#Hsr drabble

[narumi-gens]

dreams aventurine x f!reader

18+ minors/blank/ageless blogs dni, 2.1 spoilers, pregnancy/parenthood

aventurine has never thought of himself as a man who dreams of the future, not beyond a certain point. but there's something about you that makes him doubt himself.

because when he looks at you, when he's near you, when he's inside you, he can't help himself. he thinks about what would happen if he didn't pull out and cum across your ass, your tits, or your stomach, painting your skin in white spurts like he usually does. he thinks about what would happen if he buried himself deep enough for you to feel him in your throat and spilled himself inside of you for once.

what if he didn't climb off of you as soon as he caught his breath. he thinks about what it would be like if he instead stayed there even as he softened, cradled between your thighs, while your arms wrapped around his trembling form to hold him close, your fingers gently running through his sweaty strands, your touch alone doing more to calm his mind than an orgasm ever could.

there are times when he allows himself to imagine beyond even that, but only in his weakest moments when he decides to spend the night, always under the pretense of the late hour, or the bad weather, or how comfortable the bed he bought you is. it's a pretense that you see through, but never challenge him on as you know that doing so would make him leave.

it's only once he's sure that you're deep asleep and he can turn his unguarded gaze to your features in the dark that he dares to let his mind wander beyond the bounds he normally sets. he imagines your stomach swelling as the months pass, of your hand grabbing his to press his palm to your belly to feel the fluttering of new life from within.

he imagines a small bundle pressed to your bare chest, skin-to-skin. you're crying, but so is the newly born infant that you hold so dear. so is he. sometimes, the sunlight shines through the windows of the hospital room, and other times the rain is deafening against the glass.

likewise, sometimes when the baby in your arms opens their eyes to take in the world for the first time, their color mirrors yours. but more often than not, it's his own pink and blue irises looking back at him, promising a life of good luck.

he imagines the feeling of a small palm pressed flat against his own much bigger one, as a young, tiny voice stumbles over the words he tries to guide them through.

he pictures the smile on your face, both adoring and soft, as you watch with tear-filled eyes as he teaches your child the blessing of their people.

as long as you are alive, the blood of the avgin will never run dry.

no matter how many years have passed since he was taken from sigonia in chains, he'll never forget his sister's final words to him. but when he looks at you, when he's near you, when he's inside you, they feel like more than just a memory.

it feels like she's speaking to him across the years, to him now, trying to guide him towards this single future with you instead of any of the infinite other futures he bets everything on.

maybe, if he chose to listen to her, there could be another avgin for gaiathra to bless. maybe, if he ever chose to give in to his weakness, to your warmth, to your softness, to your love, the avgin wouldn't have to live and die with him.

[hellsitedotcom]

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...had more OC thoughts and then this happened... ⇢ Aventurine, Jing Yuan, Dan Heng, Welt Yang, Blade, Moze.

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Scars. You were no stranger to them, far from it. They have adorned your body since you can remember - since you first saw your reflection in a mirror. They spoke of stories - your stories. Tales that other people would envy.

But to you? Those scars...they were suffocating. The memories haunting your nights like demons, the faces of the people slain by your blade watching you from the shadows with insatiable fury. You'd cover those scars up any chance you got, breaking mirrors anywhere you went, terrified of catching the smallest glimpse of your own flesh...

Yet, no one can run forever, can they? The guilt, the pain, the torment...it would eventually catch up. When your body has been stripped of its armor, the bLo0d- sweat running down your skin as you stand on the battlefield, your face to the sky because you are too scared...too weak to face what you have surrounded yourself with.

And then you feel a presence beside you, warmth wrapping around your shoulders - around your scarred body like a protective shield. For the first time since the battle was over, you felt like you could breathe.

You tore your gaze away from the grey sky, only to be met with a familiar pair of eyes. The man had wrapped his coat around you without a second thought, not questioning your absence during everyone else's celebrations, nor interrupting the silence you had stood on.

And as you held his gaze, your shaking hands gripping the soft fabric in both surprise over the gesture and desperation for ''armor'' to cover your body again, you knew that he understood you.

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[voidcat]

Blade & number 13 (trying to get the other to dance with them)

wc: 1k & gn!reader. reader is implied to be a stellaron hunter

a/n: posting this separately instead of answering the ask because tumblr decided to delete it(-:

The venue is bustling with noise and energy all around.

Everyone around is lost in the excitement, patiently waiting for the orchestra to return, for the grand party to start. All donned in tailored clothes, some going for masks, some for ridiculously big hats– a scene out of a movie or a novel, if you’d say so yourself. Were it not for your dearest partner’s grunts and huffs every once in a while to drag you out of the sweet dream.

Blade has been assigned to several missions back to back already, you’d understand the burnout and the exhaustion that comes with it. And still, no matter the work or the goals to tick off, you find a way to enjoy each moment– or so you console yourself, in the words of Silverwolf.

The muffled sounds stop in a sudden and a one, a two, a three– you can hear the famous orchestra starting the evening.

You cast a glance Blade’s way. Changed into something other than his usual clothes, the suit fits him perfectly. Elio had said it’d be wise to blend in, even though your jobs were minor compared to Silverwolf’s. Just keep an eye on, and maybe enjoy the evening, consider it a little gift. And grateful you were, practically giddy since you were informed of what the mission entailed.

Yet a part of you fears dragging Blade into all this, guilt sitting heavy at your belly. The lack of reactions, save for the occasional scoffs when someone dashes too close to him, do not help you once bit. A drink might help, or so you think and return with two glasses, offering one to him.

The drink melts on your tongue, relaxes all the muscles in your body. Known for its balls and events, even their drinks hold no competition. A glance Blade’s way and you can see him slowly sipping his drink, content just to see that much, hoping it might help his mood throughout the evening and until your departure.

Time ticks and by then, everyone in the grand salon has immersed themselves into dancing, swinging gracefully with the melody. The soft notes of the grand piano fills the air, the violins join in, even just from the sounds, you can picture the pianist’s fingers gliding off, flying off the keys, no longer just making music but crafting something sacred, something holy into life with mere presses.

The orchestra carries away the people, and with their melodies, they capture you too. You don’t notice Blade’s staring, nor him gently taking the glass off your hands and offering them to one of the servants making his rounds down there.

The melody rises and rises, picking up its face and with a snap, ends, taking your breath with it.

A moment’s pause and a waltz begins.

Turning hurriedly Blade’s way, hands balled into fists, you look so excited, stars in your eyes– he worries for a second if he got caught.

“Please.” you say in a whisper, and he looks at you with curiosity, please, what?..

“Just one dance, would you grant me this much?” you ask, hands dropping down, stroking the fabric of your outfit now, fiddling with the little embroidered details. Blade stands there, still silent, contemplating an answer, lips parted. “It’d help blend into the crowd too, you know… so we can keep not just an eye but also an ear out.” you try one last time, one last attempt. It feels easier to use the mission as an excuse than to admit you just want to stand closer to him, be like one of those couples you have been admiring for the past hour.

Eyes cast to the side, Blade avoids your gaze. Unsure how to feel when you followed with that excuse just to rationalize your request. Waiting and waiting, another song begins and draws close to an end and Blade realizes too late when he notices the signs of your fidgeting that he’s been making you wait, making you nervous and–

“Fine.” he says, his voice betraying the blunt answer and he reaches out his palm to you.

Eyes wide open, you freeze for a moment and snap out of it when he raises an eyebrow at you, slightly shaking his offered hand. With a skip to your step, you take his hand and a violin fills the air, lazy and faint.

The waltz begins softly, building up, and with it, so do the two of you.

Though you were unsure what to expect, Blade proves to be in control so far, taking the steps accordingly, swinging to the melody. 

It is a simple ballroom waltz, easy to pick up on after observing the people for the past hour. Seeing that the expression of surprise is still evident on your face, accompanying a soft smile, Blade feels a satisfaction blooming in his chest.

Were the purpose to truly keep an eye out and listen in, this would truly serve as the most ideal cover to blend in to the crowd– but too lost in your own little bubble, all the two of you can hear, feel, sense, see, and smell are each other; and the fairy-tale music that carries you throughout the ballroom with each step.

Blade holds you close and holds you gently, leading you into the dance, loosening his grip enough so you can dance freely. The dance goes on and you feel lost in his warm hold. For the first time in a long while forlorn eyes carry the gentle autumn breeze within their orbs, a man more than just the blade he wields, broken down to fragments. The melody picks up and Blade leads you for a spin, his other hand waiting in the air to pull you back to him–

In a sudden a loud crack echoes in the air.

The music halts, darkness overtakes the ballroom right after. The both of you frozen in place, Blade prepares to unsheathe his sword, his other hand standing over your skin still, keeping you close to his chest in a protective manner.

At the surprise of the moment for a second, the grand space is dead silent. And soon after follows people’s worried murmurs, followed by a scream that is never missing in such environments.

Silverwolf must be done with her part already. 

As you let out a sigh, you feel Blade’s hand relax on you, and returning to his side. Taking a step back, you copy the gesture and remove your hands from his frame. 

Time to bid goodbye to the fairytale it seems.

[haithamuse]

no thoughts. only cuddling w jing yuan.

cuddles with jing yuan can be summed up with a simple phrase — pure bliss.

you can't think of a better feeling than when his muscular arms wrap around you, locking you both in a tight embrace and being pulled flush against him. a comfortable heat emanating from his skin. particularly his chest, now exposed after being confined in his tight uniform all day long.

while being craddled in his arms, you felt safe. sure, the fact that your lover is able to prove his mettle in combat contributed to it, but the feelings he elicited from you were founded on a much more simplistic level. here in his arms, you have found your home. a place were you weren't just safe, but loved and cared for.

in his arms, you found a solace you couldn't hope to find anywhere else. not when he made you feel like nothing but the two of you mattered in this moment.

"am i boring you?" a deep chuckle managed to pull you out of your thoughts. it was a sound coming from jing yuan that you were all too familiar with, having grown particularly fond of it in moments like these particularly. the ones where you could not only hear, but feel it as your head laid on his chest, his chuckle reverberating through it.

your craned your neck to look up at him, thus being rewarded by the beautiful sight of your lover. the golden hue of his eyes never failed to mesmerize you, especially now when his face was framed by the loose strands of his hair, which he'd typically wear in a tail. "not at all."

though you shook your head in a daze, jing yuan still took your word for it. you weren't lying — in fact, you loved nothing more than to listen to his stories. yet in the same vein, it wasn't your fault that his voice was so relaxing.

the hand that so masterfully weaved through your hair did not aid you. deep calluses cut through the general's hands, resulting in a rough texture that accumulated over decades of swordsmanship. but when they come in contact with your scalp, you don't think that you've ever felt a touch softer than his.

and when his lips press against your forehead, you know that you have lost. "rest, my love. i won't go anywhere."

and so you do.

© HAITHAMUSE '23 — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. || DO NOT plagiarize my work or steal any graphics, as they are either purchased or commissioned.

[mercuriians]

feel the wind (make me whole)

there’s a strange kind of tautness that pulls at GEPARD’s shoulders. it’s heavy, almost like a ton of bricks pressing down against his skin, suffocating him, but not quite—it’s more subtle, more dull. somehow that only makes him feel more uneasy. he swallows all of it down, tries his best to get rid of the feeling. it’s the only thing he knows how to do. he reaches out to knock at your door. his movements are stiff. the thud of the wood is hollow. the weight on his shoulders only grows stronger as he waits for something and everything at the same time. finally he hears a faint sound.

his first instinct is self-preservation. his hand thoughtlessly moves to grip his weapon, before loosening its grip. perhaps his paranoia is entirely unjustified, irrational even. especially when the door opens to reveal you. the smile you give him is bright, and genuine, and gepard almost thinks it’s misplaced. kindness was dangerous in such an unpredictable world.

still he wonders why his heart feels just a little bit warmer, why he tries his best to return your smile even though every part of him argues against it. it was such a meager, trivial action, and yet deep down he’s not dense enough to overlook its significance. he can’t help but allow his hopes to soar just for a fleeting moment, glancing at the rosy version of reality those hopes offered. but then something seems to change. your smile disappears, and your brows furrow with palpable concern, and you’re opening your mouth—

“do you mind if i come in?”

the words spill from gepard’s lips instead. they’re messily strung together, accentuated with a slight tremble in his voice, and he hopes that he doesn’t come across as desperate. the sound of the wind drifting by suddenly seems all too loud. he has to stop himself from drumming his fingers against his thigh like an anxious child.

finally, you give him another smile. but this one’s different—it’s delicate, tender, yet almost perceptive, as if you know just how overwhelmed he’s felt recently. there was just so much to worry about, so much to do, all in so little time. that and the fact that sometimes, on the darkest and coldest of nights, after he’s finished cleaning up his wounds, he had to question whether each day would be the last. gepard watches, almost in slow motion, as you reach out, your fingers ever so gently intertwining with his. and, truly, he can’t remember a time when he was treated like this—like he was delicate. normally he likely would have taken offense, would have reprimanded you in the unforgiving tone he uses with everyone else. it was blasphemy to treat the captain of the silvermane guards with such tenderness. or at least, it should have been.

but gepard doesn’t care. he lets his fingers wrap around yours, lets himself be pulled into the warmth of your home. outside, through the crack in your window, he can still hear the sound of the wind passing by. it’s like a quiet song, humming softly, offering solace as the night sky surrounds the city of belobog.

author’s note: this was written out of sheer impulse but i’m proud of it. title is based off the song “where we go” by p!nk. hope u guys liked this <3

[naomi-nana]

jealous boyfriend.

summary || how would your bf tell you about his jealousy?

pairings || various hsr/genshin men x gn!reader

a/n || hehehehehhe...HEHEHHEH-

warnings || jealousy, kinda possessive behaviour, violence. kinda ooc, lowercase intended. it's not proofread

he will not tell you about it.

when he sees you talking to another man, he doesn't mind at all. but when the man starts to make you uncomfortable, he will come to your rescue without saying anything. not because he is embarrassed about it, he just doesn't want to make a fuss over such thing. if you asked him about it, he will definitely stay silent.

"that man didn't do anything to you, right?" he asked you. you smiled at him and chuckled a little. "what's so funny?"

"are you perhaps, jealous?" he only gave you a strange look and shook his head. "i don't want someone making you uncomfortable." he said, while squeezing your hand.

his respond is definitely not one that you expect, though you still feel satisfied with it.

ZHONGLI, XIAO, alhaitham, tighnari, kazuha, DILUC, Albedo, DANHENG, GEPARD, WELT + any of ur favs!

he will subtly tell you about it.

when he sees a man making you uncomfortable, he will take your hand into his and glare daggers at the man without saying anything. the man is obviously confused and just thought he was a freak, so the man left both of you alone.

"ah, wait-!" before you reach for the man, he turned you around and kissed you. when he pulled back, your face was as red as a tomato and you don't know what to say.

"what..what was that for?.." you asked, covering your mouth. he only smiled as a respond and whispered, "i'm the only one who can do that to you."

"no one else."

CHILDE, heizou, cyno, xiao, ALHAITHAM, kaeya, WANDERER, Kaveh, BLADE, luocha, IL DANHENG + any of ur favs!

he will absolutely make a fuss about it.

another man talking to you? he will be telling them to not get too close. another man getting close to you? he will stand between you and the man. another man making you uncomfortable? unacceptable. he will, and will absolutely yell at the man and kick his ass. no one will make you uncomfortable and come out without a scratch. no, without atleast him punching their face.

"are you sure we won't get in trouble for that?" you whispered at him, while looking at the man running away from your boyfriend.

"what? he was the one in the wrong." you only sighed as a respond and stood beside him. "well, i get that, but you shouldn't..you know. kick his..that." he laughed at your words and put his hand on your waist.

"what? am i not allowed to protect what's mine now?" he looked down at you and smirked after seeing your flustered face.

"yeah. you're mine."

SCARAMOUCHE, HEIZOU, childe, JINGYUAN, blade, CYNO, LUKA + any of ur favs!

naomi-nana 2023. all likes, comments & reblogs are appreciated! <3

[zashafenn]

he makes time for you

“You have this awfully mischievous look in your eye, General.” You remark, coming to stand next to Jing Yuan, looking out at the Luofu from where you stood at the Seat of Divine Foresight.

“Hmmm..? Whatever could you mean?” His tone is sweet as honey, and he looks at you from underneath his fringe, a secretive little smirk weaving onto his face.

The general was widely regarded as one of the Alliances best men – skilled, thorough, strong. It wasn’t that people were wrong about any one of those things, but you knew of another side of his personality. A quirk, one may say?

He was really a little lazy. Rather good at having others do the work for him, too. Delegation, is what he called it.

“Are you sure? Usually, when you have that look on your face, it means trouble for someone.” You joked, stifling your laugh into your hand and leaning into him a little, careful not to be too obvious. This was your workplace, after all.

He paused. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Jing Yuan was covering his mouth now, a twinkle in his eye as he gazed at you. “I simply… redistributed some tasks, freed up a little time for myself.” When he turned away from the window, his hand snuck around your waist, and squeezed gently. “Would you like to have dinner tonight?”

...You supposed sometimes it was alright for him to cause a little trouble for others, if it meant you got to steal him away for a while.

“I’d love it.” You murmured, doing your best to resist giving his lips a quick peck. He beamed at you, thoroughly pleased with himself. “Now, go get the work you haven’t managed to shift onto someone else done, I’ll be waiting.”

At least he had the decency to look sheepish as you walked away. You weren’t complaining though – you loved it when he made time for you.

[cloud-player]

Deathbeds - ratiorine drabble

Song Fic - Bring Me The Horizon: Deathbeds

The words hit Veritas' heart like a hundred shards of ever-frozen ice. This was the plan, he had to remind himself. He told you to do this. He doesn't mean it.

"Ratio, you wretch."

And yet, somehow the hurt in Aventurine's colorful eyes were truthful. Genuine. So fucking honest that Veritas had to look away and fix his gaze on a ridiculously empty bookshelf in Sunday's room.

Aventurine... Veritas clenched his fists. He really didn't like the way Sunday talked down on the IPC ambassador. Demeaning, disrespectful. Sunday talked to Aventurine like he would talk to a disgusting amalgamation of cells, and it made Veritas want to tear the wings off Sunday's head.

The irony-- a symbol of good on an evil control freak.

His chest weighed heavier with every moment that passed, with every obviously badly-crafted bluff Aventurine grits out. Veritas wished he could reach out and take Aventurine's shaking hands. Hold them in Veritas' slightly larger ones, shield Aventurine like he always shielded everyone else but himself.

Why, dear gambler? Please, stay. For once, please just stay.

Veritas never thought he could become enamored or interested by anything other than knowledge and spreading it, but he could then start listing the things that made his heart pound and his stomach flip embarrassingly.

Deft fingers toying with a poker chip. Plump lips curling into devious lipcurls. Soft blonde hair. Purple and cyan eyes framed flatteringly by long lashes. Aventurine, basically.

And on my deathbed, all I'll see is you.

Aventurine had told him of his goal-- and that he will have almost zero chances of making it back alive. Veritas had let his demeanor slip, dropping the teacup Aventurine had served him some tea in.

His dearest gambler just smiled sadly. The life may leave my lungs, but my heart will stay with you. Aventurine then slowly leaned forward to press their lips together.

The waves will pull us under. "Please don't beg me to reconsider, Doctor." Aventurine pleaded as Veritas responded to the kiss, hands shaking as they clutched for dear life onto Veritas' shirt. "Because I might actually... I can't, Veritas. Please."

Don't try to fight the storm, you'll tumble overboard. Veritas didn't respond, though maybe he should have. Maybe he should have gotten down on his knees, begged for Aventurine to just... run. Run with him. Fuck the IPC, they'll figure it out.

But the mission held something more personal for Aventurine, hence why he went all-in. This was more than just Veritas' feelings for Aventurine. He had no right to fight for Aventurine in this story.

Looking back, maybe Aventurine wanted Veritas to fight. Ratio, you wretch. Maybe Aventurine wanted him to try, to hold onto his hand and drag him away from the gamble for his life. Maybe.

And as Veritas handed him his Doctor's Note, he noted Aventurine's hands shaked even more than usual. The light on his colorful irises dimmed.

Do stay alive. Please stay alive.

He didn't know if Aventurine read or will ever get to read the note. All Veritas could do was hide his hurt and watch Aventurine's figure slowly become smaller.

And as he watched the light on the aventurine stone in the IPC go out, Veritas had to hold on the table in front of him. Gripped it too tightly that it dented. His eyes felt hot and his vision blurred. He wanted to turn his head and be greeted by a smug smile, a green jacket and the smell of expensive perfume and whiskey.

That little kiss you stole, it hurt my heart and soul-- and like a deer in the headlights, I meet my fate.

Aventurine ventured into the Nihility, and he took Veritas' heart with him.

Veritas didn't know if it was possible for a person to live while missing half of their heart and soul, but he will try. Tides will bring me back to you. One way or the other, he will meet Aventurine again.

In life or in Nihility, it will depend on his dearest gambler's luck.

[narumi-gens]

why does life slumber? yandere!sunday x gn!reader

minors, ageless, blank blogs dni

"dove, what are you doing?"

there's something dark in sunday's tone that signals danger. but right now, you're too focused on trying to keep your balance as you crouch on top of the balcony's railing to pick up on it. the metal is narrow enough that it only just fits the width of one foot and so you have them arranged toe to heel.

this high up, the wind is as strong as it is cold. the only thing keeping you from slipping from the railing is the death grip that you have on it.

"dove, come down from there."

you quickly glance over at him to see the cautious hand that he's extending out to you before looking over the balcony's edge, only to immediately feel dizzy. you shut your eyes as your hold on the railing grows tighter.

"it's just a dream. it's just a dream," you tell yourself, forcing yourself to ease your grip and steady your stance.

"dove! this isn't the dreamscape!"

the wind must have carried your voice because there's suddenly a frantic note in his tone that you've never heard before. it's enough to catch you by surprise and make you hesitate, tightening your hold on the railing and opening your eyes.

"this isn't the dreamscape," he repeats, slower this time but no less excited. "you're awake. this is reality."

you look at him from the corner of your eye and see that he's moved a few inches closer, his hand still outstretched towards you. he sounds so sure that it has you doubting yourself.

you're positive that this is a dream. you're positive that you learned the difference between when he puts you under into the dreamscape and when he wakes you up back into reality.

but...what if he took you out of the dreamscape without you regaining consciousness? what if he had woken you up, but then somehow removed the memory? what if the bedroom you awoke in was the real one and not the exact mirror he created for you in the dreamscape?

what if jumping from this balcony doesn't wake you from a dream but instead ends it all in reality?

"n-no. this is a dream," you assure yourself and him, but both your voice and certainty waver. you take a deep breath for courage and force the confidence back into your words. "this is a dream!"

slowly, you let go of the railing and stretch your arms to the sides for balance, wobbling as you carefully begin to stand up. your heart races in your chest. your stomach drops. you can feel how sweaty your palms are.

"dove, you're awake!" his pleas fall on deaf ears. this is a dream. this is a dream.

you repeat the mantra over and over in your head as you carefully turn out toward what you're certain are the glittering streets of the golden hour far, far beneath your cage. you close your eyes, assuring yourself one final time that this is a dream and when you hit the ground, you'll wake up with precious moments to spare to try and escape before sunday wakes to stop you.

you take a single step off the railing, balancing for a moment on the one remaining foot, and then your world spins.

only, instead of falling forward, you've fallen backward into a firm chest and with a heavy arm tightly wound around your middle.

it takes a minute for the realization that he's caught you just as you were about to jump to sink in.

the adrenaline and fear are still pumping through your veins. your pounding heartbeat is loud in your ears, drowning out the relieved murmurings he breathes against your temple as he wraps his other arm around you to hold you close.

you're in such a state of shock, that you only notice you're shivering from the cold after he's carted you inside. once he has you seated, he shrugs off his jacket and gently places his blazer over your shoulders. your trembling fingers wrap it tighter around your frame, instinctively seeking the warmth it holds from his body heat.

"oh, dove," he softly sighs from where he kneels before you. his expression is colored with a mixture of sadness, concern, and relief. you flinch when he brings his hands up and cups your cheeks, but he doesn't let you shake him off. "what were you thinking?"

the question is dripping with condescension and pity, making you feel small. your gaze drops to your lap and when you notice how blurry your vision is, you realize that you're crying.

"I-I wanted to wake from the dream," you whisper, your voice so soft that he only hears you because of how close he keeps you.

there must be something in your words that affects him because he rests his forehead against yours. when your eyes briefly dart up to see him, you find that his own eyes are closed.

"even if this were a dream, it wouldn't matter. you'll always be by my side. haven't you realized that yet?" in response, you can only break down in sobs.

it's only much later that night, in the brief moment that sunday has his back to you, that you're able to quickly peek over the edge of your bed and look at the bottom of the bedside table. and there, so faint that you can see it only because you know to look for it, is the small D that you scratched into the wood weeks ago.

the knowledge that you are in fact in the dreamscape should relieve you as it means that you can still tell the difference between dreams and reality. instead, you find yourself wishing you hadn't looked because there's nothing that you can do about it.

even that small movement has caused the thick chain connecting the collar around your neck to the rung bolted into the wall to softly rattle, drawing sunday's attention back to you. you merely close your eyes and try to make peace with the fact that it doesn't matter if you're dreaming or awake. you're trapped in a nightmare regardless.

[voidcat]

Serval Landau is a tough woman to love, but loving her you do without a thought.

Known around pretty well in her circle of status, a brilliant mind and a dazzling talent, she blinds you with her shine the moment your eyes land on her.

As hard nut to crack as she can be, you find it almost too easy; every crook, smirk and blush of hers captivating, her passion making her all the more endearing.

It leaves the person drunk, to have Serval Landau look at you the way she does. Victorious. On top of the world, how the first architects of Belabog first must’ve felt, if you’re being honest with yourself.

Living in the present is easy, conjuring what the future might bring a fun activity to pass time, yet you don’t expect the past to come and crash everything down, burn it all to smithers with a snap of fingers.

It happens too naturally, a little comical or so to speak. A woman of her caliber, it is no surprise to hear of her past achievements, occupation and research, nor the people she were with, the branches she worked closely within. Cocolia Rand’s name is repeated often and how can it not be? The late architect of Belabog, some still remember her for all the good, show understanding for her sacrifice, others choose to resent her and how she never listened to anyone.

In the dim lighted pub, you don’t quite catch Gerard until he vanishes from your sights yet from the force of his hand you can tell he had a little too much. He lets out a hearty laugh, a sigh of relief, throws you a congratulations and celebrates you on your victory. Mouths a little here and there how long it took Serval to move on, from the Cocolia Rand; the woman whose name is tied to Serval’s whenever it is the past people lament.

You feel chills down your spine, yet your smile remains frozen in the spot. He lets out how in the last moments she reclaimed closure in her own way— “I am no longer in your shadow.” Gepard recalls the phrase.

“Here now big guy, why don’t you sit down and brea—“ and before you can finish, he is nowhere to be seen.

Now you see, you know Gepard, and you know in everything he does, he always means the best, but maybe, just maybe, you wish the goody two shoes of the family had a little more experience with alcohol, sparing you from the obvious truth that’s been in your face since the very first days of your dream relationship.

Serval Landau is no longer in Cocolia’s shadow.

But you are.

Doomed to be.

Because you see, it was her first big everything, love and heartbreak, affection and hate, tension and excitement— the woman who robbed Belabog and the underground, left it sinking in the eternal snow, continues to rip apart anything good remaining, separating, even in her death.

And you have to live the rest of your days in your lover’s embrace, forever hidden in the shadow of her ex. In your steps, it’s her heels that echo against the tiles, in your smiles, she always recalls her good old times, every kiss, every edge and crook of skin, every kiss plastered, you’re haunted by the reminder of her ghost cast over your flesh, beating heart.

To those close to her, she has obtained her long deserving closure.

Serval Landau claims she is no longer in her shadow but you know that’s a lie.

And you spent every night dreading, will it be tonight she calls out the name Cocolia

[3rosx]

Argenti is a green flag. He can appreciate others beauty but not to the point where he makes you feel insecure, he makes sure you’re comfortable and comfortable in your relationship and listens to all your complains. If you’re unhappy about something or someway he acts then he considers your feelings and changes. But eventually you’d come to learn that Argenti is just like that, he can see how others are beautiful but that’s just how he is and his way as a knight of beauty. But he loves you, he chose you, in his eyes, you’re the most beautiful of all.

[azes-ocean]

Life and Death

Oc [death god] x Oc [Life god]

Warnings: dead dove, yandere char, suicide on Life’s part, attempted suicide from char part.

An: This was my writing project for school :3, just wanted opinions tbh before I submitted the final version to my teacher. The rest of the requests are quite long so I’m doing this today so it won’t seem rushed tomorrow ✨✨✨✨

summary: Life always turns to Death

CHRISTMAS COUNTDOWN‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️❗️❗️❕❕❕❕❕❕❕💥💥💥💥💥💥‼️‼️‼️‼️

22 days till Christmas✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕👾👾👾👾👾👾🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊

Life and Death.

Light and Dark.

‘Trifling concepts, mysterious beings.’

Life was a beautiful yet stern force, encasing all beings in a shell of protection, to which mortals called the ‘body’. Sadly, though, even if Life loved and wished to protect all her wondrous children, she let them roam the physical and spiritual world, allowing them the freedom of choice to do which they wanted with Life’s gifts.

But then Life gets tired. They trip too much, they hurt themselves or others hurt them until they seek solace in quiet tranquility in Rest.

They named the being ‘Death’.

Death was quiet and hardly spoke, only watching and listening to Life’s words and rambles until night fell, and all Life fell into their arms, and slumbered peacefully for a short while.

Death was at first silent, quiet and hesitant. He kept Life at arms length, only welcoming those who wished for the feeling of eternal rest into his domain.

Then Life started to mingle with Emotion, Love, Fear and Curiosity, welcoming them to have a part in all creatures souls, though still on constant watch from Life as to make sure they never harmed her delicate children.” It was *hardly* fair. Death had been a constant presence in Life’s days, yet why had Life welcomed those unfamiliar forms more readily than him? Were they perhaps just more appealing? More friendly?

Those naive fools didn’t deserve to be around Life any longer. All they did was cause pain and confusion. So he forcibly took Life down, taking along their friends, who, as they were falling, became all one.

‘Regret.’

Life cried and begged, insisting their time was not up- that the sunlight was purely where they belonged. But they were merely ravaged by Death, as they insisted Life had always been fated to fall into him. Life’s pleads were met with deaf ears as their days turned gloomy and hopeless. Life sometimes found small sources if hope-but dismissed it eventually.

Life started to remorse, the color being drained from their being as they eventually felt freedom slipping away permanently from their fingertips.

“Whats the point…?” They murmured to themselves, their once proud and strong body curled, shivering.

So Life turns to the one who hurt them most.

Death’s warm yet terrifying embrace.

“I’m yours now…thats what you wanted…right?”

“N-no…Thats…never what I wanted…

My love…”

In the end, after all, all life turns to Death once tired, and they always have their spread to welcome.

BTW: How does this relate to Christmas?

Because Christmas isn’t happy for everyone :) but I want it to be! So I hope you’ll use this fic as a vent like I did 🙂 My uncle died from cancer two years ago during this season when my cousin was twelve. Last time I saw both my parents cry. I was feeling down when it came up sooo here we are!!!! A fic meant to tackle that 😁

VISUALIZERS

(Art is not mine!!!) While this is how I visualized it, pls feel free to think of it your way!!! by the way for the characters their fem and male don’t look alike because I just looked for ones that give the same vibe. can’t find the original artists because I got it from pinterest and sometimes I know they’re reposts so 😖

HELL

DEATH

(male)

FEM

LIFE

Male

FEM

[tsubaki3192]

Men who are so emotionally constipated, or have been through enough trauma that they don't... exactly... do well with touch, but are extremely touch starved and crave love beyond anything else physical.

Men who suddenly gain an adorable S/O who is willing to do all that and more.

Men, who suddenly find themselves having someone to come home to every night; who find themselves lying beside said person every night; who's willing to hold them for as long as necessary when it gets difficult; who refuses to abandon them no matter the circumstance.

Boyfriends, who find it difficult to truly express themselves when they want to, and get frustrated whenever they have that difficulty.

Boyfriends who find their S/O so attractive that they can't help themselves, so they end up blurting out the thoughts that come to mind.

.

Boyfriends who become your husband because he made that same mistake one day, and scrambled to grab the ring.

(The same ring that had been sitting in his pocket for the last three months.)

--------------------

JJK: Gojo, Megumi,

ToRev: Hanma, KAZUTORA, Shinichiro, SANZU, Izana, Kokonoi

HSR: Blade, AVENTURINE, DANHENG,

Genshin: KAEYA, DILUC, Scaramouche/Wanderer, Xiao,

BNHA: Aizawa, TODOROKI, DABI,

Haikyuu: OIKAWA, Atsumu,

[anantaru]

HSR + HOT THINGS HE DOES WHILE DOING IT

— ꒰ including ꒱ — aventurine, dr ratio, sunday, boothill x fem! reader

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, dom hsr characters, oral (fem! receiving) & fingering, established relationship, hitting it raw, dirty talk, tit play + biting & marking, prone bone ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ

— ꒰ AVENTURINE ꒱ + shamelessly moans into your ears

his moans have that kind of power that attack you with the lightest bit of touch but rumble inside your nerves with an utmost generosity that continued to burn an everlasting need into the rigid twist of your belly. he flips you over to your stomach and kneads the handful of flesh on your ass, greedily as his hands retreat— now, he uses his hand to keep your hips sealed against his aching half, while the other was positioned next to your head to refrain his weight from leaning and crushing against you.

aventurine's mouth was hot against your ear, too hot, in fact, that your body manifests swells of electric jumps on your limbs and muscles, your blood thrumming as you're audibly hissing out petulant sobs through your slacked jaw.

"tell me how it feels, yeah?" he sighs between gritted teeth, savoring the anticipation as his eyes squeeze shut, hips aligned and drawing his oozy tip against your entrance before pressing into your hole.

"ugh, fuck—" he grunts, "you'll mess me up today, hm?" as he moans deeply into your ear, so grateful to you as you shakily exhale through your mouth, your hole melting around his thick shaft before he inches further through your plushy walls.

aventurine was unashamed of gasping out those lecherous noises for you, brazen to the point where he's telling you how you feel as you squeeze him and cloud his mind with your milking compression indulging in him, "aah— you feel so nice, so soft, i'm losing my mind," he cheekily laughs between his whines, feeling elevated.

he kisses your neck as you sob, your walls feeling all of him inside as you exhale between a shaken embrace— but it's telling how much it turned you on when your boyfriend was this vocal with the pleasure you caused on him, his tongue darting across your neck before he loudly groans into the skin, your hole tensing and letting go, tensing and letting go, adding pressure again.

your eyes roll back as he grinds himself in you, always holding against your ass to fondle with the skin as he repeatedly pressures and pulls his cock through your creamy hole, entering all his inches inside an eager cuddle.

the sensation of having him claim your body in such way made your stomach do flips and tumbles, and the hums into your ear only multiplied the ways you responded to him with fizzy tears pulling at your lashes. right there, aventurine spills his brazen moans right against your ear, shamelessly between affectionate words of love, sending your inmost nerves into hard overdrive.

— ꒰ DR RATIO ꒱ + pulls your face to him before you climax

before he advances forward to his original plan, veritas will make you feel like you're mounting off pleasure and ah, your silhouette was charming to look at, no? you're so sweet when you hide your face from him. yet he doesn't understand why you're so embarrassed to show your flustered state? regardless, he loves when you do that, hiding the real taste, doesn't matter if he's suckling on your clit or watching how you suck him off, you're always warding off his enticing gaze.

the tantalizing signs of your embarrassment were enough for dr ratio to focus on all the different regions of your body— not only that, but he inspects your breathing and how it shudders through you, not to mention how it hitches when he grinds into your cunt.

with that, he can determine that you prefer it faster, although mixed in with a couple slow grinds once he's sheathed himself fully inside. a combination of both can do a lot more, and channeling it into one was his speciality. you're making it just that easy for him.

you wonder why? well, it's because you make everything look so sexy that it's so easy to figure you out.

after finding the perfect tempo for the both of you, your warmth clamps around him before losing yourself in each precise, calculated push of his hips overloading from the feeling of being close to you, or ah, being one with you, correct? it's how you're throbbing and creaming his entire base full that he realizes you're right there, feeling an upcoming wave of pleasure making itself visible.

"i'm cumming, i'm, aah, fuck," you moan beneath his hypnotizing pair of eyes as his hips rush through you, spreading your poor, little cunt apart as your hole flexes around his shaft. veritas knew he had to be quick with it, so after hearing you sob and wince, he draws himself off your neck and cups your face roughly, casting his eyes on you.

the man was gorgeous and he knew it, much to your dismay— he could also be a total idiot about how annoyingly handsome he was and that he always knew how to use it to his benefit— although in this moment, his face was soused in his sweat, messed up around his forehead and covered with fizzling lust for you.

a strangled cry rips from your throat and vibrates through his eardrums as your body vividly shakes under him. you're whimpering at the embarrassment of having him look at you while he's forcing the eye contact with his hand bending around the softness of your cheek.

you had no idea how much of a difference it made to look at him and become so, vulnerable.

you squirm under his searing silhouette, crying out the most beautiful sounds as your sore hole twitching around the base, utterly spent as veritas only admires the glow in your eyes, nothing more and nothing else.

the two of you exhale shakily in your afterglow, wet skin clinging to the sheet and relishing in its dirtiness.

— ꒰ SUNDAY ꒱ + kisses your clit before going down on you

he holds himself back, he needs to, because fighting the urge to bury his face where you needed him the most was always worth it— before he latches on your clit, he uses his rough thumbs to push the plushy skin protecting your clit aside to plant his plump lips over it, ghosting his mouth on top as he's almost successful enough to distract you from two digits bumping against your weeping hole.

sunday adjusts his face on your pussy before planting a wet kiss on your clit, his lusting eyes turning dark in the dark light as he roams two fingers inside your cloying hole, "give it to me, i know you can do it," he takes each necessary step to make you arch your back and gush all over him— your bothered silhouette making his cock ache and balls throb in his boxers.

his digits ascend over the slopes of your velvet walls as he presses delirious sensations on your cunt before spitting on your pussy repeatedly, messily grinning against your folds when you wince to every single droplet of his saliva hitting your cunt.

what doesn't come as a surprise is that sunday likes being messy with it— he needs to feel the wetness, the sheer contact of a hot tongue on your throbbing skin that he asks himself, can you feel it too? oh silly, of course you can, there was no room for debate by how you're reacting to it.

he swallows your arousal pooling on his tongue as he laps at your clit while his fingers graze along the sponginess of your walls, your pussy holding and clenching around the two digits. your eyes were half lidded, almost closed, your body so responsive that your cunt pulses at nothing but the tip of his tongue nudging into your clit.

"so obedient you are, my dear," he rasps before your fingers slope around the loose strands of his hair to press him into your heat, your back arching and your cunt spasming as you ride his face.

sunday hums happily, satiated, "what a good girl you are," he praises you enlaced in a wanton voice, thrusting his fingers roughly as you cum inside a silent cry.

— ꒰ BOOTHILL ꒱ + teases you with his teeth

your saccharine alike face prompts a menacing grin from him as he settles you on his lap before tilting your head a little— his eyes drizzling into the space on your neck and how he could feel your heart beat from that precious spot. boothill tests the waters, his insatiable hunger for you being so painful as he sighs out excitedly. he grazes into your neck and drags the sharp edges through your sensitive skin— always holding you on his waist with one hand wrapped around while the other toyed with your soft tits.

boothill has everything under his control, okay? you needn't worry— in fact, he always tells you to not torment yourself when all you had to do was trust him with your pleasure.

a smile stretches across his face as he brazenly flattens his tongue against your neck, feeling your pulse thud on the wet muscle before squeezing your tits to mess up your focus. you cling to his strong shoulders as you arch your back when he rolls a nipple between his digits, "you like that, don't you?" he drawls, your moan bending when he pinches your tit again.

your eyes roll back, and ugh, it feels so good, his rough yet precise touches were capable to induce waves of sparks from your breasts to all the way down, hitting your aching pussy. you're humping against his thigh and drool, more so stain your panties with your slick. the swell of his bulge was heavily pressing against your clothed folds, and boothill knew it wouldn't take long until you'll beg him to fuck you.

alongside those mesmerizing touches that marked up your breasts, the man took his time and acted unhurriedly as he sucks on your neck, shielding his eyes as he dips his head right above your collarbones. your skin mists with drops of his saliva as you find his hair beneath your hands, tugging slightly at his strands.

boothill moans into your neck, the vibrations setting a fire on your wet core, "let me consume you..." you hear him murmur playfully, his sharp fangs tauntingly pressing into your neck as you arch your back, "pretty, mh, you're so good, so lovely, so pretty, and ugh," as he stammers, his tongue blazing wildly across the pulsing spot that he's bitten, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he calls your name.

© 2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[harmonysanreads]

I NEED MORE PUPPY PHAINON, imagine that his beloved was offended by him, and he literally walks on his knees after her, asking for forgiveness, lol

Can be read as a continuation to this piece.

Phainon has become more partial to hating silence in his recent years.

It wasn't always this way though and in certain conditions, he finds himself craving a particular flavor of silence. But in the other, majority of cases, that deafening vacancy of noise reminds him of memories he’d rather forget. To placate that discomfort, he embellishes the void with sound no matter how small, or with his own voice.

Still, the ache is manageable, not voracious enough to make him dramatically restless. Where this faint modicum of control fails as well is when you, in all your cruelty, cast that curse of silence upon him as a direct consequence of anger.

In the name of the Titans, he prays you’d scream at him, hit him couple of times, destroy his house and belongings — anything, anything besides this nonverbal torture he can withstand. But he's not one to dwell in unfair complaints. Especially when your downturn gaze, pressed lips and crossed arms affirm so loudly that he's messed up.

By now, he’s exhausted almost every tactic in his arsenal to get you to acknowledge him again — apologizing, pinching his ears, making funny faces, wrestling a titankin and two whole repeats of that cycle. But you didn't let this opportunity go to waste in showcasing how good you’ve gotten in keeping a blank face in truly tumultuous situations, much to his chagrin in this instance.

It's only when you, most likely fed up with his antics, started to walk away that he scrambled to try again.

“My sun, my moon, my star, my light — please, please please please, look at me? Just once?” you're halted by a tug at your sleeve. A twinge of something softens your resolve as you realize how Phainon remembered, wrestling with his desires to not touch you until he's earned it again.

You can feel the weight of his eyes on your back, you pray that he didn't notice you waver. You steel yourself and stubbornly keep the act steadfast, conflicted before dropping the charade in favor of melting into his arms and forgetting altogether. But you can't, you’ve already promised to wring the confession on the errors of his ways this time.

You glare at the splinters in the earth, “Haven’t I told you once? If you keep calling me things that will never be yours, I might just become the same.” it takes everything to keep your voice even.

You don't need to look to picture Phainon's sure dumbfounded blinks, the churning and turning of metaphorical cogs as they shift in his head, neurons firing and synapses piecing together the implication of your cold comment.

You make the mistake of expecting only a gust of wind and are hit instead with a fully powered storm, in the form of a dull thud that you recognize as the hero’s knees hitting the ground when you're forced to spin as his arms find refuge in clinging to your thighs.

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry — I am so SO sorry. I promise I won't do it again, I swear on the Flame-Chase — no, I swear on Aedes Elysiae that I will never do it again! If I do, may I face a fate worse than death itself. Just… just please, forgive me.”

There's an ache in your heart, sudden, quick and flighty. Kephale's light cradles you both, the corners of Phainon's eyes shine with something. By instinct, you try to escape the painful grasp of the hero, try to. Stumbling a few steps in what you intended would create space, resulting in Phainon getting dragged alongside your movements — sans a care in the Deliverer’s countenance.

“Phainon, I'm going to fall if you don't —” you try to bargain and fall, you do.

One ghost of a touch against the pavement is all you recall, so faint it can be disregarded completely. Your gasp gets muffled in something soft and firm, a mix of the perfume you recognize as yours and something else too convoluted to remember in the heat of the moment canopies your senses.

When the brief storm settles, a sigh slips past your lips. You don't even need to look up to know where you ended up landing.

But an insistent grasp angles your gaze against your wishes upward, you don't offer further resistance as pity grips your heart, “My dearest, beloved, my love, honeycakes with whipped cream on top, my life… won't you show me mercy?”

You calmly maintain Phainon's gaze, searching his face for any trace of dishonesty. The glossy blues of atonement prompts you to be petty one last time, “You don't care much about your life though.”

At this, Phainon completely deflates, collapsing in your arms. “Oh come on! Will you just say yes?”

At the faintest chime of the giggle you fail to quieten, he burrows further in the crook of your neck, arms coiling with a force you're no stranger to by now. Phainon shifts to adjust your position on his lap and changes tactics at the last moment, seizing your momentary lack of guard to launch an aimless attack of kisses.

You can only thank the barren side of Okhema city you two had chosen now, you do not want to think of what you’d have to do to get him off of you had this been a crowded place. The agony that came with the thirty something minutes of deprivation Phainon tolerated is much prominent, a burn lingers around your cheeks and neck. He refrains from completely leaning towards your lips though, still mindful that you haven't yet affirmed in words.

“Okay okay! You're forgiven, good heavens.” you heave, Phainon's exclamation of joy gets lodged in his throat prematurely, “But, you'll be sleeping on the couch today.”

You regret uttering that almost instantly, it's as if every particle of the hero’s life force has been drained mercilessly, appearing as though he might really cry this time.

You avert your eyes, forcing a sigh, “Ah, well, nevermind. You can sleep next to me — but I'll still be keeping a pillow barrier in the middle! Don't forget I'm still… still mad at you.”

As if on cue, Phainon springs back to life once more. Perhaps it's just your enervated eyes, but apparitions of what you can only assume to be puppy ears flick to and fro on top of his head. Caught in a trance, you reach out to ruffle those snow-white tresses and your lover melts.

You know your imposed punishment won’t last for more than ten minutes into the slumber and you’ll be coaxed with these antics again and again. But for this moment, you suppose it won't hurt to allow yourself to indulge and believe, that everything is okay.

[anaxasparfait]

HSR men texts x GN!Reader - 2

do u guys think if i posted these to twitter ppl would gut me