#they prefer talking over combat

[sarcasticsra]

I’m obsessed with this game a normal amount

[rwby-confess]

Confession #157

[toastthewolfie]

help someone I know said that they think Kuro is copying hoyoverse when I showed her some screenshots from the live and I was just internally screaminf:

HOYOVERSE DOES NOT OWN CHIBI VOICE ACTED CHARACTERS. HOYOVERSE DOES NOT OWN OPEN WORLD GACHA GAMES. HOYOVERSE DOES NOT OWN GAMES THAT ARE STORY > COMBAT > STORY.

HOYOVERSE MIGTH HAVE BEEN AN EARLY DEVELOPER FOR IT, BUT THAT DIESNT MEAN NO OTHER GAME CAN AND THE ONLY REASON I DIDNT IS BECAUSE IM TORED AND THIS WOULD HAVE STARTED AN ARGUMENT THAT I WOULD HAVE LOSG NI MATTER WHAT

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Prescription For Pleasure

Warnings: MDNI, sex, masturbation, medical masturbation, use of vibrators, clit play, piv sex, use of latex gloves, oral (fem receiving), some praise, kinda slow burn A/n: I am not normal about this man in any way. Not really proofread. Please do not use my banners without permission.

You’re seated in Zayne’s office, trying not to squirm as he sets up your appointment. Although this was now the third time you were seeing him for this regular inspection, it didn’t alleviate your nerves the slightest. Each month, according to the Hunter’s Association regulations, every hunter needed to be seen by their primary care physician for 3 consecutive days for their health.

And although the association deemed it a necessity, it was an embarrassing requirement according to you. The Hunter’s Association had done a survey and discovered that many of their employees suffered from high levels of stress because they were isolated and lacked much-needed human contact. To combat this, they made it mandatory to get physical contact by a medical professional every month.

But when all the fancy jargon was pushed aside, all the hunters called it the same thing - medical masturbation. It had become wildly popular amongst both men and women hunters, eagerly marking the days on their calendar for when they could come in. When you heard about the rule, you wished the earth would open up and swallow you whole. You had tried talking to Jenna to insist that you were indeed taking care of yourself in that aspect, thanks to your trusted vibrator, but she had shaken her head no. 

“We need documentation. I’m subject to it, and so is everyone else in my order.”  Defeated, you’d walked out of Jenna’s office before remembering another mortifying fact with a jolt. Your primary care physician was Zayne. 

Your childhood friend, your trusted cardiologist, stoic and calm, who remained reserved during your general checkups, was going to be your medical masturbator. You had almost turned yourself into a ball on the floor, tweaked out at the insanity of it all. Although Zayne was your general physician, you had a separate gynecologist, and apart from asking if you’d had your annual PAP smear, Zayne had left that part of your anatomy unquestioned. It didn’t help that you were attracted to him, and sure, if he’d asked you out on a date, you would have been more than happy to let him inspect you all he wanted down there.

But this clinical setting, enforced by your organization was a little too much to bear. Wondering how to tackle this situation, you wander over to Tara who was humming as she made her medical bookings on her phone app. “Isn’t this exciting?” she squeals as she sees you. “God knows the dating pool is thin right now. This is just what I needed!”

Tara’s primary care physician was a woman, and you wondered if that was a pro or a con. On the one hand, dropping your panties for a woman doctor seemed less unnerving than for a man. But if you had a preference for men, would it work against your arousal? You shook your head at your ridiculous musings and focused on talking to Tara. “Are you really that excited about this?”

“You have no idea!” Tara taps her feet as she talks to you. 

“And you’re ok about having a woman stimulate you?” You probe, trying to gauge Tara’s reaction. Tara giggles and lightly pats your shoulder. 

“I don’t know but the idea is kind of hot. I mean, getting it on in a doctor’s office? Besides if I don’t like it, I can change the doctor the next time.”

Her words hit you like a ton of bricks. “You can change your doctor?”

“For this yes, the app gives you an option since it involves showing off a lot of intimate areas. You have to be able to trust your doctor right?”

You logged into the app, finding the little button to request a change in doctors, but for some reason, the page kept refreshing and crashing. With a sigh, you decide to get the worst of it over with and call Zayne, hoping he can make the change for you on his end. His voice is cool and professional when he answers your call.

“Yes?”

“So, you must have heard about…the new regulation?” you had put forth nervously.

“I am aware of it, yes.” 

“Well, for obvious reasons, I would like a different doctor.” 

Zayne smoothly says, “Of course. Patient comfort is always first. Do you have a doctor in mind?”

“Maybe my gynecologist? I tried doing it in the app but it keeps crashing.” There’s a moment of silence and you can hear Zayne’s fingers tapping away at his keyboard before a low hum leaves his end of the line.

“There appears to be a problem.”

“Problem?” you’d parrotted back.

“Yes. Because so many people are booking appointments at the same time, most of the available doctors are already taken. Including your gynecologist.” 

It felt like watching a bird crashing into a window in slow motion, that brief moment of hope that it wouldn’t hit the glass shattering in an instant. “Oh.”

There’s a pause before Zayne delicately says, “I’m sorry but it looks like you will have to make those appointments with me for this month. 3 of them according to the regulation. Hopefully, you can make the change for next month.” His voice sounded slightly apologetic.

“Won’t it be weird given that we know each other personally?” The question had fallen from your lips before you could stop yourself. 

“I promise not to treat you any differently than any of my other patients who are coming in for this inspection. I understand this may be a little unexpected, but I assure you I did a term of gynecology during my internship.”

A tinge of mirth carried over in his voice and you can’t help but make a noise of embarrassment. “Zayne, please!” His laugh was dry but not unkind, and you can’t help but want to hide your face even though he couldn’t see you. 

“Don’t worry too much. But I do advise you to make the appointments soon. My schedule is filling up rapidly.”

With those words, he’d disconnected the call and you were left wondering if an unknown god from another planet had cursed your existence. 

And changing doctors had proven to be more difficult than you’d thought. The entire organization seemed to be having a single thought. They had made appointments in the app almost halfway into the year, essentially blocking you from being able to do anything about your situation. Now on your third month with Zayne, you watch as he checks his notes from your last session, feeling like you want to scamper from the room.

The last two sessions had been incredibly stimulating, your arousal heightened by the fact you were attracted to Zayne. You’d never considered having someone watch as you touched yourself but found that you’d enjoyed it, at least, when it was him. He had remained professional, but you’d avoided him these last two months, save for when you had to get your monthly cardiac profile. He reads his notes from his computer as he prepares for your session. 

“Preferred device for stimulation still a vibrator, with a large, rounded, flexible head?” His eyes remain on his screen and you’re grateful for him giving you this smidgen of privacy. 

“Yes.”

“Preference for the doggystyle position still?” 

Your face burns. “Yes.”

“Still consenting for verbal stimulation?”

You nod your head.

“And still consenting for internal vaginal stimulation?” You make a noise of consent, squeezing your thighs together, your panties uncomfortably chafing against your already swollen pussy. 

“All right, I have everything I need.” He logs off and removes his lab coat, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his well-corded arms, and your mouth almost waters at the sight of them. Clearing your throat, you shyly reach into your bag and pull out the vibrator in question, which he takes from you and clamps into a stand, adjusting it over the examination table you’d be on. A bottle of lube awaits on the tray next to the table and you swallow as he finishes the setup. 

“Whenever you’re ready,�� he says in that deep voice, and feeling like your fingers are wrapped in thick woolen mittens, you reach behind you to untie the hospital gown you’re wearing, and it falls to the floor with a swoosh, your nipples pebbling under the sudden chill. A small set of sensors were taped to your chest and on the sides of your forehead, essential medical devices to ensure your orgasm was satisfactory. Unperturbed, Zayne gestures to the table and you make your way onto it, letting your feet settle in the stirrups as he settles on a stool between your legs, pulling on latex gloves before gently spreading your folds apart. You stare up at the ceiling as he does his initial checkup.

“Labia look healthy, no signs of trauma or abnormal discharge,” he murmurs, then runs a finger down the edge of the fold that separates your inner and outer lips, causing your core to clench involuntarily. You hold still, knowing very well he saw the action, holding your breath, letting out a little sigh as he lets go. 

“Normal reaction to stimuli, already semi-aroused,” he says, trashing the gloves and making another note on his computer. He glances over at you, leaning back uncertainly on the table. “You may begin.”

You swallow, then carefully turn onto your hands and knees, crawling towards the head of the table, grabbing the bottle of lube and squeezing the viscous liquid onto the head of the vibrator, avoiding eye contact as your breasts sway under the motion, nipples painfully hard from anticipation. You could feel Zayne’s gaze but can’t bring yourself to look up. Even though this was the third time, it hadn’t gotten easier, stripping naked and pleasuring yourself in his office. 

Once the rounded head of the vibrator is slick, you turn, the chill of the lube against your heated membranes causing more blood to flow into your already engorged nub, and run your moist slit across the surface to spread the liquid onto your slickened folds. Your hand fumbles for the little remote control and with a buzz, the vibrator turns on at the lowest setting. You click the button a few more times until it gets to the speed you liked, then fail to hold back a moan as the sensations pleasurably begin to take hold in your clit. 

The first time you had done this, nervousness had made you set the vibrator on the highest possible setting hoping to get a quick orgasm and sprint out of the office. Unfortunately, the sensors relayed this information into Zayne’s medical record that your climax had been unsatisfactory, and you had endured being lectured by him with the medical gown loosely draped on your body, your rear open to the cold office air. 

His tone wasn’t unkind but it hadn’t helped you feel better either. “It helps neither of us if you rush this. The whole purpose of this examination is to ensure you’re relaxing. I know it’s embarrassing but if you fail to have a proper orgasm, I’ll have to make you repeat the process until I get data that says otherwise.”

“The sensors are-”

“The only way to measure anything. Without involving another person anyway.”

His words had left you gobsmacked and your retort had died in your mouth. After that incident, you had learned. Even with the chagrin of having him watch you, you had learned to take your time and let the feelings build, leading to incredibly savory climaxes that made your body squirm from the aftershocks. 

Your hips sway, setting up a rhythm to brush your sensitive slit onto the head, letting it vibrate from cunt to clit, the lube aiding the frictionless sliding and making your core drip. Quiet noises of pleasure leave your throat as help yourself, arching your back and changing the curvature of your ass to maximize the sensations, then when the perfect pattern emerges, you let out a keening sigh, and try to remain still, letting the vibrator work its magic. 

Zayne, who has been quietly observing the computer this entire time, observing the spikes relayed from the sensors, asks, “Have you found your optimal pleasure form?”

“Yes,” you gasp, the timbre of his voice sending an arrow of lust into the deepest parts of your clenching core. You knew what was about to come next. The sound of Zayne’s desk chair moving, followed by the snap of latex gloves as he pulled a fresh pair onto those beautiful hands. He approaches the examination table and takes the bottle of lube you had set aside earlier, a wet squelching noise issuing from it as he squeezes it over his gloved hand, gathering the fluid on his index and middle fingers. He leans over to whisper in your ears; the verbal stimulation has begun.

The humiliating reveal that you had a heavy praise kink had come up during your initial session and despite your insistence that it wasn’t necessary, Zayne, the ever-diligent worker, had made a note in your profile, and he’d been fulfilling it each time. A tickle of hot breath near your ear, before he murmurs, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

The hum of the vibrator in the background coupled with his voice makes your breath catch in your throat. You nod, knowing you didn’t have it in you to form coherent words. 

“That’s a good patient. Good patients listen to their doctors you know. And you’re doing a wonderful job.”

Your hips snap back to push your clit against the rubber pad, letting out a whimper of pleasure, the action pushing your ass up higher, revealing your pathetically drooling cunt, fluttering with the dissatisfaction of being unfilled. 

“Are you ready?” He waits for your consent and you manage a husky, ‘mm hm’.

“Good girl. Take a breath.”

You inhale, trying to relax, then let out an uninhibited moan as Dr. Zayne inserts his middle finger into your needy cunt, the ring of muscles offering no resistance to the probing digit. He gently thrusts a few times, before curling the tip of his finger up into the delicate patch of nerves on your upper wall, the smooth come hither motion awakening a new level of pleasure in your body. Your fingers tighten on the edges of the table, sobbing, trying not to scream at the feelings that threatened to explode from you. He keeps up the gentle assault before asking, “Are you ready for another one?”

“Yes…” your voice comes out shakily, knowing you desired more than just his fingers, but that you would never get to experience it. 

“Perfect. So well behaved, taking exactly what I give you.” Zayne’s sensual voice floods your ear before his index pushes into you, the thickness of both his fingers sending you into overdrive. Your walls clench welcomingly around him, inciting an exciting pull of liquid heat in your abdomen, the muscles tensing in anticipation for the exquisite release you knew was about to occur. 

Feeling your inhibitions abandon you as you are stroked closer to orgasm your self-control slips and his name falls from your lips as he pushes over the edge.

“Zayne…” some partially functioning confine in the back of your brain registers what you had just involuntarily purred, but the spasms rocking your core, those gratifying waves of delight flooding your body made it easier to ignore it as your being is reduced to a pliant mess of pleasure. His fingers ease up as the fluttering in your pussy calms down, your clit pulsating weakly as the final vestiges of pleasure are wrung from your body. 

With a wet noise, his fingers leave your moist hole, the glove coated with your juices and the lubricant. Awareness finally comes crashing around you as you realize what you had uttered in the throes of passion. 

“I…I didn’t…I wasn’t in control…” You try to find a way to explain, to let him know you had very little choice in the matter of sobbing his name as you orgasmed, but everything feels flat, almost on the fine line between explaining and insulting. 

“There’s no need.” Almost as if he’s read your mind, Zayne matter-of-factly redirects the conversation. “It’s not uncommon to blurt out things during climax. Some people swear, and others call out names. It was a very normal reaction considering I was the one in the room with you.”

He throws the gloves in the trash and goes to check the computer, to ensure the sensors had given him the information he needed before starting the second round of the appointment.

“Oh.” You say quietly as he sits at his desk, feeling dejected. Although relieved he wasn’t making a big deal out of it, you can’t help but feel disappointed with his reaction. Shouldn’t a man be flattered when a woman cried out his name when she came? Maybe he really was treating you strictly as a patient. And here you were, pussy exposed and spread after being probed by his dextrous fingers, mooning over him like a high school girl. Perhaps the limit of your relationship with him was in fact, doctor and patient, the childhood friends aspect fading. 

So there was no romance here at all. You had a crush on him, and he was doing his job. Reality sucks. You sniff and suddenly feel cheap, and get out of the doggystyle position and try to find the hospital gown to preserve some of your modesty. Zayne glances over at your sudden movements.

“Are you cold? I can get you a blanket.”

“I’m fine.” You try to sound normal. 

“Your records show that you usually rest about 10 minutes before you are ready for the next round. Do you feel like that will be the case this time too?”

You find the gown and drag it up to your chin, covering your body as you lay back on the table. “Yeah. Actually a little sooner today maybe. I have somewhere to be.”

“You can’t rush these things. Your body will cum when it wants to. A forced orgasm doesn’t promote anything beneficial.”

“Well can we find a way for this to happen quickly and in compliance with the sensors?” You’re trying not to let your frustration show, the pleasantness of your orgasm fading. “I don’t think I have the patience to do two more rounds.”

Zayne listens to you impassively, but those amber eyes flecked with green had an underlying intensity you couldn’t place. “You don’t have the patience to do two more rounds?” He gets up and comes over to you. “You want to just leave then?” He approaches the edge of the table and there’s tension in his jaw. Perplexed, you look at him, his reaction unexpected. 

“No, I’m sorry, I know I can’t leave because of compliance and all that.”

“Compliance,” Zayne mutters under his breath before grasping your chin and forcing you to look at him, a gasp leaving your throat. 

“You’re getting frustrated because you have to do this a few times every month while being supervised? Do you have any idea what I have to do before you come in for these sessions?” His voice is a growl and you clam up, shocked by this aggressive display of expression from him.

“Every month I have to remain professional as you come in, pleasure yourself, and then leave. I have to endure seeing your beautiful body bare in front of me and control all my impulses to touch you, to not overstep my limitations as your doctor. I pleasure myself remembering the noises you make and ensure I’m well spent before coming in to do your appointments. You sit there, acting like it’s hard for you, but do you have any idea what you do to me?”

One of his knees is on the table, and he’s looming over you making you feel like a tiny animal caught in his fury. “It’s torture, to watch you. You’re not like the other patients I see. You never have been. Because with you, I always feel like I’m on the verge of losing control. Do you know how difficult it is to not do things to you that aren’t specified on your medical record? To have my fingers so intimately inside you, feel every little drop of pleasure clenching around my fingers, knowing at the end I can’t have you to myself? To hear you call my name and know that you only see me as your doctor?” 

Your face is a bright shade of red but you can’t look away from his face. His teeth are gritted, and when you dare to glance down, you see the noticeable bulge that has formed between his legs. He follows your glance and clicks his tongue, letting go of your chin. 

“I know I crossed a boundary today. It’s all right. You can go. I’ll reschedule you with another doctor. I know you didn’t want me in the first place.”

Your mind is a blur as you quickly reach out to grab his hand, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. His admission was like a prayer answered, and you weren’t going to meek about this. His breath hitches as he feels you pulling at his hand and gives you a look of uncertainty. Your lips part but the words you want to say refuse to come out. 

“Damn it,” he whispers ferally before his mouth captures yours in a rough kiss. It was wild and demanding, a contrast to the reserved, patient man he usually was. You’re swept up in the feeling of his mouth on yours, the taste of his tongue, and the softness of his lips. When you break apart, his hand cups your cheek, his eyes searching your face.

“This isn’t just because of the session right?” He asks keenly and you realize what he’s asking you. He’d been aching for you before this whole stupid policy came into place. The same way you’d been longing for him. 

“No, it’s not. I had a crush on you back when you became my doctor to check on my heart condition.” A sigh of relief leaves him before he tenderly presses his forehead to yours, and you’re caught up in the sweetness of the moment. 

“I just had to be sure.”

Boldly, you raise your head, delighted when he meets you, pulled back into his kiss, your tongues sliding over each other, your fingers tangling into his hair, scratching the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you. 

You gasp as he breaks the kiss to drag his tongue down the column of your throat, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the heated flesh, your blood humming in your veins as your eyes flutter closed. He pulls away the gown and pulls your perked nipple into his mouth, and you revel in the jolt of pleasure it brings you, each suckle felt in your clit which had already swollen up again in need. His fingers capture your other nipple, softly tweaking and pulling it and drawing little whines of desire from your throat. 

Your hand finds the junction between his legs and cups the heavy bulge, drawing a groan from him, palming him through his slacks, feeling it grow and tent the fabric under your ministrations. A low guttural sound leaves him and he gets off the table, and you almost protest until you see him dragging the small wheeled stool from earlier towards the table. He settles down on it, looping his arms around the tops of your thighs and pulling you closer to the table's edge until your feet find the stirrups again. 

“Stay open for me darling,” he instructs, his eyes glittering and you shiver as you feel his breath against your swollen folds. You squeak as he pushes your folds apart with his nose, inhaling your scent, his eyes growing dark with lust. “You smell delicious. I always wondered. Had to stop myself from sniffing my gloves after you climaxed. Not professional you know.” 

The musky tang of your pussy fills his senses, and his tongue darts out and dips into your slit, finding the swollen bud and licking it with just the right pressure that makes your toes curl and stars pop into your vision. 

Your hand rests on his head, tugging his beautiful dark locks, his name falling from your lips without barriers. Your hips rock against him, moaning, then let a sob as his lips suction around your clit. His fingers, free from the gloves at last, probe your entrance, scissoring inside to prepare you for what was to come before they curl up into that gummy patch that he knew too well. 

The sensations flood you, and the sheer knowledge of knowing you had Zayne touching you this way, unbound by the usual rules was sending you into a frenzy. Incoherent noises leave your mouth, crying out hotly as he teases the orgasm from you, your body shivering from the intensity. 

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and takes in your appearance, so soft and satisfied on his table, a dreamy look in your eyes.

“Are you prepared for the after?” he asks, you nod, more than eager to experience him. A sly smile crosses his face before he reaches over into the little chest of drawers by the table and pulls out a condom. 

“Hospitals have free condoms. It would be impractical to not use one when it’s on hand.” He explains seeing your questioning look and stands to undo his pants. You watch curiously as his cock is finally freed, eyes widening as it faces you, so impressive and veiny, standing proudly with a slight curve in its length. His pubes were neatly trimmed at the base, ebony curls visible behind the shaft. As he starts to roll on the condom, you feel your whole body heating up in anticipation. 

He leans down to kiss you before taking your feet and resting them on his shoulders, his cock at the perfect angle to enter you. As he sinks into your welcoming heat, you let out a sigh of longing, feeling the delicious stretch of muscle as he pushes up inside you, gasping as you feel his full length sheathe itself. As he bottoms out, his eyes close in bliss, hardly daring to believe that after all this time, he is finally getting to fulfill this private dream. 

Each stroke has him brushing against your gspot and kissing your cervix as he paces himself, feeling the primal urge to take you roughly and selfishly calling at his self-control. A growl leaves his throat as you whimper, straining towards him as the both of you struggle to keep a grip on reality. He feels the seductive way your walls clench around him, hears the soft noises you make, sees your face contort in pleasure with every roll of his hips. 

“Oh you feel so good,” he pants hotly, glasses askew, almost at the tip of his nose as he thrusts. “Clenching me so needily. Gonna milk me dry.”

Your response is a shuddering whimper, your back arching greedily to feel all of him, creating the perfect curvature to brush your clit against the base of his erection with each push of his hips. He feels the little bud on his heated skin, your combined fluids dripping onto his shaft, slickening the bundle of nerves with each stroke. 

“Be a good girl and cum on my cock the way you do on my fingers.” Zayne’s voice is husky as he tries to hold on, damned if he came before you. “I know you want to. I can feel the way your walls are spasming. They always do this pattern before you orgasm.”

The fact that he had memorized this knowledge of you was too much and you let go, your voice filling the room as you climax. Zayne’s hips stutter as he feels you around his length, pussy fluttering so him. His pace quickens, the sound of slapping skin becoming more and more urgent, his balls hitting your ass each time as he chases his orgasm. 

A shiver passes through his body as it happens and he buries himself in your warmth. You hum in satisfaction as you feel his cock twitch and pulse inside you as he spills his load. He pants, sweat on his forehead as he bends down to kiss you again, carefully lowering your legs which burn from the stretch as they settle on the stirrups. 

Threading your fingers through his hair, you brush your noses together, smiling shyly at him as he smirks, his eyes closing as he catches his breath.

“Can I see you outside of my office sometime?” he asks and you laugh at the invitation. 

“Are you asking me out on a date after having sex just once?” you tease as he grips the base of the condom and slides out, your pussy feeling the loss keenly. 

“I have been wanting to for a while. I was just wondering if I was misreading the signals. But I think I have a solid answer now.” He helps you sit up and cradles your body against his, idly stroking your skin, before gently removing the sensors off your body. 

“Let’s get dressed,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead after a moment of cozy silence, and the both of you hunt down your clothes. As he fixes his tie, Zayne passes by his computer and lets out an amused huff. 

“Something funny?” you ask as you button your blouse.

“The sensors definitely gave enough information to make anyone’s head spin.” You walk over and snort as you see the window, full of sharp spikes. 

“Well, at least I am guaranteed you had a good time.” Zayne’s eyes sparkle mischievously as he pulls you in for another kiss. 

“I’m not changing my doctor,” you reassure him as you pull away. There’s amusement in his gaze when he replies. 

“Oh, definitely not. I think if the Hunter’s Association ever sees this record, they’ll heavily advise you to remain with the same healthcare professional.” 

© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating support banner by @/ cafekitsune @theimmortalbuns @otomegamesforlife @sweets-kozume @actuallysaiyan

[kaciidubs]

Talk Dirty [Like You Need Love]

This song has me thinking heavily about expanding this into a fuller fic, so if people end up liking it, maybe I'll go ahead and finish it further! ✧ Summary: Chris was a great friend, picking you up from work whenever you had a late shift - so, it was only fair that you wanted to repay him. ✧  ✧ Word Count: 3.5k ✧ Warnings: Biker!AU, friends to ???, smut, slight dom! Chris, open ended ✧  ✧ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ✧  ✧ Additional Tags: Reader is referred to as Baby, Good Girl, Pretty, Chris is referred to as Baby, Channie ✧ Stray Kids Masterlist ✧ General Masterlist

The streetlights came and went in intermittent strobes, passing over the two of you as his motorcycle hummed along the sparsely occupied street.

Your arms were wrapped securely around his waist just as he’d taught you, the warmth of your body against his back combating the chill of the crisp night air - he really wished he hadn’t forgotten his hoodie in his rush to pick you up.

“Are you cold?” 

As if reading his mind, your voice floated through the comms of his helmet and he shook his head, “I’m alright, baby - don’t worry about me.”

Of course, you weren’t easily swayed - it was a quality he loved about you, no matter how much he preferred to be the one to look out for everyone else, you were always there to double back on him with undeterrable determination; proved by the way you leaned a little more against his back.

He wouldn’t have thought twice about your sweet gesture if it weren’t for the shifting of your arms, your hands slowly splayed against his torso.

“I always worry about you, Chris…” Your voice was soft, dripping with sweet honey as your right hand wandered its way higher, following the soft defined path of his chest underneath his shirt. “It’s hard not to, if I’m honest.”

He took a short breath, unsure if this was truly happening or if his mind was playing tricks on him and twisting your intentions to fit his deep seated desires.

That is, until your left hand carefully danced its way to his thigh, sitting nicely against the cotton of his sweatpants.

“You always do so much for everyone else- do so much for me,” your hand flexed, nails pressing lightly against his thigh, “I just wanna do something for you in return, you know?”

The bike slowed to a roll as you reached a stoplight, Chris keeping the balance with his otherwise unoccupied leg while taking the opportunity to hold onto the outside of your own thigh.

“Be careful with your words, baby - you might give me the wrong idea.”

“Are my actions not enough?” You murmured, inching your hand higher, fingertips brushing along the inseam of his sweats, “Should I do more, Channie?”

His hand left the brake clutch to wrap around your wrist, electricity flowing through your veins like a completed circuit. “You shouldn’t do this. We shouldn’t do this.”

“But I want this, I need this.”

Your hand squeezed, your voice filling his head like the intoxicating lull of a siren’s call.

“I need you.”

Green.

Chris tapped your thigh, ignoring the chill that ran down his spine when you seamlessly went back to holding onto him just like he taught you; arms around his waist, your body against his back.

The ride to his apartment felt like second nature with you - much like other things he did with you, if he were honest with himself - and the moment he pulled into his parking spot, his movements only felt more natural.

Switch engine off. Kickstand down.

Your hands slid up his back, gripping his shoulders as you eased yourself off of his motorcycle, and by the time your touch left him, Chris hopped from his seat with learned grace - his hands unbuckling and taking off his helmet in record time.

By the time your own helmet was off, cradled in your arms, his intense gaze caught your eyes, locking you in a stare off that said more than words could convey, yet their true meaning would be lost to memory with what left his lips.

“Are you sure about this?” He breathed, “Tell me right now and I’ll take you home, and we can pretend none of this happened - just, tell me.”

“Chris,” his name fluttered from your lips like butterfly wings, “I meant every word, I’m sure, I’m so sure-”

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours - the warmth of his palm settling on your cheek in a hold that dared your knees to give out from underneath you - but as fast as they’d appeared, they vanished, leaving you dazedly blinking up at deep brown eyes.

“C’mon.”

The journey up to his apartment was a blur; the melodic chime of the front door’s lock welcoming you to the final stage of your decision as he ushered you through the doorway.

Shoes haphazardly kicked off next to another pile of pairs and helmets stored on a shelf, the empty living room was graced with your presence for what felt like half a second before you were finally where you needed to be.

Chris’s room was a place you’d only been inside of a handful of times, if not to stick your head in to announce your arrival when hanging out with his roommates, then to visit whenever he had a new snippet of a song he wanted to share; there wasn’t a chance for a tour then, and there certainly wouldn’t be a tour now.

With a subtle flick of a switch, the once dark room was suddenly bathed in a dim glow from the led lights lining the ceiling - warm and welcoming, much like the arms that wrapped around you from behind, followed by a soft pair of lips you were quickly getting used to pressing against the junction of your neck and shoulder.

His hold grew tighter as his lips ventured higher - a dotted line of kisses, a brush of his breath against the back of your ear, followed by the ghost of his lips along the shell. 

“Are you still sure?”

Your eyelids fluttered, your lips parting to sigh out words evoked from the fantasies of your deepest desires, “I’m yours.”

He turned you around, and for the first time you were able to truly appreciate the feeling of his lips against your own - soft, likely from the myriad of lip care products your friends tease him for, a sensation you could find yourself craving every day and never growing tired of in the end.

You kissed him back with fervor, taking the liberty of cupping the line of his jaw with one hand while the other cradled the back of his neck, the faint curls of his hair tickling your fingertips.

Chris was the first to pull away, gifting you a fleeting peck when you tried in vain to follow him, just to reach overhead and tug his shirt up and off before unceremoniously dropping it to the floor. However, he barely gave you the chance to admire the view as his hands went to help you out of your hoodie while your own hands hastily went to tug up your shirt in the messy, frantic process.

Two articles down, the warmth of his hands were now free to meet your waist and his lips were on yours once more; his hold tightening as he took a step forward, nudging and guiding you backward until the backs of your legs met the edge of his bed. Obliging to his silent request, you sat down, using the strength in your arms to wiggle yourself up enough to lay comfortably on the full sized mattress and welcome the weight of him on top of you until it wasn’t.

Looking up, you were met with his heated stare, all but devouring you with his eyes as he took in the view - though, you figured you fared the same way when your eyes ventured down, following the strong slope of his shoulders before taking in the sight of his chest.

It wasn’t a view you hadn’t seen before thanks to his aversion of shirts in his own home - granted, it was his apartment, so you couldn’t fault him for the times he’d come out of his room to see you happily chatting away with his roommates unbeknownst to him - but you could now appreciate the details you wouldn’t have taken in otherwise such as defined pectorals and the smallest beginnings of abs against his otherwise soft stomach.

Ending the unintentional standoff, Chris lent forward, his fingertips just barely grazing your lower stomach as they went to the button of your jeans, “Can I?”

“Please.”

The corner of his lips ticked up but he ducked his head before you could see the smirk blossom, though you couldn’t find yourself to care once your jeans were undone, lifting your hips to help him shuffle the garment down the length of your legs and watching him give them the same fate as your shirts.

“These too?” He mused with a teasing lilt, eyes flicking from your own to the plain black panties you wore.

A short huff brushed past your lips, an unamused pout pursuing them. “Chris.”

The sound of his delighted giggles bounced off the walls, reducing the heat of arousal to a nice simmer that your nerves greatly appreciated - that is, until his fingers hooked underneath the waistband and slowly pulled them off; the sensation of his knuckles dragging along your thighs drawing a soft gasp from you.

It wasn’t long until they were down your legs, past your feet, and dropped off the edge of the bed, leaving you entirely bare from the waist down.

“Fuck…” He breathed, propping his knee on the bed as his hands slid up from your calves to the backs of your knees, caressing your skin before gently bringing them up and out - exposing your pussy to his pure delight. “Look at you, pretty girl.”

A wave of heat washed over you followed by an embarrassed whimper, “Chris, don’t say that.”

“Why not?” Looking up, he cocked his head slightly, “You said you were mine, which means I’m allowed to compliment what’s mine, yeah?” He bent down, maintaining eye contact as he kissed your knee softly, “You belong to me, right, baby?”

Your heart jumped to your throat, his words working like a spell against your lust addled mind.

“I belong to you.” You breathed softly, melting into his hypnotizing gaze.

A pleased hum vibrated through him as he dipped his head to kiss the inside of your thigh, his lips brushing against your skin, “Good girl.”

His kisses trailed higher and higher, growing messier and messier as he went - a nip here, a suck there, open mouthed and worshiping until he reached your pussy.

Just as he was about to dive in face first, your hand tugged at his hair, effectively breaking him out of his tunnel vision to give you his undivided attention.

“What’s wrong? Do you wanna stop? I can-”

“No! God, no - it’s just…” You took a deep breath, your bravado escaping you the instant you stopped him, “I want you to eat me out, but I wanna suck your dick too. I wanna make you feel good too, Channie”

“You wanna suck my dick, pretty?” A shiver ran down Chris’s spine at the mere thought, his dick painfully straining underneath his boxer briefs and sweats. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that? Words like that coming from a mouth like yours - you’re a fucking dream.”

His presence left from between your legs and part of you felt silly for missing it until you saw him reaching for his sweatpants - even through the black fabric you were able to make out the noticeable bulge tenting the front - the waistband of Calvin Klein nudging you in the right direction of what he wore underneath.

Pushing both articles past his hips, your eyes were immediately glued to the dips in his pelvis - the Adonis belt, a fitting alternate description of his v-line until your attention jumped to a scattering of hair beneath his navel leading to seemingly maintained pubic hair.

However, your peep show was obscured by his head as he bent forward to take his clothes off the rest of the way, giving you the chance to mentally prepare for the grand reveal. By the time he stood straight again, you couldn’t help the audible gasp that left you, your eyes widening as you took him in all his glory - all of the jokes his friends would make now having validity behind their digs.

“I hope that’s a good reaction…” Chris spoke sheepishly, his ears as red as a tomato as he averted his eyes to the side, one hand twitching to cover himself while the other anxiously rubbed the back of his neck.

“Chris,” your soft call was enough to bring his eyes back to you, just in time to see you undoing your bra and tossing it to the floor, “I really want you in my mouth, baby.”

The air of shyness quickly left him as he smirked, making his way back onto the bed, “Say please.”

Reaching forward, your fingers danced along the underside of his jaw before you whispered, “Please?”

It was almost instantaneous in the way you found yourself straddled over his face, his hands massaging the plush of your thighs as if he couldn’t get enough of the way they squished and jiggled under his hold.

You leaned forward, eyes eagerly taking in his dick from the new angle; he was thick, probably an inch over average if you had to guess, with the prettiest veins that begged for your tongue to trace them.

“Don’t force yourself to take me, okay?” He called from the other end, the feeling of his breath against your cunt sending chills down your spine. “I know I’m… y’know, big, so I don’t want you to hurt yourself to make me feel good - you letting me do this is more than enough, baby.”

“I can do it Channie,” spitting into your palm, you graciously took him into your hand with a slow stroke, “I’ll be okay.”

A low groan escaped him, your sudden touch sending him into the stratosphere, “Just- Be careful for me, alright?”

Humming in agreement, you wasted no time in littering his tip in butterfly kisses and kitten licks, slowly getting yourself used to the bittersweet taste of his precum.

“Shit…” Not holding himself back any longer, Chris slid his hands up to your hips before pulling you back onto his mouth, his tongue eagerly diving between your folds as if it were an ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day.

The action made you jolt forward, though you barely moved an inch thanks to his hold on you, your lips parting to let a moan float through.

“Mm, not too loud, baby,” he spoke against your pussy, kissing the hood of your clit, “don’t wanna wake up my roommates, yeah?”

As much as the idea called to something daring within you, you shook your head, using this as an opportunity to take the first few inches of his cock into your mouth; just enough to have the weight settle on your tongue while your hand stroked what you hadn’t gotten to yet.

“There you go.”

With that, he went back to exploring your pussy with his tongue, dipping past your walls every now and then before going back to dancing around your clit - his hands enjoying their new home on the curve of your ass.

To say the feeling of his mouth on you was mind numbing would’ve been the understatement of a lifetime - it was as if he was eating you out in the most respectfully disrespectful way, the sounds of his lips sucking your clit paired with low, breathless moans before he went back to lapping up your arousal was pure debauchery.

You tried your best to be diligent, bobbing your head in time with the curls of his tongue against your slit while your fist used whatever drool that dripped from your lips as lubricant to keep each stroke smooth and slick - your efforts not going in vain by the way his thigh would flex, or the twitch of his hips - but you were quickly falling victim to the pleasure.

“Taste so fucking good, baby,” he mouthed against your pussy, as if moving even an inch away would be detrimental to his psyche, “could stay here forever.”

The thought had you moaning around his cock, pulling away to give your lungs the reprieve of a full breath, only for a whined exhale to follow suit. “C-Chris, please.”

“Please, what?” Flattening his tongue, he licked a fat stripe up before giving your clit the lightest kiss imaginable, “Gonna come for me, pretty? Is that what you want?”

“N-No,” dropping your face to his thigh, you focused all of your energy into keeping your hand moving, “w-wanna make you come first, just- shit, just slow down a little!”

Chris hummed, feigning deep consideration, “But what if I want you to come for me?” His right hand slid further between your legs, his index finger stroking your fluttering walls with the promise of something more, “You said you wanted to repay me - so, let me make you come.”

Your hips bucked, muscles yearning to press back against the pressure to send you over the edge you were dangerously teetering over. “But-”

“Baby,” the velvet drawl of the pet name earned a pitiful hum in response, “you wanna make me feel good, don’t you?” He felt your head nod against his thigh, huffing out a short chuckle before continuing, “You wanna ‘repay’ me for everything I do for you, right?”

“Yes.” You sighed out, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his thumb replacing his finger in favor of toying with your clit.

“Well, guess what?” Dragging his thumb up, he pressed it against your slit, “Watching you come for me- Feeling you come for me is all I could ever want from you,” slowly pushing his thumb past your walls, he ghosted his lips against your inner thigh, “show me how good I’m making you feel, baby - do it for me, please.”

He punctuated his plea by swirling his tongue around your clit once more, thrusting his thumb in time with each flick while his left hand held your hip tightly.

Your mouth fell open, a moan fighting its way through your vocal chords only to come out as choked gasps, “Ch-ah- Channie- Fuck- Channie p-please-”

Pressing his thumb in to the knuckle, Chris wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, humming out a low moan that proved to be the final straw to push you over the edge.

“Chris- C-Chris-!” Lifting your head, you put your mouth over your arm in hopes of muffling the airy moans escaping you, your vision blurring behind pleasure-fueled tears as he worked you through your orgasm.

His thumb slipped from your entrance to make room for his tongue to lap up your cum, drinking you up like a tall glass of water after a day in the sun.

It didn’t take long for you to catch your bearings, going to move away from his face until his hands tightened on your hips in silent challenge, a disgruntled grunt rising from your pure audacity of interrupting him.

“Channie, ‘s too much,” you whined breathlessly, wrenching your hand away from his - still hard - dick in favor of pushing yourself up onto your arms, “c-can’t take it, baby, please.”

Pulling away with a lewd slurp, Chris heaved a heavy breath, combating the lightheadedness of his tunnel vision while you carefully maneuvered yourself away from him - shuffling around to hover your head over a pillow before collapsing in the empty space, your body gratefully welcoming the cool sheets against your skin.

Bated breaths danced in the otherwise quiet atmosphere, Chris’s gaze locked on the ceiling as his lust-fogged brain tried to make sense of what just happened between the two of you.

“Channie?”

His heart fluttered at your soft call of his name, turning his head just to come across a sight that made his breath catch; you, his friend, laying beside him looking beautifully ruined with the golden afterglow of your orgasm that he gave you emanating from your body.

He tentatively licked his lips, goosebumps rising as your taste still lingered in his mouth, “Yeah, baby?”

“I still wanna make you come.” You murmured softly, eyes blinking at him so innocently it almost felt wrong that it made his dick twitch at the sight. “I still owe you, after all.”

Chris huffed out a chuckle, lifting himself onto his forearm before hoisting himself above you, settling his hips between your legs as he caged you in with his arms - this was a sight he could get used to.

“Instead of making this out to be you repaying a debt, how about we turn it into a ‘thank you’ gift, hm?” Leaning his head down, he brushed his nose against yours, “You thank me for the ride and the orgasm,” his lips ghosted against your own, “then I thank you for thanking me.”

“Chris, that won’t make any sense,” your voice was barely a whisper, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, “if you thank me, I’ll just thank you back - we’ll be in a loop.”

“We’ll work out the details later, then.” He murmured before leaning forward, catching your lips with his and sharing your taste off of his tongue.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @s00buwu, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @bahng-chrizz, @milknhoneyracha, @hann1bee, @palindrome969, @newhope8, @kpopsstuffs, @starquokka, @wolfs-howling, @laylasbunbunny, @4-chan-inpadella, @butterflydemons, @kimahreummm, @ta3baee, @snowy-violet @bethanysnow

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[tadc-harlequin-au]

New Puppet Unlocked: Pomni, the Last Harlequin!

Pomni's character description:

I actually finished this about three days ago, but I didn't wanna post it because I haven't started on the others yet. I eventually decided that fuck it, we ball.

Pomni is the most recent and last model of a Combat Harlequin; P-1210. She doesn't have any remembrance of her life before becoming a Puppet, only the fact that she has an itch in her head that tells her to keep fighting.

After hunting down The Puppetmaster and a duel ensues between the two, it ends with the Harlequin and The Puppetmaster forming an alliance in order to fix the destroyed City.

Now, Pomni spends her time sparring, sharpening her sword, bantering with the Puppetmaster, hunting down bosses and eliminating manic Marionettes.

Fun facts about Pomni:

She likes sandwiches. Specifically, salmon.

She REALLY hates it when someone eats it. (It's Bubble)

She finds some things annoying in other Puppets, and will be blunt about it.

But that doesn't mean she doesn't care. In fact, far from it.

Pomni may come off as cold and jerkish due to her hot-temper, but in reality, her emotions simply have ahold on her more than anyone would ever really think.

Caine thinks that a therapist would benefit her. (honestly though)

She hasn't explored any hobbies outside from anything involving combat.

Pomni occasionally gets glimpses of visions when she dies; she is unaware of what they mean.

Pomni rarely gets drunk; she'll only indulge in alcohol when there's an occasion. Aside from that, she tends to limit Caine's alcohol intake (reasoning that he smells like booze), much to the Puppetmaster's dismay.

She shuts down any form of philosophical advices, thinking they're "typical" and "unnecessary".

She tends to be careless and rude in battle.

When push comes to shove, Pomni can and WILL use her sharp teeth to her advantage.

Pomni initially disliked Ragatha. She found the doll's positive demeanor eerie, and even uncanny, borderline inhuman. Thankfully, a few interactions and heart-heart conversations later, she's changed her mind since.

Bubble usually accompanies her when she's out on missions, a condition she had to agree on just so Caine would let her fight overburdened Puppets. Even though she hates the blimp's nonsense, she knows that his presence is out of necessity, since Bubble is the only way keeping in touch can be possible.

She rarely ever apologizes.

She once stole Caine's cane to try and figure out how his attacks work. She immediately lost interest once she found out it's just a plain, and boring metal cane.

She unlocks the first stage of enlightenment after the first boss.

Battle quotes:

"Yeah, yeah, shut up."

"I didn't come here just for you to act like a wuss!"

"You. Me. This sword. In your head."

"That was pretty stupid of you to do."

"Between you and me, I prefer still having my head on my shoulders."

"This is getting annoying!"

"I've had it with you idiots!"

"I'm gonna celebrate with a Puppet head kebab once I'm done."

"I like the sounds of a sword slashing, and heads bashed in."

"Keep (talking/screaming), and I'll crack your skull open."

Hurt in battle:

"Ah! What the fuck!"

"You're gonna pay for that!"

"Eye for an eye, motherfucker!"

"I normally wouldn't mind... Actually, I always mind."

"When I'm done, you're gonna be unrecognizable."

"Fucking marionettes!"

"Useless scrap!"

"I really, really, REALLY wanna hurt you right about now."

"Ohohoho, you're picking the WRONG fight, BUDDY."

"Asshat!"

"Who do you think you are!?"

Dying:

"This... wasn't supposed to go this way..."

"God.... dammit."

"Agh... fuck."

"That... fucking... hurt."

"I still...! Got fight...! Left in me..."

"This... isn't... over..."

"I'm... not... done..."

[tonixe]

hii i love ur writing and the k you for the noir fic!! there’s not enough content for the boys and i appreciate it so much!! can i request jealous homelander x reader? tyia!

♱ — rapacious — ♱

A/N: I was itching, with no craving to make a homelander fic, and ideas just ran through me, but thank you anon for requesting this, and letting my devious idea run free. P.S. Im not sure bout that black noir fic, this was asked in July, but yk thank you for still requesting <3. Btw H/N is hero name.

WARNING: oral sex, p in the v, no condom we fuck raw, creampies, non-con, tw: homelander, gagging, cursing, non-con, threats, forced breeding and nudity.

PAIRING: jealous! homelander x reader

WORD COUNTER: 2.1k

Life with Homelander was great, something so great that it makes you go insane, crazy...good crazy may be bad for some, but you could take it, right?

Vought, was another thing, watching over your shoulder and making sure everything went well, I mean with you there were a lot fewer casualties than usual. Soon things got less complicated with Edgar and Madelyn being gone from Vought, basically Homelander leading the company with Ashley as a puppet.

It was chaotic per se, where Homelander's watching eye was everywhere in the building. His leadership didn't make anything better but worse. With the seven keeping on being replaced and disappearing mysteriously, surprisingly you were still there with the same everything, no new rebrand, no nothing just staying in place.

You didn't mind it at all, I mean you still had a job and were still getting paid. Even with the weird shift of Black noir, instead of his quiet demeanor, he was talkative which was a change. It was evident it wasn't noir and everyone in the seven knew it, but nobody questioned it. You didn't mind but preferred the change, and even started talking to him.

He was a little better than old noir, not in combat but in being amusing, even spending time with outside meetings and regular superhero activities.

"So how the fuck did you manage to even fly like that?" You asked while you walked with him down the hallway,

"I have no idea, it just happened?" Black Noir II shrugged, you nodded at his words as you took a sip of the peanut butter frappuccino from Vought's cafe, it was a plus that he wasn't allergic to peanuts like the old noir. It wasn't a glow-up from the old noir but a plus. You two chatted as you got into the elevator, it was abruptly stopped by a red, white, and blue cape fluttering into wedging between you both, making you step back, it was Homelander.

The atmosphere immediately got tense than it was once a carefree mood, it was quiet.

"Good morning Homelander," you said, it was met with a nod from him, "Morning Sir," Black Noir said to him, only for him to glare at him, "Don't fucking talk" Homelander ordered, clearly annoyed that he was talking.

It was suffocating being in the elevator, you just took a sip of your frappuccino, praying for the elevator to open up quickly.

Guess your answers were answered rather quickly, as the doors of the huge elevator opened to the meeting room, the giant seven table in front of you.

The Deep, Sage, Firecracker, and A-train were already in their seats. "Good morning sir" The deep stood up, saluting him which made you laugh a little. You immediately took your seat next to Firecracker, and the meeting started. It was a blur to you, something like finding the leak in Vought, which you had many questions about.

The whole meeting was led by a different Sage, your eyes flicked towards Homelander, he was staring at Black Noir. You averted your eyes away,

God, you have to pay attention more often.

You couldn't help but take a sip of peanut butter frappuccino, "Would you fucking stop" Homelander's voice interrupted Sage's presentation, all attention was at him and he was staring directly at you.

"Um...Sorry" You hesitating looked back at him, and you felt eyes on you. You couldn't help but your heart to beat faster,

You watched Homelander rubbed his head in annoyance, closing his eyes before staring to you, "Could you slurp any louder?" He said, his voice dripping with annoyance and sarcasm.

"Sorry" You muttered, putting it back where it was,

"No..nope" Homelander repeated, he pointed at you again, "Be a good girl and put it in the garbage" He snapped. You looked around, with everyone staring at you, "Okay" you responded, slowly getting up from your chair, taking the cup in your hand, and throwing it in the garbage before sitting down.

"Good"

With that statement, the meeting continued on, with your face heating up in embarrassment, as you sank further into the chair.

Sage's voice engulfing your thoughts,

You got interrupted by a note being thrown at you, it was obvious it was from Noir that somehow got to you without Homelander looking, you grinned a little bit, secretly opening up the crumbled piece of paper.

[I'll buy you a new drink after the meeting] - Noir

You read the note, before turning your attention to him and smiling, quickly putting the note in the pocket of your suit before Homelander can see it. Combing your hair back and leaning back into your chair.

Soon the meeting ended, getting up from your seat, and everyone else was doing the same, yours scanned and the room soon landing on Firecracker still in her seat. But you didn't care much to ask why, but more excited to hang out with Noir after this awkward meeting.

"Everyone can go expect H/N" You heard Homelander's voice mentioning your name made you freeze. You stopped where you were, "You can go Firecracker" Homelander turned to her,

"But..um Homelander sir—"

"You can go," Homelander said again but in a more threatening tone, "Now" After he said she scrambled out of the meeting room.

Soon it was only you two left in the room, you watched hesitantly as Homelander turned to you. "Y/N, we need to talk," Homelander states, you could hear his voice straining, with concealed anger.

You looked up at him confused, "About..what?" You asked.

You watched as he walked around you, his pace was slow, you listened to his footsteps echoing around the empty meeting room, before he stopped suddenly, " Do you think I'm just stupid?" Homelander said, his tone catching you off guard.

It wasn't confusing that Homelander was speaking to you in anger, you rarely got him angry knowing you both were together and your relationship wasn't publicized due to his status.

"No, definitely not John," You replied, using his name instead of his hero alias, made him freeze before he stared at you.

Jealously was gnawing inside of him when he looked at you, "Tell me...are you fucking him" Homelander snapped at you, your brows knitted together in confusion at his words. "No, we're just hanging out—why would you ever think that?" You stuttered over your words, as Homelander walked closer to you.

He reached out for your face, harshly grabbing your chin with his hand, tilting your face to meet his eyes. You felt his glove hand digging into your face, his eyes closely turning red, you just felt fear, you were terrified. You knew he could smell your fear, and hear your rising heartbeat. "John...I would never cheat on you, I'm yours" You entreated, trembling under his grip.

Finally, his grip got looser and then he dropped your face, making you stumble a bit.

"Then show me," Homelander said,

You were confused about his words, "What?"

"If you love me..show me" Homelander sat down in the seat in front of you. It took you some time to process his words, confused at what he was saying, "Come on, strip for me" signaling towards your chest.

Your brows furrowing, "Come on, if you don't do it" Homelander leaned in his seat, "You won't like it if I do it" He finished,

"Now strip" He repeated, his tone more irritated.

You took a breath in and started undressing. Unzipping your suit, feeling the cool air on your bare skin. Your suit falling on the marble floor echoed through the room, leaving you in your bra and panties.

"Bra and panties too" Homelander eyed your chest.

You comply, putting your hand behind you and clipping your bra off, discarding it on the floor, and stepping out of your panties, leaving you fully naked in front of him.

"Come here" He patted his lap, "Crawl" he pointed at you. You sank down to your knees and crawled towards him and stopped in front of him. "Come on, you know what to do" You felt his hand on your cheek, stroking it.

You looked down at his growing member in his pants. Hesitatingly looking up at him through your lashes, as you started to undo the bottom of his suit revealing his cock, you looked up at him, "Use your mouth" You leaned in and inched his cock into your mouth, before taking him whole. Homelander moans out feeling your warm mouth enveloping his cock, feeling his hand gripping your hair making you wince.

You slowly bob your head down on his length, his grip on you getting tighter. Your ears perched up at his straining voice barely containing his whimpers as he watched you intently, taking him whole. "Fuck, your good at this" Homelander groaned, jerking you away, taking his cock out from your mouth. Staring at your disheveling appearance, spit dribbling on your chin.

His hand still fisting your hair, "Your pretty when your like this" Homelander chuckled, before forcing you down his cock, making you gagged. Tears prick on your waterline, saliva staining your chin, his grip never loosening as he abused your throat,  thrusting into your mouth, the sound of slick, the sounds of wet suction filling up the room.

His pace turning frantic, fucking your mouth.

Homelander threw his head back as waves of ecstasy washed over him. His hips buckled uncontrollably as he lets out a guttural groan, filling your mouth with his cum. "Fuck, ..." He pants, chest heaving, before he gripped your face, "Be a good girl and swallow it" He threatens, feeling the hot liquid going down your throat, swallowing it.

His grip loosening and releasing you. You panted for air, feeling his gloved-hand stroking your cheek. "Now, stand and lean over at table" Homelander ordered, as you got up from the floor and obeyed his order, propping yourself on the table, and bending yourself over the glass. You couldn't help but to feel excited for the pain, the slick dripping down your legs. You waited in anticipation,

Before feeling his cock stretching you out, biting down at your lip at the simmering pain, arching your back. His hands on back of your waist, "Fuck" you mumbled, gripping the end of the glass. Before he thrusting into you, "You think Noir would please you like I do" Homelander growled into your ear, his breath warm on your skin "N...no" you mumbled, feeling his cock tearing you open, feeling himself stretching your cervix.

His ministration was more painful next than the next, feeling his cock stabbing you over and over again. The sounds of flesh slapping filled the room, letting out a gasp, your voice wavering in pain. His thrust driving deeper into you, clenching down on his cock, feeling his grip digging into your skin.

You hated how you were slowly enjoying this, feeling yourself coming close to your climax. Your body tensing up as you feel your skin warming up,

His hips stuttering against yours, "Fuck, I'm close" You felt his hands stroking your hips, "What if I just cummed inside you, breed you myself, have my kids, and have a family...then ill have you to myself" He whispered,

You felt your heart in your throat, "Pull out" You tried to get away from stone grip, "Homelander, please" You begged, only for your face to be shove down on the glass table. Scrambling underneath his grip, just to get him off you. "please" you cried.

His pace getting frantic until he thrust into you for the last time, feeling on cue your body shuddering as he came into you. Feeling himself spilling inside you, making you freeze on the spot.

Feeling him finally pulling out of you, leaving you there stunned. He kissed your shoulder, the kiss feeling lingering on you.

You heard the sound of him putting his pants back on. He stared at you before walking towards you, before sighing, you turned your head to him, "I forgive you, you know" He said, his hand behind his back watching your pitiful form,

"Just don't do it again" he pats your head,

"Now get dressed, we have a date" He smiles, listening to his footsteps descending from you.

[olderthannetfic]

Can someone tell me when/why calling everything you don't like or get triggered by is now called "squick" or "ick"? It sounds so strange and unnatural to me. If squick and trigger is the same why not say just trigger? This is a genuine question.

--

Ahaha.

Anon, my child, the main answer here is that you are probably 20 years too young.

--

The collapsing of 'trigger' into "Stuff I don't like and now you have to listen to me!!!" is obnoxious as hell. I don't think we need to police the boundaries of triggers, but the general concept is that something triggers and episode of PTSD (or, in another context, triggers an allergy or whatever). It doesn't mean the content is double plus bad: it means you have a medical type issue that is literally induced to flare up by encountering the thing.

--

'Squick' was all over Usenet when I was a young thing in the 90s. I gather it came out of BDSM circles originally. By the time I'd heard of it, it had already been co-opted by trolls to mean the sound of skullfucking. (That's the dick through eye socket or trepanning hole meaning, not the vigorous blowjob meaning.)

A squick is something that makes you go "Ew! Gaaah! Back button! Back button!" Like listening to the sound of brain matter squishing as a dick is forced into a skull, for example. Squick, squick, squick, squick.

It's more than just something you don't like: it's something that inspires a visceral "Get it away!" reaction.

The point of the term was and is to have a way to say that a kink grosses you out personally without implying that it is necessarily gross for others. It was useful for negotiating BDSM scenes and equally useful for talking about your fic preferences.

'Squick' was a staple of fandom jargon on Livejournal all through the 00s. Fans on Tumblr routinely say we should start using it more frequently again precisely to combat the flagrant misuse of 'trigger'.

--

"Ick" I've only seen much more recently in fandom, usually in the form of "__ gives me the ick". Urban Dictionary makes me think this has spread everywhere in the 2020s—perhaps via reality tv or twitter or something? I use it myself, but I couldn't tell you who I caught it from.

There are plenty of older definitions, and I do vaguely recall hearing "the ick" used in the early 00s as a general term for the flu/a passing virus/etc. 'Ick' as an exclamation and 'icky' as an adjective are just regular words. But this particular flavor of "the ick" does strike me as a newer fad even if there are a few old definitions that seem to match.

[kurokawaia]

❛ DON'T CARE !! ❜

Genin! Sasuke Uchiha X Fem!Genin!Reader

WC; 1k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; no triggers apart from sasuke himself, x fem reader, reader is apart of team 7, reader is a genin, reader is a ninja

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) Reader and Sasuke who are on team 7 together, with Sakura getting jealous that Sasuke prefers reader over her. Sakura always tries to butt in on their convos but Sasuke just ignores her or tells her off. 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 love your work so much 🤍🤍🤍 - ANON

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

You and Sasuke just finished a training session in combat so you were sweaty and gross. Although, Sasuke didn't really want you to leave him, you could feel it, that he wanted you to stay. So now, your legs swing gently from a small stone wall near the training ground. Next to you, sat Sasuke who was leant forward with his elbows propped on his knees. 

You shoot a glance over at Sasuke, who is staring out into the training field, his eyes distant. A stifled smile quivers at the corners of your mouth, his one-track mind amuses him, he's just so serious. You can't say that, though, before the sound of footsteps reaches your ears and the comfortable silence is broken by a familiar voice. "Sasuke-kun!" Sakura's overly happy voice broke the peaceful silence. 

You bite back a sigh as she sprints up, stopping right in front of the two of you. "Do you want to train with me later?" Sakura asks, eyes wide and hopeful staring only at Sasuke. You can't help but feel a slight awkwardness as she comes to the two of you, Sasuke doesn't want her here. She doesn't even glance your way, and though you're used to that, it's hard not to feel you are some sort of third wheel when she's present. 

However, Sasuke is normal, where he does not even look remotely fazed by her presence. 

Not even bothering to look up from where he sits. "No," Sasuke answers shortly, his tone uninterested. You send a sideways glance to Sakura in time to catch her face falling, though she covers well, forcing a tight smile. "B-but... we're teammates, right? It'd be good to practice together," she presses her voice sounding as if she was pleasing now.  This time, Sasuke simply lifts his head to give her a sideways glance. "If I wanted to train, I'd ask her," he replies annoyed, his head motioning towards you without missing a beat. Sakura's false smile falters, and her gaze-really catches yours for the first time, in that second, the flicker of jealousy is there in the eyes before it is hidden fast. 

"Oh, right," she mutters, thrown off clearly by Sasuke's dismissiveness which shouldn't be odd because he always does it... It isn't the first time Sakura tried to force her way into your conversations with Sasuke. She's always been relentless in ways concerning him, and that determination to be near him more often than not leaves you in this position. "Well, maybe the three of us can train together?" she attempts again. But Sasuke's having none of it. "No," he says sharply, finally twisting his head fully to look at her. "I don't want to train with you.: The bluntness hangs in the air, and you watch in discomfort as Sakura's face twists with hurt, her eyes darting briefly between you and Sasuke. "Sasuke-kun, I—" she starts, but he cuts her off.

"I want to talk to her alone," he adds.

She looks down to the ground, her cheeks red in embarrassment. 

"Oh... okay," she stammers out in barely a whisper. 

She lingers for a moment as if waiting for Sasuke to take back his words, but when nothing is said, she turns on her heel and starts to walk away, her shoulders slumped in defeat. You feel a little guilty just watching her go. "You didn't have to be that harsh," you tell him, turning back to Sasuke, an eyebrow raised at him. He shrugs. "She was being annoying," he says simply. You laugh and shake your head. "You know, there's such a thing as being nice, Sasuke." "Hn," he grunts, falling back onto his hands and tilting his head up to the sky. "It's not my problem if she can't take a hint. You roll your eyes, but can't help the small smile that plays on your lips. That's just direct, sometimes a bit too much, but honest. It's one of the reasons you're able to sit with him like this and feel utterly at ease. Unlike others, you don't have to guess what he's thinking.

But sometimes, you don't know what he's thinking, you wonder if he is going to change. "Still, you really didn't have to shut her down like that in front of me. I feel like I'm caught in the middle of your weird rivalry," you tease, crossing your arms over your chest. Sasuke utters a soft "tch," one that is barely worthy of a response in itself. He turns to you sideways. "I'd rather be here with you." The words catch in your throat, and for a moment, you're not sure if you've heard him right; he said it so nonchalantly. Still, with Sasuke, you know there's a weight attached to those words. So used to him being cold and distant from anyone else, but he's always been different from you. You let a soft smile spread across your face, and you lean into him lightly with your shoulder. "Wow, the great Uchiha Sasuke actually enjoys someone's company. What's next? You're going to start giving me compliments?" He gives you that look. "Don't push it." You giggle, falling back onto your hands once more. Sasuke shifts beside you, his arm brushing yours. It was a tiny, almost imperceptible gesture, but it set your heart racing. Neither of you does anything to pull away. You look across the training grounds to find Sakura staring at you, her face red with jealousy. "You know," you say after some time, breaking the silence, "you should try being nicer to her sometimes. She's not all bad." Sasuke says nothing at first, and for one moment you think he's just going to ignore that comment of yours. But then he speaks, quieter than a moment before. "I don't care about her." You turn your head towards him slightly, your brow furrowing a bit. "Then what do you care about? There is a long pause, Sasuke meets your gaze, his dark eyes unreadable just like they have always been. You almost think he is going to avoid the question, but then his lips open ever so slightly. "You," he says, barely above a whisper. Your heart stutters, and for once, you are at a loss for what to say. Sasuke doesn't look away, he stares into your eyes with a serious intensity that somersaults your stomach. You finally smile after ages have passed, your voice soft. "You're such a softie, Sasuke. He glares at you, his eyes flashing-but the faint blush dusting his cheeks is a dead giveaway. You laugh softly, light and easy, and he lets out a low "tch," turning his head away, not before you catch the barest hint of a smile on his lips.

Do not copy, steal, modify, use for AI, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

taglist :: @enouche @lovelyandproblematic

@sugu-love @why-are-you-still-awake

[chris-prank]

Yandere villain sidekick NSFW drabbles

CW: NSFW (obviously), sneaky masturbating while on a call, soft masochist, allusion of reader giving but also receiving and sub yandere

You can go check Dr. Seraph's Part 1 here! Since some of the things here will reference it!

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

The more time went on after he had this special encounter with you, the more his imagination started to go into… naughty territories. At first he scolded himself for thinking such things about you, but slowly he started to accept his lewd fantasies as he timidly rubbed his bulge. In the end, pathetic whines escaped his lips while he rutted his closed dick into his palms, wishing you were the one touching him.

Dr.Seraph's not the type to be fighting on the field. Usually he is behind his computer or monitor, watching his inventions do the heavy work for him. At the very least he will use weapons that don't require hand to hand combat. Since Vincent uses intercoms to talk to you, nothing can stop him from doing other activities during fights. While he interacts with you, he sometimes pathetically strokes his dick, trying his best to keep down his moans.

You’re too busy anyway to hear his whimpers and if not, you just think his creations are connected to him in some way. He must be crying out in pain! 

Watching you destroy everything in your path, while groaning and flexing your perfect body makes him cum in a matter of seconds. You’re already so hot when you’re covered in sweat, he would kill to see you oiled u—WHO SAID THAT! 

I think we can all easily guess that this guy has a huge praise kink. Nothing can turn him on more than you whispering into his ear how much of a good and smart boy he is. 

Like I said before, Dr. Seraph is a bit of a masochist even if he doesn’t like to admit it. What he loves the most is if you go back to being soft right after you slap, spank or bite him. In his head it’s proof that no matter how many times you fought him, deep down you cared about him just like you do now. 

After pressing your foot on his cock, praise him and gently rub his length in a comforting way, that will make his eyes roll back.

Vincent loves feeling like he is being taken care of, so please take him in your arms while you ram yourself into him or bounce on his dick.

He wants to be close with you as much as he physically can, that being a result of his years of fighting you from afar. He especially relishes in nuzzling his head against you, whatever it be your stomach, your chest, etc. 

No matter the position, he prefers it when you are towering over him. He just wants to admire you in all your glory. 

He cries a lot during sex, his cock and prostate are just that sensitive.

Also very very shy while doing it. He might try to hide his face multiple times, especially if you do some dirty talk. You can use this to your advantage to do some light teasing. 

Despite Vincent being a very small guy, let's say that his dick compensates for it by being over average, measuring 7 inches when hard (yes he is indeed proud of it.)

He doesn’t talk much during sex, not that he isn’t vocal, quite the contrary. You will know he is enjoying it if he keeps making whimpers and moans. 

 It’s just that the pleasure makes it very difficult for him to put coherent phrases together. The most he can do is say two or three words at a time. 

Aftercare is a must! He really wants to be able to cuddle and relax in your arms when everything is done. It’s like the cherry on top for him, it brings everything together. 

If you were really rough with him he might fall asleep against you quickly, however it's not because he is unconscious that his arms will let you go out of his grasp. 

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

[avocad1s]

Trial By Combat 7

Requested By: No one. Original Work.

CW: Mentions of war

Summary: The magician and the Traveler exchange information

Note: Psst… guys… it’s here!!

Part One -> Part Six

-

Focalors and the Iudex has concluded their affairs in poor taste. They had left the meeting with more questions rather than answers, and their suspicions only increased a tenfold. Not a word Arlecchino said during that meeting could be taken blindly, she was a harbinger and everyone knew how they operated. To think the Fatui would put the creators safety at risk was a line that should never be crossed.

Only the Knave leaves the Palais Mermonia with a calm air around her. The large group of Fontainians who stood outside the building watched her leave, hoping to get slivers of information from the woman. She walks right through the group, heading towards her decoy ship. She wasn’t dumb enough to bring the ship that had you on it back to the harbor. Someone might be skilled enough to sneak aboard, or worse, you might get off.

Despite the time of day, the streets of Fontaine were quiet. The soft drizzle of rain over the nation seemed to be never ending and the Knave was the only person who was out for a careless stroll that late afternoon.

Once the harbinger rounded the corner, getting closer to the harbor she noticed a small shoppe selling sweets. The Knave didn’t necessarily have a sweet tooth but perhaps you did?

She walks towards the shoppe, staring intently at the goods while the shopkeeper had an uneasy look on his face.

“Was there something you’d like?” the shopkeeper asks, trying his best to swallow his nervousness.

Her eyes flicker to the confectioneries again. She hasn’t had much time to study you, so she wasn’t sure what your taste was. Did you prefer chocolates? Sour candy? Nougat? Arlecchino clicks her tongue. She wants to win your favor, especially before she docks in Snezhnaya.

“I’ll take one of everything you have.” She states.

The shopkeeper stammers. “O-One of everything?”

“Is that not possible?” She questions. “If it’s the mora you worry about, I assure you I have it.”

The shopkeeper hesitates for a moment longer before he quickly begin to pack all of the sweets and candy into two boxes tied perfectly with a red bow. Arlecchino drops a pouch filled with mora onto the counter.

“T—thank you for your patronage!” He says happily as she leaves with the two boxes in her hand.

———

Once the Knave left, you never exited your room. Although you could hear the soft whispers of Fatui agents who debated entering the room. Most of them saying they just want to see you themselves or wanting to check if you needed anything.

You roll your eyes, ever since you woke up in that bed in Fontaine’s hospital you haven’t had time to yourself. Sure you could scream for them to get out and leave you alone, but they would never go too far. Just staying out of sight to avoid invoking your wrath again.

“Your Grace.”

A voice breaks you out of your irritation. It was the Knave. She had returned already… or maybe hours have already passed? You couldn’t tell.

Her gaze flicks down at the plate in front of you. “I see you’ve ate all of your meal. Good.”

Your eyes drift over to the boxes in her hands and she quickly notices your gaze.

“Do you have a sweet tooth, Your Grace?” she asks.

Arlecchino opens one of the boxes presenting the inside to you, it was filled with many candies and baked goods all placed in an orderly fashion.

“I happened to pass a shoppe on my way back to the ship,” she explains. “You haven’t had the time to try any of Fontaine’s desserts so I bought you a few things.”

You raise a brow, looking at both boxes. A few things?!

“Thank you.” You finally say after a moment of silence, you reach into the box bringing one of the treats to your lips and taking a bite.

The Knave smiles in approval, closing the box but placing it close enough for you to reach.

“There’s actually a few things I wanted to talk about.” You say after swallowing.

Arlecchino nods, “Of course. Whatever you wish.” Her eyes focus on you, waiting patiently for you to begin speaking again.

“Oh! Um… I’d like to know more about the Fatui and its harbingers.” you say.

Her eyes narrow slightly, as she taps her chin. “Where should to begin….” Arlecchino states.

-

It’s was lights out in the Fortress of Meropide. Guards patrolled the area making sure all of the inmates were in their designated dorms. While the Duke sat in his office with a cup of tea in his hand. The champion duelist, Clorinde sat across from him, a calm expression on her face.

“You arrived late,” Wriothesley comments, “did you come here to enjoy a cup of tea with me?”

Clorinde huffs, “Certainly not. I came here to inform you about the situation.”

Wriothesley sets down his teacup, “have you been able to locate Their Grace yet?”

“No…” Clorinde sighs, looking down at her lap. “Monsieur Neuvillette and Lady Furina had a meeting with the Knave. It didn’t leave much to be desired… we still cannot confirm if the Knave is responsible for their disappearance.”

Wriothesley leans back in his seat, resting his chin in his palm.

“What are you thinking about?” Clorinde questions.

“Have you heard of those children from the House of the Hearth?” Wriothesley asks.

Clorinde’s eyebrows furrow, “Lyney and Lynette? I have, they were on trial not long ago but were proven innocent.”

Wriothesley nods, “They’re currently in the Fortress for stealing… but i’m sure it was the Knave who sent them here to look into her colleagues whereabouts. I even noticed them asking about the forbidden zone.”

Wriothesley picks up his teacup, “I haven’t taken any action against them yet, since i’m curious where Tartaglia went myself.”

“Do you think it’s possible he escaped?” Clorinde asks crossing her arms.

Wriothesley shrugs, “I’m not sure, but I am sure that we could use those children as a bargaining chip against the Knave.”

“It’s clear those three care deeply about each other…” Wriothesley says. “I’m sure with enough… motivation we can get the evidence we need and get the Knave to return to Fontaine.”

“And what about the forbidden zone?” Clorinde asks changing the subject.

He sighs, “It’s not doing any better. It’s getting closer to the red zone, and if it reaches that, that primordial sea water will overflow inside the Fortress and soon all of Fontaine.”

Clorinde nods, “I’m not even sure Lady Furina or Monsieur Neuvillette have even thought about the prophecy since—“

“I’m aware.” Wriothesley interrupts, “but if we don’t act now, Their Grace won’t have a Fontaine to return to.”

It falls silent in the room for a moment.

Clorinde lets out a sigh as she stand up from her seat. “Well, I have other duties to attend to, if anything else of importance comes up, i’ll be sure to inform you.”

“You’re sure on’t want to stay for a cup of tea first?”

———

———

Unlike most of the inmates, Paimon and the traveler weren’t asleep. They sneak past the guards investigating the Fortress under the cover of darkness until a certain voice quiet calls out to them.

“Hey! Over here!”

Behind a large pillar stood Lyney his head poking out as he waved at the duo.

Aether and Paimon exchange glances.

“You scared Paimon! How did you just appear out of nowhere?”

“Oh? You scare so easily now? Is there something worrying you these days?” Lyney teases with a grin.

Paimon crosses her arms, eyes narrowing, “You little...”

Lyney laughs, “Sorry, sorry. Get over here! and keep it down.”

The two approach the magician and notice his twin sister standing behind him.

“Oh Lynette! You’re here too!”

Lynette nods, “that’s right. My brother just cannot stand to be away from me.”

Lyney rolls his eyes then clears his throat, “Freminet is here too. Do you remember him?”

“Oh that one diver from the House of the Hearth? We’ve seen him around the Court of Fontaine before.” Paimon says.

“Now spill!” She adds, “We worked so hard to get you two off the hook and you still ended up here.”

Lyney lets put a dramatic sigh, taking his hat off his head. “Sadly, even the tiniest things can get you arrested these days. It was a small performance with a large crowd, the opera house incident left us pretty famous.”

“And then?”

“Well then guests wallets suddenly disappeared!”

“My brother was charged with theft and I was charged as his accomplice.” Lynette explains.

“The missing wallets are all in the leftmost drawer of the Maison Gardiennage's big filing cabinet. We just need to see how long it takes to discover them.” Lyney says. “In my opinion, the trick itself was preformed perfectly.”

Aether raises a brow, “So you got sent here on purpose. Why are you really here?”

Lynette glances at her brother and he nods.

“The last time I hid my identity from you. I promised not to keep secrets from then on. We are are friends so…” He places his hat back on his head. “We were instructed by “Father” to conduct an investigation.”

“I knew it! Paimon guessed right.”

“If you don’t know my dear friends, the Fortress hides a large secret. Many even believe the Fortress was built to keep this secret hidden.”

“The House of the Hearth have been investigating this secret for a while now, wanting to uncover the mystery. But then all of our informants, including the ones within the guards suddenly disappeared.” Lyney tells the two.

“We believe it’s a direct provocation. Suddenly all of our informants disappear in a matter of days.” Lynette says.

Aether brings a hand to his chin, ‘a few days? is it somehow related to the Creator’s disappearance?’

“Why is the House so interested in this secret?” Aether asked.

“Somehow, “Father” managed to confirm the Focalors does not have the Gnosis. She believes the secret of the Fortress must be related to that.”

Paimon groans, “so it’s all about the Gnosis again.”

“Well that’s about it from our end.” Lyney says. “What about you two? Did Monsieur Neuvillette send you here?”

“Bingo!” Paimon points, “Neuvillette wants us to investigate. The Knave has been putting a lot of pressure on him about Childe so we came here. We’re also hoping to find out more information about Their—“

“The prophecy.” Aether interjected shooting his travel guide a look. “He’s also concerned about the prophecy.”

“Ah yes, the prophecy!” Lyney says, “Father is worried about it too… hey I have an idea, why don’t we team up? The House of the Hearth has many reasons to seek the Gnosis, but our highest priority remains resolving the prophesized crisis. You can trust us on that.”

Aether sighs shaking his head, “Sorry, I must refuse.”

The twins had a look of disappointment on their faces.

“See? I told you…” Lynette grumbled.

“I see… it might be pretty difficult to get you two to cooperate with us.”

“Lyney has been looking forward to reaching an understanding with you since we’ve met.” Lynette admits.

“Just tell them everything why don’t you Lynette…” Lyney says his face growing red.

His sister places a hand on his shoulder, “it’s okay to open up a little…”

Aether sighs pinching the bridge of his nose, “Fine. We can work together, but only exchanging important information. Nothing more.”

The magicians smile, “Wonderful! I was prepared for the worse but your prudent attitude is just as consistent from the first time we met. But since we’re exchanging information now, here’s something you might like.”

“During our investigation, we discovered a place called the forbidden zone.” Lyney begins, “most people wouldn’t talk about it at first but we soon learned from the guards that this place does exist.”

“A forbidden zone…? Could that be where Childe disappeared to?” Paimon questions.

“We’re not entirely sure yet. Although we confirmed its existence, we still haven’t found it ourselves.” Lyney replies.

“Anyways that the most useful information we have as of now, we’re still doing some more investigating but hopefully it can prove most useful to you.”

Aether nods, “We should return to our dormitories, the guards shift change will be happening soon.”

Lyney and Lynette nod. “Very well. I’ll use my cards to get in touch with you in the future, but until then—“

Lyney pulls one of his signature cards from behind his ear, before him and his sister disappear from sight.

-

-

“So Lyney and Lynette are here for the gnosis.” Paimon says, once they return back to their dorms.

“Let’s not forget what Neuvillette told us. The vial found in Their Graces hospital room, whatever was in it originated from Snezhnaya. The House of the Hearth are used to sneak missions so maybe it was them who brought the vial to the Creator.” Aether explains and Paimon nods.

“That makes Paimon think, is Childe even missing? Or was this a ploy from the beginning and now Childe and the Knave are returning to Snezhnaya with them?”

“There is definitely more information to be discovered” Aether adds, “But for now we should focus on getting some rest and continue our investigation tomorrow.”

Paimon yawns, “You’re right. All this thinking is making Paimon sleepy.”

Aether lays down on his back, his gaze focused on the ceiling until his eyes grow heavy and he falls asleep.

JADE CHAMBER , LIYUE

Ningguang and the rest of the Qixing sat at the large table in the Jade Chamber. There were papers piled up on the table, old scriptures related to the Creator and of Fontaine’s history. Including the Steambird post that was posted after their conviction.

The head of the Qixing was growing increasingly frustrated despite her neutral tone. Ever since it arrived in Liyue from Captain Beidou, she had reread the document every hour. She could recall all the punctuation used in the newspaper.

“I’ve sent many letters to the Hydro Archon.” Keqing says her hands laced in front of her. “It’s been close to a week and still no response.”

Ningguang sighs, “I see. It seems like they do not have any intentions of discussing this. We might have to send a diplomat, perhaps they’d be more willing for a peaceful discussion in person.”

“I agree.” Ganyu says, “but the Adepti are growing restless… they want to make the trip themselves to save Their Grace.”

“Have the Adepti even left Liyue before?” Yelan questioned from her spot in the corner.

“Not for a long time, they are still fulfilling their contract… but there is a stipulation in the contract that Their Grace comes above all else.”

Keqing sighs, “this is a mortal matter, we don’t need their involvement.”

Ningguang looks back down at the paper, “Considering the fact that it was a mortal who struck down Their Grace, they might not see it that way. But we can’t afford to expend our resources to keep the Adepti in check.”

“Leave them to me,” Ganyu reassures, “If the Adepti truly do get involved, I fear it might start another war…”

A chill fills the room and Ningguang stand up brushing her hair away. “That’s a worse case scenario… let’s hope it doesn’t come down to that.”

“There are other matters as well,” Yelan suddenly says, her fingers brushing against the jacket on her shoulders.

“I saw one of the harbingers… the Regrator here in Liyue yesterday. At first, I was watched his movements and all he did was pull all the money out of the Northland bank and closed it until further notice.”

Ningguang raises a brow, “Is he still in Liyue?”

“No.” Yelan shakes her head. “He took the first ship back to his homeland early this morning… but it feels suspicious to suddenly close the most profitable bank the Fatui has.”

“I can go to Fontaine, I’ll be the diplomat and confirm Their Grace’s status.” Keqing says while standing up.

“I’m going to return to Jueyun Karst,” Ganyu states. “I’ll try my best to keep the Adepti in check. If anything problems arise, I’ll send word as soon as possible.”

“Thank you all of you,” Ningguang says, “Our main priority should be confirming the safety of Their Grace and hopefully bringing them here to Liyue.”

-

“…r Grace…”

“Your… G”

“Your Grace…”

Your eyes open. When did you fall asleep?

You sit up rubbing your eyes noticing an unusual chill in the air, all of a sudden it felt like winter. Yet at the same time, you noticed you had on a black and white coat, it had the same insignia that was on the side of the boat.

“Your Grace…”

You look over, it was Arlecchino calling for you again and again. She was also in a similar coat.

“Are you cold?” She asks.

“A little bit.” You admit, even with the coat on you still felt a chill on your bones but you weren’t sure if it was due to the weather or the extremely dangerous individual next to you.

“Don’t worry there are a lot of fireplaces inside.” She says.

She grasps your hand gently leading you up the stairs to the top of the ship.

It was extremely bright, practically blinding as the sun shined down on the thick layer of snow that went on as far as you could see. Even with the sun shining, none of the snow and ice seemed to melting. Off in the distance was a large palace, it was decorated beautifully and was completely coated in ice.

Your attention is then drawn to the dock, there were seven individuals standing looking up at you. Although most of them had a mask on their face, you could tell they were all waiting with baited breaths.

The one in the middle, a mask covering half of his face and with white hair bows towards you slightly and the others follow suit.

“Welcome to Snezhnaya, Your Grace.”

© avocad1s 2024

Note: HAHA I BEAT NATLAN 🙏🙏🙏🙏 ehem… anyways… I hope you enjoyed this part! and like always i appreciate your patience love you all and i hope you win your 50/50 for any character you want 🫶🏽

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if it’s bold, for some reason i couldn’t tag you!

[pin-k-ink]

insubordination // narumi gen

tw ⇢ dub-con, lieutenant!reader, strong sexual tension, degradation/name calling, dirty talk, dry humping, nipple play, making out, power imbalance, pet names, groping, blowjob, breeding kink, creampie, squirting, slight exhibitionism but nobody actually sees anything, fingering, face fucking

wc ⇢ 4.3k

"Staring a little hard there, aren't we Captain?"

Gen's lips curved in a predatory smirk at your taunting lilt. His smoldering gaze didn't waver an inch from where it locked onto the swell of your breasts straining against the top half of your combat suit.

"Well, can you blame a guy for admiring the view?" he rumbled without a shred of shame, lazily prowling a circle around you. "Especially when my insolent little underling insists on parading those around so shamelessly..."

You bristled at his blatant insinuation, crossing your arms over your chest reflexively despite the way it accentuated your cleavage even more obscenely. Gen's blown pupils tracked the motion with raptor-like focus, tongue darting out to wet his full lips slowly.

"I'll thank you to stop eyeing me like a piece of meat, Captain Narumi," you bit out, even as heat flooded your cheeks.

Rather than looking chastised, your captain let loose a dark chuckle that seemed to reverberate against your skin in wicked promise. He came to a stop directly in your line of sight again, hips canting just enough for the material of his suit to stretch taut over the impressive bulge swiftly tenting there.

"And just how would you prefer me to look at you, sweetheart?" Gen purred, voice dripping simmering sin as he palmed himself openly. "Like someone who's been tormenting over the thought of you unwinding that stick up your ass for years? Desperate to finally get my mouth and hands all over those perfect fucking tits until you're completely ruined?"

An involuntary whimper rattled up from your constricted throat at his filthy confession. Despite yourself, you found your gaze zeroing in on the lewd glide of his palm dragging up the rigid shape of his concealed cock as if mesmerized.

Before you could summon any shred of wherewithal to protest, Gen rolled his hips upwards to meet his stroking hand in one salacious grind that utterly robbed you of breath. His blown pupils tracked your reaction with laser focus, that same arrogant smirk only widening across his handsome features.

"See something you like, babe?" he taunted in a velvety rumble. "Because I can promise the reality is even better than whatever dirty little fantasies you've been entertaining alone at night..."

With a sinuous roll of his shoulders, Gen shucked his jacket off in one smooth motion - every honey-toned ridge of chiseled muscle flexing in visceral definition. You couldn't tear your traitorous stare away even if ordered to at gunpoint. Not when it felt like he was searing every lush, feminine curve and dip with that piercing scarlet glower alone.

"It must get so hard having to sit through those meetings all wound up like this," he growled gutturally, running that greedy, assessing gaze over your rigid posture in dark approval. "Struggling to keep it together while imagining how my thick cock might feel stuffing that sweet little mouth of yours to the hilt..."

Your mewl of protest only seemed to embolden him further. Zipper pulled down to better display the taut, sculpted planes of his abdomen as he stalked in a prowling circle. Gen came up behind you like a panther finally closing in for the kill, plastering his scorching frame all along your backside with insistent pressure.

"Or maybe wondering how easily those pretty tits would spill over my palms," he husked directly into your ear, nosing aside the disheveled curtain of your hair. "So heavy and ripe for sucking while I split you apart on this thick dick...?"

His rough palm found the generous swell of one breast without preamble, squeezing and palming the ample weight with carnal appreciation as you jolted in his confining clutches. Gen wasted no time rolling your hardened nipple between calloused fingers in tight, pinching spirals that had you hastening to stifle a throaty wail of rapture.

"Is this how you want me admiring the view, lieutenant?" he growled against your nape, dragging a searing path of bruising suction down the column of your straining throat. "Or should we take this back to your quarters so I can give you the long, hard look over you've been aching for..."

With a merciless yank, he spun you around to face him fully - chest heaving and lips parted around shuddering pants. Gen made no effort to conceal the way his searing gaze dropped directly to your chest again, or how his wicked tongue flicked out to wet his lower lip as if chasing your sweet, musky essence already.

"Your move, pretty girl," he purred in rich provocation. "Just know that once I get those luscious tits in my mouth...I won't be stopping until you're an utterly broken, soaking mess beneath me. And you'll thank me for every second of it."

The naked promise driving his every smoldering word resonated straight down to the throbbing, slick heat blazing between your thighs with dizzying ardor. Narumi Gen was no mere arrogant blowhard in this moment...but instead an apex predator radiating undeniable, primordial intent to stake his full, merciless claim upon you at last.

And every fiber of your being positively burned to surrender yourself over to the ruinous inferno raging within those blown crimson depths utterly and without a shred of resistance left to muster.

Gen's palms bracketed your jaw with scorching insistence, forcing your widened gaze to remain locked on his as he drank in the flush staining your cheeks. You trembled violently under that crimson scrutiny, each ragged exhale fanning across his parted lips in tantalizing wisps.

"Look at you..." he rasped out in a tone all gravel and sin. "So perfectly primed just from a little harmless groping, sweetheart? Fuck, you must be feeling so achingly empty inside without my thick cock stretching you open properly..."

A strangled whine rattled up your constricted throat, fingers knotting in the front of his rumpled uniform as if to ground yourself against the rising tide of delirious need. Gen simply drank in the sight of you rapidly unraveling with dark, glittering approval - shifting his hips forward to prod the heavy ridge of his cock straining against his pants between your splayed thighs brazenly.

"I can feel how soaked you already are through these fucking pants," he snarled in evident rapture. "That gorgeous little cunt of yours dripping everywhere just craving to be stuffed full and pumped with my cum over and over..."

You keened brokenly at the vulgar promise underlying his words, nails scoring down the sleek musculature of his chest as he rolled his hips in a teasing grind. He hissed out a breath at the rake of blunt trails, only to latch back onto you with twice the bruising intensity.

"Yes...let me see just how deliciously ruined you can get before submitting fully."

With a leonine growl of possession, Gen crashed his mouth over yours in a searing, punishing slide of silken heat and tangling velvet. You melted helplessly against the unforgiving brand of his chest, whimpering as his questing tongue speared past your slick seam to lash against yours with blistering dominance.

His hands roamed in greedy, urgent paths along your trembling form - groping and palming every lush curve as if mapping the exquisite terrain by touch alone. You writhed wantonly into each rough caress, chasing that merciless friction as he ground his fat cock against your swiftly drenching pussy.

Something rapturous kindled behind your fluttering lids, burning molten and blinding in its intensity as Gen's artful plundering quickly unraveled your every remaining thread of propriety. Each swipe of his velvet muscle against yours, every rake of calluses over swollen flesh dragged you spiraling deeper into an abyss of utter carnal rapture with him as both plunderer and anchor.

White nova bursts exploded in your darkening periphery as Gen dragged his mouth from yours in a smoldering, filthy glide. Both of you were left gasping in harsh tandem, hearts thundering and musk swirling together in a heady, intoxicating swirl.

"Fuck..." He grated out with palpable relish, piercing rubies raking over your ravaged state hungrily. "You like getting devoured like the greedy little slut you are for me, don't you baby? Want nothing more than to get used as my personal cumdump so I can breed you thoroughly full and sloppy..."

A fractured moan punched free of your chest entirely beyond conscious control at his visceral words. Gen chuckled darkly in response, dragging your quivering form even more flush against the thrumming heat of his body with clear intent.

"Since you're being so openly desperate for this cock," he husked against the lush curves of your breasts peeping from your unzipped suit, "why don't you help me get nice and ready to slide right into that drenched little hole of yours, lieutenant? Show me how much you want my cum painting your insides in thick ropes..."

With a feral rumble that stole your breath entirely, Gen seized both your hands and guided them down to the prominent bulge tenting his fatigues shamelessly. Your fingertips danced over the searing brand of his cock, marveling at the sheer unyielding steel packed into those snug confines against your splayed palms.

"Go ahead," he cajoled in a heady rasp. "Grip me properly, just like you've been fantasizing about all those nights alone...show your Captain how good you are at servicing exactly what he needs..."

The last vestiges of your self-restraint burned away into smoldering embers at his commanding tone. Your grip tightened around the hefty swell of his dick, kneading and massaging the engorged length through his pants with unrestrained desire. Gen groaned low and guttural, thrusting up into your ministrations in a pornographic grind.

"Fuuuck yes, sweetheart. Just like that," he grunted as his broad palm clamped over the top of your head to drag you closer for a filthy, slanting kiss. "God, I bet you’re so fucking wet just from playing with my cock. My naughty little slut is going to have such a perfect, sopping cunt for me to sink right into, isn't she?"

His tongue curled along the seam of your lips, urging them apart to allow him full, ravenous plunder. Gen ravished the depths of your mouth with single-minded, devouring intensity, leaving no space for air to circulate around the smoldering sparks crackling between you both.

When he pulled back once more, your vision swam - dazed and unfocused - in his darkening crimson glare. He smirked in blatant satisfaction, licking the traces of you off his lips in a lingering, lewd swipe.

"Mmm...perfect," he murmured in rich approval. "Now why don't you put those pretty lips of yours to better use, hm? It's only fitting that my insubordinate officer should show proper deference to her captain..."

Before you could even summon a shred of wherewithal, Gen had shoved you down onto your knees with an iron grip. The sudden impact reverberated through your bones, only to be immediately eclipsed by the way his engorged cockhead pressed against your lips with blatant, unyielding command.

"C'mon," he growled impatiently, smearing a pearlescent streak of his precum across the seam of your mouth in a blatant, carnal marking. "I know you've been dying to have your captain's cock stuffing your face until you can't even breathe. Don't disappoint me now, lieutenant..."

With a ragged breath, you gave in to his dark demand. Your lips parted on a shuddering exhale, allowing Gen to glide his thick shaft past your puffy lips and straight to the back of your throat in a single, forceful plunge.

"Yesss," he hissed through clenched teeth, fingers clenching in the crown of your head as you began suckling around his girth eagerly. "That's it...just like that. God, I knew that smart mouth of yours would be so good for something other than being a royal pain in my ass..."

The velvety glide of his rigid cock sliding along your tongue had a mewl bubbling up your throat, only for Gen to choke it off entirely. He thrust in a shallow, experimental glide - watching with unbridled avarice as his shaft disappeared completely inside your mouth.

"Mmm...look at that. So fucking filthy," he groaned in obvious appreciation. "How much of me can you fit in there, hm?"

Without further preamble, he rutted forward in a sudden, forceful jerk. Your breath stuttered as the flared crown of his cockhead punched deep down your convulsing throat, choking off any protest. Gen stilled completely at the tight clench of your esophagus, savoring the way your walls milked him with desperation.

"Fuck," he grunted in evident rapture, eyes screwing shut at the overwhelming sensation. "Yeah, that's a good little slut. You want this, don't you? My filthy, insubordinate bitch of a lieutenant is gonna choke herself to death on her captain's cock and love every second of it. Isn't that right, baby?"

Your nails dug into the sculpted muscle of his thighs as if to anchor yourself against the dizzying tide of delirium, whimpering brokenly around his searing intrusion. The sheer filth spilling from his lips coupled with the molten steel stretching your mouth wide had you teetering dangerously close to a shattering precipice you had no hope of holding back.

"Ohhh, God, you really fucking do," he rasped out in a gravelly, carnal groan. "I can feel how much your cunt is weeping just from this, sweetheart. Go ahead, be a good girl and touch yourself for me...show me just how fucking desperate you are to have your Captain's load pumping straight into your womb..."

You shuddered at the lurid command, but were helpless to deny him. One hand snaked its way up your body to tug at the zipper of your combat suit, dragging it down all the way to your navel and allowing the generous swells of your breasts to spill out fully.

"Yessss," Gen hissed out in obvious delight, hips bucking forward into your mouth with a low, guttural rumble. "Touch yourself, lieutenant. Fuck, I want to see those perfect tits bouncing while you finger that soaking pussy."

You mewled brokenly at his dark demand, arching back to shove the suit further down your thighs. With your chest bared to the cool, recycled air, you dragged your trembling fingers down the plane of your abdomen to cup your soaked mound.

Gen's crimson gaze followed the motion with laser focus, pupils blowing so wide that only a thin ring of scarlet remained. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, teeth worrying at the lower one in an open display of his raw, animalistic desire.

"Good girl," he husked as you sank two digits deep into your sopping core, clenching and rolling them into the molten depths. "Fucking hell, look at you. Such a beautiful little cumslut for me, aren't you?"

A garbled wail rattled around his throbbing length as you drove your fingers harder and faster, curling and twisting them to graze along that sweet, electric spot that had pleasure spiraling ever tighter through your belly. Your vision blurred and swam, only to snap back into razor-sharp focus as Gen yanked his shaft from your mouth with a lewd, wet pop.

"Not yet," he snarled in obvious warning. "You come on this cock and only this cock, is that understood? I'm not even close to done with you yet, baby..."

Gen's hands wrapped around your biceps, hauling you upright and crushing you flush against his broad chest. With a rough grunt, he bent down and scooped you up over his shoulder - arm locking around your thighs as he began striding towards the door with single-minded purpose.

"C-Captain Narumi," you stuttered out in protest, struggling weakly against his iron grip. "W-wait, where are we going? You can't just carry me through the damn halls like this!"

A wicked chuckle vibrated through his chest as he paused mid-stride. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the scorching brand of his hand cupping your slickened, puffy mound.

"My quarters are closer," he rumbled directly into your ear, the velvety promise behind his words sending a shiver skittering down your spine. "And if anyone has an issue with me carrying my filthy lieutenant around, well...they can take it up with me and my gun."

Before you could even attempt to summon a protest, his fingers sank into your drenched folds with a lewd, vulgar squelch. You cried out in mingled shock and rapture, writhing against his grip as he began grinding those calloused pads in slow, taunting circles against your swollen clit.

"That's it, baby," Gen crooned with obvious relish, his other arm securing your thighs tighter around his broad shoulders. "You just keep riding my fingers like the good girl you are...I'm gonna have you nice and creamy for me by the time we get there."

True to his word, his pace didn't falter the entire trek to his quarters. Not even when you sobbed and whimpered as each step jostled his fingers deeper into your fluttering heat. Each brush and glide had your senses spiraling higher and higher, chasing the impending peak you'd been denied for so long now.

By the time Gen finally dumped you on his bed, you were a panting, shivering wreck - eyes blown and cheeks flushed in utter abandon. His answering smirk was nothing short of sin incarnate as he slowly began to unzip his anti-kaiju suit, the flexing muscles of his chest rippling with each torturous pull.

"You look so fucking perfect sprawled out for me like that," he growled, letting the garment fall to the floor with a dull thud. "So ready to be stuffed and used, hmm?"

A sharp squeal ripped from your throat as he fell upon you, tearing at the remaining fabric of your combat suit. He stripped it off your quivering frame with an ease borne of ruthless efficiency, leaving you bared to his molten, crimson glare in a heartbeat.

"Look at these," Gen snarled, burying his face between the plush mounds of your breasts. "Fuck, they're perfect. So fucking juicy and soft and all mine to play with however I want..."

He sealed his sinful mouth around the peak of one swollen nipple, sucking and biting hard enough to send a bolt of sizzling lightning shooting straight to your drenched folds. Your fingers knotted in his silky locks, nails scoring his scalp as you arched into his ravenous devouring.

He pulled back to lave a slow, tantalizing stripe over the puffy, reddened tip, only to fix his smoldering scarlet gaze directly on yours. Gen rolled his hips into the cradle of your splayed thighs, prodding his engorged shaft directly against your slick, pulsating heat.

"Do you have any idea how long I've waited to fuck you into oblivion?" he rasped out, punctuating his dark oath with a shallow grind. "Every single day since we met, I've been imagining bending you over every surface and pumping my cum into that greedy little cunt of yours. And now I'm finally going to give us both exactly what we need..."

With a savage snarl, he seized both your wrists and pinned them above your head. His crimson glare never wavered from the way your breasts heaved and bounced in the wake of his rutting, the tip of his cock catching on your drenched slit with each lewd slide.

"Gen," you keened out in a shattered plea. "Please..."

He groaned gutturally, burying his face against the flushed valley between your breasts. Your hips bucked up against him, craving more than just the teasing friction he was allowing.

"What was that, lieutenant?" he purred in a rasp. "You're going to have to be clearer than that."

"For the love of-!" You broke off on a frustrated moan as he continued rocking his cockhead in torturously slow circles. "Fuck, stop playing and fuck me already, you arrogant jackass!"

Gen lifted his head just enough to flash a sinful, smug smirk at your wrecked state. Your heart stuttered wildly in its cage at the clear evidence of his control, coupled with the fact that he was finally about to fulfill the promise blazing in his crimson glare.

"Since you asked so nicely..."

A guttural groan spilled from his parted lips as he thrust his full, throbbing length inside you with a single, brutal shove. You arched beneath him in utter rapture, keening and clawing at his shoulders for purchase.

"That's it," he grated out through clenched teeth, the tendons in his neck standing out in stark relief. "Fuck, I knew that greedy cunt of yours would be tight and hot as hell, but fuck...!"

Each thick inch of his shaft dragged along your pulsating walls as he set a harsh, unforgiving pace - spearing and filling you in every possible way as if claiming the most sacred part of your body as his own. You couldn't do much beyond hanging on and mewling, fingers scrabbling desperately along the flexing muscle of his back as you were utterly consumed by the punishing glide.

"You like this, sweetheart? Being stretched wide open on my fat dick?" Gen snarled into your ear, hips snapping forward to drill the flared crown of his cockhead directly into your cervix. "Because I can tell you fucking love it. That perfect little cunt is dripping everywhere just from having me split you apart, baby..."

The searing coil wound tighter and tighter inside your belly, each pistoning plunge driving you closer to that shattering crescendo. Your breath came in ragged, broken pants, the room seeming to blur and spin around you as the inferno raging between you both only grew brighter and brighter.

Gen shifted, propping himself on one forearm as he hooked his free hand around the bend of one knee and forced it higher. Your eyes flew wide at the new angle, a wail spilling from your lips at the way his cock seemed to swell impossibly more - filling every possible inch of your fluttering depths until there was no room left for anything except him.

"God, that's the spot," he rasped, eyes screwing shut as he redoubled his efforts. "Take every inch of me, just like that...you're almost there, I can feel it."

"Gen, I'm-"

You choked off on a cry as his mouth latched back onto your nipple, tongue swirling and flicking as he suckled hungrily. Every nerve ending blazed with electricity, the molten heat building between your thighs rapidly threatening to burn you alive from within.

"Cum f'me, baby. Wanna feel that perfect pussy gushing all over my cock while I pump you full of my load. C'mon, sweetheart...give it all to me..."

The final thread snapped, sending you careening over the edge in a blinding, white-hot flash. Your spine arched off the mattress, mouth falling open around a silent scream of bliss as you squirted in messy, torrential waves all over his shaft.

"That's it, ohhh, fuuuck," Gen snarled against your breast, teeth scraping the sensitive, puckered tip as he fucked you through the aftershocks. "Such a good little slut, squirting so pretty for her captain like that."

"G-gen, please!" you wailed, the overstimulation nearly driving you mad. "Please, I need-"

He pulled out entirely with a lewd, wet pop, flipping you onto your stomach and hauling you up onto your knees. With an iron grip, he jerked you back against him, lining the blunt head of his cock up with your weeping hole once more to plunge back inside with one harsh shove.

"This what you need, sweetheart?" he hissed in your ear, grinding the rigid planes of his abdomen directly into your ass as his balls slapped your clit with each rut. "Don’t worry, baby. Gonna give it to you. Gonna give you all the cum you can take and then some..."

His hands clamped down around your waist with bruising force, dragging you back to meet every merciless thrust. Gen pounded into you from behind without restraint, the lewd slap of skin on skin echoing throughout his quarters alongside your fractured cries and his low, animalistic grunts.

"Ah-! Fuuuuck," he groaned, burying his face against your nape and wrapping his arms around your midsection possessively. "Mm-yesss, gonna cum, baby. Where- tell me where you want it-!"

"Inside, please, oh God, don't stop-!"

His guttural roar rattled in your ears as his entire body went rigid behind you, the searing heat of his release spurting directly against your cervix and painting your womb in thick, ropy ribbons. You whimpered and squirmed at the sensation, his iron grip still holding you firmly in place until his cock had milked itself dry.

For several moments, neither of you moved or spoke, chests heaving in sync. Gradually, his hold loosened and allowed you to collapse face-first onto the mattress, completely drained and sated in the aftermath. Gen followed you down, covering the line of your spine with the solid plane of his chest as he buried his nose in your tangled hair.

"Baby," he rasped into your ear. "If I'd known just how fucking perfect you were going to be, I would've done this a lot sooner..."

A weak laugh bubbled up from your chest at his husked confession, reaching back blindly to card through his damp locks. He sighed contentedly, shifting to roll the two of you onto your sides and tucking you flush against his front.

"Mmm...you know," he murmured, trailing his fingers up and down the plane of your abdomen lazily, slipping right between your puffy folds to swipe over the sensitive pearl of your clit, "I’m still not quite done with you, sweetheart..."

"Gen, wait-!"

But before you could finish your protest, he was already bucking his hips into you again - this time from behind as his cock slipped into your thoroughly fucked cunt with a sinful, wet squelch.

"No more waiting," he growled into your ear, rolling the pad of his calloused finger around your clit with increasing pressure. "We have years to make up for, after all. And I'm going to use every single second of that time fucking the absolute hell out of this gorgeous little cunt."

[cobrakaisb]

"is that my shirt?"

summary: a collection of the various times you and luke get caught wearing each other’s clothes OR three times you denied wearing luke’s clothes and the one time he completely owned it.

word count: 1.6k

featuring: 3+1, aphrodite!reader, crop top luke & the headcanon that each cabin has cutsey chb themed shirts

one: luke’s gray zip-up

the dining pavilion is always the quietest in the morning. at least it normally is, but you overslept today. somehow you missed all your alarms, the ruckus of all your siblings waking up, and silena and drew’s fight over whether or not the other stole their makeup. so no one really blames you for walking into the pavilion well after the start of breakfast. 

“could you at least look a little more put together?” carmen, your sister who values tidiness in all aspects of her life, asks as you take one of the only open seats at the table. 

you look down at your outfit: high-top converse, denim shorts, a camp half-blood shirt, your camp necklace, and a gray zip-up to combat the unexpected chill of the morning. not too shabby, you thought, especially considering the fact that you even managed to tame your bedhead and put on some basic makeup. 

“i am put together. aren’t i?” you respond, reaching for the mug of hot coffee damien slides your way. 

“you look fine,” he assures, but his eyebrows furrow as he focuses on your sweatshirt. “is that new?” he continues.   

“what this?” you ask, pointing at the material. 

“yeah. i’ve never seen it on you before,” he continues. 

“don’t you know, damien, that it’s luke’s. he’s like always wearing it,” drew butts in. “they’re like a thing now, or whatever,” she continues, waving her hand as if swatting a fly. 

you huff at her annoyed tone, and the fact that you’ve been called out by your younger siblings. in an attempt to defend yourself you say, “it’s not luke’s. it’s mine.”

drew, damien, and carmen all open their mouths to object, but they don’t have the chance too because luke leans over from the end of the hermes table: “i’ve been looking for that sweatshirt everywhere, but you can keep it. it looks better on you anyways.”   

you feel your cheeks heat up, and luke has the audacity to send you a wink before turning back to his breakfast.

two: luke’s blue flannel pajama pants

friday night sleepovers were basically an aphrodite tradition at this point. what started out as a self-care night full of facemasks, manicures, and gossip sessions for the older campers quickly turned into an all-cabin sleepover complete with a movie, pillow fight, and fort. 

you’re sitting between peter and rosie, the ten-year-old twins from fairfield, connecticut. the two of them were polar opposites; rosie was talkative and outgoing, while peter preferred the quiet and keeping to himself. it was surprising to everyone when he sat next to you and watched intently as you painted his sister’s nails. 

rosie was yapping away, telling you all the details of her day. you were humming along, occasionally adding in an “oh yeah” or “really?” when needed, but for the most part, you were focused on not smudging her nails. peter was leaning against your side, fighting sleep as he listened to his sister. 

“i remember these pants,” he interrupted, fingers tracing the blue, white, and black pattern on your thigh. “luke was wearing them when i had that nightmare about fractions,” he finishes softly, a small bluish coating his pale cheeks. 

“was this the time one third was crushing you?” rosie asks, leaning forward to be closer to her brother. 

peter nods timidly and rosie springs into action, mumbling words of comfort. you, on the other hand, are completely rigid. your back is as stiff and as straight as a board as you look straight ahead, trying not to make eye contact with any of the siblings your age seated around you. carmen opens her mouth, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, but you snap your head in her direction. 

“don’t say a word,” you threaten. 

one look of your vicious glare has her miming zipping her lips. 

three: luke’s ac/dc shirt

this is the third time luke’s sifted through the stack of shirts in his dresser. it’s also the third time he’s come up empty handed. he huffs in frustration, running a tired hand down his face in annoyance. between the overflow of campers, keeping connor and travis in line, and now losing his favorite shirt, luke castellan is at his wit’s end. 

“has anyone seen my ac/dc shirt? y’know the one with the tour dates on the back?” he asks, looking around the cramped cabin. 

several people shrug. some of the younger kids start asking what ac/dc even is, and he does not have time to go into that right now. a few people offer to look through their stuff, saying maybe someone mixed up the wash, but the general consensus is that no one has seen the shirt. 

luke groans in annoyance. he’s starting his fourth attempt at finding the shirt when penelope, one of the younger unclaimed campers, tugs on his cargo pants. luke crouches down to her level, placing a comforting hand on her back while prompting her to talk to him. 

“i think i saw someone else wearing it,” she whispers, shyly twirling around the hem of her cotton dress with a butterfly pattern. 

“who?” luke asks, a little too loudly and abruptly. he clears his throat, taking a deep breath, before repeating much calmer, “who was wearing it, penelope?”

“that girl you like,” she answers, gently kicking the toe of his red converse with her bright pink twinkle toes. 

luke smiles softly at her, rubbing her back. “thanks pen. i knew i could count on you,” he answers. 

penelope giggles at his words, “but you didn’t even tell me to look for it!” 

“but you’re so smart you knew i’d need it,” he praises, ruffling her hair good-naturedly. 

once she runs off, luke leaves the cabin. he’s on a mission to find you, but most importantly, he’s on a mission to find his ac/dc shirt. after a series of questions, and some misguided directions, he finds you standing on the shore of the lake, surrounded by a variety of nymphs, demigods, and satyrs. 

you meet his gaze once he calls out to you, and watches as the color leaves your face. 

“how did you even get this?” he asks, taking some of the fabric between his thumb and forefinger once he’s within reach of you. 

you scoff at his words, “this is mine.” 

luke huffs, crossing his arms in annoyance. he watches as your eyes briefly flicker to his biceps before meeting his brown ones. 

“really? and since when do you buy your t-shirts two sizes too big?” he asks, smirking confidently. he’s got you now. 

“um since i wanted this as a beach coverup. it’s not rocket science, luke,” you answer. 

luke licks his lip, annoyance flickering across his eyes. “name five songs then,” he demands. 

your mouth falls open. “why are you such a guy?” you ask, frustrated.

“if you love ac/dc so much that you’d buy one of their shirts, name some songs,” he continues, but his voice has turned teasing. 

he watches as your nostrils flare and you ball your hands into fists at your sides. it’s cute.

“fine!” you agree. “there’s thunderstruck, and highway to hell, and that one about sex.”

“which one about sex?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “there’s multiple.” 

“all of them!” you shout. “there! that’s five.” 

luke rolls his eyes, but still wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. “if you want my clothes, all you have to do is ask,” he whispers into your hairline before placing a soft kiss on your skin. 

one: your pink camp half-blood crop-top

“have you seen luke today?” silena asks, catching up with you as you walk from the strawberry fields towards the archery range. 

“no why?” you ask curiously. 

her smile tells you everything you need to know; it’s wide and luminous, but her pearly white teeth seem to twinkle with the knowledge she’s withholding from you. 

“oh. no reason,” she says, before trying to skip away from you. 

you grab her shoulder, pulling her back towards you. “silena, what did he do?” you ask. 

silena giggles this time. “it’s nothing really, just. gosh, your boyfriend is so handsome, did you know that?”

“yes i did,” you start, “but why are you smiling and giggling like that?” 

she laughs again, “i think you should check the volleyball courts.” 

you hate athletics, but you’ve never sprinted to the volleyball courts so godsdamn fast in your life. when you arrive, you’re not surprised to see the hermes boys and apollo boys playing a beach volleyball match. most of them are shirtless and sweaty (and the entertainment for about twenty other campers) but luke is on the only one with his shirt on. you don’t think much of it, until he jumps for the ball and you get a good look at the color; his shirt is light pink. it’s also very tight around his broad arms and shoulders, hugging the muscles nicely while also showing off his toned abdomen. 

you watch as he turns to high five some of his teammates after scoring a point. his brown eyes meet your intense gaze, and he smiles widely at you. he has the audacity to flex and shout, “like what you see, babe? i figured this color suited me.” 

you roll your eyes at his words, shaking your head side to side as you walk over to him. your fingers trace the collar of your his shirt, gently nudging against the clay beads of his camp half-blood necklace. luke visibly gulps, and you smirk as your gazes connect.

“i think you should keep this,” you whisper, trailing your finger down his chest. “it looks better on you than me,” you finish, stepping away from him.

[pigfacedbitch]

Phobia

idea : your phobia relates to your boyfriend's gifted godly abilities.

word count : 0.8k

type : headcanons

pairing/s involved : Jason Grace / Percy Jackson / Leo Valdez / Frank Zhang / Nico Di Angelo x Reader

warning/s : phobia speaks for itself. personally, it's thalassophobia for me. 😓

here is my masterlist!

Jason Grace | Acrophobia (Fear of Heights)

Due to having the same fear as his sister, Jason is completely aware of the dos and dont's when you're an acrophobic.

If you two are forced in situations where you need to be in high places, he always attempts to distract you with anything he can think of.

He prefers embarrassing stories over jokes. His delivery is too deadass and his 'i'm-trying-hard-here-it's-not-funny' look makes you laugh before the punchline.

Knowing that it can be associated with the fear of falling, Jason will reassure you every time that he's going to catch you.

If you did fall, during some battle for example, he will asks you to close your eyes and hold you tighter before slowly bringing you down.

He really lives up to that Superman nickname so much, the others started calling you Lois Lane.

Percy Jackson | Thalassophobia (Fear of Deep Bodies of Water)

Percy would be bummed out. Being the son of Poseidon, he loves to be in the water.

Everything about him— from his favorite hobbies to his happiest of memories, revolves around it and he wants to share that with you.

He plans on taking you on trips underwater; introduce you to the majestic marine creatures nobody else has seen before, unravel mysteries the sea has to offer, and form a big bubble where you can do whatever you want without being interrupted (ehem👀).

But how can he make all of it possible when your fear is literally all of those?

Percy would want to help you get over it. He wouldn't force you but he will at least try convince you.

If you refuse, he will respect that.

But if you accept his help, he'll try to take it one step at a time. Probably by starting to show you how the sea, no matter terrifying it is, is also beautiful place.

Leo Valdez | Pyrophobia (Fear of Fire)

Initially, Leo will laugh. I mean, who wouldn't?

You're a pyrophobic yet you're dating someone who is actually made out of fire?

After he notices that you're not joking, he will begin to be terrified for you. Expect that Leo will be extra careful when you are with him, especially when he is working on something.

His contraptions deemed too dangerous like explosives, will be kept somewhere far away.

As much as he thinks your presence will make Bunker 9 a lovelier workspace, he will understand if you don't want to go there. The essense of it is from the god of fire himself— I mean you need a blast of fire to enter.

He also will refrain himself from using his fire abilities in a fight, making do with his inventions instead.

While pyrophobia doesn't have specific causes, it may be possible that you had some traumatic experience relating to fire. Leo doesn't want to hurt you or make you feel worse.

Frank Zhang | Zoophobia (Fear of Animals)

Frank is confused. He doesn't know that the fear of animals is a thing and would wonder why you agreed on dating him in the first place.

He will ask you tons of questions; what caused your phobia? Are you afraid of all animals, a few, or just one? What can I do? After your conversation, he's going to search more information.

If you're afraid of one animal only, Frank will forget it ever existed. He will never talk of that animal again even when you're not around.

The others will joke about it. Example, if you're scared of snakes—

"What is a snake, Frank?"

"What's that, Leo? I have no idea, so let's never speak of it again."

In the case that you're afraid of all animals (this is a rare condition), he will not use his abilities and will train harder in combat.

When he really doesn't have a choice but to shapeshift in a fight, you two will separate with your friends' assurance that they got your back.

Frank is a nice guy but if someone made an offensive comment about your phobia or hardcore pranks involving that animal? Expect the wrath and rage of Mars.

Nico Di Angelo | Phasmophobia (Fear of Ghosts)

I'm sorry but Nico will slightly judge you. Really, a ghost? What are you, five?

Like Frank, he will ask you what caused your phobia.

He will feel terrible and comfort you if you have the same experience as Reina and Jason, who's loved ones turned into a mania. If it's because of horror movies, he will awkwardly pet your head.

You may think the subject is dropped but Nico will make sure that no ghost will ever come near you.

Having the infamous title 'Ghost King', he will not hesitate to torment and threaten the spirits who try to approach, scare, or talk to you.

He will take you on dates to McDonalds but he will not bring you to any 'ghost business'.

If you want to get rid of your phobia, Nico will summon ghosts who can entertain you; like singers, dancers, those that can do tricks, and stand up comedians.

He will also show you how easily he can bend any ghost to his will, proving to you that there's nothing to be afraid of.

[flawseer]

On Mudwing Culture

My last deliberation on Seawings and their eccentric insult vocabulary seemed to be well-received, so here is another one of my headcanons:

Mudwings are seriously into food.

I know, pretty revolutionary take when there is only a handful of named Mudwing characters, and two of them love eating so much that it either almost or entirely eclipses their personality.

But Clay and Ochre are not what I am talking about. This isn’t about a love of eating (though many Mudwings admittedly do have that). I’m suggesting that, out of all the tribes from Pyrrhia, Mudwings are at the forefront of food preparation and culinary innovation, to the point where a large part of their culture revolves around it.

The State of Food Preparation on the Continent

Pyrrhia as a conglomerate of different cultures largely sustains its populations through hunting and gathering. The average dragon, when the hunger pangs set in, will make a hasty trip into the nearest forest, cave, or scavenger den and round up some prey animals. In most cases, this prey will go straight from the talons to the mouth, or, if the hunter is a bit more forward-thinking, into the pantry, and then from talons to the mouth.

There are a few variations of this practice; Skywings may give the carcass a quick roast on an open flame before eating it, Sandwings may dry the meat out so the excess moisture does not upset their internal water balance, Rainwings will prefer fruit over meat. Icewings will nearly always consume their prey raw and unseasoned, as their extremely delicate palate is easily overwhelmed by intense flavors that may be released through cooking.

More complex forms of food preparation seem to exist mostly outside the scope of the general populace. The practice of “cooking” appears to be limited to the ranks of aristocracy, with dedicated cooks only found within the court of a queen or in private households of other high-born individuals. It creates a sharp divide between commoners and social elites, between the wealthy and (as Sea Queen Coral once put it so succinctly) the “eel-eating masses”. All exemplified through the differing standards of food.

And yet somehow, standing in stark contrast to everywhere else on the continent, nearly every Mudwing-- from the most low-born runts of the Diamond Spray Delta to the most decorated head advisors in the Queen’s palace --knows how to cook, and will do so regularly.

Why is that, and how did it happen?

Historical Benefits of Cooking

Most things that form the backbone of a culture usually start with some ancient practice that was useful at some point in time and then, as people kept doing it, eventually got absorbed into public awareness and became “the way things are done”.

Mudwings face a unique challenge compared to anyone else, as they are the only tribe whose combat prowess is significantly affected by their environment, specifically climate, weather, and temperature. Sure, you can take any dragon, drop them into an unfavorable climate, and they will generally perform worse than under normal circumstances. But the unique weakness of Mudwings is that they lose their breath weapon when they get too cold. Place an Icewing into a burning room and they will still be able to use their frost breath. Pluck a Sandwing from their dry environment and drop them into the humid, sweltering hell of the jungle, their natural weapons will still function. But make a Mudwing cower between two piles of snow for a while, and their internal fire will go out quickly.

As you might imagine, this is a bit of a liability when you have to defend your territory from Skywings hiding and scheming among the frozen peaks bordering your country.

So the ancient Mudwings had to figure out a solution to their conundrum, and what they came up with was this: They got a large pot and filled it with water, threw in all manner of meats, plants, and herbs, whatever they could find where they were holed up, then boiled it until it was good and filling. The hot food in their bellies helped them stay warm even at high altitudes and allowed them to stand their ground against the northwestern invaders.

Soon it became tradition for troops to share a hotpot the night before battle, and a rich variety of hearty broths and stews developed from there, as these were simple to make from scraps and could be reheated easily. The practice became so popular, the Mudwings kept doing it even during peacetime. Soon, in addition to the hunting of prey animals that was commonplace, Mudwings began to cultivate vegetable gardens to have access to a more stable supply of ingredients. Eventually, their growing understanding of agriculture allowed them to grow rice, which was especially well-suited to the abundance of wetlands found in their territory. Everyone was cooking now.

The Role of Food in Mudwing Society

If you ask several Mudwings which core values represent their tribe best, many would likely put forward some variation of “camaraderie”, “family”, or “loyalty to your sibs”. They are a very social people who form deep bonds with those whom they grew up with, and one of the most direct ways to grow close to someone is to share your meals with them every day. As such, the preparation and consumption of food is a vital part in maintaining cohesion between members of a Mudwing sibling group.

Every one of these groups will have a “Bigwings”, which is understood to be a combination of a leader and caretaker role. The Bigwings is aware of all of their sibs’ culinary preferences and needs and has all of the troop’s recipes memorized. When mealtime approaches, he or she makes the call on what kind of dish will be prepared and delegates roles and tasks to the troop. This is a daily exercise that builds the Bigwings’ authority and communication skills, and reinforces trust and familiarity between all siblings.

Next to the Bigwings is the Gatherer, which historically was a role assigned to one or more troop members who foraged for wild vegetables or hunted more prey if the previous communal hunt did not yield enough. While this is still true today, many Gatherers also maintain a garden or wet patch to source fresh vegetables or grain for meals.

And lastly there is the Communicator, which is a role usually assigned to the most social and charismatic sibling. The Communicator is vital for coordinating battle strategies with other troops, which, while very important, is not really all that relevant for this deliberation. What is relevant however, is the role they fulfill during peacetime, which is to set up joint meals between two or more sibling groups. This practice is critical for maintaining morale, as doing this regularly helps expand the troop’s palette and keep their Bigwings inspired. That way the troop’s collection of recipes stays fresh and innovative instead of turning stale and rigid.

Of course how much each troop values culinary exploits varies between individuals. Some Mudwing groups are outspokenly passionate about cooking and advancing their craft. They might view their work as an expression of art and get very upset or offended if you indicate that thinking about food is unimportant or a waste of time. Some extreme cases may even get angry at you if you waste ingredients or refuse to elevate a dish to its fullest potential by not seasoning it well or doing something else to ruin it. Other groups may be more relaxed and casual about food preparation, and a few might even not think about it much at all.

If a Mudwing invites you to dinner, it is paramount to figure out which of these groups they belong to beforehand, so you may get an understanding of how much of a threat this outing may pose to your health, especially if you are an Icewing or Seawing with a limited palate.

Is there any evidence for this in the books?

To my knowledge, there isn't much. Mostly because there isn't much about Mudwings and their culture in general. Across all the books, only one of them has a Mudwing protagonist, and the vast majority of it is spent in the Sky Kingdom, so his roots don't get a lot of exposure. Then whenever another Mudwing comes into the story, they tend to exit it very quickly after, without being able to share more.

I made this theory for myself largely in response to Mudwing culture being such a big question mark. I initially came up with it when I saw a Mudwing gardener in Escaping Peril and thought "That could be a cool direction for the tribe." The guidebook that released recently gave me some additional pointers with regards to a few of the looser points of this theory.

I'm hoping it is interesting, or at the very least entertaining in some way.

[konigtaktisch]

Simon “Ghost” Riley sat near the far end of the bar, his large frame draped in a black hoodie. His hood was up, hiding his figures and casting a shadow in the dim light to the point where only his eyes were visible.

Sat in front of him was a round glass with a neat pour of whiskey, no garnish, just the whiskey in its purest form. He tipped the glass back, savoring the burn as it slid down his throat, the familiar warmth settling in his chest.

His attention wandered to the rest of the bar. The chatter of patrons blended into a hum, but his mind wasn't really on the noise. He wasn’t here to socialize. He preferred the silence, the solitude.

On another hand he took a glance at his surroundings, to his left, Gaz was leaning in, his voice low and confident as he talked to a girl, throwing a few well-timed smirks her way. To his right, Soap and Price were engaged in a seemingly well conversation the tension from one of this week’s jobs seemed to slowly loosen from their shoulders.

Simons gaze lazily shifted around, scanning the familiar faces he seems to see every time the 141 comes here. And that’s when he spots you. It wasn’t immediate, at first, he only noticed the way you moved- like you didn’t quite belong in a place like this.

You sat towards the opposite end of the bar, a carefully crafted cocktail in front of you, something strong but with a touch of sweetness, maybe a whiskey based old fashion? Simon assumed, though he hadn’t seen you take a sip yet. There was no rush, no sense of urgency in your actions, just an undeniable air of calm around you, like the world had somehow paused just for you.

You shift in your seat and Simon snaps out of the trance you unknowingly put him in, diverting his gaze back to his glass. His finger absently toying with the rim, you were pretty, there was something about your purity, just like the whiskey in front of him, no frills, no pretenses. You weren’t here to impress anyone, nor were you hiding behind a front. You just were. In a way Simon respected, even through the layers of his mask.

Simon lifted his glass, tilting his head back to take another gulp, as he placed his glass back on the bar top he couldn’t help but steal another glance at you, drawn at the way you sipped your drink, the way your lips parted as you spoke to the bartender. His gaze lingered for a few moments longer, just enough for you to glance over his way, your eyes meeting in a breif silent acknowledgment. You looked away first but not before simon’s breath caught in his chest.

Simon tried his best to focus on the conversation being had next to him, but it was no use. His mind kept drifting back to you.

You didn’t seem to be aware of the way his attention shifted towards you again and again, but then, as if on cue, Simon watched you turn, your eyes finding his for a brief instant before you quickly looked down again. But Simon didn’t look away. It was subtle, a quiet exchange but meant something more to Him.

Soap nudged Simon, jolting him out of his thoughts and forcing him to loo k away.

“Oi, Ghost, you look like you’re about to burn a hole in the poor lass over there.”

Simon grunted, his gaze snapping quickly back to his drink “just having a quite one” he muttered

“Maybe she noticed you staring, what’s the harm in a little chat, eh?”

Simon didn’t answer. He couldn’t. There was something about you that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, something that kept pulling his attention back. Simon wasn’t a man who usually got caught up in thoughts like these. Hell, he spent years burying that side of him through combat.

Then without warning you stood. Simons eyes followed you as you pushed in the bar stoll, unsure whether to look away or to continue watching. You were headed to the door, moving with the same grace that had first caught his attention. And just before you dissapred into the night, you turned your head, eyes meeting his once more, a smile playing at the edges of your lips before you shut the bar door behind you.

For the first time in a long while, Simon allowed himself to believe in the possibility of something more than the shadows he usually lived in.