#the pause she makes after saying it and the pause she makes /before/ speaking up
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DCxDP fanfic idea: Danny's Did you know?
Danny is a contact creator.
He started off as a kid who wanted to dump info about space or other interests, making it more "Did you Know" as his theme, but his channel really took off the first time he invited a ghost to speak about the era that came before.
No one knows Sidney Poindexter is a ghost. Ghosts usually do not appear on camera; if they do, they are always a blur or barely visible outline. That doesn't come into play when the camera happens to belong to the Ghost King, who is unaware of the title.
Due to this, the ghosts, as his guest stars, turn out to look like normal human beings. There is no glow, no see-through effect, and the only odd thing about them is how they dress.
Even Poindexter's coloring could be explained with some well-done make-up.
They think he's just someone wearing a costume and pretending to be from the 1950s, using information Danny had researched. Danny's interview with Poindexter became an instant hit among those who applauded the genuine authenticity of what the 1950s actually were like.
Not only that, but Poindexter's reactions to modern terms and objects that Danny presents are hilarious to the viewers, as he never once broke character. There is even an entire section where both grumble about the bullying issue in their shared high school.
A particular scene becomes a trending meme.
"Did you know Dr. Seuss coined the word "Nerd" in 1950? He used it in the book If I Ran the Zoo," Danny tells Poindexter.
The other teenager rolls his eyes. "Of course, I knew. It was published in my first year of High school. I was one of the first to be called nerd, you know? It would have been more impressive if it didn't take the entire football team four days to read."
"Four days!?"
"Dr. Seuss's writing style saved the American reading levels back in my day."
"So we have always been stupid, huh?"
Danny's next guest is Johnny 13, a biker from the early 1980s who spends most of his time flirting with Danny—who doesn't acknowledge the attempts—and proudly tells the viewers he may have been there, but he was too poor to know much about the 1980s.
"What were the trends in that era?" Danny asks Johnny after considering his notes.
The biker shrugs. "I think cellphones? They were too expensive for me or my block. Never saw one in real life before I died."
"Well, one trend was waterbeds. Did you know that waterbeds were invented in the 60s? They were made by a design student but weren't popular until the 80s, making them popular for the sudden rise of sex appeal." Danny says with a cheerful grin.
Johnny 13 tilts his head, considering his words. "Radical. I couldn't afford a mattress, much less a waterbed, but I bet they were fun. If you can get your hands on one, I would happily show you how fun they can be."
Danny rolls his eyes and then considers something. "If you couldn't afford a mattress, how did you get your bike then?"
"I stole it. Car theft was effortless back then after hotwiring took off." Johnny's smirk turns dark. "I stole to keep myself fed. Bad luck followed you everywhere when you started at America's rock bottom. Only crime could get you out, and even then, life was shit."
Danny reaches out and pats his shoulder. "At least you got to live through one of the best eras in our history."
"Nah, I died in 1983. I missed it, but do you know who actually got to live it? Ember. She died in 1990."
Next week, Ember strikes an alarming resemblance to the one-hit-wonder singer Ember McLain, who had nearly made it big a few years ago.
"What were the 80s like?"
"Terrible, everyone hated me in school, and AIDS was killing all my friends."
Danny pauses for a long moment, looking horror-struck, until Ember shrugs, "But Glam rock was made popular, which was kind of cool."
"Glam?"
Ember smirked at the host, holding her guitar. "Want to hear some?"
By the end of her performance, everyone was losing their mind that Danny Fenton somehow knew a big name like Ember Mclain, and her music once again started to trend. So much so she released another song called "Lost," dedicated to all her fallen friends who died in the AIDS epidemic.
It goes on and on, with each new video showcasing different times and people from those backgrounds. Tim Drake never misses an episode as a dedicated follower of Danny's Did You Know?
He also thought it was a gimmick to make the show entertaining and thought nothing of the hilarious conversations—not when the host was such adorable eye candy.
Things are normal until Tim watches Danny interview Greta Hayes, who died in the late 90s. His very dead, very much a ghost teammate who happily tells the story of her life while looking like an ordinary girl for the first time.
It's not even someone dressed up as her. She makes an apparent reference to some slang Bart uses, and a few of the team's inside jokes are sprinkled into the conversation.
Tim feels a headache coming on. After watching the episode, he grinned darkly as he picked up his phone and called Bruce.
"So we may have a problem. Either a necromancer with an insane amount of skill or something similar. We need to go to Amity Park to investigate Danny Fenton."
Bruce sighs. "Tim, I am not helping you stalk your internet crush-"
"It's not stalking. It's detective work!"
#dcxdpdabbles#Danny's Did you know?#Part 1#Dead tired#Danny runs a online talkhost/ info dump#Tim is his fan#The ghosts are his guests#Bruce has been on the receiving end of many “Isn't Danny Fenton so hot!?” rambles from Tim
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The Blue Glow
→ premise: What starts as late nights spent helping Paige through heartbreak slowly shifts - until you’re left wondering if friendship was ever the right word. (RoommateAU)
→ word count: 4k
It’s just past two when you hear the key rattle in the front door, followed by the soft creak as it swings open. Paige, your roommate, usually comes home late on Fridays, a little buzzed or maybe high after a night with her teammates or her girlfriend. You’re used to hearing her stumble in, her laughter still lingering from whatever fun she’d been having, always fading into the quiet of the apartment.
You call her name, waiting for her confirmation. She’s the only one with a key, but saying her name and hearing her respond feels safe, like a habit you’ve formed without thinking. Silence. You lean back in your chair, letting your game screen idle as you peer through the small crack in your door.
You wait a moment, letting the silence of the apartment settle around you before it's broken by the unmistakable shuffle of her kicking off her shoes, the soft thud of her door and then steady beat of music seeping from her room.
You turning back to your desktop and unpausing your game. Your fingers move across the key‐ board, killing pixelated monsters and yet still, your mind crawls back to 20 minutes ago, when Paige walked in.
Were you supposed to knock on her door and ask if she was okay? Basic roommate etiquette would assume so, but it's not as though you and Paige were buddy-buddy. Sure, you'd chilled together a few times to catch up on Netflix's latest murder doc and yeah, she'd invited you to one or two of her teammate's afterparties (none of which you'd gone to, instead you offered polite decline that assured she really didn't need to ask you again).
At most, you and Paige were just in each other's orbit. Nothing more than two girls attending the same university who got placed together in an apartment just off-campus.
The clock ticks to 3:15, and finally, the music fades into silence. She’s probably asleep now. You tell yourself to focus on your game, but your gaze drifts to the wall, your thoughts lingering on her room just a few feet away. Honestly, you’re not sure why you’re still awake.
***
You’re unpacking your groceries when you notice her—Paige, sprawled out across the couch like she’s trying to disappear into it. Her hoodie is pulled low over her face, but you can still make out the outline of her eyes, locked on you the moment you glance in her direction.
"You good?" You ask, feeling the need to soften your voice - something in your body tells you to tread carefully.
She yawns, stretches, and when she speaks, her voice is thick with sleep—rougher than usual, like she hasn’t quite woken up. “Yeah, just a bit fucked up.”
There's something in her tone that gives you pause like she's daring you to dig deeper. You hesitate. It sounds bad to say, but you've always liked the unspoken agreement between you two - the comfortable distance, once again, like planets moving in the same orbit but never touching.
You take the bait. "What's up?"
She pushes herself up, so she's now resting on her elbows, “Ari fucking broke up with me."
The two had seemed to be one of the few couples who could go the distance. In the few games you attended, you'd seen her girlfriend always present, aptly draped in a number 5 jersey titled 'Bueckers'. As far as college relationships went, it seemed like love.
"Oh." It's all you manage to say at first, unsure of how to respond. Were you supposed to hug her?
Paige drops back onto the couch, covering her face with her hands. "Yeah, oh."
"And it's final?" You ask, "Cause, it's never really over, over. It's probably -"
"She blocked me," she cuts in, still deep within the recesses of her hoodie. "She probably blocked me the moment I left her place ... I've messaged her and called her but it goes straight to green or voice mail."
You nod, once again unsure of what to say next. You'd don't have to think because Paige drops in again. She had a one-of-a-kind skill of unknowingly being able to fill in silences.
"It's not like I cheated or she cheated," you hear the emotions flooding back into her voice - it's not sadness, well it probably is but it's wrapped up in anger and disbelief. "Which spins me because it's not like we were in a bad spot - okay yeah, I wouldn't respond sometimes, but that's normal, sometimes I'm genuinely tired from training!"
"Maybe she's stressed too and it's all a bit too much to deal with," You say.
She throws you a quick look, something between betrayal and you're not helping. It's fast, and she cools her features back to normal.
"- Not that I'm saying it's a good excuse," you counter, "But, it's something to consider. Did she actually say why?"
"Something about I'm not present. It's bullshit," she sighs.
You want to say something comforting, anything, but everything that comes to mind feels hollow. Besides, it's not like whatever you could say could put a bandage over a 2 year relationship ending.
She sits up again, her hoodie falling back to it's rightful face. She looks around the room, her eyes itching for something to distract her from whatever uncomfortable feelings she can feel rising. Her eyes fall on her set of keys, the original red fob you'd both received on move-in day had long been overtaken by numerous keychains and fabric bracelets - even a heart picture frame.
"Hey, do you want to do something?" She asks, "Get out of here for a bit?"
At the tip of your tongue is some vague excuse about how you really need to cook right now, but before it can come out, she speaks again.
"Please - I really need to step out for a bit." Her voice is soft, just about holding back a crack.
You're not a monster so of course, you nod and say sure. You don't ask where to until you're following her long strides down the hall and into the low-lit car park. The night feels colder than usual and your bare feet in slides feel anything but appropriate for the weather.
An orange glow from a stray streetlight casts a small tinge of light on her face as she unlocks the door to her car. "I was thinking of going to the outdoor court. You know, the one near the park? It's just a short drive. I could really use a change of scenery, and maybe shooting around would help clear my head .... that cool?"
"Yeah," you say, because what else could you say? "That’s cool."
How cliche you think - a basketball player needing to shoot hops to clear their head.
The drive is quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space between you. Paige keeps her eyes on the road, and the tension in her shoulders is palpable. You can't help but think this is how she looks when she's on the bench, (playing the game in her mind, sizing up the opposition and just yearning to get back in).
Connecticut's lights blur past as you make your way out of the downtown area, the campus fading away as she turns into a quieter, more residential neighbourhood. The basketball court comes into view, illuminated by a few scattered streetlights and a single overhead light, casting a gentle glow over the cracked asphalt and faded court markings.
She pulls into the nearest parking bay, reversing in with ease, her arm draping over your headrest as she checks the mirror. It's then that you wonder how many times she's done this exact move with her ex. You imagine her ex sitting where you are now, lips fresh with a kiss and the seat shaped by her form.
A whole two years, you think. No wonder she was going stair-crazy.
You're now out of the car, rocking on the back of your feet as Paige gets her duffle bag out of the car. It's at that point when she finally asks you about your day.
You shrug, "It's been ight, nothing much to be fair. Just trying to get my head around ... we've got a new TA and the bitch marks hard as hell."
She chuckles in response, "Damn, tough one. You do something with economics, right?"
"Yeah, something about economics. Not my first choice but it's gonna do the job," you reply trailing behind her longer strides as she leads you both into the empty court.
"Economics. Get the job done?" she repeats with a playful scoff, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Can't tell if you're being humble or—"
"Not humble," you interject, "It's an ends to means."
She unzips her duffle bag and brings out her ball and bounces it a few times, the rhythmic thud echoing softly in the quiet night. "What's the end goal then?"
You're shrugging as you go to take your place on the edge of the court, watching as Paige moves around and seemingly becomes one with the court. (something about seeing her in her natural ele‐ ment) "Probably some cushy consulting job. I'm not gonna lie, I've got no idea but I've lowkey liked the subject all through school, it's just made sense to do it."
Paige dribbles the ball a few times, then takes a shot. The ball cuts through the air and swishes through the hoop. light work.
"I'm guessing you've always known what you wanted to do," you continue.
She nods, bounces the ball again, but this her feet and body moving across the court as though she's playing the last two minutes of a game. "Yup! It's always been basketball. From elementary, middle school and high school. Nothing but ball." she punctuates her last line with a throw.
"Wish that were me!" you say.
She looks over at you, the ball now finding itself passing from hand to hand. "You wanted to play ball?"
It's your turn to scoff, "No, I'm talking about the whole knowing what you wanted to do from the get go."
Paige pauses mid-dribble, her eyes narrowing playfully as she studies you. "Yeah, I get that. Not everyone figures it out early. But, you know, it's not like it's been easy. Just because I knew doesn't mean it wasn't a grind."
She takes another shot, and the ball glides through the net with a satisfying swish. As she retrieves it, she adds, "There's a lot of pressure, too. Once you say 'this is it,' everyone expects you to stick with it, no matter what."
You watch as she moves across the court, her pace slower now, more thoughtful. "I guess I just got lucky," she continues. "Or maybe I was stubborn. It's hard to tell sometimes."
"I guess that makes you one of the few," you say, leaning back against the fence, watching her with a mix of admiration and something else - something you can't quite put your finger on. Is this what her fans felt? It always spun you that she had fans. Fans. Would they be jealous right now? "Most people I know are still figuring it out, including me."
Paige stops dribbling and looks at you, her expression softening. "You've got time," she says, her voice losing some of its earlier intensity. "There's no rush to have it all figured out. Sometimes, the best things come when you least expect them."
She tosses the ball to you, and it lands in your hands with a gentle thud. You can feel the worn leather under your fingers, still warm from her grip. For a moment, you're both silent, the weight of her words hanging in the cool night air.
"Maybe," you say quietly, the ball feeling heavier and heavier in your hands. "But sometimes it feels like everyone else is racing ahead while I'm stuck at the start line."
"Play with me," she says, gesturing you over.
You look down at the ball and then back to her, "You're a D1 athlete. You're just gonna show me up plus I don't even know how to shoot."
"Come on, I'll teach you," There's a playful glint in her eyes. "It'll make me like five percent less sad."
You hesitate, but her enthusiasm is contagious. She hands the ball back to you and steps behind, lightly adjusting your stance. "Feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent," she instructs, her hands guiding yours on the ball. "Use your legs for power, wrist for control."
You try to follow her lead, feeling her breath close as she directs your movements. "And when you shoot, remember, follow through, like you're reaching into a cookie jar."
You chuckle at the analogy and take a shot. The ball bounces off the rim, and Paige claps. "Not bad. Let's go again."
Paige steps in front of you, her tone shifting slightly as she moves into coach mode. You can tell she's probably coached some little league somewhere here in Connecticut or wherever her home state was - she’d mentioned it numerous times but you’d forgotten. "Alright, keep your elbow in and focus on the backboard," she says, her hands demonstrating the movement. "And don't forget, it's all about the follow through."
You roll your eyes playfully. "Alright, coach. I got it."
"It's Coach P," She smirks, her eyes twinkling. "Just trying to make you a baller." You take another shot, and this time, the ball swishes through the net. Paige cheers, giving you a high five. "There it is! You're a natural."
"Light work" you say with a grin. It's anything but.
Paige bumps you lightly with her shoulder. "Not bad at all. But next time, we're working on your dribbling cause that shit was shocking."
***
Nights at the court, which you’d now come to know was actually called St Bernard’s Court, became routine much like when you’d call her name when she’d come back to the apartment.
You’d gotten used to settling into the passenger seat of her car, the familiar hum of the engine surrounding you as she drove, her hands gripping the wheel with that same steady determination. Conversations, once filled with awkward pauses and small talk, now flowed effortlessly. They were the kind of talks that never seemed to end - about everything and nothing, the mundane details of life at uni, complaints about bad food at the cafeteria, or her latest training session. It was simple.
Sometimes, she’d give up her dictator-like hold over the music and let your playlists take over, though more often than not, you let hers play on. You never minded; there was something comforting about the predictable beats of her curated selections. Her taste was always a little sharper, more nuanced than yours, and you found yourself adding some of songs to your liked list when you’d gotten back to the safety of your own room.
Sometimes, after an hour of shooting around, you’d both end up on the concrete, sitting against the low bleachers, legs stretched out before you, talking about whatever came to mind and letting the cold settle deep into your skin. But more often than not, the conversation would shift to her ex. It had become a quiet pattern: Paige would talk about her like it was a distant, painful memory she was still learning how to deal with.
She’d mention her in passing, her tone casual at first, as though it didn’t sting anymore.
It reminded you like she was just like any other girl despite the fame. Unable to resist feigning indifference to hurt - so you didn’t judge because you’d done it over and over.
“I don’t even know why she said that,” Paige would say, tossing the ball back into her hands, eyes focused on something far off. “I never meant to be distant. You know how it is; practice, school, games... life’s a lot.” She’d sigh, running a hand through her hair, shaking her head.
And then, almost like she couldn’t help herself, the bitterness would slip in. “She made it sound like I didn’t care at all,” Paige muttered, kicking the ball across the court. “Like it was all about me, me, me.” Her voice softened, the edges raw, the anger melting into something unspoken and lingering. “She didn’t even give me a chance to explain, to fix things. Not that it matters now.”
You listened. Not to solve anything, not to offer some platitude about how she’d be better off. You listened because, in those quiet moments, it felt like her words were a way of processing, a way to let the weight of everything settle into something less heavy.
Her ex wasn’t just a past relationship, not just a name you’d heard murmured in the back of conversations. She was a part of Paige’s present, even if it was an unwelcome one, lingering in the way Paige looked at the court sometimes, or the way she pulled away when you tried to get too close. Her ex was a shadow that loomed over your conversations, her absence filling the spaces that Paige didn’t want to admit she missed.
“You know, I thought she was the one,” Paige would often say with a dry laugh, picking at the fabric of her hoodie. “Stupid, huh?” She’d shake her head like it was all so ridiculous now. But the way she’d say it, softly, almost tenderly, like she was still trying to convince herself.
And then, just as quickly, she’d pull herself out of it, focusing on something else. “Anyway, I’m not thinking about her tonight,” she’d say, standing up and grabbing the ball.
At some point she’d move on. Stop needing the nights at the court and you’d be proud because your friend (it felt weird to call her a friend thinking about the times you’d dodged her invitations for connection, but things were different now) had moved on.
***
The nights eventually come to an end.
They’re stopped when you’re sitting in yours and Paige’s shared living room, letting the tv play in the background as you listlessly scroll on your phone.
The door to her room is closed but you can hear the familiar music playing through it. She emerges, her face flushed and eyes bright - frantic even.
“Yo ... Guess who just called me?” She announces, taking what felt like her first breath in hours.
You look up, the question hanging in the air between you. Your thumb hovers over your phone’s screen, trying to gauge her excitement.
Paige’s gaze is intense, a slight nervous energy vibrating beneath her words. She doesn’t wait for you to guess.
“Ari,” she says, her voice a little softer now, like she’s unsure what to feel about it. “She called me.” The words hit you unexpectedly, like a slow tide pulling at your feet. A small knot forms in your stomach, not because you’re unhappy for her, but because you weren’t prepared for this.
“Oh shit,” you manage to say, trying to push away the strange, unexpected sensation that’s fluttered inside you.
“She said sorry. She said she made a mistake. Fuck, I... I don’t know even know what think.”
You lean forward a little, trying to sound reassuring. “I mean, that’s a good sign, right? She’s reaching out.”
Paige exhales a short laugh, glancing down at her hands before looking back up at you. “I guess? But fuck, it just feels... messy.”
You nod, understanding the weight of her uncertainty. You’ve seen how much this relationship meant to her, and it’s clear she’s torn.
“You wanna talk about it?” you ask.
She shakes her head, a small smile creeping onto her face. “Not yet, I think. I just... I need to think. It’s all a bit much, you know?”
The room goes silent, save for the faint hum of the TV in the background.
For a moment, you sit in the quiet, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air. And maybe it’s just you, or maybe it’s just the way Paige is looking at you now, but you sense that something has shifted—ever so slightly, but undeniably.
You’re still not sure what that means yet, or if it means anything at all. But for now, you don’t push.
She sighs and falls back onto the couch, closing her eyes. “I’ll figure it out,” she says softly, more to herself than to you but you know she’s already made her choice.
You lean back, turning your attention back to your phone, but there’s an odd feeling in your chest that refuses to settle. For a moment, you wonder what would have happened if things had gone differently, if she’d never gotten that call. But before you can think too much about it, Paige shifts beside you, her presence pulling you back down to earth.
“Thanks,” she says quietly.
You smile, almost relieved that the tension has eased, even if only for now. “Anytime.”
The night stretches on, the air between you both comfortable again. And yet, you can’t help but wonder why you feel torn. Why aren’t you bubbling with happiness, like how you’d reacted when Zen had called you in senior year to say she and Trevor had gotten back together.
Eventually, you leave the couch, muttering an excuse about needing to get back to studying.
Ari comes back into the fold of life at yours and Paige’s apartment like she’d never left.
The songs that used to fill Paige’s room—those soft, sad, contemplative ones—shift back to some‐ thing lighter, more upbeat. Her shoes reappear, scattered carelessly by the door, mingling with Paige’s own, like they always belonged together. And just like that, you go back to being good roommates.
That doesn’t hurt. It’s respectful - because who’d let their girlfriend spend nights at the basketball court together? It makes sense.
It only hurts when you come back to the apartment and see them on the couch. The lights dimmed, a fluffy blanket over their legs and a Christmas movie playing.
The first time it happens, you’re awkward. Painfully awkward. Your body not knowing how to react for the first time to something you’d seen countless times before.
You hesitate in the doorway, suddenly unsure of how to move, unsure of what to say. The air between the three of you feels thicker, heavier than it ever has before. You wish you could say something light, make a joke.
They don’t even notice at first - Paige’s attention is wholly focused on the TV screen, her hand absentmindedly brushing through her girlfriend’s hair. You feel like you’re not even supposed to be here, even though it’s your apartment too.
Eventually, though, Paige looks up, her eyes meeting yours, and for a second, the warmth in them falters. She smiles, but it’s tight, apologetic.
“Hey,” she says, her voice a little too bright, a little too forced. “You’re back. We were just watching this cheesy Christmas movie. Wanna join?”
The offer is there, hanging in the air between you, but the tension is palpable. You force a smile, shaking your head quickly.
“Nah, it’s fine,” your voice comes out more strained than you’d intended. “I was just coming in to ... grab something.”
You spend the rest of the night at Zen’s.
“So bitch, what the hell is up with you?” Zen asks. her gaze sharp as she watches you.
You blink, focusing back on her, the buzz of the rosé clouding your thoughts. “Nothing, I’m fine,” you reply, maybe a little too quickly.
“Sure ... sure you are,” she says with a knowing look, before taking a long sip from her glass, then a pause. “Dude, you’ve literally been distracted all night. Moping around everywhere.”
You hesitate, a little caught off guard. You’ve told Zen about Paige, from the odd first meeting to playing basketball together and to the events which took place hours ago.
“You sure you’re okay with them... back together?” Zen continues, her voice quieter, but there’s a softness to it now. She’s not trying to push, just letting the question sit there.
The idea that maybe everyone sees what you’re trying to hide - maybe even Paige - that part makes you feel sick.
You take another sip of your wine, the sweet sharpness of it doing nothing to dull the growing ache in your chest.
“Yeah,” you say again, but it’s not convincing. Not to Zen. Not to yourself.
Zen’s eyes soften, and for a moment, she doesn’t look at you like she’s waiting for a response. She looks at you like she already knows the answer. You know it. Damn.
***
A/N: My first Paige fic! let me know what you think and if I should continue ... I haven't written fanfiction in years, which is a shame because I used really enjoy the fic writing/reading community. I've literally had this blog on the backburner for the last 3 or so years just waiting to find the right thing to write about and here it is ... I think?
#paige bueckers#paige x reader#uconn wbb#uconn x reader#paige bueckers fic#paige bueckers angst#ncaa wbb#ncaaw#wcbb#uconn huskies
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dirty thoughts ~ park jongseong x reader
ଓ ⋆˙⊹ [ 성훈 ] ☆ you and jay have an.. odd relationship. you haven't known him long as he was paired with you in a group project for a class. he acts as if he hates you one day, but then it feels like he's you're his best friend the next. you've been having... weird... dreams about him. they started off tame, but as time went on; they began to get more and more heated... so when you wake up in the middle of the night to a figure looming over the foot of your bed, you only assumed it to be Jay. so its not fear you feel when he tells you to run.
word count ; 8.7k
incubus! dom! jay x sub! reader. reader has the worst dirty thoughts about jay its funny. chasing / hunter + prey dynamic , masochism , monster(ish) fucking , cnc , size kink , orgasm denial , dacryphilia , bulge kink , breeding , man handling , dacryphilia , fingering , stalking , corruption , reader is a bit of an oc for the plot line , sorry ! very poorly proof read so dismiss any mistakes pls !
"that's odd, I've never seen him before" you lean close to one of your friends who you sit next by, looking at the unfamiliar black-haired man that sits in the back of the classroom, his eyes locked onto his computer screen. your friend turns her head, following your line of eyesight to look at the mystery man.
"Park Jongseong I believe is what his name is" she says, briefly pausing. she squints her eyes in order to get a good look at the man before continuing
"He's really fucking attractive though, y/n. you should go over there, I mean you were partnered with him, right?" she asks, making you nod your head as an answer. Almost as if he felt your stare, his eyes look up from the computer screen in- making direct eye contact with you. his face is completely expressionless, a chill running up your spine at his stare.
You turn back around in your seat, exhaling a deep breath you didn't know you were holding before groaning.
"I guess so. I'll see you after class, yeah?' she mumbles a quick 'sure' before diverting her attention back onto her laptop.
you gather your things into your bag before standing up and heading over to the man, sucking in a deep breath before sitting down in the chair next to him. you're too afraid to say anything, his dark aura making your vocal chords feel as if they were tangled.
as you sit down, your eyes drift off to the side of his face. his jawline is perfectly chiseled and sharp, his lips full and he has his ears pierced. you mentally take note of the attractive man that sits next to you, your thoughts drifting out of your head- but are quickly snapped out of your trance as he shifts his eyes to look at you.
a gasp spills from your lips at the intense eye contact, quickly looking away from him in embarrassment.
"you are?" he asks, his tone of voice sharp and to the point - low-key scaring you.
"y/n, y/n l/n... and you?' you return the question, immediately mentally face palming as you already know who he is.
"Park Jongseong, but you can call me Jay." his voice direct and solid, no undertones of amusement that you can detect. you shift uncomfortably in your seat, grabbing out your computer before putting it on the table in front of you and creating a google slide for the project the two of you will be spending the next couple months working on.
The two of you work in silence- you being too nervous to say anything and him not wanting to speak. it was honestly frustrating, but you could care less.
class is about to end, and you still haven't said a word to each other in the agazoning hour and a half. Jay begins packing up, making you frantically pull out your phone and open up the call app in order to create a new contact. you turn to jay with a deep breath before asking your question.
"uhm, I was wondering if I could get your number? you know, since we're gonna be working together" he stares at you as if you spoke a different language, making you uncomfortable beyond belief.
"no thanks, im good." is all he says before turning around and walking out of the classroom, leaving you completely dumbfounded and a little upset.
after a moment of standing there in disbelief at his rudeness, you huff and roll your eyes- exiting the classroom angry before heading home.
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"he was so rude, I don't know why I didn't even do anything" you huff into the phone speaker, finishing up your skin care routine before putting vaseline on your lips.
"don't even worry about him, maybe he's a tough cookie to crack" you sigh, silently agreeing with your best friend. you stand up from your vanity, checking yourself out slightly as you turn around and look at your ass, your pajama shorts complimenting your figure and your tight night-shirt holding up your breasts perfectly.
"whatever, I don't care anyways. if he doesn't want to exchange numbers and at least attempt to work together in order to get a good grade, I wont object, I'll just do my half and hope he does his" you collapse onto your bed dramatically, looking up at your ceiling which glows a dim yellow thanks to your fairy lights glimmering around your room.
you flip over on your stomach, getting out your MacBook and opening instagram.
"do you think he has any social media?' you ask her, mischief laced in your voice.
"you better not." she warns, but you do it anyways.
"p-a-r-k , j-o-n-g-s-e-o-n-g.." you emphasize each letter as you type on the keyboard. the line goes quiet as you search for your project partner, but to your dismay, you find nothing.
"ugh, who on earth doesn't at least have an instagram in this day and age" you complain, making your friend giggle on the other line.
"maybe he blocked you" you instantly sit up, glaring into the empty room at who knows what.
"that's not funny." a loud laugh rings in your ear, making you groan.
"stop laughing at my misery you whore" but she doesn't, making you hang up on her. you yawn and plug your phone into the charger before turning out the lights and crawling under the covers.
the only thought in your mind as you drift off to sleep being your mysterious study partner
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you walk into class, your mind racing a million miles a minute as you look around for your seat partner, not quite seeing him until the small crowd of people disperses away from your desk, catching sight of him immediately.
his black hair is more kept today and his outfit seems a little brighter- as does his face. as soon as you walk into the room his head tilts up, his eyes meeting yours.
your heart feels as if it stops for a split second as you abruptly come to a stop.
god he's so fucking attractive
you shake your head slightly before pushing yourself into the room , your guard up and ready as you sit down next to him. you pull your stuff out of your book bag and turn to face the front of the room as he speaks.
"hi, um, sorry about last class, I wasn't feeling very good so I was kind of a dick.." his voice trails off as a shy smile spreads on his lips, his body turning in his chair to face you. your face heats up as you reciprocate his smile.
"its alright, we all have bad days" your smile doesn't falter, and neither does his. you take not of his well kept, thick eyebrows and the shape of his nose, his appearance is absolutely breathtaking and it makes you feel all sorts of things.
"so, about the project.. I was wondering if-" the two of you begin speaking about the project, picking out a topic and a format was easier than you thought.
the two of you begin chatting about other things, and you learned a few facts about your used-to-be-mysterious seat partner; how he enjoys playing the guitar in his free time, how he was born in Seattle and is a huge fan of the mariner baseball team, just a bunch of facts he shared about himself in order to bring the two of you closer together.
you also shared some interesting things about yourself; how you have two baby kitties at home , you're an art major who loves to sit and read or watch kdramas in your cozy room while drinking iced tea, or doing your makeup.
things jay already knew about you, but enjoyed listening to you ramble about them anyways.
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"he wasn't actually an asshole, he was just having a bad day is all" you explain to your friend, freshly showered and painting your toenails in your robe while sitting on your bed. your phone is on speaker sitting next to you as Sixteen Candles plays on your laptop in the background.
"that's good at least, you know... y/n you haven't really been so interested in a guy before.. let alone talked about one to me" your friend speaks honestly, making you halt your focus on your pinky toenail.
"what? ive only spoken to him twice, what makes you think I have an interest in him?" you question, going back to painting your nails a pastel pink. there's shuffling in the background before she speaks again
"I mean you've never really paid this much attention to a guy ever, you've encountered plenty of assholes guys before, but you've never spoken to me about any of them with me the way you do with jay" she says, making you poke your tongue out of the side of your mouth in frustration.
"I mean, he was actually kind of nice today, we even got to know each other a little bit. he even asked me for my phone number" you smile at the memory of him asking for your phone number.
you forgot to get his, so the communication relies on him.
"well just be careful, you never know mens' intentions these days" she warns, and you take note. you finish painting your toenails, waving your hand in order to get them to dry faster.
"yeah I will" you speak semi-honestly. for some reason, jay doesn't feel like any of the men you've encountered before; he feels warm and safe to be around even though you haven't known him for very long.
suddenly, a harsh knock can be heard coming from the front door downstairs, startling you from your quick daydream. you begin to slide off your bed with a groan, quickly exiting your room and heading downstairs.
"hey, I got to go, I'll see you later, yeah?" you say into the phone, she says a quick 'alright' before the two of you hang up.
your feet feel cold on the hardwood floor, making a shiver run up your spine with each step you take towards the front door. you look out of the peephole, only to be met with nothing on the outside.
just as you turn your back, another harsh knock echoes off the walls of the apartment, only this time its louder. your breathing turns heavy as you hesitate, turning around and unlocking and swinging the door open.
a gust of cold wind grazes your cheek and into the house, making your hair blow in the wind just slightly. you see nobody around, and a weird feeling begins to pool in your stomach.
you slam the door closed and lock both locks on it, making sure its secure before heading back over to your bed to bury yourself under the covers.
that night, you decide to leave your laptop and fairy lights on.
but when you wake up, they're both turned off.
Jay's figure looms over yours as you sleep soundly in your bed. the shadow of his silhouette cascades onto your sleeping figure thanks to the dim moonlight shining in through your window.
your skin looks soft, almost as if it was glimmering in the lighting. all he wants to do is reach out and touch your cheek- but he holds himself.
instead, he manipulates his way into your mind- but not quite altering it... yet.
he has to be patient.
he has to wait for you to bare yourself completely to him in order to have your full word.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
"oh my god" you jump up out of bed in excitement. running over to your vanity in order to grab your head band before making your way into the bathroom. jay texted you around an hour ago, asking if you wanted to meet up at his apartment in order to study. you quickly texted back a "sure" before washing your face and doing your makeup.
on the way to jay's place, you picked up an iced coffee for him , and an iced tea for you before making your way to his apartment.
"hi y/n, come on in" he greets you with a smile. he leads you into his room and its unsurprisingly clean- his bed is made neatly and his closet is organized along with his cologne collection that adorns the side of his desk. you look around the room, taking in how it smells exactly like him.
you accept his request to sit down on the bed, taking out your laptop and opening the slides of your project.
the two of you discuss further plans for the assignment for a couple hours, coming up with strategic ways to get your point across to the professor in a professional manner all while following along with the criteria of the project.
after a while of brain-sucking studying, you lean back onto the bed and stretch- your joints popping as you do so.
jay leans back on his palms and observes you, noting how tired you already are just from a couple measly hours of studying. you yawn slightly, closing your eyes as you begin to feel exhaustion wash over you.
after a few moments, you open your eyes, making direct eye contact with his and just as you do so, it feels as if the wind was knocked out of you.
jay's eyes are dark and his hair is disheveled. you gulp down saliva, not daring to move as he observes your face. your lips are parted and your fingers fidget with the rings you wear.
you feel heat begin to pool in your lower abdomen, your eyes beginning to cloud over.
oh the way he's looking at you is beginning to drive you insane, your mind racing a million miles a minute - he finds it so fucking adorable - the way you are already falling into the palm of his hand , playing right into his devious tricks.
he can basically smell the pathetic arousal pooling in your panties , and you're too innocent and confused to even know its even happening.
"jay.." his name rolls off his tongue and it takes everything inside of him to stop himself from taking you this very second - but he keeps reminding himself to be patient.
patience.
that's all he needs for his plan to fall into place.
"do you wanna go get ramen ?" his words snap you out of your haze, the whiplash hitting you like a brick from his earlier stare. you sit up on your forearms, trying to get your head to stop spinning around.
you look at him as he stands up, grabbing a coat and tossing it over to you.
"why do I need this?" you question as he puts on a coat of his own. he turns around and looks at you, crossing his arms over his chest.
"its cold out, and you didn't wear a jacket. come on , we'll go get ramen and then I'll take you home, yeah?" without questioning him, you stand up and put the jacket on before walking out the door and heading towards his car.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
desperate whimpers and whines bounce off the walls of your studio. your limbs beginning to entangle in the sheets of your bed as you attempt to relieve the tingling sensation that spreads throughout your body through your aching pussy.
your eyes are closed - a deep sleep looming over you as you dream of jays body on top of yours. his hands are soft and gentle as they caress that sweetest spot inside your cunt, the moans in your dream come out of your throat in the real world.
a thin layer of sweat coats your forehead, and your hair begins to tangle as you gently thrash around on top of your mattress in a desperate attempt to find any sort of friction.
jay finds himself standing above your bed once more, witnessing just how much he has altered your pathetic little mind in such a short amount of time, a small smirk graced on his lips.
he watches how your hips rock into nothing, the smell of your arousal circulating all around him- feeding him. his eyes glow in the dark as they look directly into your soul that will once become his.
he reaches his hand out, using the back of his fingers to brush a stray hair out of your face. he coo's at the way your face contorts into one of pleasure and pain- confusion and unsatisfactory.
"you poor thing.. soon baby, I promise." he whispers, the adorable sounds you make influence a deep sense of dread to fill his mind- he wants to take you for himself, now.
right fucking now.
but you're not finished yet, oh no.
the gears in your mind haven't been shifted to fit into his just yet.
jay kisses the top of your forehead, easing the throbbing of your clit slightly- giving you some sort of relaxation in the midst of driving you absolutely insane.
he can see inside your mind- he can see all the nasty- dirty things he does to you in the dream. how be bends you in half in order to fuck you just right- how he pulls your hair so your back can fold into a painful arch- and especially how he splits you in half with his huge cock in any position you can think of, your juices squirting over fucking everything in sight.
his eyes grow a darker shade of black, and his horns double in size as does his tail and wings, and he can feel himself gain at least a foot taller.
god how perfectly you feed right into his power- giving him everything he wished for so, so easily
your eyes open, your mind coming out of the heated dream you found yourself having. sweat covers your body and your clit still throbs at the thought of him. you lay back down, your head hitting the cushioning of the pillow as you attempt to calm your heavy breathing.
the dream felt so vivid.. and real. the way jay's cold hands caressed your soft skin, his fingers curling up inside your core. heat spreads through you in ripples just at the thought.
you felt so unbelievably guilty and somewhat disgusting as your hands slip past the waistband of your panties, your fingers finding your pulsating clit.
you rub gentle circles on your mound of muscle, wetness spreading through your folds with ease. you close your eyes and bite your lip in order to hush your moans that fill the room.
your fingers split you open, fucking your tight cunt the way you wished jay would- and how he was previously doing in the dream you so rudely awaked from.
"j-jay please" you whimper,
and little to your knowledge- he heard the way you pathetically moaned his name- he was perched on the railing of your house balcony, his huge wings drooping to the sides of his figure as his golden eyes bore into your figure as you fucked your wet pussy just to the thought of him.
the way you moaned his name made goosebumps arise on his skin, his most favorite melody you could ever create in this life time. his most favorite song he's ever heard and his restraint is wearing thin as you continue to use your pathetic little fingers to get yourself off.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
"you look tired, y/n are you alright" jay voices his concern as you enter the class. its been two months since the two of you began hanging out, so his concern wasn't out of the ordinary anymore.
jay and you have spent a lot of time together, studying and hanging out in general. you got to know him better- understand him. he was honestly so sweet and collected, his nurturing personality making you fall head over heels for him in so many ways.
especially now, when he notices the prominent eyeballs that soil the skin under your eyes- which are red and watery. your hair is a mess and you feel as if you could slump over and fall asleep any second now.
you approach the desk, setting your stuff down before laying your head down on the cool wood.
"I'll be fine, I haven't been sleeping well recently" you reply honestly, making him pinch his eyebrows at you in worry. he hesitates before putting a comforting hand on your back, rubbing up and down to soothe your mind.
heat instantly spreads through your body like wildfire.
"how about we ditch this class and go back to mine and watch a movie, we could stop and get snacks on the way" he leans down to whisper in your ear. your head turns to the side with a sly smirk gracing your lips.
"jay, wait up" you giggle as he runs towards the entrance of the corner store. he doesn't listen though, running into the store to grab whatever snacks he could find.
you run in after him, grabbing a dr. pepper and a bag of chips before looking around the building in an attempt to find the man. you spot him in the candy aisle, picking up your favorite candy bar before turning around to face you. you notice the piece of food in his hand, your mouth watering instantly.
"is that... those are my favorite" of course he already knew that, but plays dumb anyways.
"you want one" he smiles at you, grabbing another off the shelf and handing it to you.
just as the two of you go up to pay, jay whips out his card and hands it to the cashier before you had the chance to.
"you really didn't have to pay for my stuff" you say, a pout on your face as you speak. he wants to kiss that pout right off your lips- but stops himself.
he grabs the grocery bag and leans down into your ear
"shut up, let me take care of you" he runs out of the building and towards his car, leaving you whiplashed and confused. you push through the exit and head towards his car, falling into the passenger seat as you connect to the aux.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
the two of you decide to watch the original scream movie, your shared snacks sitting inbetween the two of you who sit down on the couch, undivided attention on the tv.
the sex scene comes on, and you know that even though they don't show them having sex, your cheeks heat up red anyways, looking away from the tv and focusing on grabbing the chips- but when you go and look for them, jay has them on the other side of his body, away from you.
you huff slightly to get his attention, his eyes finding yours. he follows your field of vision, an idea popping into his head.
"you can have them, but you have to take them from me" you groan dramatically, giving him an 'are you serious' look. jays expression is playful, giving you your answer.
you go to reach for them, leaning over his lap as you do so. Jay gets a good smell of your perfume, inhaling your scent deeply. he moves the chips out of your reach and above his head. you instinctively reach for them again, a giggle followed by a whine can be heard from you as you shift your body to sit on his lap.
jay freezes instantly, letting you grab the snack out of his hands before realizing what you just did.
your body freezes, and jay's hands find their way to your waist, holding you in place.
"j-jay..?' you look up at him, your face coated in a deep blush as he stares at you- his eyes turning dark... way too dark for comfort- but you don't care.
"y/n.." your ears perk up at the sound of him calling your name, like a little puppy.
"have you ever had sex?" the question throws you completely off guard, making you shift in his lap uncomfortably. he then realizes the position the two of you are in and how you squirm around in his hold.. he could overpower you oh so easily, it makes his cock begin to harden. Jay has a mental war with himself before he grips your waist and pulls you to sit right next to him instead. you avert your eyes away from the man- deciding to look at the tv instead, trying to gather your thoughts.
your reaction is enough of an answer, wetness pooling in your panties- you feel his eyes burning into your body. as you focus your eyes onto the tv, and your face heats up even more at the scene where Stu chases Sidney through the house in the ghost face mask. you know this is supposed to be a horror movie, but something about the idea of being chased makes you feel so much hotter than you already are.
you swallow hard, deciding to look back at jay in order to distract yourself, answering his question.
"u-uhm, no ? I mean guess not.." god you're so fucking cute. so perfect and innocent, the newfound information making jays head feel light as he stares at you, completely forgetting about the movie.
he can tell just by how red your face is that you are enjoying this part of the movie. almost as if hes reading your thoughts.
you enjoy being chased, the thrill and adrenaline caused by the question of 'what if I get caught' fuels your growing arousal, the two of you looking at each other deeply. for a second, you think hes about to lean in to kiss you, but just before he does..
he focuses his attention back onto the movie, leaving you to widen your eyes and question what the hell just happened within the last five minutes.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
the next couple of weeks felt long and agonizing, your feelings for jay only growing stronger by the second.
countless nights you spent awake, or forced awake due to the dirty dreams you've been having about the familiar black haired male. everything about him kept dragging you in more and more, it was almost impossible to stay away from him for more than a few hours.
the dreams became more vivid- jays face gaining more and more detail with every dream you have.
its driving you insane. everything about him is. the way his touch would linger on your skin, the way his eyes would darken every time he looked at you, the way he was beginning to be protective over you- everything he does make you feel like bursting at the seams.
especially with the last dream you had. it felt like it kept going on and on for hours at a time.
his hips snapping against yours in a beautiful rhythm, how his cock split you in half, how his hands would ease you to orgasm over and over again repeatedly.
it felt wrong how many nights you'd masturbaited to the thought of his touch, the sound of his voice whenever he would send you an audio message or leave a voicemail.
oh fuck was he driving you crazy and you have no idea why. it was honestly making you feel sick with how badly you've begun to ache for him, any part of him.
so here you were now... one week without a word from jay, and it was honestly one of the worst weeks you've had in years.
he missed the group presentation- leaving you to do it all alone. the feeling of patheticness radiates through your body as you walk to campus, sending jay yet another text about how worried you were about him.
he missed your happy reaction to getting an A on the project... but having nobody to celebrate with.
Jay left without a trace, and without a warning , leaving you with nothing but his hoodie. you've even gone to his apartment in hopes of running into him, but came up empty-handed.
a couple weeks ago, the two of you were almost never seen without the other, if one was somewhere- the other had to be somewhere close by. Jay treated you so gently- like you were the most precious thing on this earth before he disappeared.
"y/n, he's fine I promise" your best friend tries to ease your mind as she lays on your bed, looking through your magazines while music plays in the background.
you've been going on a tangent about how jay hasnt even texted you in the last week, let alone make his existence known to you at all. it was weird and out of the ordinary for him to just, stop existing.
you look at yourself in the mirror, not really recognizing the person on the other side of the mirror. eyebags are heavily tainting your skin, and you've lost weight due to the fact that you never sleep.
although jay was gone, the dreams remained.
you sigh into your palms, raking your fingers through your freshly-washed hair and then down your face in frustration.
"you're right, maybe something came up and his phone broke, im sure I'll hear from him soon" you attempt to reassure yourself, standing up from your vanity after finishing your skincare.
you turn to face your best friend as she stands up, grabbing her bag.
"I need to go, its hella late and I have class in the morning" you nod your head, seeing her out of the house before collapsing into bed, sipping your phone out of your pocket and checking yours and jays text chain.
still nothing
you sigh, turning on your side as your head begins to hurt once more, a familiar feeling you've grown accustomed to.
your eyes feel like burning as a single tear makes its way down your cheek.
you're so fucking worried about him.
you would give just about anything to see him again, the feeling of unknowing agony coursing through your veins as you type out another message, sending it without hesitation.
please answer me
I love you
it seems fast- but it really wasn't. especially with how close the two of you have grown in these passed few months, it was going to come sooner or later- you just wish it was under different circumstances.
your head hits the pillow after you turn out your lights, drifting off into a deep sleep.
feel your core tingle, feeling as if it was on fire.
your eyes open, the first thing in sight was jay's eyes bearing into you- but hes different. everything about him is different as his fingers reach inside your core- threatening to split you down the middle in the most prettiest way.
his eyes are golden, shining in the light. his face is sharp, curled horns complimenting the top of his head that you've never seen before. a huge pair of wings drape down on either side of his body, a pointed tail flicking up and over his head inbetween his wings.
you gasp- not only at his new appearance- but the odd pleasure that takes over your entire being as jay toys with you ever so slightly, an overwhelming feeling of dread, anxiety, and oh so much pleasure to where it feels like its going to explode out of your fingertips.
jay leans down, beginning to hover over your much smaller frame. his name rolls off your tongue, and for some reason- you feel tears roll down your cheek while your hands reach up to wrap around his back- pulling him in closer to your body as he fucks his fingers inside you.
your body is hot- your hips bucking up into nothing but air as you whine incoherent sentences.
he stands at the foot of your bed- witnessing you fall apart under his gaze. the strong scent of your hormones and arousal filter through his nose- claiming his senses.
his name rolling off your tongue makes his eyes shift even darker than they are currently, your sleepy body beginning to shift awake just before your orgasm washes over you.
your body forces itself to sit up, heavy breathing filling the room of your studio. confusion washes over your face as you look up at the man before you, pain radiating out of your heart so severe, it almost physically pains you.
"j-jay..?"
"hello, beautiful." your breath shudders as you exhale, taking in his appearance; he looks the exact same way he did in your dream... he's freakishly tall with curled horns, huge wings, a tale and deep golden eyes that make you shrink ever so slightly.
warm tears run down your cheeks, a number of emotions cloud your brain so badly that it affects the way you think- unable to form any useful thoughts.
"jay please" you have no idea what you're begging for, but do so anyways. he lifts his eyebrows, a pout on his lips as he tilts his head to the side.
"what do you want, my love?" its abundantly obvious how needy you have become... but jay's going through the exact same thing, but he's better at concealing it. more tears spill from your red eyes, and they feel like acid on your face.
"you.. please, I need you please" you crawl across the bed towards his huge frame, his chest broad and open due to the fact that he's only wearing a pair of what appears to be tan shorts. you stop just in front of him, his body leaning down to capture your face in his hand.
his breath fans your face, observing you up close.
you should be scared- you should be telling him to run away- but the fluttering of your pussy prevents you from doing so, your abdomen tight and cramping with need.
your eyebrows pinch together, your skin glowing in the moonlight that shines down through your curtains that dance in the wind thanks to your open balcony door.
he chuckles at the look on your face, letting you go and standing back up. his body straightens as he looks down at your trembling body.
"run" before a thought can form, your feet are already moving before you know it. your hand tightens on the railing as you sprint downstairs in the dark.
you turn a sharp corner and head straight for the kitchen, but your short freedom is cut to an abrupt halt as you see jay standing on the other side of the kitchen, his arms folded across his chest.
your breathing is heavy, your body spinning around on your heel while you break into another sprint; this time heading down a hallway and towards the front door.
his laugh is surrounding you, almost taunting your pathetic attempts of escape.
you fling the front door open, but scream when you see his tall figure standing on the other side just before you slam it just as quickly as it was opened. your body rushes into the living room which is completely coated in darkness that its borderline impossible to make out any sort of figure.
you run into a wall, and that's when you see the golden eyes- standing a mere couple feet away from you.
"got you" his voice carries through the room, making a shiver run down your spine. within a blink of an eye, his body is right in front of yours- hovering over you. your eyes bore into his lower chest.
a whine leaves your throat as his fingers ghost across your thigh, trailing up your arm and towards your face as he cups your cheek, tilting your head up in order to look at him.
sweat drips off your hairline, your body trembling in his hold.
you're so conflicted as his thumb traces gentle circles on your skin. your nose begins to sting, as do your eyes.
the smallest of tears trail down your cheek, hitting jays thumb as he caresses you. his body contact feels like fire, the burning pit in your stomach only grows and you swear your underwear is completely soiled at this point.
more hushed whines string out of your parted, chapped lips.
he would have taken you in an instant, never giving you the chance to run away. but ever since he saw you all those months ago, he knew you weren't just some ordinary human.
you were a human that was worth all the pain that this world has pushed onto him, and then some.
he loves you.
he looks at you as if you hold the entire world in his hands, and it calms you for just a second
"jay.."
but no matter how badly he wants to be with you; it simply can't happen.
"what do you want, sweetheart?" he asks, watching your face contort into one of painful pleasure. your eyes are teary and half-lidded as they stare into his.
"you... please... need you and only you jay please" you beg, making a smile arise on his face.
fuck he's insane.
"give yourself to me baby, let me take you for myself precious" you frantically nod your head, his body beginning to press into yours- resulting in your back hitting the cool wall behind you.
"are you really willing to give up everything you are? your god wont ever be able to save you my love, no amount of wishing, praying, reading, or manifesting will ever be in your favor, you will forever me mine until death do you part.. and even past then." he questions, watching your every move as his free hand comes to the slope of your waist, holding you in place as his knee begins to push your legs apart, your clothed heat pressing up against his thigh.
"please.. yes take me, take me please I dont- I dont want anything else" the second the words leave your mouth, he kisses your forehead, a ripple of gold spreading from his lips onto your skin and down your face; making this moment official. his hands lift you into the air. your legs wrap around his torso, your hands flying towards the back of his head in order to tug on his black locks.
his lips finds yours in an instant, his long tongue intruding passed your lips in order to explore your mouth. he pushes you into the wall once more, making you hiss at the sharp cold of the sheet rock.
everything around you feels like its burning, especially his skin on yours. your hips grind into his body, your wetness being felt on his skin instantly.
he detaches his lips from yours with a wet pop, moving his head down to the crook of your neck in order to suck deep, purple marks into your perfect skin. your hands tug his hair roughly, the heat of his lips making it impossible to focus. you squirm in his hold, pressing your body impossibly closer to his.
Jay groans at the feeling of you tugging his hair and begins to move, walking up the stairs and towards your room. He gently puts you down onto the bed, beginning to crawl over your shaking figure.
you lay down, your back flush against the comfortable sheets as he hovers over you. your hands instantly move to wrap around his neck, bringing him down so his lips meet with yours in a deep, passionate kiss.
you feel his hands wander to the base of your shirt, and in one swift motion; he rips the flimsy piece of fabric while a gasp exits your mouth. Jay tosses it across the room to be forgotten, his focus primarily on you and you alone.
his knee makes its way to your clothed heat, pressing up against your pussy in order to give you the slightest bit of friction you so desperately wished to possess. you moan into his mouth, to which he happily swallows into the depths of his being.
you grind down onto his thigh, a sigh of relief can be heard from you as his hands move down to your hips, guiding you down onto him.
he feels his cock harden, straining against his shorts painfully. you feel him grow against you, your eyes opening slowly as you lean back to look at him- the real him.
"Jay..." he licks his bottom lip, his eyes glowing brighter with every passing second.
"please" you say, almost as if you're in agony. he shakes his head with a smirk on his face, dipping down to the junction between your neck and shoulder, licking a stripe up your skin towards your ear before his teeth sink into you.
a scream erupts from your throat, pushing your hips downwards harshly, releasing the pent up frustration through the tugging on his hair.
Jay sits up, admiring the beautiful little thing squirming underneath him. your hips pathetically rock into his leg, a wet patch forming on his shorts.
He hisses at the sight, instantly halting your hips as a whine of protests sounds out of you. With impatience, jay rips your flimsy lace panties and tosses them onto the ground. you suck in a deep breath at his actions just before he leans down to capture his mouth on yours once more.
after a few moments, he detaches from you, trailing his kisses towards your neck and down your sternum. Jay then takes one of your already-perky nipples into his mouth, mounding the other in his huge hands. the ring that he wears pinches you with cold, making you shiver.
he tongues your nipple, sucking and biting on your nub as you buck your hips into nothing, searching for him without meaning to. he chuckles at your actions, moving his face to the other nipple.
you squeal as he takes your nipple inbetween his teeth and bites down harshly, looking at you through his eyebrows before detaching. your breathing increases after, his wet kisses trailing down your stomach and abdomen, leaving scorching fire in its wake.
the pressure in your abdomen grows as he stops his lips right above your pussy, blowing cold air onto your clit.
"fuck baby.. you're dripping all over the bed sweetheart.." he taunts you, your face heating up in embarrassment. the way your cunt squeezes around nothing drives him up the wall, and all he wants to do is fuck you raw right then and there.
instead, his mouth latches onto your clit- licking, sucking and biting on your bundle of nerves instantly. your back arches off the bed and you thrust your fingers into the sheets, keeping yourself grounded as he begins to eat you out.
his long tongue fucks itself into your throbbing hole, your legs beginning to shake just from the pure euphoric feeling of this demons mouth.
"j-jay oh my g-od pl-please" you hiccup, your eyes slowly close as you're left seeing stars. the way your pussy clenches down onto his tongue makes him question how on earth are you going to be able to take his cock... because its bigger than the average human... much bigger.
he's worried he would quite literally split you in half.
but you're such a good girl, so he know's you'll be able to take it.
your legs move on their own, helping your hips grind into his face in search of your orgasm. Jay alternates from splitting you open with his tongue, to licking and sucking on your puffy clit.
he laps at you like a dog in heat; as if his life depends on it.
he's set on completely and utterly consuming your entire being, making you one with him.
you feel a knot begin to form, jumbled and beyond tangled as his tongue works its magic on your virgin clit, and you feel that knot start to unravel; quickly.
Jay moves his hand to your pussy, pushing one of his long, thick fingers into your pussy, resulting in a choked moan to sound from just above him. you squeeze around his digit that's curling and twisting up inside you in order to graze that candy-sweet spot deep inside your walls.
"c-cum please.. wan' cum jay please" his eyes never look away from you, witnessing all the pretty faces you make as you create a mess all over his face, your juices dripping down his chin to stain the bedding below.
"let go baby, make a mess all over me sweet girl" and so you do, your back arching as your legs move in an attempt to squeeze around his head, his tongue not letting up the quick pace he has set whilst eating you out.
your taste is heavenly as you cream all over his face, pulling his fingers out of you to wrap his arms around your legs in order to pull your pussy impossible closer to him. your juices stain his entire face as you orgasm, your stomach feels tight and your walls flutter around nothing in particular apart from the air.
you come down from your high just as jay sits up, peeling off the shorts in order to reveal his cock and oh fuck...
he was fucking massive. his tip was leaking pretty pearls of precum that drip down his length as his dick springs up to hit his stomach, reaching passed his belly button.
his cock was so fucking pretty, veins complimenting his girth that run up his entire length and his tip was tan-ish pink, your mouth instantly dried at the sight.
"'s big.. 'nd pretty.." you whisper, your gaze already completely fucked out. you glow in the moonlight, the way you look is nothing short of angelic- and even more. your hands reach out for him, a silent plea for him to come closer.
you need to touch him, feel him, take him.
every fiber of your being craves the man before you, possessively. he crawls over you, his large hand coming to cup your cheek, his forehead resting on yours as he takes his cock into his other hand, pressing his tip against your clit.
your eyes stare into his as he rubs his dick up and down your wet slit, gathering your slick before pushing his tip in.
the stretch hurts an unbelievable amount, and you see his wings shudder at the feeling of your cunt's squeeze. your hands move on their own, coming to grips the top of his pitch black wings to keep yourself steady.
he slowly pushes inside you, thoughts beginning to pop up in your mind if he's going to tear you.
your breathing turns rapid and your eyes start to roll into the back of your head with every fucking centimeter, but jay can't take his eyes off of how a bulge begins to form in your lower abdomen the more he pushes himself inside you.
"so small.. such a tiny little girl, I could break you so easily" he speaks to himself, the way your drenched cunt sucks him in causes him to thrust his entire length inside you, his balls smacking the skin of your ass.
a pained cream scratches its way out of your throat, your nails dig into his wings while tears spill down your cheeks for the nth time that night. he trails his eyes up to your face, leaning down to kiss away the salty tears on your face before kissing your forehead.
you squirm around under him, his entire body swallowing yours while you adjust to his length. his cock pushes up passed your cervix and you swear his tip kisses your god damn stomach.
"j-jay 's too much- can't... pleaase oh god." your helpless squirming continues, but he only hushes you.
"you can take it sweet thing, such a good girl f' me yeah?" you nod your head, his hips moving in order to start thrusting inside of you. it takes a little for the stinging to go away, the pain being replaced by earth shattering pleasure as his pace picks up.
the hand on your face moves to hold himself up on his forearm, resting above your head as the other holds onto your waist, keeping you in place as he fucks himself into you at a rougher, meaner pace that has your nails drawing blood from his wings.
he splits you completely open, the bulge in your belly disappearing and reappearing with every thrust of his hips that snap against yours ruthlessly. you throw your head back into the pillow, your back arching off the mattress. your cunt squeezes down on him tightly, milking him completely dry.
the sounds of skin slapping fill the entire house along side deep groans coming from the demon that takes your breath away, complimented with the perfect melody of your high-pitched, sweet moans.
a white ring forms at the base of jay's cock, a symbol of your guy's unison as one. his balls smack against you.
he lifts his hand up from the mattress above your head, gripping onto the bed frame instead. his nails dig into the skin of your waist so harshly, jay can almost feel blood under his fingernails.
your legs begin to kick around while your hole flutters around jays dick like the prettiest butterfly that's been caught in the devils cage- keeping you all for himself, your beauty being seen for his eyes and his eyes alone.
another orgasm begins to over flow, jay helping you tip it over. your hands move from his gigantic wings in order to grip the sheets besides you, your jaw slacking open while your moans pick up hefty volume.
Jay senses your orgasm before you do, so he sits up and leans back, both hands finding their way to your hips in order to force your body down onto his cock as his pace turns insane, fucking you senseless from the inside out. your body is lifted up into the air apart from your shoulders and head which lay on the comfortable mattress.
"oh my god h-holy fuck s' full, no no can't, please" you shake your head from side to side, your cheeks completely soaked with tears from the scorching pleasure your entire body feels, each thrust feeling like heatwaves that course through your veins .
"look at you; a pathetic, needy little mess. gonna breed this fucking pussy until my cum is dripping out of your hole. would you like that sweetheart?" you nod your head, not understanding a word hes saying.
the coil snaps, your orgasm squirting all over his chest and abdomen.
jay tongues his cheek, a smile forming on his face as he decides to fuck you through your orgasm. overstimulation controls your senses, your hands find his chest in an attempt to push him away.
"no s-stop please, no no please" your words make him scoff, his eyes hold all the lust imaginable as he effortlessly flips you over onto your stomach before landing a stinging slap on your ass.
"shut up" he grips your hair and pulls, your back arching and your scalp burns. he leans down to your ear, licking the skin behind it before speaking.
"you're gonna take whatever I give you like a good little girl, understand?" before getting an answer, he pushes your face into the sheets and spreads your legs, inserting his cock back into your messy, abused hole.
he resumes his pace, his tip kissing passed your cervix painfully as you lay down and take it. your pleasured sounds are swallowed by the pillows on your bed, your hands pull at the sheets desperately and you feel yourself begin to fall apart.
bursts of colors are seen behind your eyelids as you cum once more, making jay throw his head back with one particularly loud groan. he slaps your ass once more, the red hand print taking up the entirety of your ass cheek.
"'m almost done darling, I got you baby, I got you im right here" he hears your loud moans turn into quiet mewls, your drool soaks the pillow beneath you.
his words make you squeeze his length one last time as he shoots his warm ropes of cum deep into your body, completing his final wish in making you his.
"shh baby, its okay im right here"
౨ৎ taglist ;
@honeybelleee
#⊹ ⋆꒰ఎ ♡ ໒꒱ ⋆゚⊹#girlblog ♡#♡#phoebe's blog ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗#enhypen smut#enhypen jay x reader#enhypen x reader#park jongseong x reader smut#park jongseong x you#park jongseong smut#park jongseong x reader#park jongseong#enhypen jongseong#jongseong x reader#jongseong smut#jongseong hard hours#park jay#park jay x reader#enhypen jay x reader smut#jay x reader smut#jay x reader#enhypen
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“Is that her?”
Aoi pauses at the whispered question, glancing down towards the three younger girls who are helping her hang up laundry. The three younger girls who are no longer focused on hanging up laundry, rather –Naho, Sumi, and Kiyo are currently peering curiously towards the other end of the garden, where Shinobu-sama is standing with the newest guest to the Butterfly Estate.
Snow-white hair, and deep blue eyes. The coloration is unusual and eye-catching, and it only takes an instant for Aoi to realize that this is the girl from the rumors. It has to be her –the one who’d saved the Flame Pillar by killing Upper Moon Three, and the one whom Oyakata-sama had mobilized so many people to search for over the better part of the past month.
“It has to be, right? Didn’t Nagakura-san say that the girl who saved the Flame Pillar would be staying at the Butterfly Estate for a while?” Naho peeks over the edge of the freshly-washed bed sheet. “Look at the way that Shinobu-sama is talking to her! It seems like she’s someone important, doesn’t it?”
Naho’s observation is very astute. Even though the white-haired girl only looks to be around Aoi’s age, Shinobi-sama does not speak to her as if she were a junior demon slayer. Rather… there’s a certain level of respect, and… wariness…?
The suddenly girl turns around. Blue eyes look towards them, precise and unflinching, causing all three of the younger girls to let out startled squeaks of surprise simultaneously. Aoi squeaks a little bit, too, embarrassed at having been caught staring red-handed by their new guest.
Shinobu-sama glances towards them, smiles, then says something to the white-haired girl. Then, she leads the other girl over to them.
“I see that you’ve already noticed our new guest,” Shinobu-sama says. “This is Gojo Shiki –our newest recruit to the Demon Slayer Corps, recruited by Oyakata-sama himself after her timely assistance to Rengoku-san.”
The girls pull themselves together, and offer their greetings in a cheerful chorus together. Aoi, too, echoes a polite greeting, and introductions are exchanged.
“Hello.” Gojo-san bows slightly, courteously. The movement is refined and elegant, and Aoi finds herself staring a bit at the other girl. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Gojo-san will be staying with us in the Butterfly Estate for a while,” Shinobu-sama informs them. “She… hasn’t trained with a cultivator before, and there are certain gaps in her knowledge that Oyakata-sama would like me to fill in for her. We also need to send a missive to the Swordsmith Village; she’ll also need a nichirin blade.”
Aoi blinks.
… How in the world had Gojo-san killed a demon, then?! And Upper Moon Three, no less?
“Is there something special about a ‘nichirin blade?’” Gojo-san asks.
Aoi stares at the girl, then turns incredulously to Shinobu-sama.
“… Yes,” Shinobu-sama says. “They’re special blades forged with crimson iron sand and scarlet ore, from the Sunlight Mountain. Decapitating a demon with such a blade will kill them, instead of allowing them to regenerate from their injuries.”
Gojo-san’s expression does not change. But for some reason, Aoi gets the impression that the other girl isn’t very impressed.
Shinobu-sama seems to realize it too, because she lets out a small huff. “Although… from what I understand, the weapon that you used to kill Upper Moon Three wasn’t a nichirin weapon, was it?”
“No.” Gojo-san tilts her head slightly. Then, proceeds to reach inside the sleeve of the kimono she’s wearing, and pulls out a… knife? “I used this.”
… Isn’t that just a normal knife? The kind that’s used in regular households and the like?!
Aoi looks at the knife, then looks at Gojo-san, and swiftly comes to a decisive conclusion:
She’s utterly terrifying.
#writing#zenith of stars au#demon slayer au#idk if it's going to be more butterfly estate stuff next#or yoshiwara district stuff next#both will be fun#:3#special thanks to ko-fi friends!
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[Gifs description slightly expanded upon alt text: gifs of Amelia Pond and the Eleventh Doctor, from the TV show Doctor Who (2005). They’re in a baby’s room, with Amy being heavily pregnant.
She kneels next to Rory's ashes, slightly rocking herself, looking up at the Doctor. She says, "Save him. You save everyone, you always do. It's what you do."
"Not always," the Doctor says, standing and fidgeting with his fingers. A close-up on Amy's face shows her tearful eyes and the tear tracks on her cheeks. Her slight hopeful smile disappears, her face turning cold. "I'm sorry," the Doctor says, looking down, and the close-up on his face shows his regretful expression.
Amy turns scornful and accusing as his words sink in. She leans forwards, saying, "Then what... is the point of you?"
The Doctor looks down again, staying silent.
The camera goes back to a wide shot of Amy, showing her tenderly grasping onto Rory's ashes. The camera still does a close-up on the Doctor’s face, showing him mouth something as he makes to move forwards and closer to Amy, but hesitates to do so. /End GD]
This is the dream. Definitely this one. Now, if we die here, we wake up, yeah? (in bold) Unless we just die. (in plain text) Either way, this is my only chance of seeing him again. This is the dream. (in bold) How do you know? (in plain text) Because if this is real life, I don’t want it (”it” is italicized). I don’t want it.
#doctor who#dw#eleventh doctor#amy pond#dwedit#dwgif#dr who#the doctor#11th doctor#amelia pond#gif described#hopeedit#mine#i went to war against my computer for TWO DAYS to make this gifset just so you know#and i LOST but here's the gifset anyway#anyway this scene. pain.#the way amy emphasizes that 'what'#the pause she makes after saying it and the pause she makes /before/ speaking up#the way the doctor doesn't try to defend himself because he /agrees/ with her#because he blames himself too for not being able to bring rory back and for letting him die to begin with#and the way he still /itches/ to reach out to her and comfort her anyway#the way he looks at her so carefully; not wanting to make her feel worse and wanting nothing more but to be allowed to make her feel better#at the same time#and staying put anyway because he knows amy /won't/ allow him to try to make her feel better#that /his/ comfort and support is the last thing that'd make her feel better right now#and so he stays silent and doesn't defend himself because letting her blame him is the only way he can help her feel better right now#the love is there and it makes them tear at each other and it makes them let it happen#anyway 😭💔
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˚ ✦ 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐎𝐃 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ . *
WARNINGS: skin to skin contact, cuddling, it's all fluff but yk, pet names, light NSFW, I apologize if my view of these characters do not line up with yours or they may seem inaccurate, this is a mess btw, + lazy editing
SUMMARY: The love of their life/favorite person (you) graced them with love, affection and skin to skin contact...
CHARACTERS: Everyone x F!Creator Reader
WORD COUNT: 20.680
A/N: This was written before Natlan came out soo no Natlan characters yet. Also, the platonic parts are shorter. I unfortunately can't add more tags, they somehow stopped.
Aether
Aether is all too happy to spend his time with you on the cliffside; he leans against you, his head resting idly against your shoulder. Whenever he speaks, his breath would brush against your neck, tickling you gently. He is practically melting against you; he’s like a clingy cat, enjoying every second your warm skin touches his. "I've missed you," he says softly, lifting his head to gaze up at you with a dreamy smile.
You can't help but chuckle, "Understandable, you're barely by my side. You always end up traveling over Teyvat." Aether’s expression softens. He looks a little guilty when you bring up travelling, but his arms tighten around you, pulling his body a little closer.
”I know I’m always off adventuring…but I always come back to you. I always come back to you.” He pauses, and then he smiles a little wider. He seems cheeky when he adds: ”You do remember that, right?”
You pinch his cheek, such a brat sometimes. Aethers face scrunches up as you gently pinch his cheek. He looks disgruntled for a few moments, before he grins. His expression becomes warm and soft when he returns to the conversation. ”Well, as long as you remember,” he says with a smile. His gaze flits to the side for a moment, as he looks up at the sky; the sun is setting, casting warm light upon the landscape. He shivers.
”It’s getting cold.” he grins again, before he nestles himself comfortably against you. He wraps his arms around your midriff, trying to pull you closer.
”And you’re so warm,” he mutters, burying his face against you. He’s enjoying this more than a little...
Albedo
He can't help it. He wraps his arms around you, clinging to you almost desperately. He doesn't care how it looks or how utterly pathetic he seems as he clings to you. "Your Grace..." he mumbles, shifting further to bury his head against your collarbone. His hold on you has grown almost like an iron grip, as though he expects you to vanish the second he lets go.
He seems terrified, in a way, of the thought that this is merely an ephemeral dream. That he'll wake up and find himself by his shrine in the cold with only a lingering memory of your warm touch. He fears that any second, you would pull away and he would be left empty and wanting more. Like an addict deprived of their fix, he fears and craves for your touch with his whole heart. "Hmm?" a hum escapes you as you mindlessly stroke his hair. Albedo's body seems to loosen like liquid as you stroke his hair. He leans against you, almost desperately soaking up the affection like an addicted man.
"Your Grace..." he mumbles again, shivering as you run your hands through his silky strands. The action is so simple, and yet he seems to relish in the feeling. His arms are still around you, and they tighten again as you stroke his hair. After being deprived of affection for so long, he can't help but cling to you as though you'll slip away the second he lets go.
"Please don't... leave, ever"
Amber
She sighs softly as ahe curls against you, he back against your chest. The sound of the breeze gently blowing the blades of the windmill makes her smile faintly, as her eyes flutter shut. Luckily it's night, or the people of Mondstadt would go wild over the fact that you would be here. Amber seems at peace like this, and she can't resist nuzzling into your neck. Her expression is soft and she hums quietly along with the sound of the windmill, the gentle breeze making her hair stir from its position.
“Your Grace?” she calls quietly, lifting her head up just enough to meet your eyes. "Hmm?" Amber hesitates, for a moment, before asking his next question quietly. “You… you said you love me too, when I told you I love you. Do you-“ she pauses, her voice cracking, and she has to force out the next few syllables, “do you really mean it?”
"Of course I mean it." Amber lets her head fall backwards against your chest again, her expression softening. A mixture of emotions flicker across hwr face, a look of relief, but also disbelief that this is all real, that you truly love her.
“Say it again, please?”
"I love you."
"...thank you, so much."
Al-Haitham
Al-Haitham has his arms wrapped around you, holding you against him close. He can feel the rise and fall of your chest against his, every breath you take a gentle reminder of your presence. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling the scent that's so distinctly you. You feel his heart thudding against your back, but he seems otherwise still, holding you firmly and yet gently at the same time. Each breath he takes is shaky, as if he could shatter at any moment. His arms tighten around you, holding you so close that he's afraid he may be hurting you. But he can't help himself. You're here. You're in his arms, warm and close and alive.
He shuts his eyes, inhaling the scent of your hair. "Yours," he whispers quietly into your skin. "Hm? What?" you heard what he said, you just wanted him to say it again more clear. He feels your hum more than he hears it, the low rumble in your body reverberating through his own. Al-Haitham keeps his arms wrapped tightly around you, his body moulding itself around you.
He lifts his head, whispering into your ear, "I said, 'yours.'"
Every fiber of his being belongs to you, and he feels the need to remind you.
"Yours, and mine" he whispers again, pulling you closer.
Arlecchino
Her arms are wrapped around your naked body, her exposed chest warm against your back. Her head rests atop yours, arms curling around your body to hold you closer. She can feel your hair against her skin, and she breathes in your scent. It's so familiar to her. So perfect.
She holds you like she's worried you'll be snatched away from her. Arlecchinos breathing is slow and measured, matching the steady rhythm of the crackling fireplace. Her chest rises and falls against your back, a constant reminder of her presence.
With you in hwr arms, she feels whole. She presses her nose to your head again, inhaling.
"That was nice..." you whisper, snuggling into her chest more and closing your eyes, enjoying the peace and quite. Arlecchino lets out a quiet laugh, her breath ruffling your hair.
"It was beautiful," she agrees. "You are beautiful." She reaches down and brushes her fingernails along your skin, the tips moving down your arm, tracing patterns against your skin.
"No, it was prefect, just like you." She corrects herself.
Ayaka
Ayaka can barely believe it.
She's in your bed, in your arms, pressed against the very body she's worshipped for so long. For a few moments, she's simply frozen as her mind struggles to catch up. Ayaka knows she should speak or do something, but the feeling of your body next to hers is a sensation so completely foreign, she's utterly speechless. All of this is new— the soft press of your curves against her back, your breath by her ear..."Your hair is so soft, 'yaka" you whisper against her ear. Ayaka feels her face flush at your words. Her hands involuntarily clutch at the sheets, pulling at them as she struggles to not react to your touch— except...she loves it. She loves it more than anything.
Her eyes flutter shut as she tries to keep herself in control. She wants to give into you, lean back, let herself melt into you... but at the same time, she can't. She struggles to speak, managing to stutter out, "May I...turn around, please?"
You obviously give her permission. Ayaka lets out a soft breath, feeling it leave her lungs. At your affirmation, she turns around, finally facing you.
For a moment, Ayaka doesn't meet your eyes, she meets your lips. She's all too aware of how close you are to her, how her body presses against yours. She tries to still her heart, but the warmth of your skin burns through her clothes, leaving her senses overwhelmed.
"Your lips..."
Ayato - nah cause for some reason that's my fav??
He buries his face into your hair and sighs, his chest rising and falling against your back with the motion.
"You smell so sweet," he confesses. His nose brushes against the shell of your ear gently, as if afraid to break the spell. "Like you are heaven made flesh." You raise a skeptic eyebrow, "Heaven made flesh huh? The most accurate description I've heard all those millenia." "Heaven made flesh," he mumbles again, his arms pulling you in closer to him. His fingers dig into your sides, holding you tight.
He takes a deep breath, the scent of your hair filling his nostrils like a drug. "If my hands burn when they touch you, well," he says gently, "then it serves me right for having the arrogance to touch an angel." You roll your eyes, "Don't be ridiculous, you have never burnt yourself by touching me" "Don't I?" He teases, laughing gently along with you. He brushes his lips against your neck, his breath coming out as a warm shiver against your skin.
"I may not be physically burnt, but I feel the heat all the same," he whispers. "I feel the heat when you laugh, when you speak, when I look at you. You're my own personal inferno." "And you are water, pure and fresh. If I'm an inferno, you will evaporate." you add. He laughs softly against your skin. "What a beautiful way to describe me. Water. Fresh. Pure."
He smiles, pulling back ever so slightly. The hand at your waist wanders to your chin, lifting it so that he can look you in the eyes.
"A waterfall doesn't evaporate when it brushes against fire," he says, blue eyes sparkling. "It extinguishes it." You blink, once, twice, until you deadpan. "So you wanna kill me?" Ayato scoffs, pulling you in closer to his chest and burying his face in your hair once more.
"Of course not," he answers, his tone indignant. "I don't wish to kill you. I wish to drown you."
He chuckles at his own words, the sound full and rich against your ear.
"Together we boil?" You ask
"Together we boil."
Baizhu
Changsheng, the white-scaled serpent, rests herself in a loose coil around Baizhu's neck, draped across his broad shoulders. She lifts her head and flicks her tongue out, glancing at you with her slitted eye before settling back into her nap.
As for Baizhu himself, he remains tense and stock-still at your side. He is utterly stiff, as if afraid that if he moved, he would somehow lose your touch. "You should relax and take a rest. You've been working too hard lately." Changsheng nods, "You tell this idiot." Baizhu blinks as if he's trying to process your words. To suggest that he rests, especially in your presence, seems... almost disrespectful. But after a glance at your face, he swallows his protest, opting to give a small nod at your suggestion.
"As you wish," he replies after a moment's hesitation. He almost looks ashamed; almost as if not working and devoting his entire being to you at all moments is failing you. Baizhu remains silent as you run soft fingers through his hair. He seems almost afraid to move, to breathe, to break some unspoken rule regarding his position as your humble worshiper.
His eyes flutter shut as you idly toy with his hair, threading your fingers through the green locks and gently tugging. Even the small gesture is enough to almost send him to another world. He takes a careful, deliberate inhale, savoring the scent of your presence.
"Realxing can be nice", at this point he's already half asleep when he said that. But one is for sure fully awake now, "Been saying that since forever, but you never listen!" "Shh Changsheng."
Barbara - aged up
She is cuddling you so close she's practically molded to you, with her breathing and the beating of her heart syncing up to match your rhythm.
She nuzzles her head against yours, burying herself against you and breathing deep with an almost desperate need. It's as though she can't get enough of you, and as if you're the air she needs to breathe. "I… I love you," she murmurs, like a prayer. "Never leave me." With every word she says, Barbara holds you even closer to her. She craves your presence, your touch, and your words more than anything else in the world.
With each gentle whisper of 'never leave me,' she grips you tighter in her arms, burying herself against you like she wants to become one with your very being.
"You're everything," she whispers. "I want to be with you forever."
"Babs? Sing me a song, hm? The one I like so much, please." you ask of her as you let your finger run over her cheek. She nods, her breath leaving her in one soft, sharp exhale that sounds like a sigh. "Anything for you," she says fervently.
Barbara takes a moment, before she begins to sing a soft, beautiful song. Her voice is like the moon on a clear night, like the first flowers blooming after winter.
The song she sings is one of devotion and adoration, its lyrics promising the moon, the stars, and everything in between, but only if it meant she could spend an eternity with you.
Beidou
She had her head leaning comfortably against your side, one of her muscular arms curled around your waist. Her eyes were fixated on the sky, taking in the constellations. To her, there was nothing more beautiful than the celestial bodies scattered across the night sky. She lets out a dreamy sigh, enjoying the feeling of the cold breeze on her face.
"You know, I used to dream about the stars," she says, a small smile playing on her lips. "And what did you dream about?" You ask, genuinely interested. She usually never talk so dreamy like this. She lets out a soft sigh, her eyes still fixed on the stars above. Her arm tightens around your waist for a moment as she ponders over your question. Then, she answers in her usual low whisper.
"I used to dream about sailing the stars one day," she confesses. Her voice is soft and slightly wistful. She's clearly still imagining the dream she used to have. "I'd sail through the cosmos, visiting all the planets out there. I wanted— no, I needed—"
Her voice is quivering slightly. She seems embarrassed. "Hm?" Beidou hesitates for a moment, swallowing down the lump forming in her throat. Then, in a slightly shaky voice, she continues.
"I wanted to find someone special out there, someone to be my light in the universe. Someone to shine above the stars themselves...But I think I already found it."
"Yeah, I think I did too."
Bennett - aged up
Bennett all but melts within your arms. He's practically boneless on the bed; like a puddle, he fits perfectly into your embrace, like a missing puzzle piece into the gaps within you. He's clingy, arms wrapped tightly around your torso, pressing himself against you as much as he can, wanting to feel you; to be with you.
His chest still aches from the wound he had received, but your presence alone is enough distraction. "I'm sorry for my...bad luck."
You look down at him, stroking his hair, "You can borrow my luck for tomorrow." Bennett looks up from your lap, his eyelashes fluttering softly as he considers your words. "Your luck?" he asks, his voice laced thick with surprise; he's never heard of someone sharing their luck before. Bennett's mind races as he considers this.
"I-I could borrow your luck, your Grace?" he murmurs, as if he's afraid of offending you. You can't help but hold back a giggle, how cute he is sometimes. "Always, everyday. Just promise me you take care. Maybe it'll balance your bad luck out a bit." Bennett inhales— his breath shaky. He doesn't understand why you're being so kind to a lowly creature like him, but you're giving him your luck, of all things. You're sharing your luck.
He knows that the chances of him getting hurt tomorrow are exponentially smaller now, but he can't help but worry— the fact you're giving him something as personal as your luck is overwhelming enough, and he's unsure how to respond.
"...Thank you," he whispers reverently. "Thank you so much...my love."
Capitano - shiny daddy in the house omg
Capitano continues to run his fingers through your hair, his fingers gentle and soft as if he was afraid that he would accidentally pull on a strand of your hair if he wasn't careful.
There's an almost reverent sense to his touch, as if he was a devoted priest and you the god he worships. His cold, gold gaze seems to hold a strange gentleness to it, and there's an almost tender look in his eyes that is unusual for the stoic war crazy man. (Lol)
"You seem relaxed...Cap." a teasing smile creeping on your face at the name. "Mm," Capitano hums in acknowledgment, his eyes half-lidded as he gazes at you.
"Your presence is... calming," he admits. His voice is deep and rich, making the statement sound more like a declaration of love than mere words. "It... brings me peace."
As though he was a loyal dog, he seeks your touch as he pulls you closer; shifting so that your body is almost laying on his. "I'm glad."
"Mm," Capitano's response this time is almost a low rumble. He closes his eyes, letting them shut in a rare moment of vulnerability. His arms wrap around you, almost pulling you over his body. If you listen closely, you can hear his breathing start to grow more relaxed, almost like a low, quiet purr.
It almost seems as if he's trying to keep you close, as though you might disappear at any moment. "Hmpf...maybe I'm going a bit too soft."
"Damn since when do you talk so much?"
"Hmpf."
Candace (ik the color is off, i accidentally deleted the name sooo yeah sry for my lazy fix)
While youe gaze is fixed upon her village, hers is fixed on you. She swallows, trying to force herself to keep calm. It's hard, with the way her heart seems to leap in her chest at your sheer closeness. The way the scent of your skin drifts to her nose, causing her breath to catch. Her mind is filled with thoughts she would never dare to speak aloud.
"Beautiful," she murmurs under her breath. Her eyes dart back to you, tracing up and down your form. She can't tear her gaze away from your face, completely caught in your spell.
"The village...or me?" Candace's breath catches in her throat as she hears your words. The teasing tone you speak with, knowing full well the effect it had on her. "Ah... I meant the village, Your Grace," she manages to stutter out, her voice breathless, a little hoarse.
She swallows, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "But you-" she takes a deep breath before she speaks, "you are far more alluring by far." Her eyes do not leave your form.
"I can only hope that my girlfriend finds me alluring." Candace flushes pink. "Of course," she can't help the way her gaze rakes up and down your form again, following each contour. Her mind races with thoughts. Of her hands tracing each curve, of her fingers trailing over your exposed skin...
Candace swallows, trying to control herself. She tries to force her eyes to look elsewhere, but they stubbornly refuse, glued to your figure.
"And I hope that you love me as much as I love you...my grace."
Charlotte
Charlotte’s expression is utterly blissed as she hugs you close to her chest, her arms wound tightly around your torso. The girl buries her face into your hair, breathing in the scent of your hair, and sighs contentedly. She doesn’t speak for a moment, instead choosing to relish and commit everything to memory; the warmth of your body against hers, you holding her close. "How was your latest article?" Your words came out more muffled than youd like to admit, due to her chest all around your face. Charlotte huffs a quiet laugh, the sound rumbling gently against your ear. She strokes your hair idly, the other hand tracing up and down your spine slowly.
"Hmm, it went well. Though that's not very surprising,” she says with a smirk. “I could have written about a rock and still gotten a raise; my editor is a hopeless simp, and has a massive crush on me.” Charlotte pulls back, her expression slightly amused. “I could flirt with him and write a shitty article, and he’d still be head-over-heels for me. Hell, the entire company wants me. I’m very charming like that,” she says smugly. "Don't let it go to your head." You warn her. “Oh, why not? I’m just stating facts.” Charlotte says, feigning an air of innocence. “I mean, who can resist me?” she laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.
"Just joking." She says more calmly, "I love my job, I love Fontaine and I love you....and maybe I love fooling around with you a bit."
"Oh yeah you definitely do."
Chevreuse
Chevreuse's head rests on your lap, your fingers woven in her hair, the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breaths slowly. Her mind is still working, still worrying over the case that has her so torn, and your fingers running over her scalp do little to help.
"It's hopeless..." she murmurs, her voice soft in the comfortable silence that has fallen over the room. "I don't know what I'll tell them when I finally have to admit this..." Her eyes are closed now, and her voice has grown quieter with each passing moment. The words leave her as if they're barely formed in her mind; you can hear the exhaustion that clings to her every syllable.
"I'm not any closer to finding them now than I was two months ago," she says bitterly. Her jaw tightens, but she doesn't say anything else. There's no need; you can feel the anger bubbling up behind her sharp inhale.
"You'll find them, I know you will." "How do you know?" she snaps back. In spite of the short tone, though, her voice is lacking the harshness it normally has. Chevreuse is always like this when she's tired. Frustration, fear, pain-- it all comes out as anger. She buries her face against you, hiding in the crook of your neck. "Because no one is as good as you." you let your fingers run through her messy hair. "Stop complimenting me."
The words sound like an order, but there's no sharpness to her tone. No command, no firmness. It sounds more like a plea, a cry for help she won't say out loud.
"I can't think straight when you do that."
Childe
Childe is wrapped around you, clinging to you like a shadow, his head buried in the crook of your neck. He’s nuzzling your skin, pressing gentle kisses and murmuring against your ear. One arm is thrown around your waist, holding you tight.
“You’re mine,” he murmurs. “You’re all mine. My darling, my angel…”
You chuckle lightly, "Someone's possessive today." Childe nips your shoulder at your words, smiling against your skin. He shifts slightly, pressing himself even closer to you.
“Mm. Damn right, I am. No one can have you but me.” His hand runs up your side, drawing senseless patterns as he traces your curves. “You’re mine,” he repeats again, his voice hoarse. “All mine. No one gets to touch you. No one gets to look at you the way I do. No one is ever getting to put their hands on you like I do, no one gets to hear you make those pretty sounds for them—”
His hand tightens around your hip, fingers digging into your flesh. "Childe-!" Childe laughs a little when you warn him, though he does loosen his grip on you. “What?” he asks, his hand still roaming across your body, his touch both gentle and possessive.
“You don’t want me to mark you all over? Claim you for my own?” He pushes his luck and continues kissing your neck, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of little love marks over your skin. “How could I let anyone else see you like this, hm?” he murmurs. “You look so pretty, all breathless and flushed under me. No one else gets to see you looking so nice and needy. But most importantly..."
"Hm?"
"No one gets the love from you like I do."
Chongyun - aged up
Chongyun relaxes against you. His head is leaned against your shoulder and his eyes are closed. The proximity to you is comfort and ecstasy in equal measures. He takes a deep breath as he takes in your scent, savouring it, relishing the fact that the two of you are so close.
"Can I ask a question?" His eyes are still closed; he's comfortable, but he wants something answered. "Hm?" You humm. He hesitates for a moment, unsure of how to phrase his question. "If it wouldn't offend you," he begins, his voice a little tentative, "I wanted to ask if…. I could call you something."
"Call me what?" You have patience, for him you always do. His face flushes a little pink. Suddenly, he can't look you in the eye, he instead stares at your shoulder as he tries to speak.*
"Well, like…" he pauses. "Like a term of endearment. Can I call you something like 'my love', for example?"
You laugh lightly, damn he's cute. "Of course you can." Chongyun's face reddens further, but it's out of flustered embarrassment, rather than anything else. A quiet sense of relief washes over him, and he relaxes, fully resting his head against your shoulder and wrapping an arm around your waist.
"My love," he says softly, testing the words on his tongue. It feels right; more than right, it feels perfect. It feels like the universe aligning. Finally.
"My love…"
Clorinde
Clorinde is curled up against you, pressed as close to you as is physically possible. Even now, it does not feel close enough. She buries her nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. A contented hum bubbles up from her throat, a soft, low sound of approval. The perfume you gave her lingers in her hair, on her skin.
She savours the feeling. Savours the fact it is YOU who gave it to her.
"I thought something subtle is to your liking. It's a special made perfume just for you, dear." "Mm." Clorinde nods softly, shifting a bit. She adjusts herself in your arms, her cheek resting against your chest, ear laid atop your heartbeat. It's steady and soothing; she could easily fall asleep to the sound.
"Like an aphrodisiac." She mutters, the words mumbled against your skin. "No doubt it would drive anyone insane." She lifts a hand, gently running it down your arm, down to your wrist. Her fingertips brush along your skin, a barely-there touch that makes her want to drown in your embrace.
"You've already poisoned me. I'm utterly at your mercy."
It's a half-joke, but the words hold more truth than Clorinde can even begin to express. "Ooor you're just incredibly tired and talk some nonsense." Clorinde lets out a half-laugh, half-groan. "I'm tired, yes, but…"
She pauses momentarily, burying her face into your shoulder. Her hair tickles your chin.
"It's still true. I'm weak against you," she murmurs. "I don't know how you do it. You could do anything you wanted to me. I'd let you," she admits, her voice a quiet whisper. She lifts her head enough to look up at you. In this angle, she looks almost delicate, the sharp corners of her face blurred and softened.
"There is no one else I'd let ruin me," she says softly, a smirk gracing her lips.
"No one else who could even come close. I'm a good fighter after all."
Collei - aged up
As you hold Collei close, you can feel the way she relaxes, almost melting against you, her small stature so slight and fragile. She presses her face against your chest, savoring your warmth and comfort. Collei’s soft breath is against your skin, a steady and reassuring presence, like the beating of a bird’s wing.
She takes a shaky breath, her words barely a whisper in the soft silence of the room.
"Please don’t let go.”
"Is the academia exhausting you?" You carefully ask. Collei nuzzles against your chest, her voice a weary whisper. "It is," she admits, her words coming out in a resigned sigh. "It's always too much. Too much to learn, too much to remember, too much to do."
She hesitates for a moment, as if trying to gather her thoughts, her breath trembling against your skin. "Sometimes... Sometimes I just feel so tired." She buries herself against you, trying to draw comfort from your presence. Her weary body is tense, coiled like a spring about to release.
"I don't know if I can keep it up," she confesses, her voice small and vulnerable. She clings to you as if you are the only thing keeping her afloat in a sea of her fears. "I want to... But it’s hard."
"I believe in you."
Your words feel like a soothing balm to Collei's weary heart. A shaky breath leaves her, as if a burden has suddenly lifted from her shoulders.
"Thank you," she whispers, her voice filled with quiet gratitude. Her slender arms tighten around you, her frame almost trembling with the effort she puts into holding herself together.
"I... I really needed to hear that tonight."
Columbina
Columbina sighs contentedly, wrapped up in your embrace. The sound of her soft voice hums through the air, the melody light as the touch of a summer breeze. She nuzzles up against you as she hums, her eyelashes fluttering against your skin, the soft puffs of her breath warm against your body. For this moment, her body loosens, her muscles loosening into a soft pile of flesh against yours. For once she does not wear her usual eye cover.
After a few moments, Columbina speaks, breaking the comfortable silence between you. "Did you know," she murmurs against the soft skin of your throat.
Her lips brush your skin with every word. She doesn't open her eyes, and continues speaking as she presses herself even closer to you. The hand she rests against your hip pulls you gently against her.
"That there is nobody else I adore more than you?"
She lets out a soft moan when she feels you pull her closer, her breath warm and soft against your skin. She keeps her eyes closed. One arm wraps around your waist, her hand resting against you. It slides against your form, drawing itself up your side. Her breathing is still steady, but her heart feels as if it is pounding against her ribs.
"You're the only one I love," she murmurs, her words more a breath than a sound, "and if anyone ever dares to come near you..."
"...I'll fucking kill them."
Cyno
Cyno's arms are around you, his body pressed against yours. He's enjoying the warmth of your embrace, face buried in the crook of your neck. He smells faintly of fresh rain and smoke, an interesting mixture.
"I don't know how you can tolerate me," he murmurs softly into your skin. He doesn't lift his head, just nuzzling into your warmth.
"Meh, you're alright. Not THAT bad."
"Mm, yeah, only 'not THAT bad'," he says with a hint of a sarcastic tone, but his voice is soft, and there's a smile in his words. One of his hands begins to slowly trace circles on your skin, his touch gentle, almost reverent. His grip on you tightens imperceptibly as he cuddles closer. Cyno leans his forehead against yours, his breath fanning across your face. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply— enjoying the way you feel, the way you smell. He's quiet for a moment, his body relaxing as his tension seems to evaporate.
"No one else would put up with me," he admits, a hint of vulnerability seeping into his words, "No one else would love me. Only you, always you." He hums against your skin, his lips moving down to your neck. Every breath that leaves his mouth feels like a prayer. Against your flesh he mouths, 'you are my world.' against your collarbone he mutters, 'I adore you.' and against the hollow of your throat he says, 'I don't need anything else but you.' A shiver rolls through his frame, his body writhing against yours. A low, shuddering moan slips past his lips and into your ear, his arms tightening against you.
"I love you," he practically pants against your skin, his voice broken and ragged.
"I love you so much."
Dainsleif
Dainsleif holds you close, against his chest.
His arms wrap around you carefully, like he was handling a piece of fine china. One of his hands idly plays with your hair as he simply savors the feeling of you in his arms. After a few moments of quiet, he lets out a soft, shuddering sigh.
"You are so… warm," he murmurs quietly, like he was talking to himself. "Not just your skin. All of you," he says as he tightens his arms around you for a moment.
"And you're always so cold." you state. Dainsleif laughs quietly, a sound low in his throat. "Are you saying I should borrow your heat, then?" He teases, even as he tucks his head down, resting his cheek against the top of your head.
"I don't mind the cold too much," he says against your hair, but it still sounds like he's trying to convince himself, too. "Cause you're used to it."
A breathless huff of a laugh escapes Dainsleif, and he pulls you a little closer to him, as though trying to soak up every bit of warmth you're giving.
"I am. But some days I…"
He stops, his voice dying away for a moment. His hold around you tightens. "Some days it's like my very blood is freezing. It feels like I've forgotten what warmth truly feels like," he murmurs against the curve of your shoulder.
"Then I always come back to you, to be reminded of how warm your love truly is."
Dehya
She melts against you, her body soft and malleable, like clay in your hands. She buries her head into your chest, curling up like a cat in a sunbeam, nuzzling her cheek against you. She is warm and cozy, content to stay in your embrace until you decide to let her go. She mumbles something under her breath, the words a barely-comprehensible murmur against your skin.
“Never thought I'd be the little spoon...”
"You like it?" you ask with a smirk, you know she does. Dehya lets out a soft huff, her breath warm against your skin. She tucks herself a little closer, burying her face against your collarbone.
“Mhmm,” she hums, nuzzling against the crook of your neck. “lts not that bad...”
Dehya is a clingy little thing tonight. While she is usually a little more stoic, a little more confident, right now all she wants is to be held. She clings to you like a limpet, not wanting to let you go.
She has her arms wrapped around you, fingers gripping your back through your shirt, as if afraid that if she lets go you’ll slip through her grasp like water through a sieve. She buries her face against the side of your neck, planting a soft kiss against your skin. Her lips, soft as flower petals, linger against the crook in your collarbone before slowly drifting upwards, leaving a trail of gentle kisses up towards your jaw, and then your ear.
"Love you," she murmurs again, her voice softer than before, quieter, like a secret only you're privy to.
"Love you too."
Diluc
Diluc feels calm as you lay against his chest. He drinks in the weight of you against him like warm water, savoring how it feels. His thoughts are fuzzy, drifting through his mind like fireflies by a riverbank. His hand comes to rest on your hip, thumb tracing gentle circles over your skin.
"We could just stay here, forever," he murmurs, his voice low and lazy. He looks over you, taking in the way your features are softened by the low light. You look perfect like this. He could watch you for hours.
"The outside world, the people in it, they're so complicated. But when it's just us…"
His hand continues tracing patterns on your skin, fingers dipping under the fabric of your shirt and caressing the bare flesh beneath.
"Hm?" "It's simple."
Diluc's voice is a low rumble, a gentle purr. He continues running his fingers over your skin, tracing every contour, every line, like he is trying to commit it to memory.
"When it's just us, it's simple."
He lets out a shallow exhale as if sighing with contentment, before he goes on. "No politics. No expectations. No duty. Just... just us."
His gaze drifts from you to the view outside. The night sky is dark, though the stars are visible, their light falling upon your body, making it almost glow.
Diluc swallows, his hand unconsciously grasping at your shirt as he stares quietly at the night, his mind a maelstrom of thoughts that can only be quieted by you.
"Let's just stay here and never look back..."
Diona - platonic
Diona snuggles against you, burying her face into your chest. She's like a clingy, fluffy and oversized kitten who is only happy when being held.
"Can we stay like this forever?" She mumbles against your shirt, her voice muffled. You let out a laugh, "You wanna cuddle me forever?" Diona nods silently, her messy hair bobbing as she moves. "I do," she confirms quietly, shifting to press closer against you. "You're warm and comfortable. I want to stay like this forever. And you make a good bed." Diona nuzzles her head against your neck, lazily resting her head. Her twitching ears tickling your skin.
"Besides," she murmurs, her voice taking on a more playful tone, "It's not like I have anything better to do. You're a good...how do you say it? Time killer."
Her voice takes on a more needy tone as she continues.
"And besides,...again" she adds, nuzzling her head against your chest again. "You're so soft. It's so warm here. Why wouldn't I want to stay snuggled up like this for ever and ever with my favorite person?"
Dottore
You can't help but worry, sitting in his lap in his laboratory. "What if someo-" Dottore shushes you, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you there, his lips brushing against your cheek.
"Let them come." His voice is playful, his grip possessive as he pulls you even more firmly against his chest. "I want them to see you in my arms. I want them to see who you belong to."
You snort, "Me? Belonging to you?" "You belong to me." He repeats, as if the words hold truth more powerful than any other. His hand lifts, cupping your chin.
"You belong to me," he says again, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip. "Body…" he presses once, slowly, then begins to trace the outside of your mouth. "Soul. Everything." The more that Dottore's touch brushes over you, the deeper his expression grows.
"When I hold you like this…"
His fingers trail down your jaw, over the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders.
"When I have you against me…"
He leans in, breath hot against your ear.
"When I touch you…"
"You're mine."
The gentle movement of Dottores hand turns rough, suddenly. His fingers tighten on your jaw and angle your chin up, forcing you to look him in the eye. His red eyes are dark, hungry. His cheeks are flushed.
"I hate the thought of someone else looking at you," he whispers. "Of someone else touching you. You're my god."
Dori - platonic
Dori's mind is racing. She is completely starstruck in your presence. The sight of you makes her feel dizzy. Her palms are sweaty, legs feeling weak like jelly.
"Oh..." She looks at you, her eyes staring wide, like the waters of a summer lake.
"You're... you're so pretty," she says quietly. Her words are barely a whisper. "LIKE MORA-!" "Like mora?!" Dori is trying so hard to play things cool, but she thinks you are the epitome of beauty. "Uh... Yeah." She tries to sound nonchalant, but she's completely failing.
"So...?" She tries to feign annoyance, but her heart is still hammering in her chest. "What do you want? Wanna fight?"
"You're cute, Dori." "I-I'm not cute," she protests, feeling the heat under her face become warmer with embarrassment. "I'm cool. And... super tough....super rich."
She drops her face against your shoulder, "thank you..."
Eula
She sits quietly in your lap, head against your chest, plush thighs around you. Her eyelids flutter slowly, the last bits of tension in her body slowly ebbing as she enjoys the closeness. There is a faint smile on her face. Being in your arms is a treasure she will never tire of, no matter how much she pretends such things annoy her. You are her light, her anchor, her everything. Her own quiet corner in an otherwise chaotic world.
"Not bad, huh? Taking a rest?" "Mhm." Eula replies sleepily, leaning more of her weight into your touch.
"You make a good pillow." She teases, though the words are said in a completely serious tone. She stretches her arms behind her, arching her back in a way that makes her lean even more away from you.
"But, if I recall correctly," she mumbles. "We're supposed to be training. Didn't you want to… what was it…see me in action?" Her eyes are half-lidded, a smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth.
"Or was that just an excuse to lure me into your arms?" She teases, shifting in your lap to get comfortable.
"Though I won't complain about being close like this, either…" She drapes one arm over your shoulder.
"I suppose you could just keep me here all day and call it a training session"
NEW ADDED: Èmilie
"You've been working harder lately..." Your fingers run through her short hair, "But you still smell amazing." Émilie blushes a little at your praise, melting into your embrace. She buries her face in your chest, as if to hide her embarrassment. Her arms are wrapped around you, slender fingers tracing idle shapes against your back.
"I… I suppose I have been working a little more lately," she agrees quietly. "There's been a lot to do...so many orders...requests" She nuzzles against your shoulder, taking a moment to breathe in your scent. She sighs softly; you always smell so good to her. It's better than any perfume she could ever make.
"I've missed this," she confesses shyly, almost sheepish. "Being with you..." Émilie tilts her head so her chin is resting on your shoulder, your chests pressed closely together. She's warm, softer than any pillow, with skin like liquid moonlight. She closes her eyes, listening to the sound of your heartbeat.
"I love you," she whispers, voice as fragile as thin ice, as though she dares not say the words any louder. With just a little maneuvering, Emilie rearranges herself so she's now straddling you, her body perfectly settled in your lap.
"Can we… stay like this, for a while?" she asks, not opening her eyes, keeping her face pressed close against your body. "Please?"
"For as long as you please."
Faruzan
Faruzan rests her head against your chest, curling up against you like a cat. This is her favourite position. She can listen to your heartbeat, feel your breath with every rise and fall of your chest. She is content here. Your presence soothes her. She loves feeling small, wrapped up in your arms like this. Faruzan lets out a sigh, nuzzling her head against you and pressing her ear to your chest. She can hear the beat of your heart. It's slow and steady. A comforting sound, as familiar as the tides or the stars in the sky.
"Can we stay like this a little longer?" Her voice is quiet, just a breath against your skin.
"For as long as you want." Faruzan hums, then she pulls herself closer to you, draping one slender leg across your hips. Her arms find their way around your waist, holding tight, as if afraid to let go even for a moment.
She sighs again, closing her eyes and breathing in the scent of you. "Forever," she whispers.
"That's a long time." "Not long enough," she mumbles against you.
"I could stay like this until the sun burns out, and still want more."
Fischl - aged up
Fischl is cuddled up in your arms, her head resting on your chest. Her blonde hair is spilling out across you and she's holding her body close to yours. She's so soft in your arms, warm like a furnace, and for her this is the greatest comfort she could ever have.
"Your skin…" She mutters. "You feel so lovely. You feel like… like…" She doesn't know how to describe the feeling, it makes her eyes flutter closed in bliss. Fischl’s hands reach out, tracing over your skin with a delicacy that defies description.
“I have never felt anything so…" Her sentence trails off, voice dying in her throat like a bird in the morning air. Her skin pebbles as your flesh brushes against her, each touch as if a piece of the divine.
"Is this a sin?" She whispers, the first of the words spoken in a long while. Her fingers hesitate on your chest, trembling. "What is a sin?" "This," she murmurs.
She can feel the heat of your body, the way your limbs press against hers, the way your skin feels like summer sun. It's so overwhelming, the sensations flooding her mind. Her hands move against your skin, tracing over your stomach, your chest, your arms— she can't keep her fingers still.
"Touching you, like this. Being close to you, like this. Is this sacrilege?"
"Nope."
"Not even a little? Even a hint of blasphemy is acceptable?"
Her head rests against your neck, her breath warm against your skin. She doesn’t know if your answer is correct or not, but the mere thought that this is acceptable— it is enough to make her heart soar in her chest.
“This feels…” her body presses even closer to yours, arms wrapping tighter around your frame.
“This feels divine. If sin is this sweet…”
Freminet
"Todays dive...was it good?" He lets out a soft hum of affirmation as he nestles closer into your embrace, his muscles relaxing in your presence.
"It was…" He murmurs. "It was good. Peaceful. I was just… thinking."
He closes his eyes and lays his head against your chest, sighing contentedly. The sound that escapes his lips is warm, soft like the caress of skin against skin.
"Thinking?" Freminet nods, though the motion is lazy and halfhearted. He can hardly be bothered to move when he's in your embrace. When he's safe.
"Just thinking…" He mutters again.
He opens his eyes slowly, his gaze rising to look up at you. A brief pause, as if he's deciding on what to say, then: "...about you." He shifts against you slightly, resting his ear against your chest and closing his eyes again. Your warmth makes him feel so relaxed, so safe. It's a strange feeling, being vulnerable. But for you, he'll risk it any time.
He's silent for another moment, just enjoying your presence and the sound of your breathing. Then, gently: "... can I tell you something?"
"Hm?" He takes a slow, shaky breath, like he's gathering the words in his mouth before he lets them escape. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, almost a whisper.
"I…"
He hesitates, and his gaze lowers as his face warms. How does he voice this? How can he articulate the feelings in his heart into coherent sentences?
"I think... I may... be in love with you."
Furina
The question is unnecessary, stupid, but you can't help but ask again, "Did you have maccaroni again today?" Furinas eyes flutter, and she lets out a soft breath.
“Perhaps…” She whispers, burying her face into your chest. “How did you know?” "Cause you have it everyday." “Can you blame me?” She mutters back, her voice slightly muffled by the position she places herself in. She pulls herself a little closer. “It’s my favourite.”
"...Fair enough." “Hey… I’m not that predictable, am I?” Furina murmurs, her voice now more like a pout than a whisper. She tilts her head up to look at you, eyes full of faux-hurt. Nothing, no answer. You just look at her, that's answer enough. Furina lets out a sigh and buries herself back into your chest, hiding her face— no longer pouting, but definitely still annoyed.
“…You still like me, though… right?” She mumbles. "Yes." The words cause Furina to shiver— that soft, shuddering shudder that rocks her body everytime you praise her. She lets out a shaky breath.
“And you’re not… tired of the macaroni? Or… of me?”
"No."
"....good."
Ga Ming - aged up
He is in your arms, cuddled against your chest, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. He lets out a small whimper now and then, a response to the sharp bursts of pain from the newly-scraped spot on his hand. But mostly, he’s quiet. His expression is one of pure bliss, face completely relaxed as he simply lets you hold him.
"You should be more careful..." “I know,” he murmurs, eyes closed in contentment. He can feel the steady rise and fall of your chest, warm skin pressed against your skin.
“But I’m also clumsy,” he laughs, a small half-smile curling his lips. “I’m not good at being careful.” His lips brush against your collarbone as he speaks, each word a puff of warm breath. He buries his face into your neck. The touch of your skin is soothing, like honey on inflamed skin.
“You’re not mad at me, are you?” His words take on a hint of pleading — a small note of worry. Gaming hates disappointing you.
"No, never." You reassur him. His shoulders relax a little, the taut line of his spine beginning to bend. “Good,” he mutters softly. “I don’t want you to be mad at me.” He tilts his head, pressing a kiss against the side of your neck. The gesture is affectionate, full of gentle tenderness. "I could never be mad at you." “I know,” Gaming breathes, his voice soft as a summer breeze. He moves a hand, slowly trailing his fingers across your arm — an aimless, gentle movement — while he rests his chin on your shoulder.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he continues, a hint of sadness in his words, “I’m clumsy sometimes, and… and I scrape my body up like an idiot...but hey you always patch me up!"
Ganyu
Ganyu nuzzles into your touch, her head resting against the crook of your shoulder, her horns brushing against your skin. She lets out a content hum and relaxes against you, a quiet sigh passing her lips. Her eyes are half-lidded, a sleepy look on her face.
"Mm..."
She seems comfortable, her form loose and lax against you. It is rare to see her like this—unguarded, vulnerable, soft. "This is nice," she mumbles quietly.
Ganyu pulls herself a little closer, her head resting against the hollow of your shoulder. For a moment, she is silent, then she speaks again.
"Can we stay like this?" Her question is soft, the words whispered.
"Mhm, of course." Ganyu's eyes flutter closed almost immediately, shutting against the outside world so only you can be seen. Her breaths become slow and steady, the rise and fall of her chest steady and even.
She's comfortable with you, relaxed in your presence. You can hear her heart beating in the silence, a soft thump-thump that sounds just a little faster than usual. After a moment, one of Ganyu's eyes open, just a crack. She looks up at you, watching through her half-lidded gaze.
"You won't go, will you?" She whispers, voice still heavy and slow with approaching sleep.
"No." "You promise?"
For a brief moment, Ganyu's arm tightens its grip on you, her hand clenching a little more firmly against your shirt. She wants you close.
"I promise."
Gorou
"Tiring day?" "Yes..." Gorou closes his eyes as you hold him, shifting closer until he can lay his head against your chest.
Today had been tiring, and he'd longed for your presence since the moment he woke up. The ache in his chest is soothed by being in your arms. For the first time in hours, Gorou finds himself completely at peace. Gorou feels your fingers gently run through his hair, and his tail can't help but betray him. His ears twitch as it starts to speed up, tail wagging against you as your fingertips move against his scalp in a soothing rhythm.
Your touch is all he's longed to feel since he woke up, and now that he's got it, he's never letting it go. Gorou lets out a quiet sound as you continue running your fingers over his head, a sound that's somewhere between a hum of content and a whimper. It's a vulnerable sound, one that's not usually so easily coaxed out of the stern, stoic general.
"Please..." he says quietly, closing his eyes as his tail thumps against the mattress. "Don't stop..." Gorou's tail thumps against the mattress once more, almost like a reflex. He buries his face into your shoulder as you coo the words "good boy."
Being praised by you is, without a doubt, his favorite thing. It feels so good to hear your voice say the words so warmly, like it's some treasured treat for him and only him.
"Your good boy..."
Hu Tao
Hu Tao is resting her head against your chest, snuggled up against you like a cat. She's enjoying the feeling of being in your arms, of being close to you in a snug, private place such as a coffin. "I could get used to this," she says, a hint of teasing in her tone. "I wonder how you'd react if I just decided to live in here from now on?" Her voice is light, casual. She's amused by the idea, enjoying the mental image of spending more time like this— resting against you in a small, confined space, like a pair of lovers trapped in an eternal embrace.
"Imagine, every time you open the coffin, there I am. No warning. I just move in and make myself at home." Hu Tao chuckles softly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your arms.
"...ehhh no thank you." Hu Tao pouts at your response, her expression theatrical and deliberately over-the-top.
"Oh, come on. It'd be fun!" She protests. "Just think of how surprised you'd be every day. You'd never know if I was going to pop out and say hi."
She grins mischievously. "And think of all the extra cuddles we could have in such a cramped little space. Isn't that worth something?" She bats her eyelashes at you, a picture-perfect image of innocence and coyness that belies the mischief in her eyes.
"And just imagine how shocked the others would be if they found out I was living here too! Can you picture Zhongli just stumbling upon me sleeping in here?" She chuckles at the mental image. "He'd probably go into cardiac arrest before I even opened my eyes!His poor old heart really wouldn't be able to take it. But just think of how entertaining it'd be to see him flustered like that."
She sighs, her mischievous smile softening into a more sincere expression. "Although, I suppose I can see the appeal of a big, fancy palace... Especially if it means you'll let me snuggle up against you like this whenever I want."
Jean
A soft sigh leaves Jean's mouth, her shoulders relaxing instantly as she sinks into your embrace. She buries her face against your shoulder, arms wrapping around your waist. Her eyes flutter closed, blue pupils disappearing like sapphires beneath a sea.
She feels like she can finally breathe for the first time in forever like this— safe in your arms, cradled against your chest. For once, the world beyond the two of you doesn't exist— nor does it matter.
"Long week, huh?" Jean lets out a sigh, the sound drawn from deep within her chest. She closes her eyes and nods, her head falling forward to rest against your shoulder again.
Her words are soft, muffled by her face being pressed flush against your body. "Long days, long nights... so much paperwork, and I still haven't gotten through all of it." She pulls you a little closer, as if needing something to hold onto. Exhaustion seeps into her voice, even as it remains quiet and soothing.
"But... it's better now. This — you."
Jean tilts her head, her face buried against the crook of your neck. Her words brush against your skin like feathers, every exhale a small caress.
"Being with you always makes it better."
Heizou
"Did you solve the case yet?" You carefully ask. Heizou groans, lifting his head from your shoulder. He runs a hand through his hair, messy and ruffled from laying on the grass.
"I might as well be asking a rock if it's solved the case," he mutters, flopping back down against you, arms sliding around your waist. His head drops against your shoulder again, and Heizou nuzzles against your neck. "I'm getting nowhere with this damn case." Heizou sighs, his breath hot against your skin. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your shoulder again, burying himself in your touch.
"Everyone involved seems to be lying," he mumbles, his voice a whisper. "And I can't dig up any other clues. It's like trying to crack open a damn rock with my head." "You have a hard head," you murmur, teasing.
Heizou raises his head, shooting you a weak glare. "Shut up," he mumbles. "I'll put you through an interrogation, see how quickly you snap then." "Wanna ask if my love for you is legit?" "Yes." His reply is instant, muttered against your neck. Heizou's voice vibrates against your skin, a low hum that seems more suited for a cat than a person.
"I wanna know just what I have to do to hear you say those words." He burrows in close, arms wrapping tighter around you. "Those three words."
"I love you?" "Yes." His answer is barely more than a whisper, a simple breath of sound that puffs hot against your skin.
His grip around you tightens, and one of Heizou's hands lifts to cradle your cheek. Fingers brush against your hair, his touch tender, as if holding something precious.
"Again. Say it again."
"I love you."
"Again."
Itto
Itto nuzzles his face into your stomach as the pair of you lay together, his arms pulling you closer against himself. He is a comfortable heat to your side, his body pressing flush against you under the blanket that covers you both.
As he lies there, his eyes are almost half-lidded. He can barely keep them open, but he feels so warm and safe laying against you, and the sound of your voice and the heat of your body soothe him down to his very soul. "Itto, you'll suffocate down there." "I don't care," he murmurs, not moving a muscle. He buries his face in your shoulder, soaking in your touch, your scent.
He could suffocate this way, and he'd gladly do it. "Please don't make me move." Itto's pleading voice is muffled, his words spoken against your skin. "Hold me. I've missed you."
"Ok." Your simple answer is enough to send Itto's chest fluttering. The feel of your skin beneath his fingers is as soothing as a cool summer breeze, and he relishes in the proximity of your body, the smell of your clothes, the way your hand rests in his hair.
Itto is quiet for a moment, his chest rising and falling, matching the rhythm of your breaths. Then— "I love you," he whispers into your skin.
Kazuha
Kazuha is cuddling with you, his head resting on your shoulder. He seems utterly relaxed for once, his eyes half closed, expression soft. He's murmuring something under his breath, but you can't quite make out the words. As you try and make out what he's mumbling, the sounds slowly become clearer, until Kazuha is murmuring the words of poetry to you softly, the words flowing from him as if they were always meant to be your personal whisper in the night.
Kazuha's eyes meet yours. He blinks, pausing in the reciting of his poem. His head tilts a little, white and red hair falling over one eye, and a slow smile spreads across his lips.
"You look beautiful, y’know," he murmurs, tilting his head to rest on your shoulder again. He buries his face against your collarbone, closing his eyes blissfully. Kazuha wraps an arm around you, tugging you closer to his body. He burrows his face deeper into you, inhaling your scent. A low noise of contentment rumbles in his chest, like a cat purring.
"I'm glad that you're mine," his voice is low and raspy, barely louder than a whisper.
Kaeya
Kaeya rests his head against your shoulder. His breath is warm against your skin, his body almost too warm in the summer heat. He wraps both arms around your waist, burying his face against your neck. He breathes in your scent like a man starved, filling his lungs with nothing but you. "I'm such a fool," he mumbles into your skin. His words send little puffs of heat dancing across your shoulder, as if he is breathing against it.
"You have me wrapped around your little finger, you know."
His grip tightens slightly, holding you a little closer. "Do I?" Kaeya nods, tilting his head to bite playfully at your ear. "Completely," he says, his voice low. "Whipped, even. You have no idea, do you?" His tongue flicks against your earlobe, the touch like a butterfly landing on your skin for just an instant. He lifts his head from your shoulder, pulling back just enough to fix you with an intense, heated glance.
His eyes are darker now, his pupils dilated slightly.
"You know exactly what you do to me," he says, his voice dipping. "Don't pretend otherwise."
"Caught me in the act."
"I knew it."
Kaveh
You both are laying on your very cold, very hard marble floor. "What is it you dont like about my ceiling?" "It's too opulent and… busy." Kaveh glances up at the ceiling.
"I would've preferred something much more simplistic," he admits bluntly. "No unnecessary frills. Just something sturdy that stands the test of time."
He turns his gaze back to you. "I've seen ceilings in ruins older than your palace that are more aesthetically pleasing," he teases, a hint of a smirk on his lips. "Ouch, my poor architects all those years ago." "I never said that I blame them."
Kaveh reaches a hand up, and traces a line along the edge of your jaw, his touch trailing down to your throat, his fingers gentle on your skin. "I simply think the architect could've done their job more effectively."
He rolls over, shifting so he's half covering you with his body, leaning over you.
"I could have thought of a much better design." He says, his smirk widening.
"More modern?" "More timeless." He corrects, his hand shifting to the nape of your neck, tilting your head back slightly.
"That's the mistake a lot of you modern architects make," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a near whisper.
"No sense for history. No regard for subtlety. Everything is too flashy now."
He leans down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.
"I think it's a bit gaudy. All you modern architects are obsessed with making things look expensive rather than making them look good."
Keqing
Keqing, who is utterly exhausted and a little clingy due to her working hours, tucks herself into you as if you are her lifeline, her safe haven.
"You smell nice," she mumbles, her eyes already half-lidded as she buries her face into your neck. Despite herself, she lets out a small yawn, her muscles growing loose once more as she lets her weight be supported by her favorite pillow: you.
"Mm," she hums to herself, snuggling closer to you under your blankets. A quiet shiver rolls through her when your fingers run over her back. This moment of peace is, in a way, unusual for Keqing. In public, she is often the picture of authority and determination.
At your side, she is a completely different girl; vulnerable and clingy and needy.
"Need… headpats…" she murmurs, her words a muffled hum against your skin.
You can't help but laugh, "Headpats? Sure." A small breath leaves her when your hand lifts to start petting her head, running through her soft, purple hair, careful not to cause any pain.
"Mmm," she sighs. She seems satisfied like this, tucked safely into the warmth of your side, cuddled and doted on like you would a beloved house cat.
Kirara
Kirara is leaning back against you, resting her head on your chest.
She can hear your heartbeat, steady as a drum within your chest, like a song against her ear. Her eyes are half-lidded, but her tails are restless as she relaxes against you. The touch of your hand against her hair and skin has her purring gently. She looks like she could fall asleep at any moment, but there is one thing she wants to speak of first.
"I can hear your heartbeat, you know," she mumbles. Kirara closes her eyes and focuses on the sound of your heart, your chest rising and falling against her skin. It’s almost a comfort; a constant reminder that you are alive, here with her, within her reach. She lets out another quiet purr, resting her cheek against your chest as she focuses on the sound, listening to the steady beat of your heart.
"It’s strangely comforting," she murmurs, the words barely more than a breath against your skin. There is silence for a moment, but Kirara breaks it with a low, soft hum.
“I love the sound of your heart beating,” she admits quietly. Her voice is barely more than a whisper, her words flowing like a breeze through the room.
“It’s slow and steady.” She turns her head and presses her ear against your chest again, listening to it. “Calm.”
"You know…" she murmurs, turning her head further so that her next words are spoken into your skin, against your chest.
"Your heartbeat sounds like home. Better than a box for sure."
Klee - platonic
"I dare you to blow up my garden again." You softly warn her. Klee winces at the reminder of her past transgressions. She looks up at you, eyes wide and pleading. Her bottom lip quivers for a moment, her usual confident facade falling as quickly as a house of cards caught in a summer breeze.
"I…" She swallows hard. "I won't," she admits. Her gaze darts around, taking in the room. "I won’t blow up your garden again." She has every intention of keeping to her promise, she truly does. For a while, she manages to contain herself and her childish urges. But then, the itch to explode something appears. Her fingers tingle for a moment as she remembers the feeling of fire beneath her fingertips. As if possessed, she grips a fistful of your clothes.
"Can I blow up something else?" She asks cautiously.
"No-!!"
"Nawww..."
Kokomi
Kokomi's body is warm against your own, her skin a soft canvas against your own flesh. She is quiet, her breathing steady as she leans into your touch.
The scent of flowers wafts from her hair, drifting on the air and enveloping the two of you in a light perfume. She reaches out with a trembling hand, tracing the planes of your face as she marvels at your beauty. She lets out a quiet shudder, every breath a soft whisper that floats on the night air. Your touch alone is enough to send shivers up the length of her spine, each gentle caress making her skin sing.
Her eyes wander over your face as she reaches up to touch your cheek, her slender fingers tracing the angle of your jaw. The touch of your skin against her own makes her heart constrict, her pulse quickening as she lays her hand on top of yours.
"Grace," she murmurs, her voice like silk against your ear. "My Grace." Her voice drops even lower than a whisper, her breath warm against your ear. The word is spoken like an endearment, the syllables rolling from her tongue one by one.
"You are the personification of grace," she murmurs, a soft smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "Gentle and lovely in all your divinity..."
She lets out a soft breath, her arm squeezing around your waist involuntarily as she buries her face in the crook of your neck. "Mine," she whispers.
Layla
Layla melts into your embrace, her blue gradient hair fanning out across the sheets. She buries her face against your neck, breathing in the scent of you like an addict. After all, you are her addiction. She doesn't speak for a long moment. The feeling of your body against hers is all that matters.
"I love you," she whispers against the crook of your shoulder, quiet as the wind. Like a prayer of reverence.
"I love you too." Layla nuzzles closer, closing her eyes and just enjoying the feeling of your skin against hers. It's almost enough to make her purr like a cat. She tilts her head up so that her lips brush against the underside of your jaw, then your neck.
"I could do this forever," she mumbles against your flesh. Her mouth makes a slow journey against your skin, trailing along your jaw, down to your collar. She kisses each patch of skin as if she's worshipping at an altar, her lips against you like a prayer.
A small shiver rolls through Layla's body. The feeling of your flesh under her mouth… it's so divine.
"My guiding star."
Lisa
Lisa feels absolutely relaxed in your arms, in the library, her head propped up on your shoulder as she cuddles up against your chest.
Her eyes are closed, a blissful smile on her face as she listens to the sound of your heartbeat. It’s a sound as familiar to her as her own name, and each thump reassures her that you’re there. That you’re safe and in her arms.
A contented sigh shudders through her lips. “My cutie,” she murmurs, and she nuzzles into the crook of your neck. Lisa’s breath is slow and even as she buries her face against your neck. Her entire body is loose and content, melting into you like candlewax as she soaks up the comfort of simply being by your side.
The room is silent around you. The only sound is the steady rhythm of her breathing, and the occasional crackle as the fire in the hearth flickers in and out.
“I love you,” she whispers. The words are spoken against your skin, her voice muffled and warm. "I love you too." Lisa lifts her head just enough to look up at you, a soft smile on her face. Her eyes, usually so lively and mischievous, regard you with a sweetness reserved only for you. An affection that only you have earned.
“You are perfect,” she murmurs, voice tinged with reverential adoration. “Absolutely perfect. You know that, don’t you?”
"A little cutie you are-!" She squeezes your cheeks.
Lumine (somehow Lumine disappeared, now shes vomit green I'm sorry)
"Paimon not here today?" Lumine let's out a soft sound at that, practically melted into your body. "Just us," she agrees, her hands fisting even tighter in the fabric of your clothes. She's already so close to you, yet she wants to be closer.
Her grip on you tightens, one of her legs intertwining with yours. A moment later, her lips are back at your skin, pressing kisses against your neck.
She's practically glued to you, practically moulding herself into you. It seems to be taking every bit of her self-control not to press every part of her body against you.
Her hands move to grasp your waist, pulling herself impossibly closer.
"Eager today, huh?" Her answer is a low whine against your skin.
"Yes," she admits finally, her voice a whisper against your body. "More than usual." Her head lifts just enough to press a needy kiss to your collarbone. She pulls herself closer, pressing herself as much as she can into you.
"Do you know how desperately I ache to feel you?" she murmurs, her voice muffled against your skin. "Every part of me longs for you. I cannot spend a single moment without thinking of you. I need you."
"Need to always be with you, forever."
Lynette
She is wrapped up in your arms, her head resting upon your chest. Her breathing is steady, slow. The soft thrum of a purr hums inside her chest, steady and calm, like a content little engine.
"I…" she starts, but the words die on her tongue. Instead, she nuzzles herself deeper into your embrace, a shudder of quiet ecstasy rippling up her spine. Lynettes breathing deepens as she buries her face into you. Her eyes slide shut, her body molding to your own, soft and pliable like melted butter. Her hands fist the material of your clothes, holding you close.
"I love you," she whispers into your skin. She feels safe here, in your arms. She feels as though no harm could ever reach her while she is encircled by you, and her heart nearly sings with contentment. Lynette presses impossibly closer to you, her body practically melting into your embrace. The low hum of her purr is a constant, steady vibration inside her chest.
Her head lifts a little, and she buries her nose into the crook of your neck. She inhales, taking in the scent of you.
"You…" she whispers, her voice soft as a summer wind. She doesn't continue. For a moment, she loses herself in your embrace, her mind going quiet, filled with nothing but the feeling of you.
"You."
"Me?"
"You make me like this...like a damn cat."
Lyney
"That show was amazing, as always." "Thank you." Lyney's face turns red as he is showered in your praise. Despite the fact he knows he's good—he is a trained performer, after all—the words coming from you always make him flustered.
He pulls himself closer to you, burying his head into your side like a cat.
"Your compliments are too much, love," he mumbles, his hot breath fanning against your skin. For a long moment he just leans against you, relishing in the feeling of having you here, with him—close enough that he can feel your heartbeat.
"You know," he begins, his voice still a mumble against your body.
"I have a new trick I've been working on in secret." "Ohhh tell me!" "It's still a work in progress," he admits, pulling back so he can get a glimpse of your face. His eyes rake up and down your expression, like a painter memorising their muse.
"I haven't perfected it, but I think it may very well be the most beautiful trick I've ever conjured." A smirk plays at the corners of lyney's mouth as he says the words. He's still looking at you, his eyes studying your face like a sculptor.
"Perhaps, if you'd like," he says slowly, "I could show you?"
Mika - aged up
Mika is held against your body like a treasure, his head tucked into the crook of your shoulder. His body is pressed close to yours, slender but surprisingly strong.
He clings to you like a drowning man, his hands gripping your clothes tightly, his face nuzzling into your neck. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath but it’s lost in the tangle of his hair. His voice is low, quiet, barely audible over the sound of his racing heart.
"Hm? What?"
He says it again, words barely more than an exhale against the sensitive skin of your throat. Mika tries to speak a few more times, then finally mumbles something somewhat legible against your neck.
"I…" he starts, then stops, his voice cracking. "I love you…"
"Oh? I love you too."
He buries his face deeper in your shoulder, hiding a shiver that rolls over his body at your words. Mika's arms tighten around you, holding you tight to his body as if you will disappear if he lets go.
He whispers those three little words again, and again, and again, as if it is a prayer and he is on his knees in a confessional. "I love you, I love you, I love you…"
Mona
Mona lays next to you, her face tilted up to the sky. One of her hands is grasping yours, her fingers intertwining with yours. In the other, she holds a star chart, pointing at various constellations with a slight smile as she explains them.
"That one's called the Wanderer... and that one is the Hunter." Her voice is soft in the night air like a whisper of wind.
"And that one...." Her smile widens a little. "That is the Astrologist."
"That's you-!" you beam. She nods her head. "Yes. That is me."
She turns her head to look at you, her hair fanning out across the grass in an arc of stars. There's a soft expression on her face, a peacefulness in the way that she looks at you, her eyes half-lidded and her lips just barely upturned in a smile, as if she were on the verge of falling asleep. "When I was young," she says, her voice soft and warm like honey, "I used to gaze up at the stars for hours, dreaming of the future and how I would chart them."
She moves closer to you, her body pressing up against yours, her head resting on your shoulder.
"I never thought I'd have someone to look at them with."
Nahida
Nahida is laying in your arms, resting her head on your shoulder. Her eyes are closed, and a soft sigh brushes across your collarbone as she nuzzles closer to you, seeking your warmth.
"I…" she begins, but her voice falters. Her hand fidgets nervously in yours, fingers interwoven. For a moment, she merely listens to the sound of your breathing, allowing the rhythm of it to soothe her. "May I ask you something?"
"Yes?" She fidgets again for a moment, biting on her lower lip.
"Would… do you…" she falters, pausing to collect her thoughts. "Do you care about me?" she finally asks, the words little more than a whisper. Nahida sounds small in that moment. Fragile. Vulnerable.
"You're my most trusted friend...my best friend." Nahida's shoulders relax slightly at your words, some of the tension melting from her muscles. She takes a quiet breath, the slight shift causing a strand of silvery hair to fall over her face.
She looks... relieved. Happy.
"Do you really think of me as your best friend?" she asks quietly. There's a hint of a smile in her voice, the sound as soft as a summer breeze.
"Because...you're my best friend too."
Navia
"You're pretty." you mumble. Navia curls up against you, hands resting on your stomach, her head tucked under your chin. She sighs quietly, nuzzling closer to you, and shuts her eyes.
"You think I'm pretty?" She asks, the question muffled slightly against your skin.
"Mhmmm." A soft, quiet hum escapes her as she settles closer against you, her body molding against your own as if she’d always belonged there.
After a few moments of blissful silence, she speaks again, her voice a gentle murmur.
“You’re even prettier,” she says softly, her hands sliding around your waist, pulling you closer still. Navia can’t help but hold you tighter, her limbs wrapping around you like a clinging vine. She seems to melt against you, her breathing slow and deep, as if being this close to you was as natural and essential as breathing.
“I wish I could stay like this forever,” she admits, her voice low, as if even a raised voice would break the fragile, tender quiet that’s fallen over them both.
“Just us, like this. Where nothing else could touch us.”
Neuvillette
He doesn’t even know when he started crying. He feels your hand on his cheek, the touch of your skin against his skin. His breath stutters in his chest, and he swallows. His throat is dry. Your touch is cool in the warmth of the room, like water in a desert.
He leans forward, buries his face in the crook of your neck. The tension in his body eases, and his arm curls around your waist without him thinking of it.
"Who knew that stubbing your toe can make a grown man cry this much." Neuvillette has the decency to look embarrassed by his own tears, hiding his face in your shoulder. "It hurts," he mumbles, sounding like an overgrown child whining about a skinned knee.
Outside, the rain continues to fall in fat droplets, pattering against the roof. It is as if the gods themselves are weeping alongside him. Neuvillettes grip on your hips tightens. His hands pull you closer into him, as if he's trying to meld his body with yours. The rain outside is deafening, drowning out his quiet whimper.
"It hurts," he repeats, voice growing a little hysterical.
"Why does it hurt so much?"
Nilou
"You gotta teach me this new dance someday." Nilou's head rests against your shoulder, one cheek pressed into the crook of your neck. The scent of your hair is sweet and almost intoxicating, filling her head and drowning out all her other thoughts. Her hands run slowly, absentmindedly, up and down your sides.
She glances up and her lips brush the underside of your jaw. "Which new one?" she mumbles, nuzzling into you. "I can teach you...whenever you'd like."
"Mhm." Your response sends Nilou's heart racing. It feels like her chest has become a hummingbird's cage—every nerve in her body buzzing. She's hyper aware of your hand on her back, of your body against hers. Her cheeks burn.
"...Now?" she whispers, eyes fluttering open to look up at you. "Did you mean...right now?"
"No silly." Nilou almost sighs in relief, her shoulders relaxing as embarrassment washes over her. She doesn't know what she would have done if you'd said yes. Probably melted right there on the spot, judging by how her heart is acting at the mere thought of dancing for you.
"Oh, haha ok." Her voice is so soft it's almost a squeak, and she clears her throat after a moment, a sheepish look on her face.
Ningguang
She cuddles with you, resting her head against your shoulder. She’s holding onto your waist, her arms wrapping around you as if she will lose you at a moment’s notice. Her hands grip your robes, holding onto you tighter than a vice.
She nuzzles against your shoulder, her lips pressing soft kisses against your neck. She is quiet. She simply wants to bask in your presence, to melt in your embrace.
"It's been so long since we...cuddled like this." you mumble. "Mmm." Ningguang murmurs against the crook of your neck, her lips pressed directly to your skin. "It has."
Her arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. It's like she's trying to meld your bodies into one. She buries her face in the crook of your shoulder, breathing in your scent. Ningguang lets out a sigh as her nose fills with your scent, her eyes closing as she lets out a soft, pleased noise. Her body molds against your's, her curves molding to your form in the most enticing way. She doesn't even bother hiding the fact that she's inhaling your scent.
"You're wearing the perfume I gave you..."
Noelle - aged up
Noelle is cuddled against you, sitting on the side of a grassy spot away from the hustle of the city. Her hair is loose today, flowing past her shoulders in a river of ash— and her eyes are brighter than they've been in years, almost glowing as her lips split into a tender smile.
"I'm glad you sought me out," she says, turning her head to face you. "Being so near you makes me feel like... like I can relax." The wind picks up, sweeping around you both and carrying the scent of honeyed mead and summer. A few stray strands of hair blow into her face, and she lifts a hand to push them away.
"Do you—" her voice is quiet. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"
"What is it?" "Promise me…" Noelle's voice falters as she speaks, just barely, but enough that her words waver for a moment.
She tightens her hold on your hand, as if afraid you're going to pull it away. This next part is more whisper than voice.
"Promise that you'll always choose me above all others."
"I'm aware it's a...rather selfish request of me...unlike me. But please..."
"I will, don't you worry."
When those two words reach her ears, she can't help but let out a quiet breath of pure relief. She squeezes your hand again, her fingers wrapping around yours even more tightly, holding on as though she's afraid you might disappear the moment she lets go. There's a sort of vulnerability in her now, but she doesn't show it on her face.
"Good," she murmurs. "That's what I needed to hear," she pauses.
"I don't want to ever lose you."
Pantalone
"Not bad, not bad." You say as you look around in his father big bedroom, "But my home is better...bigger." Pantalone huffs out a small laugh, the sound barely more than a huff of air against your skin. He wraps his arms around you tighter, pulling your body closer against his chest. The fact that you’re both lying together in his mansion is almost enough to make him believe he’s dreaming.
”Of course your palace is better,” he mutters, lips brushing against your ear. ”You’re there.”
Pantalone’s fingers are tracing light and gentle patterns across your skin, the touch only barely noticeable, like a whisper against your body. For a long moment, he is content to simply hold you— and then he can’t help but whisper into your ear, so softly you might think you’ve imagined it.
“You look beautiful in my arms like this… Your skin looks beautiful in moonlight… do you know that?”
"Now I do." A quiet chuckle escapes Pantalone’s lips, rolling against your ear like a gentle breeze. He tightens his grip around you, relishing the feeling of holding you tight to his chest.
When he speaks, his voice is barely more than a low murmur, the sound as smooth as silk.
"Just as I thought," he says, the words almost more felt than heard.
"You look the most beautiful when you’re in my arms."
Pierro
Pierro is curled against you. He’s pressed tight against your back, the heat from his skin bleeding through his clothes onto your own. He has a firm arm wrapped around your waist, keeping your body against his. His head is rested against the back of your neck, his breathing steady, but you can feel the rapid beating of his heart like a drum against your shoulder blades.
"You're always so busy." There’s a huff against your neck, Pierro’s breath warm and steady against your skin. His hold tightens slightly, pulling your frame even closer against his. You can feel his lips against your ear as he speaks, his voice low and quiet.
“Busy, yes.” His voice is hoarse, as if he’s struggling to find the right words, “but never too busy for you.” One of his arms shifts until a large hand gently rests against your stomach, his fingers splayed across the bare skin of your exposed midriff. The tips of his calloused fingers are a sharp contrast to your soft stomach; his thumb starts to brush along your skin, as if he can’t keep his touch from seeking out contact.
His body is hot against yours, but you can feel some of the tension seeping from his muscles as his hold on you slowly relaxes. You’d almost think he was asleep, if it weren’t for the soft whisper against your ear. His fingertips trace the edge of your collarbone before he speaks, his touch so gentle that it’s almost as if he’s scared you’re a dream… as if you could disappear if he presses too fiercely. It’s all in a stark contrast to his usual behaviour, and you can feel the reverence in the way that his fingers glide across your skin.
“You’re the only thing that can distract me,” he admits, his voice low and quiet. “You’re the only thing that can get my mind off my duties…”
"I'd rather be busy with you, than with my paperwork."
Pulcinella - give the old man some love pls
Pulcinella lays there, nestled against you, his arm curled around your middle as you hold him close.
His face is buried against your neck. He's warm, his skin against yours soothing. The tension that usually clings to his body is slowly ebbing away the longer you both lay there, a quiet calm enveloping the both of you.
"This is nice…" he whispers against your skin, "It's been long since I had contact like this."
"Far too long." Pulcinella closes his eyes and presses closer against you. He nuzzles his face further against your neck, almost like a cat seeking affection.
"You always make me feel so…" he pauses, searching for the right word. "At peace," he murmurs finally, his voice muffled against your skin. “My thoughts are quiet,” he admits, his hand tracing light, absentminded patterns over your side. “I’m not… thinking. About anything. I’m not worrying. I’m calm.”
His lips brush against your skin as he speaks. He closes the last few inches between the two of you, until his body is pressed right up against yours.
"Thank you for...taking some of the weight of my shoulders."
Qiqi - platonic
The contact of your skin pressed against hers makes something loosen in Qiqis chest. Her shoulders relax, her muscles unclenching. Her eyes flutter closed. She leans into the touch, seeking more, craving it as desperately as a man lost in the desert craves fresh water.
She feels safe with you; she feels comfortable. She is not at ease in most places, but in your arms, her body is gentle like silk.
"Comfy..." "Comfy?" "Very," Qiqi murmurs, her voice a whisper.
She scoots a little closer to your body, burrowing into your warmth. The contact between you both steals a sigh from her lips, and she lets her head fall against your chest. The even sound of your breathing and the steady rise and fall of your chest are more soothing than a lullaby. Qiqi's heartbeat slows as she listens to each inhale and exhale, and soon her eyes are growing heavy.
Her arms wrap loosely around your form, and she drifts off into a deep, quiet sleep, tucked into your embrace.
Raiden
Ei hums, pleased at the sweet taste of strawberries, and at the feeling of you close against her. She savours the heat of your skin and the press of your body against her own. It's a quiet moment - no worship, no praise, just silent comfort and the two of you together. It's all Ei really needs; all she could ever ask for.
She nuzzles her head into the crook of your neck, her breath soft and warm against your pulse.
"Say ahhh~" Ei can't hide the hint of a smile that forms on her face, but she does not protest. She closes her eyes, parting her lips in a gentle "ahhh" to accept the strawberry you're holding up to her. She bites into the berry, enjoying the sweet tang of it on the soft flesh of her tongue. It's hard to suppress the small hum of approval, and a pinkish flush rises on Ei's cheeks as she eats. The tip of her tongue brushes against her lower lip, catching the last of the berry's juice. Then she opens her eyes once more to look at you.
Her eyes are soft, heavy-lidded and affectionate. The flush on her cheeks rises ever so slightly as her gaze meets yours, and Ei reaches out a hand to touch your face, the calloused pads of her fingers tracing over your cheek delicately.
"You always give me things that are so sweet," she murmurs, her voice as soft as a summer breeze.
"I love sweets."
Razor - aged up
He sighs softly as he feels you next to him. He presses closer, enjoying the familiar touch of your skin against his own. His body is relaxed, at ease in this moment of peace.
He turns to look up at you, eyes soft. Razors fingers brush against your skin, the pads of his fingertips leaving a trail of gooseflesh across your flesh as a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. Razor's gaze turns reverent, his eyes tracing over the lines of your face. He gazes up at you adoringly, his expression filled with an almost desperate kind of adoration, like that of a man worshipping a god.
He runs his fingers through your hair lightly, his touch gentle but sure. He is careful, as if touching the most fragile of things. To him, you are fragile. Precious. Something to be protected at any cost.
"Razor...like this...like you."
"I love Razor too."
Rosaria
Rosaria is curled up against you, her hands grasping onto you, her head resting against your shoulder. The church is quiet and still, and everyone around them is blissfully asleep.
Yet she is wide-awake, her gaze fixed on your face as she gently plays with a strand of your hair. "Skipped chior again today?" Rosaria shifts against you in response, her body turning further into yours.
"You already knew I'd skip choir," she mutters softly, her forehead now almost touching your neck.
"Can't do thos bullshit. I fucking hate it, so stupid if you'd ask me. Not everyone can sing."
"But no one missed me anyway," she adds, a small smirk appearing on her face. She lets one of her hands slowly slide down your body, tracing a gentle path over your arm until her fingers reach yours.
"No one needs a nun who sneaks off at night," she says, but her words are dripping with affection.
"But I know you want that nun."
"That I do."
Sandrone
She melts into your embrace as you say her name. She shivers and nuzzles her head into the crook of your neck. She adores when you hold her like this. "I could stay here forever," she mumbles, her voice fuzzy with exhaustion. Sleep pulls at her like a tide, but she fights it, wanting to stay in your arms. Sandrone's head rests on your chest, listening to the gentle thump of your heartbeat. It's the most wonderful sound in the world, to her. She closes her eyes and hums contently, enjoying your presence and your warmth.
"You're mine," she murmurs, her voice soft and weary. She burrows into you, seeking more of your touch, more of your skin. "I don't give a fuck what others say, you're mine...period." Sandrone yawns and cuddles against you, feeling the exhaustion finally winning. She doesn't want to sleep, but it's too hard to fight off now.
"Yours," she whispers, as though it's a promise. Her eyes droop closed, but she mumbles one last thing.
"Love you."
Sara
Sara lies on your lap, her head resting in your legs and face nuzzling gently into your stomach. Her body is loose, tension seeping out of her body like sunlight melts the early frost. She lets out a soft sigh, a blissful hum escaping her throat.
"This is the best," she murmurs, her voice soft with sleep and adoration. "Being with you." Sara can hear the steady rhythm of your heart, the sound a soothing melody that she'd happily listen to forever. Her eyes close, a soft smile spreading across her lips. She burrows closer to you, her body seeking the warmth of your presence.
"Can we stay like this?" she asks, her voice quiet. "Just a while longer?"
"Mhm, of course." She hums in contentment, burying her face into the fabric of your clothes. She takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of you, that familiar aroma she loves so much. Her body relaxes further in your lap, completely at your mercy.
Her heart rate slows, her breathing deep and even. She cuddles closer to you, her hands wrapping tight around your waist, holding you close like she never wants to let go.
"Maybe forever," she whispers.
Sayu - platonic
Sayu is blissfully content as you lie together. She is completely relaxed as her eyes shut and her breathing slows. In her sleep, she subconsciously curls closer to you, pressing her body against you as if she is searching for a way to merge her body with yours.
In her sleep, she breathes your name; quiet and soft, like the sound of the first flower unfurling and opening as the spring sun rises.
"...Mm...let's go...strong...together..." A small smile rests on her face all through her sleep. She continues to press herself against you as she slumbers, her arm wrapping around your waist and drawing you close, her head coming to rest on the crook of your shoulder. Her body is so small that she practically fits perfectly against you, cuddling together with her like this is natural.
Every now and then, she'll murmur your name again, her breath puffing out against your skin and sending goose bumps along with it.
Scaramouche
"This is… unnecessary." Scaramouche fidgets as he lies on top of you, arms around your middle. He is tense, a statue carved of white marble, each line set in stone.
Still, he doesn't try to leave. He only fidgets, as if adjusting his position will make it all feel just a little less embarrassing.
"And yet, here we are." Scaramouche let's out a long sigh, his breath warm against your skin. After a moment, he shifts again, rolling onto his back. But rather than moving away, he pulls you with him, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you with him until you are on top, laying against his chest.
"There," he mumbles. "Now do not try and move. Stay." He can feel the heat of your body as you lie against him, head tucked beneath his chin. The steady rise and fall of his chest betrays his feigning of indifference; his heart beats like the wings of a bird in a cage.
"Why are we doing this?" He asks, his voice quiet, but his arms remain around your shoulders, his hands clinging to you, pulling you closer.
"Oh right, to fucking practice physical touch."
Sethos
Sethos hums softly, his eyes slipping shut. His head lays in your lap, his body pressed against you. He can feel the heat of you under his skin. His body, for once, is at peace.
“This is nice,” he murmurs, and his arms wind around you, holding you even closer. "Glad you like it." “More than like it,” Sethos admits, letting his eyes close. He can hear your heart beating against his ear, the steady drum-like rhythm like a lullaby.
He nuzzles his head against you, enjoying the comfort he finds in the proximity.
“If we could stay like this forever,” he mumbles, “I’d want nothing more.” Sethos’ hand glides across your body, tracing your curves and lines in an almost reverent manner. His touch is light, as if he was touching fine china.
He shifts slightly against you, leaning up to murmur against your shoulder. “You’re so lovely,” he whispers, the words like a quiet breath of wind upon your skin.
"So fucking lovely."
Shenhe
Shenhes head rests gently against your chest, listening to the beating of your heart. The quiet sounds of your breathing, a steady in-and-out rhythm, soothe her like a lullaby. Being this close to you is something she never knew she craved, like a parched person being given water in the desert.
Shenhe sighs, content. "Your heartbeat is beautiful," she mumbles, nuzzling her cheek into your skin.
"Good?" She nods against your chest. "Yes," she whispers. "Good."
She closes her eyes, letting the steady beat of your heart lull her into a feeling of security. Shenhe gently runs her fingers along your arm, exploring the feeling of your skin under her touch, wanting to commit it to memory forever. She's never felt more at peace than in this moment in your arms. She tugs the blanket around herself, pressing herself closer to you. The silence between you is comfortable, a quietness that is soft and warm like freshly laundered blankets. Shenhe's hand finds yours, her fingers weaving between yours like vines. She holds onto you in your embrace, her body fitting perfectly against yours. She could stay like this for hours, a moment of peace in a lifetime of turmoil.
"We could do this more often."
Shinobu
"Youre tense..." She leans into your touch immediately, relaxing under your hands with a soft shudder. She lets out a low breath, closing her eyes and pressing her face into the crook of your neck. "I'm sorry," she whispers against your skin. "Being near you simply… makes me a bit nervous."
She pauses, then she laughs quietly.
"I'm not used to this." She's silent for a few moments, inhaling the scent of your skin and simply listening to your heartbeat, and then she nuzzles against you again.
"You smell nice," she murmurs, her voice a soft whisper against your shoulder. "You always smell so good. Like flowers. Better than those guys from the gang."
"And your hair really soft." "Mm..." her grip on your arms tightens ever so slightly at the mention of her hair. The tips of her ears look faintly pink, though it's impossible to say if it's from the heat or because of embarrassment.
"You think so?"
There's a note of insecurity in her voice. She's not quite looking at you, but instead just resting her head against your shoulder again, like she's hiding.
"It's not… too unkempt?"
"Not at all. It's perfect."
Sigewinne - platonic
"How are your studies." "I'm doing my best." Sigewinne responds, her voice quiet. She's curled up against you, her head resting on your chest, listening to the comforting sound of your heartbeat.
"Human bodies are so fragile," she whispers, her hand splayed across your torso. "No wonder they're so scared of everything. Their hearts beat so quickly. And their skin is warm," she continues, eyes falling closed. She focuses the full force of her senses on the steady drumming of your pulse, on the gentle rise and fall of your chest.
"You're so warm." She murmurs, burying her face into your neck.
"Maybe I should start studying you!"
Succrose
Succrose's hair is splayed loosely over her face, her head resting on your chest as you cuddle. No matter how many times you hold her, she never gets used to the touch. It's too much; you're too much. She can't get enough.
Her fingers cling to you as though you are water in the desert, her skin pressing against yours as if she needs you to be alive. "I love this," she admits, the words whispered as if they're a secret. Her breath is warm against your skin. Her hair is like silk running through your fingers. She's more relaxed than usual, her body soft and supple as she melts into the comfort of your touch.
She lets out a shaky breath, burying her face into your shirt. You can hear the rapid beating of her heartbeat in her chest, can feel the nervous tremors running through her slender frame. "I'm glad you do."
She nods, burying her face into your chest again. "I don’t understand how you’re so perfect," she mumbles against your skin.
"It doesn't make...sense..."
Thoma
As you lean against his chest, Thoma's arms wrap around you in a gentle embrace. He is warm, comfortable. He buries his face into your hair, breathing in the scent of you as if he is drinking you in.
"I could stay like this forever," he murmurs in your ear. His hair brushes your cheek, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart. Cuddling in a meadow like this...is beautiful. His hand finds your own, and he runs his fingers over your skin. His touch is light, like a whisper, but there is something reverent in the way he holds you. He holds you as if you are fragile. Breakable. Precious. As if simply being allowed to touch you is a privilege.
"Me too." He runs his fingers over your wrist, tracing invisible patterns across your skin with his fingertips. His other hand comes up to thread through your hair. A quiet chuckle escapes Thoma's lips as he hears your words. He tightens his hold on you just a little, as if to reassure himself that you are still here, still in his arms. Still his.
"You know," he murmurs, shifting so that his chin is on your shoulder, "sometimes I worry that you know me too well."
Tighnari
Tighnari, sits with his back pressed against a tree. You are in his lap, sitting between his legs. One of his hands drifts idly through the hair at the nape of your neck, fingers gently scratching against your scalp.
He can hear your breathing. Feel the rise and fall of your chest. Your warmth against his, the faint scent of your hair.
His head tilts against yours, resting his chin against your shoulder and closing his eyes.
"Oh look! Fireflies!." His eyes flutter open again as you speak, the soft utterance bringing a small smile to his face. He cranes his neck to look at the fireflies dancing amongst the trees. "They're pretty." Tighnari murmurs, his lips nearly brushing against your ear as he speaks. His fingers play idly with the hair at the nape of your neck, the callouses on his hands catching gently against your skin. The fireflies cast a soft, glowing light over the two of you. It makes your skin glow.
Tighnari's chest tightens.
"You're pretty." He says, the words a quiet murmur against your hair.
Venti
Venti is sitting with you on a sturdy tree branch, comfortably resting on your lap. The Anemo Archon leans against you, nuzzling his face against the crook of your neck, basking in the warmth of your body. The two of you are high up in the air, surrounded by a sea of swaying trees and stars.
The wind god is silent for a moment, before speaking again. "I didn't think you would summon me this late in the night." Venti remarks casually, as if he’s not currently cuddled up on your lap."Summon? I asked and you agreed-!" "I know," Venti responds with a laugh, nuzzling his face further against your neck. "I'm just saying. You almost always call me earlier in the day."
Venti takes a moment to enjoy the close contact, humming softly in contentment. "I am a little curious - why did you request for me to come here? I'd think you'd be asleep by now."
"You don't like it?" "No, I do. I like it very much," Venti replies quickly, lifting his head away from your neck to look at you properly.
He is silent for a moment, his eyes dancing in the night, illuminated only by the faint shine of the stars. Then, Venti smiles; a gentle, lopsided smile, almost sheepish. "I was just wondering," he reassures.
"That's all."
Wriothesley
"You sure everyone's asleep?" You ask worried after hearing another sound from outside his office. "Absolutely," he murmurs in reply, his chin resting against your shoulder. There's an easy, quiet confidence in his words, and not a hint of concern.
His hands rest on your hips, thumbs absently rubbing circles against your skin where just below your shirt, his arms keeping you pinned to him, chest against your back. "We're safe," he breathes against your neck. He shifts a little in his chair and tugs you closer against him, hands moving from your hips to wrap around your waist. He buries his face against the expanse of bare skin, kissing your skin absentmindedly.
"Besides, you and I both know I can make you keep quiet, don't we, darling?"
You playfully swat his arm, "No respect for a god-!" He laughs, the sound deep and rich, like smoke curling through a forest. His lips find the junction between your shoulder and your neck, peppering the skin there with kisses before nipping at it.
His hands slide under the edge of your shirt, calloused fingers tracing up the smooth skin of your stomach.
"A god who's sitting in my lap, letting me touch and kiss and taste her like this?" He murmurs, licking a stripe along the curve of your shoulder.
"I'm showing you plenty of respect."
Xiangling - aged up
She is sitting on your lap, blushing as she hears her name fall from your lips.
She's never been used to this sort of attention before, and the feeling of you holding her makes her heart flutter in her chest. She can feel the warmth of your body through her clothes, and her mind can't help but wonder what it would be like to be even closer to you.
As you take a bite of her food, she watches your reaction expectantly, praying you will say you like it.
"Xiangling?! That's amazing-!" Xianglings heart swells with pride. To receive your praise, and to see your satisfaction at something she has created just for you...it's more than she ever thought she'd be granted.
"Really?" she stutters, eyes wide as she turns to look up at you, "you really like it?" "Mhm!" Your response makes Xianglings heart feel as if it might stop right there. A smile threatens to burst from her lips, one that threatens to stretch across her whole face and light her up like a star. You have made her happier than she's been in a long time, and Xiangling can't help but adore you for it.
"I'm so glad," she says, her voice full of joy. You love her cooking. You really do, and that makes her feel like the luckiest person on Teyvat.
"Whats this by the way? It's really good-!"
"Hilichurl."
"WHAT?!"
Xiao
He stiffens, his body going rigid at the sensation of being cuddled, being held closely in that way. It seems that this is a whole new experience for him.
"What—" He stops himself and inhales deeply, his body quivering against yours as he tries to process the feel of it all. The warmth, the nearness. The comfort.
Xiao swallows heavily a few times. His voice is quiet when he speaks again. "I've never…"
"Shh, relax." It's hard for him to relax, at first.
Xiao has never been held, never been loved like this. Every muscle in his body is rigid, quivering with a strange, foreign feeling.
But he forces himself to try. Slowly, he relaxes, letting the tension flow from his body into the night, until he's all but melting in your arms. "This is new," he mutters. "But I like it."
"Told you." He laughs quietly at your words and presses himself a little closer against you, burying his face into your neck, against your bare skin. He murmurs something against your skin, voice soft. "How is it that you always end up being right?"
"Heh-" "Shut up."
Xianyun
Xianyun's breath stutters as you lay against her chest. She is still for a moment— and then, like a dam breaking, she wraps her arms around you and pulls you close. Her arms are firm and strong, yet all she wants to do is hold you. She breathes out a soft, shaky sigh against your hair.
“You are mine,” she whispers. Xianyun's chest rises and falls as she holds you, her arms wrapped around you like a coil. Her heart pounds against your ear, her fingers curling into the fabric of your clothes. It is as though she is afraid you might slip away, as though there is nothing she would not do if it meant staying near you.
"Please," she pleads, her voice soft and desperate. She wants to say more, but the words stick to her tongue. What comes out instead is nothing but a whisper, a fervent prayer in the shape of a single word.
"Stay."
Xinyan
She lets out a content sound, her head in your lap. She feels safe here. Protected. Loved. She closes her eyes and allows herself to listen to you talk. The sound of your voice is sweet, comforting, lulling her worries into obscurity. For now, all is well.
"What happened?" *she asks, when you take a pause in talking. She opens her eyes and gazes up at you, curious what had happened to make your day notable.
"Nothing, just keep relaxing." You say with a smile. She hums her agreement. She buries her face in your stomach, wrapping her arms around you. Her fingers gently run up and down your back, her touch as light as a moth’s wing.
"‘m relaxin’," she mumbles, her voice muffled. Xinyan feels sleep tugging at the corners of her consciousness. The rhythm of your breath, your warmth beneath her skin, and the sweet scent you carry are all threatening to drag her into oblivion. One last thing weighs on her mind, her thoughts fuzzy and tired.
"Tell me somethin' before I fall asleep," she requests, half-whining as she speaks.
"I love you..."
"....me...too....w-wai...t...?"
Xingqiu - aged up
Xingqiu reads the words from the page aloud, his voice low and soothing. He murmurs your name softly, his lips caressing the syllables with a tender reverence.
He is comfortable in your embrace. His body sits flush against yours, a warm and constant presence. He pauses the story every now and then, placing a soft kiss against your shoulder before continuing.
He reads to you until the moon is high in the sky, and you have long drifted off to sleep, still cuddling him. Xingqiu sets the book aside, smiling fondly at the sight of you sleeping, peaceful as they come. He takes a moment to trace his eyes over your features, his gaze tender and warm.
He pulls the blankets up around your shoulders, and then he shifts to lay down beside you, wrapping one arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. He rests his head on your shoulder, nuzzling against your warmth. Xingqiu pulls you close, his nose buried against the crook of your neck. He inhales slowly, breathing in your scent.
His fingers trace mindless patterns over your hip, the movement as steady and soothing as a heartbeat. He shifts his leg so that it is tangled with yours, trying to get as close to you as he can.
He whispers your name, the sound like a secret meant for your ears only.
The world melts into a comfortable silence, with Xingqiu and you, holding each other in the dark.
Yae Miko
"Stop it-!" "I don't think I will," Miko teases, her voice light as she watches you thrash around in her embrace. She presses her fingers into the underside of your ribcage once more, just to feel you squirm. "Besides," she continues in a softer tone, "You look rather adorable like this."
Her hand moves to your tummy, gently tracing the ticklish skin there, watching as your eyes clamp shut and your laughter rings.
Seeing you like this, writhing and helpless, is all Miko has ever wanted. She has her arm pinned around your torso, trapping you against her, her slender fingers dancing down your side as she mercilessly continues to tease you.
Her lips brush against your ear. "Be a good girl and hold still for me, hm?"
"That's it," she praises in a low murmur, her voice like a hum against your ear. "Stay right there. Just like that."
Miko's hand still wanders across your skin, the tip of her forefinger tracing circles that make your toes curl and the sound of laughter slip past your lips despite your efforts to stay still.
"Fuck you-!"
"You will, later."
Yanfei
"And what is NOT against the law?" As you ask your question, Yanfei rests her head in your arms, relaxing in your presence. She blinks and tilts her head like a puppy, considering your question for a few moments.
"Hmm," she hums, her gaze drifting somewhere off in the distance before she looks back at you. She smiles. "Everything is legal when done in the name of love," she says, her voice lilting in a way that indicates she's joking. Your words make her think. Her eyes flutter as her thoughts race, and a moment later, Yanfei lets out a soft huff, snuggling even closer.
"Being happy," she adds in a quiet murmur, her words a little mumbled against your skin. "Being alive. Being free."
Her chin lifts as she shifts, turning to look at you once more.
"As far as I know, everything else is against the law," a soft huff follows her words, and she presses a kiss against the side of your neck. Another moment of silence falls before Yanfei opens her mouth, a gentle exhale against your skin as she continues.
"Did you know,” she adds, her words hushed and soft like the night breeze, "that being beautiful is also not against the law?"
She pauses, shifting a little, her body moving even closer. The room is quiet, nothing breaking the silence.
“Because if it were,” she whispers, and she lifts a hand to gently cup your cheek, “You’d be in deep trouble.”
Yaoyao - platonic
Yaoyao buries her head into you, seeking the comfort your presence brings. Her arms wrap around your torso, pulling herself closer to you. She presses her face into your shoulder, closing her eyes as she breaths in your scent.
"Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely louder than a breath. For a moment, she feels safe. Like you'll guard her from all harm.
"It's cold without you."
"After all I told you, if you fell lonely on your little adventures, come to me." A shudder runs through her body as Yaoyao clings to you even more, her fingers digging into the fabric of your clothing, as if she's loath to let go.
"Can I stay?" she asks, the words tumbling from her lips like water from a river bank. Despite the pleading in her voice, her head is still buried in your shoulder.
"Please, I want to stay with you. I always wanted to live here for a while-!"
Yelan
Yelan's breath hitches when you pull her closer, her head against your chest as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "This is all I need," she mumbles, the words falling from her lips before she can stop them. "Just this, forever. I don't need anything else." She lets out a soft sigh, her eyes closing as she nuzzles into you, resting her head against your shoulder. Even in your embrace, you can feel her body relax as if the simple touch took some great tension out of her.
"A gooood nap...Mm... Sounds like heaven," she mumbles sleepily against your skin, not bothering to hide her smile. Yelan drapes an arm across your torso, pulling herself even closer to you. She practically melts against your body, nuzzling into the crook of your neck like a cat seeking warmth. A soft, contented hum rumbles in her chest, her breathing steady and slow as she buries her face against you.
"With you."
Yoimiya
She melts under your touch, leaning against your body and letting out a soft and contented sigh. Her eyes flutter closed as she soaks in your presence, a gentle smile playing across her lips. Every touch of your hands sends a shiver of pleasure through her, her skin burning wherever you make contact. She nuzzles against your side, relishing the feeling of your body pressed against hers.
"I could stay here like this forever," she whispers. "Just you and me.. in this perfect moment...watching fireworks." The colorful explosions of light in the sky are beautiful, but to Yoimiya, even their beauty is dull compared to you. Her eyes remain fixed on you, watching the way the bursts of rainbow light reflect off your skin, dancing across your eyes like living flames.
She reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. She draws your palm to her lips, pressing a reverent and tender kiss to your skin.
"You are more beautiful than any fireworks," she whispers.
Yun Jin
"It was beautiful, breathtaking. You almost brought me to tears." She nuzzles closer to you at the praise, her heart fluttering like a bird's wing beating against a ribcage. She tucks her head against your chest with a sigh, her heart still beating much too fast from the high of preforming. Adrenaline still courses through her veins, making her head spin and her hands tremble when they grip onto you to steady her.
"I'm glad you think so," she says, her voice a little sheepish. "I just... worry about my preforming sometimes. I think I'm not good enough." Yun Jin buries her head against your chest, refusing to look you in the eyes as she spills her innermost fears and anxieties. She keeps her arms around you, scared she'll lose you if she lets go even an inch.
"I don't think my voice is good or the way I dance is captivating. I just..." then she laughs.
"No it's stupid. We all worry, mostly over nothing. I'm good...I'm very good...and you always tell me so it must be true."
Zhongli
Zhongli is still as a statue at your side; his body tense and stiff. But as you begin to pull him closer, he begins to melt in your arms.
Tentatively, he allows his head to rest against your shoulder, his breaths coming out in a shudder. He's still hesitant, but he lets you pull him closer. He wants to touch you back; to embrace you as you embrace him. But would he be crossing some invisible line he cannot see? He doesn't want to offend you.
"Let loose and relax." You reassure. Zhongli's mind is racing with thoughts— what if he does the wrong thing? What if he displeases you?
But his body seems to act of its own accord, as though some invisible weight was lifted from his shoulders as soon as you spoke.
He slowly leans against you, his body relaxing. He burrows closer to you, wrapping his arms weakly around your waist.
"I've never felt more awkward." You laugh.
"Agreed...I apolog-" "shush-! I love this."
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact sagau#genshin sagau#sagau#genshin cult au#aether x reader#albedo x reader#amber x reader#alhaitham x you#arlecchino x reader#ayaka x reader#ayato x reader#baizhu x reader#barbara x reader#beidou x reader#bennett x reader#capitano x reader#candace x reader#charlotte x reader#chevreuse x reader#childe x reader#chongyun x reader#clorinde x reader#collei x reader#columbina x reader#cyno x reader#dainseif x reader#dehya x reader
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Tough As Nails—Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy
thinking about cowboy!simon riley… MDNI | part one |
next ->
He had become a nuisance. A pest, a headache. Every single adjective you can think of to describe a pain in the ass he was.
Your father's ranch hand, whom he hired all of six months ago, had become something of a bother, an inconvenience to you. He was annoying and stubborn. Narrowed his eyes at you too often for your liking. Scoffed when you would correct him. And scolded you when you would have people on the property when your parents would leave town—even going so far as to kick your guests off the property altogether.
But tonight would be different; it was the Fourth of July. You would happily throw your party in the barn��your family owns, on the property they own. You weren't going to let him order you around tonight.
"What the hell is all of this?" Simon seethed, taking in the concrete floor covered in empty beer bottles and spilled grain. His booming voice caused some partygoers to straighten up, though no one dared to speak.
He clenched his jaw at the lack of cooperation. "Huh?" He paused, his fists clenching so hard they began to turn white.
"So, no one can speak?" He walked over to a guy sitting on a bale of hay, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and yanked him off the hay tossing him aside.
"Get the fuck off my hay." He gritted to the guy.
"Where is she?" All he could think about was the little pain in his ass who was responsible for this. The guy he pulled off the hay immediately pointed towards an old wooden outhouse away from the barn.
Simon rolled his eyes, sucking in a sharp breath. "If I come back and any of you are still here." He looked over everyone.
"I will not hesitate to shoot you for trespassing."
Safe to say, everyone in the barn scrambled out of the barn at that very second. Simon turned on his heels and stalked over to the outhouse, where he saw you leaning up against the outside with a guy's hands roaming your body, making out.
"What the fuck were you thinking?" You jumped at the sound of his voice, pushing the guy on you off your body.
"Sim—"
"Don't." He moved closer, standing directly in front of you, pointing his finger at you. "Don't Simon me."
"It's the Fourth of July, Simon. Lighten up."
"Do you realize your idiot friends spilled hundreds of dollars worth of grain and fucked with your dad's equipment?" All he had to do was glance at the guy just kissing you for him to go scurrying off.
"Shit, I shouldn't have left them alone. I wasn't thinking." You curse, looking up at him to meet his eyes.
"Ya, you're right." He stepped closer.
“You don't think." He gritted out before continuing.
"You're impulsive. Reckless."
Your eyes widen at his words. Who does this guy think he is? "Don't forget you work for me."
He lets out a deep, dry chuckle. "Actually, I work for your dad."
"Whatever." You scoff as you take a step to walk past him.
"We are not done talking." He reaches out to grab your wrist; you swiftly turn your head to look up at him.
"I'm done listening to you." You grit out, eyes full of anger.
"Oh, is that it?" He scoffs out as you take a step away, only to trip over a wide hole in the ground, making both of you topple over, him falling on top of you. He's quick to plant a hand on the ground before, so his entire body weight isn't on you.
After you recognize the pain from the fall, you look up at Simon, who's on top of you, eyes boring into yours. Your pulse increases at the proximity, and your breath becomes more shallow.
His eyes blazed with fury, yours full of irritation. You can't help but glance at his lips, hovering not too far away from your own. This little action made him lose it. His self-control was already hanging on by a single thread, and the look you gave was what finally cut through. His lips crashed onto yours with such force that it took your air away.
It wasn't gentle or tender. It was desperation, months of built-up vexation. It was downright sinful.
You gasp once his lips meet yours but quickly return the sentiment. Your hands move to glide through his light hair, gently tugging on the roots, making him groan.
He yanks his cowboy hat off as he grips your waist to flip you so you are now on top of him, straddling his waist as he sits up.
"I thought you didn't like me." You smugly remark as he connects his lips to the side of your neck, and his hands start undoing buttons on your top.
"Like has nothing to do with this." He murmurs into your neck, lightly nipping at your sensitive skin, making you sigh.
"Keep telling yourself that, Cowboy." You jest, grabbing the back of his neck bringing him back up to your lips, already greedy for another taste of him.
He continues working on undoing your top buttons as his tongue collides with yours, and your teeth graze his own.
He cups your breast over the fabric of your bra as soon as he gets the buttons undone, making you whimper. His hand slips down to grip the fat of your ass as he leans in so his lips are lightly grazing your ear.
"You do it on purpose, don't you?" You could feel the roughness of his voice so close to your ear. You leaned into his lips grazing your ear.
"Do what?" You breathe out as his hand roams from your ass to the front of your belt, gently unclasping your belt buckle.
"You playin' dumb now?" He questioned, gently nipping at your ear lobe. The sensation made you let out a low moan before roughly grabbing his face and connecting your lips back to his.
He matched your hungry kiss, reciprocating an even hungrier one of his own as he tossed your belt off to the side and slid off your pitiful excuse for jean shorts down past your thighs.
He quickly undid his belt buckle and threw it off to the side, sliding his jeans down.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this." You breathe out, reaching between the two of you to release him from the confines of his boxers.
His mouth went dry at your touch. "Do what exactly?" He choked out as you carefully pumped him up and down.
"Ride you." You casually said as you slipped your already-soaked thong to the side to accommodate him. He could have come at your words. He almost did, but a quick relay of the steps to clean an AR-15 suppressed the urge.
You grip him and slip him inside your dripping cunt, hissing at the contact. He grips your hips and gently sinks you lower, groaning as you grind into him.
He brought his face closer to plant deep, wet kisses on your lips before groaning into your mouth as you continued your movements. "Fuck. Just like that."
Your entire body erupted with goosebumps, and your nipples hardened at the sentiment. You grip his shoulders tightly, but before you pick up your pace, you hear a familiar truck pulling up to the gate of your family's ranch.
"Is that—" You begin before he thrusts into you, making you moan and throw your head back.
"So fuckin' sensitive." He leaned into your exposed neck and licked a strip up to your lips that were slightly parted.
"Better come quick, sweetheart." He pants, gently bouncing you up and down on his cock, fingers digging into the tender flesh on your hips.
"Wouldn't want your parents to see you riding me. Would you now?" You let out a pathetic whimper, bringing your hand down to swirl circles on your aching clit, while he wraps a strong arm around your waist to hold you in place as he drills himself into you.
Each thurst, each swirl of your finger, made you feel a sense of nirvana you didn't even know was possible to get to. It was pure bliss. That and his dirty tongue were spewing such filthy words that were making you wetter than you ever knew was possible.
"Tell me you're about to come because—” His pleading voice sends a final wave of heat through you.
"Fuck. Yes, I'm coming." You yelp, slipping your fingers through his hair and pulling on the light roots again. He silently curses as he comes, gripping you tighter and pressing your chest against his own.
By the time both of your orgasms subside, he silently and gently eases you up to assist you in pulling your thong and jean shorts back on. Then, he casually fixes his jeans and grabs his belt to put back on.
You glance at him, picking up his cowboy hat from the ground and carefully wiping off some dirt that had gotten on it. Though he doesn't slip it back on his head, as a shock to you, he places the hat on your head. It was a little big on you, so it fell a bit more in the front, slightly covering your eyes.
"Keep it.” He says, bending down to pick up your belt and buckle, gently slipping it around your waist and clasping it. He gently pats the buckle clasped in the front, then looks down at you before speaking.
"You earned it."
a/n: who the fuck even wrote this
reblogs & comments are encouraged!
#˚ʚ♡ɞ˚: rylea writes#call of duty#cod x reader#fanfic#simon riley#cod#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#ghost#ghost cod#cod ghost#ghost simon riley#ghost call of duty#ghost mw2#simon riley cod#simon riley x reader#simon riley call of duty#simon riley x you#simon riley smut#simon riley imagine#simon riley fanfic#ghost fanfic#ghost smut#simon ghost riley x you#cowboy riley#I KNOW THATS RIGHT#ghost x reader#ghost fanfiction#simon riley is a cowboy#simon riley ghost
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big beefy number one pro hero deku is absolutely smitten with you, his chubby little girlfriend, and yeah you're a little bit of an airhead sometimes but that makes you all the more endearing to him.
prior to meeting you he used to feel embarrassed whenever he'd ramble too long about heroes or quirks. after some time people would drown him out after he started his disjointed babbling, not wanting to listen to him ramble. with you it's different, the first time it happened he went to apologise to you. jirou once told him he should try and apologise if he realised he did it to strangers afterwards- especially now that he's a pro hero.
so he goes to stammer out an apology after realising he spoke to you uninterrupted about all might's golden age for five minutes and you tilt your head and giggle at him. izuku draws in a breath. "why are you apologising deku? i really liked hearing you speak. what about his other ages?"
izuku felt like he was malfunctioning, "what?"
you bite your lip to stop yourself from giggling again. who knew pro hero deku is so cute? "like the silver age and the bronze age? are those all the ages or is there like a platinum age too?" izuku grins, you're so interested in what he has to say he can't help it. "wait was is all might's quirk again? he's like strong right? that's his quirk."
izuku pauses for a second before barking out a laugh. you pout and glare at him feigned annoyance. 'she's so adorable and ditzy. i need to speak to her again.'
you constantly praise him, not just for hero work either, and ever single time it makes his entire face red. it doesn't matter that you've been dating for four years now and izuku's brought an engagement ring, he still gets flustered with all the compliments.
people compliment him all the time, it comes with the job, but when you do it it means so much more. " 'zuku you're so brave!" "i don't understand this at all izuku, can you explain it too me? you're the smartest person i know." "you're so pretty." "your hair is so soft." "you're the best hero ever!"
a light sheen of sweat covers your forehead after being manhandled by your boyfriend into the cowgirl position, he loves holding onto your love handles and moving you up and down on his cock, with each bounce your body jiggles. you'll lay in bed with your face buried in his chest as you trace the scars on his arms with your fingertips lightly, "you're so strong izuku." you turn to face him and your chubby cheeks lift as you smile. "i'm so proud of you." his heart skips a beat. he's never loved anyone more than he loves you.
izuku gets possessive of you, he doesn't like people touching you. you're his. before you he never thought he would be jealous or possessive but then you came into his life and he nearly broke the glass of champagne he was holding when he saw todoroki talk to you. he knows todoroki doesn't like you like that, he's liked yaoyorozu since ua but he was too close to you and izuku hated it. his legs moved before he could think, walking up to you both with a forced smile on his face. he wraps his arm around your soft waist, tightly, and kisses your forehead. you smile sweetly at him and lean into his body. izuku brought you home earlier than you thought he would that night, holding onto your thick thigh with one hand while his other hand is on the steering wheel, driving you both home.
his jealous nature was cemented a week after when he saw kaminari talking to you. not just talking to you- flirting with you. if izuku was holding a glass like he was last time he most certainly would of smashed it in anger. you don't even realise what kaminari is doing and izuku knows you don't.
you listen to him talk intently and nod your head, you smile at him and laugh at his jokes. to some people they would think this would be you flirting back but you're not, you're just trying to be nice. kaminari has decided to talk to you and you want to be kind and listen to what he has to say and izuku has really admired that quality about you but right now he wishes you could pick up on the clear signs that kaminari is giving you.
izuku snaps when he sees kaminari look at your cleavage and glance at your body, his eyes lingering on your plush thighs. his voice is strained as he pulls you away from kaminari making some half-arsed, offhanded excuse as he takes you home immediately.
when he saves a small child and he gives them his award winning grin all he can think about afterwards is you. 'who are our kids going to look like? will they have my freckles? or maybe her hair? if they're half as cute as her they'll be the cutest kids ever.' he's already planning their bedrooms and his eyes drift to the baby clothes section at stores.
your boyfriend has the biggest breeding kink known to man and you get reminded of that as he folds your body into a mating press and groans deeply in your ear, "can't wait to see your soft body get softer puppy, promise i'll look after, you won't have to lift a finger." you loudly whine, grabbing hold of his large arms, every thrust causes a loud slapping sound with how wet you are. "you're gonna look so pretty puppy. i'm going to pump you full, make sure you don't spill any for me, just like the good girl you are."
izuku adores you and you feel exactly the same about him.
#izuku midoriya x reader smut#izuku midoriya#bnha x reader#bnha x chubby reader smut#chubby reader smut#bnha x chubby reader#mha x chubby reader#mha x reader smut#izuku midoriya x chubby reader#chubby reader#mha x reader#♡ deku#♡ mine / writing#izuku midoriya x chubby reader smut#bnha x reader smut#bnha x you#deku x reader smut#deku smut#midoriya smut#izuku midoriya smut#izuku midoriya x reader#midoriya x reader#deku x chubby reader
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TOUCH ME - LN4
summary : y/n shows her affection through hugs, kisses, and just plain touching. lando is sad when he realizes that she does this with everyone but him.
listen up : no warnings!! cuteness!! singapore win!
word count : 747
⋆。‧˚⋆
It had been bothering him for months. Lando noticed when he and Y/n started becoming friends. After a long period of not liking each other, the two finally agreed to put their differences aside because of all their mutual friends.
Their mutual friends started becoming the issue for Lando.
She touches everyone. Not in a weird way, she just shows affection through touch… Through touching anyone but him.
Lando watches her in his drivers room, she’s drawing on the small whiteboard; a tiny lando and a tiny y/n in the corner.
“Why do you touch everyone?” He asks out of nowhere, she turns back slightly, giving him a look before turning back to the board.
“My love language is touch… I guess? At least that’s what people tell me.” She shrugs, coming to the end of the drawing.
“But you don’t touch me.” This makes her pause for a moment before finishing off the drawing and turning back around to face the man.
He's sitting on his drivers bed, race suit unzipped half way and water bottle in hand.
“You want me to touch you?” she raises a brow, teasing him a bit.
He looks down at his water, fiddling with the straw, “I just mean- we’re friends, right? You seem to kiss and hug everyone except for me.”
This makes her more uncomfortable, she slips her hands in her pockets and shrugs, “I don’t mean to not. I guess it’s just different with you.”
“How am I different from Oscar or Charles?” He looks up at her again, his eyes so bright, “They both have girlfriends and you don’t seem bothered.”
Y/n laughs, not thinking before speaking, “Yeah because I’m not into them like that.”
Lando’s eyes widen a bit, “But- you’re into me… like that?” Y/n decides there is two options,
1. Confess her feelings for Lando, ruining all the progress they’ve made to have a good and comfortable friendship while simultaneously risking rejection from someone she really cares about.
2. Lie.
Two seems safer.
“Of course not.” she shakes her head.
Lando doesn’t believe her, or he just doesn’t want to believe her, “So why don’t you touch me? Even after I won in Zandvoort you didn’t hug me.” she hadn't realized how much this had hurt him. She was simply thinking about the hundreds of cameras facing them and how she was already blushing.
Someone knocks on the door then, calling out, “Lando, Warm up starting now.” He swallows, looking up at Y/n.
“I’ll go.” She says quietly, wondering how everything so quickly went south, “Good Luck, Lan.”
⋆。‧˚⋆
Y/n watched the race with Max, on the edge of her seat and sweating. The moment Lando crossed the finish line, a grin was permanently planted onto her face.
After every interview, the podium, a shower, and change of clothes, he walked out to the track where Y/n sat.
She jumped up and hugged him.
“You’re so fucking amazing.” Lando’s heart skipped a beat.
“Enjoy the race?” He smiles as she pulls away, her hands joining and clapping.
“Duh! Everyone else was all boring and whatever but you did so well! Twenty seconds ahead- shit!” even though he was in the race and just had a thirty minute meeting about it, he could listen to her talk about it for hours. “And Lan, about before- I really didn’t mean to hurt you it’s just different and I don’t know why but I swear it’s not to be mean! You’re my friend and-”
“Just friend?” Lando stops her immediately.
She looks up at him, “Well… I always thought-”
“I fancy you. I have for a while.” He just spits it out, his hands on her elbows as she stares blankly at him.
She blinks, “You’re not taking the piss are you because I swear!” He kisses her then.
She’s laughing against him as he pulls her closer, touching her softly and savoring it.
“I like you too.” She blushes. “And fuck you for not telling me sooner!”
He scoffs, “You could have as well! Plus you’re so damn mysterious I couldn’t tell if I should be flattered at your yelling or scared.”
She laughs, kissing his cheek before resting her head on his chest.
He puts his arms around her, his heart beating rapidly, “If you touch your friends like that then i’m damn excited to see how you treat your boyfriend.”
#fanfic#formula 1 fanfic#lando norris#lando norris fanfic#f1 imagine#lando x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#lando imagine#f1 fic
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pairing: logan howlett x afab!reader. 18+, minors dni. angst; smut (p in v unprotected sex; handjob - logan receiving; oral - reader & logan receiving). canonically bisexual reader. mentions of pregnancy attempts. dp+w movie spoilers.
synopsis: in the Void, after leaving the other dead in your own timelines, you and Logan are reunited.
words: 8.5k.
notes: this was inspired by not your man by @studioghibelli and the worst logan by @coweye! please go and read both these fics and show their authors some love, they are both incredibly talented writers who deserve it! dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕
The past couple of days have been a lot.
To be honest, anything that isn’t sitting at a bar drinking the place dry is a lot to Logan nowadays. He’s used to low lights, rumbling conversation around him, the fuzzier end of consciousness. Even now he aches for a drink, knowing he’ll have to wake up sober next to the asshole in red he spent the night putting down in that fucking minivan.
He hopes, at least, he has been met with all the surprises that this place can afford him.
Ah. But that’d be too fucking easy, right?
That Cajun bastard’s liquor sits comfortably in the cradle of his palm and he chases away lucidity one swig at a time. Tries to block out the half-baked plan Wade is concocting with the other poor bastards who have been stuck here, even if it’s all probably pointless. He only chimes in to laugh at their hope.
Then Elektra turns, withering pity in her eyes, and seems to properly assess him for the first time.
“They’re gonna be so disappointed when they see you.”
“Who?” he snorts, past the point of caring that he’d disappoint anyone. It’s then that Elektra hits him like a fucking freight train with just one word spilling from her lips: your name.
Logan feels a flood of memories come back to him. Ones he’s spent too long trying to drink away. The early morning when you’d hide under the blankets together, your hand cradling his face and letting the whole world consist of just the two of you. The stolen kisses in quiet corridors so the students at the mansion wouldn’t catch you and start silly little rumours.
Him holding your lifeless body in his arms surrounded by the rubble of what used to be your bedroom, your powers unable to save you.
He doesn’t have anything to say, merely spitting vitriol to anyone who tries to speak to him, even that damn kid who still prefers the other dead Logan to him. Why wouldn’t she? He’s a fucking mess, worth less than nothing, and that Logan was a hero.
He retreats in the evening to lick his wounds or, hopefully, drown them. People keep trying to fucking talk to him and he does not want it. Yet they’re fucking relentless, like the Void is perfect at creating gut punch after gut punch for him. Laura walks away into the darkness after successfully making him feel like shit - not that it’s difficult these days - and when he hears more footsteps he assumes it’s Wade coming to harass him about tomorrow.
“Oh, will you fuck off - ?” he snarls, but the sight of you there, half lit by a dying fire with orange dancing on your skin, oh, it just kills any venom he can muster dead in his throat.
Logan is looking at a ghost and he has never been less prepared for anything in his long, long life.
Your mouth has fallen open into a soft “o” as you look at him, brows knitted together as you take in every imperfect aspect of his being.
“Lo?” you whisper. Your voice hasn’t changed.
“Logan,” he replies, gruff, unsure if he’s confirming or correcting. But fuck does it sound good to hear his name out of your mouth again, even if it’s just a syllable.
You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear and take a seat on one of the logs which has been pulled up as a makeshift bench. He tries not to watch the way the fire lights up your eyes. There’s an agonisingly long pause before you finally attempt conversation.
“Long time no see, huh?” you ask with a weak grin. Fuck. It’s like a dagger. Your humour was always something which endeared you to him. Unlike Wade you never took it too far, cultivating your sincerity with your silliness in order to grow yourself into peoples’ hearts.
His heart especially, and now it aches.
He grunts, because he can’t bring himself to actually say anything. Can barely look at you. You keep talking, either not noticing or barrelling on regardless.
“You know, when the gang said that you were here… I didn’t believe it. Thought there was no way a fucking Wolverine would fall into this place.”
“Let me guess,” he sneers, taking another long drag of bourbon, “I’m not what you expected.”
You laugh, an easy little thing, and part of him hates you for it. For reminding him of how it sounds.
“I mean, you’re not. But not because of what you’re thinking.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking?” It comes out as a snap, lip curling back over his teeth in disgust. You do not look bothered in the least, just crossing one leg over the other and leaning back.
“Because I know you, Logan. Knew my Logan too. Bet you’re spiralling, making yourself out to be some kinda disappointment. Well you’re not. You could never be.”
He desperately wants to argue but he simply doesn’t have the gumption. Besides, it’s nice to hear someone say something kind about him after all these years.
“So,” you say after another one of those painful pauses, “considering every time you look my way you wince, you have a me in your timeline?”
He laughs without any humour in it, stares into the flames for so long they start to hurt his eyes.
“Yeah. I did.”
“Ahh. ‘Did’. I died, then?”
You say it so flippantly, he can’t fucking stand it.
“Mmm.”
“Makes sense. Don’t think I’d leave you in any timeline, so the only way I could see us ending would be if I wasn’t there any more.” You sigh, stretching your legs out to warm them. “Can I ask how it happened? Call it morbid curiosity.”
He absolutely does not want to talk about this. But, also… it’s you. Maybe not the you that was his, exactly, but it is you. Perhaps you deserve to know. He tries to stay dispassionate, as if he is a doctor quietly recounting the facts of death to a family member.
“Mansion was attacked. Everyone died, including you. I wasn’t there. We’d had a fight, I went out drinking. When I got back you were gone.” He flexes his fist around the neck of the bottle, trying to avoid shattering it, but desperately needing to hold onto something.
“Oh.” The fire crackles loudly. “What did we fight about?”
This will kill him. He will die in this Void.
“You wanted to do another round of IVF. I didn’t want to be disappointed again.”
The words settle like a cloud of choking ash over the two of you. He takes a long drink. What a fucking failure he is, couldn’t even knock you up properly.
“Fuck, Logan. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah.”
“Does it help if I tell you I probably wasn’t that mad? I’ve never been really angry with you, you know. My Logan… we used to bicker a lot, we both had short fuses, but it never meant anything in the long run.”
He doesn’t know if it does help or not. Is it better to know that you died hating him, making it easier? Or that you were snuffed out while loving him the whole time?
“Your turn,” he says, because he can’t bear to continue this particular line of conversation, but for some reason he wants to keep talking to you. Your voice is a comfort he thought he’d long since lost.
“You wanna see a picture?” you ask, a grin pulling at the sides of your mouth. No, he doesn’t, but when you reach into your jacket to grab the photograph, he finds himself holding his hand out to take it. You slowly float it over, telekinesis absolutely unnecessary - but you always did use it to make the little things easier.
It’s old. Frayed and disintegrating at the edges, a thing which has been held and looked at over and over again. Faded slightly despite the fact that you clearly try to take good care of it.
“Oh,” he says, eyes widening. You chuckle.
“I know.”
Because, despite the lack of facial hair and addition of a decent rack, the woman with her arm around you in the photo is him.
The Logan in the picture is about as butch as they come, decked out in a Wolverine’s trademark flannel and leather. One of her arms is wrapped around you to keep you close against her, the other playfully flipping the camera off with a middle claw, and she’s laughing with a joy he hasn’t seen on his own face for years. You’re pressing a kiss into her cheek and hanging onto one of her thick biceps. The two of you exude happiness.
“She was the best thing that ever happened to me. She could be a mean cunt sometimes, smoked like a chimney, drank like a fish, but fuck we were the centres of each other’s world.” You let out a long sigh and hold your hand out - Logan goes to give you the photo but instead you gesture for the bourbon. He passes it and you and you drink deeply, gratefully. “I’d been in a string of bad relationships. Guys who took me for granted, women who were toxic but I didn’t realise until I was in too deep. Then she came along and well… she was a fucking angel in plaid.”
Logan’s thumb absentmindedly strokes the photo. He’s pretty sure there’s a near-identical one back in his timeline.
“Our mansion was attacked too. She died getting the kids out.”
Fuck. Fuck. No, he can’t do this. He can’t face the way he should have died. He really is the fucking worst Wolverine. He snatches the bottle back from you, you give no resistance, and he polishes it off. The photo flutters to the ground.
“I think it’s time you fucked off,” he growls out. You roll your eyes, fucking roll your eyes at him, something his version of you did on pretty much a daily basis, and the knife in his heart twists further.
“Well, Logan, I’m not gonna do that. Because this conversation is the most whole I’ve felt in a long time, and I’m pretty sure you feel the same way.”
He doesn’t. He does. He wants you to disappear forever. He wants to hold you close and kiss you, beg you never to leave again. He hates you. He loves you so, so much.
He’s such a ruined man that it is laughable.
“So what, I come along and just replace your little girlfriend? First Wolverine that you manage to get your hands on; is that what you’re hoping for?”
You bark out a laugh. It echoes around the trees. There are tears in your eyes when he turns to look.
“Girlfriend? Logan, you were my fucking wife!”
It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that the laughter engulfs you, peals of giggles that double you over. You hold your head in your hands and it soon turns to bitter sobs. He wants to reach out and hold you, apologise for ever making you sad. He tries to get any lingering drops from the bourbon instead.
“We got married at the mansion. Charles officiated. The kids made us cards. We didn’t get a honeymoon because we didn’t have the fucking time. We had five years. Five really happy years and you know what? We wanted a baby too. We were getting a donor lined up! And then when the attack happened you were the one getting all the kids out I begged you to come with us but you were too fucking good, you had to stay behind and make sure nobody followed us. And it cost you your fucking life. They ripped you apart Logan. I know because all I found of you was your head and your wedding ring. I didn’t even get time to mourn because I had a dozen children to fucking take care of! And I did because I knew that’s what you’d want me to do. It’s what you died for. So I lived in the fucking woods with all of them for years, and they were my family, and I made sure they were as safe and happy as I could make them. And you know what happened then? When they were all grown? A fucking TVA agent appears out of nowhere and tells me, ‘oops! Sorry! Your Logan wasn’t supposed to die, it was meant to be you!’ So they fucking throw me in this hellhole to rot away into nothing and I’m sorry, Logan, I’m sorry that when I heard you were here I got my fucking hopes up that you might be happy to see me, because if there was one person who understood all of the shit I’m going through then it might be you.” You throw your head back up to stare him dead in the eyes. “And it’s pathetic because you know what? Even after all this? I’m still not angry with you. I’m still happy you’re here. Because seeing you makes me feel better, despite everything.”
It’s a long-ass rant, and your words hang in the air after you’re done. He doesn’t know what to say. What can he say? He opens his mouth to apologise but the words just won’t come out. Because, yeah, if he really dissects himself and looks at the parts laid bare, he’s glad you’re here too.
He reaches down to rescue the photo before an ember lands on it, gingerly extending into you. When you take it back his fingers brush yours. He wishes he wasn’t wearing gloves.
“Who was the donor?” he asks eventually. That does a lot to alleviate the mood, and you smile through tear-streaked cheeks.
“You might not like the answer.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t tell me it was Scott.”
“The two of you got on okay! Butted heads a lot but he was always a good friend to us. Plus it was cheaper than going through an agency.”
He growls to himself and it makes you laugh, but properly this time. Things have started to soften and it’s… nice. To be like this with you again. You pause for a moment, stuck on whether to ask a question; hesitate over whether it’s a good idea, then barrel on regardless.
“Can I ask a weird question?”
“You’re dangerously close to sounding like Wade,” he replies. You groan at that idea.
“Ugh. Fucking Deadpools, man. We get one come along every now and then and trash the place before fucking off again. Apparently there’s like, a tribe of them out there somewhere.” You give a full-body shudder. “Imagine. No, it’s nothing like that, I guess. Can you… can you take off your glove? Left one.”
He has a horrible feeling about this but when you ask so nicely, that air of vulnerability around you, well it just seeps into his fractures and breaks him open. It takes a moment but he does, flexing his bare hand in the cool air.
You reach around your neck and pull at a thin chain he’d barely noticed. The ring at the end slides up from where it’s been resting on your sternum under your shirt, glinting as you remove it.
“Give me your hand.”
This is a bad idea.
He does anyway.
You slip the ring on his fourth finger, softly twisting it to fit over his knuckle as you go. It is the perfect size.
“Will you look at that,” you mumble, not releasing your grip on him. “She… you always told me your hands were kinda big because of the claws. Like I cared. One of my favourite parts about you.”
Your fingers trace along his, finding the spaces between them and gently slotting your hands together. Logan isn’t sure if he’s the one who closes the grasp or if it’s you, but a beat passes and suddenly you’re holding hands.
He’s not done this with you for so fucking long. An age of aching which is relieved at the feeling of your palm up against his.
“So now what?” he eventually has to ask. You smile.
“Well, I mean, your Deadpool is probably gonna get us all killed tomorrow…”
“Ugh. Don’t call him ‘my Deadpool’.”
“… so I’d quite like to just spend tonight holding your hand, if that’s okay. Seems like a pretty nice final night to me.”
When you hit him with those soft eyes, what other fucking choice does he have?
You don’t speak much for the rest of the night. Eventually the fire dies out. Laura comes to seek you out the next morning, and is surprised to find you lying side by side with this other Logan, the most deeply asleep she’s ever seen you, fingers laced together so tightly with his it looks like it might hurt.
He comes to the fight, of course; dredging up what little courage he has left in him in order to prove he’s not totally pathetic. You catch his eye and smile so wide that he feels likes he’s done at least one good fucking thing in his life. He hears the sound of you ripping into people with an enthusiasm he hasn’t witnessed for years. The last glimpse of you he gets before he jumps through the portal is you using your telekinesis to tear a man’s head off and he does not want to examine himself too closely when it sends a jolt of arousal down his spine.
They leave you all there to face the end, but everyone knew that’s what you were all getting into. There has been a net gain and loss of nil. He never had you again. Not really. Not for anything longer than a night, and maybe that will be enough.
Yes. That’s enough. It has to be.
When he tells Wade he’ll go into that room, when he volunteers to die, he does it with the knowledge he’ll be doing something good, finally. Something you’d be proud of him for doing. And with you waiting for him on the other end of oblivion it really doesn’t seem too bad a fate.
But then Wade does what he always does and fucks up his perfectly meticulous plan, and they both make it through, so he has to keep going.
When Wade asks the TVA agent to help the group of you they left behind, Logan is sure to add on that people should get the opportunity to go back to their timelines - surely it’s what you’d want (this oddly selfless request has Wade raising an eyebrow which he ignores). After all, why wouldn’t you want to go back? It’s where you belong. Where you’ll be happiest. Putting things nice and neatly back into their place after this whole fucked-up venture.
He doesn’t have you, but he’s still alive and wants to be, and that’s something. A lot more than he’s had for a long time now to be honest.
His life becomes this strange little thing that’s wrapped up with Wade’s. He sleeps on his pull-out sofa until he has somewhere proper to put down his roots. Tries to lay off the booze as much as he can even if each day is a fucking struggle. Makes steps towards finding a proper place for himself; even gets a job on the door at the bar across the street. It’s okay. One step at a time. He can put himself back together like that.
Imagine his surprise, then, when a week later there’s a knock at the door.
He assumes it’s Al who’s forgotten her keys, or is too drunk to fish them out of her purse after bingo, so opens it without really thinking.
The second time you’ve nearly stopped his heart in seven days.
“Hey,” you say.
“Oh,” is what he can manage. You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. Your go-to.
“Yeah. Sorry. I uh, followed you back, I suppose. The TVA were gonna send me home but I asked where you were and when the answer was ‘here’, well… didn’t make sense for me to be any place else.”
He blinks at you. After a beat of silence he can tell you hate, no doubt wondering if your choice was the wrong one, he lifts his hand to cup your face. You stiffen for a second and then nestle into his palm.
“You’re real,” he states. You press your hand to his.
“I am.”
He pulls you into his chest and you are more than willing to come. He feels the way you bury yourself into him, nose first, remembering what he smells like. Your arms wrap around him so tight it’s like you’re scared he will disappear when it should be the other way round: if anyone is dreaming it’s him. You bothered coming here for him. You uprooted your whole life for it.
He could hold you forever but the neighbours are nosy and the apartment is a mess. He presses his mouth close to your ear.
“Wanna get a coffee?”
You pull back to meet his gaze.
“I’d love that.” Your eyes drop and you pull a face. “Oh, uhh, you might wanna get changed first, though.”
He looks down and realises what shirt he’s wearing before letting out a groan, which gets you chuckling.
“Wilson’s letting me borrow his shirts until my first paycheck comes in. Just to slum around the apartment.”
“Oh, so you’re not ‘employee of the month at the dick sucking factory’?” You ask, reading the slogan on his tee.
“No. Looks like Wilson won out over me.”
The fact he’s made a joke hangs in the air for a moment and you burst into laughter, real actual laughter, and it’s the most beautiful fucking thing he’s ever heard.
He grabs the only plain shirt Wade has left out, slices off the sleeves just because, and grabs twenty dollars from his roommate’s wallet. Soon enough you’re sitting in the little café near his building. The sky is grey and overcast, just threatening to rain but not quite bothering, and the two of you are tucked away in a corner table while Taylor Swift plays over the sound system.
Logan does not like that he knows it’s Taylor Swift. This is what living with Wade has done to him.
You watch him with affectionate eyes across the table, making sure nobody is paying close attention before using your telekinesis to stir the little metal spoon around in your latte. You nod at his mug.
“You take coffee the same way as she did. Boring and black.”
Logan’s nostrils flare a little in a laugh.
“Yeah, and you take yours the same way too. So fucking dense with syrup that it’s not coffee at all.”
“Oh you were always such a coffee snob! ‘Babe you gotta try it plain first so you can appreciate the aroma’,” you say, putting on a gruff affectation as a parody of his voice.
“You do need to try it plain f—”
He’s interrupted when a sugar lump floats into the air from the pot in the middle of the table and launches itself at him, bouncing off of his pectoral. He cocks an eyebrow.
“Real mature, bub.”
“Grouch.”
“Contrarian.”
“I’m not a—” you pause, realising there’s no way to win against that accusation, and grin at him instead.
“Where are you staying?” he asks after a long drink. It’s not booze. He kinda wishes it was booze. But also, he knows it’s best not to go down that path again, for everyone’s sake.
“The mansion. Turns out I died in this timeline too, so you and I are two for two here” - there’s a hint of a smile at your own macabre observation - “but they were using my room for storage so they just let me have it back.” You grimace a little. “It’s been weird. It’s my space but it’s not, y’know?”
“I get that.”
He probably gets it better than anybody. Nice to have someone to share this strange, singular feeling with.
“You should come around. Laura’s there too, I know she’d be glad to see you too.”
“She settling in okay?”
“Yeah. It’ll take a while, but everyone has been really understanding and kind. I think she’ll thrive here.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
You give him a smile that lets him know you believe it. Your eyes cast over him, taking in this new, slightly more settled Logan, falling still when you see what’s pressed against his fourth knuckle.
“You’re still wearing the ring.”
“Oh,” he replies, surprised. Flexes his fingers as he looks at it. It’s been so comfortable there, so utterly unobtrusive and right, he hasn’t even noticed. “You want it back?”
A beat passes as you consider the question. Coffee is sipped. Another sugar added and stirred, perhaps just for show.
“I don’t know,” you settle on. “I kinda like seeing you wear it but… if you were gonna have my ring, I’d want it to be one that was meant for you.”
He lets that idea settle between the two of you. Suddenly, slowly, you’re reaching forward, laying your smaller hand over his thick, rough one.
“Logan. I want to be with you. In every way you’ll have me, all of it. I don’t know if it was fate or god or plain luck that threw us back together but I’m certain I don’t wanna waste this opportunity. I’d love you in every lifetime, in every timeline. I can’t be without you ever again, I think it would just kill me - and if I know you, you feel the same.”
He doesn’t even bother arguing because he does. When you turned up on his doorstep a scant couple of hours ago a part of his soul had been healed; your existence like kintsugi to piece him back together. A man made of adamantium and gold.
“I’d like that,” he manages.
“Yeah?” Your eyes glimmer with a hope which he’s not been privy to for a long time now.
“Yeah.”
“Well, okay then,” you say with a smile, and drink your coffee.
The two of you do not take it slow. How does one take it slow when your soulmate comes back into your life? You are not exactly the same person he once knew, but you understand each other in every way which matters. Your souls fit together like puzzle pieces. The two of you are whole again.
Then again, perhaps he doesn’t need the version of you he used to have. Maybe, now, he needs this you - rougher around the edges, a little older and more wary, a fit which is better for him. Someone who can put up with his bullshit as Al once bluntly put it.
You barely spend a night apart. You stay over with him on Wade’s pullout (inciting an input of, “something the two of you had better do, we can’t afford a kid on my income—!” before Logan had hurled a water bottle at him) meeting up with him after his shift is done in the small hours, getting something to eat at one of the greasy spoons which remain open. He devours full plates of fatty food; you stick to slices of pie which you feed him bites of from your fork. When you get back to the apartment you cuddle up on the uncomfortable mattress which folds from the sofa and fall asleep in each other’s arms.
He sleeps pretty well nowadays.
The two of you only realise you haven’t kissed yet when you do it for the first time. You’re making a coffee run, tugging on his jacket because you like the smell of cigar smoke and it’s thicker than yours. A little act of intimacy which has become commonplace.
“Same as usual?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Boring,” you make an exaggeration of a sigh, before leaning over the back of the sofa to press your lips to his. He automatically leans into it, tilting his head up so that he can meet you; it’s a chaste little thing, a peck between two people who will only be parted for a moment, but you pull back in surprise when you realise what’s just happened.
“Oh!” you say with delight, eyes sparkling.
Your hand slips around his neck to cradle him, fingers playing with the hair at his nape. You gently pull him back for another. Longer this time. Lips slip together, moving carefully in something a little deeper. When you break for a moment it’s Logan who pulls you back. This third kiss is on the brink of hungry. He slides his tongue to swipe against your mouth and you let out a happy little hum at the intrusion.
His arm curls around your back. With a little tug he pulls you over the back of the sofa and into his lap, making you yelp with glee. His mouth returns to yours, crushing, greedy for any little noises you’re able to make. You relax into it and are happy to take whatever he gives you.
Wade finds you making out on the couch like a pair of teenagers, coffee forgotten. He does not let Logan live it down for a week.
The apartment is fine, but not a long term solution. Wade and Al are constant presences that stops the two of you being fully at ease together. Logan knows that invitation to go to the mansion is always there, but it’s a while before he takes it - he really isn’t sure what he’ll feel, being back at a place he last saw burned to the ground because of his pigheadedness. Might just break him all over again.
But ah, when you nock your fingers in the spaces between his, he can face anything.
One night, exhausted and full of diner food, he agrees to go back to yours - the two of you have had a late night coffee meaning you’re still a tiny bit buzzed, a little too much to fall asleep on the pullout. Instead you get a taxi to yours, near enough, tipping the driver well when he drops you in the middle of a random street and choosing to walk the last minutes hand-in-hand.
The mansion is quiet. Everyone is mostly asleep. And Logan does feel strange being back here, but it isn’t a bad strange. Just another aspect of this new life he has to compartmentalise.
You drag him through low-lit halls, confident in the steps which will lead you back to your room; he recalls a similar journey from his own timeline in the night you first hooked up, smuggling him to your bed down the corridors all wandering hands and breathless kisses and giddy giggles; but there’s no part about you that wants to hide this.
You’d show your Logan off to the world.
You’ve tried to make the room your own, he can tell. It’s pretty big and spacious. Good view. Has an ensuite which he plans on monopolising. He shucks off his clothes and sleeps in just his boxers, arms holding you to him so he can feel every part of your body against his. His chest hair bristles between your shoulder blades and you hum contentedly.
He agrees to come to breakfast the next morning and, to their credit, people are good at not staring. The members of the team he recognises from his past keep their distance unless he seeks to close it. Hank gives him a smile.
“Good to see you, Logan.”
“Mmm,” he manages. Laura comes down to grab something to eat and lights up when she sees him. She gives him a hug which skews on the side of awkward but he’s grateful to receive it, and he can see how pleased you are watching this development.
He comes around more and more often.
Less time spent at the apartment with Wade - who constantly complains about the fact and Logan cannot tell if he’s sincere or not - more living in the pocket of you. He helps you sort out the furniture in the room so that there’s more space; you’re moving a chest of drawers to another corner together when a photo falls out from behind them. Trapped against the wall for years. Long forgotten.
“Oh,” you say, lifting it up and bringing it to your hand with a wave. Your face twists into something strange and bittersweet, a mask Logan isn’t quite sure how to comprehend, but he quickly understands why when he joins you.
It’s a picture of the two of you.
Not exactly the two of you, of course; the ones of you who lived in this timeline. Logan is posing on the back of his Harley, you’re propped up on the seat next to him with your head thrown back in laughter. The two of you look… young. This must have been taken when you first started going out.
Your thumb caresses the photo in a movement he’s familiar with.
“Huh. Looks like we were together here, too. Who’da thunk it,” you mutter.
He slips an arm around you then because he’s feeling oddly sentimental. It’s reassuring. No matter what timeline it is, there’s a you who loves him and a him who loves you. A simple and irrefutable truth, like the fact that the sun rises every day or the moon moves the tides.
“Apparently Magneto got me in the late noughties. Feels like a bit of a pathetic way to go, but diverging timelines, I guess.”
Logan knows that in this timeline, he stuck around for a while after. Poor bastard, he thinks. Having to live those years without you. That’s a misery he understands all too fucking well.
But not any more.
You leave the photo on your dresser, loathe to throw it away, and continue moving furniture to make room for the TV you just bought. Logan hates sharing the one in the living room, especially when the hockey’s on.
Eventually Logan is spending so much time with you he’s barely living at Wade’s any more. You’ve suggested they’d be happy to have him back in the mansion for a “teaching job” like you have, though he knows there’s never much teaching involved, more helping kids learn to defend themselves without too much collateral damage. Still it’s a fair chunk of change better than his current miserable doorman’s salary and it means he’d be living at more sociable hours.
Plus he’d get to move in with you, an idea you’re both secretly happy about.
So he hands in his notice at the bar and packs the scant few belongings he has at Wilson’s into a cardboard box from Bad Dragon, which is strangely the only one Wade could find him (“god Peanut that’s so weird, oh well!”). Looks around the apartment he’s called home for some time, feels not entirely pleased to be leaving it.
“And remember sweetie, if it all goes incredibly wrong and you realise the place you’ve belonged the whole time is on my undoubtedly piss-soaked pull out sofa bed, Al and I will be happy to have you back with minimal taunting.”
Logan fixes him with a look.
“Wilson?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.” The word is odd coming from his mouth but not insincere. Wade goes to say something that’s no doubt stupid and inappropriate, however he softens at the last moment.
“Any time. Go get ‘em, tiger, I’m rooting for you.”
You’ve moved your stuff so he can have a side of the closet, and drawers in the dresser, and he resumes his life with you.
It takes only a couple of days for him to settle and realise how much he prefers this. Living with you properly. How, really, he couldn’t stand to be apart from you. How he wants to be there for every second, hear every laugh which drips from you, comfort you whenever something threatens to ruin your happiness.
He falls asleep with you wrapped in his arms every night. Wakes up with you there. Pretty fucking perfect if you ask him.
There’s nothing special about the morning when you first make love except for the fact it’s the morning when you first make love. It’s a border the two of you haven’t quite crossed yet. Almost as if you’re both afraid to make the commitment, like it may break you apart; there’s perhaps an underlying fear that you’re being unfaithful to your partners from your own timelines. That being together like that dishonours their memory.
It’s a salve, then, that the longer you’ve been together the more you realise that you don’t love each other as a stand-in for the ones who died, but entirely on each other’s own merits. He doesn’t look at you and see the body he held in the manor. He sees someone who he’d protect, give his life to, become a dog for because he’s utterly in love with this you, the one who was so happy to find him in the Void, the one who patched him back together when he was at his most broken.
There’s nothing to second guess in this relationship. It is the most solid foundation he’s ever had, and from the way you look at him every morning as if he’s hung the stars, you feel the same.
That morning he’s holding you particularly tight. It’s a Sunday, the quietest day at the mansion, and the two of you are in bed later than you’d usually be. You’re both awake because you’re pressing more and more into each other’s bodies, nestling together like nesting dolls. His arm slung around your waist, hips against the swell of your ass.
You shift slightly and he feels his cock harden in interest. Why wouldn’t it? Most beautiful person in the whole world right here in his bed. He might be old but he’s not a fool.
He’s aware your hips are moving again, pressing yourself into him harder. He lets out a quiet, gruff laugh.
“You’re doing that on purpose.”
“Mmm, maybe I am, Howlett. What are you gonna do about it?”
You squeak with laughter as he surges upwards, pinning your hands to the mattress either side of your head so that he can look down at you. Such a pretty picture beneath him. Hair all fanned out, eyes sleepy and sexy, ready to take in the syrupy-slow pace of the morning.
His lips press into yours softly but firm. You hum into the kiss, slipping your wrists from his grasp so that you can wrap your arms around his broad neck and tug him closer. Your legs slowly match pace, looping at his waist. His cock is free to press against your clothed core now and he doesn’t waste a second of the opportunity; he grinds down, never letting it distract from the kiss for a second, even smiling into it when he can feel the blunt head of his dick catch your clit. You gasp.
“Logan…”
Oh yes, that’s it. That’s the voice. He could listen to you say his name a million times and it would still be the sweetest sound in the whole fucking universe.
He kisses you again and again, getting more fierce now. Tongues slide together and you moan into his mouth. Teeth clack with the force of it. He wants every sense to be drowned in you. Your smell, your taste, your touch. You’re holding him so tightly it’s like you’re worried you’ll just float away from the bliss of it all.
He’d never let that happen. He’ll keep you right here in this bed, forever, if you’d let him.
With a display of telekinesis he’s not expecting, Logan finds himself on his back. You stare down at him with wide, hungry eyes, and he’s never been more turned on in his entire life.
“Can I suck your cock?” you ask breathlessly, and he finds himself huffing out a laugh because fuck, as if you’d ever have to ask. You take his meaning and giggle before you start to make your way down the plain of his chest. A kiss dropped on the top of his pectoral, followed by you moving that sweet mouth around one of his nipples to play with it. Logan huffs and arches into your touch like a schoolgirl. You use your teeth to continue the trail, tracing around his abs - which have become less pronounced ever since he started eating right, and you’ve often expressed your pleasure at this fact - mouthing at where his muscles shape his Apollo’s belt.
Your hand goes to palm his cock through his boxers and he has to make a concentrated effort not to come. It’s been a while since he was touched properly like this, and though he used to be able to go all night when he was a younger man, he truly doesn’t know if he has it in him today.
You seem delighted by this development though. Holding his gaze you slowly drag his waistband down to his thighs, watching in delight as his cock bobs up, half-hard. You take him in hand and pump him lazily, languidly, enjoying every stroke which makes him firmer. You prop yourself up on your free arm, elbow on the mattress and palm cradling your jaw, eyes on him like he’s the show of the century.
“Handsome, handsome, handsome man,” you sigh, dreamily.
“Old man,” he chuckles.
“Not mutually exclusive.”
He has to concede that with the way you’re looking at him like you might eat him alive.
When he feels your mouth around his cock his brain almost short-circuits. It’s warm and wet and willing, your tongue gliding along the thick vein you find there before caressing his head. Logan grunts, fisting the blankets, and a familiar snik has you looking up. You grin around his shaft when you see his claws have popped out from the intensity of his gripping hands.
Pleased, you continue with your work. You bob up and down as the fire builds in his belly, a low heat which is soon bubbling over when he feels you press the tip of your tongue into his slit, humming with pleasure as the taste of his pre floods you. Logan is aware he’s beginning to tighten in a way which suggests that if you don’t stop now things will be over entirely too soon.
Claws retracting, his hand comes to grab your hair. His cock is enveloped in the sweet velvet of your throat, in fact he can feel himself brush against your uvula, and when you look up at him like that he almost gives up completely. He powers through though, carefully guiding you up and off. You wipe your spit-soaked mouth with the back of your hand.
“Oh… was it not…?” you don’t voice the word ‘good’ but it hangs there anyway. Logan rumbles with a laugh.
“Fuck, it was the best thing I’ve felt in years. Wanna fuck you properly, though. Come up here and sit on my face, baby. Need to taste you.”
Your eyes go wide. Like he’s come up with the idea of the century.
“Fuck. Yeah, okay.”
There is nothing elegant about the way you pull yourself up the length of his body, but it is filled with a primal need which is far more sexy. You pause at his abdomen in order to rub your soaked cunt across his abs a couple of times. Fucking the muscles there. You throw your head back in gratification and continue up along his chest before a strong thigh is planted either side of his face.
Looking up at you from his back is his favourite view. Logan wastes no time in clamping an arm around either one of your legs and pulling you cunt-first onto his tongue, you gasp and writhe in delight.
“Oh fuck, Logan!” you hiss. Yeah, that’s it. That’s the voice he wants to hear. All strung out with sex and pleasure because of him. He fucking buries himself in you. Kisses your pussy sloppily, changing his attention from between your clit and your folds, no rhythm to his need. When your fingers scratch his scalp in your need to grab a fistful of hair he thinks he might be in heaven. His hips buck into the air, imagining the action of taking you before he’s even properly started. You start to fuck yourself on his face. Hips grinding down onto his beard, groaning at the stubble there which prickles and pleases.
“I’m gonna--”
“Fuckin’ do it,” he mumbles from between your legs. You cum in his hot, wanting mouth; all the furniture in the room rattles as you let out a little involuntary telekinetic jolt.
You are not done. This was the appetiser. Eyes still ravenous you peel your pussy off of his face, sweeping down to kiss him so you can taste yourself there. Moaning in delight at the musk.
“Wanna ride you…”
“Anything,” he breathes because, yeah. He will do anything you ask, anything you want. He’s a loyal hound at your heel.
When you take his cock it’s with less teasing this time, more intent. Spreading your legs wide you line him up with your entrance and slowly sink down. He wants to grab. Your flesh, the blankets, anything. Sensing his desperation you hold out your hands when he’s far enough inside you and he meets them in midair, pressing his fingers between yours, knuckles white from the effort.
Hips nestle against his. You begin to move.
“Logan…”
Your name leaves his lips in a similar whisper, dragged out through his throat from his very heart. You look down at him, eyes clear and wide and lucid despite the heady pleasure.
“Logan. I love you. I love you.”
Yes, you love this him. Not as a stand in for the Logan you lost, not as some sort of idol on a pedestal, but because you’ve fallen for him just like he’s fallen for you. He is worth loving. He is. He is worthy of you. It is a realisation which hits him with the force of a bomb. He grips you tighter.
“I love you too,” he confesses. He feels his pulse sync with yours from where he’s sheathed inside you, grips your hands tighter because he knows you can take it; you hold him back just as hard. Your hips rock in a wild rhythm as he brings his own up to meet them. It’s hard to know who’s fucking who, it’s wild and desperate and raw, but you keep chanting those words as a manta.
Logan. I love you. Logan. I love you.
He only lets go of one of your hands when he can feel he’s about to finish, dropping it to your clit in order to press rough circles there. You come messily over his cock and he spills inside you, pumping you full of him. Marking you as his.
You collapse into his arms, sweaty and spent. He holds you with arms like iron. Cock still inside, softening now, but he doesn’t want to to break the contact.
You pull back after a moment of breathing together, propping your elbow on his chest.
“Hey.”
He smiles back, a real smile, something he’s not been truly able to produce for years.
“Hey.”
“I meant it, you know. I love you,” you trace a pattern on his collarbone, silly and intimate.
“I know. So did I.”
“Mmm, okay, good.” You kiss him and hum into it. “We should get up.”
“Probably.”
“But let’s not.”
“Sounds fuckin’ good to me.”
You laugh, and oh you are the sunlight.
The summer heat is cloying but Wade has set up some parasols on the top of his building to hide under, he did not specify where he got them but a few local restaurants seemed to be without on the journey back to the apartment. The group of you are definitely not meant to be up here, but with the weather so hot, nobody cares enough to cause a fuss.
It’s a small gathering. Logan stands at the grill because it’s where he’s most comfortable, supervising the chaos. That awful mutt of Wade’s is looking up at him with expectant eyes and, when he’s sure nobody is watching, he throws her a hamburger which she goes crazy for.
And it’s… nice. He didn’t even complain when Wade put on the 1989 album. A few of his old roommate’s friends, a couple of them now mutual - Piotr is a pretty relaxed guy to be in the mansion with, and the two teens who Wade somehow befriended get along with Laura. You’re talking with Peter who for some reason is always at these gatherings but he’s probably the least offensive person here.
He says something which makes you laugh, and you look over to Logan as you both settle. You gesture at the bottle of soda in your hand, an invitation; he nods.
You stand, rummage in the cooler, and close the gap. He eyes the glass bottle of Dr Pepper with disapproval; you give him a playful shove.
“C’mon, be good. You just got your one month chip. Keep it up, we’re proud of you.”
He grumbles his acceptance and takes it. It is pretty refreshing to be fair. He settled the hand he’s not using on the grill around your waist, pulling you so that you settle nice and snug against his flank. You grin up at him, pleased with the show of affection.
“Hey handsome,” you chuckle.
“Hey gorgeous.”
“You make me the happiest I’ve ever been, you know that?”
Day by day he’s letting himself believe it. That he’s the kind of man who could make someone as amazing as you happy, as over-the-moon with joy as you make him.
Before he can answer Yukio appears by the grill, pointing a Polaroid camera in your faces.
“Smile!” she says, and the two of you do, because she’s a nice kid and you don’t wanna let her down. She snaps a photo and watches it quickly develop, shaking it loudly in the air before admiring her work.
“Awww, cute! I hope me and Ellie are like you guys when we’re your age. Here ya go!”
She passes over the photo before skipping away to find her next victim. Logan has to try and hide a laugh at the indignant splutters that are escaping you.
“Our age…?!” you mutter, but soften when you look down at the picture. It’s nice. The two of you make a good-looking pair that’s for damn sure, he can almost understand Wade’s insistence of “letting him watch one night”. But most importantly, the two of you look… happy. With each other. With this slice of life.
“This is a great one,” you declare.
“Yeah,” he says, but he’s looking at you.
When you get home tonight, late by the time you pull up to the mansion, you’ll toe off your shoes as you walk in through the door like you always do, but this time you’ll pause to put this photo in front of the one you found behind the chest of drawers, and Logan will feel content that he never has to be without you again.
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#my writing#james logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x reader#logan x reader#wolverine x reader#x men x reader#logan howlett imagine#marvel x reader#marvel imagine#marvel fanfiction#mcu fanfiction#mcu imagine#wolverine fanfiction#mcu fandom
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Direwolf.
Cregan Stark x wife!reader
Summary: Cregan's direwolf is spoiled by the reader.
A/n: Based on ask! Also I'm running a fever, so I'm praying this makes sense
Masterlist
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"Perhaps it was an idiotic thought from the start," Cregan mutters as he views the sight before him.
His sweet wife sat on the ground of the dining hall, lavishing their dire wolf in affection.
Well, Cregan's direwolf.
Well, it was supposed to be Cregan's.
He had found the wolf not long before he became the Lord of Winterfell. Now, after almost seven years with the animal, their bond was inseparable.
So when Cregan's wife joined the mix, Cregan was nervous.
But she had a love for Dark Night, as did the large beast for her.
"I find it sweet," the Maester said with a light smile. "It is important the two get along, isn't it? Better than fighting for your attention, I'd wager."
"That's the thing," Cregan sighed. "Neither of them needs my attention. They're content on their own."
The maester chuckled, looking at the sight of the woman and wolf before excusing himself.
Cregan walked to the pair, holding his hand out to his wife. "C'mon, sweet girl."
Y/n looked up with a smile and took his hand, brushing off dust from her skirt as she did so.
Dark Night let out a low coo, sitting up and nuzzling at her thigh.
"Seems I'll have to fight for even a moment with you," Cregan smiled as he tucked his face into her neck.
She let out a soft giggle. "Don't be so upset, Cregan. You know you always have my heart."
He chuckled with her, pulling away and leading her to the dining table, pulling out her chair before sitting across from her.
The two talked of mundane things as usual: their day, the problems of the North, ideas they had, anything and everything.
Finally, Cregan tilted his head with a furrowed brow. "What are you doing?"
She looked at him with wide eyes, as if caught in a horrid lie. "N…nothing."
He simply stared, his hands resting atop the table. "Are you feeding Dark Night under the table?"
She reaches to pick something off of her plate, lowering it below the table. "No?"
He leaned back in his chair with an incredulous look and a chuckle, "You little minx. He eats enough, you know that."
"Well, yes, but," she gave a shrug. "He just looks at me so pitifully, I cannot say no."
She reached up to grab more, but Cregan stopped her, "Don't."
She paused, "Cregan-"
"-Do not spoil that damn dog. He is fine."
Before long, Dark Night's large head weighed down on Cregan's lap from under the table, a longing look in the animal's eyes.
Cregan looked down at him with a tight lip and a shaking head, "Your methods may work on our sweet girl, but you will get nothing from me."
The wolf nuzzled in more, trying to get Cregan's attention still.
Finally, Cregan waved his hand out at the wolf, "Get. Go on. You have already been fed today."
Dark Night accepted the defeat and left the dining hall, an obvious annoyance in the way he walked.
"Now," Cregan sighed. "Let us try to speak again."
…
A few hours later, Cregan entered their chambers in pure exhaustion.
The day had been longer than he had hoped, and he wanted nothing more than time with his wife.
Seeing her curled up on the sofa next to the fireplace warmed something inside of him.
He came from behind, leaning down to place a kiss on the crown of her head.
She hummed, looking up from her book. "Hello, lovely."
A small whine sounded in the room.
Cregan's brow furrowed as he scanned the room for his wolf.
"Why is he on the bed?"
She leaned forward, looking over her shoulder to see that the wolf had indeed found a comfortable place on their bed. She shrugged, "He was there when I got here. I didn't have the heart to move him."
Cregan gripped her shoulders from behind, gently massaging them. "I've had this wolf years, and never has he even been allowed the notion that being upon the bed was allowed."
She smiled as she looked over her shoulder at Cregan this time, "He's been so wonderful today. Let him stay."
He leaned down to her ear, a teasing smile across his face, "Why should I?"
She let out a hum. "Please, Cregan."
"Please what?" He teased.
Her head leaned back against the back of the sofa, "You know what you're doing, Lord Stark."
He smirked, leaning up and moving to the bed, "Up."
Dark Night lifted his head to look at Cregan.
Y/n immediately gets off of the couch, "Cregan."
"I mean it," he complains. "That dog cannot run this castle."
"He's not," she comes as she moved to Dark Night, petting his fur.
"My love, he-" Cregan froze completely, eyeing the dog. "A collar? You've bought him a collar?"
She smiled sheepishly. "Perhaps."
Cregan crosses his arms, looking up at the ceiling for a moment as he bit the inside of his cheek in thought. "Gods, you're gonna be the death of me."
"He's being so sweet, Cregan. Look at him!"
Cregan looked down, seeing his sweet wife practically laying on the large animal.
He shook his head, a large smile coming across his face. "As long as there is still room for your husband."
"Oh, always, Cregan."
…
Cregan woke up in the night, pulling at the blanket that would not move. He leaned up on his elbows, seeing the giant dire wolf that laid on his wife's feet, holding the blanket down underneath him.
Cregan heaved a great sigh, but inside, he really didn't mind.
He was glad the two greatest things in his life cared for each other. It made his occasional absence to the Wall less guilt wracked.
He knew they'd keep each other warm until he came back.
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#fanfiction#cregan stark x reader#cregan stark x you#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones fanfiction#game of thrones x y/n#game of thrones imagine#cregan stark x y/n#house of the dragon#house of the dragon fanfiction#cregan stark imagine#cregan x reader#cregan stark#cregan stark fanfic#hotd cregan#cregan fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfic#hotd fanfic
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DP x DC prompt [3]
during one of the final psych evals at Arkham right before he gets to be released, the whole thing wrapped up so tidy, just a little relapse which involved a robbery. Getting sent back to Arkham, but he got to stay at the asylum so long that he no longer has to serve a prison sentence, score!
But during that eval his overseeing psychiatrist recommended him to have a change of scenery, some fresh non polluted air.
Riddler was rather convinced the guy was making this recommendation to everyone in Arkham in their own weird way to convince them to just leave Gotham and become someone else's problem. should he notify Batman about it somehow? nah, it’ll be more interesting to see how this is gonna turn out in the long run.
But can he leave the state? Can he even leave the city? he never really bothered to look into it, at least not legally, up until now if he felt he needed to leave for one of his plans he just did it.
Turns out he can, it’s a whole hassle and a half though, first a judge and then a probation officer and he’s pretty sure both were like “what the hell is this psychiatrist guy thinking!?” but at the same time, shrink probably knows what he’s doing (WRONG) so he’s allowed to go visit out of state family or whatever.
he had to wear this nice ankle monitor though, Wayne Enterprises™ tech, not overly bulky but still very present. real fancy, and a fun extra challenge heh.
now as for a good reason to leave New Jersey he’s going to need distant relatives, and he finds some, great grandpa walker also has a son, who had a son who had a daughter Madeline, who married some guy Jack Fenton, and she lives somewhere out in the boonies Illinois. great he’ll visit her.
far enough away in all sense of the word that there is no way she knows anything about him. it would be best to call her first though, be polite about it.
“hello, you have reached Fenton works, this is Maddie speaking”
“Riddle me this-” ah whoops, habit, oh whatever, “we don’t share parents, but certainly a part of your life, from laughter to strife. Who am I?”
there is a pause … he’s going to be a bit disappointed if she hangs up if he’s honest.
“cousins~” comes the cheery reply.
“correct! the name is Edward Nygma, we are distantly related you and I and well-”
“oh you simply must come visit!”
well this was rather easy, perhaps a little too easy, but she lives in the midwest so maybe just going with whatever some guy says over the phone is normal there? stranger danger not really a thing in a small town where everyone knows everyone?
things start to make a little more sense once he gets there and he’s starting to think some things might run in the family. like a preference for the colour green and weird hyperfixations and genius bordering on insanity. Though that remains to be seen, Jack does not seem like a very bright light after his very enthusiastic welcome.
their kids however are observant and sharp. young Jasmine is wasting no time trying to psychoanalyze him. and the boy, Danny, he had not really meant to and he swears he’s sticking with calling the kid Danny so he wouldn’t seem overly familiar, but he might have called him little bird a couple times now.
but that’s all whatever, he’s playing nice here. and he doesn’t even have to worry about his eccentricities tripping him up because this place is insane.
There actually is a local teen vigilante active but he seems about as loved as he’s disliked. and the ghost boy’s enemies are basically all his own kind, which another crazy thing to now know about. ghost. they are real actually, how is Gotham not completely overrun? and how do they even work? and where do they keep coming from?
Edward might be getting a little sidetracked here. He had fully intended to sneakily get his next big game plan underway all the way out here, ankle monitor be damned. but he hasn’t made any progress at all.
Instead he’s been listening to Madeline and Jack to maybe figure out what the deal is with these ectoplasmic entities, he has to know, at this point he might go crazier if he doesn’t.
He’s making Jasmine promise him not to get her doctorate in Gotham, he’s going back and forth with space riddles with Danny.
so yeah the whole thing kinda just became a vacation, maybe the psychiatrist had the right idea after all? hmm nah, probably not. but this is fun. He’s thinking about recommending this place to some of the others.
It's different enough to get the vacation feel, but enough crazy shit happens to make it all feel like home.
it is not until Maddie wants to talk with him about potentially switching the position of godfather of Danny to him rather than some weird rich friend of theirs that Edward realizes he might have lost the plot somewhere
Apparently the little bird basically begged them with a powerpoint presentation on how he likes Edward so much more than that Vladimir guy.
And honestly, the fellow sounds like a Dracula Lutho so even if it’s kinda sad Edward can understand why he’d be considered a better option. Even if the guy has more money and a huge company that makes him said money. And it’s not like the Fentons know about his Riddler activities.
Thinking it over, Edward does think that Danny would like Gotham and Wayne has that space program thing right? The kid is definitely smart enough for that (Nygma certified), and yeah Edward does quite like their space themed back and forth. So, fuck it, why not, what is the worst that could happen?
He doubts Maddie and Jack are gonna kick it any time soon anyway out here in the boonies, it’s just a title thing, a stamp of approval or something.
he should have known he was going to eat those words later… he had this whole beautifully elaborate trap set up for the whole Batclan, and he was just getting to the good part when his phone went off.
Had to put the whole thing on pause cause that particular contact wasn’t gonna get ignored. He did promise to be available.
If the whole thing he had planned now went tits up he could at the very least laugh later at the reactions of the bats as he told them to “hold up one second, I have to take this.” while they were all in various perilous positions.
Sadly he did have to go, he had a very distressed godson to pick up.
#dc x dp#danny phantom#dcxdp#dpxdc#danny fenton#The Riddler#jasmine fenton#madeline fenton#jack fenton#edward nygma#Story idea#it took me annoyingly long to figure out how to add a read more line btw#I was going to add some other things as well but I didn't want it to get super long#I imagine Vlad was absolutely furious about losing his godfather status#but our boy Eddie just runs circles around him and humiliates him every step of the way#there is only one vampire themed guy that can put the Riddler in his place and you ain't it chief#also I was planning on adding a thing where Edward ends up in the ghost zone somehow#which makes his ankle monitor go off#notifying the bats#because he either somehow managed to destroy the thing in an instant without making any of the build in warnings go off#or he's no longer on the planet
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can you pleaseeee do some angst with pogue!sweetheart!reader, like she overhears some of the girls at the country club talking about her and saying things like “i don’t know what rafe see’s in her, she’s still a pogue.” and rafe possibly reassuring her? thank you!
warnings: bullying (?), classist comments, slight fluff
a/n: i got carried away (like always lol) leave requests if you’d like!
“rafe, as much as i love you, i don’t think i can stand out here much longer.” you fanned yourself, using your hand to block the sun from hitting your face. rafe and topper were currently playing golf while you played cart girl for them, the summer heat quickly becoming far too hot for you to handle. rafe paused their game, jogging over to you as he took his wallet out of the pocket of his pants.
“start up a tab at the bar, go ahead and cool off, baby.” you accepted his card, silently asking ‘are you sure?’ before he pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips. “go, on.” rafe reassured you, smiling to himself as he watched you make your way inside the country club.
you couldn’t help but sigh in relief when a gust of cool air blew past you, immediately ordering a virgin piña colada as you took a seat at the rather empty bar. rafe loved to bring you over to the country club, especially since you pretty much knew everyone from all the times you came to sell your baked goods, although it wouldn’t hurt to make some actual friends instead of acquaintances.
speaking of friends, you spotted a table not too far away, all three girls already looking at you before you smiled at them. no one smiled back. clearing your throat awkwardly, you fiddled with the rings on your fingers as you waited for your drink to be made. “you see rafe out on the golf course today? he is just so handsome.” oh, god. your breath hitched, your heart dropping as you continued to listen in on their conversation.
“he is! why he’s dating some pogue baker girl? i’ll never know.”
“that’s literally her over there.”
you shut your eyes, wishing the ground could swallow you whole. “i mean.. she’s pretty and all, but at the end of the day she’s still a pogue.” the girl’s laughter echoed in your ears, your skin flush with embarrassment. “well, it’s obvious that she’s just a charity case. rafe probably feels bad for the girl.” the way they all collectively agreed with one another made tears prick at your eyes.
just when you thought the comments couldn’t get any worse, your jaw nearly dropped to the floor at the next accusation. “maybe he’s paying her to have sex with him or something. i could imagine she has to scrape for some kind of change if she lives on the cut.” you were crying now, refusing to let them see any kind of tears running down your face. “one virgin piña colada.” the bartender placed the pretty drink down in front of you, a round of laughter erupting from behind you.
“a virgin piña colada? what is she? twelve?”
deciding you couldn’t take it anymore, you left a cash tip on the counter and muttered a ‘put it on on rafe cameron’s tab, please.’ before leaving without sparing them a single glance. to say you were mortified would be an understatement. rafe was probably going to freak out once he saw that you just up and left, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stay there another second.
you didn’t even make it out of the parking lot when you heard rafe’s voice calling after you. “y/n!” he was panting when he finally got to you, “hey, wait a second baby.” you quickly wiped your eyes before turning around, your boyfriend immediately sensing something was wrong. “woah, woah, what happened?” rafe tucked your hair behind your ears, cupping your chin before using his thumbs to stroke your tear-stained cheeks.
“nothing, i just don’t feel so good-”
“it’s not that.” he cut in, eyes flickering between yours. “what happened?” rafe asked once again. you knew it was impossible to lie to him. “tell me, baby, so i can fix it.” his jaw clenched, blue orbs wide with concern. you laughed bitterly. “you can’t fix girls who gossip.” at your words, rafe blinked before looking back at the country club. “are you talking about the snobs at the table near the window?” rafe took your silence as his answer, nodding slowly before draping an arm across your shoulders.
“what did they say?” his voice was eerily calm as he walked you two over to his truck. “it’s stupid, really.” you sniffled, letting rafe place you in the passenger seat. he kept the door open, leaning on the frame as he took your hand in his. “tell me.” rafe’s voice was stern, his chest rising and falling with each breath. you sighed, avoiding his gaze as you spoke. “they said that you have to be paying me to have sex with you because apparently i’m ‘scraping’ for change since i live on the cut.”
rafe’s jaw ticked, his eyes narrowing as he took your words in. “is that it?” he cleared his throat, his vision slowly blinding him with white hot anger. “they also said that they couldn’t understand why you would want to be with a ‘pogue baker girl’.. maybe their right.” rafe’s head shot up at your last statement, his face twisting in confusion. “what are you talking about?” he took your hand in his.
“i’m not even worth half of what these girls are,” you bit your lip to keep yourself from crying again, “i don’t have rich parents, i don’t have a trust fund that ensures i don’t have to work a day in my life, who am i kidding?” you shook your head. rafe studied you for a moment. “you know what you do have?” he lifted your chin, “a heart.”
“that’s something that no amount of money can buy. you have something priceless, y/n. you carry it with you everywhere you go.” rafe pressed a kiss to your temple, mumbling a ‘i’ll be right back.’ before he shut your door. you were a mess after that, his words not only being a comfort to you, but affirming.
rafe was gone for a few minutes before he strided out of the country club, a new piña colada in his hand. “here. now we sit and wait.” you took the drink from him, taking a sip as you watched two security guards escort the group of girls out. “what did you do?” you relaxed in your seat, glancing between rafe and the scene before you.
“got them blacklisted from the club. their parents aren’t as rich as you think.” he laughed, moving his attention to you. “don’t ever question yourself like that again. please.” he turned the engine on. “where are we going?” you asked. “we are going to go get you your own card, with your own little ‘trust fund’, alright?” he nodded.
“you’ll never have to worry about anyone talking like that about you ever again.”
#❤︎₊ ⊹ works#₊˚⊹♡ pogue!sweetheart!reader#outer banks#outer banks smut#outer banks fanfiction#obx#obx smut#obx fanfiction#obx rafe#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron one shot#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x you#rafe fluff#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe smut#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#rafe fic#outerbanks rafe#rafe outer banks#drew starkey
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"Don't make a fucking sound."
cw! minors dni. angst, use of pet names like princess and baby, rough sex, strap-on sex, hair pulling, dirty talking, degradation, praising, multiple orgasms, mention of squirting, strap on use (r! receiving),oral (r! receiving).
Ellie takes her anger out on you after losing a lacrosse match.
She played lacrosse, the sport that she loved. Ellie would take out her stress when she played. But when her team would lose, you needed to get ready to go back home with her.
Ellie was tense the whole ride home. When you did get home, she sighed as she slammed the door. You were about to go upstairs until Ellie spoke, "C'mere."
"Hmm?" You hummed."
"I said come here." Ellie demanded in a harsh tone, as Ellie walked to you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to a wall, pinning your wrists against it. "Look at me." You look in her piercing green eyes. Ellie looked irritated, she would always get like this when the team lost. You knew she wasn't angry at you, it was just the outcome of the game. Ellie pressed her body against yours, not allowing you to move. Her hands firmly holding your wrists.
"Ellie..." You say, slightly shocked.
"Shut up." Ellie said, her voice firm. Her knee pushed between your legs, her knee softly pressed against your pussy. Ellie looked down at you.
"Fuck-" You moan.
"Tsk, what did I say..." She pushes you harder against the wall. "I said shut up." Ellie pressed her knee against you again, and leaned down to your ear. "Say anything again and I stop. Understood?" You nod keeping your mouth shut.
"Good girl."
Ellie whispered, her face close to your now. Her hands firmly gripped your wrists, as she started to press light kisses across your neck, her knee still pressing against you.` You bite back a moan. Ellie smirked against your skin, knowing exactly what she was doing. She started to leave more wet kisses on your neck. Her knee starting to press deeper.
"You're going to stay quiet for me?" You nod begging for her to continue.
"Such a good girl you are."Ellie said against your neck, her voice was raspy. She bit down gently on your neck, the pressure from her knee increasing.Ellie's kisses slowly moved down to your collarbone, leaving kisses and biting it gently, causing it to turn a light pink color. She then bit and sucked on your sweet spot in the nape of your neck. Ellie would bite down on your sweet spot a little harder. She started pulling your body against hers, pressing her body against yours. Ellie softly pulled down your shirt, as her warm lips started to kiss down to your chest.
"You don't know how gorgeous you are.." She whispered against your skin, as her kisses went further down. You tilt Your head back with pleasure.
Ellie loved how sensitive you were to her touch. She would love to see you squirm under her. Her kisses started to go further, nearing your stomach.
"You're so sensitive.." Her hand slowly started to wander up your stomach. They squeeze your tits, causing you to gasp. Ellie pauses for a moment "What did I say about making noise? You can't hold it in?"She smirks, her hand started to lightly squeeze your tits one at a time.
"Sorry" You sign in sign language. Ellie glanced at your hands, smiling before speaking.
"I forgive you, princess." She slowly pushed you down onto the floor to your knees now towering over you, smiling down at you. You look up at her, your eyes hungry for her. Ellie slowly squats down, looking at you. Her eyes filled with lust as she spoke.
"You looked so beautiful while I had you pinned against the wall. Seeing you all flustered made me want to do even more." She puts her thumb on your lip. Slowly, she moves her thumb into your mouth watching your reaction closely.
"You're such a good girl for me. So obedient.. and so beautiful.."
"Are you wearing your strap?" You sign. Ellie nodded.
"Of course I am. Did you really think I wouldn't wear it?" You shrug and smirk up at herEllie leaned closer to you, grabbing your chin, making you look at her. Her grip on your chin was firm, but gentle, not wanting to hurt you.
"Don't start acting cocky with me, princess."
"What do you want me to do?" You sign. Ellie's hands slowly went from your chin to your shoulders, forcing you to where she wants you.
"I think you know exactly what I want. You don't think I'm going to let you off after what you just did, do you princess?"
"Suck it?"I sign while smirking. Ellie chuckled as she slowly sat back against the wall, looking at you.
"That's exactly what I want, princess. Make yourself useful. Come on, pretty girl." You unbutton her pants and pulling them and her underwear down. Her big cock looking you in the face. Ellie looked down at you, smiling as she put a hand back on your chin.
"Is it what you were expecting, princess? Because I can see it in your eyes." Ellie chuckled at your shocked look, as she started to run her fingers through your hair.
"Go on, princess. You know what to do. Open up for me.” You did as you were told. Ellie watched you intently as you slowly opened your mouth for her, smirking the whole time.
"You look so good like this, all dolled up and ready for me." Ellie's expression changed, as she leaned her head back against the wall, letting out a soft moan. Her hand still in your hair.
"Just like that- good girl.." You swear she could really feel it as if it really were her own cock. Ellie looked down at you, looking into your eyes.
"You look so beautiful, doll.. on your knees and in between my legs..."Ellie continued to run her fingers through your hair, slightly pulling as she watched you.
"You're mine, aren't you princess? You're all mine." you nod around her dick. Ellie tightened her grip in your hair slightly, a soft moan escaping her mouth.
"I'm the only one who can see you like that, nobody else." she grunts. She slowly begins to thrust, her cock sliding in and out, the friction causing her to become more aroused. Ellie gripped your hair, and bit her lip a whimper escaping her lips as she started to gently thrust into your mouth. Her moans started to escape her lips, as she looked down at you. Soon enough Ellie was sliding down your throat, slowly but forcefully.
“Good girl... All nice and deep.” You tried your best to take it, to not gag. But harsh deep thrusts from Ellie made you.
"Doing so good princess, just a little more." she muttered "You look like such a mess. Your hair and mouth a mess because of me. You're enjoying this aren't you princess?" You nod around her, gagging. Ellie continued to go deeper in your mouth, she was enjoying this. Seeing you in such a state was driving her crazy.
“I’m going to fuck you up so badly princess. You’re going to be an absolute fucking wreck..."You could tell how much she was enjoying this, the small moans and gasps that escaped her mouth. Seeing you a mess in front of her, looking up at her with pleading eyes.
"You're mine, princess. My pretty girl, that I get to ruin." She suddenly thrusted in deeper and faster, a loud moan escaped her.
"God look how you're sucking me. I'm getting close. you gonna be able to swallow it all?" she asked, her breath ragged. You nodded eagerly.Her eyes darkened as she looked down at you.
"Such a good girl. Can't wait to see you all messy and covered in my cum." She is fucking your mouth hashly now.
“I’m almost there princess. You going to take it like a good little slut?Gonna behave and swallow it? Be a good girl and don't spill any"?" She pants. You nod, tears welling in your eyes. A moan escaped her mouth as her grip to your hair tightened.
"I'm gonna fill your pretty mouth up doll. So be a good girl and swallow. You can take it all, can't you?" She teased. She suddenly began to hit the back of your throat.
"i'm cumming" She moaned
"Look at me princess. I want you to look at me while I fill you up" You look up at her. She held your head in place, practically forcing her cum down your throat. she pulls out of your mouth as you swallow it.
"good girl... You can talk now doll." She smiles.
"You tasted so good love..." You say. Ellie smirked, as she began to run her fingers through your hair again. Caressing the back of your head.
"Did I princess? I’m glad you enjoyed it. You looked beautiful on your knees for me."
"Is that all?" You ask. You know the answer but yo need to hear it yourself.
"You think I’m finished with you princess? I’m not nearly done with you yet." She scooped you up, carrying you over to the bed, slowly tossing you onto it removing your clothes and her shirt. She slowly began to kiss down your stomach, stopping at your thighs.
"You look so good like this, doll. All vulnerable for me." She hovered over you.
"Are you ready for me, princess?"She smirked, as she moved to in between your legs.
"I'll take care of you, don't worry, princess."
"I'm ready Els.." She pushed herself into you, her hands slowly going to your hips, holding them tightly. She begins to harshly thrust in and out of you, her hips snapping against your ass. The smell of sex quickly filled the bedroom. She grabbed your hips, fucking you faster. Moans spew out of your mouth trying to catch your breath.
"You look so damn good like this, doll. Taking me like that. You like my dick baby? Like it? She teased. You whined as she slipped deeper into you.
"Shut up. You can take it. Take it." She thrusts harder, forcing her cock deeper into you. She is stretching you and fucking your brains out. You are begging for her to slow down.
"Fuck Ellie please!" You beg.
"I said shut up. You can take it." She hissed. The room's temperature continued to rise, as the sound of the bed slightly creaking and the sounds of both of yours' breaths and moans were the only things that echoed through the room.
"Ellie 'm close..." You warn.
"Me too princess. Just hold on a little longer please." She pants. She started to go faster, the bed creaking under the both of you growing louder.
"You're doing so good for me princess. I'm gonna cum... You gonna let me fuck my babies into you?"
"Y-Yes Ellie..." She began to thrust harder, her breath becoming more staggered. Your orgasm hits you, your eyes rolling back as she fucks you through it. Your juices spilling our and a ring of cum forming at the base of her cock. Your body goes limp But Ellie doesn't care. you're her toy to use and fuck for tonight,She doesn't stop fucking you for a second, using you how she pleased. By the end of the night she had cum more times than she could recall.
Sorry for the sloppy ending. I wrote this at 12:35 in the morning (😭) to I was just trying to end it. I am working on a story with Ellie. it should be out soon!
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Kinktober 21/10/2024 Lando Norris - Cockwarming
Plot: Clingy Lando will do absolutely anything to feel close to you, even when he’s streaming.
Warnings: Kinktober, SMUT, dry humping, Cockwarming, p in v etc 18+ Minors DNI
You get home after a long gruelling day of modelling for Calvin Klein, you were in and out of a super cold dressing room infront of the hot lights and camera and you were exhausted and really just wanted a massive cuddle from you boyfriend.
However, once you got further into yours and Landos apartment you could hear the sound the familiar sound of your boyfriends laughter and his loud voice shouting the apartment down. You were happy Lando had the money to soundproof the outer walls but the whole apartment you could hear everything through, which made steam by night when friends where staying over a bit of an issue for you, Lando of course never cared and was happy to show all his friends how well he treated you.
From the short conversation you could hear before he got to the door you could make out that he was streaming with Ginge and Max. You knock on the door pretty loudly and things go quiet until you hear the roll of his chair wheels and the padding of his feet.
“Ahhhh baby, you’re back! How was your day?” He says kissing your head before pulling you back to look at you. And immediately a frown comes over his face when he sees yours.
It was one thing you loved and hated about your boyfriend. He could read you like a book and he always knew when something was wrong.
“What’s wrong, what happened?” He asks sorry evident in his tone.
“Nothing, just a long day. Pretty tired and I just wanna be with you” you say softly smiling at him shyly.
“Come in and sit with me then. You can talk to Ginge and Max too” he offers and you shake your head. You didn’t really feel like socialising with anyone but Lando, you were too exhausted from all the people and the hustle and bustle they had caused at the studio today.
“Don’t wanna see anyone, just you. I don’t wanna be on camera either. Just wanna be close to you right now” you admit with a sigh and he nods. He holds his finger up to indicate to wait there and he comes back only 20 seconds later.
“I turned the camera off and you don’t have to speak to anyone. You can just sit in my lap yeah?” He asks with a smile and you nod, a smile finally gracing yours. You walk in with him seeing his game is paused on one monitor and chat going so quickly you can hardly see what people are saying just catching a few
Camera gone? 🥹
What happened? 🙁
Where did bob go?
He takes a seat in his chair and pats his lap, you join him sitting on his lap, facing the desk watching his monitor as his arms comes round either side of you to reach mouse and keyboard.
“WHERE ARE YOU” you can hear Ginge’s voice through the headphones making you stifle a laugh. Lando unmutes and kisses your shoulder.
“Sorry, Y/N came home and she’s had a bit of a bad day guys and she wanted to come sit with me” Lando explains chat starting to floods with your names and various comments of asking to put the ‘pretty woman’ which is apparently you, on screen for them too see.
“No chat. She’s not feeling her best today, so she’s just sitting with me until I’ve finished for the day. So you all need to behave” he explains and chat floods with nice and kind messages for you telling you to get better and hope you have a better day tomorrow which you know you will as you and Lando will have you ‘rot day’ as you both like to call it.
Eventually it gets too hard sitting in Landos lap normally, your hair was in the way of your arms were pushing him back in the chair and so he asked you to spin round so that you were straddling him.
You straddle his lap leaning into him, so your head was laying in the crevice of his neck and shoulder and just listen to him stream. You always loved his voice it was so flaming to you.
Eventually you start to get a little needy. Whether it was because you hadn’t seen him in so long or it was the way you were straddling him. And you knew it was bad, so bad but you couldn’t help it when you shifted forward and heard a small little groan from him. It was a natural one that could have been put off a him getting annoyed with the game. So you tested it again.
And again and again, working yourself up.
He just smiles at you, watching your movement. And you wanted more of a reaction from him, you needed him and you wanted to feel closer to him. Skin to skin contact was something both you and Lando loved and right now there was too much in the way for that.
You continue going in at a better angle and he nearly moans but covers it with a cough, that was suspicious and before he can get away with it of course Ginge queries it, having been present to yours and Landos clinginess in person.
He explain that he just had something caught in his throat just as he died which everyone seems to believe. He mutes his mic, trying to look at you with a teasing look on his face.
“Be a good girl okay? If you want to be closer for it, go for it but no noise okay and you stay still until I say so” he says and you nod, a happy grin on your face.
You slip his cock out, pulling your own panties to the side before you sink down onto him, your thighs burning at first from holding you up at this angle but once you finally bottom out a sigh of relief comes from you.
Lando shifts only once to help himself get into a comfort position knowing he’s in this for the long run and that he’ll be like this for a while longer before he unmutes and goes back to talking to his friends and playing his game.
The feeling of his cock inside you, just sitting there makes you incredibly happy. You can’t even describe that close feeling you get. You and Lando actually loved to cockwarm. Whenever you were home watching a movie and cuddling his dick would just happen to slip inside you and stay there until the credits rolled. Or like now when he was streaming… it was just something so pleasurable and nice that didn’t require any effort at all.
You could feel every crevice and vein that was against your walls. Your head remained in the crevice of his neck while you stay sat still in his lap, breathing in and out slowly. Your breathing regulates and eventually you fall asleep on top of him.
As far as Cockwarming had gone you usually had some kind of entertainment and you weren’t this tired and so you never had actually fallen asleep with Lando where he was inside you. Moving every now and then when he got a kill and he celebrated, a hand coming onto your bum as he lurched forward with a cheer of glory.
In your soft slumber you can barley hear him having fun with his friends your just letting the day escape from your mind and being in the arms of your favourite person.
You wake up as a forceful jolt sends Landos dick up into you, hitting that soft spongey place you liked a groaned moan coming from you.
“Ah oop that the princess awake. I’m going to have to cut it here guys as I think it’s time for dinner” he says as he ends the stream, leaves discord and shuts of his PC all while you wake up.
“Wanna take this to the bedroom sweetheart?” He asks and you nod, wanting to feel him immediately.
And let’s just say, that night ended much better than you’d anticipated.
Taglist:
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here I lay me down - s.r.
a/n: ex!spencer gets shot, and you show up at the hospital to see if he's okay. spencer is still desperately in love with you. based on this post wc: 2.3k (she is LONG)
Spencer wakes to a cacophony of sounds, others breathing and various beeps and hums from a variety of medical machines. He hates the noise of the hospital, as he knows what always follows. It’s pain, and ever since he kicked dilaudid, he doesn’t get the relief that people are always pushing on him here.
The last thing Spencer remembers, he was in front of Morgan, who was about to get shot- it was a piercing memory, one that even the anesthetic wearing off slowly couldn’t numb. He’d jumped in front of it, and the pieces of Morgan pacing around his room and the whole being in a hospital thing click into place.
When he blinks his eyes open, he sees Hotch speaking to the doctor with his endearingly concerned eyebrow scrunch and it’s then that he notices a familiar scent in the air.
It’s perfume- he knows because he’d bought it- a mixture of jasmine and lilies, and the memory of the night he gave it to her bursts into technicolor when he closes his eyes. It had been her birthday, and he’d gone with Penelope and Emily to pick out a gift for her.
He remembers how she’d lit up, her warm doe eyes brightening with fondness that he’d earned, and the way his heart had flipped in his chest- the memory is in crisp detail. He remembers the way she’d kissed him, equal measure in thanks and in adoration, and it’s comforting to remember right now. He tries to think of her often, especially when waves of pain crash over him like an unruly ocean that threatens to drown him. There was someone who loved him at one point, he tries to remember.
He wants to compliment the nurse wearing it, but even as limited as his social skills are in this state, he knows that telling the nurse you like her perfume because your ex wore it is probably inappropriate.
A roar of desire presents itself in his chest- he has no desire to want her here, but Spencer can’t help but fantasize about her presence. Her nimble fingers running through his hair, her soft voice cooing at his injuries. It was always nice to come home to her after a rough day- her disposition warm and kind and good. It’s his fault he doesn’t have it- his fault that she doesn’t love him anymore.
It’s as if he conjured her, when she walks in the door.
He literally cannot believe that she is here, in his hospital room- he drinks in the sight of her like a man starved. She’s beautiful- he’d never forget this but it’s been so long since he’s seen her. The curve of her cheek, her cupid’s bow, the slope of her neck- the details he spent the best year of his life memorizing under careful touch.
Her body language is protective, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other at her mouth, her delicate fingers holding a tissue. Had she been crying?
Before he can think of what to say to her, she speaks to him.
“How are you feeling?”
He’d forgotten just how her voice sounded. Or rather, how it sounded when she was concerned for him. It’s addicting, hedonistic in the ways of wine and drugs and everything else you should have in moderation but had to give up. It’s just so comforting, her lovely doe eyes looking at him with warmth and concern.
“Hey,” he replies, not answering her question. He might be imagining her. They might have given him drugs. There’s no way she came and see him of her own volition.
She pauses for a moment, biting her lip in an incredibly endearing way (and god, he’d missed looking at her) before she makes the decision to walk over to the side of his bed. He tries to crane his neck to look at her and she scolds him, and this doesn’t make any sense.
“You got shot,” she says, voice warm and concerned, and if he squinted he could hear love in her voice.
“I’m okay,” he tries to reply.
“You got shot,” she says, eyes flaring with emotion. She always hated that he minimized his pain.
“You came,” he says, after a beat of silence. Her fingers are running through his hair and he tries to commit this to memory. It doesn’t mean she loves him. She’s the kind of person who stops on the street to give someone the last dollar in her wallet, of course she would visit her ex-boyfriend in the hospital after he got shot.
It doesn’t mean anything.
“Of course I came, Spence,” she says, intentionality in her tone, “You got hurt.”
It’s selfish to lean into her touch, but she smells like home and he doesn’t know if he will ever be held like this again by her. And he doesn’t care to be held by anyone else.
Hotch comes in, and if he’s surprised to see the two of them together, it doesn’t show on his face. He tells Spencer that the. Bullet had been clean through, and that he’d been lucky. He’d avoided internal bleeding and would need to stay at home for a week.
When Hotch leaves to ‘give him some space to process’, the silence lingers.
“Thank you for coming.”
It’s kind of worse, actually. The reality where she’s still his girlfriend is superimposed on top of this one, and he can feel the ghost of the kisses she’d pepper his cheeks with. If she still loved him, then she’d hug him and tell him that she loves him, tell him how angry she is for jumping in front of a stray bullet.
It’s my fault, he thinks to himself, eyes raking over her. She’d definitely been crying, he realizes. Her makeup had run and he think she might have slept here. How had he ever gotten someone like her to fall in love with him?
It’s his fault she doesn’t love him anymore.
When the doctor tells him that he needs someone to stay with him for the next few days, and she volunteers, he agrees.
It’s a nice kind of pain, he thinks. Any piece of her is more than he wants of anything else.
_______________________________________
It turns out that she is a wonderful caregiver.
Penelope had been incredibly supportive of this idea, somehow convinced that the proximity would bring them back together. This is a hope that Spencer does not engage in, but still- it’s nice to have her around.
She knows her way around his apartment- knows how he organizes her things. Half her things used to be there too.
Memory is a funny thing. The worst part by far of eidetic memory is the lack of forgetting, and up until now, this was best seen in the horrors of his work. Now, it’s all her.
Taking care of him when he got shot is not the same thing as loving him.
When she makes them dinner (which is so kind of her- he offered to buy takeout and she’d insisted on recreating his mother’s soup recipe. She’d kept a copy of it in her phone. Spencer had almost died of flattery), she sits next to him on his couch
It’s funny how the best memories of his life are so colored now- their trip to Europe, their first kiss, the first time he’d cooked her dinner and she’d watched Doctor Who with him. Ghosts of memory linger through the place, and it hurts to see her sit next to him on the couch with a foot between them.
“Thank you for being here,” he says after a beat of silence. She looks beautiful, and he always thinks this. She’s wearing his t-shirt which is just an awfully tempting view.
It’s his fault he can’t have what he wants.
“I told you I still wanted us to be friends,” she says, looking down at her bowl, “You’re my friend. I’m happy to do this.”
He can tell she means it as an olive branch but it cuts like a knife. Because he never wanted to be her friend. She was the first thing he even wanted enough to ask for it. He still remembers when he’d asked her out the first time, the stuttering and the way she’d looked, how impossible her liking him back had felt.
And then he’d managed to make her fall in love with him. It didn’t even take much- he just had to be himself, the way she says it, and he’d give anything to have that back.
“You’re a good friend,” he replies, instead of everything he’s thinking.
“Hotch thinks so,” she muses, not looking at him, “He was surprised I’d come here after you broke up with me.”
It’s a slight lash out, and it’s fair. It’s not fair that she’s here, wearing his fucking t-shirt, her collarbones exposed under the fabric. He know what her skin feels like under his lips, and now she make veiled comment on his couch.
“Why did you?”
He can’t figure it out. They’d broken up two months ago. He’d done it to protect her- after the anthrax case he’d been fucking fixated on her getting hurt. Because this is the stuff he can’t protect her from. Can’t help if biomedical hazards end up on his clothes, and if he comes home shot.
He got shot. He’s the kind of person who doesn’t get forever with the woman he loves, because he can’t keep her safe. Even if he quit just then- enough people have made an enemy of him. She’d never be safe.
So he made a choice to cut his ties and let her go, and yes, every fucking night since he’s had at least one nightmare about what she looks like crying and asking him to stay. He never, ever wanted to see her like that, but he also never ever wanted her to be a widow.
She’d find someone else. She’s so easy to love- he doesn’t like to think about someone else loving her, but he’s sure she won’t be alone.
His voice catches in his throat.
“It is nice of you,” Spencer chokes out, “I never wanted you to have to do that.”
“Let’s not talk about this now,” she says, getting up to get him another serving, and he grabs her wrist.
“Ba- Hey, please. Talk to me.”
“What do you want me to say?” she says at him, but she doesn’t pull her wrist back.
“I just-“ he stammers, but it’s heavy and something he can’t give up, the combination of her gaze under his and her soft skin in his grasp, “I can’t have you here and hate me. I just can’t take you hating me. I know- I know what I did. I know it’s not fair to ask and I know that we’re not together and I know it’s my fault but god, you can’t hate me. I can’t take it.”
“You think I hate you?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“You think I came to the hospital in the middle of the night, slept in a waiting room, cooked you soup and slept on your couch because I hate you?”
He doesn’t know what to say. How could she still love him?
“It’s you,” he replies. “You’d always do that for me.”
She’s closer now, moving into his space more and more and he can smell his own body soap on her because she showered here, and he’s overcome with a desire to hold her.
“Why do you think that is?”
She’s almost in his lap now, and there’s a greed to this now, the way he pulls her a little bit closer. She tips her head back in a bitter, tinny laugh that he doesn’t like the sound of.
“I mean, Spencer- I love you so much that I don’t even care if you love me back.”
“You still love me?”
“I’m working on it,” she says, a bitter smile on her face, “You’re hard to get over.”
“Don’t get over me.”
It’s not the smoothest thing he could’ve sid, and he kind of regrets the implication on her face, sees her gorgeous features crumple.
“That’s mean, Spence.”
“No! No. Don’t. Don’t-don’t do that. Don’t move on with your life and find someone else because this is the lightest I’ve felt in fucking weeks.”
Her eyes widen into saucers, and her grip tightens on his hands, and Spencer feels like he could fly.
“I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have made you go and I should’ve let you be the person who picks me up at the hospital and I know, I know how lucky I am that you’re still here, that you cared enough. Please, please don’t get over me. I know it’s not far to ask.”
She blinks a few times at him before opening her arms for a hug, of which he flies into at breakneck speed. His ribs hurt but he’d forgotten what it was like to hold her. And yes, maybe wanting this makes himself selfish, but he wants this. Maybe this can the one thing he lets himself have.
“I do love you. ” he speaks into her collarbone, and she shushes him.
“No, no,” he says, looking up at her, her gorgeous doe eyes shaky with uncertainty he knows is his fault, “If you’ll still have me, I’d like to-I’d like to try again. And I know that you probably can’t trust me and I have so much to make up for and-“
“Spencer,” she says warmly, twining their fingers, “I’d like to kiss you now. Okay?”
He nods a bit fervently, shaking as he does, but when she kisses him-
It’s just as he remembers. She leans into him, her delicate fingers cupping his jaw and he wraps his spindles arms around the curve of her waist, pinning her to him like she might float away if untethered.
When Spencer gets back to the office, he it’s not just his wounds that have healed.
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