twstedfreak

[twstedfreak]

nerium oleander

pairing: childe/reader

content: sub!childe, dom!reader, unhealthy dynamic!!!, childe is very obsessive and manipulative, mentions of stalking, threats of violence (not towards reader), reader is mean but childe is into it, begging, slapping, cockstepping, unprotected sex, hair pulling, degradation, possessiveness, slight angst, childe has a scent kink, marking/biting, praise kink, elements of petplay (reader calls childe “puppy” & treats him like a dog lol)

a/n: i do not condone the behavior in this fic! please don’t read it if any of the themes may be upsetting for you, and never let a cancer man manipulate you into fucking him 🙏

word count: 12.8k

The hush that fell over Morepesok late into the night was typically one of comfort, a gentle blanket enveloping the village and drifting its citizens off to sleep. Tonight, however, there was a distinct lack of that peaceful lull you’d grown used to on your walks home. No soft veil of darkness, no calming silence that was disturbed only by the familiar rhythm of the sea—rather, an oppressive sense of dread hanging in the air, like when ocean waves receded from the shore moments before bringing about a devastating tsunami.

A thick sheet of clouds covered the sky, blocking out any traces of moonlight and promising fresh snowfall. Nothing unusual for Snezhnaya, all it meant was a few more inches of white powder crunching beneath your boots if you didn’t make it home in time. You pulled your hood securely over your head and, sure enough, it wasn’t long before the first few snowflakes began floating down in a delicate dance, so fragile that it was easy to forget how unforgiving they could be.

As you approached the walkway to your cottage, the source of all your foreboding suddenly became abundantly clear to you in the form of a distant silhouette. The faint light emitting from the streetlamps revealed a figure standing motionless in front of your house’s entrance, one you recognized all too well.

A horrible chill gripped your body, completely unrelated to the frigid winter air swirling all around you. It turned your feet into cinderblocks and your blood to ice. Despite every instinct screaming for you to turn tail and run the opposite direction, your heavy footsteps trudged on, only because you knew that the slightest glimpse of fear you exhibited would immediately be snuffed out and used against you. So, you continued steadily forward, ignoring the way your heart rate picked up with every step you took until the pale light finally illuminated the form that had been waiting for you. That thick, fluffy coat—you could never decide if it made him look absolutely massive, or highlighted how lean he really was underneath—and that bright, ginger head of hair, standing out against his surroundings like blood splattered in the snow.

“Childe,” you muttered. “I told you to stop coming here.”

“I know,” he let out a breathy chuckle, puffs of air fanning out around him in a ghostly fog. His eyes lingered on you for a few seconds before they darted to the ground, feet shuffling from side to side. It was a sight that was probably meant to appear sheepish, but you knew better than that by now. 

If Childe had any shame, he wouldn’t have waited by your house again. He wouldn’t have come back to you time and time again in the countless months you’d been broken up. He wouldn’t have sent you so many gifts and letters that you’d come to dread the arrival of the mail. He wouldn’t have memorized your daily routine and used each day he was back in town to follow you everywhere you went. He wouldn’t have made the view of him on his knees for you so commonplace, breaking down crying with crocodile tears every time you sent him away again. At least, you liked to think of them as crocodile tears. The possibility that they may be real was too troubling to consider.

No, Childe didn’t feel any shame. He wanted you to make him feel it.

Another spell of that hollow silence passed between you two, interrupted only by the sound of your keys jingling as you crossed your arms, an indirect order for him to explain himself.

“I just really missed you,” he whispered at last. 

You should’ve come to expect it by now, but those words never failed to soften your heart just as much as they struck dread into it. Oddly enough, it wasn’t so much that you were afraid of him. You pitied him, and that was what frightened you the most. Knowing that you still had the capacity to care for this man no matter how many reasons he gave you not to.

You steeled yourself, hoping your expression hadn’t already betrayed you. “It hasn’t even been a week.”

“Two weeks and a day,” he frowned, visibly drooping over the implication that you didn’t count every waking second you were apart the same way he did.

“Yeah, well…” You eyed your front door longingly, praying you could wrap this up as quickly as possible and head inside the warm sanctuary of your house. “That’s nothing. We’ve been apart for far longer before.”

That was your first mistake of the night. Childe’s face brightened over the acknowledgement of a “we”—you and him, together again. A single unit, exactly how it should be in his mind. You realized your blunder a split-second after he did, panic rising in your chest when you caught the pure glee lighting up his features. Before you could backtrack, however, he used the opportunity to his full advantage.

“Exactly! Which is why we should make up for all that lost time, right?”

He tilted his head in a way that was so deceptively innocent, it only made you all the more determined to get away from him. Before you could fall for it again, before you could make a far greater mistake. Swallowing hard, you took a step towards the entrance of your house, and like clockwork, he matched you, taking a step backwards so that there was no path ahead for you but him.

“Who knows how long my next assignment will take,” he added wistfully. 

The snowflakes were falling faster now, forming a crown of crystalline flecks in his fiery hair. You resisted the reflex to reach up and brush them away, instead deciding to use the coming blizzard as leverage to get rid of him.

“Childe,” you gritted your teeth. “It’s cold. Go home.”

Whatever hint there was to be taken, he tossed it to the harsh, blowing wind without a second thought. Rather than moving out of your way like any normal human being would, he surged forward, engulfing your body with his. You stumbled backwards from the sheer force of his embrace, only managing to remain upright thanks to his arms wrapping around your torso like a protective belt. More like a cage, really.

“What are you—!”

“Warming you up,” he sang, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Before you could even think to react, he pushed past the shelter of your hood and buried his nose into the crook of your neck, brushing its reddening tip that you’d always found so painfully cute against your skin. He took in a deep, blissful breath, strong fingers clutching the back of your coat, eager to break past the barriers of fabric and get to you. 

Then, his muscles stiffened around your body, just noticeable enough to put you on edge.

“You smell different,” his voice grew eerily low. “Were you with someone else?”

You blamed the shiver that ran up your spine on the sensation of his breath tickling you.

“No, Childe.”

He nuzzled his nose further down your neck, completely shameless as he rubbed his face all over your scarf and burrowed underneath to reach more of your bare skin, taking in your scent over and over like a guard dog on a mission.

“Where were you?” He sounded more distressed now. “Why are you back so late?”

What, too busy to stalk me, today? You bit back what you really wanted to say. Somehow, refusing to address that incessant, ugly habit of his felt safer to you in that moment—because admitting to knowing about it would be the same as admitting to allowing it. Perhaps it was better to play dumb, let him think he was more subtle than he actually was.

Or maybe, subtlety had nothing to do with it. Maybe it made no difference to him whether you knew he was following you or not. He wouldn’t stop, either way.

“That doesn’t concern you,” you shut him down before he could start his usual spiel. Not wanting him to get used to the proximity, you rested your hand on the back of his head, grabbing a fistful of his sweet-scented ginger hair and giving it a harsh tug. He didn’t fight back, but a soft noise rumbled in his throat as you yanked him away. The effect it had on you was even worse than if he’d just resisted.

Childe’s eyes fluttered open as he came back into view. Even in the low light, you recognized the look starting to glaze them over, pupils dilating after just a small taste of physical contact with you that no doubt left him hungry for more. He took in another deep breath, making it no secret that he was lingering on the traces of your scent in his nostrils. 

“Why aren’t you wearing the perfume I got you?” He tilted his head again, and he was pouting. Reminiscent of a hurt child whose mother hadn’t hung his drawing up on the wall for everyone to admire. “The heart-shaped bottle from Ying’er’s shop in Liyue, I thought it was your favorite.”

You forced your eyes away from his puckered bottom lip. He must have caught the way you were staring, because the corner of his mouth twitched a bit, threatening to break into a smile.

“It is my favorite. That's why I save it for special occasions.” You saw no reason to deny that fact. “Anything else?”

He reached for your hand where it was fumbling with your keys in growing agitation, gloved fingers resting over yours. Despite the thick gear covering his hands, you could tell that he was still wearing the ring you’d gifted him over a year ago underneath—you knew the accessory by outline alone. A simple silver band with specks of ruby; his birthstone. The color of love and passion. The color of blood. Who knew where the gem ended and the bloodstains began.

“I miss it,” he murmured. “I miss your scent.”

There it was again, the earnest declaration that snaked its way around your heart and seized it in an iron grip, no matter how badly you wished you could remain indifferent to it.

“If you miss it so bad, you know where to buy the perfume,” you dismissed. Another impatient step towards your door, another step matched seamlessly by him. “Go home, Ajax. I have to be up early tomorrow.”

You’d thought that using his real name might help sway his obsessive mind and make him listen to you, just like it always used to. It was your trump card; soothing all his worries with your doting tone and putting his head into a happy haze, ready to follow any command you may give him. This time, though, it seemed to backfire. Childe’s entire face lit up over the first sign of affection from you, the closest his dead blue eyes ever got to reflecting light.

“I'll stay with you tonight!” he chirped. “I can help you fall asleep, so you’ll be well-rested for tomorrow.”

Only he could make such a harmless offer sound so inexplicably sinister. The worst part was, you knew he meant it, too. There was no underlying meaning to his words if you didn’t want there to be—if his sole use to you was helping you sleep, then he would gladly fulfill it.

And if you wanted to use him for anything else, well, he’d gladly fulfill that, too.

“I don't need help falling asleep.”

Another step forward. The lock to your front door was almost within reach.

“I can tell you a story or sing you some tunes, just the way you like.”

Against your better judgement, you paused. Memories flooded your mind of that sweet, charming voice that had first won you over all those years ago, the same voice he would sing his younger siblings lullabies with. It was uncharacteristically gentle and pure, so entrancing that you never stopped to think of the poison laced within it. An oleander voice. 

Childe sensed your hesitation immediately. A fox on the hunt, scanning the undergrowth for the faintest rustles to lunge at and sink his fangs into. He leaned in closer, his hopeful gaze studying you so intensely that you worried it may actually burn holes into your skin.

“Please?”

“No,” you said at last, cursing the strain in your voice. “You can’t. You need to go, Childe.”

Back to Childe. It was like a knife to his chest. His face darkened again, eyes narrowing with a predatory accuracy.

“Someone’s coming over, right?” he muttered. A barely concealed rage bubbled beneath the surface of his question, like the final moments before a dormant volcano erupted in the most violent of ways. “You’re seeing someone else behind my back, right? That’s why you’re trying to get rid of me.”

“I'm trying to get rid of you because you act like this,” you spat, giving his chest a shove. For all the force you put into it, he barely even stumbled. “No one's coming. And even if they were, it’s none of your fucking business. How many times do I have to tell you that we’re done?”

You’d half-expected him to look hurt— angry, even. To lash out at you for being so heartless, to give you another practiced pout that always made you forget why you felt the need to treat him so cruelly in the first place. But what he said next caught you off guard, taking your words and throwing them right back in your face. 

“Until you mean it.”

Childe lifted his hand slowly, curling his fingers around the collar of his thick jacket to tug it down and reveal something that made your heart drop. A bruised patch on his neck, originally deep red and lined with indents where your teeth had dug into his skin, now faded into a purple-yellow color. Even among the countless battle scars riddling his skin, the mark stood out. It had been over two weeks since you’d given it to him—you couldn’t believe it still hadn’t gone away. But for such a fearsome warrior, Childe’s body had always been oddly delicate, quick to bruise. Especially around his neck, especially in your hands.

Or, the bastard might’ve taken measures to make sure it didn’t fade, to keep your brand on him for as long as physically possible. You wouldn’t put it past him.

The unwelcome reminder of that night made you wince. Of course. Maybe you were just as much to blame for this endless cycle as he was—after all, even the most loyal of dogs would eventually learn to stop returning to the same place over and over if it hadn’t grown accustomed to getting some kind of reward, right? But when Childe had finally returned from Fontaine a few weeks ago after being gone for much longer than either of you had anticipated, battered and bruised like you’d never seen him before, you’d had a moment of weakness. Or perhaps, several moments of weakness. 

Rumors about what had happened to him in the foreign nation had reached your village; the unjust trial, his unexplained disappearance, his long, grueling battle with something horrifying and otherworldly that had left him so weakened he couldn’t make the journey home for months. You’d been worried sick about him, it was foolish to pretend otherwise. So when you found him on your doorstep again two weeks ago, still not fully healed, but smiling that sunbeam of a smile when he saw you, you’d let him fall back into your arms without much resistance. Back where he belonged, as he would put it.

You gave your head a violent shake, physically forcing the memories away. It had been a mistake. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Go home,” you commanded. “Now.”

“My home is here, with you.”

You forced out a scoff. “Give me a fucking break.”

It was obvious Childe knew just as well as you did that he was chipping away at your resolve, little by little. You had to put an end to this before it went any further, spiraled into something out of your control. Disregarding the crestfallen look on his face, you found the willpower to push past him at last and shove your key into the lock of your front door. 

“Can’t you see how much you’re hurting me?” 

His voice was far closer than you’d expected it to be, warm breath fanning over your ears and making goosebumps creep up on your skin. Struggling to focus, you threw out the first response that came to mind.

“You like it when I hurt you.”

“I do.”

You could hear his lips curving into a grin as he spoke. It made your stomach churn with disgust and desire, all at once.

“Goodnight, Childe.”

There was no room for debate in your tone, distant and resolute. Turning the handle of your door, you at last cracked it open, a fleeting sense of relief finding you as the welcoming warmth from inside began to seep out, beckoning you to safety. 

“I guess I’ll stay out here, then,” he said quietly. “To make sure no one disturbs your sleep.”

If that was his last-ditch attempt at gaining some kind of sympathy, then you were confident that you’d won this battle. Stepping into your house with newfound certainty, you didn’t even spare him a glance as you replied.

“Don’t bother. You’ll freeze to death in this snow.”

“Are you worried about me?” he giggled. “That makes me happy. But you should really be more worried about anyone who happens to pass by your house tonight.”

You froze.

“I don’t like hurting innocent people,” he continued on with a sigh. It was far too casual, as if he were discussing something as mundane as swatting a few pesky flies. “But who knows what kind of creeps might be lingering around here? If someone gets too close, I just might mistake them for the bastard who’s trying to steal you away from me.”

There was a soft crunching in the snow as he inched closer and closer to your rigid form until he was pressed fully against your back again, eclipsing you with his shadow. The comfort of your home was taunting you like a sick joke now, a mere step away from the nightmare unfolding behind you. It all clicked in your head. Even if the person Childe had it out for didn’t truly exist, he would make them exist. He would hold the whole world hostage if he had to.

“I really hope you won’t let it get to that,” he finished with a whisper. Low, barely there, but full of promise. 

Your throat went dry, anything you’d planned to say shriveling up along with it. Given how uncomfortably close he was, you were certain he could feel the tension in your body. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear your heartbeat, pounding wildly against your ribcage like that of a cornered prey animal.

Whether it was an empty threat or not, you didn’t want to risk finding out. Every day, Childe challenged what you thought you knew about him, the limits you’d set in your mind for what he was capable of. He loved nothing more than to test himself, after all, and blurring the lines of his morality was no exception to that. The only predictable thing about him was his unpredictability.

He’d already given you glimpses of how far he was willing to go. His returns to Morepesok started becoming apparent to you not when Tonia would send you excited letters in the mail or when he showed up unannounced at your front door, but when the people you had grown close to in his absence inexplicably started to keep a distance from you. You didn’t know what he’d done to them—you weren’t sure if you wanted to know—but the very fact that they were still alive once he was finished with them sent a message in itself. 

“Look what I can get away with when they lived to tell the tale. Imagine how easily I could get away with killing them.”

“Ajax,” your voice cracked on a single syllable, as did the composure that you’d worked so tirelessly to maintain up until now. Any delusions you’d had about being free of him just moments before seemed so laughable, in retrospect. It had been a losing game from the start, it always was.

He rested his chin on your shoulder with a carefree hum. “It is really cold out, huh?” he noted, hand reaching out to rest over yours on the door handle. “Do you think I could come in with you, instead?”

It wasn’t so much a question as it was an offer of mercy.

You nodded.

That was all it took for him to slip past you in a flash, swinging your door wide open and stepping aside to hold it for you. He watched eagerly as you brushed past him and entered the cottage, like a puppy awaiting some kind of approval for remembering his manners so well. You found yourself thinking that if he had a tail, it would surely be wagging by now.

The door shut with a heavy thud, at last freeing you from the unforgiving snowstorm that was swirling to life outside. But you were far more concerned with the storm brewing between you and the man you’d just allowed into your home. He mirrored your actions as you removed your heavy boots and shrugged off your thick winter gear. Rather than hanging his coat on a different hook, he draped it completely on top of yours, no doubt to make sure you smelled nothing but him the next time you wore it. It was so ridiculous, such an undeniably him thing to do, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. He met your annoyance with a self-satisfied grin, almost cheeky enough to remind you of simpler times. A time when you were blissfully unaware of what that smile was capable of. 

The coziness of your home eased your nerves a bit, at least, allowing you to feel more in control as you watched him wander down the hall, head turning curiously from side to side to take in every last detail of his surroundings. It earned a bitter laugh from you. As if he didn’t have every nook and cranny of your house memorized in that sick mind of his. As if he didn’t break in regularly when you were gone to see if anything had changed in his absence. If you’d purchased any new clothes or perfumes, developed a taste for any new dishes he should learn how to cook, or, most importantly, if any evidence of another person being there had been left behind.

The floorboards creaked under your feet as you followed Childe to your room, where you found him fiddling around with the items on your dresser. He inspected each one with a childlike fascination, toying with various trinkets and souvenirs and opening up the caps of your creams and lotions to smell them.

“You never change,” he remarked dreamily, placing a bottle of Inazuman, sakura-scented lotion back where he’d found it with a care he only reserved for you. For such a simple comment, it was full of overflowing adoration that you’d never been able to pinpoint the source of. You wanted to dispute it—to insist that you were no longer the same person you’d been when you and Childe were lovers—but you supposed the fact that he was back in your bedroom was proof enough that he was right.

He must’ve removed his gloves at some point, because his hands were now bare, your ring shining on display as he ran his fingers carefully along every bottle and piece of jewelry decorating your dresser, many of which were gifts from him that you hadn’t been able to discard. A detail that you were certain he took great pride in. The snow in his hair had begun to melt, dripping off his bangs and splattering onto the wooden floor in a rhythm that was partially soothing, and partially akin to a ticking time bomb.

Without thinking much of it, you opened one of your dresser drawers to pull out a hand towel, reaching up to press it against the droplets forming on his hair. His breath hitched as you dabbed at the wet locks, eyes darting to fixate on you, to make sure that you were actually touching him on your own accord and it wasn’t just his imagination.

You regretted the gesture the instant his widened gaze met yours. It was full of an intense, twisted sort of joy, an emotion you’d never once considered could be dangerous before him. What was far more troubling, however, was the very obvious craving that lurked beneath it. Itching for more, he always wanted more.

“You were getting my floor wet,” you tried to explain, yanking your hand away just as you would when veering too close to an open flame. But he grabbed your wrist before you could, not breaking his stare for even a second as he guided you back to his head, tossing the towel aside and nuzzling shamelessly against your palm.

It was frightening, how right it felt to have your fingers tangled in his hair again, brushing through the charmingly messy strands and watching his eyelashes flutter shut in contentment. You fell back into your roles with such ease every single time, a domestic facade beautiful enough to trick you into forgetting about what festered underneath.

Your gentle scratches to his scalp came to a sudden halt when he turned his cheek without warning to press his lips into your palm. The peck was soon followed by another, then another, until he was leaving hungry kisses all over your fingers and down your wrist. Each one sent a jolt through your senses, hauntingly familiar.

“Childe,” you warned.

“You’re so warm.” His thumb pressed against your wrist’s pulse as he mumbled between kisses. “Missed you so much.”

“You have no right to miss me anymore.”

His lips stopped for a moment, body tensing against yours. You tried not to let it get to you, even if the thought of who might suffer the consequences if you angered him made a wave of nausea rise within you.

“Don’t you get it?” he chuckled, but there was a hurt crack to it. “I’m yours. I'm always gonna be yours, no matter what you do.”

“I don’t want you to be mine,” you said coldly.

“You don’t have to want me.” He rested his head against your chest with a happy sigh, burrowing into your softness and tracing patterns into your back with restless fingers. “I still belong to you. Throw me out like a used toy and I'll still be yours to play with. Give me to someone else and I'll still have your name engraved on me.”

“Ajax.”

You cut him off before he could rile himself up with his own delusions any further—or perhaps, before he could pull you into them with him.

Hearing his name uttered so harshly on your tongue was enough to snap him out of it, at least momentarily. The look he gave you would put a kicked puppy to shame, and you could only hope that the unnatural gleam you spotted in his eyes wasn’t the beginnings of tears forming. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to handle it otherwise, not when he was such a convincing crier. A pretty one, too.

“They’ll be dispatching me to Nod-Krai soon.”

Your heart dropped. This time, it was impossible to hide your reaction from him. Confusion, relief, dread—they all burst to life at once, a battle of emotions that you were certain Childe sensed in you with ease. You, on the other hand, couldn’t read his expression. It was good-natured as ever, completely detached from the situation at hand.

“Nod-Krai?” It came out incredulous. You wished you could just write it off as another one of his attempts to get in your head, but it was such a bizarre thing to lie about that you knew it had to be true. “Already? But you just…” you trailed off, mind racing a mile a minute with the implications of the news. Childe had just barely recovered from his extensive injuries in Fontaine, and Nod-Krai was far more unpredictable a place to roam, even for a Fatui Harbinger. Especially for Tartaglia, given his unquenchable thirst for throwing himself into harm’s way at any given opportunity. It was a lawless land, crawling with factions of varying loyalties, unbound by the same conventions as the rest of Sneznhya—or any nation in Teyvat, for that matter.

Childe hummed, and you knew just as well as he did that you’d taken the bait he’d set out for you. Even so, you didn’t care about keeping up the act anymore. His revelation should’ve come as a blessing to you, it should’ve lifted the weight of his suffocating love off of your shoulders and made you feel light again for the first time in months. But you didn’t. All you felt was guilt.

Guilt for treating him this way when all he wanted was your love. Guilt for rejecting every letter, every gift, every desperate attempt to gain just a crumb of your attention, when you knew that any one of them could be his last.

“I’ll be gone in a week, maybe less.” He moved closer to you as he continued, very deliberate in his phrasing, you noticed. Not “leaving”, but “gone”. There was an unspoken air of permanence to it, like he may never return. 

You weren’t sure when he’d managed to grab it without you realizing, but that coveted heart-shaped perfume bottle was now resting in his hand. “Dunno how long this project will take, either. It’s a really big deal, apparently.”

You said nothing.

“So, I just…really needed to see you, y’know? Really need to be with you, right now,” he admitted with a feather-light whisper. “Will you let me?”

His finger rested on the bottle’s nozzle without pressing down on it quite yet, silently asking you for permission to spray the perfume. You just nodded, squeezing your eyes shut as a faint mist wafted over your skin, fragrant and nostalgic. A scent you would never be able to detach from him. Maybe that was why you still called it your favorite.

Childe was back on you in an instant, wrapping his arms around you in a bone-crushing hug and burying his face right back in the crook of your neck like it belonged there, like he wanted to get lost in you and never find his way out. You indulged him, petting the back of his head in an all too familiar motion as he took in a deep, unstable breath, whimpering softly in the back of his throat as the perfume flooded his senses. When he exhaled, it came out shaky, his whole body shuddering along with it and making you realize for the first time that the firmness you felt pressing against your thighs wasn’t just his Vision casing.

It made your insides coil—with dismay, and with something far more shameful. Hot and uncontrollable lust, pooling in your abdomen at an alarming rate. But you were past the point of lying to yourself, of pretending that you hadn’t anticipated this exact outcome from the moment you saw Childe’s silhouette awaiting you in the darkness. As soon as he’d stepped inside your home, you’d made your choice.

This time, when his lips found your neck, you didn’t stop him. His panting was like that of a starved dog, frantically trying to absorb your scent and leave uncoordinated, open-mouthed kisses all over your skin at the same time. His fingers dug deeper into your clothes, pulling you closer to him in fear that you might disappear from his grasp if he didn’t. You shifted your leg so that it pressed directly against the growing ache in his pants, drawing out a whine from him that activated an old urge within you—to make him fall apart.

“You smell so good,” he managed to gasp out between fervent kisses. They grew sloppier and sloppier with every new patch of skin his lips devoured, leaving hot, wet rings of saliva all over your neck that were as dizzying as they were sobering. Kisses that were so distinctly Ajax. 

If all his nipping and licking wasn’t enough to thoroughly remind you that it was him, his nonstop chattering certainly was. “So good, so, s-so good. Need you. Need you so bad.”

You gave his hair a harsh tug as he wandered down the column of your throat to nip at your collarbones, already completely drunk on you. “Is this all it takes to get you worked up?” You dug your knee harshly into his bulge. “You’re pathetic, Ajax.”

As if to prove your point, he let out a sweet moan of relief, mouth falling open against your skin and spilling out a dribble of drool.

“Slobbering all over me like a fucking dog,” you muttered. Using your grip on his hair, you yanked his head back. Though being forced away from your neck earned a tiny mewl of protest from him, he still complied without much resistance, giving you a lopsided grin when you came face to face with him again. You studied him for a moment, running your hand down his burning face and resting it on his flushed cheek, already smeared with his own saliva. Just a few seconds of not having his lips on you, and he started to grow restless again. He leaned forward on impulse, expecting you to kiss him, only for him to yelp in surprise as you shoved his head down and sent him to his knees.

“Act like a mutt, and I’ll treat you like one.”

Childe eyes gleamed. The only time they ever had any life to them was when he was gazing up at you. He gave you an obedient nod, far too eager as he tucked his legs underneath himself, waiting for your next move.

“Gonna collar me?” he asked sweetly, cocking his head to bare his throat. You weren’t sure if it was his intention, but it served as yet another reminder of the fading lovebite you’d left on his skin. 

“Dogs don’t talk.”

He went quiet, a luxury you were certain would last no more than a minute or two.

You could see his hard-on clearly from this angle, the outline of his length was painfully obvious even through the thick material of his pants, visibly twitching with anticipation. Childe swiped tongue over his lips, already beginning to shift a bit in his spot. It was adorable, really, how hopeless he was when it came to staying still. There was nothing in this world that he wouldn’t do for you—he’d made that abundantly clear a long time ago—but his overzealous nature couldn’t be contained no matter how hard he tried.

His soft, impatient whine morphed into a gasp when you brought your foot down to his crotch without warning, pressing your sole against the bulging heat. Childe’s hips bucked up instantly, only to be forced back down with a warning shove from you.

“What’s got you this hard, baby?” you taunted, trailing along the shape of his length. “Thought I’d let you fuck me, just like that?”

The way he throbbed under your foot was answer enough. You could tell it was taking every ounce of his strength not to rut up into your touch again, just to prove to you that he could be disciplined, that even a trigger-happy mad dog who acted on his most depraved wants would still do his very best for you. 

“Please—mmph—I’ll be good,” he promised, voice trembling with effort. “I’ll be so good for you. Your good boy.”

“My good boy?” you echoed. They were the words Childe always yearned to hear the most from you, never failing to send him into a frenzy when they left your lips. But hearing them spat back at him with such disdain made his heart ache just as badly as his cock. “Does a good boy follow me around without permission?” You dug your heel mercilessly into his erection, making him double over with a pitiful choking sound. “Does a good boy break into my house? Take my things? Jerk off to my clothes and leave his filthy stains all over them?”

Childe’s expression didn’t disappoint. Eyes going wide in a rare display of shock, mouth hanging open uselessly—though, whether it was his surprise that had rendered him speechless, or a fresh wave of lust, you couldn’t decide.

“You’re not a good boy,” you sneered. “You’re just a whore.”

He keened, a low, primal sort of sound that made your core clench. His unsteady hands wrapped around your ankle, urging you to shift more of your weight onto his dick until you were fully stepping on it. You could hear how labored his breathing had become, see the rapid rise and fall of his broad chest as he struggled to speak.

“No, n-no,” he protested, nails digging into your leg, begging you to understand him. “I only do it to protect you. Need to keep you safe from all those rotten bastards who want you for themselves. Need to remind them that you’re mine.”

The irony of it all was almost enough to make you burst into a fit of laughter. As if there was anyone in this world you needed to be protected from other than the very man at your feet. You tilted his chin up with one finger, locking your eyes with his wild ones. Then, you drew your hand back and slapped him across the face. The sheer force of it must’ve caught him off guard, because it actually managed to swing his head to the side, sprawling his bangs over his eyes and giving you a clear view of the mark already reddening on his cheek.

“You think that justifies any of it?” you snapped. “You think you get to act like a mutt in heat in the name of protecting me?”

Recovering from the sting of your slap, Childe turned his head back to face you, jaw flexing under your fingers. As he came back into view, something twisted in your gut as you realized that he was smiling. Not only that, his length was practically ready to burst under your foot, pulsing with waves of heat that still managed to seep through despite all his layers of clothing.

“Sorry,” he breathed, thick with lust. “‘M really, really sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you, I swear.”

He rubbed his aching cheek into your palm with a dreamy sigh, as if you hadn’t just struck him with that very hand.

“I’m so sorry. Won’t happen again, I promise. S-so please, take it easy on me, yeah?”

His tone sounded anything but apologetic, in fact, it couldn’t be more obvious that he was delighted with the situation he’d landed himself in. Coupled with the wide, insufferable smirk that had yet to leave his face, you pieced together exactly what he was trying to goad you into doing.

You grabbed hold of his jaw, digging your fingers into his flesh with little care for the whimper that slipped out of him.

“Liar.”

Childe didn’t falter. He batted his eyelashes innocently up at you, then opened his mouth wide to sink his canine teeth into the flesh between your thumb and index finger. His bite lasted for no more than a second, not strong enough to truly hurt you, but enough to make a sharp hiss rise in your throat. You freed your hand from his mouth and swung it back again instantly, coming down on his other cheek twice as hard as before. A loud, smacking sound echoed off your bedroom walls, only rivaled in volume by his sinful groan that followed.

He’d anticipated the second impact, but what neither of you had expected was the way his whole body convulsed as the rush of pain shot through his nerves. At first, when you caught his shoulders shaking, you thought the brat might actually be laughing. Then, with a weak gasp of your name, his hands flew to your foot in a panic, trying to lessen the friction and angle his hips away from your touch.

“A-ah, no, wait,” he grunted suddenly. “Too much, ‘s too much! Gonna—!”

Childe threw his head back with a broken moan, nails sinking into your ankle fiercely enough to leave behind crescent-shaped indents. The tinge of worry you’d felt for going too far soon morphed into understanding when you felt a fresh surge of warmth spreading underneath your foot, thick and moist. Just to be certain, you pressed down on his spasming cock a little harder, pleased to see the overstimulation make him writhe helplessly on the ground.

He panted as his unexpected climax started to ebb, leaving his head ducked low and his face burning with shame—a deliciously unfamiliar emotion, one that only you could ignite in him. Fighting back a smile, you tilted his chin up once more, but he couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye. His cheeks weren’t just flushed from the force of your slaps, anymore. The Eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers was on his knees for you, blushing like a flustered virgin after making a mess in his underwear.

“Poor thing,” you cooed, rolling your heel over his soiled, twitching crotch and eliciting a small mewl from him. “Couldn’t control yourself, hm?”

He nodded miserably, hands sliding up from your ankle to grasp on to your thighs. “I’m sorry,” he hiccuped, and you knew that this time, he truly meant it. “S-so sorry, I tried to hold it in. Just felt…felt so good. I was just so happy you were touching me again.”

“Shh. It’s okay, baby.” You ran your fingers through his hair in faux sympathy. As you brushed his tousled bangs out of his eyes, he finally found it in him to look up at you again. The tenderness of your touch was almost enough to fool him, until it was sharply contrasted by the scorn laced in your words that followed, “I don’t expect much from a dumb little puppy who can only think with his dick.”

He whined in protest. His hands pawed at your thighs in a frenzy, squeezing your flesh and clinging to you with very real distress that you may actually toss him out into the snow for being so pathetic. Childe hated finishing without your permission—or, rather, he hated missing out on the addictive praises you’d shower him with when he was able to hold himself back for you. But what he hated most of all was cumming anywhere that wasn’t inside of you.

“Please, please,” he begged, leaning in to bury his face in your thigh. You raised an eyebrow at him, grabbing a fistful of his hair to pull him away, only for the boy to latch on to you twice as hard. Anything you planned to say was promptly cut short when you suddenly felt his lips puckering against the inside of your thigh, pressing hot kisses to it as a meek apology. “Please,” he repeated, voice rising in pitch with each one. “Lemme make you feel good. I’m sorry, ‘m a good boy, y-your good boy.”

His kisses grew more erratic as he ventured higher and higher up until he came dangerously close to your heat. Your stomach flipped as it became clear what he wanted, fingers grasping at his scalp in a silent order for him to stop. Childe sucked in a deep breath through his nose, tongue darting out to swipe over his bottom lip as he took in your scent with absolutely zero qualms about letting you see how much he was enjoying it. You cursed the way it made fresh wetness seep into your underwear, praying that your arousal wasn’t obvious enough for him to smell.

“Why? Why won’t you let me?” He pressed his nose back into the spot where your thighs met, trying to calm himself with shaky inhales of your essence. “Don’t…don’t get rid of me. You know I can make you feel so good. Please, let me show you.”

It was true, his mouth was good for so much more than just pissing you off to no end. You shushed his rambling with a firm nudge to his torso, easing him backwards with your foot so that he was forced to let go of you and balance himself with his hands. It left him sprawled out on the floor below you, arms and legs spread wide with the embarrassing wet patch in his pants clear as day.

“Easy, baby. I’m not done with you just yet,” you assured him, ghosting your touch over his cock that, despite his orgasm, still hadn't gone fully soft. Childe swallowed audibly, but his panic at least seemed to ebb at the possibility of a second chance to satisfy you.

It was still impossible for you to wrap your head around. Someone of Tartaglia’s sheer physical strength and international influence, someone who not only had the ability to get whatever he wanted in this world, but the ambition to go after it. All that power bursting at his fingertips, and the only thing he wanted was to be under your control. 

You would never understand how the maze of his mind worked, but it would be a lie to say that it didn’t give you an adrenaline rush like no other.

“Undress,” you directed. With a final flick to the leather strap wrapped around his thigh, you turned and left him there, padding towards your bed and settling on the mattress. Childe didn’t take his eyes off of you the entire time he stripped, his movements uncoordinated and urgent as he fumbled with his belt. An enthusiastic puppy barely managing to follow his master’s orders when his favorite treat was dangling just within reach.

You beckoned him towards you with your finger, and he scrambled over in an instant, legs wobbly from kneeling in the same position on your wooden floor for so long. The mattress dipped as he sat next to you—almost completely on top of you. If he could have it his way, you were certain he would’ve meshed his body with yours and never let go. Your eyes scoured over his bare form, illuminated by the low light; it was impossible not to. Every time you saw him again, his shoulders seemed to have gotten a little broader, his muscles flexed with newfound strength, plenty of fresh scars and bruises decorating his skin like badges of honor. New additions to his wounds never escaped your notice, not when you were more intimately familiar with the map of his body than even Childe himself. 

Old habits taking over, you reached out your hand, tentatively brushing along the recently gained injuries littering his skin. A long, rippling one across his toned stomach, several punctures on his chest that almost resembled the sharp teeth of some animal, a thick bump of healing flesh on his shoulder from a particularly deep wound. You traced over all of them with the same care you did when he was still the man you loved. 

Maybe he was right, you never changed.

Childe’s eyes were half-lidded with contentment, never more at peace than when he was under your undivided attention like this. Tender fingers touching him like he was the most precious treasure in the world, keen eyes observing every last detail of his body to lock safely away in your brain. It was his own personal heaven. Your gaze gradually wandered further down, taking in his built chest, the lean muscles of his abdomen, the trail of soft, red hairs forming under his belly button, and finally, his length resting against his thigh. Just as you’d suspected, it was still half-hard, already beginning to twitch under your attentive stare as more and more blood rushed south, reddining its tip. Evidence of his earlier release was still splattered all over his dick and thighs, slick and glistening from his own mess.

With a start, you realized you’d been staring for far too long. You snapped your eyes back up in a flash before he could get the wrong idea, only for embarrassment to wash over you when you saw the sick elation written all over his face.

“You can stare all you want, y’know,” he giggled. “It’s yours.”

You hardened your expression again, leaning back against the headboard of your bed with what you hoped was an air of indifference. Even if his words set every one of your nerve endings ablaze, that was something best kept a secret. He was already manic enough as is.

“Let’s see if it’s worth calling mine.”

Spreading your legs, you took your sweet time removing your layers of clothing, acutely aware of his ravenous eyes fixated on your every move. As you unclasped your bra, his gaze dropped to your breasts with a speed that had your lips twitching in amusement. He was so transparent in moments like these, nothing cunning about him. His hands twitched at his sides, mouth watering with desire, but even so, he remained put, fighting the urge to lunge forward and bury himself in your chest with all his might.

Your fingers paused under the waistband of your underwear, an idea coming to mind.

“Wanna touch, puppy? Take them off for me.”

Childe’s breath hitched. The order had barely left your lips before erratic fingers were tugging at the garment, as careful as he could manage when in a state like this. You could feel the effort it took him to restrain himself, animalistic need bubbling under the surface of his skin as he slid your underwear off, eyeing the soaked fabric longingly for several heartbeats before swallowing hard and placing it to the side.

The look he gave you, earnestly awaiting your praise for not pressing his nose into the underwear like he’d so obviously wanted to, almost broke your facade. But you couldn’t give it to him yet. It was your private way of punishing him, however futile it might seem in comparison to the unstoppable tidal wave of his obsession. Withholding the approval that he depended on so heavily in the hopes that one day, you might be able to wean him off of it entirely. 

Instead, you simply motioned for him to settle in the space between your thighs, ignoring his disappointed sulking. His dick rested against your folds, heavy and sticky with his own seed.

“F-fuck.” His hips jolted forward involuntarily, drawn to your dripping heat with all the natural force of a magnet. “Please, can I put it in? Please?”

He sounded like he may actually break into tears if you denied him any longer. It sparked something within you that was always lying dormant, no matter how tirelessly you’d tried to force it down until it was buried away for good. The need to comfort him, to satiate him just enough so that he wouldn’t spin completely out of your control—or at least, the illusion of control. You reached up to brush his bangs back, relishing in the brief sense of normalcy it brought you when he rested his cheek in the cradle of your palm.

“Come on in, baby.”

Childe fumbled with his cock for a moment, a tiny, frustrated sound forming in his throat before he was able to line its tip up with your entrance. He pushed past the slippery folds bit by bit at first, then, instinct getting the best of him, sank into you all at once with a powerful snap of his hips. You tightened around him instantly, adjusting to that familiar stretch that your body would recognize as his every single time without fail. His length had always fit inside of so well, like two pieces of a puzzle, as he so gleefully loved to remind you when he was gushing lovesick nonsense into your ear.

The moan that slipped out of him as he bottomed out was pure sin. Drawn-out and broken and turning up in pitch at the end, almost like he was in pain. For a moment, you thought he might have actually cum again, just from the sensation of your warmth enveloping him. But his cock was still rock hard as it twitched inside of you. In fact, you could feel it growing bigger the more your walls squeezed around him, taking on every inch of his shape, pressing against every ridge and vein.

“I’m s-still,” he gasped, body slumping forward. “Still sensitive.”

You cupped your palm against the blazing hot skin of his face, tender to the touch where you’d slapped him. You rubbed his cheek delicately for a moment before trailing down to his neck. His pulse raced with adrenaline under your fingers as you wrapped them around his throat, pressing down on its sides to grab his attention.

“You wanted to make me feel good, right?” you frowned. “Now’s your chance. Fuck me like a good boy.”

Childe’s eyes clouded over, the words fogging up his mind like he’d fallen into a trance. You could feel the vibrations of his moan rumbling against your palm as he gave you a shaky, obedient nod, sinking his teeth into his lower lip and forcing himself to pull out despite his hypersensitivity. You tried not to think too hard about how your walls ached at the loss, immediately longing to feel him filling you up again. And like a good boy, he did exactly that.

Slowly, he eased back into you, inch after inch until his cock was almost entirely sheathed in your pillowy heat. You both sighed in unison, an undeniable sense of relief overtaking you that you were sure to reprimand yourself for later. He took a few extra seconds to bask in your wet warmth before pulling back out again, his trembling breaths puffing out against your face as he began to properly rock his hips. Each burst of pleasure he felt was accompanied by a tinge of overstimulation that made his brain go haywire, and after just a few agonizing thrusts, he was reduced to a wreck above you.

“So—fuck!” he choked out, barely able to string a sentence together when your walls sucked his cock back in so seamlessly every time, taking any coherent thoughts along with it. “So good, f-feels so fucking good. I missed you. Missed being inside you s-so much.” His forehead fell against yours, the pace of his strokes gradually picking up until he found a steady flow. You dragged your nails down his throat, encouraging him to keep going in the language he understood best.

“You…ah…feel so perfect around me,” he whimpered, lips brushing against yours, so rife with desperation that you could taste it dripping off of them. “So warm and soft. So…so wet.” He interrupted his rhythm suddenly to pull all the way out of your pussy before slamming himself back inside in one fluid motion. It created an especially obscene smacking sound, emphasizing his words and making his stomach twist with gratification.

The swollen head of his dick dragged against your sweet spot as he did, earning a soft moan from you that you couldn’t suppress. Childe throbbed inside of you, visibly ecstatic over the smallest indication that he was pleasing you right. Eager to draw more sounds out of you, he repeated the action, taking on an uncharacteristically careful pace that had your composure slipping further and further each time he filled you to the brim. 

“O-only I can make you this wet, right?” To anyone else, it might’ve sounded like he was simply stroking his own ego, but you knew better than that. He was genuinely asking, he needed to hear it from you like the oxygen he needed to breathe. “Only I get to—hah—feel you around me like this, fill you up like this. Only me, right?”

You could’ve blamed it on the pleasure muddling your mind and allowing your heart to take over, but that was far more damning an admission of how you truly felt about the mess of a man sinking himself so deep inside you that you’d think he wanted to meld his body to yours. Swallowing down another moan, your hands found the back of his head again and tangled in his damp, fluffy hair.

“You think anyone else is filthy enough to do what you do?” you answered with a breathless question of your own. It wasn’t exactly the doting response he’d hoped for, but it was more than enough to placate him for now. His lips crashed into yours, tiny huffs rising in his throat and spilling into your mouth as he returned to his breakneck speed from earlier. The sudden whiplash in pace might have caught you by surprise if you hadn’t known Childe so well. Slow and steady never lasted long with him. 

His kisses were a whirlwind of teeth nipping at your lips and drool coating your tongue, every bit as intense as his thrusts, like he was trying to suck all the air out of your lungs and selfishly keep that for himself, too. Just like every other part of you.

Even if you didn’t say it, he was right—no one else could make you feel the things you experienced with him. No one else could ever replicate his essence; animalistic, but not purely in a chase for mindless pleasure, he was far too passionate for that. It was a chase for you, a perfect balance of primal and emotional craving that only you could provide him.

Your head was spinning by the time you forced him to break the kiss, drunk on all the moans he’d emptied into your mouth that still managed to be so loud despite your lips muffling them. Childe didn’t miss a beat before diving back into you, pressing sloppy kisses to the corner of your mouth, licking a messy stripe down your jaw, and latching on to your neck. The sensation of his canines pricking your skin made your body jolt in a different kind of way—bringing you back to your senses.

“No,” you warned him. “No biting. Bad boy.”

His hips stuttered, a wrench thrown into his frantic pattern of thrusts as he was denied by you yet again. It was cruel, really, for you to expect him to anchor himself long enough to form a response. He was so far gone, already, only able to peer up at you with wide, pitiful eyes.

“H-huh? But…please,” he resorted to begging right away. “Please, please, please. ‘S not fair. Everything’s faded, there’s no—ngh—!” He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his hips to a stop long enough to gather his words. “All my marks are gone. P-please, need to make new ones. Need everyone to know you’re mine.”

His teeth dragged helplessly over your flesh, threatening to sink right back in at any moment. Your mind raced. Marks were far more tangible than an unwanted memory that you could banish to the depths of your conscience. Marks left evidence of your mistakes, taunting you with your own body each time you caught sight of your reflection. The marks you’d left on Childe were exactly what had landed you in this situation in the first place.

“No, puppy. Do I need to muzzle you?” 

He whined low in his throat, already beginning to grind into you again, pressing his cock against the ridges of your walls in a way that was so dizzying it made rational thought an impossible feat.

“If I don’t…” he panted. “Someone might t-try something with you and I’ll just have to kill them instead. You don’t want that, right? Right?” 

His words made you stiffen all over again, an ice-cold, brutal dose of reality crashing back over you like a crack had formed in your walls and allowed some of the raging blizzard outside to seep through. In your alarm, you squeezed around his dick even tighter than before, making him collapse into you with an angelic sigh that was so wildly detached from what he’d just said, it was almost comical.

“Or…do you?” he mused, drawing playful patterns against your skin with his lips. “Want me to—ah—prove myself to you, yeah? I’ll do it, y’know. I’ll do anything for you.”

You said nothing, simply tilting your jaw back and pushing his head into the crook of your neck to grant him permission. With a grateful hum, Childe parted his lips, latching on to the patch of skin right below your jaw and suckling like his life depended on it. There was no doubt in your mind that he’d deliberately chosen a spot high up so it’d be difficult for you to cover with your clothing. He gradually began rocking his hips into you once more, picking up the delicious buildup of pressure in your stomach exactly where it left off. 

It made you feel a tinge of disgust with yourself—wanting nothing more to be free of this man one second, then shamelessly using his battered body for your indulgence the next. But just like everything else surrounding Tartaglia, there was no single, clear answer to your feelings towards him, there was nothing black and white about it.

You didn’t have time to brood over it for long, as the slew of sensations overtaking your body quickly consumed your thoughts again. The combination of his teeth devouring your neck and his length pumping a delicious friction inside of you was nothing short of addictive. It drew all your focus back to him at once, like he’d sensed that your attention had slipped off of him for a minute and greedily tried to snatch it back.

Not satisfied with just one lovebite, he quickly moved on to the base of your throat to create another. More, more, more, he always wanted more. His canines sank into your skin deep enough to make your back arch, rolling his cockhead against the roof of your walls and dribbling a pool of saliva onto your neck as his mouth fell open in a groan. Every sharp prick of his teeth was accompanied by a soothing lick over the damaged area afterwards, as if to apologize for being unable to control himself. 

“Crazy, crazy, crazy,” he babbled against your shoulder. “You make me s-so fucking crazy.”

“I don’t make you anything.” It was hard to sound as stern as you wanted to when your voice was so full of lust. “You’re like this all by yourself. A dumb puppy that only knows how to fuck.”

A high-pitched whine met your ears at that, hands grasping your hips to pull you impossibly closer to him, plunging his length into the deepest parts of you. Your whole body jolted with pleasure, thighs wrapping around him and ankles locking behind his waist to trap him close to you. Childe finally pulled away from the crook of your neck, utterly lovestruck as he studied the array of marks he’d left all over your neck and shoulders.

“Did that feel good?” As expected, he’d caught on to your reaction immediately, even when you’d thought he was too busy making a meal of your throat to notice. “Am I—hah—making you feel good? Please, t-tell me ‘m doing well for you. Just wanna be a good boy.”

Endless praises for him danced on your tongue, yearning to be set free. The closer your orgasm drew, the harder it became to restrain them.

“Please.” He repeated the motion, and its effects hit you twice as strong this time, twisting the coil in your stomach so tight it was unbearable.

You relented. The ways he’d use himself for your pleasure were frighteningly easy to get hooked on, but that alone had never been the reason you let Childe back in, time and time again. It was the look of pure, unbridled need in his eyes, more irresistible than anything his body could make you feel and more honest than anything that could come out of his mouth. Raw, innocent love. You knew better than to believe most of the lies he fed you, but you would never be able to deny the fact that he loved you.

“It’s good, baby. You fill me up so well.” You appeased him at last, sickeningly sweet, reaching up to pet his head for good measure. “Keep it up, okay?”

His head fell into your chest, all the power of his arm muscles effectively rendered useless as they crumbled under his weight upon hearing a few simple words of approval from you. The sounds he let out eclipsed yours in volume as his hips pistoned inside of you, hellbent on bringing you to your climax. He breathed in your scent as he nestled his face between your breasts, pressing feverish kisses into the soft flesh and sucking fresh marks wherever he could. It came slurred and incoherent at first, but eventually, amidst the creaking of your bed and the smacks of skin, you realized he was saying something. Or rather, repeating something.

“M-mine—ngh. All mine. Mine, mine, mine,” he chanted. The closer you listened, the less they sounded like possessive growls and more like desperate whimpers, pleading for it to be true. For you to agree, to let him know that you craved him just as carnally as he craved you.

His hands slid down from your breasts to grip your thighs where they were wrapped around his waist, pawing needily at them in a thinly-veiled desire to push your legs back and bury his cock as far into your heat as your bodies would allow. However deep he was inside of you, he needed to be deeper, he needed to reach parts of you that no one else but him could ever touch. The only thing stopping his insatiable greed was the remaining few shreds of his sanity, telling him to control himself, to be good for you, to show you that he deserved to be yours. 

You could practically hear the pleas on his tongue without him having to speak a word. 

Not enough. More, more, more. Need you more.

“You’re such a greedy puppy, y’know that?” you clicked your tongue. Using your legs’ hold around his waist, you raised your lower half off the mattress just enough to press fully against his pelvic bone, granting his wish and pushing his dick further inside you. Childe keened your name, his brain short circuiting for a few moments before he remembered to resume his thrusts, slipping his hands under your back to help support you.

“Th-thank you, thank you,” he stammered. “Fuck, can’t get enough. Wanna stay like this forever.”

Coming from him, you knew it wasn’t an exaggeration in the slightest. The new angle was dangerously electrifying with how it allowed him to roll his tip perfectly into your sweet spot every time he sank into you. It wasn’t long before that familiar feeling in your core reached its limit, coiling tighter and tighter until it snapped all at once. You sucked in a sharp breath, thighs squeezing around his hips so fiercely that it became difficult for him to move. Still, completely lost in you, Childe continued grinding diligently, making each wave of your climax all the more intense as his length didn’t falter its strokes once.

His eyes snapped open as he processed your walls clenched wildly around him, darting down to study the spot where he was thrusting into you. You could see the moment it clicked in his head as he noticed the fresh juices dripping from your slit and coating his cock, his entire face lighting up with a giddy grin.

“Did you—hah—cum?” he asked breathlessly. “You came, right? I made you feel good, right?” He lowered his head again, nuzzling his sweaty face against yours in ecstasy.

The aftereffects of your high were still in full swing, a light, floating sensation replacing the complicated web of emotions you’d been working fruitlessly to detangle up until now. Overcome with bliss, you finally stopped trying to fight back the affection banging at the confines of your heart, begging to be set free and reach him.

“Mm. Good boy, Ajax,” you murmured at last, pressing an encouraging kiss to his forehead. “You did so well for me, baby. My good boy.”

The final thread in Childe’s brain snapped. A violent shudder rippled through his whole body, hips bucking forward reflexively as the words he’d been driving himself mad to hear finally graced his ears. 

“O-oh, God,” he choked out, nails clawing pitifully at your back. “Again—ngh—please, say it again.”

All the added slickness from your climax allowed his cock to slide in and out of you even faster than before, and given how manic he was, the force of his thrusts quickly had your sensitive insides burning.

“You’re my good boy, Ajax.” It was a challenge to keep your voice from shaking when he was rutting into you with reckless abandon, no longer able to restrain himself. “My one and only. You make me feel so good.”

He suckled at your collarbone with a sweet, high-pitched whine that completely juxtaposed his intense movements, hands grabbing and squeezing at your flesh erratically, just trying to have as much of his skin in contact with yours as possible. 

“I l-love you. Love you, love you, love you.”

For once, you were grateful for his mindless babbling, because it left no space for you to have to say anything in return. Maybe, in the very back of Childe’s fucked out mind, he was thinking the same thing. If he kept repeating the words over and over himself, he wouldn’t have to face the silence that followed when you didn’t return his declarations of love.

“Love you s’ much—ah! ‘M gonna lose it.” His dick pulsed inside of you, giving you a warning of its own. “Can I, please? Wanna c-cum inside, fill you up. Want you to always be full of me.”

Despite already reaching your own peak, his pleas made your toes curl all over again. It was so tempting to deny him, just to hear him grovel for you a bit more, but your walls were already overstimulated from the nonstop, merciless pace he’d taken on after you’d climaxed; you weren’t sure how much more you could take, either. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, you clenched tightly around him, adding a mind-numbing pressure to his every stroke.

“You can let go, baby,” you encouraged. “Cum for me like a good boy.”

That was all it took for Childe to fall apart. Pushing his cock as deep inside of you as he could, his high crashed over him in an all-consuming tidal wave. You could feel his stomach flexing rapidly against your clit, broken cries and curses falling from his mouth as ripple after ripple of pleasure passed through him. Spurts of his release coated your walls with each one. Even after cumming once already, there was still so much of his seed spilling inside of you, hot and thick enough for you to feel as it filled you up. He never gave you anything less than his all, and this was no exception.

As the peak of his climax began to fade, so did his string of moans, quieting down into weak whimpers until he was left panting above you, shoulders rising and falling in exhaustion. He swallowed down the saliva that had pooled in his mouth, then parted his lips to say something. But all that came out was a giggle; boyish, cute, and utterly infectious. Coupled with how innocent his eyes looked, blown-out wide so that the black eclipsed the blue, you felt yourself melt a little.

Childe at last removed his hands from under your back, still trying to catch his breath as he slumped his body weight on top of you like a blanket. You huffed at the impact, but your arms slipped their way naturally around him nonetheless. He hadn’t pulled a single inch out of you, even after readjusting his position, and as he nestled his head into the pillow of your chest, you could guess why.

“Can we stay like this a bit?” he mumbled, as close to shy as he ever got around you. “Want you to remember my shape inside you. Wanna remember how you feel around me when I’m gone.”

Reminded once again of his upcoming departure, you couldn’t have rejected him even if you’d wanted to. With a murmur of agreement, you reached up to play with his hair, curling your index finger around the unruly blond streak that stuck out in his bangs. 

It was moments like these where the reality of what had just happened should’ve shattered your peace, extinguishing the afterglow with dread and regret—but that was never the case. Seeing him so docile in your arms, drowsy from pushing himself to the limit and clinging to you to stay grounded, only added to your bliss. If you could just contain him like this, keep him secure and satiated so that none of his poison could seep out and harm anyone else, then that was enough for you.

He blinked his eyes open to watch you as you played gently with locks of his dampened hair, a dreamy, lopsided smile plastered to his face. His gaze flickered lower down, admiring the utter chaos he’d unleashed on your body—neck, chest, and shoulders all littered with deep, blossoming lovebites and very clear indents of his teeth. A thought seemed to occur to him, because suddenly he didn’t look quite so pleased with himself.

“You didn’t leave any on me,” he realized with a pout. “Mine are fading too, y’know. I can barely see them anymore.”

He used some of his waning strength to tilt his head back as proof, and you tried not to grimace. It had been a very intentional decision on your part, even if the sight of his bared neck, ripe for the taking, had been tempting enough to make your mouth water as he’d rutted into you. You’d forced yourself to keep your mouth off of him, in the feeble hope that he wouldn’t be able to use it against you the next time you found him sitting at your doorstep.

“I hate it,” he added with a grumble. “I hate it when there’s no trace of you on my body. Doesn’t feel right. You're mine and I'm yours.”

“You have my ring, don’t you?” In an attempt to soothe him before he could get riled up again, you cradled his face with both hands, squeezing his cheeks together in a way that made him look so harmless it was almost cruel. He considered what you’d said for a moment, his thumb coming to rub subconsciously over the silver band with a fond expression. Still, you could tell you hadn’t entirely swayed him.

“Mmm, but I want more. I’m greedy, right?” he imitated your words with a childish lilt. “So, you can just give me new ones tomorrow when we wake up.”

You pressed your lips together. There it was—the beginnings of a crack forming in the illusion, exposing it in all its fragility. “Ajax,” you said lightly. “I have to be up early, remember?”

“Do you?”

He tilted his head, chin still perched on your chest. It was an unassuming gesture, cute even, but it made your skin crawl with unease. Of course. He’d seen through your bluff from the very beginning—he of all people would be acutely aware of what your schedule looked like the next day, after all. It was pointless to even consider lying to him about it. 

Though he’d more or less just announced that he knew you were deceiving him, he didn’t look upset in the slightest. Instead, he shifted his body so that he could lay on his side, pulling you along with him and letting out a soft grunt as his length rolled against your insides in the process.

“Let me sing you to sleep then, like I promised.”

He nestled back into you in a heartbeat, slotting his body against yours as he laid his head back against your chest and began to hum a gentle tune. It was one you recognized from the very first note, one you used to call your favorite. The sound of it made your entire being ache with nostalgia, mourning the past, mourning this current moment. Guided by the honey-sweet melody, you started running your hand up and down his back, eyes fluttering shut as you allowed that oleander voice to lull you to sleep.

[twstedfreak]

please help spread this,Indonesians that are speaking up are actively being silenced.if you didn't know,Indonesians are protesting against their own government but instead of listening they decided to silence us by shutting down TikTok live in Indonesia since people are updating about the protest through there.Now the police are being told to harm the very same people they are supposed to protect. No one is safe. Recently,on 28th of August a 21 year old delivery driver named Affan Kurniawan was struck by a police vehicle not once but TWICE.the police vehicle stopped for a moment and ran him over again,what baffles me the most is that they said it was an "accident".there was also a video where one of the polices in the car was caught saying " Tabrak aja"(just hit them).people said that multiple people were also struck by the Police vehicle but I don't know if its true or not.recently in Jakarta mass shootings are actively happening,there were teenagers that got hit and died some weren't even joining in the protest.the police are also attacking the medical teams and journalists even though there's a rule to never harm or attack them.all of this isnt entirely the polices fault,it's mostly the politicians that ordered them to do it.it was also said that some of the d3ad bodies were even thrown into the lake.

Please pray for us and help spread this.

Like I said,Indonesians are actively being silenced about this situation.they are even planning to cut off the internet and electricity so whenever you try to record what's going on you will hardly be able to see anything.

I will add some hashtags to help spread this.

[twstedfreak]

18+

gojo who, oddly enough, uses the phrase “fuck me” when he’s really fucking you.

who’s already clambering backwards onto the bed, red in the face with a tent in his pants. who beckons you over with a finger and a grin, already shucking his pants off with one hand while the other snakes around you to pull you right into his lap and onto his dick.

who begs you to “fuck me, fuck me right here.” eyes rolling back and face plastered in bliss while you ride him into oblivion. his hands shaking as they wipe over his face, like he genuinely can’t believe this is happening to him.

gojo who, comes to his senses and has to squeeze the base of his dick painfully hard to stop himself from cumming, wincing at the pressure as his body cools down and the blood starts to trickle back to his other head.

he recovers in a few short minutes. laid back against the pillows and mumbling to himself with a hand thrown over his eyes.

“oh my god, oh my god fuck me, please fuck me please please please pl-.”

[twstedfreak]

⠀⠀QINGXIN IN THE MOUNTAIN.⠀⠀⸺ ⠀⠀zhongli.

syn. while the divine war rages on, you find yourself entangled in the company of a wounded god and reservations or not, you don't have the heart to let someone die on your watch.

TW. ⸺ beta read, long oneshot like seriously it's over 14k, mentions of war and past death, seclusion and wounds. this work contains 18+ contents so minors, you know the drill, unprotected sex, half-dragon zhongli, reader has no gendered pronouns but has female parts, 4k words worth of smut guys get ready.

LOG. ⸺ this is another repost of this fic after my old account got deleted on accident. taken from my old blog lol, a buffer as i work on my current wip XD. this work has been marked mature for containing smut. readers below the age of 18 / ageless blogs and antis, do not interact.

“i want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.”

— PABLO NERUDA.

Curiosity , you learned, was a reckless maverick in every right. Your mother told you of its consequences, of the people who wandered too far from the safety of your village and the watchful eye of your deity, and she told you of their death and the disaster they reaped alongside it.

Curiosity was what cost you — and you knew , you knew better than to indulge in its traitorous little tug when you wake, the scent of petrichor in abundance and the chill of a rainstorm’s aftermath prickling your skin. 

“Forget about it.” you tell yourself when you rub the sleep out of your eyes. 

“Forget about it.” you tell the reflection staring up at you, her brows furrowed with a familiar sternness. It scatters when you dip your hands into the basin, the icy water stinging your fingertips.

“Forget about it.” you breathe out as you lean against the doorframe of your small home, staring out at the expanse of green and the fog that had settled a few feet below.

Yet here you were , scaling down a mossy slope, your bare feet damp from the dew it trod over and your hair still messy from your sleep. You could dimly recall something the previous night between the rains, between the crash of thunder and the crackle of lightning. It was a sound too distinct and out of place in a storm, something akin to the beginnings of an earthquake before an unknown force cuts its life short.

Your head swivels to the side. You couldn’t see much past the mist save for what was in front of you and you clamber down with a little more prudence till the ground evens out a bit more and the screen before you dissipates. You could see nothing out of place, save for a few upturned trees and your shoulders slump. It was all for nothing , you realize and a tinier voice dares to whisper a spiteful little ‘dammit’ .

You turn, casting one last glance over the clearing, then make your way back uphill. It was a wasted attempt and as you stew in your own self-berating and disappointment, you almost miss the faint crackle behind you. It was just the wind , you reason. There was little cause for it to be anything else. What could possibly make its way up here ?

When you hear it a second time, you freeze, something cold jolting at your bones.

Well shit .

It doesn’t take too long to find the source, save for trudging through the mud and a few of the murkier parts past the tree line — but you find it by the time the sun shifts the barest fraction to the west..

“ Ah — ” was the most your throat could choke out as shock swallowed you whole, like ice water.

There is a trail of gold on the earth, and it leads up to the slumped form of a man, his robes stained with the same gilted shade and his breath leaving shallow puffs of air where he lay, motionless and seemingly dead.

Well — fucking — shit . You mind shudders, your thoughts screaming and splitting up against your head like some panicked beast. It was chaos at its core, it was the frenzied scrape of control.

You were no fool. The man before you, both massive in frame and presence, was one amongst the hundreds of those touched by divinity — god or not — whose names were uttered and praised amidst this war. There was nothing distinctly human about him; not his clothes, not the horns that curled atop his skull and the brown scales smattered across, not the ichor he bled out — nothing .

For a moment, or maybe more, you stare down at him, long and hard as you try to wrangle your rationality back and think of what move to make. You could not afford the trouble that comes with aiding a foreign being and the land you settled on could house any force hostile to the man at your feet. A shaky breath escapes, then another. You were trembling now, just a little, daring to take a step back, then one more.

Kill him , another voice snaps. It was twisted and its words breathed acrid revulsion. Get it over with, he’s not worth the pain.

You consider it, for the tiniest bit of a second till he lets out a shudder and shifts with tense shoulders, his grunts labored and streaked with muted agony — those darker thoughts quickly flatline to scattered anxiety and the hand that brushes the blade at your hip falls limp. Not now, perhaps . You could just leave him here, let nature run its course.

You could do that , you decide with a semblance of confidence.

Of course you could.

Of course .

Your shuffling comes to a stop and you're backtracking immediately, your pace holding an urgent bounce with every step. There is a feverish jerk to your movements when you settle beside him, and a storm of emotions raging in your chest. It does little to ease you — little does, these days — and you press up on his shoulders in an attempt to roll him over onto his back.

It happens so swiftly, a blur of gold and black that shadowed your periphery before you were slammed down with eyes like uncut cor lapis glaring down at you. You scramble, clawing at your neck, at the digits pressed up against your windpipe and your pulse and it beats faster and faster and faster . One tiny move and you’d be left for dead.

( A part of you is stunned — for even wounded and weakened from some unknown, unspoken battle, the quavering power within him seemed to beat strong. You feel a mix of thrilled awe and terror turn in your stomach. )

His gaze hardly falters, roving at your form before his grasp on you releases and he mutters something akin to an apology, collapsing again. His eyes were still open, watching you beneath a haze of pain and deliriousness, stiffening now and then when you so much as move. The strength he showed, no matter how small it was, is gone and there is the slightest hint of vulnerability beneath the stripped layers of stone.

Your instincts scream at you to run yet you stay rooted in place, coming to sit up and hover by his side. In the end, your own concern and pity won out. “Y-you’re wounded.” you try to reason, only to be met with a grunt. You find yourself wincing as you stutter over your words, your voice hoarse from months of disuse. “Please, l-let me help. My h-home is c-close b-by.” 

Feeble , you chide yourself amidst it all, old, old regrets tearing at your mind and clawing at your thoughts. You shut your eyes, letting your muscles relax and you try again.

Tugging at his arm serves to be fruitless. He was too large for you to carry over and your first attempt gives that away well enough. The gold in his veins seems to dim with the passage of time and you fear his life slipping away under your watch. “I n-need you to w-walk…” your plea is almost caught in your throat and you have to wrench it out to let it be heard. He tilts his head your way. “You’re too h-heavy…” you try to reason.

Another grunt sounds out and thankfully , his form rises. You’re quick to move to his side, supporting him against your shoulder, the thrum of elemental energy strong beneath your hold. He practically oozed it and it feels like what the storm felt like — the trembling earth itself.

You don’t say much after that, leading him back to your home, your hand and clothes staining a bright gold.

Perhaps your house would have been a little cleaner had you known you’d have a guest over. When you lead the the being inside, you scan the small space with a sense of perplexity, hoping he wouldn’t scrutinize the sight too much ( your mother always seemed to emphasize the need for a well kept living space — should she see you now, you know she’d be rolling in her grave with indignity ).

He stumbles a little, letting out a guttural snarl and you flinch, almost dropping his weight onto the floor when you feel claws close down on your arm and press against your scarred skin. You hiss softly and he gives a little jolt, his hold on you releasing, leaving little but the crumpled sleeve of your tunic behind. 

“How much — ” he cannot finish the sentence, his nose wrinkling up and he almost looks a little feral underneath the light. 

“Just a l-little more.” you assure, cracking the barest of smiles as you cross the room and lay him down on your bedroll. He was tall enough as is, and you think his horns would scrape up against the ceiling of this house should he stand upright. 

The bedroll itself was pathetically small beneath him, but you couldn’t throw a fuss about it, working away at his clothes in relative silence, steeling yourself up in preparation for the worst. 

The clasps and the belts and sashes are undone by nimble fingers and as the layers peel away, you come to a stop. It was not a pretty sight, his wounds, the clawed lacerations criss crossing across his torso like patchwork. You doubt you could salvage much and you almost give up at the spot, pulling away the rest of his clothing. The worst one splits across his chest and you look to the side, battling out the vertigo and the nausea threatening to creep up. 

He’d have been dead at this point, had the blood in his veins be that of a mortal’s and not something inhuman. In some convoluted sense, he was lucky.

Stop cowering , you hiss internally. Pull yourself together .

The sound of rustling clothes is all you could hear after, followed by the clinking of metal and the sharp tang of alcohol. Your movements are almost robotic — and you had done this plenty of times before, cleaning the wounds of children and soldiers. But this wasn’t home and you doubt any soothing words would stoke at the feelings of a god. 

When you return to his side, his forehead is damp with sweat.

“ Shit — ”

His skin was warm . Could an immortal being fall ill? Was that even a possibility?

“I will be fine.” he rasps out and you jump, snapping his way as you hold the clothes closer to your chest in defense. He turns his head, peering at you and you think you see a stubborn glimmer beneath the usual masked strain and impassivity. “My wounds will heal in time…I…only seek shelter till they do…”

“Absolutely n-not.” you reply, splaying your palm out on his stomach to keep him still as you clean away the dirt and dried blood. The shallower wounds were slowly closing up again. “You’re in no state to argue right now.”

His mouth twitches and there is a momentary flash of teeth. You try not to let it frazzle you as much despite his initial protest, your movements slowing to a more delicate pace as you bathe the worst of his lesions till you were satisfied with the lack of dirt caking his body. “It seems choice no longer holds to be a luxury.” he utters under his breath.

“No.” you agree. “It does not.”

He falls silent, a petulant turn on his lips. “Are you a healer?” he asks. You bow down, unwinding the linen wraps you had stored away.

“My mother was.” you finally admit, your posture straightening. “I learned what I could from her to aid the people in my village. I never studied medicine formally, however…” you trail off. Talking seems to grow a little easier the more you speak. The hoarseness was slowly giving way and your stuttering grew less frequent.

“And I take it you shall try to help me as you do with any other human?” there was a sardonic sort of amusement in his tone that has you bristling. “Your medicines and methods will not work on an Adeptus. Put your tools away, you only waste your time.

“Adeptus…so you hail from the settlement south of Mt. Tianheng?”

“You’re ignoring my words,” he accuses. You bat your lashes at him innocently.

“Small talk.” you shrug. “You can tell me everything you want after I’m done tending to you.” you meet his gaze, tumultuous gold melded with an orange-red. He narrows his eyes, his unfocused vision scanning you, then the house, then at the bandages you held before he leans his head back with a defeated sigh.

By the time you conclude your task, he has fallen unconscious, his breathing deep and his heartbeat unnaturally slow for a human. You look down at your ruined clothing, at the stains at the hem of your tunic and at the sleeves and you hope you can salvage what you can from this, moving on to change out of them and fish out a cleaner pair of clothes. 

The smell of petrichor still persists through the day, the sky brewing with the makings of a new storm. Perhaps you had lost track of time and the monsoons were sitting in sooner than expected and you move on to salvage whatever you’d left outside to dry and board your windows up for the incoming onslaught.

The man wakes when night falls, form set aglow against the dim lamp light. 

“Let’s change your bandages.” you offer. He doesn’t protest this time, painfully sitting himself up with gritted teeth as you get back to work. His skin still radiates that uncomfortable temperature as you press up against it. You might need to get a wet rag ready lest he overheats

He speaks after the silence persists. “You shouldn’t see me like this.” it comes out as a whisper so soft, you almost miss it. His face however holds a distant look, with a hint of disappointment lurking within and you tug at the linen a little harder. You’ve heard that before, from the lips of men and women who had too much to hold and little weakness to show. You wonder what it would entail for a warrior, or a being whose years spanned farther than yours, to sink as low before a stranger.

It must be hard.

“We all get hurt sometimes.” you smile, hoping to lighten the air with a bit of humor ( it was getting too heavy, the air in the room ). “I’ve lost count of the number of times I've hit my head…and you think I'd be a little more cautious given my studies…”

A poor joke stays a poor joke no matter the delivery ( and yours was weak to begin with ). He does not say or do much, save for a slight twitch in his jaw and an unamused tilt in his head. You shrink back, skittishly throwing his used bandages aside in favor of new ones with a hasty “Nevermind.” on your tongue. 

“Do you truely not know who I am?” he asks, his touch skimming the sheets absently. You shake your head, confusion and that damned curiosity slowly lurking and clawing its way to the light. You want to stamp the ugly feeling down and out of sight. You try to. It does not disappear. He continues, “What of the civilization south of Tianheng?”

A shrug was the most you could manage. You guess that was where he hails from. “I know it’s the domain of a geo god, and that beings touched by longevity, ally beside him. “My old home is far, however, and our god hid us away from the world…my knowledge on this is sparse.” 

You’re almost ashamed to admit it, to acknowledge the bubble you had grown within, accepting the suffering of the men and women who ventured out and returned with broken bodies you and your mother had to fix. You weren’t sure what sort of terrible dichotomy it was, to live in ignorance amidst blatant horror and blood, and you don’t wish to return to it.

He seems to take this in, his eyes training up at the ceiling, then upon you with a lidded stare. “Who was your god?”

The icy set to your jaw was a hint he picks up on and he does not further the topic.

“...I am from there…from Liyue.” he says instead, in recollection of your previous question. The settlement was a distance from here, a few days worth of journeying by cart and hardly worth the risk of the travel with the demons that lurk and the gods that warred.

“What’s your name?” you ask.

His lips curl again, but it’s less of a grimace and more of a smile, his fangs tucked away to show a visage less feral, less dangerous. You find yourself relaxing a bit more unconsciously, seemingly charmed by this simple action ( and the thought almost scares you ). “What is your name, mortal?”

Ah, he wasn’t going to make this easy. You’re tempted to tug on his bandages a little harder if only to spite him.

You don’t reply till you are done with your chore and you lean back, massaging your stiff fingers. Your name slips out of your lips then, the action feeling natural in defiance of the years spent hardly having a friendly face within your home, save the occasional traveler. The adeptus seems satisfied. “You may call me Zhongli.” he replies, his voice softer, raspier.

“Zhongli.” you repeat. Zhongli .

There is a rustle of fabric and his fingertips brush against yours, the touch nearly having your arm lurch back in muted shock. He seems unphased but you — you watch a soft light shimmer through the dimness of your walls. When it fades, a single visage of gold stares back.

“It’s your reward. For aiding me.” there is a medley of pride and contentment and you liken it to that of a child offering a messily put together gift. Gold is coveted by most, but has little use here, and you have little use for it. But the gift is still cupped within your hands and you hold it as if it is something precious.

( Oh, your heart trembled just a bit and you feel a lump grow in your throat, bigger and bigger till you dip your head down out of his line of sight. )

His eyes bear down on you harder, set aglow and unyielding.

You smile to hide your trembling frame, thoughts revolting within your mind like the beat of war drums with a mix of unease and appreciation. Yet, who were you to question Zhongli’s secrets?

Maybe hypocrisy runs deeper in your blood than you initially assumed.

Mist dances at your fingertips.

It weaves and spreads and obscures the light and the woods around you and you run through blindly as the skin beneath your feet tears and the chill of the night clings to your skin and leaves behind dew and sweat.

You could see nothing; nothing save the pale glow of the moon above you as it tries to break through the barrier and light your way. It cannot, for Balam’s magic conjures obscurity, and obscurity was worshiped.

But you were human and you were curious and the voice that called your name was so familiar and warm and you wanted to weep and run towards it. The mist will not stop your folly and you will keep running to appease that growing thirst. In the end it will cost you.

The sound of your footsteps cease. The mist thins out and at the end of the veil, you poke your head out for the first time to witness the world outside. A set of teeth, white and sharp greet you. Then another and another, till the darkness itself glows as it does beneath the moonlight.

You hear her voice. It comes from the open maw.

The demons spot you and you run again, feeling their jaws clamp down and tear through muscle and bone and you scream and scream and scream at the white hot agony and the very feeling of your nerves set aflame before they numb.

Your curiosity cost you.

You wake to your fingers clawing at your shoulder with labored gasps and Zhongli panting, his fingers gripping at the sheets of the bedroll and his brow furrowed. You blink away the sleep in your eyes and tug the blanket off of your shoulders, shakily making your way to his side. His skin was hot again and panic lights in your chest, like the incoming winter.

“Fuck — it’s gotten worse.” you mumble a few more expletives as you stumble out to collect some more water and the few mistflower corollas you had stored away within your cabinets, hoping the elemental energy in them hadn’t dissipated completely. Setting the bucket down by his bedside with the corollas nestled within, you hiss at the cold pricking your palms and the frostbite coming to form.

Never mind that! The fucking adeptus is going to melt .

Oh my, thank you for pointing out the obvious! 

The cloth bath was set to a near feverish pace as you feel him twitch and convulse through the chills wracking his body. “Hot — ” he groans.

“It’s the fever.” you mutter, tugging his pants down, your eyes unconsciously trailing down the slope of his waist and dip of pelvis, then avert your eyes before you could see any more, face flushed whilst a cloth was thrown onto his hips to spare him some decency. “You need to cool down…please, stay still.”

His hand comes to grip your arm and the dormant strength within it, one etched into his very being, was frightening. The adeptus’ sights were set upon you, the fever-addled state of his blowing his pupils out till only a thin ring of gold remains, shining through the light of the oil lamp, brighter and brighter. You pull away and rest your free hand on his with a soothing squeeze. 

“You will be okay.” you assure. “It will come to pass soon enough. Let me take care of you for now.” You coax him to stay still as you continue the cloth bath, wiping away at his clammy skin while fatigue continues to weigh down on your shoulders and tug at your eyes. “I know you’re hiding something…and if you…if you’re one of the gods, then you must live. You’ll have people waiting for you…they need you, at a time like this.”

He lets out a weak exhale, shakily sitting himself up with sudden urgency. “ Liyue… ” he whispers, gait faltering and you steady him as he leans into you, resting his forehead against your shoulder. You struggle to push him back down atop the bedroll, his breaths growing pained with the passing seconds. 

“Liyue.” you nod and repeat. “You need to go back soon, don’t you? You’ll have to heal first, and for that, you must rest.” The cloth is pressed against his temple now, wiping away sweat all while the smell of petrichor grows stronger. The searing temperature hasn’t subsided and hopelessness stirs inside, an ugly feeling, a familiar feeling ( it was worse than your curiosity — it always was ).

Zhongli leans into your touch, his fingers tangling against yours. “ Stay… ” he whispers. You cease your movement as his body shifts and presses against your lap. “Stay….” he repeats.

“I…I’ll stay.” you slump in defeat, resting his head on your lap. Lightning flashes outside your window and the walls seem to shake as the rain comes pelting down. You continue the bath, listening to a leaky spot in your roof and the incessant downpour rattling against the tiles. Zhongli seems to still, his breaths still weighed down by that terrible heaviness.

The rain continues. His fever grows worse.

Then the pattering slows down, and the flush on his skin comes to cool. By the time the rains stop, his fever breaks and you lean against the wall of your home, shutting your eyes as you nearly weep, your worries allayed.

Morax was the first to wake in the early hours of the morning, the scent of petrichor pervading his senses followed by the faint lull of jasmine. Then comes the warmth and the softness, one his claws unconsciously dig into with a groan shuddering out of his chest.

It was you , slumped against the wall, lost in your own dreams and too tired to notice and the sight makes him swell with a conflicting mess of emotion. Then comes the pain, the aftermath of his fever coming to tear at him, at his limbs and his tendons till he ceases his stubborn movement and lets his body fall slack.

He does not understand your intent, but the faint memory of that familiar care against a muddled haze stills his tongue and his suspicion. Your muffled words, your hand in his, everything, blurred away yet so clear.

Humans were strange, so fragile, so determined…

“Fool…” he murmurs. The last of his strength is used to draw the blanket over your shoulders. “But thank you, nonetheless.” Sleep calls him again, and Morax shuts his eyes.

The jasmine lingers, stronger than most. He lets it swallow him whole.

You come to realize how much you hated it, the loneliness.

Your home was far removed from civilization, settled between regions  and away from main travel ways that weren’t blocked or destroyed. The quiet of your house was nothing like the bustle of the town you hailed from and the chaos that accompanies the stalls in the early mornings. The most noise that encloses your small plot of land were the local wildlife, the creaks and groans of wood born against strong winds and the weight of snow and the distant battles fought over the horizon.

During arbitrary moments of your routine, you question why Zhongli landed here of all places, in the midst of nowhere. You wonder if this is some grand scheme or punishment for your past mistakes and when you feel your curiosity dare to skitter forth and poke more holes into your blind acceptance, you drive it away with an angry hiss.

He is not an unwelcome guest, even if he holds a sense of urgency at times and a well kept secret whose nature you suspect . It’s almost comforting, no matter how contrived it seems, listening to him speak of an obscure plant or hearing his heavy footfalls a few days after his arrival. 

How desperate are you? The bitter pride in your heart speaks up, and it’s seedy and unhappy as you straighten out the drying sheets over the heated slab. Where is your self preservation? Your brain cells? You’re smarter than this you fool —

“Is something wrong?”

Zhongli’s voice snaps you out of your reverie and you start, nearly dropping your laundry on the grass.

“Nothing!” and it is a weak save on your part as you straighten the worn down basket to move to an empty patch of stone, ducking under to check the state of the flaming flowers underneath. His hands come to rest on the surface and he lets out a soft exhale, his eyes slipping shut in a seeming moment of peace. “You should be resting.” you remind him.

“I believe I'm past the need for excessive bedrest.” he intones with an amused lilt. “Do you need help? It is partly my fault you have far more work to sort through.” He wasn’t lying. What little linen you had was used up to change the sheets on your bedroll before his fever broke. You had little clue how illness amongst higher beings were treated, but simply washing the contaminated cloth was the best option you had on your for now.

Ah, sometimes you regret not moving closer to a town.

Your reply was short, when you notice the silence being drawn out for a little too long. “That does not mean you should strain yourself. The less of a load you place on yourself, the faster you will heal. I’m sure you are needed back at your colony. The war is far from over.”

The comment seems to tug at his emotions, a stern moroseness settling on his face. “That is true…but I trust my fellow adepti to hold the lines in my absence.” you bend over to collect another sheet from the basket, the hair at the back of your neck prickling when he moves behind you. “Even so, I should hasten my return.”

“Then — ” The sheet is snatched from your hands and you watch Zhongli step beside an unused slab to lay it across the surface, a mischievous smile touching his lips. “Oi!” you snap, reaching out to grab it.

“However,” he continues, ignoring your protest with a look of innocent serenity. You want to squawk, to stamp your foot down childishly and you almost do, your movements stilled by you clenching your fist to curb it. “I’ve fought battles with wounds far worse and won. Menial chores are hardly a labor and if it means aiding you then I shall take it.”

You let out a groan in defeat and push the basket between the two of you. Zhongli was preening in his small victory, setting the clothes out to dry with relative ease. “Guests shouldn’t partake in chores like these.” you repeat the line your mother had uttered so many times, one amongst many of her favorite maxims. 

He watches you from his spot behind the stone slab, a contemplative haze clouding his hues. “I simply return the favor. It is the nature of a contract, to balance out what is given with due compensation.” 

He isn’t going to let up, is he?

“Fine, fine…you can help me collect a few mist flowers later.” you concede.

“What do you need them for?” he asks, collecting your laundry basket as you kneel upon the grass, blowing some air into a patch. One of the flowers is set alight and you sigh, letting them burn awhile as you feel your fingers retain a little more warmth in them. 

���Preservation…I use them to make my herbs and food last a little longer…it’s not easy, coming across certain ingredients for a decent meal…” You let out a dry chuckle at that, which melts away into a mildly sheepish one. Even if you bear a slight annoyance to your choice of settlement, and even with the debilitating isolation that came with it — it was still home and it was still safer than most.

Zhongli takes this in, a hand resting against his chin. “I see…cooking is not a part of my skill set…unfortunately. But a friend of mine intends on relaying an old recipe of his should the war end soon. Perhaps I could pass it on to you, if you don’t mind it.”

It was an oddly sweet gesture coming from him and you hum, a genuine smile spreading across your face as you consider it. That also meant opening a tiny window of opportunity; a chance that you may see Zhongli again. The thought stirs a clash of emotion, of fear and of excitement and dare you say it, hope and it feels warm and cold and all sorts of things at once. “I’d like that…granted you don’t accidentally poison me.” 

He feigns annoyance as his head tilts to the side, quietly regarding you. “You overestimate my inadequacy. The last time I did partake in the culinary arts, the worst outcome was an offhand crystallize reaction and a burnt stove.” he pauses. “Besides, my skill in brewing tea is decent.”

Oh Gods —

“I’m just being cautious.” you laugh a little louder at that, holding up your hands in defense. “Dear Lords though…I hope that friend of yours is prepared then. You might turn out to be a genius in cuisine or a hopeless case.”

“Then I hope for the former.”

You grin, hanging up the last of your clothes. “If you turn out decent…then I wouldn’t mind sharing some of the recipes passed down to me. I couldn’t indulge myself in them as much, but i hope you may come to like them.”

Something in Zhongli’s eyes softens and he nods. “And I would like that in turn…” he utters slowly, watching you clear away any dry branches and grass close by. His fingers absently brush over his torso, where the bandages stay wrapped around him. You catch the subtle purse of his lips and the twinge in his jaw. “Do not be concerned…” he snaps up to meet your worried face. “I am fine.”

“...Right.” you knew it wasn’t wholly a lie. Zhongli proved to be a quick healer, perhaps a trait passed down by his inhuman lineage. But these displays of vulnerability only played into the damning knowledge you knew before; of the hidden fragility the gods held. “Come on…I think it’s time we get those bandages changed.”

Zhongli smiles but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Another secret , you think sadly, taking his hand as you lead him inside, taking in the momentary warmth he held even if his skin didn’t quite feel like skin or that they glowed a bit too bright between the cracks of your fingers.

You don’t ask him to collect the mist flower corollas again, staying at home with him with some tea set at the table for him to sip on while you inspect his lacerations. There was some idle chatter over dinner and Zhongli spoke a little more about his home.

“You’re going to leave tonight, aren’t you?” you ask suddenly, your voice soft. His words die out and you try to still the sharp edged pain in your chest. It refuses to fade and you accept the growing weight with an unwilling gait.

“Yes.” he whispers, setting his cup down and he looks ashamed.

“Then go.” you mumble. He opens his mouth again but you hold up a hand. “I…I know your name is not really Zhongli…it’s not is it?” His silence was damning and you finally piece it together, the knowledge you learned from your village and from your travels, no matter how meager, painting a slow picture in broad strokes.

The stories depict Morax to be more of a beast and less of a man. You would have glossed over it as well,expecting a dragon instead of the visage of a handsome stranger.

“I take it you’ve come to a conclusion.” he muses, looking a little apologetic, a little ashamed. “I never intended on deceit but the nature of our meeting called for it.”

“You were afraid I was going to kill you?” you guess. Zhongli — Morax laughs and shakes his head.

“Even in my weakened state, you would have been incapable of it.” well damn . “I feared someone of greater power would catch wind of talk of a wounded god…but given your lifestyle, they held no merit. I apologize though…I know you may have suspected a while.”

Morax smiles and you try not to battle the disbelief that a good sat across you, eating your food and drinking your tea. “However, I have a question to ask you.” 

A pause

“What became of your deity?”

Your breath seizes and you meet his gaze. His stare seems to hold so much more weight to it and you look down. Your old god was a memory you sought to bury away well out of sight. Recollecting them only brought in a bitter taste and a dull ache and Morax notices it. “That’s a story for another day.” you finally manage out after some deliberation. Your tea has gone cold by the time you take another sip out of it, the air feeling heavier again. You wrinkle your nose at the taste.

He nods. “Then I will return and pay my debt in whole as well.” he decides. “Your kindness is one I shall remember, little one.” You hate how a part of you melts into this buttery, weak mess and when he smiles, you hate how it’s so easy to feel yourself tear at the seams, to beg him to stay a little longer. “Thank you.”

He was gone the next morning, a fresh batch of mist flower corollas left behind in an earthen pot alongside a delicate flower preserved in amber.  

“Good riddance.” you tell yourself, the words feeling forced.

You will miss him, you think.

He returns three months later, or maybe it was more. Time was easy to lose track of and the seasons were all you had to know of a passing year. By the time he arrived, the last remnants of winter had receded and you found yourself in the midst of spring, restocking your stores and setting soup to boil in the hearth. 

Should I bow? You think when he appears at your doorstep. Extend a greeting? Address him by his title? Your great eminence…no that sounds pretentious… You reminisce about your old customs, of the times you spent watching your mother lay out scented flowers and fruits at the feet of your deity during festivals or during victory feasts. Morax however, steps inside with a smile in greeting, his hand coming to tuck some stray hair out of your face.

Then comes the deja vu. 

You question why his arrivals were always timed on days when your home was a mess.

“Wait! We can talk outside.” saving the last few traces of your dignity is all you had in mind as you blockade the entrance. It would hardly do any good, you realize then; he was tall and he was far bigger and when he stops with a puzzled look and scans the room and the traces of stalks and unswept and unused parts of the herbs you were sifting through, a glint of understanding flashes in his eyes and he steps back.

You want to sink into the ground with the traces and remainders of you. Oblivion seemed a tempting option with the way your face burned and your heart hammers at a pace nearly hard to keep up with.

“My apologies.” he utters, letting you lead him outside. He does not seem as bothered or flustered, thankfully; nor does he pry as he erects a few makeshift seats sculpted from geo and sits himself down alongside you with a soft sigh on his lips. “I wish we could have met sooner,” he admits.

“Is that so? It’s hard to believe you’d bother…” you hum with a shy dip of your head. Morax considers this.

“Did you not ask for it?”

“I did…but I accepted the possibility of you not returning.” you cease for a second, recalling your promise to give him the answer he sought. It felt like a cheap trick, back then and it still does now, of you running away as you always did. “I'm glad you came back though…it was nice having someone around to speak to.”

Moax looks pleased with this. “I simply find your company enjoyable.” you feel a stirring in your stomach when he says that, and it feels like a wonderful sort of sweetness, like honey. “Even if our first few days spent together lacked any delicacy in approach.”

“You were quite stubborn.” you admit.

“I was, wasn’t I?” he agrees. You snicker.

“I wouldn’t blame you though. Even I had a hard time staying still when bedrest was forced upon me…how have you been?” your fingers slot together as you pull your knees closer to your chest, your cheek resting against your thigh as you watch the scenery in the distance. The mist had abated, just a bit and you could see the copse of trees expanding then scattering as the plains began. 

Morax exhales. “As I’ve always been.”

“Stubborn?”

“ Busy .” he corrects, flashing you a look of warning. You grin innocently. “The war has come to a temporary standstill. Only smaller battles seem to keep up…with the weaker gods mostly weeded out, planning our next move is of importance. I only have a few hours to spare now before I leave for Liyue.”

“Oh…” you take this in. Perhaps this was a sign of the war slowly coming to a close. Maybe during your time, if you were lucky enough, or in another hundred years or so. “Then…tell me about Liyue.”

Morax raises a brow but he smiles, humoring your question. “What would you like to know?”

“Plant life? What’s it like there?” you supply, leaning forward in quiet anticipation.

He chuckles. “Not of the people? Or its history?” he asks.

“You can tell me that too!”

He hums, his gaze softening. “It’s not uncommon to see mountains in Liyue,” he admits. “To say our weather has a stark contrast in the plains and the peaks would be an understatement. Juehyun Karst, the realm of the adepti is pleasantly cool most of the time, but the plains are hot and humid. That being said, our flora seems to take on this diversity as well…”

He tells you about the yellow sand bearer and the gold ginkgo trees that spot Liyue’s landscape, of the horsetail that covets the marshes and the reclusive glaze lilies that grow within the terraces. He tells you about the silk flowers nestled amidst the red bushes, always found in pairs and the violet grass sprouting forth off of cliffs. And he tells you of the qingxins that turned away from the warmth of the plains and grew in the distant peaks, looking down upon Liyue as a whole.

There was a sort of magic, listening to Morax speak of his nation with a layer of fondness and sadness. 

“Maybe when the war ends, I’ll visit. I think I'd like to start a garden some time.” you hum, surveying the empty patches of land in front of you. It would be nice to have a few more flowers around to brighten up the monotony you have grown accustomed to. His expression shifts, a brighter shine lighting up his eyes.

“You could stay there if you wish.” Disbelief rattles through your ribs and it steals your breath and pushes against your lungs. You fall silent, ceasing the anxious play with your clothes. “I could find a place for you amidst my people…would you like that?”

There was disbelief, yes, and a stutter in your words, but there is also the pang of appreciation and the tingle at your fingertips. However cold dread settles down ( for it is an old bedmate ) and Morax seems to catch on. “Have I misspoken in any way?” he questions, his hooded gaze appraising. 

You jerk your head. He had it all wrong and the last thing you need is a messy misunderstanding to fall into your pile of terrible mistakes. “No, no…I don’t think I'm ready to return to a land ruled by a god…or even around so many people…not yet…” you couldn’t bring yourself to word it out and it shames you. You are an adult. You needed to speak like one.

There is a faint brush on your cheek, the barest hint of a touch and when you look up, you see the suspicion he holds paired with concern. You want to shrink back, make yourself smaller, unknowable, something you were before he came along and made you care and vie after company and something as simple as touch.

“I assume it has something to do with your old settlement?” he asks.

You nod.

“We were hidden behind our god’s mist and illusions…our people were cut off from the rest of the world save a few soldiers and those who joined our god in battle. My mother would accompany them sometimes…she’d tell me about the world outside and we promised to visit a lake just a short walk from the barrier…” you hold out your hands, trying to grasp the words she had tattered. “She called it starlight on earth…or…something like a mirror clearer than any metal she’d seen. I wanted to go, but we were not allowed to leave.”

“You were not?” Morax asks. He leans in, listening closer.

“We were not.” you affirm softly. “Or god never spoke it…but we knew. They talked about demons lurking out and we were scared. One day…I couldn’t find her amidst the returning line of soldiers she left with…I did later…and I couldn’t even stand to look at the state she was in.” you stare ahead, the weight of his gaze resting even harder now. “I don’t know why…if it was grief or curiosity or a mix of both…but I thought I heard her voice one day…calling out to me. And I knew it was a trap, but I ran towards it, out of the forest, and the mist…”

You swallow hard. You felt cold. Cold all over, like that night, where the silence was unsettling and the sound of your name was a taunting whisper. Your mother, it was your mother, rigid at some times with her own rough edges and flaws, but loving for the most part. Your mother — and it was an old hurt you had locked in a box a long time ago, that time had weathered down till it was the embers scraped to the side of the charcoal pit.

“They were right…my deity warded off those things that attacked me…but they were bleeding everywhere . Balam was strong , but as a god…I doubt they held much in par to some of the others who warred out there…” Like you , you almost add. “They were weakened…unfit to fight in a state like that and we tried what we could. The wounds didn’t heal as we thought they should. I was banished for endangering their life and as I traveled…I heard of Balam’s passing in the hands of an invading god.”

“...and now, I'm here.” you finish, wryness coating every syllable. You wished your apathy was more than a weak front to bury away the stab in your heart; you wish you could be stronger than the coward you are. Morax shuts his eyes, his arms crossing over his chest.

He looks a little more like the god you were told about; sharp, pragmatic, with a presence that looms over most. “If there was a law that stated so, that forbade stepping out of your deity’s territory, then yes, you have committed a wrong. I have heard tell of Balam, whispers of their whereabouts and they did try to protect your people from a harsher way of life…” 

Ah, so that was his response. You wilt a little, feeling a mix of fury and defeat, at Morax, at the gods, at this war and at your own childish stupidity and audacity to even dare to feel this way. “I see…” you mumble. Morax holds up a hand, cutting you off. The words die in your throat faster than embers in snow.

“But,” he behind and his expression pulls into something gentler, lacking the initial rigid sternness it held. “Demons are still a force to be reckoned with. Even my adepti struggle with stifling down their noxious presence, whether it be the weight of karma or a disparity in power itself.”

Coherency is now a lost subject.

“I doubt you could have resisted its influence and Balam knew of the battle they would throw themselves into. Your god was willing to make that sacrifice, something of a rare sight amongst a few of the divine. Remember this well.”

A lump grows in your throat. It’s not an unwelcome one, quietly easing the nerves that crackled and frazzled beyond possible repair. You look down at your hands and your eyes slip shut as you take his words in, bit by bit. Balam was a god who, while distant within the front lines of battle, still loved their people.

It’s ironic how the gods can be capable of human sentiment and human error. 

“Thank you, Morax.” you mutter. “I needed that.”

“The bitter truth, or the comfort?” he jests softly. “Because while I deal well with the former, my skill with the latter falls abysmally short.” 

You laugh softly.

“For both .”

( His eyes light with surprise. Then you spot it, the faint flush on his cheeks and a dangerous thought enters your mind. You shake your head. It was best you didn’t raise your paltry hopes . ) 

He does not visit for a few weeks, but you spot a few saplings left behind at your doorstep, of plants and flowers you had never seen before.

You pick one up and a single word echoes in your mind — qingxins .

A smile tugs at your lips.

The distant noise of battle has grown reticent.

You tell it to Morax on one of his visits and he dares to flash a knowing smile in response. “The war is coming to its close. Only a few handfuls remain.” he states, tracing your bandaged hands; a new set of souvenirs from a stray whopperflower. You shiver involuntarily, leaning into him a bit more while longing tears your insides raw. “Hopefully you will come to enjoy an era of peace soon.”

“Will it end soon? The war?” you ask, wincing a little when he presses his fingertips down on the afflicted skin, bathing it in honeyed gold. “Ah! Gently!” you hiss, pulling back on reflex. Morax holds you fast, drawing you back to him with a playful tut and a sheepish glance your way.

“Apologies. Is this alright?” The pressure on your wrist still brings forth a sting, but it’s far more bearable. You nod. “Alright. Now hold still …” The glow returns, as does the tingling warmth and the tense nervousness gives way to a content sigh as the pain ebbs to obscurity. You watch your bandages fall away to skin mostly unblemished, save the faint traces of a scar left behind. “Better?” he asks.

You nod. “Much better…I wonder why you didn’t try healing yourself earlier. You’re not too bad at it.” he wasn't. Only a few humans were ever imbibed with the grace of divine power. You always longed to be gifted with the strength to heal, and you feet the slightest hint of envy as you take in the sight.

Morax blinks. “I was in too weak a state to do so. Healing is not my greatest strength either…I simply learned it, should it come to use amidst battle.” he flexes his fingers, the last flickers of gold falling away. His gaze meets yours with its usual intensity before he reaches for your other hand. 

“Hm…I suppose this means you’ve paid your part of the debt?” you tease. “You’ve healed me as I've healed you, right?” 

“True…” his lips quirk up as he mends the last of the burns, then presses a delicate kiss on your knuckles. “Does this mark the end of our contract?” The gesture only serves to fluster you further, bringing forth the feeling of fluttering warmth and the near lightness in your chest. Morax chuckles, his voice dipped to a teasing whisper as he calls out your name in a low, purring timbre.

“H-hold up!” you choke out, terrified of potentially overheating as you push his face away, stifling away the shy laughter that threatens to burst out. Morax shifts closer, closer still, his close presence having grown familiar through the meetings and the shared conversations and meals ( you missed the gentleness in his touch, you missed so much of him ).

“Hm? Stop what?” he teases, a cheeky glint lighting up in his gaze. “My, your face feels warm.” he adds with a soft simper, tilting your chin his way as he scans your features.

A desperate attempt to shift his attention comes to form. “Look at the qingxins you gifted me! They’re growing nicely, right?” you try to smile, looking at the flowers growing just a small ways from your home. Morax hums.

“They are. Give them a few months and they will come to bloom.” he replies, his wandering touch tracing up your arm, grazing at fragile skin and faint scars and the sensation has you shuddering. The glow in his eyes brightens and he huffs out something unintelligible, then asks you, “Would you like me to stop?”

You fall silent. “No it’s fine…” you sigh, reaching up to grasp his hand gently, ignoring the phantom stings as your finger splays out over Morax’s palm, at the dazzling gold dipped at the edges fading away to a spider web of veins and dark scales. “I like this.” you hum. Morax blinks, his cheeks coloring pink.

The intensity burns brighter in his gaze. It scorches at his touch and in the way he looks upon you now and as acute as it was, you felt blanketed beneath a safe warmth.

Morax speaks up, “I will make sure this war ends soon.” It was a promise, holding the weight of his blood. You feel it in every syllable, every rise and drop in his cadence. He leans in and the spice in his scent pervades your senses.

His lips are softer than you expected, mildly chapped from the heat and the battlefield, and between the buzz slowly beginning to sound off in your head and the feel of his touch brush away at your hair and rest on your cheek, your heart hammers hard in your ribcage. You feel the earth shift and watch the sky sweep away as you fall back on the grass and Morax palms at your hips and kisses you some more.

It feels like a distant dream, something you’d rather not wake from and when he pulls away to look you in the eye, you watch the smirk in his face grow as he dips down and buries his face into your neck, his pace languid, his claws gentle against the softness of your skin. You bite back a stray mewl when his teeth prickle down on sensitive flesh, slowly and deliberately making his way down down down, and his hand pressing flat on your thigh.

A glow flickers within his chest. He stops and tugs away with clear frustration, heaving as he watches you try to recover from the fog clogging up your thoughts, the memory of his touch warming every inch of you. Morax chews at his bottom lip. “I am needed again.”

“...oh…” you croak out, even if you wish to scream at the unfairness, to pull him back down atop of you and finish what he started. You shut your eyes, easing at your frayed nerves at the trembling and the traitorous dampness that was gradually settling in. The god in front of you holds a shadow of amusement and he kisses you again, gentler, with less teeth and tongue and more tenderness.

“I’ll come back,” he whispers. It holds another promise masked beneath the assurance, it’s cheekiness lighting his gaze.

When Morax’s form departs, you let out a shaky sigh, one hand delving into your heat while the other clamps over your mouth. The moment your slick coats your fingers, you moan into the silence, the promise persisting.

Morax thinks about you when the rains fall once more.

He thinks about you on the battlefield, waiting with that patient smile.

He thinks about you when his adepti fall and the last god is slain — when he finds his numbers dwindle, their blood staining his victory. He holds that memory of you close, that cherished warmth. His little flower.

Morax thinks about you. And he longs .

You came to know of patience’s workings through the days and months in between Morax’s visits, and this one is his longest thus far. The war persists still, the sound of the heavens screaming slowly growing quieter as deities were felled and the lands were stitched together by victories and defeats. You wonder where your old home lies now beneath the seven seats, what it would grow into in the near future.

Then one day, you wake to complete and utter silence.

The war is over. The roads had cleared. One day, when the world stills just a little more and the last few scars left behind have healed, you could try to visit the towns and cities beyond your isolated home.

Morax stays absent. You go on with your life. The qingxins he gifted you bloom in your garden. You wait, shedding away the accusatory remarks, the words that dare you to doubt his victory, that take your mind to darker spaces with the image of his still form and cold hands. No, absolutely not, you could not doubt him .

You repeat it over and over, beating down at the cynical whispering. Do not doubt him .

A storm rises again, blustering through the lands with the threat of tearing your home down from its stubborn foundations. You stay inside, the change in weather setting forth a persistent chill that your meager hearth could hardly hold against. Finally, after a few hours of running about, your body hunches over the blocks, feeding the fire with the last of your firewood.

“How much longer…” you mutter, storing away the last of your herbs when the rain refuses to cease and it grows harder to differentiate between night and day. The lightning thunders in response, asserting it’s long stay and you curl up by the warmth you fed, numb fingers gripping at old blankets and watching the rain beat down incessantly on your roof. It would be a long wait, you realize. It’s best if you find a way to pass the time.

There was another clap of thunder, then a crash that felt all too intimate with your memories. Then came the knocking and you scuttle up to let a drenched Morax in, his pupils blown wide and his body hot to the touch as he stumbles in. You’re almost afraid he’s fallen ill once more, but the insistent tug at your wrists has you follow him.

“Are you okay?” you ask, seating him down by the fire, moving to dry his hair after draping a sheet on his shoulder. “Morax, what’s wrong.” Despite the sudden appearance, you feel relief crash down and tug out a lump in your throat. You hold back the tears for his sake. You did not want to startle him in this state.

“A visit.” he shrugs.

“In this weather?” you question every ounce of wisdom he holds. He looks unbothered, pulling you closer to him while you squeeze the water out of his tresses, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. Warm breath pools out and hits your neck and a shiver racks at your body. “Morax — ”

“I missed you…” The hoarseness of his voice steals the words in your mouth. You latch onto him tightly, fisting at his robes, uncaring of the silk wrinkling beneath your rough hands. Morax does not stay silent or stay still, his hands sliding down your sides, pulling you closer up against him. “I missed you…” he repeats feverishly. The hunger in his stare is an answer enough.

The fire crackles and lets out a sputter.

Morax lays you on your back with a gentle thump and hooks a hand beneath your knee, pushing it up against your chest as he steals a kiss from you, heated and impatient after weeks of mulling over his affection and lust. “Stay still.” he orders as you squirm a little, wanting more, needing more, trying to bury yourself into him as much as humanly possible. 

Your open mouthed breaths did not help in the slightest as he steals another kiss, then another, the wetness of his tongue delving deep down your throat as he muffles out any sounds of shock from you —

— was it forked ?

You could not ponder over it for long, choking against the invading muscle while his lips caress yours with growing need and intensity. It made sense, for one like Morax — who adored talking about the origins of an obscure tea leaf to the festivities that littered the streets of his city — to fancy the act of kissing you. And he still keeps kissing you, over and over till your head spins and his body is pressed up flush against yours.

He noses at your neck with a noticeable huff, fingers dragging up the side of your hips, slowly, deliberately, till they tug at the hem of your clothes. Molten gold catches the anxious excitement bubbling within you and your eyes and you catch the smirk on Morax’s face.

“I’d like to continue.” he sounds breathless.

“ Go on then .” that threadbare line that held you together had snapped now. You do not think you could wait any longer than you have for him. Morax chuckles, bending down with a narrowed gaze till his nose brushes against yours.

“I haven’t finished my statement.” he chides and you don’t know what is worse, him dragging this out to a near painful pace, or the hand that caresses the inside of your thigh teasingly, drawing out a stray moan from your lips. “If you feel overwhelmed, or you wish to stop, we must establish a safe word.”

He waits expectantly and you scour your mind for the first word that pops into your head. “Squid.” you decide, shifting your hips closer to him. Morax lets out something between a wince and an amused chuckle, his hand leaving your thigh. You wine in protest, grabbing at his wrists to pull him closer.

“So needy.” he lilts. “Are you sure you want this?”

How cruel , you think unhappily, unsure of how to take his consideration; a loosely veiled attempt to drive you further into wanting or a call of sincere concern. You think you know Morax. You think it’s both.

“ Yes !” you cannot wait any more and neither could Morax, his claws curling round to clutch and tangle at the back of your head while he captures you in a devouring kiss. Your own experience hardly held a candle to his own practiced ease, but you do what you can, groaning into the clacking of teeth and the teasing little nips he leaves on your lower lip. 

His thumb traces down the side of your neck and hooks at your clothes, tugging away at the fabric to stroke your now bare shoulder. Morax leaves no trace of skin untouched by his lips and he brushes down the line of your collar bone, his teeth flashing in the candle light till you feel him bite down at the spot with a muffled growl.

The rush of pain and pleasure has you pressing your face down into the mattress with reeling shock, any moan held back in the midst of the hazy shock lighting up inside you. The action was mostly unintentional, but you were glad it could have saved you any further embarrassment in Morax’s eyes.

“Not a sound?” he asks, licking his lips with a predatory tilt to his head, regarding every inch of you with voracity. You stubbornly refuse to respond, lips sealed tight with a set of eyelashes batting up at him. Morax likes a chase and you give it to him, no matter how small it may be. “No matter. We’ll see how silent you are by the end of the night.”

The words hang in the air like an impending omen. You do not doubt him.

His voice dips to a sultry whisper as he undoes your top and lets it slide past your shoulders and down your waist till it was bunched to the side and lay there forgotten. The storm rumbles outside your window, and the wind prickles at your skin. Between Morax eyeing you down, mapping out every detail with his fingertips and the chill in the air, your arms instinctively move to hug yourself. 

“No.” His word was stern, absolute as he tugs at whatever covers your entirety from his gaze. “I’ve never seen you this shy before… adorable .” he purrs, stroking your cheek. 

“ Tease .” you test out.

Morax’s expression lapses to a playful smile in the midst of your indignation, leaning back to watch you with clear intent. He guides your legs around his waist and shifts you partly atop his lap, gently moving your hips to a slow grind against his torso. The sudden stimulation draws out a squeak, your cheeks set aflush.

“ Beautiful… ” his claws linger over your chest before it trails down to stroke your stomach. “You’re so soft , little love…” they stop at your shoulder, raking around the scar settled there, gnarled marks and torn flesh left behind by talons and teeth. You feel the flare of doubt and self consciousness flare back up, but it fizzles out when he bends to leave a kiss atop it.

It was hard to find a spot that he did not touch. Morax was precise, diligent, learning what spots made your squirm and whimper and shake beneath him with white hot pleasure. The rain’s roar was a distant muffle between the pleasant buzz in your head and Morax’s ragged breaths sounding in the otherwise quiet room. He hunches over you, nosing at your neck with near obsessive need, nipping, kissing — anything to cast on some semblance of his scent and essence.

Your chin nestles atop his shoulder, your sight trained upwards, oblivious to where Morax may choose to touch you next. The clinking of metal does draw in a few questions, most quickly answered when you feel his clothes give way and settle on your stomach. Then comes his teeth, sharp fangs sinking into you. You hardly register the moan you let out, or the heat that you sink into, desperate for more, for more skinship, for more of Morax.

“ Beautiful .” he repeats, a growl bleeding into every syllable, down to the rumble in his chest. He still donned his pants, but most of his clothes now lay scattered across the mattress, pushed aside a moment later with an impatient huff. 

You have seen Morax bare chested plenty of times before, when he first arrived wounded on the slope of your little mountain home. There was no denying he was a beautiful man, sharply lined with the faintest of silvered scars scattered beneath stark gold tattoos. “ Morax .” you mutter, lacing your fingers into his, tugging at him instantly. “Keep going.”

He smiles. 

“Patience.” he croons. You squeeze your eyes shut and hold back the swear resting on your tongue. “I have waited for so long…” his teeth don’t hold the old hesitance it did, now wholly marking you with delicious bruises and love bites. “...and I intend on savoring… ” his lips linger on the line of your jaw, tickling your ear. “... each… ” they brush down, down, down. “... bite… ” and true to his words, he sinks his teeth down again.

Your hands tangle at his hair, his hair tie snapping to your insistent tugging till burnt brown strands pool around him. He looked a little wilder, with how his eyes glow beneath the shadow cast on his face. You comb through them with a soft “So pretty.” earning a flattered hum whilst he cups your breasts, chanting your name lovingly.

You gasp at the feel of a soft pinch on your nipples. Morax lights up, a dangerous splay of his fangs flashing in your field of vision before he engulfs one breast within his mouth, suckling, biting, devouring greedily and the other grows sensitive to his slow strokes. “M-Mor–AX!” Your mewls peak and your hands grab at his shoulders, his back, at the sheets — somewhere , trying to ground you to the sensation. 

( He could hear your racing heart beneath his grasp and the sound of it makes Morax purr with an emotion so old and primal and possessive. )

He pulls away with a wet pop. “How do you feel?” he asks.

“H-hot.” you barely manage to blurt out. “Hot everywhere.”

That smile was back again, the one with the barest flash of primality. “Hot?” he repeats. You nod. It was hot, in your cheeks, your chest and your stomach and core — and you could hardly bring yourself to wait. With Morax’s resolve to take his slower pace. You curse his patience. You wish he was just as desperate. 

“I am.” he muses nonchalantly, ducking down to take your other breast in his mouth. “I crave every inch of you. I want to hear you sing, wǒ qīn'ài de .” his hand drags down, teasing the inside of your thighs with circular strokes. You buck your hips into him with a pathetic whimper, and Morax pounces at the lapse, tugging your underwear down with a single fluid motion then pushing his fingers into your drenched heat.

“Oh how obscene.” he lilts, a delighted shine in his eyes, momentarily bringing his slickened digits for you to see. “You’re drenched.”

“ Shut .” you snap, a depraved cry cutting you off as he teases at your entrance with one finger, thumbing up your core till he settles on your clit with a peased grunt. Your hips snap and shudder, tears slowly pricking at your eyes. It was an odd sensation, a buildup of pressure far greater than what you could coax out that tightens in your gut. 

Morax slides a finger in, slowly, gently. “ Ah — ” you bury your face into your mattress, spreading your legs further for him. He continues his slow thrusts, in and out and you revel in the sweet sensation. “Feels — f-feels good — ” 

His scrutiny comes with its merits, stroking your walls with an out of place gentleness as he watches every shift, keen and whine with a deep found appreciation and yearning. “You’re quite tight , little one.” he rumbles. You warble in response, bucking your hips into him as the pressure steadily builds and builds and builds.  

“I’ll be adding another.” he decides and he does, a second finger slipping in. the stretch stung and you fist at the sheets with a groan.

“N-no…t-too much — ah!” The broken whimper does elicit a sympathetic look from him and he kisses away the tears, thankfully easing his movements.

“I know, little love. I know.” you sink into his warmth, melting at the delicacy in how he holds you close. “But we’ll need to prepare you, don’t we? And you’re taking me so well too…” you think you are when the pain slowly subsides and the pleasure returns, your very being trembling when he scissors you. “Ah, witnessing the state you're in…it makes me wonder how well you’ll take something else of mine, hm?”

“M-morax!” you squeak, cheeks flushed. The embarrassing squelch from your core shuts you up immediately. You decide you’re better off muffling out your moans out of petty spite at this point and you seek your refuge in the covers, burying your face into your mattress.

Ha! You think, naively, foolishly, daring to assume that Morax would fold at the face of a challenge. A third finger slips through and the moan is smothered. You think you hear him chuckle and you think you see the excited flash in his eyes as he shifts and twists your body, laying you down on your stomach.

“So stubborn.” The delight is apparent in his cadence. His hand presses down at the small of your back, then his torso presses up against you, continuing his slow and agonizing thrusts with practiced pace. “The vitriol in your silence hardly diminishes how soaked you are. Your body is far more honest, it seems.”

“ MMPH !”

You gasp, feeling his fingertips stroke your g-spot, pulling you apart at the seams and chipping away at your mind. Everything feels distant and muddled and the pleasure was almost too much to bear. “Does it feel good when I touch you here?” you shut your eyes and curl up, bucking up into him uselessly. His weight restricted your movements and you doubt you could wiggle away for a temporary respite ( even if some masochistic part of you liked the deluge of sensations pile up steadily ). “I need words.”

Another thrust. You wail into your hands, whatever dogged decision to stay silent, now shattered. “Yes. Yes — P- please!” you haven’t the foggiest clue what you’re begging for at this point, but the fullness you feel from his fingers alone is enough. “L-like that. Morax please keep going.”

He adds a fourth finger.

“You keep tightening up…” he whispers, as if trapped in a trance of his own, your head lifting to press against his bicep while his movements momentarily slow to ease you in before his pace picks up and that slow, brutal torture begins again. 

You squirm, squeal, bite into his arm with vigor. Morax laughs, kissing your temple with comforting croons. “Good.” he coos, dipping his nose into your hair with a victorious purr. Your thighs squeeze around him and your hips jolt forth. The pressure steadily building up in your stomach seems to crest while you chime out his name. Your orgasm seeps closer and closer and closer —

He pulls his fingers out and you bite back a cry, a protest, tears pooling out as dismay settles fast. Was it something you said? Was it something you’ve done? Why did he stop?

“Why…” you manage out, stroking his hair. Morax raises a brow then slides down, his lips latching onto your inner thigh with a groan. You fist at the sheets again, a vague idea coming to form between the haze and the jumbled confusion and disappointment and it sets a spark of excitement. 

A pause.

Morax meets your gaze.

He smirks.

You stifle back a scream when he bows his head down and laves at your heat, catching the receding traces of your buildup and letting it reel in steadily. His tongue was greedy, warm, devouring you whole as he slicks it through your drenched folds, and — oh gods —

Whatever praise that you cry out turns into a feverish mantra being babbled out over and over, the sharp mountainous air taking on a headier scent. Your validation was enough to spur him on, it seems, every bit of Morax, from the practiced gentleness to his eagerness to undo you coming to shine with the fervor of a starved animal. 

“ Good .” he growls out, claws digging down a little harder into the softness of your thigh, his teeth and tongue grazing and toying at your clit. You clap your hands over your mouth once more, a squeak cut short, only to have them pinned down by him. He flashes you a warning glare before gold light illuminates your wrists and you feel the weight of geo press them down to your chest.

The cuffs were heavy, and they did their job well as you could only grab at air while his licks grow more languid. Your thighs were pushed back with a single fluid movement and a flustered cry escaped with your sudden exposure. 

“Ah — ”

You tug at his hair, drawing out another delicious moan from his throat. Liquid gold appraises you, taking every detail in, between your fucked out expression and your twitching body. Morax presses against your sweet spots, and you could have sworn some strange magic were at play, with every careful thrust and every slow vibration. You could hard;y word out the state you were in, your mind all cotton wool with little thought.

Overwhelming…indescribable…that was a way to put it.

Morax does not complain about your growing insistence, your moans growing louder, your thighs squeezing round his shoulders, your attempts to free yourself from the stone shackles he placed on you.he must be just as far gone with your arousal in his mouth ( and that was true ). You hope he won’t turn to cruelty like the last time and deny you of your orgasm. It was a delirious pitch in the back of your mind, a soft cry.

“I-I think i’m close — ” you gasp, feeling that knot grow tight as the tell tale spill of an incoming release shudders up your spine and fingertips. Morax looks at you, the gold of his eyes wide and his pupils blown out with suppressed mischief. A well-timed thrust from his fingers served your undoing.

“Go on then.” he relents.

You sob into the sheets gratefully, pleasure rippling through as the coil snaps and you crumple and sink into a state of unawareness. You could only just register Morax sitting up, thumb swiping at his lips, licking away at the mess you made, smeared between his thighs and on him. “S-sorry!”

He shuts his eyes, quiet bliss washing over him. “I could devour you here and now…” he mutters in indulgence. He rubs your sore wrists down, pressing kisses against the expanse of skin with an apologetic smile. “You look tired. Shall we stop here?”

Alarm lines your features. “What about you?” you blurt out, bug eyed and still fatigued from your orgasm. Morax doesn’t respond, laying down next to you. You feel a bitterness line your mouth and you find yourself pushing your body up and crawling atop him. Morax opens one eye, amusement quirking at his lips.

“Oh?” he doesnt bother feigning surprise as his clawed grip settles on your hips. You try to hide yourself, embarrassment from your bold move hardly aiding in your focus as you slide his pants down and stare, he bore two of them, standing erect against your stomach. You helplessly glance at him. 

“You’re…you’re big..” you tell him dumbly. “I-I don’t…I don’t think I can take both of them…” Morax chuckles.

“We’ll take it slow then. You only need one.” he decides, helping you up. You steady yourself on his shoulders, carefully laving your entrance with him before you lower yourself onto him, feeling the first telltale sting that has you stop with a whine. “Careful.” he speaks up, rubbing at your sides and you try to be, taking him bit by bit. Morax stretched you out in a way his fingers couldn’t and his second shaft rubs at your sore clit, leaving you jolting with sparks of pleasure.

He was roving every inch of you, biting down at his bottom lip when you clench around him. Every bit of him screamed of his self control hovering a step away from a more viscous beast. You don’t think you’re ready for what Morax tucks away in the corners of his mind, but you hope, hope that you could indulge him some day.

You were soaked enough for him to slip in with ease, a collective of your and his arousal trailing down with an audible squelch every time he dared to grind up a little more against you. “Fuck….” he whispers out, a rare lapse in demeanor. “D-does it hurt?”

“No.” you shake your head, a half lie. It stings, yes, but the slow haze of euphoria was pressing up and you knew he would stop if you showed the slightest sign of discomfort — and you did not want him to stop. Not with this lovely warmth, and with him holding you like you were the most delicate of flowers.

The sound he makes is animalistic and he thrusts, just a little, into you. He could hardly help himself, seemingly just as lost as you were ( and he was, with his parted lips and fluttering lashes ). You curl into him, pressing your face into his neck. “That’s it.” he whispers mindlessly. “Wonderful, y-you’re taking me so well…don’t rush now…”

You take the rest of him, seated snugly on his lap with a shaky mewl, tears pricking at your eyes. Morax bares his teeth, groaning freely as the air itself seems to crackle against you. You open your mouth, trying to say something, anything, but he pins you down with a single look. “Little minx .” he rasps.

A laugh bubbles up. You wonder if it’s from amusement, or from the overwhelming rush of dopamine or both. 

He kisses the corner of your lips, gathering his bearings. “You’ve had your moment of fun, little love. Now move .”

“Yes sir…” you sigh, and do just that, lifting your hips just a bit before you rock back down onto him. “S-shit…s-so good…” 

Morax hums, pursing his lips. His face was flushed and the tattoos on his arms were cast in gold and light. He takes matters into his own hands, pounding up into him with sudden force and your teeth chatter and your eyes roll back with a pathetic whimper.

A few marks of your own were delivered, from your nibbling as Morax continues to thrust up into your drenched cunt, and from your nails scratching at his back. His approval was punctuated by a particularly hard one, that made your head spin and had you see stars. You vaguely register the scent of petrichor through everything else.

“ Morax — ” 

The state you were in only behind to sink in. That he was inside you, that he was taking every chance to draw out these obscene sounds from your lips. Even gods could not escape the perversion of mortal desires. Was this even considered blasphemy at this point, when he seemed to be stuck on the same boat as you were, sinking so fast into his lust?

“ — so good for me .” he guides your legs around his abdomen, whispering your name with a weak whine. He bites at your neck, at the marks he inflicted, then soothes them with kisses. He rubs your back and strokes your hair, his tender touch contrasting against his rough movements, grinding into your sweet spots and paired with his second cock rubbing at your clit, you could only lose yourself a second time.

That knot tightens and you feel the onset of your release. It was close, fast coming and you tug at his hair to warn him. Morax growls, his tail winding round your ankle. You try to keep up, try to ride him, but his pace far outmatches yours, stretching you out, pulling you flush against him. You let him use you, your monks reaching a feverish peak, grasping a taste of heaven on your tongue.

“Morax — ah!”

He curls into you, around you with an engulfing embrace with whispered words being uttered into your ear, “Do you want to cum?” You jolt your head. “Then cum… ”

And the bliss washes over you as you finally find it, slumping up into Morax;s patient arms with a near boneless stance. Your eyes met his, the hunger that still rages as he watches with awed fascination at how you come apart and piece back together again with teary eyes and a debauched smile.

“Beautiful.” he mumbles, then presses you face first into the sheets, still sheathed deep inside you. You only just realize he still has reached his own peak yet when he moves, absently reaching out for a pillow for you to grasp.

“God…M- morax — ” you were tired but with overstimulation settling fast and your own desires to see his pleasures being met, you bite into the pillow with a helpless whine. There was a rush in the pain you felt, from feeling all that pleasure wrap into a tight knot while he slicks back and forth into you, hitting your g-spot again with insistent grunts. His pupils were blown wide, like he was trying to take in as much of you as he could.

“M-more!” you blurt out then wince, feeling a hint of shame prick at you for being so greedy. It was about him now; sure you could put your own needs aside.

Morax however, smiles. “ More ?” he coos. “You want more?”

A gasp. You feel his hand settle on your clit, his untouched cock brush against your thigh. “Now who am I to deny you?” He continues his rough thrusts, godly stamina barely denting at his reserves and his pace. Perhaps that came with being an adeptus, this unending virility and endurance. Morax kisses at the back of your neck, laying down more marks to serve as a reminder for the next few days ( that you were, undoubtedly and irrevocably his now ).

Wanton moans pour out easily. Morax delights in them, carefully stimulating spots that were sure to bring the most out of you. The initial phase of searching and mapping out and learning was long gone — he was always quick to pick up on things, and things that make you fall apart into a quivering mess so easily were no exception.

It feels so good. So good —

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks. You feel sore in the best of ways and you nod. You don’t want him to stop. You don't ever want him to stop, drunk on the overstimulation, the euphoria, his cock, him —

Morax lets out a shaky exhale and slams even harder into you. “You’ll be my undoing...” he whispers and you turn your head, catching a glimpse of him. His straight faced composure was long gone, what careful parts of him he keeps hidden from sight having fallen over. Claws prickle at your ass, his eyes are trained on you, you you and when he meets your gaze, he captures your lips in a heated kiss.

“What kind of spell have you ensnared me with, little love?”

You could say the same thing. You try to, cut off by a rough grind on your clit. A lump builds up in your throat, vaguely recalling his small gestures of affection, his admissions, through your heat hazed mind and you arch your back into him to catch another kiss. Morax never needed to say the words and you were fine with it. 

“I love you.” you tell him instead, taking everything you had to get your tongue to move. Morax freezes up. He shuts his eyes and strokes your cheeks and buries his face into your neck.

“My Qingxin.” he whispers, tenderly, lovingly. The faltering in his pace, the sloppier jerks of his hips, then undertones of strained control beneath his moans signal his release. You grasp at his free shaft, and the gasp that echoes out was a rewarding one as you stroke him along into his release. “In or out?” he grits out, stuttering for a second. You feel the drag of his cock against your walls. “In.” you blubber.

You blank out after, feeling the rush, the fullness, him spilling out of you, between your legs, onto the mattress, over your stomach. Morax lets out a shudder, his marks glowing a faint gold before he pulls out. His hand does not leave your clit. Coaxing your third peak out with gentle kisses and insistent mumbles. The pain was sharp but you drink it in, pride lining every crevice of you till you jolt, that pressure finally releasing.

“Thank you.” you mumble. Intimacy was always so foreign, and a kind touch was a far away thought. Morax settles down, pulling you to him as he kisses away the drying tears and the sated touch starvation. He kisses you on the lips. Then the tip of your nose. Then at the bites he inflicted. 

“Rest.” he whispers. 

The cadence of his voice made it hard to disagree with and you feel unconsciousness wash over you fast. You could vaguely make out the sheets being changed and a damp cloth washing you down.

Morax’s weight next to you was the last thing you register.

“Are you well?”

Morax could count the number of times you sought refuge beneath his arm, eyes roving the stalls in the harbor with caution and nervousness. Your jumpiness was an expected clause, and a slightly endearing one as he walks you along the streets as a mortal man and his lover. There were no gods in Liyue Harbor today, at least none the people were aware of.

“Zhongli.”

He turns his head. “Yes, love?”

You fall into earnest silence. “I think I'm going to freak out.” you say. As taught as a bowstring against him. You grip at his hanfu tighter. “They’re staring. Why are they staring?”

“I suppose a new face does bring raised brows. That…” he dips his head down, nose brushing against your cheek with a loving chuckle. “...and you look exceptionally beautiful today, love.” You tug at his sleeve. “Ah, would some food ease my flower’s nerves then?” another tug. He takes that as a yes.

Even so, Morax knew you. Qingxins were flowers that know the intimate dangers of the mountain side and the bustle of the harbor below. You will grow, as you do and you will adapt as you do, maybe slowly, maybe quickly. He knows not to rush it along and he contents himself with your company and your curious question and the bliss on your face when you try a skewer.

“Liyue is beautiful.” you admit after a while. “Crowded, but beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not used to this.” you tell him for the umpteenth time, quick, apologetic and Morax has none of that ( why would he ever see it fit to fault you? ). He takes your hand, pressing a fluttering kiss on your palm. 

You shoot him a flustered glare. He smiles. “We’ll take our time. This old man has much to spare.” and he does.

He’ll wait millennia if it is for you. 

📼 — AUTHORS NOTES

reposting done XD.

TAGLIST ノ join the taglist. — @silentmoths @meimeimeirin @sleepynoons @meirvelle @endursent.

@jessamine-rose @ofoceansandtombsanew @chiyoso @4acoffee @loveliluc.

[twstedfreak]

tags: mdni, smut, dragon!morax, MONSTERFUCKING, rut/mating cycles, predator/prey, double dragon cocks, double penetration, CERVIX FUCKING, size kink, mentioning pregnancy, mating, bro has a worship kink, breeding kink hints (he's in a rut dont hold it against him) a.n: (what have i done) this is the first porn with plot I've written and I gotta say; it is damn long.... happy valentines my dears, enjoy! pairings: zhongli x afab!reader

Lord Morax is a god; but he is more than that, he is an adeptus. illuminated beast. this fact needs no introduction, everyone knows. 

so when he took leave to a remote part of liyue somewhere, unknown to even his retainers, no one dared to bat an eye. the rain has fallen heavy, the season has become damp, and the scheduled time is near; Rex Lapis will have his rut.

it didn't take long for people to figure out the reasons for his absence; not when the lord became increasingly unfocused during stately meetings a week prior or when his eyes would turn to slits with a whiff of a woman's perfume for a month’s time.

You, the lone herb picker of a local pharmacy, didn't know any better when you stumbled upon a large hollowed-out cave that wasn't supposed to be there. you are familiar with the terrains, hell, you know it like the back of your hand -- so imagine your surprise when you find a nesting dragon inside, heaving, grunting alone; its horns glowing with a bright amber before its head snapped to your directly, eyes instantly turning to slits.

at first, you stumble backwards, watching as the figure slowly but surely towers over your frame; your neck cranes to meet its molten bronze eyes. it didn't take you long to realise whose privacy you had so ungraciously barged into; your mouth dries and you dropped your basket full of violetgrass, your heart beating out of your chest before your feet finally got some sense and took running to the woods. 

'fuck fuck fuck.'

you are going to die- you are so sure you are going to die. when your feet stumble and trip over branches and air, when you can hear him gliding through the sky; undoubtedly searching for you. The sounds of his scaled body burst through the leaves of the ginkgo trees, or of his deep, rough growls that echo through the forest. With every heavy step you take, you can feel him getting closer and closer. The thrill and fear mix inside of you, your body stirs with blood coursing through you. Weirdly amid the fear you feel-- somehow excitement came into the mix; something about your life being in the mercy of a chase?

Why is he there again? Rut? So will he fuck you or will he kill you? You certainly prefer one to the other. 

Your legs continue to run, even as you trip and fall, or when you stumble upon a rock or two; searching for an exit to a nearby village or open path; but no matter how far you run you can't seem to find the correct way. Your eyes scanned all directions before your body was suddenly pinned down under a sudden force and unmoving weight.

The paws of a creature so large that it covers your entire back, its talons digging into your back. The smell of freshly dug earth and exotic spices violates your nostrils and your heart can't help but thump against your chest just a little faster. You turned your neck, finding the dragon’s face mere inches from yours; his hot breath grazing the exposed skin of your neck. 

“Please don’t kill me.” god your voice sounds so desperate; with a hint of a broken whimper- even you are embarrassed by that fact. but your god didn't seem disturbed, instead he let out a low grunt, before hissing back a reply.

"don't beg."

"...huh?"

"don't." he spat the word, seeming holding something back. "beg."

"b-but--"

he didn't let you finish, picking you up by the scruff of your neck before throwing you to his back. he flew you back somewhere, you didn't care to notice since most of the flight back you are scrambling for something to hold on to; whether it is the golden spines or his actual body.

by the time you both arrive at the entrance of the familiar cave, he has waited for you to get off his back. you inclined, of course, shakily getting a feel of the ground below, catching your breath whilst adrenaline courses through you. once you get a feel yourself, your eyes travel to him, catching his large form walking slowly to the back of the cave.

"you won't kill me?" you find yourself asking; his head then slowly turns to you before, a visible look of confusion etched on it.

"Why would I?" his deep rough voice replies. he is definitely holding something back, the way his lips parted a bit to let steam out of his mouth, the sharp teeth that are visible from them make you gulp the pooling saliva in your mouth.

"Because... cave..."

weak reasoning, you'd have to admit, but if he won't kill you then you'd have to be sure of the other possibility. "then would you fuck me?"

the look on his face deepened before his head hung low, and a soft whisper came to you for a reply. "what makes you think of that?"

"It's your- Rex Lapis it's your time of..."

embarrassed, incredibly embarrassed; that's the feeling you felt, with the heat of blood rushing to your cheek and thumping heart against your chest only enforcing the fact.

"it is time for my rut, yes," he confirmed, his gaze thrown to the floor, avoiding your figure, "but I am not one with lost senses; sleep, it is night, it will be safer to leave in the morning."

you nod weakly, shuffling your way to the walls and plopping down on the dirt before curling up. the heat in your cheeks refuses to prevail as you watch him walk back, his long tail moves with each step he takes, the tuff at the end resembling that of golden clouds.

"My lord why are you moving so far away?" you asked, instantly biting your lip the moment that question escaped your mind, realising how desperate you sounded with that pretence.

"your arousal," he states matter of factly. "you. I can smell it."

you look at him wide-eyed, your face now comparable in its heat to the sun, your lips agape.

"it's safer for you this way," he continues.

"do you not want to?" archons you are greedy aren't you. "your rut- I can.. help..."

"I doubt it." his voice is precise, he says it like it's a fact, not even letting you have a space to express your desire. "they are the size of your thigh and their length..."

"I can try." bold- now you are being too bold. the size of your thigh he said? now you can feel your ears getting heated up from the shame. your thigh now pressed together as you imagine him inside of you; a second pass and your arms no longer placed nicely on your lap, instead instinctively protecting your chest.

his gaze looms over you, his snout now only a hairsbreadth away from your neck; a long deep breath he takes is audible before he groans out a reply.

"Do not test me human," something inside of him is threatening undone, you know it, "I will breed you till your womb is full and your consciousness lost-- if that is not what you desire then stay quiet and sleep; I shall bring you the village in the morning but until then speak not of this."

you gulp, now your lips parted before you crane your neck and place a shaky kiss on his scaled cheek, the heat of his body contrasting the cold of your flesh. "... that is what I desire--"

with that your clothes are torn apart; the valuable silk you spend months of your wage on is gone and your naked skin is exposed. the cold air hardened your nipples and he took notice, his head travelling down, his long forked tongue lapping sweetly onto them, earning your strangle out a moan.

"getting aroused from a chase," he breathes out, almost teasing you; hot breath contrasts that of the cooling saliva on your perked buds, sending vibrations down your spine. "thinking you can take a dragon's cocks, wanting to be the mother of my offsprings -- what bold actions you possessed."

you let out a whine, his tongue now travelling down, ever so subtly closing down to your cunt. you pressed your thighs together; embarrassed, already feeling your arousal seeping out of you before his claws forced them wide open, earning your moan.

"you are pooling my dear," he almost chuckled, his eyes narrowed as he licked his lips, his breath now grazing your quivering folds, unexpected whimper broken out of you.

"please?"

with that word you can feel the air snap hotter, his eyes now meeting yours; his form towering over you before he chuckle, training down kisses, his tongue now making sure you are covered in his scent.

"didn't I tell you not to beg?" his claws hold your thigh open and he took a lap of your cunt, almost smiling at your taste. "do you know why my dear?"

"n-no--"

your moans escape, feeling his tongue entering you, fucking you, stimulating your walls, not letting you escape. you arched your back, biting your lips as another whimper persisted. you feel his hand moving, now pressing his claws to your other hole, expecting you to open up; and you let him, your holes now stuffed full of him before you feel his tongue slip out of you, your whine tells him as much about what you want.

"Because if you beg..." he now moves his hands to your ankles, folding you in half and you watch helplessly, his two golden cocks decorated with geometric lines and veins on either side, one on top of the other- he does not lie, the size of those things are comparable to your thigh, its length will most likely penetrate your womb- "I will answer."

he chuckles subtly, aligning his cocks to both of your holes, its weight now pressing down on you, precum leaks out of them, lubricating you further.

"i am a god, my dear; I always answer."

with that he presses his cock head to your holes, hoping both of them will ease up. you moan his title out, causing him to snap his head to you, making him greedy.

Your little groan and hiss only help you muster up the strength to let loose, feeling your holes easing up before they let his cockheads in, making your chest heave.

he grunts against your neck; and you feel his teeth subtly tracing your shoulder, little nips that satiate his hunger, burying his head in its crook.

"Celestia." the way you feel around the tip of his cock is incomparable; the dragon finds himself clenching down his jaw, controlling his urges to slam you down to its hilt. "you are made for me my dear."

he grabs a hold of your hips, and you feel him sliding you down. you let out a low moan, your back still arched as you feel him inside of you more and more. the burn from the stretch doesn't scare you, even if you feel like you are being split in two- you only know the pleasure that waits for you not so out of reach.

not even halfway and you already feel him brushing against your cervix, your broken moan coupled with the way you rolled your hips almost makes him snap. his other cock too now deep inside of you- almost too deep; you feel the pressure against your throat, feeling his cocks twitch, almost making you jolt, your hand searching from his arm, nails now digging into his scales.

he looks at you, his parted lips letting out steam before his uneven breathing stops to let him speak. "I shall move now."

you look at him, biting your lips and nod firmly, affirming your readiness. you feel him trying to go out of you, your cunt and hole tightening around him, almost hungry before he slams into you, earning your cry of pleasure.

it persists; he goes out of you before he slips inside, messaging your walls before they tightened around him again, hungrily seeking him, your face now fucked out with pleasure, feeling him abuse your holes.

"I'm not even all the way in my dear." he almost smirks, you can see it. before you know it, you suddenly feel him picking you up, your walls being freed from his cocks, suddenly empty and you whine; letting him flip you to your stomach and holding your ass up in the air.

he marvels at the sight, seeing both of your holes gape yet clench down on nothing, it almost made him giddy.

"my beautiful follower," he mused, his claws now digging into your flesh before you feel his cocks lining up with your holes again; embarrassingly you can feel your cunt relaxing, ready to take him in once more. "will you be my mate now darling?"

"yes!" your desperation stays, you want him inside you so bad, "please Rex Lapis please!"

you didn't know what did, but you certainly awaken something in him. he brings you up in the air before slamming you down on his cocks, your walls now taking him fully, your stomach bulging out with his shape. your breath knocks out of you; you can feel him all the way in your womb, your hand can't help but trace the raised flesh, your spine almost shivering from the sensation.

"keep begging."

that sounds like an order; even your now fucked out brain knows that. so like the good follower you are you follow that order.

"Please make me your mate," you choke out, his slow rhythms that know your breath slowly but surely going faster, brushing up against all your pleasure spots, making you roll your eyes to the back of your head. "please please please please I wanna- I want--"

he chuckles, the way you mewl your pleas, the way your warm flesh tightens around him; he can even feel your walls hungrily sucking him in so nicely. in his mind he is thanking Celestia; because fuck, you are a masterpiece.

"a human could die from this," he grunts out, going in and out of you with an inhuman pace, your cunt and hole loosening with his movements. "not you my dear; you are made for me."

you whine from his statement, the bludge he created only drives you to the edge, feeling something inside of you tightening, your nails digging into his scaled flesh, your face supported by his nose. "R-rex Lapis i- my-- i'm--"

"you want to cum my dear?" he almost teases you with the question, his cock brushing, bullying your g spot, making you dig your nails further, your head could only nod desperately at his question. "hold it, you could only cum when I do."

you whine out with his order, and he lets out a subtle groaning with it, chuckling at your reaction. his hand moves down, large talons brushing against your hard clit, teasing the nub; knowing exactly what it will make you do.

you wrapped your arm around his neck, his golden mane brushing against your flesh so softly; and your tug your face on them, muffling out your long moan and desperate cries.

"fuck- please lord mo- morax- r-rex lapis please- i want- i wanna- please please please-"

he kept his word, his face moving and kissing your neck, feeling you move your pelvis to fit him better, your inside hungrily brushing against his shaft. his brow knits, he feels himself almost coming undone.

"now."

with a final thrust, he fills both of your holes with white ropes of cum, you yourself arching your back, feeling your orgasm hits you harder than ever before. he hear your pants before he coils around you, closing gaps between the two of your while still being inside of you, wrapped up by your own warmth.

"i shall make the wedding preparation after the season's over," he breath out; your mind finally able to join the sentence together before you move your head, repeating the most important word again.

"wedding..."

"of course my dear," he kisses you, his snout pressed against your jaw before he tugs his head onto your collar bone. his hand travels to your stomach, rubbing the visible buldge that only grows with his cum, almost making look pregnant.

"the little ones will be coming soon."

[twstedfreak]

— ☆ contents: dealing with dragon!form zhongli who possesses cat-like behaviours. human reader. dragon husband. sfw. fluff. established relationship. might be a little ooc. this is very unserious. 0.6k. | masterlist (i’m a dark content blog so mdni).

Dragon!Zhongli who acts much like an affectionate housecat despite his towering size and the magnitude of his status.

He, who is so comfortable around his human partner that he isn't afraid to bear his dragon form day-to-day, lest his cat-like behaviours (endearing as they are) go unnoticed.

Every time you run your fingers through the silk of his dark locks or scratch at the base of his horns, that's when it starts. A deep, soothing vibration beneath his scaled chest. The low rumble is almost hypnotic as his amber eyes drift closed, lulling him (and yourself) into a state of ease. If you remain watchful, you'll catch the corners of his lips curl ever-so-slightly upwards.

You can’t help but giggle because you know it’s not quite purring, but it might as well be.

Dragon!Zhongli whose tail is as much part of his personality as his deep voice and eloquent spiels. First and foremost, that thing is unapologetically heavy. When he’s in a good mood, it swishes around lazily, thumping against the furniture or brushing against your legs as he walks by.

Once it knocked over an entire stack of books and while you were busy laughing, he just sighed and said, “An unfortunate accident.” But if he’s feeling especially affectionate? Even worse. That's when you really have to watch out. It possessively curls around you and suddenly you’re dealing with the weight of a solid tail pulling you closer to him. You’ve almost toppled over a few times because of it.

“Careful, Zhongli,” you’ll tell him. “You might end up sweeping me off my feet.” Then he chuckles at you, tail tightening around your waist just a smidge.

That’s the idea, of course.

Dragon!Zhongli who feigns annoyance every time you act on your favourite habit: lifting his lips to inspect his fangs.

They’re a far cry from the tiny, delicate teeth of a cat, which is the only other creature you’ve subjected to this odd little inspection but that makes them even more fascinating.

"Must you do this every time?" he asks, lips pulling back just enough for you to admire them. They were sharp, pristine, and unsettlingly perfect. Enough to crack a bone with a single snap of his jaw but it was the same mouth he kissed you with. You never got used it.

"I'm lucky you’ve never nicked me with these," you’ll tease, brushing your finger along the largest fang.

Zhongli's responses are always the same: a long exhale as if you've just asked him to recite every contract he's ever known (which he could btw), followed by, “You’re enamoured with the oddest things.” But he lets you do it anyway. His words begin lose a bit of their weight when his tail slowly starts swaying behind him, exposing that he’s enjoying it more than he lets on.

And no one will ever believe you when you tell them how he is when he's feeling playful. It's a rarity but he'll nudge you gently with his horns as a display of affection and if you don't respond right away, he'll flick his tail at you. Not hard but enough for you to look his way.

Pay attention to me, it seems to say.

It’s mischievous, even if for a moment. Then you’ll catch a glint in his eye while he pretends to be all composed, but truly, he finds it amusing how he easily this form could be used as a weapon against you when he warrants his own needs.

The mighty dragon, who can command the earth itself, is stripped of his grandeur when you're around, replaced by a creature who wants nothing more than to be with you in the simplest way. And if you mention it, he’ll give you that look of half exasperation and half fondness before pulling you closer and acting like it’s purely your fault he’s such a softie with you.

a/n: if it wasn’t obvious already, i am a cat person (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)

© 2025 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

[twstedfreak]

⟣┄─ ˑ 〃Boyfriends in their half-dragon forms using their tails to wrap around you whether that's when cuddling or pinning you down. Wrapping around your leg to keep you spread open for them, around your midsection as you ride them. their nails and fangs leaving visible marks on your soft skin as you work to bring you both to your climaxes.

[twstedfreak]

ᥫ᭡ 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 — based on the ⌞HSR version⌝

tartaglia, diluc, ayato, morax, pantalone.

contents: female reader / mentions of violence / switching / rough and soft sex / consensual somnophilia / oral fem receiving / breeding kink / size kink / classic double-wielding Morax / goddess reader in Morax’s and she suffers from the heat / belly bulge / mentions of getting injured during sex / free use-reversed / semi public for Pantalone’s and Morax’s / established relationship. not suitable for minors.

TARTAGLIA—fighting for dominance

Despite what someone might think, Tartaglia wasn’t all about dominance and control — at least not 24/7. While the bloody past and present will always follow him, and be an ironed and branded part of his life, the man liked to make himself to be just a regular guy — when Fatui wasn’t sending him out of Snezhnaya for missions, or when he didn’t have to beat up someone cocky over an unpaid debt.

Which didn’t mean he’d let go of his defenses easily. No, he needed to put in his place, so he could feel as if he earned and deserved the rest — besides chasing the obvious thrill your little wrestling could bring. You didn’t even need to be physically strong, as long as you were armored with different tactics to make him submit, a game you two have been incessantly recycling.

You were on a losing side at the moment, pinned under your ginger-haired lover who was grinding against your naked crotch, his cock almost bending in half upon small thrusts. Tartaglia was a tough opponent, as the stimulation was driving you crazy, yet you could see the effect of his own actions — he was self-sabotaging himself.

“C-come on, great warrior, aren’t you going to fight back?” he taunted through the flush in his voice, it becoming raspy from stifled groans. His hands were gripping your wrists above your head with maintained confidence, but didn’t you know better.

“You are an idiot, Ajax,” you said cheekily, before you were grinding your pussy back at him like a mean woman.

The scales were tipped, you realized, when his pace faltered and he actually moaned, as you have returned the gesture much harder than his limits would allow him to handle.

Still prideful and prevailing, he clicked his tongue, not letting you win so easily. That distasteful guy pinched your clit, now handling your wrists with one hand for the sake of this; making you whine and him laugh in victory.

You had enough. When with another grind his cock was angled to rest in a more straight line, you suddenly pushed your hips forward and forced him to fill you up in a one, smooth manner. Ajax froze for a morsel of time, still as paralyzed by the sudden warmth and squeeze, before collapsing on top of you like a deflated balloon. You almost broke him with that very unexpected and new from a genius like you tactic; so much he couldn’t even thrust into you when impossible for an overheated by quick dive him, as if walking into a cold water with no prep.

You were lucky to be a champion as you finally could maneuver him onto his back to start using his cock, breaking your lover further.

“F-fuck…” he cursed with a shaky voice, and he punched the bed’s headrest when you started to ride him with a great appetite. With a body slack, he could only watch your bouncy tits and see his cock disappear inside your greedy hole; his precious girl rewarded additionally with a grind of his ginger pubs against her clit.

No need to worry, no need to replay brutal visions in his mind when he had you to take care of him — that is, if you weren’t perhaps level up higher in cruelty than his opponents were. Even so, the difference was in the fact that he wanted you to be cruel and that he chose you to be cruel with him; the control remaining in that truth itself.

“Dammit, I can’t, you’re too hot—” he mumbled, almost incoherent, and a “sweet” lover you were, you leaned down chest to chest to kiss him as sweetly; still fucking yourself on his cock from below. With his state, it was sloppy and messy, Tartaglia drooling over your mouth.

When you ended the kiss, you grabbed onto his hands to place them on your hips to keep him somewhat grounded, because you didn’t plan to be that merciful. They quickly mended their own weakness as you were roughing him up, too spontaneously to catch up, with deep and fast strikes. You felt him in your guts, it was hard for you to remain sane too; and yet you couldn’t stop — you needed to fuck out every last drop of fight from Ajax.

“You can’t just…!” he gasped, his legs already trembling. The paleness of his hands turned red from the extra strength on your hips.

“Why? Do you want me to stop?” you threatened, smiling provocatively. A mistake from your side, really, as the words snapped something inside the man.

“As if,” his voice beamed with unstoppable, reaching unsettling, determination.

Before you knew it, you were trapped underneath him on your belly, not given time to assimilate, as he set his own path of cruelty.

DILUC—hand holding

 As boring as it might sound, Diluc was extremely relieved about the fact you were fine with a more intimate treatment in bed triumphant over something much rougher. Of course, there were moments where he tended to lose himself in the feeling and almost in control, so scary to a man not used of being open and ridden of inhibitions; yet still, he saw anything else above just fast paced as a tool to hurt you — no matter how much you could claim you’re enjoying it. He’s hurt enough enemies, forced to fight bad men (especially Fatui), so being spared of transferring some of the battle elements into bed helped him sleep at night.

Diluc couldn’t pinpoint any more specific things he liked participating in during sex, other than learning how to please you and enjoying pleasing you — however, he’d grown to be a big fan of holding your hand. The best case scenario, when he begins to enter you, in the safety of your shared bedroom where no harm or Mondstadtian gossip could reach you.

Today was no different. He’s been smearing your pussy with your own wetness, stirring it with a tip of his cock he dragged along your slit. He was a coward, really, knowing how unstable he’ll be once he’s inside.

His hands gripped yours tightly, and you had to beg him to start, all delirious already. “Diluc, please… I can’t wait any longer!”

He cursed under his breath at your plea, knowing the effect it had on him but also of how he could never deny you of anything — you were spoiled being with him, as you should be.

“Yes… yes, I’ll give you what you want,” he uttered out with an eager promise, and slowly slid his hard cock inside of you.

You both grunted when he then filled you to the hilt and began peaceful thrusts, quickly having to find a hiding in the crook of your neck so you shouldn’t see his vulnerable and heated expression.

You, however, couldn’t have it. You needed to observe his face, to know he feels good too, furthermore to connect on another level of intimacy than just fucking a hole could bring. With your hands still beautifully wrapped in his, you gently prodded him upwards. “Please, don’t hide yourself from me, Diluc,” you muttered almost shyly, scared of startling him.

He, feebly, finally gave you this pleasure and kept his head above yours, looking into the eyes with his own ones’ trembling glitter. He was indeed blushing, yet you had absolutely no negative feeling about this other than love.

Both staring at each other as he slowly sped up, he had to stare an opinion burning in his mind, one he’d protect from any criticism, “You are so beautiful,” he moaned out, and in return, you wrapped his legs around his hips, forcing him to dive in deeper inside your pussy. Diluc gasped, and he had to lean down to kiss you with voracious hunger when that familiar squeeze coming with your pleasure arose.

The hands of you were soon brought to his chest, as he at last let himself loose in you. The change in a position was swift, with a use of his trained body, as he manhandled you on top of him. You had to press your palms steadily against him as he moved your body to be riding him. Your breath hitched when you sensed a new energy in your play.

“I’m sorry, darling…” he groaned, straight from his throat at the way you were even tighter in this position and could take more of his lengthy, “… but I have to see you. I know I shouldn’t be inappropriate like this, but—”

“No!” you protested at him trying to apologize, even more when you felt so damn good and wanted to please him mutually. “I want this. Please, have me any way you want,” you practically begged to have him rougher with you, too excited at the prospect of seeing Diluc with no inhibitions or restrictions, at his rawest version where you can see how he truly feels about you, and so you could see the man you love.

The words could be enough to kill the man as he almost cried out at your affirmation, and given no arguments to feed his guilt, his hands gripped the bridge between your ass and hips — before the exhilarating game of him bouncing you up and down, so deep and fast to accentuate his attraction for you with a scary ease, has started.

AYATO—somnophilia

The duty called, and it called, and it called both of you; but Ayato always tried to take more burden onto his shoulders, simultaneously wishing to maintain the balance between this and finding a time window for you to be included.

Of course, it was often wishful thinking, which didn’t mean there wasn’t a way for you two to swiftly deal with lack of shared moments… having an arrangement, where Ayato is free to have sex with you when you’re asleep — however, not as in “he’s using you way”, for him to take every moment he wishes. It was about you yearning for contact and connection, and if sometimes, he couldn’t be there for you when you’re awake, he’ll be there for you when he can but you’re already asleep.

As suspected, his actions weren’t entirely selfless, if oftentimes he returned to your shared chambers all pent up — still, he managed to be fair and make it even with you if you get what you want and his slow thrusts were capable of gently lulling you into a deeper phase of sleep.

There was an element of excitement too, the risk and tiny of adrenaline when he had to be quiet and controlled in his movement, as he mustn’t wake you up.

The vulnerability you were wrapped in, so content in your dreamland made you plenty of gorgeous to Ayato who was standing over your sleeping form; as he undressed. Yet he couldn’t deny the physical pull too, when what you were wearing was a skimpy, thin yukata placed on your body for an easy access — to make it worse, two halves slipping onto your sides and exposing your legs and breasts almost entirely.

Truly, he’ll have to figure out a way to gather a whole free day, just so he can travel you somewhere where you both can fuck and cuddle all day.

For now, your sleeping grace will do. Stripped to nothing so he cannot deny himself that skin to skin haven, Ayato carefully laid himself down, and moved between your legs. Despite the fact your pussy was looser during your sleep where your muscles relax, and your body had been trained to be wet during moon-struck hours, he was still a lover caring enough to prep you even then — as if you were awake, so he never dares to forget about your comfort.

With reverence, his hands fondled the soft inside of the thigh, slowly skimming towards the heat of pleasure; arising goosebumps on his way. His breath shuddered as he finally allowed himself to place his lips on the velvet of your folds, slurping on what’s been gathered during his absence. You twitched, albeit, he couldn’t be any shaken if he’s had enough time to learn when you’re truly waking up and are giving in to him.

With how wet you were, he easily assumed you’ve been thinking about this all day… perhaps had even touched yourself before falling asleep, him being your last memory. He loved you more just at the thought.

His tongue darted at the twitching hole, before slipping into the depths of your sweet hole, and he closed his eyes when feeling his own body relaxing… even if he had to hump his hardness against the futon to ease that frustration before he’s sure he played with you enough. No matter how erected, he will take care of you before himself — as it proves to be applied to every basis, everyday.

Hearing your wanton whimper, he didn’t delude himself about not having any restraint, beginning the mad smacks at your pussy. A selfish part of him hoped you’d allow yourself to have your rest disturbed, just so you two can do this awake.

MORAX—breeding kink

You being a goddess of harvest and fertility was bestowed upon your geo archon husband as a greatest of blessings, and you had accumulated many successful seasons for Liyue for centuries.

However, your nature had its own unique downside — a heat, as if you were a flower yourself. Every year when the spring came, your body turned into a begging machine, needing to be fucked and bred instantly. It wasn’t even about having a child as you couldn’t have one as a goddess, but only the cruel play of the Celestia giving you a trait like this to make you an embodiment of your abilities — no matter if useless, pesky, and yet… leading to interesting results and many shared pleasures with Morax.

Before meeting him, you strayed away from bedding any of male gods or deities, finding them incapable of feeding your insatiable desires — it was when you first saw him, just with one glance you knew he’d be a man to fulfill you well. Perhaps, too well.

You ended up in this position every year, only for it to be intense each time — just like now. The zeniths of your heat came and go randomly, so when you two were having a small tea outing in secluded bamboo forest, there was no way you could make it back to his domain. Morax, a dutiful husband, tended to you right here.

Your face planted into the grass, barely spared from the dirt with your robes thankfully riding up under it to cushion your cheek, as he mounted you — your hips were up in the air and supported by shaky limbs, as he tug your body back and forth onto not one, but two hard and thick cocks. You were so full, stretched beyond what a human body could handle if you were to be one, that the amount of cum your husband has inflated into you has been spilling into a wet pool under you every few seconds.

“Morax… ! So big… I need more… !” was really the only thing you could say repeatedly, not capable of forming any more coherent speech — no matter how improper for a goddess, and a wife of this land’s archon. A man capable of causing destruction in protection of his nation, now was causing a destruction only desirable by you.

Every pronunciation of his name, Morax rewarded you with harder thrusts enforcing additional space inside of your walls — that causing the ground to shake, literally. “I know, you are really inexorable thing before the spring… inconsolable, unrestrained… desperate. Which is why you’re blessed to have a husband like me…”

His hands grabbed you under your breast and forced you upright, so now he was fucking you off of his lap. A speed so inhumane, a human would have ended up with an extent damage already — none of them could ever be granted such great pleasures due to that reason, when only an immortal body like yours protected itself with unnatural agility and regeneration.

“Yes… yes… only you… only yours…” you exclaimed with a cock-drunk enthusiasm, throwing your head to be back at his shoulder. It tilted back, you could see a great satisfaction on his handsome face at your admission when he looked down at you — he was a possessive lover. Not much about ownership or objectification but protecting what’s his. The striking golden eyes, they feasted off of your unholy expressions.

“Yes, only mine, my wife that she is,” he mused, sounding happy, while also being fond of you — no matter how you screamed debauchery, there would be no greater sight than you, meticulously written for the words about the love between you two being preached for centuries. Morax will also make sure none of them are fraudulent.

His eyes, darkening, darted at the belly bulge created by his two cocks with their sizes, constantly becoming more and less apparent with his thrusts. Breeding you, it was an inherent interest for Morax and his nature, and he’s decided you could take some more of his seed.

PANTALONE—free use

Time was money, a golden rule Pantalone adhered to — outside of “equal exchange” principle. However, his lover stood close to what he considered as valuable, therefore so was his time with her. Time, spent in various of ways, yet with always a keypoint — sex. Pantalone liked sex, at least you have managed to make him like it, and he desired it constantly. But being busy and money never sleeping, you two had to figure out how to tackle a problem of not finding any space in a day to be intimate.

That’s why, he created a new rule in his life, in which you’re allowed to initiate sex with him any minute he’s busy with work, as long as he’s not out being busy in a field — if he’s occupied with some documents, you were free to slip into his lap and grab what you wanted.

The first proposal, you were feeling hesitant about the idea, taking it as using him or even being put in a situation where your affections are not being reciprocated as he’s busy doing something else. To which Pantalone simply responded, “It’s not actually using me if I’m enjoying this too.”

So here you were in one of the banks he oversaw again, nth time this week in his office. He greeted you with a small smile, already knowing the reason for your arrival just by your bodily appearance, before returning to work as if you weren’t here.

Standing behind his chair, you were kind enough to ease him into what you’re initiating, by the kiss of his nape and hand rubs his palliative to the stressed shoulders. Your husband shuddered, still choosing to continue working diligently. He’s mastered how to keep himself focused on his matters when you’re using him; which didn’t mean he was immune to his own desires — he truly wished he could just bend you over the desk.

The grip on his pen tightened, leaving a blotch of ink on paper as a result, because you gently palmed him over his pants. Adjusting his glasses now becoming steamy, he put the paper aside and reached for a new one.

“Sorry,” you said, quietly to not stir him out of his concentration too hard. With trembling hands, you unzipped his pants, before removing your wool winter tights along with shoes, merely flicking your skirt up. When it came to you, you already were wet, having played with yourself in the sleigh carriage to speed up the process.

You sat down on Pantalone’s lap, and slowly lowered yourself down on his now ready cock; grabbing onto the edge of the desk you were facing, as it was almost unmanageable to stay quiet.

Pantalone was no better in reaction when his writing has halted and his legs tensed under you. It took a few long seconds for him to choose to resume his actions.

But the more you rode yourself on his cock, your hot and tight hole squeezing and demanding more, accompanied by the grunts of your pleasure prevalent on his ears… Pantalone didn’t realize when he managed to grab onto your hips to help you, a work momentarily forgotten.

“I’m sure I can make this disruption worth the money I could make in an hour, don’t you think?” he whispered into your neck, biting on it gently, and when you nodded in agreement enormous in enthusiasm, he was finally helping you with an exquisite sounding chuckle of approval.

[twstedfreak]

You've Ghost To Be Kidding

Synopsis: in which you move into a haunted house and are seduced by ghost!sukuna Warning: 18+, porn with little plot, cursing, dubcon?, kinda horror but not scary at all, lots of cunnilingus, fingering, groping and molesting, nipple play, tentacles, full nelson, improper use of a broom, exhibitionism, voyeurism, foot play, blowjob, masturbation, a little somnophilia, monster-fúcking, kinda threesome? ig, classic dumb girl in horror movie with no survival instincts, not proofread Word Count: 2.7k

There’s a ghost in your home. 

You’ve just moved in last week and already you can tell there’s someone else here with you. Things move on their own even though you don’t see them move. You place a book down on a table and you’ll come back to it on the floor. Lights turn on and off on their own. Sometimes they even flicker incessantly for an hour or two, or until you get fed up and leave the room. At night, you hear scratching against the door, things literally going bump and thump, followed by heavy footsteps.

They’re all petty stuff, which is why you can stomach the irritation considering the rent is dirt-cheap. At most, you'll simply roll your eyes whenever the ghost acts up which apparently pisses it off more.

What’s been bothering you most, however, is the fact that the ghost is apparently very fucking horny. 

He — and yes, you know it’s a he because only a man could be so annoying and pathetic — gropes you randomly during the day. You’ll be washing up some dishes, minding your own business as one does, when suddenly, you’ll feel big, cold hands on your hips groping the flesh there. Worse, you can even feel a nose skim the length of your neck, inhaling your scent, and the ghost’ll blow air at your skin as if he’d exhaled in deep satisfaction.

Even when you're just watching TV, sat on the sofa, you'll feel a ghoulish grasp on your ankles, pulling your legs until your feet are held in the air. Something cold, long and hard presses itself against the pads of your feet, rubbing along. Popping popcorn in your mouth, you yawn as the sofa creaks, cold liquid beginning to coat your toes. You don't know for sure what he's doing but you have an idea.

Showering is also another story. Bare and wet, you massage shampoo into your scalp, humming to a song on your phone when it begins to glitch, making record scratching sounds. Your Lizzo song is replaced with heavy breathing and mumblings that oddly resemble the word, 'mine,' on repeat. Big, foreboding hands creep into the tresses of your hair, covering your own. They push and pull, applying pressure around your scalp, really working in your shampoo. With a sigh, you let him do the work for you.

After all, your arms were getting tired. So it seems like a fair exchange for him to grind that, by now, familiar length in between the globes of your ass, nudging you against the wall, threatening to drown you under the barrage of water.

Truthfully, you once considered hiring an exorcist or a priest or something. But once he stopped being so hostile against you and you found a freakish routine with him, the idea flew out the window. Who else would know to open a cabinet with all the bowls for you right after you've picked up the milk from the fridge, so you can eat cereal?

This ghost has been pretty helpful in finding your lost items too. Whether they be your phone, keys, socks, the remote etc. Though, you suspect sometimes he hides those things on purpose so that you'll acknowledge his presence with a, 'Hey dead guy, know where my shit is?'

Sure, your pool of panties is depleting with his clear hatred of them, ripping them up and tossing them in the trash for you to find later, and you can't really invite anyone home since they wouldn't understand. But you can put up with his wandering hands and constant hard-ons if it means you have a nice, pretty house to live in.

Even if everything you do seems to turn him on. Whether that's singing along to a song (a body will press itself behind you, swaying you to the beat and grinding something hard against your back), brushing the floor (the broomstick will find it's way between your legs, the length slotting itself right in between your pussy lips as it shuffles back and forth, eliciting moans after moans from you, covering the wood with slick), or cooking a meal (the sauce you're heating up will wind up on your chest, cool and trickling down the valley your breasts, just about to disappear beneath your low v-neck shirt before something wet and slithering wipes it away, leaving goosebumps in its wake).

And God, apparently dental hygiene turns the damn thing on too. Brushing your teeth, in the morning or night, always involves your breasts being groped. Seriously. Breasts. Groped. 

You feel those same cold hands first cup your tits over the shirt, just feeling the heaviness, weighing them in his palms before you feel fingers flicking your nipples. The friction is repulsive. Really. It makes you roll your eyes. In annoyance, of course. 

“F-fuck off!”

Then, when you’re clutching the sink, he slides his hands under your shirt, nails scratching your skin before you feel its chilling grip on your breasts. That’s when he really gets to work — he doesn’t go gently, no, he’s tugging at your nipples, pinching and rolling them between his fingertips as if to torture you. So outraged, you’re left gasping for air, unable to string along words to express how disgusting his touch felt. 

“Don’t even ask me h-how I know you’re smirking. Dick.”

In response, all the bottles on the bathtub fall to a clatter on the porcelain.  

You can’t even masturbate in peace because though the door's closed you know he knows what you’re doing. That door will open, slowly creaking, and a gust of wind will blow over you, announcing his presence. There, under the covers, your fingers are working overtime, rubbing furiously at your clit as you stare at that open door. 

“Seriously? You won’t even let me have this?”

Pussy tingling, you writhe on the bed, spurned on by the knowledge that eyes are watching your face. Deadly quiet, the sloshing sound between your legs echo in the room, mocking and scathing.

When your hand cramps up, you reach over to your bedside table for your vibrator. Pressing the cold silicone to your steamy pussy, you get a moment of reprieve before the battery somehow runs out. 

“Oh my God, you did not. Ugh, you are such a dick. You died and now you gotta make me miserable?” You throw the damn thing to the corner of the room in frustration. 

Just as you’re about to give up, the cover is pulled away and you’re bared to the world. Your legs are spread by an invisible force before something warm touches your lips, tasting your abundant juices before it laps all of you up eagerly. “Oh fuck! A-are you eating me out?”

He’s annoyingly skilled at this. The tip of his tongue rubs tight circles around your throbbing clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your toes curl. Squelches resound in the room, getting louder when you feel, what can only be, fingers thrust into you with no warning. 

“Oh, God! Yes, right there, yesss.” He’s found your G-spot and he’s going to town on it, angling his fingers just right. 

Another hand pushes down on your lower stomach at the exact same time his lips wrap around your clit and suuuuuuuuuuuuck. You’re thrashing on the bed, pinned down by that invisible force like all your limbs suddenly weigh a ton. The noises he’s making and pulling out of you are obscene and anyone who hears would think another ghost is being added to the house. 

“Since your tongue’s going -ngh!- inside me, s-shouldn’t you tell me your name?”

The light flicks on and on the mirror across the room, your lipstick is writing the letters S U K U N A on it. 

“Sukuna, huh? Well, Sukuna. Since the afterlife is clearly lacking any kind of fun, make yourself useful and give me an orgasm.”

And so he does. 

He does every time after that actually. 

Sitting in your armchair, reading a book, legs spread and panties dangling from an ankle, he eats you out for hours. Good thing about ghosts is that they have nothing else to do, so you bet your cheap ass that he won’t be getting tired any time soon. 

In fact, he loves to eat you out. When you’re washing the dishes, he’ll be eating you out from behind, suckling on your wetness like it could bring him back to life. Hanging up the laundry in the garden will leave a man-sized lump under your dress as you desperately muffle your moans with a bedsheet, embarrassed that a neighbour might see. He wakes you up by eating you out, he sees you off to your job with a fingering and then a cleaning up of the mess with his tongue, and he welcomes you back home with an orgasm, body slumped against the front door, held up like a puppet as he tongues your insides, nipples teased by tendrils of something beyond the reach of your humanly sight.

That becomes your new routine. It seems this Sukuna has grown bolder, fearless and uncaring of what's convenient for you.

One night, however, as you’re spreading your legs naturally, you don’t feel the usual pressure there. Instead, you feel something wet, hard and salty at your lips. Devious bastard. 

Opening your mouth, you let him inch his length into your throat with surprising care. Full and stretched to your limits, you gag around his invisible cock, forced to accept the entirety of the thing entering and retreating over and over again. His balls smack against your chin as he increases his pace, growing more ruthless with the way he’s shoving his fat cock inside your mouth. 

You’re being used like a glory hole and he doesn’t seem like a minute man. Despite never having been the kind of girl who enjoyed giving blowjobs, you find this one surprisingly stimulating — it presses against a sensitive spot at the back of your throat, a sweet scent of death filling your nostrils as you gag around something firm and unyielding.

Over your shirt, you feel nails scratch against your nipples, flicking them the way that leaves your thighs squeezed shut, searching for friction where you're most sensitive.

Then, your vibrator miraculously comes back to life, buzzing with vigour right against your pussy. Squelches are joining the sounds of your gagging and you didn’t even know you were so wet already. It’s on the highest setting, driving you to overstimulation immediately and with cement for bones, you can’t move away from the onslaught of vibrations against your dripping cunt. 

Gagging even more, tears well up when you cum, squirting all over your bed just as he squirts cold, salty cum down your throat. 

You fall asleep thoroughly drenched. 

The next day, all the cabinets and doors are banging open and shut repeatedly. He’s throwing a tantrum. Great. He heard your phone call in the morning.

“Get over it, freak! I can’t keep relying on you for orgasms. So don’t get in the way of me and this guy,” you scream in your bedroom. You’re aware you look crazy but you don’t care. Enough is enough. 

The mirror shatters in front of you. 

“Yes, I will let him in. You can’t do anything about it. Just go to the light or something.”

A stuffed toy hits you on the head. 

“Oh my God! You did not. Ugh, whatever, watch me get fucked then, I don’t care. But keep your hands to yourself.”

Your guest doesn’t make it three minutes before he’s being scared shitless by the banging of cabinets, the opening and closing of drawers, the shaking of tables and shattering of glass cups. He’s running to the door before you grab him by his hand desperately. You almost convince him to move your two-person party to his house when a knife flies through the air and lands right in between you two, embedding itself into the wall. 

That’s the last straw. 

Just as he wanted, you’re left alone with the happy malevolent spirit. How do you know he’s happy?

Well, because suddenly the house is righting itself — cabinets and drawers are now closed, there’s no more shaking, glass shards are picking themselves back up, repairing all your broken cups. “Pretty pleased with yourself now, aren’t you? You are such a child, I can’t stand you.”

Not to mention, your dress is being lifted up and your panties ripped apart. 

He shoves his face in between your legs once more, tonguing your clit and massaging your pussy walls with his long fingers. This is his way of apologising, you guess, and whatever, you just have to accept your fate. Long tendrils wrap around your arms, lifting them up so you can grip something. Those very same vine-like phantoms tease at your nipples too, squeezing and pulling like his fingers would. Then you feel them seem to open up like little mouths before they suck on your nipples. Hard. There, standing in the crime scene, you cum. Heaving and lightened, you think it’d end there. 

It seems seeing that other man really pushed him because then you’re being spun around and shoved to the hardwood floor, dress folded over your back and drooling pussy exposed to the air. Something hard rubs against your most intimate area, coating itself in your wetness before it shoves itself, in one go, inside your pussy. 

“Fuck! G-go slow! Oh. My. God. Su. Ku. Na!”

His rhythm is monstrous. You’re practically screaming as he pummels your pussy with no consideration for the fact that your knees are being bruised and that your face is smushed against the dirty floor. 

Your gooey walls are being forced to stretch, lips all swollen and weeping. He’s planted so deep you can feel him in your throat, and then an arm is wrapping around your neck — he’s got you in a headlock, wrangling you back into a painful arch. From this angle, he goes in deeper. 

Another long, hard thing pushes inside your mouth and you don't know how any of this works but you swallow it down, allowing him to plug you up from both ends. They work in tandem, stretching your holes with a brutal pace.

The cock in your mouth cums first and you know, somehow, it's because he just wanted to coat your face in his ghoulish cum. Drenched, you can do nothing but take his intense pummelling with gratitude.

"Full! I feel so — yesss, right there — full."

There’s a noticeable bump on your lower stomach, years of pent up energy as a ghost being rammed into your poor cunt. Glop glop glop he goes through your juices which overflow, soaking your thighs. “Fuck, yessss.”

Watery slurps are emanating from your pussy where you’re gaping around nothing to the human eye. Sukuna gyrates his hips, heavy balls teasing your clit from the delicious angle, cock throbbing inside. 

“I’m c-close! More. I want more. Fuck me faster!”

And does he ever. 

Garbling out gibberish, you’re practically choking on your own saliva as he suffocates you with his arm.

When you cum, your vision blacks out and you fall limp, thoroughly exhausted and almost dead. But even then, he still continues to fuck you, using your body as a fleshlight, basking in your living warmth. As if your soul has separated from your body, you're aware of the thorough fucking your poor body is receiving, splashes of cum flooding the floor. Even unconscious, orgasms are being snatched from you.

Later, when you wake up, you’re in bed, tucked in with a ghostly tongue lapping up your mixed cum.

Pushing the cover off, you’re shocked to find a face and a body, firm and warm to the touch. He’s got pink hair, a muscular body and tattoos. There's nothing ghostly about the man between your legs. You can feel the blood coursing through his veins, can see the sharpness of his teeth as he flashes his pearly whites in threat, and the fingers that dig into the plush of your thighs are bruising.

Regretting not getting a priest involved after all, you gasp when you hear his voice, clear and loud, deep and powerful.

He says,

“You sleep like the dead.” 

[twstedfreak]

true love waits

eight | gojo's ghost hunting guide

seeing spectres? got a ghost problem? it seems Satoru Gojo has one of his own - one he doesn't want to get rid of

synopsis: full-time nerd turned part-time amateur ghost hunter, you've become Gojo's favorite occupation! living with a roommate is hard enough - let alone falling in love with your (un?)dead one!

pairing: nerdjo x ghost!Reader

content: mdni, angst and fluff, death, rebirth/reincarnation, happy ending, pining and yearning, gojo is LOYAL, doomed lovers and second chances, kissing, drinking, idiots in love

art by @chu-cho + divider by @petalpxl

Four years.

Not quite 1500 days.

He finished graduate school. Traded his day job of interning at a research labs for something with steadier hours. Came home from work by six every night to kiss you at the door. Ignored his relatives asking when he'd buy a house or find somewhere bigger.

What was that saying? Home was where the heart was? Well, his was with you.

It didn't matter how much money he was offered to move or transfer to a new city. He couldn't imagine walking in without you there waiting for him.

It wasn't like he was making the only sacrifice.

You could've moved on too.

Found peace in the afterlife, on my whatever plane was waiting for you. But you refused to leave him either.

Even when he found the first few wrinkles, laugh lines starting to etch in his skin already, frowning and poking at them in the mirror while you giggled on the counter.

"I'm not even thirty," Gojo murmured, groaning as he pulled out his phone to order moisturizer.

"Not that far from it," You laughed, dragging your thumb over the side of his mouth. "At least you can age."

You couldn't.

In fifteen years, he'd already be in his forties while you'd never make it past twenty-five.

He hated thinking about it. Despised the disgusting way it made him feel and the fact he was far too attached to ever let you go either.

"Will you still love me if I go gray?" He pouted, pulling you in by your hips, your thighs automatically wrapping around his waist while he started peppering your face with kisses to make himself feel better.

"You're close enough," You giggled again, reaching up to ruffle his white hair before he cut you off with a proper kiss. Your lips were still sweet, parting for him already, a present in itself.

Four years of small moments - and it still wasn't nearly enough.

Gojo didn't even see the car that hit him.

It was kind of like what you said. Crossing the street, glancing one way, and the next he was on the pavement, his brain barely processing the sound of metal crunching and glass shattering. It didn't even hurt that much - a dull pain he couldn't place.

But he knew what was happening.

Aware of what would come next.

His last thought was of you though, smiling to himself at the idea you'd finally be able to move on. That he wouldn't be tethering you here anymore. Geto would tell you what happened - would make sure you made it where you needed to go.

And hopefully, wherever that was, you'd be together.

He guessed he didn't end up making it to thirty after all.

The sun was warm on his skin, thick summer heat drifting through his window. There weren't any clouds in the sky, but it still felt oppressive, hanging down over his head while he yawned and forced himself to get out of bed.

He'd been having the same dream for the past year. The same girl. A pretty smile and a prettier laugh. One that looked at him like he hung the stars, with soft lips that kissed him like he was one. So why the fuck did he wake up feeling so gutted?

Like he was grieving someone he never met?

He'd never been much of an artist, but he'd picked up a pen more than a few times in pathetic attempts to sketch her. Never quite capturing the details so vivid in his head. The shape of the mouth was always a little off, the eyes never even enough, the hair the wrong shade.

And it was stupid, instead of focusing on his physics lecture or paying attention to his engineering homework, he ended up doodling in his notebook most of the time, only looking forward to a night art class he'd started taking solely to learn how to draw.

The day always drudged by, just waiting for dusk to fall to find his way into one of the older buildings on campus with a bag slung over his shoulder, notebooks and pens jostling around inside, loose sheets of paper getting crumpled by the time he made it into the dusty old room that doubled as a ceramics class during the day, long tables and stools already set out and ready.

No one else was there yet.

It was the only thing in his life he was ever early for.

He got set up in the second row from the front, dumping out his stuff before rearranging everything how he liked it when the door creaked open.

Gojo didn't glance over at first. Too focused on fixing his pencils to look up until he heard a soft murmur.

"Oh, hi."

It felt like he'd been electrocuted.

Maybe he'd never met you. But he knew you. Knew your voice.

He was stuck slow motion. Head refusing to move faster, turning towards you just to freeze the second he found your face.

You were already staring at him.

Mouth hanging open just slightly, hair mused and eyes wide, lip gloss catching the light as you let out a little gasp. He didn't know how much he's been craving hearing that would until he was immediately replaying it in his head.

"Hey," He choked out, his voice strangled in his throat.

Somehow, you were even prettier in person.

"I haven't seen you here before," He awkwardly added, nervously fidgeting with his pen before dropping it. Pushing up his glasses next, fixing his hair and hoping you didn't notice how anxious he looked.

"I'm, um, modelling for the class," You gestured to the empty spot in the front, watching him like a deer in headlights before dragging your eyes away. "Do you know where I can put my stuff?"

He wasn't sure how he managed to reply, mumbling something almost incoherent as he pointed over at a desk towards the front, his brain too jumbled on how you were actually real and more than a dream, about to jump to the conclusion he must have just seen you around school and his subconscious must really like your face before you spoke up again.

"This is going to sound like, crazy," You started, chewing on your bottom lip equally nervous. "But I literally just had a dream about you. Have we met before?"

He gaped at you, hurrying to rummage through his bag to conjure up one of the fifty drawings he had if you, stuttering something along the lines of me too before shoving it forward.

You approached him a little reluctantly, constantly searching his eyes for something just to immediately look away the second he caught your stare. But you seemed to relax once you saw the sketch, a small laugh escaping at the chicken scratch on the page.

"Is that supposed to be me?" You giggled.

Before he could embarrass himself more with another reply, more students started filtering in, along with the instructor who was quick to call you over. You dropped the paper back on his desk and smiled at him, and he was pretty sure the world stopped spinning.

It was torture to watch you strip down in front of ten other people - even for artistic purposes.

To trace the lines of your body with charcoal instead of his fingers, to study every little curve and divot and not imagine kissing them, to watch the little changes in your expression when you occasionally threw him a tiny glance.

And God, it was embarrassing that his cock was already hard in his boxers, straining against the band when he hadn't even looked at the swell of your breasts.

It was his best work yet.

You were his favorite subject after all.

He waited after class, drawing tucked inside his bag for safe keeping while you fixed your clothes. Pulling a hoodie on and touched up your hair, looking at him like you couldn't decide if he was something new or old.

"C-can I get your number?" He asked, throat dry as he wiped the sweat from his palms on his jeans.

"Sure," You blinked, a brief flash of surprise crossing your face before you shoved it down.

He ended up ripping out a new sheet of paper and passing you a pen, a tingle running down his spine at the brief second your skin was touching his. You scribbled it down, pausing before adding your name underneath it.

"What are you doing tonight?" You hesitantly asked, finger brushing against his again when you passed it back. On purpose this time.

"Whatever you want."

The two of you in a hole-in-the-wall diner, eating off each other's plates and telling stories over soda and desert, absorbed in every word that left your lips. Talking to you felt like deja vu, able to preemptively guess what faces you'd make, or when you'd laugh. Finding pieces of himself in the crinkles by your eyes and the tilt of your head.

"It really feels like I know you," You hummed, leaning across the table, your foot nudging against his shin.

"You know," Gojo started, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter. "Some studies suggest that the brain uses faces we've already seen in our dreams so it is possible we saw each other somewhere-"

You threw a french fry at him.

"Personally, I like the idea we were lovers in a past life," You interrupted.

Gojo blushed, heat rising to his cheek at the idea of that despite the fact he'd seen you naked just a couple hours ago.

"Isn't fate more fun than science? Maybe I was a princess and you were my knight," You shrugged, smiling at his clearly flustered face. "Or you were some poor, struggling artist and I was your muse?"

None of the words felt big enough to describe what you were to him. Whatever this was.

"Yeah," He breathed. "Maybe."

Dinner turned to drinks. A nightclub he'd never been to before, his hands on your hips and your wrists around his neck, dancing and laughing and murmuring dazed and drunken things he knew he wouldn't remember the next morning.

The rest of the world forgotten in favor of you. He didn't want to go home. Didn't want to have to go stare at the ceiling and dream about something that was right in front of him.

But you eventually pulled him out by his hand, groaning that you had to get up early in the morning for work and asking if he'd want to grab dinner again afterwards. He had never agreed to anything so fast, hardly paying attention when he was walking backwards so he could keep his focus fully on you.

And almost backed out into the street filled with incoming traffic.

You yanked him by his collar at the last second, and he toppled back on top of you, sending you both sprawling across the concrete, scraped up but not seriously injured.

"Be careful," You scolded him, but you didn't push him off your lap.

It might've been the adrenaline spiking, the near death experience talking, but it was like some weight had just been lifted off his shoulders, like everything he'd been searching for had finally showed up, relief washing over him in one wave.

He found you.

"I'm not going anywhere," Gojo murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your lips. Tangible. Real. The first of many more. "You're stuck with me."

a/n: well this is officially over!! our doomed lovers have their happy ending (even if gojo had to get hit by a car to get it) <3

taglist: @fati27ma @soraairo @s-guru @shokosbunny @ssetsuka @deathofacupid @kayskow @pillkits @inoluvrr @baepsays @imm0rtalbutterfly @heartcam @littlenutmaestro @mia-can-yap-too @bbatzvil @sugarcoatedsoul @designerpvssy @gravity-valley @stellasloth @dostoevskyzz @aldebrana @lashaemorow @monstersholygrail @mai-505 @itsinherited @gojosprettyprincess @mimiluvzu2 @poopooindamouf @emochosoluvr @nina-from-317 @beautiful--macabre @gris3o @petalshxwer @oneirataxiaa @onixsky @flowerpot113 @ryuvies @anyx404 @herefor-tojis-tits @takethechai @miizuzu @entr4p3 @nonamebbsblo

[twstedfreak]

true love waits

seeing spectres? got a ghost problem? it seems Satoru Gojo has one of his own - one he doesn't want to get rid of

synopsis: full-time nerd turned part-time amateur ghost hunter, you've become Gojo's favorite occupation! living with a roommate is hard enough - let alone falling in love with your (un?)dead one!

pairing: nerdjo x ghost!Reader

content: mdni, angst and fluff and smut, roommates-to-lovers but one of them is dead lol, paranormal aspects ofc, fem reader, discussions of death, some darker themes but plenty of goofy gojo to go around, idiots falling in love, petty reader, gojo being a DORK, she falls first + he falls harder, this one's gonna be freaky guys, unprotected piv sex, oral (m! receiving), more tags to be added!

art by @chu-cho + divider by @petalpxl

gojo's ghost hunting guide

one | two | three | four

five | six | seven | eight

a/n: the amazing @madamechrissy inspired this <3

taglist: @fati27ma @soraairo @s-guru @shokosbunny @ssetsuka @deathofacupid @kayskow @pillkits @inoluvrr @baepsays @imm0rtalbutterfly @heartcam @littlenutmaestro @mia-can-yap-too @bbatzvil @sugarcoatedsoul @designerpvssy @gravity-valley @stellasloth @dostoevskyzz @aldebrana @lashaemorow @monstersholygrail @mai-505 @itsinherited @gojosprettyprincess @mimiluvzu2 @poopooindamouf @emochosoluvr @nina-from-317 @beautiful--macabre @gris3o @petalshxwer @oneirataxiaa @onixsky @flowerpot113 @ryuvies @anyx404 @herefor-tojis-tits @takethechai

[twstedfreak]

say you don't

today's episode of...who the fuck did I marry? (literally)

synopsis: so you woke up next to the hottest man you've ever met. except, you've never seen him before and he swears he's your husband. and the more you talk to him, the less certain you are he's even human. what'll break first? him? or your sanity?

pairing: eldritch-esque entity!gojo x f!reader

wc: 7.3k

content: mdni, DARK CONTENT, angst, light smut, gojo is an entity masquerading as a human lol, but he's down BAD for you, basically God!Gojo has no concept of any kind of societal norms and is pathetically in love with you, technically kidnapping, gaslighting, manipulation, obsession, gojo gets everything he wants and that includes you, Geto guest starring as fellow gaslighter LMFAO, some slight body horror (occasional extra eyes and limbs), wet dreams, fingering, touching, casual affection, mentions of taking meds (that aren't actually needed), reader is convinced she's going crazy, messed-up dynamics, some codependency

a/n: this was a super special commission from @specialgradefckr that was SO fun to write!! hope you guys enjoy too <3

The man sitting across the table from you was not your husband. 

It didn’t matter what the shiny gold ring on his finger said – or the glittering diamond on your own. His mouth was moving, but nothing was coming out. Pretty pink lips parting, the bright white teeth behind them opening wider, the sharp tips of his canines catching the bright sunlight streaming through the window of an apartment you’d never been in before. 

You weren’t even sure he was human. 

Or if you were still asleep. 

“Something wrong, sweetheart?” He cocked his head to the side, but he couldn’t even get that right. You guessed it was supposed to be cute (well, it kinda was) but it was angled too far, his ear nearly touching his shoulder.

The newspaper in his hands was upside down. The coffee in front of him was half sugar. He hadn’t blinked once in the past two minutes. 

You might not have picked up on that if his eyes weren’t so blue. It wasn’t the same shade as the oceans or the sky. Nothing in nature matched what was staring straight at you. They shimmered, brilliant and burning, intensely focused on each little twitch of your face. 

Spit was pooling in the back of your throat, pulse pounding in your ear as you smoothed down the hem of a thin slip you definitely didn’t own and certainly hadn’t dressed yourself in the night before. No, you just tossed on a ratty old t-shirt before crawling into your own bed, pulled the comforter over your body and crashed. When you woke up, you were here, wherever here was, with no fucking clue how you got here. Or who he was. 

With him half on top of you, sturdy arms wrapped around you and the prettiest man thing you’d ever seen purring good morning in your ear. Kissing your cheek like you and hugging you tight like you were some stuffed toy he always slept with. 

You pinched the back of your hand under the table. Hard enough for your nail to break the skin. You weren't dreaming. 

So he was, for better or worse, real. 

“I should go,” you cleared your throat, glancing down at the almost untouched plate in front of you. Pancakes, apparently, although you’d personally never had any that were so…spongy. You poked it with a fork when he first set it down, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stomach it. 

“Is my cooking not good enough for you?” He quizzed, stark white brows scrunching together like it was a problem he had to solve. Like you were. 

“It’s just, whatever this, uh, weird roleplay thing is-” 

He blinked. 

One eye at a time. 

“What do you mean?” He frowned as you stood up, dropping the newspaper he wasn’t reading to stand too. 

You stepped back, only glancing away to mentally calculate how far away the front door was. 

“I should go back home,” you slowly reiterated. Not that you had any way to get there. You didn’t have your phone, your wallet, your keys. No clue how fucking far you were from your place. 

“This is home.” 

You shook your head slowly, left hand closing into a fist, but it just reminded you of the ring on your finger. Five carats, set in white gold and glimmering while you reflexively looked down at just another detail that didn’t add up.

“No,” you muttered. “This-”

You blinked, and you were on the couch. It was softer than yours, didn’t creak when you shifted, missing all the spots and stains that came from people actually sitting on one. It scratched something in the back of your brain, bothered you for a reason you couldn't name as you sat up and looked around to confirm your suspicion. 

“I'm worried about you,” Satoru murmured, carrying a glass of-

Wait. 

How the hell did you know what his name was? 

Was it on something you’d seen without realizing it? On his phone when you were waking up? On a diploma or piece of mail somewhere your brain had subconsciously picked up on? 

He placed the drink on the clean coffee table in front of you. There was only a small vase with a few white-and-blue flowers stuffed in it as decoration on it. No coasters in sight. And somehow, no scratches or water rings staining the light wood finish either. 

“Who are you?” You asked, hearing how hoarse you sounded. Scared. 

You didn’t want to take the water – but all you could think of was how sore your throat was, reluctantly reaching over to take a sip. 

“Your husband?” He insisted, firm and a little sarcastic, like it should be obvious. 

“I’m not married,” you scoffed, even if the weight of the ring on your finger got heavier by the second. “I don't even have a boyfriend.” 

He made a soft sound, a coo, humming like this was still normal. 

And then it clicked. 

It had to be a prank. Probably pulled by one of your asshole friends who heard you complain one too many times about how sick of being single you were – or maybe even part of a shitty show that would only get aired on an absolutely unethical network. 

“Are you an actor?” You asked, and he laughed, as if you made a joke. “It's not fucking funny. Did someone pay you? Or-”

“I'm your husband,” he echoed, like it was one of the only lines they'd given him. 

“Seriously, are there cameras somewhere?” You started to stand, but your legs felt like jelly. Not quite limp, but unsteady on your feet as you took a step forward. But you bumped into the corner of the table right as he grabbed your arm to steady you, water spilling on the carpet, the cup remaining intact and rolling under the couch.

The only stain on it. 

“Cameras, baby? Really?” He dismissed, innocence you didn’t believe in shining in those big blue eyes. 

“That’s not a no,” you pointed out, looking up and around from the furniture to the corners of the room for any blinking lights or objects out-of-place. 

But nothing stood out.

Except for the fact there wasn’t a single personal item in sight. No photos or signs. No bookshelves stuffed with albums of memories or even shoes or socks left forgotten on the floor? 

“I mean, it doesn’t even look like anyone lives here,” you kept going when he didn’t deny it, gesturing to what could be a stock photo for a bachelor pad. “I mean, you didn’t bother photoshopping a single photo of us? That’s just lazy-”

He slid a photo album across the table you were pretty fucking sure had just been empty.

You stopped, stared blankly at the clean black leather, uncracked. Shiny as he flipped it open to the first page. 

And there you were, in a white wedding dress you’d rather die than wear, one of those poufy princess ones you couldn’t believe actually existed. Your mouth fell open, mid-exhale as your fingers trembled to flip through yourself. 

If it was edited, he’d done a good goddamn job at it. 

His arm was around you, fingers flexing against your waist and a beaming smile across his mouth. No glaring issues or missing fingers to point at. But the flowers in the vase were almost identical to the bouquet in your hands in the photo.

You pulled one free from the plastic, flipping it over to find a date on the back. Almost a full year ago. 

“What is this?” You asked, but the bite in your voice was gone. 

“Our wedding pictures, pretty girl,” he answered, and his bottom lip pushed out like he felt bad for you.  

You didn’t know what was worse, the pity on his face or the pride in his voice.

Each photo was more perfect than the last. The lighting, the shadows, your makeup, his suit, all the tiny details that might give the deception away in order and as expected. Not even a stray hair in sight. 

Your family was in them. Standing in the background or barely in frame, friends laughing and drinking and toasting to a marriage that just materialized. 

“You wanna call someone and ask?” He offered, a calm expression on his face, and you couldn’t help but think he’d done this before. 

“Where’s my phone?” You felt weak, your brain getting foggier as you tried to organize and collect all the information being splayed out in front of you. 

He dug it out of his pocket, and you wanted to protest – tell him that it was weird as shit that he had it. 

You held your tongue though, trying to think of who wouldn’t go along with a prank like this and would actually come clean if they knew someone who would. 

It was kind of hard when your homescreen was him though. 

A candid too, one that looked like it’d been taken in a restaurant somewhere, across the table from him with a candle burning and casting warm shadows on his unnaturally pretty face. 

Your thumb still unlocked it though, and all your contacts were still there – even if there were also now a thousand more photos of him clogging up your storage when you scrolled through. 

It took five phone calls to convince you that something was very, very wrong.

Family members, friends, even a fucking coworker, and they all thought you were the one pranking them. Chuckling at your discomfort, asking how Satoru was, inviting you both over for dinner before your panicked pleas for them to tell you the truth twisted their amusement to concern. 

When the last one hung up on you, you couldn’t even look up.

Just stared down at the smile on your screen, the first full squeeze of fear taking hold in your heart when he said nothing either, waiting for you to look up at him. You could feel his eyes on you. Oppressive and heavy, almost as if some invisible force was pressing against you. 

“I think we should schedule another appointment with your psychiatrist,” he hummed, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, like he really just wanted what was best for you. 

Which, according to him, was an emergency session with a man you’d also never seen. 

You had a psychiatrist already – an appointment you always kept. Every three weeks, curling up on a couch and complaining about work and your friends and venting about everything that bothered you from stupid to significant. 

But he was about half a foot shorter and balding. Not another absurdly attractive guy who shouldn't know your name and still somehow did. 

You blinked at him. 

He stared back at you. 

The clock ticked – your appointment time slipping by in silence when you refused to speak at first. 

You broke first. Glanced out the window at the barren trees outside, wind blowing a brittle chill and frosting the edges of the glass. Shifting seasons. “Weird weather we’re having, huh?” 

“Is that what you’d like to talk about today?” He cooly replied, a sharp edge of sarcasm cutting through the tension.

You shrugged, not that you expected him to answer back with anything actually helpful. 

It was summer last night. The heat had choked out the ac in your apartment, your skin sticky and slick with sweat when you fell asleep, mumbling under your breath it was too fucking hot before you got under the covers

That was the first thing you’d noticed this morning. Your first clue. Eyes still closed and thinking that it was freezing – that your ac must have somehow fixed itself.  

The weather was wrong outside. The man on the other side of the door kept saying he was your fucking husband when you knew he wasn't. And the rest of the world seemed to be in agreement. 

“What brings you back so soon?” Your new psychiatrist asked, one hand firmly gripping a ballpoint pen while the other pushed a thin pair of glasses higher up his nose. How were you supposed to answer when you didn't even remember seeing him once? 

Rationality hadn't quite let you, your brain suggesting reasons you didn't fully believe. Maybe your old one quit, some family emergency or last-minute thing and this was just a replacement he'd forgotten to tell you about. 

You looked over the diplomas proudly displayed on the wall for a Suguru Geto. You made a mental note of the name, one you were sure you’d be searching and scouring the internet for later to see if any of them were real and he was actually an accredited doctor. 

God, that really did sound fucking insane. 

Genuinely suspecting the fact a (hopefully) licensed psychiatrist was just another paid asshole fucking with you? 

There was a calendar by the diploma closest to the windows, and even though the days hadn’t been marked off, it was still on the last month you remembered. You pretended not to notice, shifting your stare back to him. 

What the hell had happened in the past twelve hours? 

“I’m not crazy,” you preemptively said. It wasn't very convincing coming from someone sitting on this side of the desk though. 

“Did I say you were?” He smiled, but it was sly. He reminded you of a fox in a funny way, casual remarks coming off crafty. A hint of cruelty hiding underneath his polished, professional surface. 

“You’re staring like something’s wrong with me.” 

“What would be wrong with you?” He returned your statement with another annoying question, your scowl coming easily as you picked at your cuticles in your lap. 

“I don’t think anything is,” you argued back. Except he wasn’t arguing – he was just setting traps and waiting for you to walk into them. 

“Then why are you here today?” 

Because you fell asleep and somehow in eight hours you’d gone from your bed to living a stranger’s life? Even worse, becoming a stranger’s wife? 

“Why don’t you tell me?” You frowned, eyeing the thick folder he pulled out when you walked through the door, one he quickly closed before gesturing for you to sit. 

“Your husband started bringing you here before for, ah, memory issues for the past year,” he soberly said, like his seriousness could make up for the fact he was full of shit too. 

You almost scoffed. A year? No fucking way. 

“Memory issues?” You repeated, daring him to elaborate and dig them both in a deeper hole. 

He cleared his throat, eyes narrowing like he’d decided on a different approach since the current one wasn’t working. 

“We could start considering inpatient treatment,” he started to suggest, a flare of panic seizing your chest at the thought of a future spent in grippy socks and stuck with needles. 

“No,” you swallowed hard, shaking your head and quickly turning to where your husband was waiting on the other side. Even if you didn’t know him, couldn’t remember a fucking thing about him and didn’t have an explanation for any of it, he wouldn’t let that happen, would he? 

“How about this? I'll write you a new prescription then and schedule a follow-up in a few weeks to see how you're feeling,” Suguru smiled at you, but it was cold. 

“Sure,” you returned his fake smile. 

It wasn’t like you had another choice. How hard would it be to flush pills anyway? 

“Mind sending your husband in for a few minutes?” Your possibly-fake psychiatrist asked, and you could feel your brow twitch, threatening to betray your suspicions. You weren’t all that familiar with privacy laws, but it still felt like a breach of confidentiality. “I would like to discuss a few details of your care plan.”  

Care plan – like you were some troubled child that needed nurturing and hand holding instead of actual answers. 

Stuck sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair out in the hall while they chatted behind a closed door, unable to hear what they were talking about. Just that the man you were supposedly married to looked thrilled walking out, leaning down to kiss your cheek and promise to pick up your favorite food on the way home. 

You figured out two answers of your own about him in the car. The first being he was a really bad driver. You weren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed on the way there, but you guessed you’d been busy staring out the window trying to discern whether or not this was just a really weird vivid dream or not. But now? Paying full attention to the way his hands were positioned on the wheel, the complete and total lack of awareness he had for anyone else on the road? 

It was ridiculous. 

He rear-ended someone five minutes into it. Completely crushed the back of her bumper, about to drive away until you hissed at him to stop and give the other driver his insurance information. He cocked his head to the side like he didn’t really understand, but he got out of the car anyway – in the middle of the busy road and blocking all traffic behind him. 

The woman he hit was pissed, short hair bobbing in the wind as she started shouting at him while you attempted to hide your face in the passenger seat. 

Until your husband just grinned at her, pointing at her probably totaled car and casually chuckled. That was all it took for her to freeze, mouth hanging open, cheeks blushing when he took another step closer. 

“I think that was your fault,” he hummed, and she nodded. 

“I must’ve stopped too fast,” she said it like she hadn’t been screaming three seconds ago, her eyes glittering like he was a goddamn celebrity who was so kind to grace her with his presence and hadn’t just hit her car. 

“Yeah, you should be more careful,” Satoru cooed, all condescending and still somehow charming, clapping a hand over her shoulder and squeezing before getting back in the driver’s seat.

You stared at him, and he just looked to you for approval. 

“Do you always get what you want?” You asked, too surprised to even frown. 

“Pretty much,” he flashed a smile. What, was it just pretty privilege? 

That the world bent around him because he thought it should? 

You weren’t sure when you started to bend too.

Just that the proof (and inconsistencies) started piling up – and started burying you beneath it.  

He knew everything about you – things you never told anyone else. Not just the easy stuff like your favorite color or food, but what hole-in-the-wall restaurants you liked to order it from and what day you liked to do your laundry on. Could recite off when you were born and what you got for your fifth birthday, collected memories of yours like coins or stamps he wanted to save. 

Any way you tried to slice it, he was either the most sentimental man you ever met or a stalker. 

Maybe both. 

When you asked for the marriage certificate, he pulled it from the shelf on a bookcase in his office. When you wanted to know what college he graduated from, suddenly there was a degree hanging on the wall. If you questioned how long you’d been dating, tried to pick apart his timeline, he pulled up the messages between you from as far back as your first date. 

“You don’t trust me,” he pouted, pushing out his bottom lip too far as he tossed his phone on the couch. 

You bit your own lip. Looked at the floor so you wouldn’t have to find something wrong with his face. 

“Why me?” You asked instead. Why couldn’t he go pick some other girl to torment? Get a divorce and unbind his life from yours? 

“Would you believe me if I said it was love-at-first-sight?” 

You didn't really believe anything he said. 

Even if he always had an answer (or an excuse) at his disposal.

But other stuff stood out, getting ready for work a few mornings post your psychiatrist appointment just for him to furrow his brows and station himself by the front door to ask where you were going. 

“My job?” You huffed, slipping on your shoes. All your clothes had come with you here, half his closest stuffed full of them, your shoes set up on a nice little rack by the door. There were a few things you knew you hadn’t bought, frilly and flimsy and all in that unnatural shade of blue, but you ignored them. 

Foolishly tried to kid yourself that pretending they weren't there would make them go away. 

“You don’t work,” he casually replied. 

“I do,” you insisted, trying to push past him before he stopped you with a firm hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Sweetheart,” he tried to sound kind, but there was no mistaking the authority in it. “You quit six months ago.” 

He guided you back to the kitchen table, sat you down softly before walking over to one of his dark cabinets. Pulled out something from the top shelf and returned to you like he was every ounce the devoted husband he was pretending to be. He handed it to you, something you were sure was supposed to be a show of trust. 

The pill bottle was clear. Thick, almost translucent, white label stretching around with pretty blue pills rattling inside when you shook it. 

Simple instructions printed neatly below your name to take two a day with food. 

“I’ll make you breakfast, baby,” he promised, waiting for you to open the cap and take two. Part of you wanted to accuse him of just not being able to open the child-proofed caps. 

You slowly did, feeling ill already, although it was hard to tell if it was from the idea of eating his cooking or taking the pills. 

He waited for you to put them in your mouth, stood there while you let them sit on your tongue.

“Don’t make me check,” he chuckled, a low warning you could tell he meant.  

You swallowed. 

And still, through the side effects and brain fog they seemed to bring on, you clung to the edges of your sanity, the logic remaining. Enough that when he was distracted typing away at his laptop, you were trying to text former coworkers, your old boss, anyone that would know anything more. 

But none of the messages were ever marked delivered. And when you looked up your former place of employment, you discovered everything about them had been scrubbed online, completely wiped. Like it never even existed. 

And when you managed to slip past him four days later down the stairs and out into the parking garage, you couldn’t find your car. 

The days dragged on - no job, no distractions. Just him and the cocktail of prescription drugs to coast on. 

His work schedule wasn’t kind to you. Allowed him to ‘work’ remotely, although he barely seemed to be in his home office, usually too busy bugging you. Half the week he never even stepped foot in there at all. But they never fired him. Never seemed to pester him to finish projects or demand for more of his time. 

You, apparently, were the most difficult part of Satoru Gojo’s life.

“One kiss?” He pouted, pointing to his cheek and leaning against the wall by the office door, an easy grin on his face.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth,” you excused, itching to walk away for the few hours of peace you got a day.

“Later then,” he shrugged, still unbothered, like he had all the time in the world. 

He liked to take you shopping after work or on weekends, doll you up in dresses and treat you to overpriced restaurants where he always seemed to score free meals or desserts every time. Although, the first time, he accused a waiter of flirting with him (and eventually you) just for asking questions about what he wanted to eat, demanding to speak to a manager. Squinting and scrunching his nose up like ‘is the food to your taste?’ was the equivalent to asking what color underwear he was wearing. No one listened when you tried to apologize for him. Paid any attention to you saying it was fine. The waiter was fired and your food was comped. 

People stared when he passed by. Men asked him about his cologne and his clothes. Women told you how lucky you were to lock him down.

As if it had ever been your choice in the matter.

Sometimes, you'd slip. Forget that you should be fighting this. Instinctively reach out for his hand in crowds in public, offer him bites of your food, roll over closer to him in bed on cold mornings. And somewhere deep inside, you knew it wasn’t right, but you seeked his comfort anyway, soothed yourself with his freezing hands and warm voice like it’d make your skin stop crawling, like it’d scrape away all the paint and varnish covering up the ugliness hiding underneath your relationship. 

You always snapped back to what was left of your reality eventually. 

It was after you pulled back that it would be there, the unsettling discomfort of his stare when you turned away from him. 

It was the worst in the mornings.

Crawling out of the sheets first, leaving him with his legs tangled in the blankets. He only ever slept in his boxers, his chest bare and rising slowly. It took too long to fall, like he was faking it. Mimicking sleep like he was imitating something from a movie.

And even when his eyes were closed, long white lashes fluttering, you could still feel them watching. 

His body, however pretty, however perfect, felt more like a shell, a casing containing something too big for it. A man who’d never been told no – and knew how to make sure it was never an option for you.

Not when every day you teetered closer to crazy, swallowing pills you didn’t need, sitting next to Satoru on the couch with a strong arm slung over your shoulder, stuck in a never-ending routine of brain-numbing domesticity. 

You couldn’t even lay in bed and sleep in late. 

The sky outside his window never seemed to get lighter until you got out. Your phone was always out-of-reach – Satoru didn’t confiscate it, but you conveniently could never find it once night time rolled around. He never had watches around either – even though he seemed like the exact sort of asshole that would own a Rolex and brag about it. 

You might’ve called him out. Confessed your suspicions, made a whole fucking list of them to shout at him, scrutinize every tiny detail and demand answers. Until you started seeing the eyes and were forced to reconsider the growing possibility that you were the problem here. 

He was talking – he almost always was. Telling you some convoluted story you were pretty sure was the plot of a bad tv movie he must’ve watched while you were sleeping, one you had overheard blaring from the bedroom, the volume also perpetually stuck too loud. He never left the remote out for you to change it either. 

Your stare had been fixed on the tv anyway, nodding along bored until you caught a glimpse of it out of the edges of your vision. Right below his cheek. An extra eye, just as bright and observant as the other two. It blinked, and you turned.

But it wasn’t there anymore, and Satoru was staring at you innocently, head tilted to the side like he was pleased to have captured your attention at all.

“Everything alright, pretty girl?” He purred, reaching out to place his hand over yours. You didn’t pull away, couldn’t convince your body to move when the surprise had left you practically paralyzed.

You tried to sleep it off. 

But they kept popping up. Behind you in the mirror. When he was making breakfast. On his hands and face and even once on his back. The second you looked, the moment you tried to look directly at it, it was gone, dissolved back into normal skin like it’d never been there at all. 

And then came the ones in places they couldn’t be. 

On the walls and in the furniture. Constantly being watched whether you were alone or with him. 

You used to think you could get used to anything. 

But the paranoia never ended – and you were starting to question if maybe he’d been right this whole time. How much of this was him? And how much was in your head? 

“How have you been doing since the last visit?” Your psychiatrist asked, fixing you in the same cold stare as last time. You hadn’t wanted to come back, but Satoru insisted – and despite all your digging, you couldn’t find any proof he wasn’t who he said he was. 

“Fine,” you lied. 

You were one string away from unravelling. On a short tether ready to snap with one more eye, one more changed memory or crooked detail that didn’t match up.

“Have you remembered anything? Any flashes? Images?” He asked, like someone who had a degree probably would. 

You shook your head, the urge to claw and scratch and fight this slowly seeping out. “Um, no.” 

“Well, we can talk about something else then,” he smiled, and it still didn’t reach his eyes. He shuffled through the folder in front of him. “How about your family then? Or maybe your friends?” 

Your mouth had started to open, to dismiss the idea of talking about the one area of your life you still considered somewhat private until a name he shouldn’t have known left his lips. Until he continued to mention more information you only ever told your old psychiatrist about. 

“I think I’m done today, actually,” you muttered. You brushed down your skirt, standing up and hurrying over to the door to twist the knob just for it to bump into something on the other side. 

Satoru had been listening in. 

But he didn’t condemn you for ending your session early. Just wrapped a strong arm around your shoulders and brushed your hair out of your face before asking if you wanted to go out to eat or pick something up. 

Suguru Geto would never be able to give you the help you needed.

You didn’t think help like that even existed. What god would be able to overwrite your husband when it seemed like he was the one who made the rulebook? Who never did wrong and always got precisely what he wanted? 

In a weird way, there was an odd comfort in being with him. He didn’t make you feel crazy – even when you threatened to throw his shit out the window and cried yourself to sleep when you did toss his stuff out just for it to reappear in the same spots. He just cooed that it was okay, promised that it would be better soon, pressed faint kisses against your shoulder blades and down your skin like his touch could make the world stop spinning. 

Something was seriously wrong with him and you.  

You were both bad at pretending to be normal. 

Maybe you didn’t remember him. Maybe you hallucinated the eyes on the walls and the secrets buried in his skin. But here he was, sitting on the couch while the sun was still out watching a girl get her back blown out with a fucking notepad in his lap. 

Squinting at the screen while she got backshots in 4k Ultra-HD, her gasps and moans the soundtrack while he made unintelligible scribbles on the page. Pants on, fully clothed, not even fucking erect or hard or anything.  

If he noticed you behind him, he didn’t say it. 

“You're not jerking off,” you dryly commented, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Do you want me to?” He glanced over his shoulder, sincerely asking. 

You stared at him, lips parting as you tried to formulate what the fuck you were supposed to say to that, your own eyes shifting down to where the notepad was suddenly gone, his hand already tugging down his zipper and about to pull out his cock. 

Maybe you would've said no, but you shut up the second you saw it. And really, it was kind of fucking absurd. 

Even more than the situation itself was.

Bigger than what the guy on screen was packing, like someone copy-and-pasted what an ideal one was supposed to look like, vein throbbing and pre-cum leaking around a pretty pink swollen tip. As if it hadn't just been soft and hidden under his jeans a handful of seconds ago. 

“I'm, um, going to bed,” you awkwardly stammered, jutting your thumb down the hall. 

Sleep washed over you here. Like a hand pushing your hand under waves until you were forced to suck water into your lungs. 

But you never drowned. 

You dreamed of being somewhere vast, where the dark stretched out endlessly in each direction. Outside, you guessed?

Except there wasn't a sky. No ceiling. Just space – cold and cruel but not empty. Eyes were everywhere. Instead of being on CCTV, you were being captured from every goddamn angle by the same unblinking blue eyes that haunted your days. You used to think two was a lot. That it was all he needed to see though you. 

Here there had to be at least two hundred. 

All watching you splayed out for their viewing pleasure. Pale hands held your wrists in place, veiny arms and thick fingers tracing and groping you. Squirming against (into?) him while another set of palms spread your thighs. His touch seared. 

Burned into your soul with each pattern he painted and pressed along your skin and inside you. It wasn’t like he had a face, or like you could hear his voice. But you knew it was him all the same. 

And you didn’t resist. 

Didn’t want to. 

When dreams had blended into your waking world already, what was so wrong about letting yourself have him like this? The rest of your life was wrong anyway. You closed your eyes, rested your head back for another hand to hold it up, fingers petting your hair while another set did the work of spreading you open and stretching you out. 

It didn't feel like fingers though, not when each touch was pure energy, electricity that raced through you and back down, pressure building and cresting just to come back twice as hot with each pump of something thick and hard thrusting inside you. It curled cruelly, reached places you never could on your own, invisible and intoxicating as it dragged you close to your climax just to rinse and repeat. 

Being rearranged and remade into something that fit him better. That felt better.

Time didn't exist. It could've been five minutes or five hours. Lost in the void of him while he lost himself inside you. 

You could've lived in it. 

But your life had taken on its own dreamy shape, one that bordered on fantasy. 

The sheets were damp. Thighs soaked and slick. 

“Sleep good, sweetheart?” He prodded when you woke up to the sun shining through the window, a lazy arm slung over your side. Deceptive. You knew if you went to slip out, if you pulled away too soon, his relaxed grip would turn into a harsh squeeze, holding you against him until you whined that it was hard to breathe. 

You were about to turn around to look at him, but his fingers groped your tits and when you started to count how many there were on you, there were too many. 

In your panic, you elbowed him, pulling away before he could fully react. 

And you saw it. 

Not just a glimpse. Not a flash. 

But a full second where there was an extra arm attached. 

It was gone again by the next blink. But you'd seen it, and it felt like everything shattered again. 

“You-” You started, pointing at where it had been. 

“I what?” Satoru dared you to say it. 

“You had another arm,” you accused, voice trembling. 

“You must have missed your dose yesterday, huh, beautiful?" He crooned, still smiling at you like it was okay you just implied he was a fucking shape shifter or alien or some fucking creature charading around as your husband. 

He'd pull documents out of thin air the same way he made an entire limb disappear. Convinced people to give him whatever he wanted for free with just a wink or a purr. 

How easy would it be for him to do the same to you? 

“I'm not crazy,” you said it again, but you weren't so confident. 

Because whether it was real or not, pieces of him, thoughts and images and daydreams, had all started to seep through into your heart. Consideration or codependency, although maybe that was just you coping. Telling yourself that it wasn't some fucked-up form of lust or love. 

There was too much you couldn’t reconcile from reality and the world he was trying to convince you of. 

Something had to snap - and it was you. 

And still, he tried to act like everything was normal, tried to hold your hand in the waiting room and took you to the conveniently-available doctor. 

Suguru Geto tapped his pen against his desk. 

And you tapped your nails against your leg. 

“I think my husband isn't human,” you admitted. Said the big bad words that had been bouncing around in your head out loud. “I don't really know what he is, but-”

“You do realize how ridiculous that sounds, right?” Suguru dismissed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. 

“I know,” you nodded. 

You'd come up with a list of theories on the car ride here while Satoru promised to prove how much he cared about you. An alien disguised as a human? Some freak stalking you? That one didn't explain the arms or the eyes. The dream you guessed could've been all you, spurred on from seeing his cock. 

“One moment,” Suguru held up his finger, and you figured this was it. He'd call the psych ward and you'd have white walls to look forward to instead of the cool blue of Satoru’s bedroom. 

He stood up, walked towards the door where Satoru was waiting outside. Offered you another professional smile before stepping out. 

Your file was left on his desk. 

It took you two seconds to snag it, flipping through it, half-expecting it to be normal. To be another piece that you'd be left wondering if it was fabricated. But no, most of them were in familiar handwriting, notes taken by your previous psychiatrist, signed and dated precisely how you remembered. 

Suguru was a fraud – and your husband, whoever (or whatever) he was, was too. 

His office was unfortunately on the third floor, too far from the ground for you to make an escape through the window. So, you did the next stupid thing you thought of, pressed your ear against the door like you'd hear anything that would fix the anxiety churning in your stomach. 

Your brain was trying to block out the information you found, to hit erase and rewind the clock on today. You felt fuzzy, thoughts slipping away before you could fully hold onto them. 

“You really fucked this up,” your pretend psychiatrist grunted, irritated as you tried to blink away the fog, to drag your mind out of the haze and back to clarity. “I told you this would happen. Just scrub her memories and then add your own.” 

“I want her to like me for me,” Satoru whined, and the next blink made the world around you sway. 

“You're an idiot,” Suguru scoffed at him. 

“Am not,” he argued back. “I'm intelligent, attractive, attentive, shouldn't that be good enough?”

“Not when she doesn't know you,” Suguru retorted. 

You felt like you were going to pass out.

“Well, you said she started to figure it out so-” 

You didn't mean to make a sound, but your knees threatened to buckle, and you had to lean against the door to stop yourself from falling. They immediately stopped talking. The doorknob jiggled, and then opened, Satoru catching you before you could collapse.

“There's my smart girl.” He poked your nose, one long finger pressing softly against the cartilage as he chuckled. Like an owner playing with its pet. 

A kid testing the limits of his toy would probably be closer. More accurate.

A vein throbbed across Suguru’s forehead, annoyed at how this was playing out. You guessed he was like him too. Something that was out of your understanding, too much for you to fully conceive, under the cover of human faces and fucking around with someone like you because they could. 

“What are you?” You bluntly asked, unable to pretend to not know. To act like you hadn't been listening. 

“Your husband.” 

You wondered what he'd do if you asked for a divorce. Although, here, in his arms, with him looking at you like he loved you, like in spite of everything else that was real, you didn't want one. 

What vows had he sworn? 

For better or worse? In sickness and health? Human or not? 

“Fix this.” Suguru didn't ask. Demanded. 

Satoru frowned, but there weren't any frown lines. Barely even a crease between his brows either. An emotion he hadn't mastered well in this body of his. 

“I could just reset her,” he grumbled, unhappy at the prospect. 

You barely had any strength left – but you scraped together enough to shake your head. You didn’t want to be fucking reset. 

“No,” you hoarsely said. “Don't.”

Satoru’s face immediately brightened, grinning and pulling you closer, squeezing too tight again, until you hit his chest twice to get him to stop. 

“Sorry, Suguru,” he shrugged. “I do what my wife wants.” 

You fiddled with your ring in the car on the way home. For the first time, it felt like yours. Or maybe, you'd just accepted it as part of you. Let go of the pieces of you that didn't fit anymore. Shed those parts of your skin like he stepped into this one. 

“What do you want?” You asked as he ran a red light. 

“You,” he easily answered. 

“You could've asked me on, like, a date,” you grumbled, resting your head against the window. 

“Do you want to go on a date now?” He quizzed, cocking his head to the side at the correct angle this time. Learning, adapting to acting his role out. 

“I want to go home,” you murmured. 

The image in your head wasn't your apartment anymore. When you thought of bed, you thought of his. 

And when he parked the car (and managed to scrape the front bumper against the concrete wall), he still hurried around to open your door for you, to hold your arm to steady you. 

Took off your coat when you got back inside, got down on his knees to take your shoes off. 

“You know you can ask me for anything, right?” He hummed, and there was something unsettling at the thought he could actually conjure up anything he wanted. 

But being scared was exhausting. 

So you didn't say anything when he followed you to the bedroom. 

You stripped off your clothes, one piece at a time, methodical, precise. He stared, reverent. The lump in his throat bobbing as he took small steps forward. 

“Do you love me?” You asked, unsure. 

“You're the only thing I care about,” he reassured, fingertips settling slowly on your hips, one-by-one too. Dipping into the flesh, feeling it for himself and breathing in your air. His eyes glowed. 

Literally. 

A bright gleam that hurt to look at, burning into you with a dangerous intensity. When he spoke, his voice reverberated into your core. “Do you love me?” 

“You're all I have left.”

[twstedfreak]

man's best friend

these guys are about to have tears running down your eyes thighs!

pairing: various jjk!guys x f!reader (separate)

content: mdni, angst/fluff/smut, piv sex, creampie, breakups, makeups, pre-established relationships, toxic guys, making out, fights, jealousy, more tags to be found in each one

a/n: inspired heavily by the songs off of this album. this will be a series of drabbles of varying lengths based on each song :p no promises on when each one will come out btw just could not resist after listening to it hehe <3

manchild...starring naoya zenin

tears...starring suguru geto

my man on willpower...starring nanami kento

sugar talking...starring toji fushiguro

we almost broke up again last night...starring suguru geto

nobody's son...starring nanami kento

never getting laid...starring suguru geto

when did you get hot?...starring satoru gojo

go go juice...starring ryomen sukuna

don't worry i'll make you worry...starring satoru gojo

house tour...starring ryomen sukuna

goodbye...starring satoru gojo

[twstedfreak]

Alternate Universe

Pairings: Various Genshin Women x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: In another universe, the people who holds you near and dear to their hearts are women who secretly wish you would get the hint. Some are secretive about it, but others aren't so secretive.

Note: Did I plan on writing Genshin women x isekai'd!Reader? No. Did people (maybe like 3 people) want me to write it? Yes. This fic only has a few selected women in Genshin rather than every female character like my usual Genshin harem fic. Also, just because a character is mentioned in the fic or makes an appearance in the fic does not mean that they're a love interest. If you want to see who the actual love interests are, they're in the tags. Anyway, I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (also Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: None that I can think of

Word Count: 5.2k

You feel nauseous. Archons, so nauseous. The world is spinning around you, and despite having your eyes closed, you can still feel the room spin around you. Your head hurts, and most importantly, you have the urge to vomit. It takes you a minute to realize someone is cradling you in their arms, your head resting against their chest as they caress your face and head. The voices around you sound muffled, as if you’re underwater.

“It’s okay, [Y/N]. You’ll be okay,” says a familiar voice. 

You groan in response, trying to force yourself into consciousness. Your eyelids feel like lead; it’s almost impossible to open your eyes. 

You mutter out, “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

Slowly, the voices around you become clearer. Whoever is cradling you sure feels comfortable. Someone pats your cheek, trying to get you to wake up. You squeeze your eyes, struggling to open your eyes. 

“This is what happens when you feed [Y/N] something they can’t eat,” Ei mutters.

“Look who’s talking! At least I can cook! With all due respect, Electro Archon, but you cannot cook yourself,” Hu Tao huffs.

Before Ei or anyone can retort, you manage to open your eyes and look around the dining room, causing everyone in the vicinity to quiet down. You rub your eyes with the heel of your hand. 

Navia sighs in relief, hugging you to her chest. “Oh, you poor thing! I thought you died for a moment,” she says, resting her cheek on your head.

“I think they might’ve actually died after consuming whatever monstrosity Hu Tao cooked,” Furina quips. “Trust me when I say this: I saw their soul leave their body the minute they collapsed from their seat.”

You stare at the ceiling, questioning why you agreed to eat whatever Hu Tao cooked for you. How did it slip your mind that Hu Tao isn’t the best cook? You look at Hu Tao, who stares at you with worry. 

You jokingly say, “You almost had a new customer at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, Hu Tao.”

Hu Tao laughs, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’ll make sure to be careful next time. Just don’t tell Zhongli about what happened,” Hu Tao pleads.

Clorinde sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose while shaking her head. “There will not be a next time, Hu Tao. Leave the cooking to Escoffier and Xiangling; they are professionals, after all.”

A knock at the door grabs everyone’s attention to see Sigewinne peeking inside the room with her first aid kit in hand. Arlecchino summarizes what happened to Sigewinne while the head nurse takes note, taking in every information given to her. 

Sigewinne gestures to the couch. “Let’s get you to the couch before I begin with the checkup,” Sigewinne says, clapping her hands.

Before you can get up and walk to the couch yourself, Beidou approaches you and carries you bridal style over to the couch, startling you. Heat rushes to your face while you mutter about how you can walk to the couch yourself. 

Beidou laughs off your comment. “Sorry, sweet cheeks. Let me take care of you just this once, alright? You had me scared when you collapsed, unconscious.”

Beidou, the ever so affectionate woman, gently lays you down on the couch before lightly pinching your cheek. Sigewinne does a quick evaluation of you before treating you. That’s how your morning started—almost dying from eating what Hu Tao cooked. You plan to go out to Liyue to shop at markets, and maybe stop by Fontaine to have desserts with Furina, but after what happened, Shenhe and Yae Miko forbid you from leaving your humble abode because of the possibility of you vomiting up what you ingested earlier today. 

You plop onto the sofa, groaning. “Let me go outside! I crave vitamin D,” you writhe around on the couch. 

Lisa snickers, ruffling your hair as she walks past the couch. “No one is stopping you from going outside, cutie.”

You blink at her. “But I want to go to the market in Liyue and eat desserts in Fontaine! I promised Furina that we were going to get desserts in Fontaine today,” you pout, petting the fluffy cushion beneath you. 

Mid-Autumn Festival is fast approaching, and you want to be able to buy as many things as you can before the holiday arrives. While it’s happening two months from now, many stores in Liyue are putting out decorations for the holiday already. You want to be one of the first few people to be prepared for a huge holiday. These decorations are going to sell out before next month, and you don’t want that to happen like last time.

Lumine plops beside you, pulling you onto her lap while stroking your hair. “If you’d like, we can go to Liyue and Fontaine tomorrow! I’ll keep you company while you buy whatever it is that you need!” Lumine offers, running her fingers through your hair. 

Paimon nods. “Yeah! Plus, you won’t have to worry about spending a single dime when it’ll be Lumine who pays!” Paimon interjects, looking smug.

You shake your head, against the thought of someone else paying for you. While you appreciate the sentiment, you can’t bear the thought of someone splurging a lot of Mora on you. Plus, it’s not like you’re spending thousands of Mora on luxury items. You’re buying decorations for your humble abode and ingredients to make traditional Liyuen dishes for the Mid-Autumn Festival. 

You pat Paimon’s head, smiling at the floating girl. “I appreciate the sentiment, Paimon. But that won’t be necessary!”

Although you don’t mind having someone filthy rich spoiling the absolute hell out of you in the slightest! You just want to splurge on a lot of Liyuen decorations with the money you earned for the upcoming (technically two months from now) holiday.

“You two can accompany me to the market in Liyue! Then I’ll meet up with Furina in Fontaine for desserts!” You suggest.

Furnia pops up from behind the couch, startling both you and Paimon. “Whaaaat? But [Y/N] I thought it was just going to be the two of us!” Furina protests, propping her hands on her hips. Noticing the looks on Paimon and Lumine’s faces, Furina begins sputtering out an excuse while the apples of her cheeks turn bright red. “Not that I don’t mind having both of you accompany [Y/N] and me, but I find it a bit rude to invite additional people to plans that have been created already!”

You sit up and grab Furina’s hand, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Furina, you and I will still be having desserts in Fontaine together! Lumine and Paimon want to accompany me to the market in Liyue. I don’t think they’ll be with us in Fontaine,” you try to reassure the former Hydro Archon. 

Paimon clears her throat. “Technically, it’s Lumine who wants to accompany you to the Liyue market! I’m just her wing woman!” Paimon nods, bobbing up and down in the air while smiling at you innocently, ignoring the flustered glare Lumine shoots in her direction. 

Furina tilts her head, tapping her chin. “A wing woman? I haven’t heard such an interesting term before. What is that?” Furina asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

Before Paimon can respond, Lumine lunges forward and covers Paimon’s mouth, her face bright red. Furina stares at the duo with wide eyes, turning to look at you. You rub the back of your neck, wondering why so many embarrassing things have to happen to you in one day. 

Unfortunately, you never get the chance to go to Liyue market that day. You, in fact, did end up vomiting the food Hu Tao cooked for you. After the awkward conversation with Paimon, Lumine, and Furina, you were fighting for your life in the bathroom and were forced to retreat to your bedroom for the night earlier than expected.

The following day, you stand in front of a vendor in Liyue, debating if you should buy a pack of rice. Something in the corner of your eye catches your attention, pulling your gaze away from the rice. “Oooh, is that mooncake?” you gasp, staring at the fancy mooncake box in awe. 

The vendor smiles with pride, going on a tangent about the designs of the box and what’s the source of inspiration for such a design. The box is gold velvet, smooth to the touch, and has beautiful embellishment on the box that represents Liyuen culture. 

“I’m so tempted to buy it, but it would be too soon to buy mooncakes, would it not?” You let out a wishful sigh, gazing at the beautiful box longingly. “Perhaps I will buy it next time! I need to focus on buying decorations for my abode!” You say, beginning to walk away from the vendor.

Just as you’re walking away, you stop in your tracks when you see a familiar face among the crowd. Your eyes light up, and you wave to the Funeral Consultant as you and he lock eyes. A small smile appears as he approaches you, weaving through the crowd to get to where you’re standing. 

Now standing in front of you, Zhongli nods. “It’s good to see you, [Y/N]. I see that you’re feeling well after the fiasco yesterday,” Zhongli comments.

Your eyes widen. “Oh! How did you know?” You tuck your hair behind your ear.

Zhongli laughs. “Miss Hu Tao told me the incident at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor today. She said it’s been eating her up all day yesterday and it still is today.” Zhongli replies.

You sigh, slumping forward. This morning, before you set out on your journey to Liyue, you received fancy floral arrangements from the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor as an apology and get-well wishes from the director of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. Now, some people would take that as a threat because why would a funeral parlor send beautiful flower arrangements to their abode? Could it be a threat of some sort? A, I don’t know, see you soon type of message? But you find it incredibly sweet of Hu Tao to do that, and you’re hoping to stop by the parlor to talk to her after buying a few things from the market. 

You smile at Zhongli, guilt eating away at you. “When you see Hu Tao again, please tell her not to apologize. I’m not upset with her in the slightest, and it’s not her fault!”

Zhongli makes a face, as if saying, “You sure about that?” After all, you ate something Hu Tao made, and if you recalled correctly, Zhongli (along with Xiangling, Chongyun, and Xingqiu)‌ warned you not to eat whatever Hu Tao cooks. 

Both you and Zhongli continue to chat while walking around the market, catching up with each other before parting ways. The former Geo Archon bids you farewell before returning to the funeral parlor, leaving you at the stall that’s selling the beautiful and luxurious mooncakes you’ve been admiring.

The vendor’s eyes light up before handing you two boxes of mooncakes, informing you that the Tianquan bought two boxes of mooncakes for you after seeing you admire them. Your heart nearly drops into the pit of your stomach after hearing that. It’s not like you appreciate that Ningguang bought you two boxes of luxurious mooncakes! You didn’t know Ningguang was also present at the market until it was too late for you to thank the Tianquan. 

“I’ll have to thank her later when I see her. Hopefully, she’ll stop by the house when she’s free.” But that’s wishful thinking because Ningguang is the busiest woman in Teyvat, and who knows if you’ll run into her. When you turn to walk away, you nearly bump into the woman in question. Ningguang crosses her arms over her chest, gazing at the luxurious boxes in your hands with a pleased look.

“I see you have gotten the mooncakes you desired,” Ningguang comments.

A big smile stretches across your face. “Ningguang! Thank the Archons, you’re still here! I was hoping to see you to thank you for buying me these mooncakes. You didn’t need to buy me the mooncakes. The Mid-Autumn Festival isn’t until two months from now, and I’m sure Shen would still have them in stock by the time the holiday rolls around,” you say, smiling at the white-beige-haired woman. 

Ningguang chuckles, shaking her head. “While that is true, I need to remind you that there are limited quantities of luxurious mooncakes. Shen informed me that the ones you had your eyes on were low in stock,” she explains. 

Your eyes widen. “They are?! I wasn’t aware of that at all,” you mutter, looking over at Shen. 

“Have you eaten today?” Ningguang suddenly asks, her eyes staring into your soul. The more Ningguang continues to look at you, the more you feel flustered under her gaze. You shake your head wordlessly.

A small smile graces her face. “I see. Would you like to accompany me to the Liuli Pavilion for lunch? I heard you’re going to be having dessert with Lady Furina in Fontaine after your trip to Liyue, and wanted to have lunch with you before you set off on your journey to another nation.” 

You nearly drop the mooncakes in shock. Ningguang, the busiest woman in Teyvat, wants to have lunch with you? As far as you know, Ningguang is always at the Jade Chamber because that is her home and her place of work. 

Of course, you did not decline her offer because who in their right mind would turn down Ningguang’s offer? Certainly not you, that’s for sure! Both you and Ningguang have a private sitting area, away from the other guests in the restaurant.

While Ningguang is elegantly dining, you barely touch the food on your plate. You did take a few bites here and there, but you didn’t eat a lot, and fortunately, you and Ningguang ordered enough food for both of you. 

Ningguang dabs her lips with the cloth napkin before gazing at you curiously. “Are you not feeling well?” She asks.

“Don’t worry about me, Ningguang. I’m feeling fine, but I’m taking it easy after what happened last night.” You reply. 

You’re not entirely sure if Ningguang was present during yesterday’s fiasco. You’re glad that none of the girls witnessed your vomiting because that would be very humiliating. It’s already embarrassing when you collapse and nearly die, but you’re alive just to be able to think about that embarrassing moment over and over at 3 AM before you fall asleep. 

Lunch went well with Ningguang! Aside from your changing the conversation every time Ningguang tries to ask you about the day before today, lunch is pleasant overall, and the tea that Ningguang had ordered for both of you tastes delicious and soothing. It certainly helps with the dull tummy ache you’ve been experiencing.

When you arrive at Fontaine, you automatically start searching for Furina. She said she was going to meet up with you at Hotel Debord, but when you arrived at the agreed destination, Furina wasn’t alone. 

“Furina and Mavuika! Will you be joining us for dessert today?” You ask, looking at the Pyro Archon. Furina doesn’t look too pleased, but she does have a fake smile plastered on her face, trying to play it off that everything is fine. 

Mavuika smiles, draping her arm over your shoulder before brushing her fiery red hair off her shoulders. “Of course, I am! I was here on a business trip, and our paths happened to cross! We were catching up, and well, here we are!” Mavuika answers.

Furina nods, trying her best to keep the smile on her face. Furina isn’t against the idea of people joining you and her on your date hangout, but what she is against is people joining last minute, hence why Furina isn’t fond of the idea of Lumine and Paimon tagging along. 

“Furina?”

What’s next? More people are going to join you, Furina and Mavuika?

“Furinaaaa?”

Archons, this day was supposed to be perfect! Just you and Furina and no one else tagging along and ruining the moment between you two! 

“Furina!”

Furina jumps, her eyes wide as she looks around the hotel in a frenzy, searching for whoever’s calling out to her. Furina feels a gentle hand covering her hand. Her eyes dart down to see your hand grasping hers. Furina gulps and looks to see you (along with Mavuika) gazing at her worriedly. 

Heat rushes to her cheeks as she sits up straight in her seat, snatching her hand out from underneath yours in the process. “Ah, yes? I apologize, I got distracted by the array of dessert options on the menu!” Furina announces, waving the menu to show you and Mavuika.

“Are you okay?” You whisper to the former Hydro Archon.

Furina smiles and nods in response before proceeding to look at the menu with feigned interest. When it’s time to order something to eat, Furina’s the one who orders for everyone at the table. Once the waiter walks away, you get up from your seat to excuse yourself.

Furina quickly grabs your hand out of sheer panic, fearing you’re leaving way before the desserts arrive. “Don’t go!”

You stare at Furina with wide eyes. “Furina, I’m going to the restroom! I’ll be back, I promise.” You smile at the frazzled (ex) Hydro Archon. “You and Mavuika can continue the conversation you two were having before I arrived, and I will be right back!” You pat Furina’s head before walking to the nearest restroom.

When you leave to go to the restroom, a thousand questions run through Furina’s head. Mavuika talks about the state of Natlan and how Aether and Lumine helped her save her nation. Without the two blonde twins, who knows what would’ve happened to the Pyro nation? Furina tries her best to be a great listener; she really does! But how can she focus on what Mavuika is saying when she sees you talking to Emilie?! What is she doing here at Hotel Debord?!

“It’s nice seeing you again, Emilie!” You say, bidding her farewell.

Emilie waves at you before parting ways, walking to who knows where. Why’s Emilie at the hotel and talking to you!? You sit back in your seat between Furina and Mavuika. You open your mouth to speak, but Furina beats you to it.

Furina rests her elbows on the table, gazing at you intensely. “I saw you talking with Emilie! What were you two talking about?” Furina asks, smiling at you.

“Emilie offered to make me a custom perfume because I mentioned it to her a while back, but never got to talk about it again. We had a brief chat about it, but I’ll have to stop by her place for a full consultation!” You reply, nodding.

The hangout with both Mavuika and Furina is even more awkward than you thought it would be. You know Furina wants to have dessert with you at Hotel Debord with no one else tagging along, but you wonder why it’s different with Mavuika. The entire time, it’s mostly you trying to carry the conversation with Mavuika and Furina. Mavuika is very attentive, wanting you to try the desserts that are new on the menu—ones that make her taste buds sing. While discussing the topic of desserts, Furnia gladly takes over the conversation to give lists of what she recommends and where to find the best macarons.

Watching Furina and Mavuika converse with each other makes you happy after noticing small signs—technically, it wasn’t a small sign, it was kind of obvious that Furina wasn’t too happy—of Furina not being too ecstatic about having an additional person at the dessert hangout. While Furina and Mavuika are talking, you happily eat your dessert. 

“I wonder if the mooncake Ningguang bought for me is going to taste as amazing as these desserts. I can’t wait to go home and try them out myself!” You subconsciously look over at the luxurious boxes of mooncakes in the empty seat across from you.

“Oh? Lady Ningguang bought you those luxurious mooncakes?” Furina asks, peeking over the dessert tower to stare at the fancy boxes.

Mavuika smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear. “How generous of Lady Ningguang. I have a meeting with her tomorrow regarding Natlan and Liyue’s economic trades,” Mavuika murmurs, taking a bite of her Petit Gateau Debord.

Oh, shit, did you say that out loud? You nod in response to Furina’s question. Furina hums, tapping on her cheek before waving down the waiter. She whispers to the waiter, making sure you and Mavuika don’t hear a single thing. 

After the waiter walks away, Furina tells you not to worry about what she whispered to the waiter before finishing her dessert. Despite finishing everything that you three have ordered, you three continue to sit at the table in silence. 

A large meal with Ningguang, accompanied by desserts with Furina and Mavuika, is rapidly catching up to you. You lean back in your seat and take a deep breath. Your stomach feels like it’s about to explode if you move slightly. 

Furina sighs happily. “Whoo! I am stuffed!” She says, patting her tummy, and turns to look at you and Mavuika.

“The dessert was delicious. Thank you for inviting me to join you and [Y/N] for dessert,” Mavuika says, smiling at the former Hydro Archon. “I’m happy to be able to join you two.”

It takes a lot of convincing from Furina and Mavuika for you to finally step out of Hotel Debord. You want to sit down and maybe take a nap somewhere, but Mavuika urges you to take a nap at home rather than somewhere public because you also have luxurious mooncakes with you.

You hug the boxes to your chest, huffing and puffing with every step you take because, well, you ate a lot today, and the boxes of mooncakes are surprisingly heavier than you thought they would be. It did have some weight to it, but it feels even heavier now that your tummy is full of delicious Liyuen dishes and Fontainian desserts. 

“[Y/N]!” You hear a familiar voice call out to you as the sounds of rapid footsteps approach where you, Furina, and Mavuika are standing.

You turn to see Chiori running up to you, looking perkier than usual. You smile at the Inazuman woman and wave at her despite your hands being full. 

Chiori stops before you, popping her hands on her hips, looking proud. She briefly greets Furina and Mavuika before turning to you, her cheeks flushed from running. “Just the person I wanted to see!”

You stare at Chiori owlishly. “You were looking for me?”

Chiori nods. “I heard from Charlotte that you were going to be in Fontaine today with Lady Furina. I was hoping to run into you before you left, and thankfully I did!” Chiori smiles. “Anyway, I wanted to inform you that your custom clothes are completed and will be shipped out to you by the end of the day! However, I can give you the clothes now if that’s what you prefer!”

Your eyes widen, and your mouth is agape. Oh, Archons, has time flown by that fast? The last time you placed your order for customized clothing was two months ago. Since it’s close to the end of the day, and you have nothing else to do, it wouldn’t hurt to have Chiori give you your order now rather than shipping it out to your abode. 

You nod. “Since I’m here already, might as well give me my order and I’ll take it home with me,” you say, earning a wide smile from Chiori.

“Great! Let’s go to Chioriya Boutique for your clothes!” Chiori says happily, grabbing onto your wrist and pulling you in the direction of her boutique, leaving Mavuika and Furina behind.

Furina watches Chiori drag you away from her, her mouth agape with bafflement. Mavuika reaches to pull Furina to follow along, but the former Hydro Archon pulls her hand out of Mavuika’s grasp, lightly batting her hands away.

Furina huffs. “This day isn’t turning out how I hoped it would,” Furina mutters and chases after you and Chiori.

Chiori takes the mooncakes from your hand and places them on the counter, and grabs your hand to usher you to where your clothes are waiting. You let out an audible gasp in awe at the clothes on the mannequins. The intricate designs and the silhouettes of your custom-made clothes are breathtaking! Not only that, but the fabrics feel divine to the touch, and it’s perfect!

You turn to Chiori, eyes bright. “Chiori, I can’t thank you enough! Thank you so much! Everything looks amazing all thanks to you.” You whisper in awe, pulling her into a hug.

Chiori’s eyes widen, and she quickly recovers, wrapping her arms around you. “It’s my pleasure, [Y/N].”

The bells at the entrance of the boutique chime, making you and Chiori pull away from the hug. Furina is panting at the door, her hands on her knees as she tries to catch her breath. Behind her stands Mavuika, who looks around the boutique with interest. 

“Furina! Look how beautiful the clothes turned out!” You say, gesturing to the mannequins.

Furina walks closer to where the mannequins stand and begins inspecting them while stroking her chin. “I’m not surprised the clothes turned out beautiful. After all, you did have a professional craft and sewed them for you,” Furina murmurs, looking at Chiori with approval. 

Chiori smiles, brushing a stray hair away from her face. “Let me get them packed up for you,” Chiori says.

You help Chiori pack your order into boxes—well, that’s what you initially thought she was going to do, but instead, she brings out Chioriya Boutique shopping bags. The shopping bag is made of premium paper and luxurious fabrics (the handle of the bag). Chiori places each article of clothing in a plastic bag to prevent the clothes from getting dirty while returning to your abode. 

“There! The clothes are ready to go home with you!” Chiori says, turning to you with her hands propped on her hips.

You bowed to Chiori. “Thank you so much, Chiori.”

Chiori laughs shyly, her cheeks turning bright pink. “There’s no need to thank me, [Y/N].”

The clock on the wall chimes, letting you and everyone know that it’s getting late. As you step out of Chioriya Boutique, you see Clorinde standing there. You stop in your tracks, adjusting the shopping bags on your arms and the boxes of mooncakes in your hands.

“Clorinde? What are you doing out here? It’s late,” you murmur, walking towards the Champion Duelist.

Clorinde raises her eyebrows at you, looking at every box and bag on your person. “I’m here to escort you back to your abode.”

Clorinde is going to escort you back to your abode? That’s sweet of her, but she doesn’t need to do that at all. Just when you’re about to reply, Clorinde takes the boxes of mooncakes from your hands along with the Chioriya Boutique shopping bags. 

“It’s okay, Clorinde! I got it!” You try to protest, but she quickly moves out of the way, preventing you from grabbing the boxes and bags from her. 

Furina, Mavuika, and Chiori step out of the boutique to see the Champion Duelist with your belongings. Clorinde nods to the three women, “I will be taking it from here, ladies. May the three of you have a good night.” Clorinde then gestures for you to follow her.

On your way back to your abode, it’s silent between you and Clorinde. You try to strike up a conversation with Clorinde, but she’s not much of a conversationalist, and that’s fine with you because you’re not much of one either. The majority of the walk to your abode is in silence, and that gives you the chance to admire the scenery around you. 

When you and Clorinde approach the front door of your abode, you stop in your tracks when you see a fairly large box waiting for you. You approach the box, looking at the white label. The package is from Hotel Debord.

At first, you were confused about when you last placed an order with Hotel Debord, but then it dawned on you. “No…She did not…” You trail off before quickly unlocking the door to your house. “You can put the things on the table. I’m going to attempt to carry whatever is in this box into the house.” You instruct Clorinde.

You move out of the way for Clorinde, staring at the box. You squat and grab the box, testing the weight. It’s not too heavy, but it’s certainly not as light as the boxes of mooncakes, either. How long has this box been sitting outside your house?

“Do you need help with that?” Clorinde asks, now standing at the entrance of your abode.

You nod. “Yes, please.”

You and Clorinde carry the box into your house, putting it on the dining table. Clorinde cuts the tape on the box and opens it, revealing luxurious desserts. You’ve never seen these desserts before, heck, you don’t think they sell these types of desserts at Hotel Debord! They could, and the ones shipped to you are a fancier version of the desserts you, Furina, and Mavuika ate today. 

A small white piece of paper catches Clorinde’s attention. She grabs the paper and skims through it—it’s a small letter written by Furina. You take the desserts out of the box, glancing over at Clorinde.

“What’s that?”

Clorinde hands you the paper wordlessly before helping you take the desserts out of the box. Surprisingly, the desserts didn’t smear onto the box. However, some of the desserts are big, and Clorinde needs to be careful when she takes them out of the box. While you read the letter written by Furina, you can’t help but feel Clorinde’s eyes burn into your skull.

“Oh, Furina. She’s so sweet,” you murmur, placing the card on the table.

Clorinde crosses her arms over her chest. “You somehow crawled your way into people’s hearts and made it your home.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, making its way up to the tips of your ears. You know what Clorinde is implying, and you don’t know how to process that thought. You can’t use, “Oh, they care about me a lot because we’re great friends!” as an excuse for your overthinking mind. You don’t know what to do or how to grasp the severity of the situation. 

Shit, you’re not used to people having feelings for you. Even if someone did have a crush on you, you wouldn’t be aware of it until years later. Heck, you like them back, but you don’t know how it’ll work out when some people are more possessive than others. 

“You’re overthinking it.”

You snap out of your thoughts to see Clorinde staring at you, now standing a little bit closer than where she was standing earlier. You let out a sigh, rubbing your temples. “I’m going to deal with this tomorrow because it’s getting late and I need time to process everything. You can stay for the night if you’d like, Clorinde.”

Clorinde nods, a small smile gracing her face. You went to put the desserts into the fridge to distract yourself from dying internally. Dear Archons, how are you going to process everything without short-circuiting? Surely in another universe, this will be easier, right?

Note: No, I will not be continuing this fic because I don't really like how it turned out. Do I plan on writing anymore Genshin Women x isekai'd!Reader? Not really. Unless a thousand people demand more, I will do it. Other than that, this is the first and final fic for Genshin women x isekai'd!reader fics. Oh, and the reader is still gender neutral in this fic. There's no specific gender for the reader. Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist: No taglist for this update. Will make a new taglist in the future.

Read more of my works on my Grand Masterlist, which contains every masterlist I have created! | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories there, too, but who knows? You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[twstedfreak]

Age of Eris

Pairings: Various ZZZ Men x reader

Summary: Weeks, you've been gone for weeks—no, months! You've been gone for months! No one could find you, no matter how much they tried to look for you. There were endless dead ends that drove them to the point of insanity. But one day, Belle rushes to Random Play to inform Wise that you've been found and are currently at the Public Security Office. The same person who captured the hearts of many. What's so special about you?

Note: I liked how this fic started out, until I got close to the end ;v; As always, the reader is gender neutral with no specific pronouns. I'm not entirely sure if this will be an isekai fic like my Genshin and HSR isekai series, but I left the reader's background be a mystery just in case it does turn into an isekai fic. Anyway, I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (also Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Characters are ooc because I don't play ZZZ enough to be familiar with the characters (I'm also behind on quests and skip out on the quests unless it's for Hugo Vlad and Jane Doe).

Word Count: 6.4k

Belle bursts through the door of Random Play, startling the customers, Bangboo 18, and Wise. She pants, hands on her knees as she takes deep breaths. Wise rushes up to Belle, placing a hand on her back as he ushers her to the staff’s room. Once Wise closes the door behind them, Belle grasps ‌Wise’s sleeve, shaking him.

“They found them,” Belle whispers. 

Wise’s eyebrows furrow with confusion as he tries to make out what his sister is saying. “Who’s they? Belle, I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

Belle squeezes her eyes shut and shakes him with vigor. “Wise, PubSec finally found them.” She gives him a look, hoping Wise’ll catch on to what she’s saying. After hearing that the Public Security had found a certain missing person after a long time, Belle didn’t waste any time and immediately ran back to Random Play to break the news to her brother.

Wise’s eyes widen, his heart leaping in his chest and up to his throat. “PubSec finally found [Y/N]?! Why didn’t you call me to let me know!?” Wise exclaims, now the one to shake his sister.

Belle stares at Wise in disbelief, her mouth agape. Well, sorry! Can’t blame a girl for wanting to break the news to her dear brother in person! 

She narrows her eyes at Wise, pushes his arms off, and looks away with a huff. “I bring you good news, and this is how you thank me? How sweet of you, Wise.” Belle deadpans. 

Wise visibly relaxes and sighs, his shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry, Belle. It’s been so long since they went missing and—”

“And if you want to see them soon, we need to go to PubSec now.” Belle interrupts Wise.

Wise shuts his mouth, nodding. Belle is right. There’s no time to lose! The sooner he gets to PubSec, the sooner he can see you after so long. Belle and Wise run to their car, driving off to the Public Security Office in Lumina Square. 

Wise parks in front of the building and quickly takes the keys out of the ignition. Wise and Belle rush into the building, only to see a large crowd in the main lobby of the Public Security Office. Belle and Wise look at each other, confused. Why are there so many people gathering in this one spot? However, they’re not just random civilians of New Eridu. 

Aside from Seth Lowell, Belle and Wise see Billy Kid, Anton Ivanov, Von Lycaon, Lighter, Asaba Harumasa, and Hugo Vlad among the crowd. Belle and Wise peek from their shoulders to see you talking to Jane Doe as she and Zhu Yuan take notes while listening to everything you say.

“I saw my life flash before my eyes! I thought I was going to die in that moment and—”

Jane sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. “And you won’t die. We won’t let it happen, [Y/N]. You know that, right?”

You stare at Jane owlishly. Of course, you know that Jane and the rest of PubSec wouldn’t let you die, but you’ve been missing for months. It took them months to find you, but it’s better than never, right? 

Clearing your throat, you nod. “Well, yes, but I thought it was kind of cool, but also scary, that these thugs view me as important enough to kidnap and hold me hostage,”

Seth approaches you, his eyebrows furrowing. “It’s not cool, [Y/N]! You were gone for months! Heck, maybe almost a year or past that! We looked everywhere for you, and every time we thought these trails were leading us somewhere, we would hit endless dead ends!” Seth runs his hands through his hair while his ears twitch with irritation.

You can’t help but flinch at his outburst, shrinking in your spot. “Sorry, Seth. In all honesty, I’m trying to process everything that has happened. It was cool, yes, but most of the time, I was terrified of what could happen next. I didn’t know if I was going to escape from them alive or not.”

The ears on Seth’s head flatten. Just as Seth is about to console you, Wise suddenly appears and pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. You let out a surprised yelp, eyes widening. You quickly recover after realizing the person crushing you is Wise. You melt in his arms and wrap your arms around his waist. 

Wise buries his face in your hair, tightening his grip around you. “I’m so glad that you’re safe and sound. Gosh, you have no idea how worried you made me,” Wise whispers into your hair, squeezing his eyes shut, fearing that if he opens his eyes, this would all be a simulation of some sort. 

“Hey, [Y/N] had us worried, too!” Billy Kid interjects, propping his hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes (?) at Wise. 

Wise ignores Billy and continues to hug you. You pat Wise’s back, letting the gray-haired man hold on to you like a lifeline. Belle peeks from Wise’s back, smiling and waving at you. You smile and wave in return, struggling to stand straight when Wise is putting most of his weight on you.

Lycaon clears his throat. “Mr. Proxy, I believe you should give [Y/N] some space to breathe,” Lycaon comments, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hugo Vlad chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. “What? Are you jealous, Lycaon?” Hugo asks, smirking at the annoyed canine Thiren.

Lycaon sighs, rolling his eyes. “That was merely for you, not for me, Hugo Vlad,” Lycaon mutters.

Wise releases you from his bone-crushing hug and rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks feeling hotter than he would like them to be. Jane and Zhu Yuan snicker from the sides, giving you a teasing smile. You quickly look away, hoping the flustered look on your face isn’t obvious. Unfortunately for you, it’s very obvious to everyone around you.

Zhu Yuan clears her throat. “Alright, I believe that concludes for today. We will continue this tomorrow morning,” Zhu Yuan says, putting her notepad into her pocket. 

Jane and Zhu Yuan walk away, and Harumasa approaches you. “If you’d like, I can escort you home,” Harumasa offers, holding his arm out for you to take.

Before you can take up on his offer, Lighter steps in, shaking his head. “It’s alright, Harumasa. I can take over. It seems like you have fans outside waiting for you.” Lighter gestures to the entrance of the Public Security Office.

Lighter is indeed correct. Outside the building is a large group of people—mainly girls— peering into the window of the building to get a glimpse of the stunner that is Asaba Harumasa. They let out piercing screams when they notice that Harumasa looks in their direction. Wait, where did they come from? When Wise and Belle arrived at the Public Security Office, there weren’t any crowds forming outside the building. 

Anton snickers. “You have quite the fanbase, huh, Harumasa?” Anton mutters, smirking at the flustered Harumasa. “For the sake of [Y/N]’s safety, I will be the one to escort them home. Who knows how crazy your fans are?”

Anton looks at you with a charming smile. You swear that the world around you fades to pink with sparkles and rose petals fluttering around you and Anton. You’re not sure whose offer you should take up. Sensing your distress, Belle—a godsend—wraps her arm around your shoulders and pulls you away from the crowd with Wise in tow.

“I’ll take it from here, boys! After all, [Y/N] lives not too far from the video store!” Belle chirps, looking at you from the corner of her eyes as if she’s telling you to play along.

You nod, relief hitting you like a tide. “Right! I forgot we live so close to each other. It’s been a while since I was home,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly.

Home. How long has it been since you last stepped into the comfort of your home? Months, but how long exactly? 

Anton sighs, running his hands through his hair. “How about this? To ensure everyone’s safety, mainly [Y/N]’s safety, we should all tag along!” Anton suggests.

Belle and Wise nearly deflate at how persistent these men are. The men around you, Belle, and Wise murmur among themselves. You peek at Wise and Belle, and they have similar expressions to one another, making you audibly snort. 

“I don’t know about you guys, but that sounds like a brilliant plan to me! We can all be [Y/N]’s personal bodyguards!” Billy says, nodding.

“Alright, sounds like a plan then!” Belle gives everyone two thumbs up before exiting the Public Security Office with you and Wise by her side.

The closer you approach the entryway, the more restless the crowd outside the building becomes. Belle and Wise link their arms with yours and open the door, pushing through the crowd of screaming fans while trying not to get separated from you by the crowd. You’re grateful that Wise and Belle drove their car to the Office, but you don’t think it’ll fit everyone tagging along. 

The seating arrangement for the trip back to the parking lot of the video store is questionable and awkward. Everyone, aside from Wise and Belle, squeezed into the back of the car. You can’t help but feel like you’re in a clown car—trapped in a decently sized car with more than four people. 

Once Wise parks the car in the parking lot behind Random Play, everyone exits the car. You look around Sixth Street, all sorts of emotions hitting you like a freight train. It feels so nice to be back at Sixth Street, your home. 

“So? How does it feel to be back home?” Seth asks, staring at you while you continue to survey your surroundings.

You sigh, feeling months of built-up stress finally leaving your body. “It’s nice to be back.” You whisper, finally locking eyes with Seth.

Seth’s face turns bright red almost immediately when you smile at him. He lets out a small giggle and looks away, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to calm down. You snicker and look at the others, who are staring at you and Seth.

Lycaon approaches you, holding his arm out for you. “Ready for us to escort you home?”

You smile, nodding. “Ready as always, Lycaon.” You loop your arm around his and allow him to guide you to where your home is. 

You live in a small apartment behind One Four One, the convenience store. While the walking distance isn’t bad, everyone wants you to arrive at your apartment without trouble. When Belle and Wise arrived at the Public Security Office, it was the afternoon. Now that everyone is escorting you back to your apartment, it’s evening. 

The night is chilly, sending shivers down your spine, and goosebumps appear on your bare arms. Before anyone can offer you their jacket, Hugo drapes his coat over your shoulders. The scent of his cologne is very comforting, and the warmth of his jacket envelops you like a warm hug. Wow, he smells so good. Would it be weird to ask him to spray whatever cologne he owns on your pillow so you can hug it in your sleep? Yes, yes, it is. 

You turn to look at Hugo, cheeks feeling warm from the blood rushing to your cheeks. “Thank you, Hugo,” you say shyly.

Hugo chuckles, stroking your hair while ignoring the glares shooting in his direction from Lycaon and others, while Belle pretends not to notice the spark between you and Hugo. And the ever-growing tension between everyone. 

“Anything for you, darling. Wouldn’t want you to freeze now, would we?” Hugo teases, lightly pinching your cheek.

Billy sticks his pinky in the air, his other hand propping on his hips. “It’s not even cold out, quit trying to show off, Hugo!”

Hugo grunts in response as you all proceed to walk up the stairs to your apartment. Now standing in front of your apartment unit, you search your person for your keys. Sheer panic kicks in, and your hands rapidly scan your body for the most important thing to access your home. Your heart drops in your chest as you turn to look at everyone like a kicked puppy.

“I don’t have my keys on me,” you whisper. “I think I may have dropped it somewhere in the Hollow, but I’m not sure when.”

How in the world are you supposed to access your apartment now? You’re not going to be able to take a shower, change into new and clean clothes, and get proper sleep when your keys are missing somewhere in the Hollow.

“It’s okay, [Y/N]! How about you crash at the video store for tonight, and we can figure out the next steps in the morning!” Belle suggests, smiling at you sympathetically. 

You sigh, nodding. It’s starting to get late in the evening, and you don’t want to disturb your landlord about your lost key. Might as well take up on Belle’s offer for the night. “Thank you, Belle, again.”

Belle pats your back, smiling at you. “Anything to help out a friend!”

At the video store, Belle and Wise argue over who gets to lend you their clothes for the night while you sit to the side with Hugo’s jacket still draping over your shoulders. At first, you assume that once you arrive at the video store, everyone else is going to retire for the night and return to their respective homes. However, you’re wrong because your bodyguards for the day are still with you.

You look at Lighter, your head tilting while gazing at him and the others curiously. “Are you sure you’re not returning home to get some rest?”

“We could, but it’s late. Aside from that, we also want to make sure nothing happens to you in the middle of the night.” Lighter murmurs, leaning against the wall of the bedroom at Random Play.

You snort, shaking your head. “I doubt anything is going to happen to me in the middle of the night while I sleep at the video store.”

Harumasa makes a noise, crossing his arms over his chest. “You don’t know that, [Y/N]. Those thugs held you hostage for months in the Hollow. Who knows what’ll happen to you out of retaliation?”

He’s not wrong. The months spent in the Hollow with those thugs were grueling, and you nearly lost all hope of ever escaping or being saved. You sigh, nodding. It won’t hurt to have someone (well, more like people) watch over you while you sleep. By the time Belle and Wise compromise over whose clothes you’ll be borrowing for the night, you have already fallen asleep on Seth’s shoulders with Hugo’s jacket used as a blanket to keep you warm. Lycaon sighs, shaking his head as he rubs his temples.

“It’s best to let them sleep, Mr. and Miss. Proxy. This may be the first time they’re getting proper sleep since their disappearance,” Lycaon says, the ears on his head twitching. 

Wise nods. “You’re right, Lycaon. We can head back to their apartment and grab a change of clothes for them in the morning before they wake up,” Wise suggests. 

Seth doesn’t move from his spot as he’s worried about waking you up from your peaceful slumber. Lighter cautiously scoops you up in his arms, making sure not to disturb your sleep. Seth’s ears flatten on his head, disappointed that you’re no longer sleeping on his shoulders. Lighter places you on the bed, removes your shoes before tucking you into bed. Though before he tucks you in bed, he removes Hugo’s jacket from your lap and places it on the railing in the room. 

“Time to retire for the night. Everyone had a long day, and now we can finally rest while some of us keep watch over [Y/N] as they sleep,” Lighter says, leaning on the railing beside the bed. 

Seth gazes at Lighter incredulously. “You’re going to pull an all-nighter? That doesn’t sound like the best idea since we all chose to be [Y/N]’s bodyguard for the night.” Seth huffs, standing up from his spot on the couch.

Lighter raises his eyebrows at Seth, sensing tension rising in the air. Belle sighs, burying her face in her hands, shaking her head. Not wanting to deal with the argument, Belle quietly exits the room to get some sleep downstairs in the staff’s room, leaving Wise behind to deal with the mess he’s also part of. 

Harumasa yawns, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. “It’s late, you guys. Let’s just get some sleep, and whoever wants to be the first one to watch over [Y/N], be our guest.”

Without a second thought, everyone raises their hands to volunteer to be the first one to keep watch. Hugo shakes his head, rubbing his temples with an annoyed sigh. Out of everyone in the room, Hugo is the only one who can keep watch over you (and everyone else in the room, but they can all handle themselves). 

“Does it matter who’s the first one to watch over [Y/N]? If we’re all taking turns, it shouldn’t matter, no?” Hugo mutters. “I’ll keep watch over them. After all, I doubt none of you will last thirty minutes into your watch duty.”

Everyone begrudgingly gives in and sprawls around the room to get some sleep while keeping a distance from each other. There’s no way in hell they’ll wake up to cuddling someone other than you. A smug smile plasters on Hugo’s face as he watches everyone reluctantly close their eyes to get some sleep. 

The next day, when the sun is high in the sky, you wake up with the sun shining in your eyes. You groan and turn over to your side, only to bump into something. You assume it’s the wall, but when you open your eyes, you nearly tumble out of bed. Anton somehow manages to make his way to the bed and is watching you. Judging by the look on his face, he probably woke up a few minutes before you started stirring. 

Anton smiles, brushing your hair away from your face. “Morning, [Y/N]. How’d you sleep?” 

Your face heats up at the mere thought of sharing a bed with someone other than the plushies on the bed at Random Play. “Good, but I’m really tempted to go back to sleep.” You rub your eyes and lie back in bed, sleepiness gradually kicking in again.

For once, after so long, you’re able to get proper sleep without having to worry about your safety. Someone clears their throat, startling you and Anton. You look to see the others standing near the stairs that lead to the bed, glaring at the man lying beside you.

Harumasa points an accusing finger at Anton. “You said you were going to keep watch, but instead, you snuck over here to sleep next to [Y/N]!?” Harumasa hisses, his hand clenching into a fist by his side.

“And this is why we leave the job to a PubSec officer. I’ve patrolled over Sixth Street and Lumina Square, yet none of you want me to keep watch overnight while the rest of you sleep?” Seth mumbles, shaking his head with disapproval. 

You look at Anton, who gets up from the bed and stretches his arms in the air like a cat. Wise walks over to you and hands you your clothes. Your eyes widen, and you look at him quizzically, wondering how in the world he managed to get your clothes from your apartment when you lost your keys. A knock at the door breaks the tension in the room. You look to see Belle waving at you, your apartment keys in her hand.

Belle holds up a finger just as you’re about to question her. “Before you ask, we went to your apartment and talked to your landlord about it. He agreed to make an extra key at no charge!” Belle says happily. 

You leap out of bed and pull her into a hug while Belle laughs, patting your head. “Thank you so much, Belle!” You pull from the hug. “But you could’ve woken me up to go with you guys, too, you know?”

“Why would we wake you up when you’re finally getting decent sleep in however many months?!” Billy exclaims, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now, go shower, stinky. Wouldn’t want to return to the Public Security Office smelling like blue cheese, now, would you?”

You glare at Billy and chuck a cushion at him, causing him to burst out laughing before successfully dodging the hit. You huff and let Belle show you where the bathroom is, so you can finally take a shower and change into clean clothes. While you’re in the shower, Wise and the others start to interrogate Anton for sleeping on the job. 

Anton sits at the edge of the bed, running his hands through his hair with a smug look. “Hey, it’s not like I actually slept on the job. I slept after you guys left because I was tired, and I’m too tall to sleep on the couch. Can you blame a guy?” Anton asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“There’s a couch downstairs in the staff’s room. If you were tired, you should’ve gone downstairs to sleep there instead.” Lighter comments, glaring at Anton.

Anton leans back, now lying in the spot you once were lying. “I could, but I don’t want to. It won’t happen again, I promise. But if we have to be honest, if any of you had the chance, you would’ve swapped places with me.” He holds his hands up in defense.

No one says a thing as they’re all silently fuming and agreeing with what Anton said. Everyone has known you for about a year and a half. It would have been almost longer than that, but you vanished in the night, causing everyone to nearly flip all of New Eridu upside down in search of you. Before your disappearance, you managed to make yourself a home in everyone’s hearts and minds. No one knows how you did it, but you did.

“I have a weird feeling about them,” Ellen Joe muttered one day, leaning against the wall of Victoria Housekeeping Co., watching Lycaon lean down to allow you to pet his ears, his tail subconsciously wagging with happiness and contentment.

Corin Wickes gazed at Ellen with her head tilted, confused about what she meant. “Why? Did you catch them stealing in the act!?” Corin whispered, peeking from the pillar of the building to watch you and Lycaon from a distance.

Ellen Joe shook her head. It’s not something Ellen can point out easily. You were a nice person—a little awkward and sometimes too cheerful for her liking, but she liked you nonetheless. If it were possible to put it into words, Ellen would have an easier way to pinpoint the strange thing about you. There was something off about you, but she couldn’t pinpoint it. At least not yet. 

Rina approached Ellen and Corin with a fake smile. “Let’s not get distracted, ladies. Lycaon will not be pleased if he sees both of you slacking off just to spy on him and [Y/N].”

Ellen and Corin muttered apologies before proceeding to do their tasks around the manor.

After your shower, you and the others go to your apartment to do a quick check-up to make sure things are still in their place. Everything in your apartment is untouched, thankfully. You make a quick note to yourself to clean your apartment once you return from the Public Security Office. Your desk and shelves are dusty, and there’s untouched laundry you need to start on. Great, coming home from the Hollow only to start on chores that were supposed to be done a few months back.

Seth approaches you. “Ready to head to the Public Security Office?” Seth asks.

You nod. “Yeah, I’m ready. Let me grab my wallet and keys.” You quickly excuse yourself.

Harumasa emerges from your bedroom with your wallet and apartment keys in his hands, jingling them in front of you. “No need to worry about getting them.” Harumasa hands you your wallet and apartment key, the two of you accidentally brushing hands.

You smile at him, pocketing your belongings and thanking him while doing so. You turn to walk to the entrance of your apartment, where the others are waiting for you, Seth, and Harumasa, leaving a flustered Harumasa and fuming Seth to follow you. Seth glares at Harumasa from the corner of his eyes, his tail puffy with irritation. Harumasa happily hums; there’s a pep in his step, and his eyes are sparkling. 

Once everyone is out of your apartment, you go to lock the doors, digging into your pockets. 

Hugo raises his eyebrows. “What’s got you all riled up?” Hugo asks, crossing his arms over his chest while he leans on the railing outside your apartment.

Seth shakes his head, exhaling audibly. “Riled up? I’m not riled up at all. Anyway, let’s go to the Public Security Office and get this over with.”

Seth huffs, walking ahead of everyone after you locked your apartment. Belle glances at Wise, who looks just as confused as she does. The two don’t say a thing and proceed to follow your group to their car behind the video store. When everyone is figuring out the seating situation, you quietly pull Seth to the side.

“Are you okay?” You gaze at him worriedly.

Seth crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m perfectly fine! Why’d you ask?” Seth asks, refusing to look at you.

You press your lips into a thin line, unsure of what to say. You nod, slowly backing off. As you walk back to the group, Seth watches you from afar, his ears flat on his head. He didn’t mean to upset you, but… seeing you with Anton and Harumasa makes him feel a certain way. It’s a very ugly feeling in his chest. Watching you laugh with the others, wearing Hugo’s jacket to keep you warm, and your hands touching Harumasa’s hands makes him feel jealous.

“Seth! Are you coming or what?! You’re wasting precious time here, and I don’t want to sit here any longer than I need to be.” Billy hollers from his spot in the car.

Seth exhales for the umpteenth time today and climbs into the backseat of the car, where everyone else is. Seth nearly loses his mind when he sees that you’re sitting on Lycaon’s lap with his hands planted firmly on your waist. Seth swallows his pride and sits wherever he’s appointed, silently fuming with jealousy. 

The ride to the Public Security Office is awkward and tense; it’s worse than last night for sure. Every time there’s a bump on the road, someone starts complaining when the person beside them bumps into them. Whenever you look at Seth, he will not look at you at all. Did you do something to upset him? Was it ‌because yesterday when you said that it was cool how a gang of thugs views you as important enough to kidnap? It can’t be that, right?

“Is there something on your mind, Mx. [Y/N]?” Lycaon murmurs, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

You shake your head, rubbing your temples. “There’s a lot on my mind, actually. But I’ll be okay, I promise,” you peek at Lycaon, smiling at him.

Lycaon leans back in his seat. “If you would like to discuss anything, I’m all ears. If there’s anything that’s bothering you, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

You smile at Lycaon and squeeze his hands, finding comfort in his words. You quietly thanked the Thiren for the reassuring words, unaware of the glances you and Lycaon received from the other seven men in the car. Plus Belle, who glances in the rearview mirror to see the sweet interaction between you and the leader and representative of Victoria Housekeeping Co.. 

Billy huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe I should’ve chosen the option to walk to the Public Security Office instead.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, Billy,” Belle snorts, shaking her head as she pulls up to the parking lot of the office. 

Everyone starts piling out of the car, grumbling about the lack of space. Instead of letting you step out of the car, Lycaon carries you out himself. Heat rushes to your cheeks when you notice bystanders are staring at you and Lycaon. 

Lycaon places you on the ground after, gazing at you worriedly. “Are you alright? Did I, perhaps, make you feel uncomfortable?”

Your eyes widen, and you quickly protest, shaking your head. “No, no, Lycaon! No need to worry at all, please! I’m just not used to the amount of attention on me, that’s all,” you laugh sheepishly. 

Seth lets out a sharp exhale, walking between you and Lycaon and towards the building of the Public Security Office. “Let’s not waste time. Jane and Zhu Yuan are inside waiting for us,” Seth grumbles.

Standing beside you, Harumasa makes a disgruntled noise. “What’s his problem? I’ve never seen him act this way before until today,” Harumasa comments, glancing over at you and Lycaon.

Both you and the Thiren shrug in response before entering the Public Security Office. Upon entering the building, you’re immediately greeted by Jane and Zhu Yuan. You greet the two women before subconsciously searching for Seth, wondering what you could have possibly done to upset him greatly. 

“Are you ready?” Jane asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You smile at her and nod, following behind her and Zhu Yuan. A million thoughts race through your mind a mile a minute as you sit in the chair of their office. As you recount every moment that has happened while you were held captive in the Hollow, sharp pain in your head forces you to stop. You try not to show it, the white-hot pain shooting throughout your head, sending painful and hot pulses in your skull. You close your eyes and sigh, rubbing your temples. 

Zhu Yuan stops what she’s doing and stares at you worriedly. “[Y/N], are you alright?” She murmurs, turning to Jane without taking her eyes off you.

You clench your jaw, nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Jane looks at the clock, noticing that it’s a good place to stop for now before continuing after their lunch break. You nearly cry out in relief. Finally, you can leave to get some air and maybe have a restroom break. You walk to the nearest restroom and close and lock the door behind you, pressing yourself up against the wall and sliding to the ground. 

The pain from earlier is still there; it’s dull, but you can still feel the initial pain before it dulls out. What in the world was that? You stare at your hands, slowly inspecting your body to see if there’s anything else. The world around you slowly drowns out as you continue to check yourself. You press your hand against your neck, feeling for a pulse—it’s there, strong as ever. You press your hand against your chest, feeling your heart drumming against your ribcage. Instead of a steady beat, it’s racing. Your hands feel sweaty. So sweaty that you can see faint beads of sweat forming on the palm of your hand. 

“What the hell is happening?” You mutter, pushing yourself off the ground and slowly walking to the sink.

You clutch onto the sink, the running water from the faucet drowning out the voices in your head—the same voices that are making you overthink the littlest things. Maybe it’s because you didn’t get enough sleep last night. You splash cold water onto your face, hoping it’ll calm you down. You wipe your face with the white paper towel before looking in the mirror. Your breath gets caught in your throat, and you jump back in fear. 

You turn around, only to see no one. You turn to look at the mirror again, only to pull something, sending the same white-hot pain pulsing throughout your skull. You cry out in pain, clutching your head as you collapse to the ground.

What you saw in the mirror that caused you to react in a certain way was a person. They looked like you, but they’re not you. This person looks almost deranged, disheveled, and crazed. The faint humming in the bathroom slowly fades away as your ears start to ring. Once the ringing finally stops, you lie on the ground, trying to collect your thoughts and process what happened. 

A knock at the restroom door startles you.

“[Y/N]? Are you alright? You’ve been in there for an hour,” Lighter’s voice is muffled behind the door.

You slowly sit up, looking at the watch on your wrist. An hour? You swear that you’ve been in the restroom for less than fifteen minutes. Lighter knocks on the door again as you get off the ground, turning the faucet off.

You clear your throat. “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry for taking so long,” you answer, walking to the door and unlocking it.

When you open the restroom door, you and Lighter lock eyes. Immediately, his eyes start scanning you from head to toe out of habit. You look pale and frazzled, and your hair is a bit disheveled.

Lighter’s eyebrows furrow with worry. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Again, you nod in response to his question. You walk out of the restroom, fixing your clothes and hair to make yourself look presentable compared to what you looked like before exiting the restroom. An hour, Lighter said. You were in the restroom for that long? How is that even possible?

Wise approaches you. “Hey, are you okay? You were in the restroom for an hour and weren’t responding to anyone who was trying to get your attention.” Wise explains, staring at you with eyes that remind you of a neglected hamster. 

“Oh, it’s probably because I had the faucet running and it drowned out your voices. I didn’t want anyone hearing me doing my business,” you lie, rubbing the back of your neck with a sheepish smile. 

Billy walks up to you and throws his arm around your shoulders, chuckling. “Hey! It’s totally normal to feel a bit shy about dropping a log or two in a public restroom! Just don’t scare us like that next time, yeah?” Billy nudges you.

You can’t help but bury your face in your hands after Billy’s comment. You know what? Whatever it takes for them not to interrogate you over why you were in the restroom for more than fifteen minutes is good enough. Heck, even if they do interrogate you, you don’t know what to tell them because you have no idea what happened in the restroom at all.

Seth leans against the doorframe, still looking irritated as ever. “Since you took so long in the restroom, Jane and Zhu Yuan went to get something to eat. They’ll be back in thirty minutes.” Seth grumbles, huffing and puffing. 

Goodness, what in the world is up with him? You turn to look at Hugo, who, in return, shrugs. “I wouldn’t worry your pretty little head about him. Given his behavior, he may be in a rut,” Hugo comments, the corner of his mouth curving into a smirk. 

Seth sighs, running his hands through his hair. Before Seth can retort, Seth notices a change in your behavior. You rub your temples, eyes squeezed shut. You lean against Billy, legs beginning to feel like gelatin.

“Are you alright? You don’t look too good, sweetie,” Hugo murmurs, standing in front of you.

You don’t respond, still rubbing your temples. Hugo cups your face in his hands and tilts your head so he can get a better look at you.

You peek at Hugo, but the ceiling lights make it hard for you to look at him. You’re suddenly aware of many things around you. The light is too bright, the fan in the office is too noisy for your liking, Hugo’s leather glove feels a bit too leathery for your liking, but he smells really good. The chattering outside the office is loud—louder than it was when you entered the Public Security Office for the continuation of yesterday’s questioning conducted by Zhu Yuan and Jane Doe. 

“Uh, not to alarm anyone, but we need to get [Y/N] to sit down immediately or else they’re going to collapse,” Harumasa says.

You can hear urgency in his tone, and given ‌the tone of his voice, you don’t look too good. Anton scoops you in his arms without hesitation and carries you to the nearest chair. When Anton sits you down on the chair, you go limp in the chair, almost falling over if it weren’t for Anton. 

Billy runs his hands through his hair, pulling at the roots. “What’s going on!? What’s happening?! Why did they faint!?” Billy frantically asks, looking around to see if anyone knows the answer to his pressing questions.

Belle, Jane, Zhu Yuan, and Qingyi push through the crowd of men surrounding you. The men start to protest, refusing to leave your side as Jane holds your unconscious body up in the chair while Qingyi and Zhu Yuan check up on you.

Belle wrings her hands nervously. “I immediately went searching for Jane and Zhu Yuan after hearing that [Y/N] was unresponsive in the restroom for an hour,” Belle murmurs, peeking over Zhu Yuan and Qingyi’s shoulders to get a glance of you. 

“I’m sure [Y/N]’s fine. I’m assuming that it’s their body trying to readjust to being out of the Hollow after months, but who’s to say?” Zhu Yuan mutters, pressing her index and middle fingers against your neck, searching for a pulse.

Qingyi scans you from head to toe, trying to see if there’s anything off about you. “So far I’m seeing nothing…” she trails off, eyebrows furrowing. Qingyi freezes when she sees a faint glow on the back of your neck. “What is that?” she whispers.

Jane has you leaning on her, face buried in the crook of her neck as she brushes your hair aside, revealing the nape of your neck. Everyone stares at your neck closely, searching for whatever Qingyi saw. After what feels like forever, it happened. There’s this strange, colorful thing (?) that would pulse every now and then, spreading throughout your body before fading away.

“What in the world is that?” Wise whispers. 

Qingyi shakes her head. “I don’t know, but I have a feeling that it has to do with the Hollow and that it’s potentially life-threatening if we don’t figure out what it is and get rid of it fast.”

Note: Yes, I left it on a cliffhanger because I love them, and because I want it to be a mystery like how the reader's background is a mystery in this fic. This is my first ZZZ fic and I somewhat like it. I saw the lack of ZZZ content in fanfics (the last time I checked), and I wanted to give it a try after someone popped up in my inbox about it a while back. While the title of this fic has no huge significance, I do recommend looking up Eris on Google :) Again, the reader is gender neutral, but Eris has a meaning. My work schedule is going to be weird again, so it might take some time for me to be able to type something out and update ;v; Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist: No taglist for this update :) will make a new one in the future.

Read more of my works on my Grand Masterlist, which contains every masterlist I have created! | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories there, too, but who knows? You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[twstedfreak]

Seeing Stars

Pairings: Various Honkai Star Rail Men x Isekai'd!Reader (Nanook x Isekai'd!Reader)

Summary: Your and Nanook's intimate moment was interrupted by your Astral Express traveling companions. Caelus spots a hickey on your neck, you make a poor excuse regarding that hickey, and all of a sudden, you find Nanook balls deep inside you. Needless to say, Nanook is called the Aeon of Destruction for a reason. And that reason isn't because of destroying the universe, but because he's going to be destroying your insides.

Note: First (horribly written) smut for Honkai Star Rail >:D I don't know how to feel about the smuts I write— I'm not a fan of the smuts I write, but I hope this is at least a tiny bit decent. For those who are new, I tried to keep the smut as gender-neutral as possible, but this smut does lean more toward AFAB!reader/female-bodied reader. All of my smuts do lean towards female!reader/AFAB!reader with gender-neutral pronouns. As usual, minors DO NOT INTERACT! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Horribly written smut, oral (both receiving), deep throating, fingering, hair pulling, biting, tummy bulge, Nanook's got a big dick (are we surprised? No), cervix fucking, creampie, slight overstimulation, squirting (Nanook is called the Aeon of Destruction for a reason ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°))

Word Count: 7k

You wake up to feeling someone snake their arms around your waist, pulling you against their chest. You crack one eye open and peek at the clock hanging above the door. You rub your eyes and stretch your arms and legs while yawning. A deep chuckle breaks the silence of your bedroom, causing you to jolt and turn to look at the person lying beside you. Nanook is propped up on his left arm, gazing at you with amusement.

“Why are you awake so early?” Nanook asks, peeking at the clock.

You stare at Nanook sleepily. Nanook looks away from the clock, and the two of you lock eyes for a moment. Aeons above… Nanook is so breathtaking. Nanook lies beside you with a soft groan, wrapping his right arm around your waist and bringing you to his chest. You instinctively wrap your arms around his slim waist and bury your face into the nape of his neck.

You sigh. “I can ask you the same. It’s early in the morning, and yet you’re over here, watching me sleep like a creep,” you joke, poking Nanook’s shirtless chest with your pointer finger. 

Nanook chuckles and tightens his grip around your waist, kissing the side of your head. You close your eyes and slowly drift to sleep. As you’re falling asleep, the door to your room slides open. You groan to yourself and continue to keep your face buried in Nanook’s neck. Whoever slides the door open, you’re hoping they’ll leave soon.

“March, if it’s you, please let me and Nanook sleep in peace. It’s still early in the morning, and I want to sleep in before it’s early afternoon,” you say, your voice muffled against Nanook’s neck.

The person, you assume is March, huffs before stomping out of your room and sliding the door close. You peek from Nanook’s neck to see the bedroom is empty. You look at Nanook, who sighs and rests his head on the stacks of pillows. At least you and Nanook are alone, and March isn’t going to try to drag you out of your room at the crack of dawn. You stare at the Aeon of Destruction lying beside you. Nanook raises an eyebrow at you, the corner of his lips curving up into a smirk.

Nanook leans in and kisses the corner of your lips. You close your eyes and wrap your arms around his shoulders as he cages you between his body and your bed. You peek to see his arms beside your head, his biceps bulging as he adjusts himself above you. You gulp audibly when you notice he’s shirtless. While you did poke his shirtless chest not long ago, you didn’t fully realize that the Aeon of Destruction was shirtless the entire time. “How in the world did you not notice?”

“Why are you so pretty? Who gave you permission to be this breathtaking?” You mutter as your eyes trail up from his abs to his face.

Nanook laughs and grips your chin with one hand while balancing his entire weight with the other arm. You and Nanook look into each other's eyes, not saying anything. Nanook looks down at your lips, his eyes half-lidded. You bite your bottom lip, closing your eyes when his face gets near. 

Nanook’s nose brushes against yours, shutting his eyes. Nanook presses his lips against yours, lowering himself onto you. You wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to you by wrapping one leg around his slim waist. Nanook breaks the kiss and begins pressing his lips on your jawlines. Nanook trails his lips from your jaws to your neck, kissing and lightly sucking on your neck.

You tangle your fingers in Nanook’s hair, tilting your head to the side to give him more space to leave small kisses and nibbles behind. Nanook kneels above you, slips his hands beneath your shirt, and gropes your chest.

“Fuck, Nanook,” you whisper, wrapping your other leg around his waist.

Nanook takes that as an opportunity to grind his groin against yours. You involuntarily squeeze your legs around his waist, whimpering when Nanook’s cock rubs against your aching entrance. You claw Nanook’s back as the Aeon continues to litter your neck with kisses. Nanook latches his lips against your neck, lightly sucking on your neck.

You run your fingers through his hair, rolling your hips against his. Nanook groans into your neck, his hands trailing from your chest to the globes of your ass, squeezing them tightly and making you grind your heat against his throbbing cock. You let out a quiet, strained gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head when Nanook’s pubic bone presses up against your swollen bundle of nerves.

Nanook cups your face from under your chin and tilts your head up. You stare at Nanook— eyes glazed over with pleasure and want. Nanook smirks and pecks your lips. You pout at Nanook, getting ready to protest about him stopping, when there’s a knock at the door. You and Nanook freeze in your spots, slowly looking at the door like a deer caught in headlights.

You clear your throat. “March?” You call out.

“It’s Dan Heng. Did I wake you up by any chance?” Dan Heng asks through the closed door of your room.

“No, you didn’t wake me up. But what you did do is ruin the chance of me getting fucked deep into my mattress by the Aeon of Destruction, that’s what.” You think bitterly to yourself while Nanook cracks a smile beside you. Dan Heng clears his throat from behind the door as if he’s letting you know he’s waiting for your response. You shake your head as Nanook gets off you, lying beside you with one arm tucked underneath his head.

You sit up and rub your eyes with your knuckles. “Not really. March snuck into my room a moment ago, and I told her to let me sleep in. Did something happen?” You ask, pulling the blanket up to your chest.

“Uh, yes, we were wondering if Nanook is in the room with you. Caelus mentioned he peeked into Nanook’s room, only to see it was empty, and he speculated that Nanook snuck into your room,” Mr. Yang speaks up from behind the door.

Your eyes widen, and your head snaps in Nanook’s direction. Nanook looks unbothered as he settles in your bed with his hands behind his head. March went into your room not long ago, and she didn't tell any of the three men about Nanook being in your room? Either she's up to something, or she didn't mention it to the men because she forgot. You clear your throat, looking over at Nanook. The Aeon of Destruction shrugs his shoulders, closing his eyes and rolling over on his side to wrap his arms around your waist.

How are you supposed to answer Mr. Yang's question!? It's not like you're banned from sleeping in the same bed as Nanook, right? You open your mouth to answer Mr. Yang's question, but all of a sudden, Nanook gets off your bed and walks to the door. Your eyes widen, and you kneel, attempting to grab Nanook's wrist, but he slips from your fingers. Nanook grabs the door and slides it open, leaning against the doorframe.

“And there he is,” Caelus comments, propping his hands on his hips while staring at the Aeon blankly. 

Nanook raises his eyebrows at Caelus, who continues to stare at him expressionless. You toss your blanket off your body and stumble over to where the four men are standing. You can feel the awkward tension between them— especially between Caelus and Nanook. You clear your throat to break the awkward tension.

“Is there a reason why you were searching for Nanook? Did something happen?” You ask, scratching the back of your neck.

Mr. Yang smiles and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Nothing happened. However, Caelus has voiced his concern over Nanook constantly disappearing in the middle of the night,” replies Mr. Yang.

Caelus looks away, clearing his throat. Caelus' cheeks and the tips of his ears are almost as red as Himeko's hair, only a couple of shades lighter. You chuckle while Nanook raises his eyebrows at the silver-haired man before you two. Nanook turns to you, giving you an exasperated look before turning to the three men outside of your bedroom.

Nanook pinches the bridge of his nose. “Listen, when I decided to take the form of a human, I did it to protect my little star, alright? I did not sign up to have people hovering over me and watching my every move,” Nanook states, crossing his arms over his chest while glaring at the trio.

Dan Heng, Caelus, and Mr. Yang all stare at Nanook. Nanook sighs, turns to you, and wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you toward him. You wrap your arms around his waist, rubbing the small of Nanook's back to comfort him. You're aware of how the other men act around you, but you don't think much about it. However, Nanook isn't fond that there are nine other people who share the same sentiments as he does when it comes to you, his little star, his little one.

“Do you not remember what happened prior to your arrival to the Astral Express, Nanook, Aeon of Destruction?” Dan Heng demands, crossing his arms over his chest while glaring at the towering figure beside you.

Nanook glares at the shorter man, his nostril flaring. “I am very well aware of what happened. Why do you think I am here?” The Aeon snarls.

By this point, Nanook and Dan Heng are standing toe to toe— Nanook glaring down and Dan Heng glaring up at the Aeon. Mr. Yang and Caelus place their hands on Dan Heng's shoulders, pulling him back. Dan Heng lets out an infuriated exhale through his nose, glaring to the side with his arms over his chest.

You clear your throat. “Nanook and I will get ready for the day now, alright? Let's talk after,” you say, turning away by is stopped by Caelus gently grabbing your biceps.

“Is that a hickey?” Caelus asks, his eyes zeroing in on the base of your neck.

You quickly cover your neck, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. “Oh, fuck.” You did not know that the Aeon of Destruction left a hickey on your neck. You turn to Nanook, who looks away with his lips puckered. You narrow your eyes at Nanook, exhaling slowly through your nose while trying to remain calm. Great. First, there's tension between Nanook and Dan Heng, and now Caelus has decided to point out the apparent love bite on your neck, thus making the tension grow.

It's faint, but it's there. 

“It's not a hickey! I actually burnt myself with a hair straightener!” You say.

Okay, not the best excuse you can come up with, but it's the best you can do, and you're hoping they're dumb enough to believe your little white lie. But knowing the three men standing before you and Nanook, they're not as dumb as you hoped they would be in this situation. I mean, what else were you supposed to say? “Yes, it's a hickey on my neck. Nanook marked my neck, and before this entire interaction, we were so close to taking it farther, but that didn't happen?”

Mr. Yang leans forward to get a better look at your neck. He gently grabs you by the jaws and tilts your head to the side. If you weren't in an awkward situation right now, you would've been blushing like a teenager because of the way Mr. Yang grabbed your jaws. He's so gentle, but he also reminds you of a stern father who caught his kid doing something naughty. 

“It doesn't look like a burn,” Mr. Yang murmurs.

You grab Mr. Yang's hands and laugh nervously. “That’s because they're kind of new! I borrowed Himeko's straightener, and well, this happened,” you say, gesturing to the mark on your neck.

You release Mr. Yang's hand and rub the hickey. Aeons, this is even more awkward than you thought. Mr. Yang hums, crossing his arms over his chest, and looks at Dan Heng and Caelus. Just as you feared, Caelus, Dan Heng, and Mr. Yang don't believe your little white lie.

For now, the best thing you can do is to retreat to your room (with Nanook), get ready for the day, and hope that this entire situation dies down. You quickly retreat to your room, grabbing Nanook by the wrist and pulling him with you. Before you shut the door in Mr. Yang, Dan Heng, and Caelus' faces, you give them a fake smile.

“We'll talk about this after Nanook and I get ready for the day! While it's still super early in the morning, today will be the only day I get up early,” you say, slamming the door shut without waiting for their response. 

After you slam the door in the three men's faces, Dan Heng turns to look at Mr. Yang with a deep frown. Caelus pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, propping his hands on his hips.

“That is definitely a hickey on [Y/N]'s neck,” Caelus says.

Dan Heng rolls his eyes. “Do they think we're that stupid to believe they were burned by a hair straightener?” Dan Heng mutters, walking away with Mr. Yang and Caelus following.

Back in your bedroom, you walk to your dresser and pull out clean undergarments to change into after taking a shower. You're not the type to take showers in the morning, but this time will be the only time you'll shower in the morning. Well, “morning” since you're traversing through space, and there's no time of day, really. While searching for something to wear in your closet, Nanook snakes his arms around your waist and buries his face into the nape of your neck.

You close your eyes and rest your head against his before continuing to do what you were doing.

You're not sure what you want to wear. You're on the fence about whether you want to wear something short and breathable or long and warm because there's a possible chance the Astral Express is going to be stopping by Jarilo-VI. You blank out for a moment when Nanook's big, warm, calloused hands sneak under your shirt to give your chest a light squeeze. 

“Well, aren't you needy today?” You murmur, gazing at the Aeon of Destruction from the corner of your eyes.

Nanook ignores your comment, continuing to squeeze your chest and kissing your neck repeatedly. You shiver when Nanook presses his lips against a specific sensitive spot on your neck. Nanook smirks against your neck and continues where he left off before he is interrupted by Dan Heng, Caelus, and Mr. Yang. Nanook grabs the bottom of your jaw with his right hand, tilts your head to the side, and continues to nibble on your neck.

“Do you have any idea how irresistible you are?” Nanook murmurs against your neck.

You grab his hand from underneath your shirt and lace your fingers with his. “I could say the same with you. You're over here parading around my bedroom shirtless with your sweat pants hanging very low around your hips,” you reply.

Nanook hums against your neck, breathing in the smell of your shampoo. Nanook's eyes nearly roll to the back of his neck after taking deep breaths of your shampoo. He can never get enough of you, and the more he has to wait, the more he feels his sanity slipping away. Without thinking, Nanook opens his mouth wide and bites down on the area where your neck and shoulders meet. 

“Ah! Nanook!” You whine softly, shuddering in his arms as he manhandles you to your bed.

You fall limp in Nanook's arms as he practically drags you to your bed and tosses you like a rag doll. You stare at the ceiling— Nanook's shadow casts over you as he hovers above you, knees on each side of your hips. You gulp as the Aeon of Destruction cages you against your bed, his bangs nearly covering his eyes. Oh, you like this very much.

Nanook leans down, his lips beside your ear. “What is it, little one?” Nanook whispers.

You close your eyes, heart pounding against your chest as the Aeon above you softly nudges his nose against your cheek and slowly trails down to your neck. Never in your life would you think the Aeon of Destruction has a lot of pent-up frustrations. Can Aeons have babies? Can they reproduce? Nanook's human form certainly has a dick, but does it— Nanook bites down on your neck for the second time.

“You know I can hear your thoughts, right?” Nanook murmurs against your neck.

Your eyes snap open, and you look at Nanook like a fish out of water. Nanook pulls away from your neck and wipes his lips, smirking down at you. You gaped at him. 

“Wait, you can hear my thoughts?”

Nanook nods, his shoulders bouncing as he gazes at you with amusement. “Yes, I can hear your thoughts. Did you happen to forget that we're connected with each other?” Nanook asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

You squint at Nanook, not sure whether you should believe what he's saying or not. Maybe you can say something random, and he'll have to respond to your questions. The Aeon of Destruction mindlessly massages your hipbone, waiting for you to say something. Or at least think of something so he can reply. Aside from wanting you to respond to him, Nanook wants to fuck you against the mattress already. Blood continues to rush down to his semi-harden cock as he waits (im)patiently. 

You stare at Nanook like a deer caught in headlights. If you were to ask this question, would he hear it and possibly humiliate you for it? It’s worth a shot. “Do you know how bad I need you to fuck me into the mattress right now? I desperately need you inside me, or else I'll go crazy.”

Nanook smirks and leans down. “Is that so? You don't have to tell me twice, Little One. I've always wanted to hear what I can coax out of you while you're writhing beneath me,” Nanook murmurs. “Remember that dream of yours a while back?” He latches his lips onto your earlobes, lightly biting your ear.

Dream? Meaning the wet dream you had of Nanook before it was rudely interrupted by March, Dan Heng, and Caelus? The very same wet dream where it felt so real that it made you question whether it was a real thing or just a dream? You swallow the lump in your throat, sputtering out nonsense as you try to wrap your head around the wet dream you had months prior to Nanook's arrival.

“Wait, was that a dream, or was it mental communication the entire time?” You ask breathlessly.

Nanook shrugs above you, hands sneaking back under your shirt to squeeze your chest and tweak your nipples between his thumb and index finger. You gaze at the Aeon above you, wondering if what happened between you and Nanook was mental communication or if it was just another wet dream.

“Nanook?” You ask, lightly tugging on his soft hair.

Nanook snorts and releases your earlobe from between his teeth. The Aeon of Destruction will be destroying something else rather than the entirety of the universe. You would rather have Nanook destroy your insides than the universe, so you'd like to think you're saving everyone by letting the Aeon of Destruction become the Aeon of Destroying your insides. With one swift motion, Nanook tears your shirt off and tosses them to the ground.

Your nipples harden when cool air makes contact with your nipples, sending shivers down your spine. Nanook's lips trail down to your chest and suck on your nipple while tweaking the neglected nipple. You shudder underneath Nanook, wrapping your legs around his waist while he licks and lightly bites your nipples. You cover your mouth to muffle the moans, and Nanook doesn't like that. Without thinking, Nanook bites down on your nipple hard, making you cry out in pain.

“Nanook! Why did you bite my nipple?” You whine, gazing at the Aeon with teary eyes.

Nanook unlatches his lips from your nipples before sitting back on your bed. “I don't want you to cover your moans. I want the others to hear that I'm the one that's making you moan and whimper,” Nanook says, frowning at you.

You gulp and watch Nanook get off your bed and start taking his sweatpants off. You look away with embarrassment when you notice a prominent bulge beneath his boxers. It's bigger than you thought it would be. The Aeon grabs you by your ankles and pulls you toward the edge of your bed. You look at Nanook's face, making sure not to look down at the large tent forming in his pants.

Nanook chuckles, caressing your face. “Why are you suddenly shy, Little one? You were so bold and now look at you,” Nanook teases, lightly pinching your cheek. “A shy little thing.”

You bristled at Nanook's comment, looking at the Aeon with a heated glare. Unphased by your glare, Nanook laughs and leans down to kiss your lips. Nanook hooks his fingers around the band of your shorts and panties before looking at you, waiting for you to give him the signal to continue. Despite being the Aeon of Destruction, he sure is gentle. You nod, silently telling him to strip you bare. 

One minute you have your pants and panties on. The next, you're completely bare in front of the Aeon of Destruction. You quickly cover your naked body with your blanket, making Nanook click his tongue with disapproval. Nanook grabs the blanket from your grasp, yanks it off your bare body, and throws it behind him without breaking eye contact. Heat rushes to your cheek when you realize the Aeon before you are gazing at your body with hunger and lust. As if Nanook wasn't big already, you could've sworn Nanook's dick grew in his boxers.

“It's not fair that I'm the only one naked, and you're still semi-dressed,” you mutter.

Nanook takes his eyes off your body before gesturing for you to sit up. You push yourself up and look at Nanook quizzically as he grabs your hand and places them on his hips. You blink at him as he looks down at you, waiting for you to do something. You clear your throat, pointing at his boxers and then at yourself.

“You want me to take your boxers off?” You squeak.

Nanook smirks. “What else would I want you to do? Hm?” Nanook coos, squeezing your cheeks.

You feel a lump forming in your throat. You gulp for the umpteenth time and nod, grabbing the band of Nanook's boxers and sliding his underwear down. Immediately, Nanook's cock slaps his abdomen, startling you. Nanook's boxers pool at his ankles, and he steps out of them, making his dick bob up and down with the slightest movement. You stare at Nanook's cock with wide eyes, mouth agape. Huge is an understatement at this point. This man is undoubtedly the Aeon of Destruction because you know Nanook's cock is going to be destroying your insides.

“That's not going to fit,” you state, looking at Nanook.

Nanook shrugs, hooking one arm underneath your knees and the other under your back before tossing you on the bed. Nanook crawls over you and slides his hands up your legs and to your thighs, pushing your legs apart to look at your glistening folds. You're too busy staring at Nanook's cock. The mushroom tip of his dick is a deep red, pre-cum beating at the silt of his cock, dripping down the base of his dick. You lick your lips. 

Nanook runs his hands through his hair. “We'll make it fit,” Nanook states.

Nanook dips his fingers and runs them through your folds, making you shudder and gasp. Nanook inserts his index finger into your entrance, looking at your face for a certain reaction. You bite your lips and squeeze your eyes shut when his index finger continues to sink into your sopping-wet entrance. Nanook keeps your legs spread open with one hand as he continues to drill his index finger in and out of your squelching hole. 

“This is so embarrassing,” you whine softly, becoming flustered the louder the squelching gets.

You let out a shaky gasp when Nanook inserts his middle finger into your entrance. The velvety walls of your entrance squeezed and pulsed around his thick, long fingers. 

“Your body is reacting really well to what I'm doing,” Nanook murmurs, watching you gasp and arch your back when the tip of his fingers hit your cervix.

You grit your teeth and reach for Nanook's throbbing cock. Nanook rubs the bundle of nerves with the tip of his thumb, watching you let out a breathy moan and throw your head back with pleasure as you stroke his cock. Nanook groans, letting you stroke his stiff cock. The Aeon watches you stroke and squeeze his cock, rubbing your thumb over the bulbous tip of his cock and spreading the pre-cum around the tip of his dick.

While Nanook continues to finger you and stroke the engorged nub, you sit up to get a taste of his cock. Nanook looks at you quizzically when you sit up, unsure of what you're doing. You latch your lips around the mushroom tip of his cock, licking the pre-cum and briefly sucking on the head of his dick. Taken aback, Nanook moans and curls his fingers inside your entrance, making you jolt and squeeze around his fingers.

You begin bobbing your head on his cock, taking him deeper into your mouth. Nanook's fingers slip out of your entrance before tangling his fingers into your hair, tugging at the roots, moaning, and pushing your head further down on his cock. You nearly gag when the tip of his cock hits your throat. You wrap your fingers around the base of his dick, stroking the base of his cock while fondling and massaging his balls.

Nanook groans and starts thrusting into your mouth, fucking your face while tangling his fingers in your hair. His steady thrusts soon become fast, feeling his cock reach deeper into your throat. Nanook guides your head up and down his cock repeatedly until your nose is pressing up against his pubes. You dig your nails into his ass cheeks, tears brimming your eyes and rolling down your cheeks when his cock hits your throat. 

You take deep breaths through your nostrils, trying not to gag. Nanook pulls his cock out from your mouth and pushes you on your back, and spreads your legs wide open for him to see your slick entrance. You breathe heavily, wiping the tears on the sides of your cheeks while Nanook rubs the engorged bundle of nerves with his index finger. 

“Are you alright?” Nanook asks, looking at you as he continues to rub the nub between your legs.

You nod, sniffling. “Yeah, I'm alright,” you reply meekly.

Nanook hums before tossing both your legs over his shoulders with his face a few inches from your heat. You gulp, combing your fingers through Nanook's soft hair. Nanook pulls you forward and buries his face into your entrance, his tongue flat on your entrance and lapping up your juices. You throw your head back, and your back arches, thighs clamping over his head as the Aeon of Destruction eat you out like a starving man. You cover your mouth with your other hand, whimpering and panting against the palm of your hands.

Nanook swirls his tongue over your entrance, your bundle of nerves messily. The sounds of your muffle moans and Nanook slurping your juices fills your bedroom. Nanook penetrates your heat with his tongue, and the tip of his nose presses against your swollen nub. Nanook shakes his head, thrusting his tongue in and out of your heat, making you squeal.

“Oh, fuck, Nanook!” You gasp, feet planted on his shirtless back as the Aeon of Destruction continues to tongue-fuck you, bringing you close to your orgasm. “Nanook, fuck. I'm going to cum if you continue to do that!”

Nanook pulls away from your sopping-wet heat and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Nanook crawls up to you, his arms caging you against the mattress. Nanook stares down at you, a sense of pride swelling in his chest when he sees the effect he has on you. Your eyes are glazed over with lust, and your mouth is agape while your chest is heaving with deep breaths. Nanook taps your cheek lightly to grab your attention. You look at Nanook with hazy eyes, taking gulps of air.

Nanook snickers and leans down, pressing his lips against yours. You close your eyes and wrap your arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss. You taste yourself on Nanook's tongue— the tanginess pooling on your tongue as you and Nanook kiss. While distracted, Nanook grabs his throbbing cock and rubs the underside of his dick between your legs, coating his cock in your essence. 

The bulbous tip of his cock lightly brushes against your aching nub, causing you to hiss softly and shudder underneath him. Nanook pulls from the kiss and looks down as he lines the mushroom tip of his cock in front of your entrance. You lick your lips, lift your head to see what he's doing. Nanook presses the hot tip of his dick against your entrance. You gulp and look at Nanook, who's staring at you intently.

Nanook kisses your forehead. “Are you ready?” Nanook murmurs against your forehead.

You nod in response. After getting your confirmation, Nanook takes a breath and pushes the tip into your heat. You suck in a sharp breath when you feel the mushroom tip breaching your entrance, squeezing your eyes shut.

A deep growl emits from Nanook's chest as he sinks his cock into you. Nanook rests on his forearms as you wrap your legs around his waist. Nanook latches his teeth onto your neck, inching his cock into you slowly. Your velvety walls squeeze and pulse around his throbbing cock, driving Nanook crazy. You pant, digging your nails into his back and clawing Nanook's back, leaving angry marks behind.

The tip of Nanook's cock hits something deep inside you, causing you to tense up and wail meekly. Nanook pants looking down to see he didn't sink all the way into your warm entrance. Nanook almost sunk the entirety of his cock into your sopping entrance, but the bulbous tip of his cock hit something. Your thighs tense around Nanook's waist, legs trembling from your walls stretching around Nanook's dick to accommodate his size. 

“Nanook,” you whisper.

Nanook frowns, eyebrows furrowing. Nanook thrusts forward, trying to fit the entirety of his cock inside you, only for it not to work. Nanook leans down and preppers your face with gentle kisses. You pant against Nanook's neck, tears brimming your eyes each time the tip of his dick nudges your cervix. It hurts like a bitch, but it feels so fucking food. Nanook whispers a soft, ‘I'm sorry, Little one’ into your ears. You open one eye to look at Nanook, unsure of why he's apologizing.

Your eyelids fly open when Nanook grips your pillow tightly, ramming his cock all the way into your tight entrance. You wail and flail beneath Nanook, legs wrapping around his waist tightly as you whimper into his chest. Nanook groans and presses his hips hard against your hips, his nails digging into your pillow.

“A-Ah! N-Nanook!” You squeak, face contorting in pain.

Nanook pants, peeking down at you. You gaze at Nanook, tears in your eyes, bottom lips trembling. Nanook feels something stir within him when he sees you underneath him, naked, tearing up, stuffed full with his cock. Nanook's cock twitches inside you as he gulps. Nanook leans down and presses his lips against yours, wiping away the tear making its way down your cheek.

You involuntarily clench around Nanook's throbbing cock. Nanook hisses and pulls away from your lips, closing his eyes while trying to keep his sanity intact, or else he'll lose control. Nanook buries his hands in your hair, gently pulling your hair and tilting your head to the side to lightly nibble on your neck.

“Little one, you're so tight. Try to relax for me, sweetheart,” Nanook grunts into your neck. 

Nanook unlatches his lips from your neck before clenching his jaws as he tries to hold back the urge to fuck you into your mattress until you scream. You pant, digging your nails deep into Nanook's back as you try to take your mind off the fact Nanook shoved the entirety of his huge cock deep into your entrance. Fuck. Your swollen bundle of nerves is throbbing, and you feel your entrance becoming wetter with each passing minute.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and try to relax. How does one relax when you have a huge cock stuffing your hole? Nanook reaches down and begins rubbing your aching bundle of nerves with his thumb. You shudder in his arms, letting Nanook tweak your throbbing nub. Nanook kisses the side of your head, feeling you relax underneath him. You swallow the lump in your throat, patting his arm.

“You can move now, Naook,” you whisper.

Nanook nods and slowly pulls his cock out from your sopping-wet entrance, leaving just the tip of his cock inside you. Nanook gazes at his cock— it's soaked in your essence. Nanook glances at your puffy entrance; it's glistening in your juices. Nanook swears he sees your entrance pulsating with want. Nanook thrusts into your heat without warning, making you grunt and tense underneath him, your hands shooting up to grip your pillow. Dear, Aeons. You feel so full. Nanook looks down at your stomach and freezes. You look at Nanook quizzically before following where his eyes are focusing on. You look at your stomach to see a bulge. With shaky hands, you poke the bump and jolt. Nanook places his hand over yours and presses down onto your stomach. You let out a needy moan as pleasure shoots up your body. Oh, fuck. Nanook is so big that his cock created a tummy bulge.

Nanook leans down, his hair tickling your cheeks. “What do you want me to do to you?” Nanook murmurs against your ears. “Say it, and I will do as you say.”

You shiver and clench around his cock, making the Aeon above you groan and squeeze your chest. What you need Nanook to do is to fuck you until you see stars dancing behind your eyelids. You want him to fuck you into your mattress until your walls mold into the shape of his dick. You whimper and close your eyes, heat rushing to your cheeks as you think about having to beg for the Aeon of Destruction to destroy your insides and fill you to the brim with his cum.

“I want you to…” you trail off, whimpering at the slightest movement. “I want you to fuck me until I can't walk and…”

Nanook's eyes widen slightly before laughing breathlessly. “Oh? There's more?” Nanook jokes, rubbing the tip of his nose against your cheek, rutting his hips against yours. 

You cover your face and lightly hit his shoulder. “Nanook! Stop teasing me!” You whine.

“Alright, alright, I'm going to stop teasing you,” Nanook sighs, kissing your forehead. “Now, continue where you left off.”

You try to form coherent sentences, but the more Nanook ruts against you, the more your mind blanks out. You wrap your legs tightly around Nanook's waist, attempting to stop him from continuing, only for you to press Nanook hard against you. Nanook snickers and kisses your jaws, waiting for you to tell him what you want him to do.

“Gosh, just please fuck me until I see stars. I don't think I can wait any longer,” you whisper.

Nanook's chest rumbles with laughter, and he leans down. “If you insist,” Nanook says, kissing the corner of your lips.

Nanook adjusts his position above you, grabs your legs, and unwraps them around his waist. You look at Nanook, confused. Nanook throws your legs over his shoulders and begins plunging his cock in and out of you repeatedly. You yelp and grab his biceps, squeezing your eyes shut as the Aeon pistons his cock into your sopping entrance. You feel your juices pool beneath your bed, spreading to the back of your thighs and onto Nanook's pubes.

Your toes curl with pleasure, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as Nanook rams the tip of his cock against your cervix until you can't hold in your moans any longer. You let out a string of groans and curses, feeling a tight knot beginning to form in your lower abdomen. You clench your jaws when your legs start to feel tingly and numb. You close your eyes and rock your hips against Nanook's hips, his pubic bone pressing and rubbing against your swollen nub.

You shiver, and your velvety walls squeeze around the Aeon's dick. “Oh, fuck,” you whisper, clawing Nanook's back.

Nanook tangles his hands into your hair and pulls your hair back before biting down on your neck hard. You cry out in pain and clench around Nanook's cock as he continues to ram his dick in and out of your squelching entrance vigorously. You can see stars dancing behind your vision with each thrust. You tilt your head back against your pillow as tears trail down your cheeks. You don't know how much longer you can handle being fucked by Nanook. Nanook removes your legs from his shoulders, keeping your legs spread open as he pistons his cock deep into your quivering entrance. Nanook pulls his dick out, leaving only the tip inside before slamming back into your heat. Your back arches, and you choke out a moan as the Aeon repeats his actions. Nanook's thrusts soon become sloppy the longer he continues to ram the bulbous tip of his cock in and out of your dripping entrance. You claw your bedsheets, the knot in your lower abdomen becoming incredibly tight.

“Fuck, Nanook. I'm going to cum,” you whimper.

Your velvety walls squeeze around Nanook's cock tightly. Nanook groans and collapses on top of you as you cum around his cock. Nanook takes a deep breath before proceeding to plunge his thick, long cock in and out of your squelching heat. Nanook reaches for your engorged nub and begins pinching, squeezing, and rolling it between his thumb and index finger. Your eyes widen, and you squeal loudly, squirming beneath Nanook.

“It's too much, Nanook! It's too much!” You sob.

Nanook ignores your cries and continues to stimulate your engorged bundle of nerves while plunging his cock into you as deeply as he can get it. Nanook groans, shooting hot ropes of cum deep inside your entrance as the walls of your hole convulse around his dick. Liquid jets out your entrance, wetting Nanook's lower abdomen and pubes. Nanook gazes at you with wide eyes while you continue to tremble due to overstimulation.

Nanook releases your swollen nub and slowly pulls his cock from your entrance. Nanook groans and lays beside you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you to his chest. You shudder and close your eyes while your legs continue to tremble. Nanook tucks your hair behind your ears, nibbling on your earlobe as he pulls the blanket over your naked bodies.

“Did you see the stars?” Nanook teases.

You look at Nanook with bleary eyes. “I think I saw something else other than stars,” you whisper.

You snuggle up against Nanook, closing your eyes. Nanook runs his fingers through your hair while you feel yourself start to drift off to sleep. Right when you're about to fall asleep, a knock is heard at the door of your bedroom. Your eyelids fly open, and you hold the blanket to your chest. You look at Nanook like a deer caught in headlights while the Aeon of Destruction yawns and peeks at the door, uninterested.

“Who is it?” You call out, clearing your throat.

“Are you two done with fucking each other's brains out? You've been keeping us waiting for a while,” Sampo whines from behind the door.

You sit up and look at Nanook in horror while the Aeon presses his lips into a thin line to prevent himself from bursting out laughing. You lightly smack Nanook's shoulders, cheeks flaming hot as you try not to freak out. Us?! What does Sampo mean by ‘us’!? Does this mean that other people heard you and Nanook fuck?! 

You toss the blanket over your head. “Who's at the door with you, Sampo? And how long have you guys been standing there?” You ask.

“Uh... Blade, General Jing Yuan, Luocha, Luka, and Gepard are also here with me. Mr. Yang, Caelus, and Dan Heng told us you were getting ready, but he didn't tell us that you and the Aeon of Destruction were getting freaky with each other,” Sampo says nonchalantly.

Luka laughs from behind the door. “I can see why he's called the Aeon of Destruction now,” Luka jokes.

You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face into Nanook's bare chest. Can someone please end your misery?

"Do you guys think we'll get our turns next?" Sampo whispers.

Nanook raises his eyebrows at Sampo’s question. You peek your head out from underneath the blanket, hoping it won’t be very awkward after you and Nanook take a shower and show up at the Parlor Car. More importantly, you really hope the others don’t tell Mr. Yang, Dan Heng, and Caelus about what they heard.

Note: Not going to lie, I liked the first half of this fic, and toward the end is where I started feeling iffy about the smut. I don't know about you guys, but I think I have created a new headcanon lore of Nanook's title of being the Aeon of Destruction. Nanook is the Aeon of Destroying Insides, that's for sure. I'm okay with this smut— I think the PDA is cute, and the teasing. But overall, I think it's a meh smut (or maybe just horribly written, but whatever). Nanook got the majority of the vote— about over 200 votes. [This part is copied and pasted from the previous fanfic regarding the Discord server] For those who want to join the Discord server but weren't able to, here is the new temporary link to [Zhongli's Abode]! Please make sure to read the server rules— you can lurk, chat and hang out on the server if you'd like! If you don't vibe with the server, you can leave whenever you want ^^ To my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for the HSR one-shot series: @ashwasherelol, @mompt2, @elegantnightblaze, @lunavixia, @jadedist, @reversearrowhead, @pinksaiyans, @n8mareee, @aurelia-xyt, @lilliansstuff, @starrry-angel, @kaoyamamegami, @kodzuvk, @a-cosmicdawn, @theblades, @wntrsblvd, @raaawwwr, @immahuman, @irisxiel, @siaracarroll, @crazydreamcat, @sen-nes, @sagekun, @orichalcumthief, @dyingsweetmackerel, @rosiesareblue, @ichikanu, @asoulsreverie, @angelmican, @misdollface, @4-34-am, @sxftiebee, @hispasian-otaku (Accounts that I was unable to tag are not tagged in this fic. Those who do not want to be tagged in a specific fic are not tagged. Remember to check your settings to see if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

Read more of my works on my Masterlist / Masterlist 2 | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[twstedfreak]

tourist trapped

one | two | three | four

dirty Myrtle is about to get flirty and filthy!

synopsis: what's currently on your summer itinerary? hot days and handsy nights on the sand and under the sheets, bikini-clad and slathered in sunscreen or soap. not getting stranded five hundred miles from your destination with the best friend of the guy you were supposed to be spending your vacation with. but when his car breaks down and you're stuck sharing the bed with Sukuna, you can't help but start to consider there might be more to him than tattoos and terrible music taste. who knows what sort of souvenirs you'll end up leaving with?

pairing: fwb's bsf!Sukuna x bratty!Reader

content: mdni, angst and fluff, beach and lunch, sexual tension, gojo mentioned (reader's fwb), unestablished relationships, messy dynamics, emotional hurt, comfort, forced proximity, in denial about feelings, one bed trope, putting sunscreen on each other, accidental public nudity, suggestive content, protective sukuna, yearning (he just doesn't know it yet)

part of this collab event with @lily-bisque hehe

"I hate the beach."

And you hated him.

But you'd rather spend your morning on the sand and by the sea pretending you picked this vacation then sprawled out on the shitty spring mattress watching reruns of shows you couldn't stand.

Last night was bad enough, elbowing Sukuna to fight for more room on the bed and restlessly turning while your brain refused to forget who you were laying next to. You didn't know how you managed to get more than an hour of sleep, or when you even dozed off, the sound of fireworks and cars passing by interrupting what little rest you did get through the thin walls.

You woke up trapped under one of his heavy limbs, a hand thrown haphazardly over your back, your attempts to wiggle free just causing his arm to twitch up, practically pressing your face into the pillow until you kicked him hard.

He grumbled something about sleeping in, just rolling away from you like you were irrelevant. Completely disregarding your complaints about him suffocating you and just going back to whatever someone like him dreamed about.

Apparently, he couldn't stand you even when he was asleep.

"Do you always have an attitude?" You grumbled, setting your bag down and laying out a towel. He had somehow refrained from bitching during the walk down to the already packed beach, his jaw locked watching the screaming kids running into the tide. He'd actually been quiet most of the morning, silently seething and communicating through cold scowls until you tossed a bag of vending machine potato chips and a pair of swim trunks you snagged from his suitcase at him and told him to get ready.

"No." Sukuna scoffed at you now, and you had a feeling underneath his dark glasses, he was probably rolling his eyes too. He didn't elaborate on his lie though, just spreading out a towel for himself a full foot away from yours. You waited for him to lay down and get comfortable before you bent over to snag the sunscreen from your bag and wave it in front of him.

"You wanna put it on my back?" You asked, amused at the clench of his jaw when he pulled his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to stare at you.

His glare was cute.

Like a grumpy cat, with his dark eyes and furrowed brows focused on you like you'd stolen his food bowl or took his favorite toy from him. He didn't go to sit up, didn't budge an inch, just watched you. Slowly following your stare like a predator watches his prey. A future meal.

"Or I could ask someone else?" You sighed dramatically, turning away from him to dig your own sunglasses from your bag next, but by the time you were standing back up, glancing over your shoulder, he was pushing off the sand.

His eyes shifted up, but not fast enough.

Either staring at your ass - or his name above it.

"Just give it to me," he grunted, swiping it from your hand before you could go through the whole push-and-pull of teasing him about it.

He wasn't soft with it. No seduction attempts or sweet words whispered in your ear.

Just him tossing your hair to the side and squirting too much in his hand, roughly rubbing it in with broad strokes. His hands were rough. Calloused as he casually pushed his palms flat. Got all the spots you would've missed. You had a fleeting impression he'd done this before - but he didn't dignify you with an explanation.

Just pushed the sunscreen back into your hand when he was finished, frowning as he went back to laying on his towel.

"Thanks," you wryly muttered, looking back at him.

A few stray strands of hair were sticking up, one of his forearms helping shield the sun from his face, bare chest and muscles highlighted by the warm rays. His swim trunks were red too, almost the same shade as yours, slung low on his hips, the hint of a happy trail sticking out.

You wondered if people walking past thought you were a couple.

If you were a stranger, just someone on the outside looking in, you probably would.

But the facts were simple.

Sukuna didn't like you. And you knew Gojo didn't either.

You put more sunscreen on your chest, massaging it in your arms and shoulders, dabbing it on your cheeks and nose. But your brain was on a different beach.

Thinking about the white-haired man probably lounging on pale sands and getting his cock sucked by some cute stranger in an even tinier bikini. You didn't have the right to be jealous. You were friends.

Sukuna had even said it. Gojo wasn't your boyfriend. You were just someone he liked to fuck - and you liked his special treatment.

He texted you like you were his girlfriend though, blowing up your phone half the night when you were still struggling to sleep, from apologies he only half-meant to begging for photos of you, promising he was waiting to get his dick wet when you were there.

You knew better than to believe him. Even if Sukuna thought you were just a lovestruck idiot.

So you hadn't replied. Let Gojo stew and squirm if he even cared.

"One hour," Sukuna grumbled.

"Two," you argued back.

"I'll leave you here," he gruffly replied, foot twitching as a toddler waddling by kicked up some sand on his calves.

You wondered if he really would. Couldn't fight the urge to poke and prod at him until he pushed you away. Stopping to stare at him for a long second before you popped the lid of the sunscreen back open and squirted a thick glob on his chest.

"What the f-"

You dropped the bottle and jogged across the sand to where the tide was coming in, halfway hoping he'd chase you.

But Sukuna didn't.

And you watched from the waves when he begrudgingly rubbed the sunscreen into his skin.

His legs might get burnt, but you still tried to help.

Didn't that count for something?

𓆝 𓆟

You were finished five minutes in.

But that would mean walking out and over to Sukuna and admitting you were ready to go back to the motel, that you were done getting battered by waves and listening to screeching children and watching wasted people stumble around throwing footballs and frisbees they couldn't catch.

The sun was uncomfortably hot, the kind that stuck to your skin even when you were in the water, like someone had put you on slow broil.

But Sukuna was just sunbathing, unbothered by everyone else. A few girls tried to come up and talk to him, but you didn't think he'd even grunted a single word back.

You couldn't help but empathize. You'd been in their shoes before. A guy like Sukuna only hurt your self-esteem.

His apathy. His disinterest. His disgust. Carefully designed to keep people as far away from him as possible.

You thought he'd be the kind of guy to get in the water, wade out deep enough to drown out the sound of the rest of the world. Splash any kids that dared to get close.

For all you knew, he'd rather be doing that right now - but he decided you were more annoying than the rest of them.

You did giggle when you watched a stray beach ball bounced off the sand and hit him in the face, nearly knocking his glasses off.

A teenager started running over, giggling too, but Sukuna grabbed a broken sea shell and popped it. You laughed even harder at that, covering your mouth and turning away before he could see or hear.

Someone tapped your shoulder not long later. You glanced over, pulling down your sunglasses just to see some other teenaged idiot. Wide-eyed, and sopping wet, shaggy hair hanging in his face.

"Is that your boyfriend?" He asked, jutting a thumb towards your unwilling companion.

"No," you shook your head, fighting an eye roll when he tried to sneak a peek at your cleavage. "But you're kind of young for me."

A rough wave hit your back, but even with the sound of it crashing, you could guess the next line would be something like saying he was eighteen or offering some other but that didn't mean much.

Except, that wasn't what happened.

No, you just felt some faint tug behind you, and before you could even fully turn, someone had pulled your flimsy bikini top off, yanking it hard right as you gasped and your hands shot up to cover up your tits. Another fresh out of high school or first-year frat boy, chuckling as he held it up high out of your reach.

The guy who had asked about your boyfriend was laughing now, and it took a few painfully panicked seconds for you to realize it was a stupid fucking set up.

He distracted you - and one of his friends snuck up to steal your top. And for what? A glimpse of your tits? To show off how big of dicks they were to the rest of their friends?

"Fucking assholes," you scoffed, but they were already swimming away, high-fiving each other and leaving you with the waves lapping over your chest, barely helping hide your breasts while you were stuck in place, feet sinking deeper into the sand.

A red flag being waved in the air, a trophy for them and a loss for you.

"Sukuna," you tried to call out, glancing around the busy beach in a panic. Shit.

He was still laid out in the sand, dark sunglasses concealing his eyes. From here, he looked asleep. You called out his name louder, but he didn't even twitch.

Goddamn it.

You begrudgingly started back, an arm around your tits, pressing them down and keeping them covered while you walked out of the water and up the shore.

You felt the stares. The eyes and pointing. Didn't need to look to know those pricks were probably taking pictures. But you tried to keep your head held high, only pausing when you reached Sukuna, kicking his foot as hard as you could.

"What's your prob-"

"I was calling your name," you hissed at him, and it was only then that he started to sit up and pull his sunglasses down, freezing the second he opened his eyes and saw you. "Some little assholes stole my top."

"Where the fuck are they?" He grunted, on his feet before you could blink.

You glanced back over in the direction they disappeared towards, but there wasn't a sign of them, and there were too many people passing by. When half of them were already staring at you, forming almost a wall of observers, you couldn't see past the strangers to spot the two you were searching for.

"They ran off," you sighed, looking down at your bag and grimacing at the realization you hadn't brought a coverup or even a t-shirt. Sukuna was grinding his molars, mumbling something under his breath before he was suddenly picking you up.

Like in the air.

Using one arm to hoist you high, like it was just that easy, your thighs automatically wrapping around his waist so he couldn't just let you go either. Your chest pressed against his to cover you up, grabbing your sandy towel and draping it over your back. He tossed your bag over his arm next, snatching his own towel up next.

Not even complaining about the fact you were soaking wet, or about how close you were like this, using his body to block the rest of the world from seeing your breasts.

You had half a mind to remind him that he could probably just have thrown the towel around your front, but he was acting on instinct - and his body heat was nice. His skin was warm, sun-baked, firm where yours was soft.

"Shitheads," he muttered under his breath.

He squeezed you closer right as someone nearly bumped against him. He spat out a 'watch out' but he didn't stop, his feet sinking into the sand as he tried to make it back up to the creaky old wooden stairs leading to the public lot.

It was still a five-minute walk back to the motel.

You kept waiting for him to drop you. To put you back down and make you walk the rest of the way.

But he didn't.

𓆝 𓆟

"So, um, how's your food?" You tilted your head to the side, swirling your straw around your drink across the table from him in some overpriced seafood joint.

Sukuna cracked open another crab leg.

"Fine."

No snappy comeback. No sarcastic eye roll. Just your leg bouncing underneath the table and an annoying glimmer in your eyes.

You'd been pissed at him last night. Did all it take to erase it was him doing the bare minimum in making sure you didn't get a public indecency charge?

Really, he'd rather just throw a towel at you and beat the shit out of whoever stole your bikini top, but something about the way you were looking at him made him stop. The water clinging to your skin, the anger burning underneath your eyes, no tears to be blinked back.

If you were sad, you saved it somewhere deep inside where it couldn't be seen.

But despite the shields and all that anger simmering on the surface, there was expectation in your stare, like you thought he'd save you.

Sukuna still couldn't fucking believe he obliged.

Let you take him here for lunch. Followed like your fucking dog on a leash when you suggested getting something to eat, even though his legs were now a faint shade of pink and his nose would probably be peeling tonight.

You had changed into a thin dress, not even wearing a bra, nipples poking through the thin fabric, the air conditioning unfortunately blowing right on the table they seated the two of you at.

He shouldn't look - but then again, he already felt them, hadn't he?

"What you did earlier, it was nice," you muttered awkwardly.

"Whatever," he dismissed. Like it was nothing.

Because it was nothing.

You nodded. Looked down at your plate. Looked at the other tables. Anywhere but him.

Until you went to reach for the drink and spilled it - all over him.

It was impressive, really. How it somehow managed to land solely on his shirt, your hand knocking over the glass in your attempt to grab it just because you were too stubborn to look at him.

"Shit, shit, shit," you mumbled, grabbing all the napkins and tossing it at them, already standing and searching for a waitress to get even more.

"Of course," he sarcastically sighed, peeling the drenched shirt away from his skin.

Of course this would happen. Of course even a fucking meal with you would go wrong.

That was how it went. How the rest of this stupid vacation would probably go.

He wanted to hate you. He did. But you were like an itch, a rash that wouldn't go away even if he scratched it.

You walked towards the front, in a rush, but it wasn't more napkins you came back with a few minutes later.

No, you were holding a t-shirt, giving him your best set of apologetic puppy dog eyes. "Here, you can change in the bathroom."

Sukuna wasn't stupid enough to miss the smirk you were trying to hide. He just didn't realize why until he actually went into a stall and unfolded it to see the words 'I GOT the CRABS' on the front and the stupid resteraunt logo on the back.

He should've let you walk back naked.

But he couldn't come up with something snarky to say, a stupid invisible string pulling tight in his stomach when he walked over to the now cleaned-up table to see a slice of cake waiting for him and a smile lighting up your face.

"Y'know, I was kinda hoping you'd walk out shirtless so we'd be even."

𓆝 𓆟

The motel shower made his sunburn worse.

It was terrible. The tiles were slippery. The drain was dirty. The exhaust fan stopped working randomly and there was a tiny rectangular window next to it that was stuck perpetually open. The jet was harsh, permanently set on the highest strength.

It pelted his skin, washing off the leftover soda and salt. But Sukuna was having a hard time cleaning you off.

Even right now, when you were in the other room, when you weren't around to demand or draw his attention, his brain - and his body - betrayed him.

Thinking of your tits pressed against his chest. Your skin, damp and soft and slick and fuck-

"Shit."

The hot water cut out, the freezing jet pricking at his skin as he cursed under his breath. He fumbled to turn the water off, twisting the handle as his erection unfortunately refused to go back down. Cock springing up against his abs as the water droplets rolled off him to drop onto the tile and down the drain with all the other suds.

An ache he wasn't used to had taken up residence underneath his skin, dragged nails down his conscience as he tried to think of anything other than you bending over in that fucking bikini on the beach, his name teasing him right above your ass.

Stupid fucking idea.

This whole thing was. Rooming with you. Going to the beach together. Lunch. He gritted his teeth, about to move the sliding glass door to step out when something jumped at him.

It happened fast, a sudden flurry of movement in the corner of his vision and he was stumbling out, nearly knocking out the fucking glass as he hurried out of the bathroom on instinct.

Naked.

You squealed, freezing at him nearly falling over himself into the bedroom, cock on full display and the exhaust fan still droning on.

"I was kidding," you deadpanned, but your eyes were the size of saucers, not-so-subtly staring at his dick before he dropped another fuck and grabbed the closest article of clothing to cover up.

"There's something in there," he scoffed, scowling as he picked up the stupid crab shirt and held it over his cock.

"A spider?" You asked, interest piqued. Dropping your phone down on the bed and walking over to him.

He had to step to the side, clenching his jaw at how casually your eyes traced over his body.

Was that how you looked at Gojo?

The shorts you had changed into had rolled up your thighs, your ass hanging out as you walked right into the bathroom, and an irritating tug strained his heart strings when you fucking laughed.

"This?" You giggled, coming back out with a small frog in your palm. Little fucker must have jumped in through the window.

"Shut up," he grunted.

But you never knew when to give up.

Got up on your tiptoes to hold it, and he recoiled, stepping back just for you to step forward. You wanted to chase him. He just couldn't decide if he wanted to let you.

Frowning at your attempts at teasing, tempted to push your hand away, but you followed him all the way back to the bed, holding the frog up higher.

"Come on," you taunted. "Kiss it."

Did Gojo never bother to fuck that bratty attitude out of you?

"You're the one looking for a prince," Sukuna mocked, but you didn't let it bother you today, didn't let your facade drop as you laughed and nearly brought the disgusting little creature up to his cheek.

Sukuna scoffed right as the frog jumped twice. On the bed and off the floor, back towards the direction of the bathroom.

You started to whine, sighing as your eyes followed where he hopped out of sight. But then your stare shifted back to Sukuna, or rather, what was still throbbing underneath the thin cotton of the shirt you'd bought him.

He shouldn't be hard. Not for you, at least. The second Gojo was around, you'd chose him anyway.

Your lips parted, about to say something. Ready to tease and taunt and remind him why he couldn't stand you when your phone vibrated on the bed and you changed your mind.

Biting your lip, your nose scrunching up as you sighed and looked towards your suitcase. "I, um, have some lotion. For your sunburn."

"I don't need any," he grunted.

"Don't be an idiot," you rolled your eyes. "Well, even more of one."

"You're insufferable," Sukuna retorted.

He only half meant it, but you nodded like you believed it.

"Put some on," you still insisted, as if you cared. "And get your wallet."