to be fucked by him? He's been delirious ever since.

He loves everything about you, naturally, but he can't deny the shameless addiction he's now developed towards your body. He'd pound you anywhere and anytime if he could. If he needs to leave for official matters, know that the return will burn in the back of his mind.

"An important date, Sir?" one traveling servant will ask, glancing at all the scribbles in the calendar.

"Indeed", he answers solemnly. It's the times when he can finally fuck you dumb.

While the servants worry about their devilish Master being put under leash, for the other fellow humans the opposite seems to be true. You recall your last "rescuing" attempt distinctly. During one of your evening walks, burly, foreign arms swept you off in an instant. Before you knew it, you were holding onto the armored shoulders of an unknown man, as he made his way out of the traditional garden.

"I'll get you out of here", he promised between heaving breaths.

You stared in confusion. What was he saving you from? A good dicking? No matter how much you explained that you do actually like your newly appointed husband, the hero wouldn't budge.

You ended up just walking back home when the man fell asleep.

"That was quite the long walk", your monster partner remarked, polishing his weapons.

"Oh no, I was kidnapped", you state casually. "Got us some fruits on the way back."

Would it have been better to lie about it? On one hand, you do feel terrible for whoever attempted to retrieve you from the claws of the tyrant. Your husband is very possessive, and you know he'll scorch the Earth until that treacherous pest is gutted and fed to the pigs.

On the other hand...he becomes particularly savage after such incidents. You won't be able to sit properly for the next few weeks, but it's worth it.

Tough luck, you tell yourself, lounging in bed with a satisfied smirk and torn apart hole.

[gaypirate420]

Kaleidoscope // Viktor

S2!Viktor x gender neutral!reader.

Summary: You're staring at his eyes.

Fluff. Spoilers!!!!

Viktor stares at his hand, that purple flowing and metallic skin. He just healed? Cured? an addict from the undercity, his mismatched pupils look up.

At you.

You followed behind when he left Jayce's lab, you were too determined and he didn't fight as hard as he wanted, in other times he would tell you to stay with Jayce, stay safe. He didn't keep you away from the Hexcore without reason, but he couldn't fight, as much as his mind was screaming at him, he just nodded monotonously after a couple of pleas.

Your eyes meet his, you sit down in front of him, whimpering slightly, after the explosion of the Council left you with an injured leg.

His eyes dart back down, he could just reach out and you wouldn't be in pain anymore but he closes his fingers and lowers his hand to his lap. He needs to understand a little more about this new... identity of his before he even attempts to touch you in any sort of way, he doesn't want to risk it. Sky disappeared in front of him like dust in the wind, he can't do that to you.

You smiled softly. His furrowed eyebrows soften.

"How are you feeling?" You asked with a soft whisper. He sighs, his eyes don't leave yours, in one hand he isn't feeling pain, that ache, that little needle-like sensation that infested his leg and back since he had memory. But on the other hand, he doesn't feel much, he isn't scared but also not happy, he isn't completely aware of what is happening but he is not mindless.

You keep looking at him, that smile doesn't falter and that is comforting. You're not scared of him not even after what you just saw.

"I don't know." He answers, there's a small shiver down your back, his speech pattern has changed, it's slow and monotone but there's some sparkles of emotions in it, it's not like he has talked much for you to completely understand yet.

You nod at his words, God you were so patient with him, always have been.

Your eyes don't leave his, the amber eyes he held are nowhere to be found, now a duller color replaces them but there's this drop of cyan, maybe crimson at times that moves around the two irises.

"Is there something wrong?" He asks, you shake your head.

"Nothing wrong, Vitya. I'm just looking at your eyes." You speak softly, scooting a little closer towards him.

Vitya.

His lips twitch ever so slightly, yes he is your Vitya, at least he thinks he is and you don't seem to look at him any differently, there's still that deep affection in your eyes, of course there is worry in your gaze, but the devoted love remains.

"What's with them?" He speaks again.

"They're different..." You whispered as you leaned your face closer. He doesn't move, he remembers the feeling, after years of being with you his heart still went wild when you approached, but now it's dull, but it's there. He knows it is, it's just a little distant, just in the tip of his fingers.

"Like- copper...but...there's this- bleeding of color.." You whispered as your eyes fixated on his, you were so close. Your breath against his face, lips near that beauty mark you loved to kiss.

"Like a kaleidoscope." You whispered, you didn't pull away, you missed having him so close. Viktor nods at your words, he hasn't seen himself fully yet.

You two stare at each other for a couple of seconds. Your hand hesitantly reaches up and cups his face, muscle memory is a hell of a thing, he immediately nuzzles his face against your hand. It's familiar yet he feels like this is the first time touching you.

He feels you. Not just your gentle hand or soft skin, you. It's a different kind of touch, like he's touching your soul, your very being.

You contain your excitement. He is still there. You smiled softly. His eyes flutter as he feels a faint sensation of your lips against his beauty mark.

He stays silent. It was dull, like a ghost touched him yet like every star in the sky placed a kiss upon his face.

"Will you do that again, please?" He whispers, meeting your eyes once more.

A/N: (Divider) Hiiii, hope you like this, I wasn't sure about writing something so fast, but I needed to get rid of the feeling. I loved Act 1, it was worth staying up til 5 am, Viktor has bewitched my soul completely, I don't have a lot of opinions, just questions, I'm going to wait until the whole season is over to talk about it and the characters. Enjoy the fic! Send requests please.

[born2beadorable]

Something that is so appealing to me about giuk is that he’s cute and he owns this like he leans SO FAR into it and doesn’t claim to be sexy in spite of it lmao. He also (as far as I’ve found) doesn’t write suggestive lyrics, I’ve just seen they’ve covered my first kiss a lot and that’s 👀 but he didn’t write it lmao. He did write a rap verse for it but I cannot find a translation so idk about it but I’m really curious to see the tl!!! Anyway, even when he’s not being overtly adorable he’s just cool like I appreciate this so much!!!! Love that for him!!!!!

[pomefioredove]

can I request house wardens + leech twins with a reader who doesn't eat enough bc Crowley doesn't give them enough for food, and they end up really ill and collapsing or something. I'm cravin some fluffy comfort rn, pls and thank you 🙏

I got you🫡🫡 as someone who's been through an eerily similar situation, I really liked this request

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ another crowley moment™️

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, floyd, jade, kalim, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, mentions of food and not eating

Riddle wouldn't even have to like you to rush to your side. but he does like you, which makes it all the worse

after checking your vitals, you're in the infirmary. he's got doctors for parents, after all, and he knows that malnutrition is bad

he should have seen the signs...

with exams coming, he's been so busy, and he assumed that you were just tired from studying

but he can feel guilty later. right now, he needs to focus on you getting well again, and not killing Crowley

(then, of course, he'll look for some legal statute or clause that he can threaten Crowley with so you're fed properly)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona noticed you'd been acting a little weird lately, but watching you collapse still puts him in shock

luckily, Ruggie and Jack are nearby to help you to the infirmary, so Leona can focus on hunting Crowley down like an animal

there are very few times where Leona is particularly grateful for his status, but this is one of them. just one word on how his family will be hearing about Crowley's neglect, and the old bastard is begging him for forgiveness

even after that, Leona still sends Ruggie with snacks and drinks to Ramshackle

and if you ever scare him like that again, you'll regret it (lovingly)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the news of you collapsing during flight lessons reaches Octavinelle rather fast. no one is particularly surprised, since Floyd had mentioned how easily you'd been bruising lately just the night before, but everyone is certainly worried

Azul is the first at your side, asking you all sorts of questions, worried sick. Jade has to remind him to give you space to rest, since you look exhausted (had you always had those dark circles? how could Azul have not noticed?)

now, Azul and the tweels could easily find a way to pressure Crowley, but they know better than to trust him

from now on, you'll be eating in the Mostro Lounge, free of charge

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

perhaps Kalim was just oblivious, because he really didn't think anything was wrong until you were suddenly on the floor in front of him

sure, you'd been a little moody lately, but he figured it was just a thing you were going through. and besides, you know that you can talk to him about anything... right?

Jamil hurries to check your pulse, and shouts for him to get the school nurse- which is jarring, because Jamil never shouts

when you explain everything to Kalim later, he feels... terrible. he should've known- no, he should've asked

Kalim insists you stay at Scarabia while you're recovering, and makes sure you have the most enriching, delicious meals money can buy

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil knew it was bad, but not this bad. if he had known you were on the verge of collapsing, he would've taken a firmer approach to getting you to eat

you're going to worry him to death someday, you know that?

after he's done verbally eviscerating Crowley, he'll insist on joining you at every meal. he'll eat at Ramshackle, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, if that's what it takes

he's subtle about it, at least

if he notices that your plate feels empty, he'll just take some food from his and put it on yours. gracefully, elegantly, without a word

you'll come home one day to see your kitchen stocked with vitamins, supplements, and apples (courtesy of Epel)

<3 and a note that says he'll treat you to dinner whenever you want

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

never scare Idia like that ever again. he wasn't even with you when you collapsed, and he STILL nearly had a heart attack

listen, he knows he's not a great role model when it comes to nutritional eating, but you have got to tell him these things. he would've had Ortho go get takeout! or something!

typical Crowley behavior, SMH. what does he think you are? a rabbit? even the school horses get treated better...

no way that Idia is going to even bother with that old fart, anyway. you want something? he'll get it for you. you don't even have to ask, he'll just send food to your place (and have Ortho check your vitals more often but shhh)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

I would not want to be in the room when Malleus finds out about this

not even the building. you know what? I'd steer clear of the whole island, because it will not be pretty

when you collapse in front of him, it feels like he's dying, too. the panic sets in, and he sends Lilia to look after you, and Silver and Sebek to escort you to the infirmary, and then he casually threatens to smite Crowley. obviously

if the students and staff of NRC thought Malleus was scary just being Malleus, he's terrifying when he's mad

(rest assured that you will be getting ten times the amount of food from now on)

it's thunderstorms for days after, but he never leaves your side