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chryblossomjjk · 2 years

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practice | jjk

⇢ PAIRING: fuckboy!jk x inexperienced reader

⇢ RATING/GENRE: m/18+ | college au, fwb, smut

⇢ WC: 8.1k

⇢ WARNINGS: mentions of bad sexual experiences, nickname you guys might find cringey (sorry babes), praise, a little degradation, a little manhandling, oral sex (f recieving), fingering, squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, very brief mentions of anal play, brief mentions of sex toys and masturbation, spitting, titty sucking, protected sex (hes a hoe but not a dummy), jk is kinda a himbo (scratch that last side note), jk running through twice members lmao sorry girlies, pining, maybe unrequited love, maybe not, ill let u decide, oc is in denial in the beginning, oc has that lemon water coochie!!, daddy kink + daddy kink slander (not seriously!), slight corruption kink

⇢ SUMMARY: you usually spend friday nights on your own. tonight, however, your friend and campus fuckboy, jungkook, decides to pay you a visit.

⇢ NOTES: hi friends!! i’m back with my second fic!! i posted this last night but miss ting had a bad case of the typos rip. so I had it beta'd by @kookstempo pls go give her love >:((( ! i found the smut a little easier to write this time. still not that good lol but not as mentally taxing! oc is totally definitely not a little bit of a projection of me haha thisficwassexuallycathartictowrite i hope you guys like it! i would love to know your thoughts! also would be v cool if you checked out my masterlist. love u bye!!

⇢ SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s 10 p.m. on a Friday.

The night of the week that lures college students out of their suffocating dorm rooms with the promise of parties and alcohol. After days of classes, hours of studying, and minutes of sleep, most people your age spend their weekends unwinding, hopping from frat house to frat house.

One of the many perks of living on campus is the social life. Being surrounded by young adults is exciting. It also means that everyone is horny. Ravenously so. Seriously. Anything with a hole or phallic-shaped appendage is a prime candidate for getting fucked.

Anything and everyone, except you.

It wasn’t that you couldn’t get fucked, per se. Although abundant, your options were limited. Given the environment, it was difficult to find a guy you actually felt comfortable with. He didn’t have to be in love with you, but he did have to respect you if he wanted to get anywhere near your sugar walls. With that being said, it was slim pickings.

You coped well, for the most part. But it was hard to shake the lonely feelings that bubbled in your chest from time to time. And the feral ones. Nothing a quick rub from your petite, manicured fingers couldn’t satisfy, you suppose…

Besides, all men do is disappoint you. The only two sexual partners you’ve had thus far were subpar, to say the least. Greedy. Disgusting. Selfish. Not an ounce of concern for your pleasure. As embarrassing as it was to admit, you’ve never orgasmed from sex. Not even close. That left a sour, lemony taste in your mouth. Ever since then, your pussy was on hiatus, locked away in the highest room of the tallest tower, until a worthy knight came to save it from this tortuous dry spell.

You sigh, peeling the honey-drenched sheet mask off your face and tossing it into the trash with vigor. You eye yourself in the mirror with a scowl. Fluffy, freshly plucked brows knit together as you examine your appearance. You’re wearing a cropped white tank top, nipples poking through the little animated cherubs printed on the front. The baby pink Sailor Moon pajama shorts on your thighs left little to the imagination. White kitty ears headband keeping those annoying baby hairs out of your face.

You’re cute, right?

Atleast you tried to look cute.

Your roommate, Mina, was visiting family for the weekend, leaving you the dorm to yourself. Without your extraverted lifeline, you decided it was the perfect opportunity to stay in and pamper yourself.

You’ve already waxed your body, head to toe, with that expensive sugaring wax Mina begged you not to get. ‘It was worth it,’ you thought to yourself when you had spread your peach-scented lotion on the smooth canvas of your legs after the shower.

You even gave yourself a facial. Extractions and all. Much cooler and more productive than partying and getting laid.

You take your headband off, ruffling your thick hair until it falls into place. You reach for your candy-flavored Laneige lip mask, spreading it across your plump pout with your middle finger. Another overpriced purchase.

You exit the bathroom, shuffling towards your twin-sized bed and then falling face first into the plush, ivory duvet. So comfy. It wasn’t even midnight and you were ready to hit the hay.

You had planned to study a bit before knocking out, but the warm shower left you sleepy. Plus, the past week has been hell. Two papers and an impromptu quiz from your least favorite professor. You were a good student. A great one, even. But you were an overachiever to the core, and still found yourself stressing over assignments you knew you aced.

You let out a small yawn, squinting at the brightness around you. Along the wall beside your bed were vine garlands, embellished with little fairy lights and pink roses. They were such a pain in the ass to put up. It took you and Mina nearly three hours, and a mental breakdown on your behalf, to stick them against the drywall in the right position. High maintenance, but cute, nonetheless. Kinda like you.

The lights dim as your mind turns hazy, eventually turning into a silent black as sleep clouds your vision. Sweet, blissful sleep. You were teetering into the REM phase when-

Knock. Knock.

The booming noise startles you awake, rattling the brittle wood of your cheaply built door. The wall hangings flutter in its wake.

Maybe you were being dramatic. The knocks were actually soft and melodic. Almost cheerful as they followed the rhythm of a made-up song. But you were pissed. Even the most heavenly sound would ring demonic and evil in your ears at the moment.

You shove yourself off of your bed with an exaggerated groan, stomping towards the door and yanking it open, fully prepared to yell at whoever was behind it.

Jeon Jungkook.

His expression is blank, doe-eyes widening as he takes in your expression. Your body language radiates hostility and violence. The silver barbell glimmers as his thick, dark brows twitch in confusion. He blinks before opening his mouth. “Hey,” he utters hastily.

Under different circumstances, you would be ecstatic.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Jungkook?”

“Woah, someone’s cranky,” he laughs hesitantly. “I was bored. Figured you were, too. Mina is gone, right?”

“Are you drunk or something?”

“What- no,” his plump lips form a pout, the matching silver ring on the bottom corner shining as well.

You sneer at him, pupils darting over his outfit. Oversized gray hoodie, white t-shirt peeking from the unzipped portion at the top. Gray sweatpants. Your gaze lingers on the tight pull of the material in the front. He doesn’t seem drunk, and he isn’t dressed in his usual party attire.

“I just want to hang out with you. Why are you acting so sus?”

You roll your eyes, doing everything in your power to exaggerate your irritation. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, come on, Bambi. Don’t be like that.”

Bambi.

That stupid nickname.

You and Jungkook had met at a party after you were peer pressured into a game of beer pong. The super boisterous, super attractive stranger ended up being your partner by default.

"What do you mean you’ve never played before?" He questioned you, voice laced with devastation when he realized you were about to cost him his undefeated streak.

Despite Jungkook’s best efforts, Mina and her boyfriend, Taehyung, mopped the floor with you.

"You know what, I like you. You’re a little bitchy but-,” he slurred at the end of the night, helping you gather the discarded solo cups, "Also innocent. Kinda like a baby deer. What the fuck was that movie?"

You answered him curtly with a scowl.

"Bambi! Right… I can’t wait to ruin you." He was so wasted that night he ended up vomiting off of the second-floor balcony and onto the class president’s Honda Civic. Not drunk enough to forget the awfully humiliating, yet adorable nickname he had bestowed you.

“Give me one good reason why I should let you in.”

“I have pancakes,” he beams with pride, bunny teeth peeking out. He raises both arms, showing you the crinkled takeout bags in his hands. “Chocolate chip-”

“That’s disgusting,” you scoff.

“And blueberry,” he retorts with a squint. “Please? I won’t be annoying, I promise.”

You let out a contemplative noise. It wasn’t what you had planned for the night, but you guess company wouldn’t hurt. Especially his company.

If only you could mute your evil brain.

“I thought you had plans with whatsherface,” you question, stepping aside to let Jungkook enter your room.

He kicks his slides off at the door, something you’ve drilled into his head with violent words and empty threats. You remember him texting the groupchat a screenshot of his calendar, tonight being marked ‘PUSSY APPOINTMENT’ with the woozy face emoji next to it. The same one that was inked on his middle finger; it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why. Tonight was one of many slots in his month with the exact same title. That picture was deleted from your phone as soon as you received it.

“Sana,” he corrects, face unimpressed like he expected you to keep a mental catalog of all his flavors of the week.

You did. Every time a new name was added to the roster, your heart sank. You would never admit it though.

“I did, but I guess she has a boyfriend now or some shit?” He plops down onto the baby pink area rug beside your bed, immediately digging through the takeout bags.

“How dare she?” You gasp sarcastically, taking the styrofoam container that he held up for you and sitting criss-cross on your bed.

“I know, right? That’s what I’m saying,” he laughs, opening a syrup packet and pouring it over his pancakes.

You cringe, foreseeing a sticky, impossible to clean mess all over your floor. “Please don’t fuck up my rug, Jungkook.”

“I won’t,” he mumbles halfheartedly, bringing the pad of his thumb to his mouth. The tip of his tongue pokes out to kitten lick at the sugary liquid before wrapping his plump, pink lips around it.

He sucks gently and then pulls off with a tiny smooch.

Wow.

Are you really that far gone? There was no denying that Jungkook was attractive. But were you really that touch starved that you were drooling over every minuscule, minute movement he made?

“Maybe she was sick of you stringing her along,” you comment, trying to cover up the fact that you were totally just gawking at him.

“Nah,” he murmurs through chubby cheeks, mouth full of pancake. “She knew it was just sex.”

“Did she though? What about Dahyun?”

“Well aware.”

“Jihyo?”

“Yep.”

“Nayeon?”

“Are you slut-shaming me?” He points his plastic fork at you, bringing the opposite hand to his chest in feigned offense. “Because I feel very attacked right now.”

You playfully nudge his shoulder with your thigh-high sock-clad foot, deciding to drop the subject. To be fair, he wasn’t wrong. Jungkook had a reputation on campus. Every girl who involved themselves with him knew what the outcome would be. He was very blunt about his desires and disinterests. Sex being the prior. Commitment being the latter.

But you suppose remaining detached was easier said than done. Something about him was… magnetic. He was bold, yet soft. Obnoxious, but endearing. A sweet talker for sure. And easily the freest person you’ve ever known. Add sex into the equation, and it must be nearly impossible not to fall in love with him…

Hm. That’s enough thinking for the night.

You need background noise to keep intrusive thoughts at bay. He peeps an ‘I don’t care’ when you ask him what he wants to watch. You take it upon yourself. Sailor Moon it is.

The pancakes keep him preoccupied for a while. You glance down at him every now and then. His eyes sparkle as he watches the cartoon on your phone screen. There’s a little speck of chocolate on the corner of his mouth. His tongue makes an encore appearance, licking it away before fidgeting with his lip. How sinful.

He starts getting squirmy about halfway through the episode. Antsy hands pull at the strings on the border of the carpet below him. Every now and then he draws a shape and erases it. One of the shapes is a penis, something you’d see on the back of a middle school textbook.

He scoots with a sigh, pressing his spine against the edge of your bed, and then bending his head back. Fluffy dark strands tickle your legs as he peers up at you. “Can you play with my hair?”

“Why would I do that?” You huff, hot and bothered by the sudden contact.

“It helps me stay still. Please?”

“Oh, um- okay,” you oblige, gulping like you’ve dry swallowed a huge pill. You cautiously card your digits through his hair. It’s so soft and healthy.

He purrs and closes his eyes.

He's silent once again, enjoying your touch, even pushing into it a bit. Very cat-like.

That lasts for about three minutes. His inability to not speak every single thought that enters the void of his mind takes over.

‘I just realized they’re all named after planets.’

‘Wait, the moon isn’t a planet, is it?’

‘Why are they dressed so sexy to fight space monsters?’

“Jungkook, shut up!”

“But I’m bored,” he whines. “Is this really how you spend your Friday nights?”

“Excuse me, I’d like to see you take STEM classes for a week and then tell me how you feel,” you contend, leaning over to grab your phone off the nightstand. You don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on your nipples. It makes your palms clammy. “Sometimes, it’s nice to just chill.”

“You don’t masturbate?” He asks calmly as if he had just inquired about the weather.

You give him an exasperated look.

“What? That’s how I destress,” he continues, shrugging nonchalantly. “Don’t you have a vibrator?”

“I- no! Why are you asking all these questions?” You shriek, absolutely mortified.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” He lifts his head off of your lap, craning his neck so you can see his appalled expression, your answer leaving him equally as mortified. “Damn, that’s wild,” he tuts in disapproval.

“I would rather not have to smuggle a sex toy into my dorm room, Jungkook,” you retort.

“You can borrow mine,” he smirks, turning his body to face you, obviously relishing in the reactions he’s pulling out of you. “It’s a Hitachi. It’s really strong too, like, most girls don’t even last five minutes.”

“Why do you have- you know what, nevermind actually!” You clench your eyes shut, poking your fingers into your ears and shaking your head dramatically. Your reaction is mostly out of embarrassment and partly because the thought of him pleasing women who aren’t you hurts for whatever reason. “I’m done with this discussion!”

“Seriously?” He wheezes, thoroughly enjoying your tantrum. He wraps his long, nimble fingers around your wrists, pulling your hands away. Your skin burns under the touch. “I want to get to know you more.”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to know-,” you rip out of his grasp, flailing your hands around in circular motions, “-those things.”

“I’m just trying to make conversation,” he frowns.

“About?”

“Anything.”

“Okay, um...” you look around the room nervously, searching for the right thing to say. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Black. What’s your favorite position?”

“Jungkook!”

“I think missionary is my favorite. Very underrated,” he says, tapping his chin like it’s an answer only an intellectual would’ve given. “The kind where her legs are pushed alllll the way back,” he emphasizes the ‘all’ by balling his hands into fists and lifting them up by his head, showing you exactly where he likes them. “You hit the g-spot perfectly that way.”

You level him with a scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. Unamusement written all over.

“Why are you so mad?” He laughs. “What? You’re embarrassed to talk about sex?”

A pause.

“You’re not a virgin, are you?”

“Jungkook, no…” you sigh, rubbing your temples in frustration. “I’m just not like you, okay? I don’t like sex as much as you and everybody else on this fucking campus does!”

He hesitates for a moment as he processes your sudden outburst. The first time you’ve ever seen him rendered speechless. You can picture the cogs turning in that thick skull of his.

He inhales sharply, eyebrows raising up to his hairline as if something clicked. His tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, cute dimple peeping out from the pull. His head drops as he huffs out a laugh.

“What’s so funny, Jeon?”

“Ah, I see now.”

“See what?” You groan, bothered by his vagueness.

“Here's what I think, Bambi,” he mumbles in a low tone, sitting up from his spot on the floor so his gaze is aligned with yours. His palms are on either of your crossed legs, fingers curling into your white blanket. Forcing you to make eye contact with him- his pupils are black, nothing like the soft brown you’re accustomed to. “You’re so uptight because you haven’t had sex in a while- good sex, at least.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You say nothing.

“The guys you fuck don’t know how to treat you, am I right? They can’t make you cum?”

Crickets.

Your lack of response tells him the answer.

When you do speak, your words come out shaky. “Well, what makes you any different?”

He shuffles closer, knocking his forehead right against yours, invading your space. He’s so close that you feel claustrophobic. Your heart pounds in your chest.

“I always make the girl cum.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hums through curled lips as he nods, silver hoops swaying at the motion, nose brushing against yours. “More than once.”

His dilated pupils scan over your body, pausing at your chest for a moment, and then continuing their descent. A hand slides up your bare thigh, the warm touch leaving goosebumps in its wake. He grabs the hem of your shorts between his index and middle fingers, tugging gently. “These are cute.” He licks his lips, making them pink and glossy, like he’s ready to eat you. “I’d like them better somewhere else though.”

“Jungkook…”

And then he's kissing you.

It’s soft, like he’s afraid to scare you away by putting too much pressure into it. Little does he know you’ve been thinking about this for a while.

All your protesting and fighting up until this point was futile. Your hands unconsciously make their way to his cheeks. You swear you feel him smirking. It’s like he can read your mind, knowing exactly how bad you’ve wanted this.

He prods his tongue against your bottom lip, urging you to let him in. You do. He wraps an arm around your waist and guides you down, hovering over you.

“You taste like candy,” he whispers against your lips, hot and needy. Take that, Mina. A sneaky hand cups you through your shorts, right where he knows your clit is. The thin material does nothing to conceal how wet you are. “Do you taste like candy here too? Can I try?”

You’re anxious, but you can’t stop. Not when he’s so enticing. Not when the rumors of his sexual prowess are swimming around in your mind. Jungkook could ask anything of you and you’d gladly obey. You give him a small nod.

“Don’t be nervous,” he teases through an airy laugh, breath fanning across your face. It smells like chocolate and syrup. He turns his head and presses a gentle kiss on your fingertips. You swoon.

Hooking his thumbs into the sides of your shorts, he pulls them below your butt. He dips his head down, biting into the side of your thigh. A predator sinking its teeth into its prey. Not hard enough to hurt. It’s just enough to rip a whine from you. “Fuck,” he grumbles, pulling your shorts completely off. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.”

He’s been wanting this, too?

“Let’s leave these on though,” he sighs, speaking in reference to your socks. It was something you knew he found sexy, overhearing a graphic conversation with Taehyung about kinks and other filthy things. That may or may not have been the motivation behind your purchase.

You cringe. Being naked in front of someone for the first time in a long time was nerve-wracking.

“No panties?” Jungkook asks, looking at you quizzically. “Dressed so skimpy, Bambi. All for me?”

“I didn’t know you were gonna show up...”

“Oh shit, you’re right,” he chuckles, caressing your legs with his large thumbs. You appreciate the gesture.

Cool air brushes against your exposed core when he parts your thighs. His gaze locks onto your dripping center. You whine and cross your arms over your face. Maybe if you squeeze hard enough you’ll revert back into yourself and escape this dreadfully vulnerable feeling.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…” he starts, words dying out because his attention is elsewhere. Jungkook has seen a lot of pussy throughout his life, but yours has got to be the, “prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. So fucking wet.” He settles back onto his knees, hooking his limbs around your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed.

Jungkook watches in awe as he spreads your lips open with his thumb and index fingers, stealing a peek at your shiny center. He takes a long, languid lick from your pussy to your clit. He moans when the wet muscle dips between your folds, eyes scrunching as his feature contorts into a scowl. You recognize that face. That angry face he makes when he tastes something he finds incredibly yummy. It’s the same one he made when he ate his pancakes.

Have you really studied him so much that you’ve picked up on his subtle habits? Nevertheless, the fact that he actually seemed to be enjoying going down on you was jarring. You’ve never experienced this before. It felt so fucking good. You were already close and he has barely touched you. You let out a whimper.

“Mm, you’re so responsive,” he notes, absolutely loving the little sounds you’re peeping. Much different than the blaring moans and screams he is used to. Despite the ego boost they give him, your shy whimpers are a welcomed change. Each one makes his cock twitch, forcing him to bring a hand down, palming himself through his sweats. “When’s the last time someone ate you out?”

“Never…”

“I don’t see why not,” he coos sympathetically, shaking his head in disapproval. He gives you another lick, tongue pressed flat against you. “You taste like lemonade, so sweet.”

That had you absolutely drenched.

You move up onto your elbows, watching as he throws your legs over his broad shoulders. He licks the pad of his thumb, this time actually sinful. He presses it right to your bud, rubbing it before pulling the sensitive skin taut, lifting the hood and exposing your clit.

He tuts his tongue, whispering something so quietly you barely catch it, only making out a breathy iteration of the word ‘tiny’. Heavy eyes flicker up to yours as he places two soft pecks on it, then blows delicately.

“Jungkook, please…”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, “I won’t tease-,” sentiment interrupted with an open-mouthed kiss, “I know how bad you must want it.”

He circles the tip of his tongue on your clit before suctioning his lips around it. You gnaw onto your lower lip, face twisting up in pleasure.

This is easily a far better form of self care than what you had planned.

It’s obvious that this is something Jungkook does a lot. He is a photography major, and has never struck you as someone who is incredibly bright, but the way he touched is strategic. He has spent the better part of the past decade perfecting his craft, studying the way women move their bodies when he applies a certain amount of pressure. The beautiful noises they make when he stimulates them in certain spots. He has the exact equation to make you fall apart.

There is a pattern to it. He latches onto your swollen nub, cheeks hollowing with a few harsh sucks, before licking over it, letting his tongue dip into your entrance. You can’t help the subtle thrusts into his mouth with every glide of his tongue. The consistency had your stomach doing somersaults.

He sinks further down, lapping at your folds, never straying too far from your clit, burying himself so deep into your pussy that the tip of his nose nudges against it. A big palm slides up your torso, reaching under your tank top to grab at your chest, thumb flicking over your hardened nipple.

“Jung- fuck!” You croak, high-pitched and desperate. “I’m close.”

You expect him to pull away. He, instead, acknowledges you with an ‘mhm’, nuzzling even further into your cunt.

You can’t help the instinctual, or more so learned, shame bubbling in your stomach. Your hips jerk away. Legs close tight around his head, attempting to save him from the brunt of your orgasm. He simply pries them back open, nails digging into your inner thigh. You grasp onto his hair, tugging it back as you curse under your breath.

He doesn’t like that.

He pops off of your clit with a sharp, annoyed growl. “Can you stop?” The stern edge in his voice makes you flinch, releasing your grip immediately. “You don’t have to control every situation. Just relax.”

“I’m sorry,” you squeak.

His gaze softens immediately. He didn’t want you to apologize and he definitely didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. “You can touch me, Bambi,” he grabs your hands and places them back on his head, encouraging them to tangle in his tresses once again. “Keep me here, though. Wanna make you cum in my mouth.”

It’s strange, being pampered during sex. Taken care of.

You peer down at him. His mouth and cheeks are dewy, covered in your arousal. Even the tip of his nose is wet. He’s not uncomfortable in the slightest.

You push him down, giving him the green light to continue. The descent is quick. Starting in your stomach before it shoots through the rest of your body. You throw your head back, teeth digging into your lip as you desperately try to stifle the lewd moans threatening to escape.

Jungkook guides you through it, slowing down towards the tail end of your orgasm. He pulls away with a satisfied hum, standing up from his spot on the floor. “Taste?” He asks, squishing your cheeks with his big hand. His tongue licks right against yours when you stick it out, lips closing into a sloppy kiss. “Good, right?”

You don’t really taste anything, but you nod anyway. Maybe a slight hint of citrus. Or maybe you were delirious after the best orgasm of your life. The only partnered orgasm of your life.

His eyes are scrunched, but you can still see the stars in his dark pupils as he smiles down at you. You mirror him with the opposite expression, irises wide and blown out. He giggles, nuzzling into the side of your face and then nipping at your cheek. “You’re like a space girl,” your heart melts at the Sailor Moon reference. “So clueless. I wanna do everything to you. Teach you everything.”

“Like what?”

“Have you ever squirted before?”

You freeze. “No… I don’t think everyone can.”

“That’s not true. Everyone can squirt with a good partner and the right mindset,” he proclaims enthusiastically, shooting you a thumbs up. The tent in his pants on full display.

“Right mindset?” You giggle, raising a brow at him.

“Yeah, it’s pretty intense.” He grabs a half-empty water bottle, your water bottle, off the nightstand, taking a big sip. “I can get you there,” he states, a droplet of water dripping down his chin. “You have to listen to me, though. You can continue your ‘girlboss’ bullshit after I’m done with you.”

You roll your eyes. If any other man said that to you, you would be livid. You would literally rain hellfire upon them. But it’s Jungkook. You know he’s joking, and the soft spot you have for him prevents you from ripping him a new one.

He smiles when you agree, pecking your cheek before unzipping his hoodie and shrugging it off his shoulders. You watch his muscles work. Toned, firm biceps exposed for your viewing pleasures. He recently recolored the tattoos on his right arm.

You remember him venting about his parents’ disapproval of them, and his major, when he walked you to your dorm after a party a few weeks ago. It was the only time you’ve ever seen the fun-loving, jovial man feel melancholic. You coin that night the night you developed... whatever it was that you have for him now.

“Alright,” he gestures to the cotton sweater, now spread out on your bed. “Lay here.”

“Why?”

“I mean…” he looks at you like you’re stupid. “You don’t want to get this wet, right?” He counters, pinching your blanket.

Cockiness just oozes out of him. It makes wetness ooze out of you.

You comply, laying down on the soft material. It’s warm and smells like the delicate linen cologne he normally wears. You bask in the scent.

“I usually use lube for this, but…” he clicks his tongue, knowing you don’t have any. “We can make it work.” Leaning down, he lets a string of spit land on your clit. It tickles as it trickles down your folds. He’s quick to collect it with his fingertips, smearing the moisture all over.

“Take your top off, please. I wanna see those pretty tits.”

It’s barely a top. The jagged, raw hem only conceals half of your perked nipples. How ironic is it that you’re wearing an angel print tank while being absolutely defiled. You sit up, taking it off easily and tossing it on the floor before laying back down.

“It’s not going to hurt, is it?” You wonder, reflecting on his earlier statements.

“Why, you nervous?” He teases with a lopsided grin. It drops when he sees the apprehensive look on your face. “It shouldn’t hurt, but if it does you’ll tell me, right?”

“Right,” you moan, another drop of saliva hitting your pussy.

“Hold your legs up, keep them open,” he orders, sucking back the extra spit with a hiss.

Pink nails curl under your thighs, bringing them up to your chest just as Jungkook instructed. He pops his middle and ring fingers into his mouth, bringing them down to tease at your entrance before slipping in, palm facing up.

There’s an adjustment period, his fingers being much bigger than your own. You’re so aroused that the tenderness subsides quickly. “Fuck,” you yelp when he starts gently petting at your g-spot.

He doesn’t jam his fingers into you carelessly, an unpleasant sensation you’ve been subjected to in the past. His digits never leave you. Instead, they move in a sensual curl that makes you purr. Every touch is focused, intricately placed on that delicious spot.

“Pussy so wet,” his voice comes out as strained as his pants. He sounds so turned on and filled with lust. It makes you clamp around his fingers. He lets out the tiniest moan, using his free hand to grab yours, sucking three fingers into his mouth. “Touch your clit for me.”

You bring your hand down, rubbing side to side. “Uh-uh, circles.”

Immediately, you follow his command. You look so delicious he can’t help himself, bending at the waist to latch onto one of your nipples.

“Please, Jungkook, more…”

“Yeah?” He mumbles against your chest, sending vibrations through the sensitive skin. You nod frantically. “I usually don’t give in this easily, but I think you deserve it. Been such a good girl. You can have more, Bambi.” You know it’s just sex talk. A stream of consciousness fueled by his horniness. All the blood leaving his head to fill his cock, making him more dumb than usual, but you can’t help but feel special.

“It’s going to build up fast, okay?”

You mumble a small ‘mhm’. How bad can it really be?

Jungkook starts moving his hand rapidly, fingers thrashing up and down. There's so much force behind his movements that your hips lift and dip.

You’re overwhelmed. Constant, vigorous stimulation right to your g-spot. A strange swelling feeling starts pooling in your lower stomach. High-pitched whimpery moans and wet squelching noises fill the room.

“J- daddy, fuck!” It is so intense you can’t form a coherent sentence. There’s faint laughter in the background. “No, no, no…” you plead, wrapping your hand around his wrist, nails digging into his skin. It’s too good. So good that it made you scared.

His movements halt. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, too much… fuck!” You shout when he continues at the same intensity, your body thrashing wildly. You feel out of control.

“Shh,” he whispers softly. “You can take it. Just let it happen.”

You inhale sharply, doing your best to calm down. It’s difficult when he keeps touching you like that. Your fingers curl into his sweater, bracing yourself. As soon as you stop fighting that full feeling, as soon as you loosen the tense muscles, it’s going to hit you.

You relax and a wave of the most intense pleasure you’ve ever felt ripples over you.

There’s an intense, world-shattering, euphoric release.

And then nothing.

Your head is empty. Your ears ring. Your vision is distorted by white splotches.

Complete solace.

Your senses come back after a few minutes of heavy breathing. It’s fuzzy, but you can see the ceiling fan swirling above you.

There’s a metallic taste on your tongue.

You can feel droplets trickling down your inner thighs, a damp puddle under your butt, and a warm set of lips on your temple.

“Welcome back to planet Earth,” Jungkook jokes, pushing away the wispy flyaways that stick to your forehead. You blink absently as you slowly make out his features. You swear there’s a glowing aura around him. “You good?”

“So good,” you confirm halfheartedly. “You’re so good.”

“You came so much,” he hums in satisfaction, placing a few pecks against your jaw. Jungkook was actually surprised at how much wetness he coaxed out of you. You just kept on cumming. The prettiest waterfall he’s ever seen. Damp fingers brush up and down your bicep, a comforting gesture. “You called me daddy.”

“Shut up,” you groan, covering your face. “Don’t talk about it.”

“I won’t, it was fucking gross,” he laughs, smiling down at you so genuinely that it reaches his eyes. This was just a hookup, you assume, but he’s just so pretty. You can’t stop yourself from pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. He reciprocates. It feels so intimate. Too intimate for a pair of friends. You’re so tired but you want more. Everything.

“Take this off, please,” you ball the white fabric of his shirt into your tiny fists, mimicking his words from earlier. “Let me see those pretty tits.”

He quirks a brow at you, standing up straight and pulling his shirt off by the collar. It’s discarded onto the floor, with all the other useless, bothersome items.

His tits are pretty. Chest flushed red from exertion, nipples spiked and tiny. His body is fit, but not overly muscular. Lean and toned. Just what you like.

You snake your legs around his cinched waist, constricting his pelvis flush against yours.

“Is it my turn now?” He says, loving your sudden burst of confidence. His jaw goes slack when you start grinding on his clothed cock. There’s a slick spot where your bodies meet, heather gray turning dark as the fabric dampens. Jungkook lets you play with him for a bit, rutting against you until he physically cannot stand it anymore. “I’ve never wanted to fuck someone so bad.”

“Then do it,” you whimper, growing impatient. He sighs, hand coming down to fiddle with the sweater underneath you. You crane your neck, watching curiously as he pulls a square packet out of the pocket.

There’s a sharp pain in your chest when you see it. “Did you plan on us hooking up?”

“Maybe,” he contends playfully. All the amusement in his face disappears when he flicks his bangs back and sees yours. Hurt and disappointed. “I always keep condoms on me, you know that,” he explains, voice soft and wary.

It makes sense. He was sexually active. Very much so.

That scares you. You could possibly be just another girl he’s sexually active with. A last ditch effort to get laid because the first option bailed. The puzzle pieces start coming together.

You look him in the eyes. His pupils are brown again. They look pleading, concerned for your wellbeing. Afraid they’ve tarnished something so delicate. You can’t tell if it’s just your delusions, post-orgasm bliss. All you know is you never want him to stop looking at you the way he is right now.

“Can I put it on?” You ask, pointing at the condom in his hand, desperate to break the tension.

“I- sure,” he retorts, exhaling deeply like he was holding his breath, relieved. He gives it to you, using his other hand to pull his pants by the waistband, stopping mid-thigh. Too rushed and eager to take them off completely.

He didn’t have underwear on either.

You squint, trying to read the white font on the packet. Large.

You glance up, eyes bulging out of your skull when they land on his cock. It’s big. So aroused that it points straight up, resting on his abdomen. The tip is bright pink, standing out against the background of his smooth milky pelvis. It’s shiny with precum, a little bead sitting right at the slight. Your gaze trails up the veiny underside, following the acute upward curve. You gulp.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” you say, jittery hands tearing open the foil packet. You cautiously wrap your hand around the shaft. It’s so firm. Rock solid and touch starved. It jumps in your palm as you slip the sticky rubber down, making sure to stroke him along the way. “Big, thas’ all.”

He nods, the corner of his lips pulling up in a smirk. He can tell your words are equally as worried as they are complimentative, though. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises, holding on to your ankle to lift your leg, kissing it through your white sock. Gaze locked on you, making sure you’re watching and that you know he can be soft with you.

He bends both of your knees up to your chest, tapping your outer thigh, indicating he wants you to hold them again. Tattooed knuckles wrap around the base of his cock, laying it flat against your pelvis. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath when he sees the tip reaches just below your belly button, knowing exactly what to envision when he’s inside you. His cock so deep it’s in your stomach.

He smacks the shaft between your folds. Filthy, wet slapping noises overpower your coos and purrs. The tip tickles your entrance, rubbing up and down your folds, before he brings it to your abused clit again, flicking it up and down like a light switch. Watching your face intently to gauge your reaction, looking for any prick of discomfort.

“Put it in,” you frown, growing impatient.

“So needy,” Jungkook teases, gripping his cock right under the crown and pushing in. Only the tip. He uses his fingers as a buffer, trying not to give too much too fast. Pulling back agonizingly slow and then diving back in, giving you a little bit more length this time. It was only an inch or so, but the stretch burned. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill.

He repeats this process, working you open little by little until he’s buried to the hilt. He lets out a pained grunt, overwhelmed by the way your warm wet walls just suffocate him. “Fuck, tightest pussy ever.”

You clench your eyes shut, trying to ease the feeling of getting impaled. Jungkook is so big. The veins that run along his shaft, the thickness, the curve. He leans down and pecks your nose sweetly. His thumb, rubbing tight circles against your clit, provides a decent distraction. You focus on the pleasure instead of the pain.

“Feel okay, Bambi?” He coos, feeling you relax under him. “Can I move?”

With furrowed brows, he pulls out a few inches before thrusting back in slowly. Heavy eyes glued on the way your lips petal around him when he gives you more. The way they resist when takes his cock away. “Good girl,” he praises, voice raspy as he tries his best to maintain a slow, shallow pace. “You take it so well.”

Any pang of discomfort is gone. He prepped you so well that there’s no friction, just seamless glides in and out of your leaking cunt. The upturned tip of his cock tickles that sweet spot in you. You moan, digging your almond-shaped nails into your thighs, arching your back for more.

Jungkook sees your body language. He knows what to do in this situation. One of the most useful sex tips he’s ever learned. He leans forward, pressing his chest against yours, swollen lips latching onto your neck. They suck a sore spot that his tongue quickly soothes over. “Hold on to me,” he commands, wet pout smushed to your skin.

You let go of your thighs, leaving little crescent indents on the surface, and throw your arms around his shoulders. Hooking your knees into the bend of his elbows, Jungkook hoists you up effortlessly, supporting your weight with his large palms on your ass. The change in position spreads you even further, slides him in even deeper.

“Mmm, f-,” you moan, words cut short when he starts bouncing you up and down on his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Mmm, I knew it,” he chuckles sadistically, right into your ear. “I knew you were just waiting to be ruined. So fucking high-strung and- fuck!” He can feel your arousal dripping down to his balls. “Controlling.”

Arguing is pointless. You swear he's in your head, the tip of his cock scrambling your brain around so that you can’t even think straight. All you can think about is him.

You cling to him, resting your cheek against his shoulder as he lifts you in the air. Letting him have his way with you. You’re never felt more alive.

‘Orgasms are the pinnacle of the human experience,’ you recall Jungkook telling you one day at the library. At the time, you rolled your eyes. Now, you know exactly what he meant.

“You just needed some dick, huh? My dick?” You nod, drooling against his skin. “Doesn’t it feel good to let go?” All you can get out is a little moan.

A glint flickers in the corner of your eye. Mina’s mirror. It’s leaning against the wall right in front of you. You can see the expanse of his back. The taut skin on his shoulder blades. Biceps bulging as he moves you. His pants slid down to his knees, so you can see his cute butt dimpling when he thrusts up. Muscles working to make you cum.

“Okay,” he huffs, more to himself than you. Your pussy was so good that it derailed his original plan. Jungkook tosses you up a little, getting a more secure hold as he wraps an arm around your waist. The motion makes his cock slip out, the loss of contact makes you whine.

His free hand tosses his soiled hoodie out of the way. You cringe, making a mental note to mop tomorrow morning.

He places one of your fancy, cooling-gel pillows on the edge of the bed, laying you down on top of it. Your hips are elevated, tilted upwards. Giving him a clear view of your glowy core. He catches a glimpse of the only place he hasn’t destroyed.

“What about this?” He coos, pressing the pad of his thumb right against your clenching hole.

You squeak, shaking your head. Baby steps.

“Alright,” he chuckles, hand retreating promptly. “Maybe next time.”

He wants to do this again. Your heart flutters.

You watch as he guides himself back in, stuffing you to the brim in one swift motion. Much less cautious than earlier. His cock hits your g-spot perfectly. The pillow and his curve doing wonders. Your eyes roll back as your head hits the bed. “Like that, right?” He laughs, snapping into you.

“Yeah, Jungkook,” you moan out, gripping your ankles and bringing them up by your head, just how he likes. “Don’t stop.”

He could’ve busted right then and there.

“Fuck, keep saying my name,” he groans, eyes glancing up to your perky tits, jiggling freely with every snap of his hips. His pupils sneak down further, watching his cock plow into your tight, wet cunt, leaving it dewy.

You call his name like a metronome, ‘Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook’. Voice airy, following the rhythm of his hips. It makes him move harder and faster, feeling that familiar pooling at the base of his shaft.

Just like everything about him, his strokes are fluid. His hips aren’t locked and stiff. They move in a dip and roll that makes your toes curl. His pelvis mushes against your clit when he thrusts all the way in, balls smacking against the curve of your ass. It feels delicious. Your third orgasm of the night is approaching fast.

“You cumming, Bambi?” He hums, already recognizing the way your thick brows pull together when you're close. The way your hips rut a little, naturally guiding you to your orgasm.

“Mhm, make me cum Jungkook,” you mewl.

He hovers over you, placing his hands on top of yours, bending your legs back farther. Taking long, violent plunges into you. So close to a piledriver. He’s basically fucking you into the mattress, bed frame cracking against the wall beside it. One of your vine garlands falls down, but you’re so close you can’t even bring yourself to care.

Your climaxes blend together. You first, clenching and unclenching around his length. Moans coming out sporadic and your shoulders off the bed. Legs trembling in his hands.

His orgasm is stunning.

“Ah- fuck. I’m cumming,” he croaks through snarled teeth, head dropping to watch where you connect. Something he does often, you notice. He doesn’t stop, even after he spills into the condom, fucking you until he’s completely drained. You whimper, sensitive from the overstimulation.

“Damn,” Jungkook huffs out a laugh, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. You fist the wavy strands at the back of his head, a little damp.

“Thank you,” you speak shyly.

“I know you’re new to this,” he lifts up and looks at you quizzically, amusement tickling his features, “But that’s kinda a weird thing to say after someone fucks you.”

You laugh with him, eyes darting over his face. He has a small scar on his cheek, something you’ve never noticed before.

“No, I just mean-” you cringe when he pulls out of you, feeling empty. “You’re the only guy who’s ever… I don’t know. You’re just different.”

He smiles with twinkling eyes, tying a knot at the end of the condom and tossing it into the pink trash can beside your nightstand. “You’re different, too,” he mirrors, plopping down onto the bed next to you. “Special.”

Special.

You sigh into his lips when he gives you a soft peck, thumb brushing against the newfound mark of his face. “I’m sorry that I made you do all the work.”

“Nah, don’t worry. Making you feel good makes me feel good.” His words are sweet but there’s a naughty glint in his eyes. “Besides, you can think of this as a practice round.”

“Practice round?”

He hums in conformation, tapping your ass lightly, making it ripple against his hand. “Alright, go take a leak before you get a UTI.” He laughs when you push his shoulder. The same old blunt, shameless Jungkook.

He stops you before you disappear into the bathroom. “I hope this won’t make things awkward between us. Like, we’re still friends, right?”

Friends.

It takes all of your strength to give him a nod. You ponder over his words as you clean up in the bathroom. Why did you feel so... conflicted? You’re so happy, but you’re also kinda sad. It’s like your mood solely depends on Jungkook. His words have the power to pull you in whatever direction he pleases. You stare at yourself in the mirror.

All these emotions must mean you have a crush on him.

You sigh, flicking off the light and then heading back into your room.

Jungkook is hunkered down in your sea of pillows, soft snores leaving his parted lips. Chest rising and falling steadily. Hair messy, fanned around him.

He looks so beautiful and peaceful.

You tilt your head at the sight. He always told you that he never spends the night after a hookup.

The blanket is only covering his pelvis, strong legs poking out from underneath. His sweats are still on his ankles. You giggle, attempting to slide them off without waking him.

“Bambi,” he mutters sleepily, opening his big arms. “C’mere.”

You feel your cheeks heat up. You shuffle into bed, throwing the covers over both of your bare bodies.

He wraps his arms around you, pecking your forehead before drifting back into slumber.

Fuck.

What have you gotten yourself into?

9K notes · View notes

genshinluvr · 1 year

Text

Suitors

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: Many people in Teyvat knows about your relationship with twenty-five men. Though, they disregard it and continue to try to set you up with someone they know. What happens when one of your "suitors" ends up being wanted by the Fatui?

Note: I guess this counts as a filler-ish story, not entirely sure 🤔 For those who are wondering about the new smut series poll and when it'll close, I will close it when the fic is about to be written and it's planned out. So far, the first chapter isn't planned out but I do have the top 10 so far with the most votes. I've been busy with submitting assignments for my final week of winter classes, so this fic may not have turned out how I wanted it to. 🥲 Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Would the reader drinking three glasses of champagne count as a warning?

Word Count: 9.1k

It’s a known fact that you’re dating these handsome twenty-five men of all forms of life, from humans to archons to Onis to half-animal beings, etc. You’re never alone when you’re in Teyvat. When shopping for ingredients, you’re accompanied by Thoma and sometimes another man in your relationship circle. Oftentimes, when you go to the Akademiya, Al Haitham, Tighnari, Kaveh, and Cyno are the ones walking you to school. Everyone at the Akademiya knows you’re close with the Acting Grand Sage. You like to tease Al Haitham for his title and call him by it, knowing it’ll annoy him a tiny bit when you call him by that title.

But just because you’re dating these twenty-five handsome men does not mean your relationship with these men is going to last long, according to the people that have approached you (and disregarded the men’s presence) to ask you to do a favor for them. When they ask you for a favor, you assume it’s to assist them with something! Like homework, if you’re at the Akademiya. But it’s something else you never think about.

The elderly man holds your hands and gives you a sweet smile. “You’re young, intelligent, and very social! Are you single by any chance?” He asks.

You smile at the man. “Thank you! And to answer your question, I—”

The man cuts you off.

“Wonderful! I have a grandson who is around your age! I think you two will make a fine couple!” He says, giving your cheek a squeeze.

Childe lets out a fake laugh, his eyes twitching while holding back from smacking the old man’s hand off your cheek. Childe turns to look at the other men, his lips pressed into a thin line, his face turning red from holding his breath. The other men were giving the elderly man a strained polite smile.

Childe grabs your bicep and pulls you to his side. “I’m sure your grandson will find someone amazing! Unfortunately, that amazing person for your grandson will not be our dear lover,” Childe says, wrapping his arm over your shoulders.

Gorou nods. “Childe is right! We’re sure your grandson will find someone almost as amazing as [Y/N], but [Y/N] is not single!” Gorou says, looping his arm around yours protectively.

The old man looks at Gorou and Childe, surprised by their comment. Before the man could open his mouth to reply, Childe and Gorou whisk you away with the other men close behind. It was supposed to be a lovely day in Sumeru with your boyfriends. You all had finished lunch an hour before and were about to go cloud-watching. But this old man approaches you and your boyfriends, starting a conversation with you.

The conversation started with him asking you about what it’s like to be in the Akademiya because you were in your Akademiya uniform! He then started talking about his grandson, telling you how the man is in his mid to late twenties and yet still doesn’t have a significant other! You joked and said maybe the grandson will find someone as magnificent as you one day, and now here you are.

Heizou chuckles. “You’re quite the talk around Teyvat, aren’t you? I’m starting to think we should put you in disguise when we go outside the abode,” Heizou jokes.

“Aw! Trying to hide little ol’ me?” you tease, reaching toward Heizou and pinching his cheek. “What if someone asks you where I am and would assume I’m single?” You ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

Everyone stops in their tracks and thinks for a moment. You weren’t wrong. If they put you in disguise to hide you away, many people will assume you either broke up with the twenty-five men, or they’re cheating on you with someone else. Okay, so maybe putting you in disguise or going out into Teyvat without you would be a bad idea.

Aether shoves Heizou to the side and gives you a smile. “We’re not going to do that! In fact, let’s all get necklaces of [Y/N]’s name on it, and [Y/N] will have necklaces of our names!” Aether suggests, propping his hands on his hips with a weary smile.

You blink at Aether. “I don’t think twenty-five names would fit on a single chain. Plus, if all of you were to put your names on necklaces for me to wear, the chain is going to get tangled,” you say.

While you don’t mind wearing necklaces with their names on them, you kind of wish you never mentioned it to your precious twenty-five boyfriends. Because now there’s a huge chance these men are going to make it happen without your knowledge and have you wear it when you go out, which you don’t mind, but switching out necklaces feels like a chore.

“How else do you expect others to know you’re in a relationship with all of us?” Venti asks, gazing at you curiously.

You scratch your cheek. “I think it’s obvious for outsiders to see I’m dating all of you,” you say, gesturing toward the twenty-five of them. “I’m not sure if you all realize it, but you’re all clingy and are not afraid to profess your love for me,” you giggle.

Xiao huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, if it’s obvious, then why do people continue to approach you and ask you to date their sons, siblings, grandsons, and cousins?” Xiao demands, frowning at you.

You purse your lips and turn away. You sort of thought it was obvious why other people wanted you to be with someone they knew. The people that approach you assume your relationship with the twenty-five men is temporary until you’re able to live on your own in Teyvat. Then again, whenever these people approach you, they would whisper it to you before talking at a normal volume.

You smile at Xiao and stroke his hair. Xiao blushes and looks away nervously, reaching for the hand that’s stroking his hair and lacing his finger with yours. Xiao is so cute! Xiao tugs you forward from Childe’s arms and wraps his arms around your waist, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulders.

You sigh and close your eyes. “I’ll explain it to you all once we get back to the abode. Do you guys want to continue to hang out in Sumeru, or do you just want to go home?” You ask, tracing the tattoos on Xiao’s biceps.

“I kind of want to explore the desert to search for scarabs, but after what happened today, I want us all to return to the abode and avoid old people,” Itto huffs dramatically and sticks his nose in the air.

You nod. “Back to the abode, it is!” You say, clapping your hands.

Having people randomly approach you and ask if you’re in a relationship is something you never expect. Mainly because people in your world never approach you and ask you that question, ever. The first time it happened was a surprise, but the more it happened, the more you grew tired of it, and so did the men.

You and your twenty-five boyfriends are sitting at a restaurant in Mondstadt, celebrating your eight-month anniversary! Yes, it has been eight months since you and the twenty-five men have been dating! Time went by faster than you expected. Here you are, dressed up and looking cute for the occasion, while the men are looking dapper in their custom-tailored suits.

Diluc leans close to you and whispers, “You look beautiful tonight, sweetheart.”

You blush and smile at Diluc shyly. “Thank you, honey! You’re looking handsome yourself!” you reply.

Diluc reaches for your hand under the table and gives your hand a gentle squeeze. You squeeze Diluc’s hand in return and press a quick kiss on his cheek. Diluc smiles and nuzzles the tip of his nose against your cheek. You cover your small laugh with your hand and lean against the redhead.

The sweet moment between you and Diluc was interrupted when someone tapped your shoulder. You and Diluc turn to look in the direction of the person that tapped you on your shoulder, assuming it was Zhongli that needed to speak to you about something. But when you and Diluc turn to the right, there is a blond man standing behind your chair, looking anxious.

You and Diluc sit properly in your seats, acting as if you two didn’t act like a high school couple just a few seconds ago. You grab the menu and point at the dish you want to order, assuming the anxious blond man is a waiter at the restaurant.

“May I have the—”

The man’s eyes widen. “Oh! No, I’m not a waiter here!” The blond man says, waving his hands in front of him and shaking his head with a nervous smile.

You blink at him and close the menu, putting it back on the table. “Oh, well,” you trail off, looking at the men quizzically. “Is there anything I can help you with?” You ask, placing your hands on your lap and giving him a polite smile.

“I noticed you from afar and couldn’t help but feel this… Connection between us!” The blond man says dramatically.

Zhongli raises his eyebrows at the blond man skeptically. “You feel a connection between you and [Y/N]?” Zhongli asks, sipping his drink without taking his eyes away from the man behind you.

The man looks at you in awe, and a smile appears on his face for a brief moment. “[Y/N]? That’s your name?” The man asks breathlessly.

You nod in response. “That’s correct!” You answer lamely.

He gulps and tugs at his shirt collar, his pale face turning redder the more time ticks by. The conversation around you slowly dies down as the men start to direct their attention to the man behind you. Diluc did not look pleased, knowing what the man was up to.

The man exhales slowly, his cheeks almost as red as Itto’s horns. “I was wondering if perhaps after your meal with your coworkers, you would be free?” The man asks.

“Coworkers?” Thoma chokes on his drink, coughing into his elbow.

You blink at the man before you and sigh, reaching for your drink and lifting it to your lips. “I’m not free after dinner. I’m celebrating my and these men’s eight-month anniversary,” you reply nonchalantly.

“Of being coworkers?” The blond man asks dumbly.

Dainsleif snorts from across the table, covering his mouth with his hand. “You haven’t even introduced yourself to [Y/N]. What makes you think we’ll allow you to leave the restaurant with them?” Dainsleif asks, narrowing his eyes at the anxious Mondstadt man.

The blond man’s eyes widen, and he clears his throat. “I apologize for not introducing myself earlier, [Y/N]! My name’s Lukas Schmidt, a native to Mondstadt and an owner of a local brewery!” Lukas says, holding his hand out for you to shake.

“Oh? A brewery, you say?” Kaeya interjects, resting his elbow on the table with curiosity.

Lukas nods. “That is correct! I own a local brewery, and business has been quite busy that I wasn’t able to go out and meet someone,” Lukas sighs dramatically.

Ayato makes a face. “Interesting. Now, do tell us about this connection you supposedly feel between you and our precious [Y/N],” Ayato says, crossing his arms over his chest.

You lean back in your seat and let yourself drown out Lukas’ explanation to the twenty-five men sitting around you. Lukas assuming you and the men to be coworkers, is something you did not expect to hear.

Quite frankly, you’re surprised that Lukas didn’t know about your large dating circle with these handsome men. Then again, Lukas did claim that his brewery business has been busy, so maybe that could be the reason? Either way, you’re wondering how you and your boyfriends even look like coworkers when you and Diluc were very cuddly just a few minutes before Lukas approached the table.

“I don’t know how to explain it! I feel drawn to [Y/N]. It’s like there’s a string attached to the both of us, pulling me toward their direction!” Lukas says, his cheeks turning bright red as he attempts to explain this so-called connection between you and him.

Albedo turns to look at you, propping his chin on the palm of his hand. “What about you, my comet? Do you feel any connection with this man?” Albedo asks, looking at the brewery owner from the corner of his eyes.

“The only connection I’m feeling right now is between me and this mushroom pizza!” You said, reaching toward the pizza tray.

A smirk appears on Kaveh’s face as he flicks his hair off his shoulders. “You were saying?” Kaveh asks sassily.

Lukas sputters while you take a bite out from the slice of pizza, swaying in your seat as you happily chew the cheesy mushroom pizza. Al Haitham looks at Lukas with a small glare, leaning back in his seat with his arms over his chest.

“Since [Y/N] has indirectly confirmed that they do not feel any connection toward you, it's best you leave all of us alone,” Al Haitham says, closing his eyes.

A small gasp can be heard coming from Lukas. He turns to look at you, placing his hand on your bicep and giving you a pleading look. Zhongli and Diluc reach for Lukas’ arm, gripping it so tightly that they could snap his arm in half if they were to apply any more pressure.

Lukas whispers, “Please, [Y/N]. Perhaps if I explain it to you a little more clearly, you’ll understand what I’m saying!”

You scratch your head awkwardly while holding the slice of pizza in your left hand. “Lukas, even if you explain what this connection feels like, I won’t be able to feel it. Besides, I’m in a relationship,” you say, taking another bite of your pizza.

Lukas was about to respond when Cyno stood up suddenly, walking over to Lukas. Lukas gives Cyno a weary look, slowly backing up from your seat. Tighnari sighed and rubbed his temples, unsure whether he should stop Cyno from intimidating Lukas for letting Cyno continue out of pure entertainment and as a lesson for Lukas to learn. Tighnari decides not to interfere this time, watching the scene unfold.

Cyno stands behind your seat, his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s evident that [Y/N] is not interested in you, Lukas. No matter how much you try to convince them that you two are a perfect match, they’re in a relationship with all of us,” Cyno gestures to the twenty-four men sitting at the table.

“They’re dating twenty-five of you?! How is that even possible? How does the relationship even work?” Lukas exclaims, looking at everyone in disbelief.

You shrug your shoulders and reach for your drink. “I’m dating all of them, but to them, I’m dating them individually, you understand? They’re not dating each other, either. They’re only dating me,” you explain, sipping your drink.

Lukas laughs in disbelief, running his hands through his blond tresses. “So, what you are is Teyvat’s biggest whore, is what I’m hearing,” Lukas sneers.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Tighnari says, slamming his hands on the table and standing up.

Scaramouche, Kazuha, and Baizhu escort Lukas out of the restaurant before Lukas can cause any more scenes. You sit there, contemplating what Lukas had called you just a few seconds ago. You poke the inside of your cheek, letting out a soft “huh.”

“All because I’m in a relationship and all because a man like him can’t handle rejection,” you comment, putting the cup on the table.

Pierro sighs and shakes his head. “Please do not take offense to his words. He is a weak-minded man who gets his feelings hurt easily,” Pierro spats, glaring at the restaurant door.

If you weren’t interested in Lukas Schmidt in the first place, his calling you a whore was a cherry on top. You wanted to burst out laughing in his face. You weren’t sure if he called you that because you were dating these men or because you rejected him.

Either way, you weren’t surprised that Lukas went from being infatuated with you to calling you Teyvat’s biggest whore. How typical for a man of his caliber. It’s laughable and pathetic. Kazuha, Scaramouche, and Baizhu soon return to the restaurant, looking visibly irritated. Scaramouche wipes the blood in the corner of his mouth and plops down in his seat.

Scaramouche clears his throat. “I made sure that he won’t be bothering us ever again,” Scaramouche states, tapping his fingers on the table.

“Oh? How so?” You ask, looking at Scaramouche curiously.

Kazuha clears his throat. “We can’t tell you what happened, or else it’ll ruin the element of surprise,” Kazuha says, shooting you a smile.

“You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?” Baizhu asks.

You shake your head. “I’m pretty sure I should be the one to ask you three that question,” you said, eyes landing on the faint blood stains on their ironed tuxedos.

Pantalone leans back in his seat with a glass cup of wine in his hands. “They look fine to me! I’m pretty sure the blood stains on their clothes don’t belong to any of them,” Pantalone chuckles, sipping the red wine.

You and the men continue the anniversary date as usual. This time, instead of you sitting between Zhongli and Diluc, you switch seats with each man so you can sit beside every man without making them move. Though the seat changes happen every time you finish eating something, whether it’s a slice of pizza, a sweet madame,

You didn’t mind changing seats every now and then. As long as you get to eat something, you’re not complaining. The anniversary dinner has come to an end, and you were on the brink of passing out.

“Someone ate a little bit too much,” Dottore snickers, watching Capitano scoop you in his arms and carry you bridal style out of the restaurant.

You snuggle up against Capitano’s chest. “Can you blame me?” You mumble, closing your eyes before covering your mouth with your hand and yawning. “At least I’ll get a good night's sleep when we get back to the abode,” you say.

“You didn’t eat too much, did you? Do you remember the last time you did that?” Capitano asks, not taking his eyes off what’s in front of him while carrying you in his arms.

You shake your head. “I didn’t overeat, I promise,” you reply.

The last time you ate too much food was at the Windblume festival. There were many festival-themed foods at the concession stands, and you wanted to try every food and snack the vendors offered. And what happened three hours later? Your stomach started hurting a lot, you could barely breathe, and finally, you threw it all back up for the next three hours. Since then, you have been a little bit cautious with the amount of food you ingest.

The second time someone approached you was more…. Interesting and things were offered to you. And by things being offered to you, you mean Mora. You’re at a party on the Pearl Galley with your beloved boyfriends. At first, when you and the men received the party invitation, you were a bit miffed when you saw where the party was located. The Pearl Galley is an interesting boat, and you’re not a massive fan of it. But for this party in particular, there were no prostitutes— much to your surprise, but you’re relieved.

Although despite the prostitutes not being on the boat for the party, you continue to feel uneasy about being on this particular boat. To be frank, you would rather be on the Crux than the Pearl Galley. Anyway, back to the party. It’s a black-tie party. Everyone is wearing the fanciest dresses and tuxedos they have, and everyone on the ship looks dazzling. Even with the fanciest clothing you have on, you continue to feel out of place.

“You can all roam around the boat if you’d like. I’m not forcing any of you to keep me company,” you say, sipping on the champagne.

Ayato shakes his head. “We know how you feel about this boat. We want to keep you company and make sure you’re okay,” Ayato replies.

“Besides, it's not like we’ll wander off and find a prostitute to sleep with while the party is going on,” Childe laughs.

You press your lips into a thin line and stare at Childe. Itto smacks Childe upside of his head with a glare. You take a deep breath and down the champagne. The men look at you worriedly. You’re not the type to drink any alcohol or liquor, but when you do drink it, it means something is bothering you, and you need to distract yourself.

You hold the empty champagne glass up. “Oh, my! Empty already? I’m going to get another drink,” you say, giving the men a fake smile before walking away.

The men watch you walk over to the snack and drinks table, keeping yourself distracted with food and drinks.

Itto sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “You really couldn’t keep your mouth shut on that one? Now [Y/N] is going to be overthinking and drink away their worries with champagne,” Itto says, gesturing over to where you’re standing.

“For once, Itto is correct. That comment was unnecessary, Harbinger. Even if it is a ‘joke.’ You know how they feel about the Pearl Galley,” Xiao huffs.

While the men are scolding Childe and trying not to draw attention to themselves, you’re currently taking small sips of your second champagne of the evening while snacking on cheese, ham, and crackers. It’s a simple snack at the event, but you need something to keep you occupied. Therefore you are crafting your mini snack sandwich while taking occasional sips of the champagne. You’re so occupied (thankfully) with the snacks you don’t notice an older gentleman approaching you at the snack table. The man clears his throat to grab your attention. You look up from your small plate of cracker sandwiches and blink at the man owlishly.

The older gentleman before you has salt-and-pepper hair and a beard, and he is wearing a black suit (like every other man on this ship). You couldn’t tell what region he came from for this event, but he looked too old for your taste. Wait a minute—

“Excuse me, are you perhaps [Y/N]?” Asks the older gentleman.

You nod robotically. “Yes, you’re speaking to [Y/N],” you say, taking a sip of your champagne without taking your eyes away from the man.

The man’s eyes light up. “Wonderful! May I ask you to do me a huge favor for not only myself but for my son and my family?” He asks, clasping his hands together in front of him.

Back to where the men are all standing, Heizou notices you talking to a strange man at the snack table. You look shocked and flustered, tucking your hair behind your ears while trying to find a way to speak to the older gentleman in front of you. Heizou narrows his eyes and holds his hand up, grabbing the others' attention from scolding Childe.

“Who is that man, and why is he speaking to [Y/N]?” Heizou asks, pointing in your and the man’s direction.

Aether shrugs. “I have no idea who that man is, but he looks like an important figure,” Aether murmurs, stroking his chin while leaning against the railing of the ship.

“Should we step in?” Thoma asks nervously, watching you give the man a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

You reply something to the man before grabbing the plate, beginning to make your way toward where the men are standing. The look of panic flashes across the man’s face for a brief moment before he runs to stand in front of you, blocking your way. You stop in your tracks and stare at the man with a deep frown, your shoulders tensed, and your grip tightened on the plate and champagne glass. Your reaction reminds Gorou of a hostile kitten, back arched, fur standing up, tail puffed out, claws ready to strike.

Scaramouche clenches his jaws. “Guess we’ll have to teach someone a lesson tonight,” Scaramouche grumbles, pulling up the sleeves of his buttoned-up shirt.

“Please, [Y/N]! My family and I need you to do us this huge favor! Without your help, we wouldn’t be able to achieve our goal!” The man says, his hands twitching, getting ready to grab your wrist to prevent you from walking away from him.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in your offer.” You stated firmly.

You begin to walk around the man, only for him to grab your biceps.

“Please! You can’t just pass up on the offer! What do you want from me? I can give you whatever you want!” The man sputters.

You look at the man and tug your arm from his grasp, but he tightens his grip, leaving finger indentation on your arms. You sigh and take a deep breath. Great. Now, what are you going to do with this man? He’s very desperate for your help, and you’re not sure what else to do. You have rejected his offer prior, but his desperation is sad.

You clear your throat. “What I need you to do for me is to leave me alone, sir. I declined your offer a few minutes ago. Nothing in the world can convince me to do you that favor,” you said.

With one final tug of your arm, the man lets go, and you turn to walk away, only to almost walk into someone’s chest. You step back and see Pierro and the other men standing there, glaring at the man behind you. None of the men looked too pleased with what they had just witnessed.

Pierro crosses his arms over his chest. “May I ask what’s going on here?” Pierro asks gruffly.

The man huffs loudly. “It is none of any of your businesses!” The man retorts, rolling his eyes.

Dainsleif glares at the older man and gestures for you to walk to him. You walk over to Dainsleif without hesitation and stand behind him while holding onto his right arm, peeking from Dainsleif’s shoulders.

“It is certainly our business when the person we love is involved,” Dainsleif states, tightening his grip on your hand.

Kaeya smirks and steps forward. “You look like a knowledgeable man. How come it’s hard for you to accept no for an answer?” Kaeya asks, raising an eyebrow at the older man in front of him.

“What did you ask them that made them react in such a way?” Kazuha asks, standing beside you and wrapping his arm around your waist.

The man looks away, refusing to answer. He sticks his nose up in the air with a loud huff of breath, crossing his arms over his chest. The men rolled their eyes before turning to look at you worriedly. You shake your head and down your second glass of champagne of the night. You don’t know how many glasses of champagne you’re going to need to drink to forget about the man’s offer.

Diluc places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I don’t think you should be drinking too much, sweetheart. Remember how you hate alcohol and how it tastes?” Diluc reminds you.

You poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue before answering, “I do hate the taste of alcohol, but after hearing the man’s offer, I’m going to need a couple of glasses to forget.”

Zhongli stares at you quizzically, his eyebrows furrowing. “What did he offer to you?” Zhongli asks slowly, turning his head to the side to look at the man.

You look over at the man and gnaw on the inside of your cheek. The man stares at you, waiting for you to respond to Zhongli’s question. The way the man was looking at you is like he’s challenging you in a way. You don’t like it. It feels like he’s mocking you. You let out a slow deep breath, looking at your empty champagne glass.

“Why don’t you all keep me company at the snack table. I’m in need of another cup of champagne,” you say nonchalantly.

You walk toward the snack table, brushing past the older man after giving him a side-eye glance. The men give each other looks before following after you, making sure to bump shoulders with the man when they walk past him. Scaramouche smirks and not-so-subtlely zaps the man in his ribs, causing him to jolt and yowl in pain.

Cyno snickers and high-fives Scaramouche before tucking his hands in his slacks and walking to the table where you and the other men are standing. You shove two cracker sandwiches in your mouth and reach for a napkin and another glass of champagne.

“Now, care to explain to us what happened between you and that old man over there?” Kaveh asks, looking over at the man from a distance.

Cyno reaches forward and wipes the crumb off the corner of your lips. “And don’t eat too fast. You’re going to choke,” Cyno mutters, shaking his head.

You swallow the cracker sandwich and wipe your lips with the napkin. “I would rather die from choking on the cracker sandwiches than take up on that old man’s offer,” you groused, sipping your third glass of champagne.

“What did he say to you that is making you drink your third cup of champagne?” Al Haitham demands, towering over you while looking at you with concern.

You sigh loudly and place your plate and champagne on the table. “To be honest, I’m still trying to take time to process what he offered to me.” You reply, scratching your arm.

“What did he offer?” Tighnari asks wearily.

You purse your lips and debate on whether you should tell them what the man offered or if you should tell them to forget it and continue to enjoy the party on the… Pearl Galley. On second thought, perhaps you need another drink. You reach for your champagne, preparing to down your third champagne of the night, but Albedo quickly snatches it from your grasp with a head shake.

“I think you’ve had enough drinks for the night, starlight. Drinking too much isn’t good for you, and you know that,” Albedo chides.

“Great, what am I going to drink now?” You mumble, sticking your bottom lip out.

Venti pats your shoulders and gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sure you can drink water! We’re worried you’re going to drink too much and have a nasty hangover the next day,” says Venti.

“Now, spill it. What did that old man say to you?” Pantalone demands, narrowing his eyes while tapping his finger on his biceps.

You sigh and lean on the table. Here goes nothing. “The man begged me to marry his son so his son can live, and be a permanent citizen, in Inazuma because his son has been studying abroad there for almost a year, and he doesn’t want to return to his home country,” you reply.

“Marry his son?” Baizhu asks, looking at you incredulously.

Dottore shakes his head. “No, you are not going to marry that man’s son just because he refuses to return to whatever region he’s from,” Dottore states, clenching his hands into tight fists.

“Plus, you’re not even a citizen of Inazuma. What gave him the impression that you’re an Inazuma resident?” Capitano asks.

You run your fingers through your hair with a shaky laugh. “I don’t know! I told him I was not going to do it! And then….” you trailed off, closing your eyes and rubbing your temples with your fingers.

You’re starting to get a headache. You’re not sure if it’s from being on the ship for too long, if it’s the champagne, or if you’re feeling overwhelmed by the things that had happened within a few hours of you being at the party. Either way, you want to leave the Pearl Galley, return to the abode, and sleep.

“And then….?” Gorou repeats, anxious about hearing what else you’re about to say.

You open your eyes and let your hands fall at your sides. “This man is so desperate for his son to live in Inazuma that he offered to pay me twenty million Mora. Twenty million Mora just to marry his son and for their entire family to be citizens of Inazuma,” you conclude, propping your hands on your hips.

“Twenty million Mora for that? Quite frankly, I have way more than that,” Pantalone mutters, puckering his lips, taking a cracker sandwich and eating it.

Diluc shakes his head. “No matter how much Mora that old man offers you, do not take it. It’s sketchy, you’re already in a relationship, and you’re not a resident of Inazuma,” Diluc says, clenching his jaws.

You give Diluc a weak smile. “Don’t worry about it, Diluc. I shot down his offer the minute he presented it to me,” you say.

“But he’s been persistent about it,” Ayato mutters, looking over at where the man stands with a glare.

You nod in response. “Unfortunately. The old man has been very persistent, and I don’t know what else to do! I told him no, and he won’t accept no for an answer!” You say. “I need a drink,” you muttered.

“Did he even tell you his name? If he’s willing to offer you twenty million Mora to marry his son so he and his entire family could be residents of Inazuma, then he must be an important figure in Teyvat, no?” Aether asks, stroking his chin.

You shrug in response, take the champagne glass from Albedo, and chug it. You’re starting to feel buzzed, but you don’t think three glasses of champagne is strong enough to make you forget about the offer. That and the fact you’re on the Pearl Galley. A boat where many go to sleep around and gamble their life savings away. Or something like that.

“Do you want us to find out who his son is? We can do that for you if you’d like! After all, it’s part of our job as a Harbinger,” Childe offers, propping his arm on your shoulder.

You sigh and wave your hand around. “I don’t really care who he or his son is. I just want to go home and go to bed,” you say.

“Yelan is going to be disappointed. She invited us all to the party and looked forward to seeing us there. Especially you,” Xiao mutters, looking at the woman from a distance.

Your hands are itching for another champagne. Archons, you just want to go home. You’ve been here for a short time, and many things have gone to shit faster than you expect them to. You didn’t even get to speak to Yelan about the party, but it looks like you’re going to have to call it a night. Plus, the longer you stay at the party, the more you’ll be drinking, and you’re not usually the type to drink alcohol.

You shove a cracker sandwich into your mouth. “If you all want to stay at the party, you can stay. I’m not forcing any of you to go home with me,” you say with your mouth full. “Plus, if any of you stay, please tell Yelan I said hello and apologize for me because of how early I left,” you added.

“We’re not going to let you return to the abode alone while you’re almost as drunk as that old geezer over there,” Thoma says, gesturing toward another party guest, tripping over his feet.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, please. I only had three glasses,” you mutter.

You turned around and made your way toward the exit of the boat. You weren’t sure if its because the ship was on the water, but you were having a little bit of a hard time walking. You’re swaying on your feet and can barely walk in a straight line. Kazuha chuckles and wraps his arms around your waist, helping you step off the Pearl Galley.

Kazuha murmurs into your ears, “I believe three is your limit in alcohol,” Kazuha murmurs.

You rest your head on Kazuha’s shoulders and close your eyes. “Not gonna lie, I kind of regret drinking three glasses of champagne,” you whisper to Kazuha.

“That’s right, [Y/N]. You should regret it! Did you learn from your mistakes now?” You hear Tighnari ask from a distance.

Oh, right. You forgot that Tighnari and Gorou have a keen sense of hearing. How could you forget about that so easily? On to Tighnari’s question: did you learn from your mistake? Well, you chugging three glasses of champagne wasn’t a mistake. You knew what you were doing, and it was not a mistake. Therefore, not really, but did you regret drinking three glasses of champagnes? Yes, because now you can kind of walk in a straight line, but with Kazuha’s help.

You wave off Tighnari’s comment, saying, “All of you can scold me when we get back to the abode.”

Fast forwarding to the next day, you woke up with a headache. While you didn’t drink too much alcohol, you certainly drank more than what you usually consume. And that is three glasses too many. You bury your face into your pillow and pray that no one knows you have a hangover. They’re going to say, “I told you so,” and basically rub it in your face while scolding you simultaneously.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the door. You peek from under the pillow, hesitating on whether you should answer or you should continue to pretend that you’re still sleeping.

“We know you’re awake,” You hear Gorou say from behind the door.

You toss the pillow off your head and sit up. “How could you tell!?” You ask, staring at the closed door with shock.

The door opens, revealing Gorou, Itto, and Baizhu. Itto points at Gorou and toward the hallway.

“Gorou and Tighnari say you breathe a certain way when you’re asleep and when you’re awake. When everyone is asleep, their breaths are even and steady compared to when they’re awake,” Itto explains, walking toward your bed and plopping down beside you with a grin.

Baizhu hands you a pill and a glass cup of water. You give Baizhu a tight smile before taking the medication and glass cup from his hands. You pop the pill into your mouth and chug the water, wincing when you feel the pill get caught in your throat for a second before going down your throat when you chug as much water as you can.

Baizhu props his hands on his hips. “How are you feeling today? Do you have any pounding headaches, feel nauseous, or feel like you got hit by a mitachurl in any way?” Baizhu asks.

“I do have a headache, but it’s not as bad. I don’t feel nauseous, thankfully. Nor do I feel like I got hit by a mitachurl,” you reply, wiping your lips and putting the cup on your nightstand.

A knock is heard on your door. You lean to the side and look at the door to see Heizou standing there with a smile. You returned the smile and waved for him to enter your room. Heizou runs his hands through his hair and waltz into your room.

Heizou clasps his hands in front of his chest. “I have news regarding the man who wouldn’t leave you alone last night,” Heizou says.

You look at Heizou with wide eyes, shocked and surprised to hear the men had identified the man from the party at the Pearl Galley the night before. Actually, you didn’t expect them to track down information about the older gentleman. I mean…. Knowing Childe and the other Harbingers, they would definitely hunt the older man down for what had happened the night before. That, and because of the twenty million Mora being offered to you just to marry his son.

“I have a feeling everyone is going to need to know about this, so I’ll get up from my bed now,” you mutter. “Oh, but let me brush my teeth first,” you say.

You quickly brushed your teeth, combed your hair, and used the toilet. Thankfully, you can feel the medicine Baizhu gave you start to kick in. You walk out of the bathroom, and Itto offers to carry you downstairs. Since you did have a hangover, you might as well let Itto carry you down the stairs to where everyone is waiting for you. Itto squats in front of you, his back facing your direction. You hop on Itto’s back and wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

Itto, Gorou, Baizhu, and Heizou walk out of your room with you in tow. You bury your face into Itto’s back when you feel a faint pounding in your head. While the pain medication Baizhu gave you did help ease your headache, you can still kind of feel it. It’s there, but not as present as it was when you woke up today.

You hear Venti chirping, “Ah! There they are! And they have [Y/N] with them as well!”

You wince and continue to press your face against Itto’s back, tightening your arms around his neck. Itto gives your arm a reassuring squeeze.

Zhongli sighs. “And I see they have a hangover. Luckily, I brewed some tea for you to drink while we discuss this matter,” Zhongli says.

Itto lowers you to the ground, helping you sit on the seat between Dottore and Cyno. Zhongli slides the teacup over to you. You give Zhongli a grateful smile, take the teacup and begin sipping from the ceramic cup. The tea is still warm. It’s very herbally with a hint of ginger. You’re not an avid tea drinker, but you needed to drink some tea for your hangover.

You clear your throat, wiping the small droplets of tea from the rim of the cup. “Heizou informed me that you guys have some information on this man?” You murmur.

“That we do,” Pierro nods.

Everyone goes silent after Pierro replies, making you suspicious of what they are going to say next. They all traded looks with each other as if they were debating on who would be telling you the news and who was not going to be the one to do it. It’s almost like a silent argument between twenty-five people, and you’re just watching them make weird facial expressions at each other while mouthing something.

Dottore lets out a long exhale, rolling his eyes. “Fine! I’ll do it!” Dottore says, turning in your direction before giving you a sweet smile. “[Y/N], darling, the man who has been bothering you is Boris Ivanov. He is from Snezhnaya. While his record is clean in Snezhnaya, his son, not so much,” Dottore explains.

“What’s his son’s name?” You ask anxiously.

Capitano props his leg on the ottoman in front of him. “His son’s name is Aleksei Ivanov. A few months ago, he borrowed millions of Mora from the Northland Bank in Liyue but failed to pay back the bank. He is currently on the run and is trying to seek refuge in a closed-off region. Hence why he wanted to marry you, even though you’re not a citizen of Inazuma,” Capitano says.

You did a double-take. “Hold on, you guys said that this Aleksei man borrowed millions of Mora from the Northland bank and failed to repay the Fatui. How come his father offered to pay me twenty million Mora to marry his son?” You cocked an eyebrow at the men. “I don’t know about you, but something is not adding up!”

“Aleksei’s father refused to give his son money after getting in trouble with the law many times. While Boris can help Aleksei pay off the debt he has with the Fatui, Aleksei does not want to put that burden on his father,” Scaramouche replies, rolling his eyes.

You pursed your lips. “And yet Aleksei wants to put that burden on me? A complete stranger who is also dating a few of the members of the Fatui?” You raise your eyebrows. “It’s going to put a target on my forehead, too, you know?” You ask, poking the center of your forehead.

Kaeya chuckles and ruffles your hair. “Relax, you’re not going to get harmed,” Kaeya says, giving you a suave smile.

You stare at Kaeya blankly and turn to look at the others. “What is Kaeya implying, and why do I have a bad feeling about this?” You ask, pointing at the tanned man behind you.

“On a scale from one to ten, how would you rate your acting skills?” Al Haitham asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Oh no, they’re up to something, and you know they won’t tell you what they’re up to until you answer their pressing questions. You pinch the bridge of your nose and down the tea that Zhongli had brewed for you. You put the ceramic teacup on the table, wishing the tea was champagne. Just when you thought you were going to finally have a break from the things that have been going on for the last few days (maybe even weeks, you lost your sense of time since the first incident).

“I don’t know? A five, maybe? What are you buffoons up to?” You ask, sitting back in your seat with your arms over your chest, poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue.

“Baby, we love you, and we care about you a lot. Can you do us a huge favor?” Kaveh asks, batting his eyelashes at you.

Your eyes widen. “Baby? Oh, this must be a big deal because you’re not calling me an abyss mage this time!” You said, reaching forward and pinching Kaveh’s cheek.

Dainsleif interjects, “Technically, you’re doing a favor for the Harbingers. I’m against you doing this because it’s dangerous.”

You give the men a weary look. “What do you have in mind?”

The men give you a fake smile while the Harbingers start explaining to you what you’re tasked to do. This is your first undercover mission for the Fatui, and it’s weird and nerve-wracking. Dottore and Pantalone jokingly called you an honorary member of the Fatui, earning a heated glare from Diluc and him immediately shooting down the title. And now here you are, sitting in Komore Teahouse, waiting for Aleksei to show up to the teahouse a few days after the men devised a plan on how to capture Aleksei.

You let out a shaky sigh and start to mess with the small decorations in the teahouse. “I’m not going to be alone with Aleksei, am I? I don’t feel comfortable with being alone with him,” you confess.

Albedo squeezes your hand. “We’re not going to leave you alone in the teahouse with Aleksei. All of us will be in the teahouse but hidden from plain sight,” Albedo explains.

“You have nothing to worry about. All you need to do is talk to Aleksei and get to know him. You don’t have to do anything else after. One of the Harbingers will jump in and take it from there,” Tighnari reassures you, squeezing your shoulders.

Cyno crosses his arms over his chest and analyzes the teahouse with disinterest. “Are you sure this is going to work? Aleksei has been on the run for who knows how long. Do you think he’s stupid enough to fall for it?” Cyno asks.

You shrug. “One way to find out is to wait and see,” you reply.

Everyone ends up leaving the main room you’re sitting in. Because Thoma is familiar with Komore Teahouse, he volunteered to play as the host of the teahouse. About fifteen minutes later, Aleksei finally shows up at the teahouse. You expected Aleksei to be on edge and constantly looking over his shoulders to see if there were any looming Harbingers in the shadows. Still, he looked relaxed and did not seem to be tensed at all.

Aleksei sits across from you, his back facing the entrance, while sipping on his tea happily and eating the onigiri with eagerness. The way he ate the onigiri made you assume he didn’t eat anything on the way to the teahouse.

“Your father begged for me to marry you so you and your family can be citizens of Inazuma,” you said nonchalantly, tracing your fingers over the rim of the cup.

Aleksei rolls his eyes and swallows the onigiri in his mouth, wiping his mouth on the napkin. “How much did he offer you?” Aleksei asks, tapping his fingers on the table.

“What did he not offer me? I was taken aback when he almost got on his knees for me to marry you,” you reply, resting your head on your hand. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Aleksei shrugs his shoulders. “Well, what do you think? Are you going to help me and my family, or what? I… did something stupid, and now I can’t do anything to get rid of my problem.”

You raise your eyebrows. “I don’t know, Aleksei. I had many suitors in the past, and many people begged me to date or marry their son, cousin, grandson, and nephews. I’m a picky person when it comes to finding a significant other. What makes you so special out of all the candidates?” You ask, tapping your fingers on the table.

Aleksei smirks and leans forward, mimicking you by resting his head on the palm of his hands and tilting his head to the side. You look at Aleksei skeptically, waiting for him to answer your question. You don’t like how he’s looking at you, nor do you like how close he is to you. The distance between you and Aleksei seems to have gotten smaller.

Aleksei reaches across the table and places his hand over yours. “Other than my father offering you Mora, I have a few things in mind to convince you,” Aleksei winks at you, lacing his fingers with yours.

You suddenly have the urge to puke. You swallow the bile that slowly made its way up your throat and give Aleksei a fake smile. Aleksei reaches toward you and brushes your hair away from your face, tucking a stray hair behind your ears.

You look away from Aleksei and let out a sigh. “And what do you have in mind exactly, Aleksei?” You whisper.

Aleksei gets up from his seat and walks around the table, sitting beside you. You look at Aleksei with wide eyes as he closes his eyes and slowly leans forward. Right when Aleksei is about to press his lips against yours, a hand suddenly reaches out from behind the curtain and rips Aleksei away from you. You nearly let out a loud sigh of relief when Childe seizes the blond Snezhnayan man.

“Sorry to interrupt your little date, but I don’t appreciate seeing another man having the gall to kiss the love of my life,” Childe says, squeezing Aleksei’s shoulders tightly.

“Love of your life?!” Aleksei sputters, gazing at Childe in disbelief before looking at you with wide eyes. “You’re in a relationship!?” Aleksei shrieks.

You puckered your lips and looked away from Aleksei, twirling your hair around your index finger while pretending you didn’t see a thing. “Oh please, he’s one of my many other suitors. Did you forget about that already, Aleksei?” You ask, scratching the back of your neck.

“You—”

Childe rolls his eyes and signals for the other Harbingers to enter the room. Aleksei’s face turns pale with fear and realization. He begins to thrash around in Childe’s grasp, only for Childe to tighten his grip around Aleksei’s wrists.

“Aleksei, it’s been a while. Care to chat with the five of us?” Pantalone asks, raising his eyebrows at the blond man before him.

Childe drags Aleksei out of the room, the other four Harbingers circling around Aleksei to make sure he doesn’t escape. You sigh and rest your head on the table. You look over at the menu, contemplating whether you should order alcohol or not. Wait, do they offer alcohol at a teahouse?

“That went on longer than I thought,” Aether says, walking into the room with his hands in his pockets.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, no kidding. Aleksei almost kissed me! He has fish breath, too,” you shuddered. “What took you guys so long to intervene!? I was suffering and nearly broke character so many times!” You throw your hands in the air.

“I’m impressed you were to stay in character for this long. You looked like you wanted to throw a teapot at his head,” Cyno commented, the corners of his lips quirking up.

“I did. Being alone with Aleksei for some time is torturous.” You mutter, getting up from your seat and stretching your arms. “What would’ve pulled this performance together would be if you all stepped into this room one by one, professing your love for me, but that would be suspicious and weird..”

“We could, but we wouldn’t do that,” Ayato says, giving you a teasing smile.

You pout and look away. “I know, can’t someone like me dream?” You grumble.

Scaramouche leans in, placing his hand behind his ear. “What was that? We didn’t hear you,” he smirks.

You roll your eyes. “I said I need a drink!” You huff, making your way toward the exit. “I need to forget Aleksei and his fish breath,” you said.

Albedo wraps his arms around your shoulders. “Did you happen to forget that you made a promise with us that you wouldn’t drink anymore?” Albedo asks.

You rest your head on Albedo’s shoulder and close your eyes. “Unfortunately, I do. I also made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t be drinking as well,” you mumbled.

You and the men return to the abode, making sure the citizens who would usually approach you in the city wouldn’t see you leave the teahouse. You’re not prepared for another proposal or matchmaking from anyone. But if anyone does dare to propose to you or beg you to marry their son, nephew, cousin, brother, etc., you will start asking the men when they will pop that question. How else will other people in Teyvat know that you and the men are committed to each other? You don’t need any other suitors at the moment. You already have twenty-five suitors and are unsure when you’ll expand your dating circle.

Note: Not gonna lie, I kind of want to make a taglist just for the new smut series, but I'm not sure if I should do it or not 🤔 Not sure how I feel about this fic overall since I typed it out while having to deal with turning in multiple assignments in one week before my spring break 🥲 Hope it's at least decent. I just know the ending is meh, but anyway, I will be keeping the poll open for Burning Desire until further notice. I'll let you all know when the polls are closed! Anyway, 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!

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siriusleee · 8 months

Text

shot through with gold

“I smashed the whole house to bits,” Johnny keeps going, turning to put the milk in the refrigerator. “Had to get Simon over here to help me put it back together. It was his idea by the way. To get the mug fixed. He said you’d be mad if it was gone when you came home.”

tags: coming back home, implied torture, capture, smut, riding, reader is afab, mentions of medical procedures, mentions of blood word count: 7.7k author's note: This was a commission by the best and brightest @gazs-blue-hat. If you'd like to commission a fic, visit my ko-fi for more information. Also, I refuse to disgrace the good country of Scotland by attempting to do the full Scottish accent. Readers call sign is Sparrow, but it's only used once.

The room is heavy with dust; small puffs cloud around Johnny’s boots as he pads across the plush carpet. The summer’s oppressive heat makes the walls sweat - you’d be worrying about the mold forming in the drywall if you could see it. But Johnny doesn’t think of the way his handprints smudge on the paint you spent weeks agonizing over or the way your perfume lingers in the still air even after all this time.

His singular mission - to grab a few shirts he needs and leave - is the only thought he allows himself to think about, hands combing through the dressers and eyes trained downward, away from all the pictures hanging on the wall. He avoids your side of the dresser, avoids the lace that still peaks out from your top drawer.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, Johnny ignores it as he pulls the shirts he came to look for out of the dresser drawer, tucking them beneath his arm. He follows his tracks in the dust back out, eyes cast down at the carpet. The whole trip takes less than 10 minutes; he doesn’t let himself look up until he’s slamming the passenger door of Simon’s truck shut behind him.

“Got everything?” Simon asks, shifting the truck into drive.

Johnny sits ramrod straight in the seat, eyes avoiding Simon’s as he buckles in.

“Yeah, got everything.”

Your fingers trace over the marks you’d carved into the soft stone wall. You’d tried to keep a tally mark of days, but time slipped by in odd increments within your cell. Some days you’d watch the sunrise from the cracks in the ceiling and after just a blink, the inky blackness of night would be seeping in. Sometimes the sun hung in the sky for months before finally falling to the full moon. No matter how hard you tried to decode the pattern, the moment you had it everything would reset.

The guards were in on it; they had to be. They’d bring your meals at odd times - sometimes you’d still be full from the moldy slop they shoved in between the cell bars, spilling it out onto the floor like you’re an animal in a cage, and sometimes you’d be so hungry that you could barely crawl to eat.

It was supposed to be someone else - you were pulled for guard duty after another soldier slogged off and broke his foot doing something stupid while training. You’d finally been pulled to work with Johnny, three days away from being a full transfer to the 141 when your C.O. had appeared at the door of your bunk, new orders in hand.

A simple guard duty: get the guy to where he was supposed to be going, hand him off, and fly home. Your transfer could wait an extra forty-eight hours. But your plane was shot down somewhere over the middle of nowhere - you had told your C.O. that flying that low was a risk, but the desert was empty and the plane was old. They’d been making the flight for weeks, ferrying men back and forth with no hiccups. Your flight should have been no different.

It should have been someone else.

You couldn’t remember what had hit your small passenger plane: but the ground was David, and you were Goliath. You’d hit the ground beside the pilot’s head, his mouth formed in a soundless scream, and after a quick flash of black, had woken up to a bucket of water being poured across your face.

Whatever language your captives screamed at you, you didn’t know it. And if they knew any of the ones you screamed back at them: Spanish, Arabic, German, they didn’t let you in on it. You couldn’t figure out what they wanted until they’d ripped the Union Flag from the breast of your vest, a quick picture on a Polaroid camera snapped above you before you realized what they wanted.

Blood dribbled down your chin when you laughed at them: the government didn’t even pay for soldiers who got captured at war. What would they pay for your half-broken body to get shipped back in a wooden box? A simple mistake that could be written off as a plane malfunction.

The anger had come first, feet and fists slamming into the men when they appeared at the cell doors. Nails ripped from their beds when you tried to claw at the seams in the walls. It had cost you a few teeth and a pound of flesh. And then, when you were tired of the endless beatings and anger that went nowhere, you begged them to kill you, to do something to end the torment. By the marks on the wall, it took months before you first asked to be killed, and only weeks later for that to end, each request met with silence and a sneer. Now you lay in the corner, waiting for the few moments when they’d let you out to see the sun glinting off of the mountain ranges, the clouds threatening to storm in the distance.

Those quick trips seemed to come with less frequency as time slipped by.

You trace the tattoo on your thigh; they’d cut through it once after you kicked one of them in the chest, his ribs caving beneath your feet, but even beneath the dried viscera and matted dirt that covered your skin, you could still see Johnny’s name there.

You wonder if he’s picked a gravestone for you yet.

The two of you had talked about it, once. It was the nature of your jobs - to be prepared for everything that could come your way. Your wills were done: 75% to Johnny, 15% to your sister’s kids, and the rest to a local charity. Johnny wrote in that you were to get 100% of everything he owned, and you had chided him about it.

“What about your mom? Your sisters?” You had asked across the steam from your cup of coffee. Johnny had shrugged, dropping the black pen onto the table with finality.

“Already taken care of, birdie.”

After that had come the talk of headstones and burial plots. Of missing bodies and cremation. You had told Johnny that whatever he thought you’d like, to pick out. You weren’t picky about it.

You wonder if the military let him put his last name on the stone.

A decidedly male voice shouts from around the corner, and you pull back into the stone wall. Seconds later, fetid food falls through the bars. The man shouts at you, pointing at the food on the ground. Lazily, you turn your head towards him, watching the way he sneers at you through the bars.

They must be getting angry then. No ransom came through after all these months.

You bare your teeth at him.

You’d rip his throat out if you had the strength to do so anymore.

Johnny’s fingers don’t shake like they used to when he buckles the strap of his helmet, the night vision goggles weighing him down. He’s tired - exhausted. The entire convey smells of cigarettes and sweat. Heavy men in heavy gear press around him; across from him Gaz’s eyes shine terribly bright in the darkness. They press in on Johnny, forcing him back into his seat heavily.

Price’s voice is loud in his comms, intermingling with the sounds of the Marines and the whir of the mechanics beneath his feet. Johnny can’t make out the details over the sound of the truck rumbling beneath him.

“Steady Soap?”

Gaz knows - Johnny doesn’t know how Gaz can do this kind of job with the way he fucking oozes empathy. Or sympathy. Johnny could never remember which one was which, he always had to ask you which one to use. Gaz had been the only one who’d asked him if he was alright; Simon had lingered at the edges of rooms Johnny was in to keep an eye on him, and Price tried to give him an extended leave. Johnny had refused.

But Gaz had been waiting until Johnny was sitting outside of some bar a group of Seals had taken them to - a celebration for a job well done months after you were gone, after Johnny's failed attempt to find you.

“You good?” Gaz had asked, fingers twirling a cigarette he would never light.

“O’course.”

It had made Johnny feel like shit to lie to Gaz, and the same feeling washes over him as Gaz’s eyes linger on Johnny.

The warm summer air washes over them; sweat is starting to coat his lower back, his fatigues keeping him too warm. The smell of the desert, of warmed sand keeps him grounded, reminds him of where he is - what he’s doing here.

In the glint of the moonlight, the mountaintops shine at him.

The first few missions had been difficult: he’d fought like hell to try to search for you, fuck the regulations. He’d resign if it meant finding you. The rest of the fucking government didn’t care: no one on the plane was as important as anyone else, not to the officials anyway. Johnny had done just that, his resignation had landed heavily on Price’s desk, only to land in the trashcan a moment later.

Gaz volunteered to follow Johnny, but Price had cut that off quickly. It was to be Johnny and Simon only. They had five days, a week at most before they had to be back home.

The farthest they got was the plane wreckage, a little burnt-out village miles away, and sheep that stared at them from the sides of the mountains. But he couldn’t find a trace of you or a singular person who even recognized the photo of you he kept tucked inside his gear. Even after Simon had disobeyed Price’s orders to return home now after weeks had passed. They didn’t find anything.

Johnny knew that’s why Price had volunteered the 141 for this mission - a small-time terrorist cell hiding out in a country they didn’t belong to, a small promise of the bodies of missing soldiers hidden somewhere.

It was something.

The guards are panicking; the dirt walls shake around you. You can’t guess what it could be: American pilots doing a blind bombing, Russians pretending to send help only to rain down hell on the perceived innocent. Maybe God’s here to level the land and flood it. Try again. Do something different this time.

He could start with your cell, you think, scraping at the dirt on your leg. Underneath the sun-starved skin is paler than it should be. If you ever leave, you think, the first thing you’re going to do is eat a fucking steak in the sunshine. The bones that refused to set correctly ache beneath your bruised flesh.

The sound of gunfire pierces the inescapable silence. Your captors yell, screams punctuating between the bursts of firepower. Good, maybe they’ll tear each other apart and leave you here to die in peace.

Maybe it was a poker game gone extremely wrong. Someone asked to strip when they should have been ponying up the cash.

Smoke pops in the hallway outside, you don’t run from the white creeping in on you, just pull the rags that were your shirt over your mouth to try and keep breathing. It overtakes your cell; you watch as the smoke creeps through the cracks in the ceiling.

The sounds of war flood the small cell - the taste of blood and gunpowder in the air around you. You can taste the iron when you breathe in. It coats your tongue. You run your teeth across the chipped and broken enamel, mixing the taste of other’s blood with your own.

Someone shouts so close this time you can almost make out the words - American accent thick and heavy in your ears - and it stirs something inside of you. You try to navigate the cell through the smoke, rolling painfully off of the pallets your captors had so kindly turned into a bed for you. Crawling across the excreta and mud you try to make a sound, but you haven’t spoken in months.

Your throat is raw, and the sounds that come from you are barely human. You’ll be surprised the men even hear you, let alone notice you there on the ground. You try to pull yourself up at the bars, but the fracture in your ankle that healed up wrong weeks ago keeps you on your knees.

“Hey-” you finally croak out loud enough for one of the men to cast his eyes down at you. “Please.”

He’s so familiar, the softness in his eyes tugging at something familiar inside of you, the sharpness of his shoulders calling to you. You pull yourself up, leaning heavily on the bars and the one ankle that doesn’t scream at you, hands slipping through the bars to try to reach towards him.

His gun drops, swinging loosely on its strap as he steps towards you. His fatigues are filthy, and his nose wrinkles beneath the cloth mask covering his face. You know you smell terrible, and you want to apologize for it, but you can’t make the words come. He looks so tired as he steps towards you, hands reaching out to grip the bars between the two of you.

“Sparrow?”

“Johnny?”

It takes days for you to make it home: IVs from field medics who barely know what they’re doing, anti-viral meds, shots, stitches. They don’t even let you take a real shower until you’ve landed at a base you barely recognize. It’s a painful process, a female nurse wiping at you gently, but still peeling away layers of skin with each pass of the washcloth, your sobs muffled by the shower.

Johnny waits for you on the fringes of all the people that press around you, poking you, prodding you painfully until finally, you find yourself slammed into a British hospital bed.

Johnny comes in the moment they let him, hands held behind his back in a mock parade rest. You barely recognize him, his mohawk almost completely grown out and bags under his eyes. You know you don’t look much better; you’d caught sight of yourself in a mirror before they’d forced you into bed. Ruined was the only word to describe what you saw. Too thin, too broken. Too torn apart to be stitched back together. At least not without all the types of therapy a military doctor listed out to you: hydro, occupational, physical, mental.

Neither of you know what to say, so you start with the last thing the doctor told you.

“They’re going to rebreak my ankle tomorrow,” your voice is still thin, full of isolation. You’d tested it out on everyone who’d been in to work on you, but it didn’t sound right at all. Johnny shuffles nervously where he stands, and then rushes forward to sit in the chair beside your bed. He’s moving wrong, you think, like a wind-up doll. Too slow and then all at once, too fast.

“Why?”

“I healed up wrong.”

Johnny’s hands play with the edge of the blanket that dangles off of the bed, eyes trained on the fabric. He’s not going to look at you. At the ruin you’ve become. You press yourself down harder into the thin mattress, hands tucked beneath your thighs to keep them still.

“Is it going to hurt?”

You can’t help but smile at his question, your toes twitching beneath the blanket that feels so out of place across you. How many months had they had you? A year? No one had told you yet.

“They said I’d be fucked up on medicine. But probably, yeah."

Johnny’s hands aren’t still against the blanket, instead reaching out towards you. The movement startles you, and you jerk to the opposite side, nearly pulling your IVs out. Johnny pulls his hands back, crossing them across his chest.

“When you -” his voice breaks, just a moment before he put it back together, eyes finally meeting yours, “when you come home I’ll bring the bedroom downstairs so that you don’t have to walk far.”

You have the nagging suspicion that he changed what he was going to say at the last moment.

"Are you going to sleep on the couch with me?" You try to tease, but your voice falls flat, unpracticed. But it still makes Johnny smile, sharp incisors digging into his chapped lips.

"I'll sleep wherever you tell me."

The two of you are surrounded by the sounds of the hospital: the beeps of the heart rate monitors, the sounds of the nurses' quiet conversation outside of your room. You trace your hands across the blanket, grasping Johnny’s whenever your fingers collide with each other.

For a moment, neither of you move, just languish in the feeling of each other’s skin; you’re too busy tracing Johnny’s palm to notice him pushing himself closer to you until he kisses you, softly but with a tight undercurrent of desperation, his hand tightening almost painfully on yours.

The feeling of someone touching you so gently after weeks of rage and anger nearly stops your heart. The monitor goes crazy; Johnny pulls back, just the hint of a smile on his lips.

It takes four weeks for Johnny to get the go ahead to bring you home. Each day you were in the hospital he would come for a quick chat before work, bringing you breakfast he picked up. Every day after, he would collapse in the chair beside your bed, smelling of sweat and gunpowder.

The smell made you recoil when he tried to kiss you, and he didn't try again after that, even after you tried to stutter out a why. But the day the doctor tells Johnny that you can go home, you awaken to Johnny outside of the hospital room, arms crossed as he speaks to the head doctor - Johnny looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him off the battlefield.

Everyone rotates around you as if you’re not there, packing the room up, pulling your IVs out, fingers prodding and poking you until a nurse aide wheels a wheelchair into the room for you.

”Ready?” She asks, locking the brakes. She looks at you from across the room, and you know what she wants. Starting the day after they rebroke your bones, they made you get up and start walking, and you push yourself off of the bed, walkable cast heavy against the tile floor.

Johnny’s in the room in a second, catching sight of you whenever he sees you stumbling over your cast across the room. The aide lets him push her out of the way, his hands gripping the wheelchair as you lower yourself down.

“I can walk out, you know.” You grumble at Johnny as he tosses a heavy folder into your lap.

“Hospital procedure, birdie.”

Simon’s truck is waiting for the two of you in the parking lot, Simon in the driver's seat. He throws a glance at you as Johnny helps you clamber into the backseat, crowded around by grocery bags.

“Hello, Luv.”

“Hello, Simon. Thank you for the ride.”

Simon opens his mouth to speak, black hospital mask sliding up, but he’s cut off by Johnny clambering into the passenger seat.

You watch Johnny from the backseat, foot propped up beside you. His hair has grown out too long, the Mohawk nearly disappeared and his beard has started to grow in. In all the years you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him anything other than clean-shaven; even in the field, he'll butcher himself with a knife before he lets it grow in.

He’s thinner than he should be, too. You wonder if he’d been eating like he was supposed to.

The drive home is disorientating, Simon taking turns too sharply, too quick for your still queasy stomach. By the time Johnny helps you climb down from the truck, dropping your hands quickly when both of your feet are on the ground.

The house is clean, too clean for Johnny to have been here alone. Like he can sense you'd skepticism, Johnny speaks from ahead of you.

“I’ve hired a cleaner,” Johnny says, holding the door open for you. “So don’t worry about anything.”

It’s odd to be back home; you trace your fingers across the knick-knacks you’d collected throughout the years, the furniture you’ve spent years picking out. You have memories of sitting here with Johnny, memories of Simon and Gaz laughing from the kitchen. But now all you feel is lost, a bottle floating in a foreign ocean.

You wander into the kitchen, fingers trailing against the wall - there are no dirty dishes in the sink, no food in the cabinets; Johnny wasn’t living here.

The only dish you recognize is sitting on the counter, you pick it up, feeling the unfamiliar weight in your hand.

“It’s called Kintsugi.”

The Japanese word rolls heavily off of Johnny’s tongue, your fingers pause tracing the golden lines that cut through the mug. It was your favorite, a gift from when you and Johnny had first met. The two of you met at a diner, out with mutual friends. You’d thought it was cute, the name of the diner printed across the front in vintage lettering. Johnny had swiped it for you, hiding it beneath his jacket until the two of you parted ways at your doorstep.

“What happened to it?”

“I broke it,” he admits, dropping the grocery bags onto the counter. Your fingernail can’t find any snag in the glaze, any sign that the mug has never had the golden lines cutting through it.

Johnny busies himself with unloading the bag, speaking without looking at you as he confesses.

“After you were taken, I spent weeks searching for you until Price forced me to come home. I was angry, and I smashed it.”

You can feel the frown sketched onto your face; you don’t look at Johnny as you set the mug down on the counter.

You lean against the counter and watch Johnny busy himself with the groceries.

“He was right,” you admit, feeling silly over the sadness that fills you over the broken cup, “but maybe that’s something Simon has a lot of experience with broken things ya’know.”

You and Johnny orbit each other for weeks: he’s there every day until you begin to question if he’s gotten himself fired to stay home with you. He drives you everywhere, and if he can’t, Simon waits for you just out past the front gate, no doubt on Johnny’s orders.

“I had a lot of time off,” he says one day, elbow-deep in the laundry that he dumped between the two of you, eyes cast on the television. “Never had a reason to take it before.”

Your hands smooth the wrinkles out of one of Johnny’s shirts, fingers picking at the loose string. Today had been talk therapy, recommended by the SAS doctors. They were strict about all the requirements you had to meet if you ever wanted to go back, and laying on a shrink’s couch for two hours a week was one of them.

The graying doctor had asked you if you had spoken to Johnny about the anger that still wells up in you, the dreams you have of tearing your captives to pieces with your hands, the internal self-flagellation you went through every night when you thought about the career you’d worked so hard for, and have now lost.

You had spent the rest of the day thinking about what he said, even when it meant not paying attention to the medical doctor’s order when they were cutting your cast off, but Johnny took in every word.

You almost say something then, tossing Johnny’s shirt onto his pile, but the wrong words come out.

“You need a haircut.”

“Yeah?” Johnny’s hands still around a pair of your shorts, you feel him watching you in his peripheral vision. “You want to cut it?”

Of course, you did; you spend more moments than not thinking about how his hair must feel like long if it’s still soft. But every time the two of you tried to touch each other, the other pulled away.

So when Johnny takes your hand, and pulls you up the stairs, you let him - hand heavy and warm in your own.

Johnny lowers himself onto the closed toilet seat; you feel unsteady as you approach him, clippers in hand, and you’re not sure if it’s from the closeness or the weight of your cast being removed.

“Are you sure you trust me to do this?” You ask again; since you’d come home your fingers had been a kind of clumsy they’d never been before.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Johnny keeps his eyes trained on you, fingers tapping against the tight denim stretched across his jeans.

“I can scalp you bald,” you admit, switching the clippers on, “and then you’d look like a Q-Ball for eight weeks.”

“I’ll be the best damn Q-Ball anyone’s ever seen,” Johnny says, beard twitching as he smirks at you. If he notices the way your fingers tremble when you take his jaw in your hand, he doesn’t say anything.

His eyes close at the feeling of the clippers cutting through his hair, no doubt the feeling of the weight being removed was comfortable for him.

“You didn’t do this while I was - while I was gone?”

Your therapist says you shouldn’t shy away from calling your kidnapping what it was, but you still can’t form the words in front of Johnny.

He hums at your words, never opening his eyes as he speaks.

“I don’t let anyone else touch my hair, birdie.”

“What about your beard?”

Johnny snorts, eyes meeting yours as you maneuver his head to the side.

“You don’t like it?”

You like the way he feels against your skin, you want to tell him. But you can’t make the words form, can’t spit them out. Johnny watches you chew on them for a moment before he lets out a sigh. His hair is scattered on the floor around the two of you, more than you’d thought he’d had.

You swap the guards to shorten his mohawk, pressing yourself in between Johnny’s knees so that you can reach the nape of his neck.

His hands wrap around your thighs, light and warm against the skin that peeks out beneath the shorts you hadn’t taken off since you’d left your cast removal this morning.

Your skin is on fire at his touch, you try to ignore it as you clean up his neck; Johnny buries his face in your shirt, breath warm against your stomach. His fingers trace light patterns on your thigh and it takes every ounce of willpower to keep the clippers from straying.

His fingers trace the scar that covers his name, and you jump back like you’ve been shocked. Your back hits the wall, knocking the decorative towels you’d spent days choosing to the floor. Johnny’s hands linger in the air between the two of you as you try to catch your breath.

“Sorry,” you pant out with a heavy swallow.

Johnny pushes himself up, eyes watching you like you’re a wild animal ready to run.

He reaches out and brushes some of his fallen hair from your shoulders, electrifying your skin again. His touch is hesitant as he traces up your shoulder, fingers cupping the back of your neck.

He’s fire as he presses himself against you, lips brushing over yours just quick enough to light something up inside of you before pulling away with an apology. He loosens the clippers from your hands and shoos you out with a promise he’ll clean the hair up himself.

A storm rages outside, threatening to cut the power at any moment. You watch it throw around tree limbs and leaves through the front window. Behind you, the television casts soft shadows on the walls.

“Still pouring out there?” Johnny asks from his spot on the couch. Your answer is the curtain falling back into place. You pad back to your spot beside Johnny; he holds the blanket up for you to slip underneath.

His bare leg rubs against yours, but his hands stay firmly in his lap. He hadn’t tried to touch you since that day in the bathroom - even when he dropped you off at therapy, you’d wait for him to stretch across and kiss you, but he’d just send you off with a wave.

You knew it was partially your fault: you couldn’t get the words out to explain how much you wanted him to touch you, how sorry you were for every jerk away. Every time you tried to tell him how much you wanted him, the words curled into your throat and refused to budge. You had even asked earlier for him to take a shower with you, to no avail.

The movie - some family flick Johnny picked because it didn’t have any violence, you know - cast shadows across Johnny’s face. His stubble is starting to come in again; you reach out and trace your finger across the five o’clock shadow creeping onto his jawline.

Johnny doesn’t take his eyes away from the television screen, but he leans his face into your touch. Your fingers trace upwards, lacing through the Mohawk you’d trimmed just two weeks ago. Johnny nearly purrs when you tug on his hair, pulling him down so that he’s lying across your lap.

You have to take it slow, you know or you and Johnny both might break apart. So you just settle beneath him, fingers tracing patterns onto his scalp, eyes trained on the television, but not really watching.

“I don’t think I’m going to go back,” you whisper, voice nearly drowned out by the storm outside. Johnny rolls, doing his best not to dig painfully into your thigh to look up at you.

“To work?”

You nod, still refusing to look at him.

“I talked about it with the therapist today; I just - I think it would be best if I just cashed in my retirement. I’ve got a lot saved up: hazard pay and all that. The corporal offered me a job as a trainer. So I could still be around."

Johnny’s hand reaches up to grab your wrist, forcing you to look at him. You can’t read the expression on his face, and you don’t like that. He’s always your open book. You try to keep your heart rate steady at the feeling of him tracing patterns on your wrist.

“I’m sorry, birdie.”

And you know he’s not just apologizing for your ruined career, for the nearly year you’d spent locked away in some disgusting cell, for the still broken teeth in your mouth, or the screws that hold most of you together now. He’s still apologizing for not being able to find you earlier, to be there months earlier.

“It’s not your fault Johnny - I should have told them no. I should have been smart enough to just tell my commanding that I couldn’t do it. I should have-“

Hot tears start to fall; Johnny pushes himself up, fingers brushing them away gently. When you don’t shy away from his touch, he pulls you into his lap, tucking your head beneath his chin, and pulling you so tight you think you might break beneath his touch. And you would let yourself shatter beneath him, if it meant he could put you back together, shot through with gold.

Johnny lets you cry on his shoulder until the fabric of his shirt is soaking wet; after a while, the smell of him, the softness of the way he caresses your back,and the feeling of his jean-clad thigh between your own stirs something else inside of you. You need something else, something more desperate, something to push away the feelings of failure. Of the fear that still lingers in you of heights, and darkness, and men who smell of sweat and gunpowder.

So when you kiss him, softly, Johnny doesn’t push you away like he can feel how much you need him to touch you. Even as he lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, you don’t break the kiss. It stays superficial, and soft, neither of you breaking apart or deepening it. You expect him to carry you to the spare bed he brought downstairs for you, but instead, he cradles you up the stairs, hands gripping your thighs so tight you know there will be a thumb-shaped bruise there tomorrow.

Johnny doesn’t stumble as he carries you.

In the bedroom the two of you shared before you were lost, Johnny collapses on the bed, his smell enveloping you, hands never leaving you. He buries his nose in the soft skin of your neck, breathing in the smell of you.

“Are you here with me birdie?”

Johnny’s voice is muffled on your skin, his hands pausing at the hem of your shirt.

“I’m here Johnny.”

You rest your hands on his biceps and feel the way his heart is in your own chest. His weight presses down around you, the mattress sinking down beneath the two of you. The wind rolls in through the window, gooseflesh erupting on your skin where Johnny isn’t touching.

Johnny’s hands don’t move from the hem of your shirt until you slide your own down to his wrists, a bravery you hadn’t felt in weeks taking over you.

“Please, Johnny.”

Johnny shifts, knees spreading your own apart, but he still doesn’t touch your bare skin until you tug on his wrists, trying to slide them underneath your shirt, instead, he traces your arms - the area you know he thinks is safe.

The feeling of his calloused hands on your soft skin makes you shiver; Johnny presses a kiss to your pulse point. You know he can feel the way your heartbeat picks up quickly, and he bites down on the sensitive skin lightly. You can’t help the gasp that escapes you, the way you buck your hips upward into his.

“Birdie.” It’s a warning and a promise rolled into one, and it makes you press your knees together, trying to slow yourself down.

You let your own hands start exploring Johnny. Once, you’d had his skin memorized - every scar and freckle committed to your own memory. But there are new scars there you’ve never seen before, new wrinkles at the corner of his eyes he didn’t have before.

It’s like the first time again, both of you exploring each other slowly. Johnny pauses every time you make a noise, eyes searching your face to make sure you’re alright. You push him away just long enough to pull his shirt off of him, hands instantly reaching out to pull him back down. His own hands slide your shorts down until you can kick them across the room.

Johnny kisses you, full of the same desperation he’d had that day at the hospital. Your teeth click together as the two of you suddenly move frantically, hands grasping at each other. Johnny shakes as you run your nails down his back, pushing until he realizes what you want.

Johnny rolls, hands still wrapped around your waist until you’re on top of him. The thin material of your panties is already wet; you can feel it when you grind down on him. The rough material of his blue jeans has enough friction to send lighting bolts through you.

“Is that what you want birdie?” Johnny’s voice is low and rough in his throat; his hands rest lightly on your hips as you grind down. Your hands reach back to rest on his thighs, more leverage for you to move.

You can’t answer him, already biting down on the moans that start to build in the back of your throat. Johnny’s grip tights as you speed up; you can feel his erection pressing tightly against his zipper as you grind faster.

You feel yourself start to tremble, hands moving to brace yourself against Johnny’s chest. He wraps one hand around your wrist, the other still at your waist; you can’t look away from the hungry glint in his eye.

Outside the storm lashes, the cool air rolling in across you and Johnny.

“Let it out,” he whispers, voice ragged and panting. He’s bucking his own hips in time with your grinding; he’s holding back - you know he doesn’t want to scare you, so you loosen the knot inside of you, moaning loud enough that a blush starts to creep up your chest. At the sound, Johnny bucks up harder.

You can’t help the way you come undone, nails digging into Johnny’s chest, leaving half moons on the sensitive skin. Johnny lets you ride him until the waves of your orgasm finish rolling over you, his hands not leaving you until you finally still, thighs shaking on each side of him. You can feel your drenched underwear, feel yourself soaking into his blue jeans.

Johnny is so hard beneath you, a red flush across his chest. Outside the storm rages harder, and the lights flicker momentarily. Johnny pushes himself up onto one elbow, the hand that has refused to move up your shirt sliding up just an inch. His fingers play with the edge of your underwear, the lace snagging on his callouses.

“Why don’t you want to touch me?” You can barely hear yourself over the rain lashing against the window; Johnny’s eyebrows knit together, and he pushes himself up until he’s sitting up, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep from falling backward.

“I want to touch you,” he tries to reassure you, hands tracing patterns across the back of your shirt. But you shrug his hands off, catching his wrists in your hands before he can fully withdraw away.

“You won’t touch me beneath my shirt,” you slide his hands down to the bare skin of your thighs, moving them until the hem of your shirt falls over his fingertips. “You wouldn’t take a shower with me.”

Johnny chews on his lips, they’re too chapped, you think. The silence stretches in the sound of the storm, and the flickering lights. Before Johnny can speak lightning and thunder crash outside, and the house goes dark - the sound of the electricity powering down cutting him off. Neither of you moves in the sudden blackness.

“I’m not broken, Johnny.” You don’t want to sound so pathetic, but you do.

“I know you’re not, hen.”

“Then why am I having to beg, Johnny?”

Johnny’s hand slips up so that he’s holding your hips beneath your shirt.

“I’m not going to hurt you too.”

It’s a tough confession for him to make, you know. He’d done his best not to talk about the whole ordeal, he never asked what you went through. This was his way of keeping you away from it.

You roll your hips across his again, and his breath catches in his throat.

“Please Johnny; you’re not going to hurt me.”

You don’t know if it’s the whine in your voice or the way you trace your fingers across the hard plane of his chest, or if Johnny is just as tired of holding back as you - but he rolls you over, gentle and quick until his chest his pressed against yours, his mouth finding the sensitive skin at the base of your neck.

You’re horribly out of practice, fumbling with the buttons on his jeans, getting stuck when Johnny pulls your shirt over your head, but he doesn’t let his lips leave you; your teeth clip together as Johnny deepens the kiss he refuses to let end until your gasping for breath beneath him.

It’s electric in the best and worst ways - Johnny’s calloused fingers tracing patterns on your stomach, kneading the soft flesh of your breasts, fingers teasing the edge of your underwear, pushing them further down each time.

The current running through you makes it difficult to breathe; you can’t even warn Johnny, can’t beg him to slow down what you were just begging him to speed up. But there has never been anyone who’s known you the same way Johnny has, and when his hands slow you know he can feel that it’s too much. Just for a moment.

“Still with me?”

“Still here.”

Johnny’s hands don’t speed up, but he doesn’t slow either - pressing open-mouth kisses down your neck, between your breasts, across the planes of your stomach until he finally stops at the edge of your underwear. He darts his tongue out to lick the sensitive skin peeking out above the hem, and the feeling makes you gasp out, hips pressing harder into the mattress. His fingertips brush just over the wetness you’ve soaked through and you grind your teeth together, painfully.

“Too much?”

Yes.

Too much for you at this moment; you’re not sure if your body will hold together if Johnny even tries to eat you out, tries to stretch you with his fingers, you can hardly keep together at the feeling of him touching you anywhere after so many months of nothing but dirt, and maggots, and feverish longing for-

You didn’t notice Johnny crawling back up your body until he presses a soft kiss on your temple, fingers wiping away your hair that’s plastered with sweat there.

Johnny’s whispering in your ear: how much he missed you, how he had thought about you every day, how he’d tried to scorch the earth to look for you; he pulls you until you’re back on top of him. You can feel how hard he is, how wet you are as you grind down against the hard planes of his lower stomach, searching for him.

Johnny’s hands squeeze at your hips, shifting the both of you until you feel the tip of him catch against you; a shudder rolls through you both, but Johnny doesn’t move. Every muscle in his body is pulled taunt, pulled against fucking into you at a frenetic pace. You recognize the set of his jaw, the way his hands wrap around your forearms. He’s letting you set the pace, letting you control him.

You wait for just a heartbeat before pressing down onto him; your vision whites out from the almost uncomfortable stretch of him as you sink down slowly. You can’t remember the last time the two of you were here, the last time the two of you fucked. Johnny’s nails dig into the underside of your forearm, yours into his chest until you finally reach the hilt.

You hold there for a moment, feeling the way he fills you up - so much so that you don’t think there’s room for anything else besides Johnny - there never has been. You can’t even think between the feeling of Johnny filling you up and the feeling of not trying to cum so fast. Finally, when your heartbeat slows incrementally, you rock yourself against him, slowly, using his chest as leverage.

Beneath you Johnny is coming undone; he’s biting his lip so hard you think he might draw blood, so you trace your fingertips across his bottom lip. His lips part beneath your touch, and he takes your pointer finger into his mouth, tongue swirling around it.

The feeling makes your hips move faster, stuttering against him. Johnny moans, muffled around your finger. The sound is horribly erotic in the darkness, and it spurs something inside of you to move your hips faster, rougher against Johnny. But he doesn’t move beneath you, still holding himself back. The sound of skin on skin, of how wet you are for him drown out the storm.

Johnny’s hands are everywhere: in your hair, cupping the supple flesh of your ass, pinching and rolling your nipples between his thick fingers; one hand sneaks across the flesh of your hip, dipping between the two of you to circle your clit. The feeling makes you crumple against him; Johnny takes the opportunity to roll you over, pressing you into the mattress.

Johnny presses one of your knees up, hooking it over his elbow so that he can fuck into you, still gentle even when he’s deeper than you think he’s ever been before, his other hand still circling your clit, slowly enough to keep you from falling apart, but fast enough to bring you to the edge.

His pace grows rougher; you claw at him, drawing red welts across his skin, but Johnny doesn’t slow down. You keep your eyes closed tightly, back arched to try and get him in deeper, to get more.

“Look at me.”

Johnny’s voice is rough, a gentle command you have to follow. His eyes never leave yours, even when his pace increases, the finger on your clit still rubbing tight circles until-

Until you’re breaking apart, shattering beneath him. Your orgasm makes you arch, back nearly leaving the mattress. Johnny’s hands move to cup your face, pulling himself down until he can kiss you as you ride through your orgasm, gasping in his own mouth. Your nails draw thick red welts across his back, but Johnny doesn’t stop pounding into you, your moans drowned out by the way he kisses you.

Not long after, Johnny’s pace starts to stutter, his lips never leaving yours until he plunges in deeper than he had before, and you can feel his warm release spill out inside of you.

Even when he’s completely spent, Johnny doesn’t pull out of you, instead fucking into you once, twice, three more times until you know you can’t take anymore, hands pressing on his chest to push him away.

Johnny’s fingers smooth your twitching thighs as he pulls away. In the darkness, you can just see his outline as he shifts between your legs, but he doesn’t move from there.

He caresses you until you are finally still and your panting finally slows. His fingers trace across the cracks you can still feel, stitching you back together, shot through with gold.

“Still here?”

“Still here.”

#my fics #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish #cod soap x reader #cod imagines #cod smut #soap mw2 #soap mactavish #cod x reader #johnny mactavish

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archangeldyke-all · 17 days

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hi hi hii sweetheart. Oh my lord. Your writing is literally so good, you honestly deserve the best, mind blowing, legs shaking, knees bucking, cant even talk orgasm. I'm so sorry. someone had to say ittttt. But I was wonderingggg😋 could you maybe do a drabble with reader and sevika are selling their house because maybe they have a little fucker on the way and they need more room, so they are goin through the house one last time and sevika starts js randomly naming out all her favorite times they have had sex in each place of the house...and she recalls like Hella details not even reader remembers. (Reader has pregnant mush-brain.) But could sevika be like..."wanna find a place we haven't fucked before..?" AND ITS LIKE THE HARDEST THING TO FIND BECAUSE THEY HAVE LITERALLY DONE IT EVERYDAY. But they end up finding a spot and sevika gives reader defo on the top 10 best sex they have had in that house. Could sevika maybe have a penis or even js her strap on in this...?:3 ANYWAY I WOULD LOVE THIS BUT IF YOU CANT DO IT ITS OKAY TOO!! I love you so so much your writings literally amazing!!!

this is so cute i love it!! (and thank u so much, i'm so glad u like my stuff eeek!!<3)

men and minors dni

you should probably be feeling a little more sentimental and sad about leaving behind the house you and sevika have been living in for seven years now.

these four walls have been your home through some of the best days of your life: meeting sevika, marrying sevika, realizing you're pregnant with sevika's baby-- it all happened here. you guys built your lives together here, and overtime, they became so intertwined and connected that you've become a 'we' rather than a 'me.'

but in all honesty-- you're thrilled to be leaving.

you hate this house. the floors are slanted, the roof is leaky, the windows aren't weatherproofed, so it's freezing in the winter and boiling in the summer. you haven't been able to take a bath in the tub for three years now because there's cracks in the caulk and any water above an inch deep starts to flood the bathroom. it's a shitty house, and you've been wanting to leave for years.

sevika's always been the one to convince. it's not that she loves your house, it's that she doesn't want to put the effort into finding a new one. but, upon the two of you finding out that your family will be growing in a few short months, sevika finally relented.

and now, just ten minutes down the street from this place, you've bought a beautiful family home, big enough for the two of you, your future baby, and whatever other family members (both human and animal) that might spawn in the future.

your inspector gave it an A+, the yard is spacious, the floors are level, there's not just one, but three bathtubs,-- and the one in the main en-suite is like a hot tub-- big enough for you and your wife to fit and lounge. you're so fucking excited to move in, that you're not even a little sad to leave behind the old space.

sevika's been eyeing you with worry all day as she lugs boxes and furniture to the moving van. she's waiting for your pregnancy hormones to hit you and for you to become a blubbering mess at the thought of leaving behind your place. you can't blame her, your pregnancy hormones can and have turned you into a puddle of tears over much less. just last night you cried for thirty minutes because one of the celery stalks in the bunch you'd bought was wilted, and all his celery friends were still green and healthy, going on living without him.

but, really, you're fine.

she's not buying it.

"sevika, for the last fucking time, i'm okay!" you groan. the house is mostly empty now, just a few boxes and some lamps left. sevika's taking a snack break, one of her arms wrapped around you as she looks at you with concern.

"i'm just saying babe, we can't come back after tonight, so if you need any, like, sentimental pictures, or a good cry--"

"oh my god!" you laugh, elbowing her. "sevika, i'm okay, really. i'm so fucking excited to go, i'm so excited for our future. i'll cherish the memories this place gave us forever, but i don't really care about the place itself." you shrug.

sevika studies you carefully, and then she pouts a bit. "it doesn't make you a little sad?" she asks. you raise your eyebrow, surprised to hear your usually-so-stoic wife is feeling ...sentimental?

"what makes me sad?"

"babe, this house is the first place we ever fucked in!" she whines. you burst into laughter. sevika points to the empty bedroom behind her. "you're not sad to leave that room behind? after all the times i fucked you into incoherence in there?" she asks, her eyes wide and sparkly like she's actually a little emotional. you can't stop laughing as you reach up to cup your wife's cheek.

"honey, you're gonna be fucking me into incoherence for the rest of our lives." you remind her. sevika smiles a bit at this.

"yeah, but... we had so many good times in this house." she sighs wistfully. you chuckle, pecking her cheek.

"we did. remember when you dented the drywall with the headboard?" you ask. sevika giggles a bit, her gaze snapping back down to yours, her hand reaching around your body to start gently stroking your ever-growing belly.

"'course i remember, i had to plaster it back up myself." she chuckles. "remember when we almost started a fire when we were getting kinky with the wax?" she asks. you blink up at her, drawing a blank and pouting.

"no." you whine. "tell me, it sounds hot." you demand. your pregnancy's been blessedly healthy, but the one symptom that's hit you hard is your baby-brain. sometimes, you're just total mush in the head. sevika's been patient and kind each time. right now, she just smiles salaciously at you and presses you against the counter.

"you don't remember?" she asks. "our second anniversary, we wanted to try wax play? you got the special lotion candles and everything, wore those pretty lacy panties i ruined last year on your birthday, and i let you tie my hands up." you smile, the memory slowly coming back to you, heat building between your legs as she speaks. "anyways... it was goin' real good until i kicked over an unattended candle." she whispers.

you break into laughter-- the memory suddenly flooding back to you. "shit, i miss that blanket." you snort, remembering the way the comforter seemingly spontaneously combusted.

"you were screaming as you tried to pat out the fire, and i was tied to the fucking bed that was goin' up in flames-- i thought i was gonna fuckin' die." sevika cackles.

you snort, and kiss her cheek. "i saved you, though." you brag. she laughs.

"yeah, you did."

"c'mon, tell me another." you demand.

sevika raises an eyebrow. "another what?"

"another sex memory." you say. sevika giggles. "they're all fresh and new to me, i like remembering how fun and hot we are."

"hmm..." sevika thinks, her eyes darting around the house. she snatches your wrist and drags you to the bathroom. "i'm still pretty convinced i got you knocked up in here six months ago."

"which time?" you ask. sevika smirks, kissing your cheek and pinching your ass.

"exactly." she teases. you snort. "no, but for real, there was this one time-- i'd just finished my workout and you'd had a big glass of 'shower wine'" sevika puts this in air-quotes, teasing the habit you indulge in each night, "and i fucked you against the sink so good that you had to get right back in the shower once i was done with you. fuck, i came my fucking brains out, honey, i couldn't speak for like ten minutes afterwards." your thighs clench a bit at the memory, your stomach bursting into butterflies at the way sevika's voice has gotten all heavy. her eyes are dark when she looks over at you. "and then, boom. two weeks later you're pregnant." she says, grinning.

you giggle. "you think that was the one, huh?" you ask. she nods.

"what's your theory?"

"i always thought it happened when you fucked me on the couch while we were watching that stupid cop-buddy movie." you say. sevika laughs.

"so you remember that-- a lazy, unromantic fuck after a long weekend of both of us lounging and not showering-- but you don't remember the good ones?" she asks. you just giggle and shrug again.

"they're all good ones with you, baby." you say. sevika's teasing look melts away, something needier taking it's place. you know what she's going to ask for, so you speak before she can. "you think there's a place in the house we haven't fucked?" you ask.

sevika blinks, considering it for a second. "i dunno."

"i wouldn't wanna leave the house with a room un-fucked in, sev, that would be a real shame."

"fuck, it really would, wouldn't it?" she asks. you snort and nod.

"so?" you ask. "you think we've checked all the boxes or can you think of a place we might need to--"

"the attic. you think you can crawl up there in your state?" she inturrupts you, rubbing your stomach as she eyes the little hatch in the ceiling of the hall. you burst into laughter.

"the attic!?"

"c'mon!" she laughs, jumping up and grabbing the string, pulling the stairs down. "you go first, i'll catch you if you fall. she says, steadying your hips as she walks you up the first few steep steps. you can't stop laughing as your wife basically herds you up into the attic.

you've never been up here, execpt for the few times you've had to put a pot down during a rain storm to stop the leaks from coming down into your home. it's dingy and dusty, and you can't even stand up straight-- you have to crawl to the end of the small storage space so sevika can fit up beside you.

she seems just as disgruntled with her choice as you are, but she's determined to make it work, quickly stripping herself of her shirt and laying it down behind you as a blanket. you giggle. "lay down." she requests, holding the back of your head as you lower yourself down so you don't bonk it on any beams or bars.

you can't see her like this. you're flat on your back, and your stomach is huge. you don't know what she's planning, so it's a shock when sevika starts tugging at your pants.

you burst into giggles, lifting your hips up to help her. "what's your plan here, babe?" you ask as she starts kissing your bare legs.

she hums against your thigh, considering your question. she trails a hand up your thigh, teasing your cunt with a feather-light touch, before lifting her mouth from your leg to speak.

"'m gonna get you knocked up again." she says.

you burst into laughter, and you can see sevika lift up from between your legs to admire your smile. you grin down at her, and widen your legs. "give it your best shot, baby." you choke out between laughs.

sevika, grins, and then ducks back down to disappear beneath your tummy and bury her face in your cunt.

fuck, you're horny. the baby's been giving you crazy hormones, and while sometimes that means you can cry at sad celery, other times it means you're so insanely horny you could cum from a strong breeze.

"oh, fuck, baby!" you cry as sevika buries her tongue inside of you. she hums, reaching up to start working her fingers in the mix.

"gonna cum already?" she grunts before ducking back down and sucking your clit. you smack your hand against the dusty floor beneath you-- too round to reach down and tug her hair like you want to.

"fuck, 'm gonna cum all over your fuckin' face, sev." you whine, your brain turning to mush as you get closer. she groans against you at your words, and you take it as a sign to just let your mouth run. "'y feel so fuckin' good, 'y fuck me so good, shit, sevika, sev!" you scream as you cum.

before you can even ride out the first wave of your high, sevika's jumping on top of you to mount you so quickly that her head smacks against one of the low hanging beams in front of you.

you gasp-- still cumming and horrified at the loud "SMACK!" that rings out as you watch your wife's head collide with the beam-- then you burst into pitying, whiny giggles as sevika curses.

"shit!" she groans, reaching up to hold her forehead. you reach up to cup her face, laughing and shivering and somehow still cumming.

"are you okay?" you giggle, pulling her down to kiss the bruise already forming on her forehead. she grunts.

"i'm fine."

"liar." you giggle. you tilt her head from side to side, giving her pupils a good look as a half-assed concussion exam. "poor baby. need me to take you to the urgent care? see if you got a concussion?"

"i'm fine. just need to put my dick in you." she grunts.

you laugh, but shut your legs before she can sink into you. she huffs and glares up at you, and you pinch her chin. "remind me to check you out for real once we're done, okay?" you ask. she nods. you glare at her, knowing she won't. "sevika, you're my brain until the baby comes, i don't care if you don't want me to remember, you really gotta remind me. if you have a concussion and die because i let you fuck me instead of taking you to the hospital-- how am i supposed to explain that to the baby?" you ask.

sevika groans. "okay! okay! i know! ''re you gonna lemme fuck you or what?" she asks.

you pucker your lips, and sevika's annoyance melts as she swoops down to kiss you. you hum happily and open your legs, smiling up at your wife. "okay." you agree. sevika grins, and then she sinks into you with one smooth thrust.

you both gasp, your open mouths just a breath apart from each other as sevika starts to work her hips against yours. "fuck." you whine. sevika smirks down at you.

"fuck." she agrees.

your thighs are shaking-- her cock fills you up perfectly, like she's made for you, made for stretching you just right. each of her thrusts is accompanied by a wet smack, and you bury your face against sevika's shoulder in embarrassment as the wet sounds grow louder. she chuckles.

"you've been fuckin' leaky since i knocked you up. your cunt's so fuckin' needy, isn't it? already put a baby in it and it's just droolin' for more." she grunts against your ear. you cum the second the words leave her mouth, your nails sinking into her shoulders as you shake apart. sevika grins down at you. "fuck, it's so fuckin' cute how easy you are when you're carryin' my kid. i just put it in babe, you're already cumming?" she teases again.

you bite her neck, relishing in the way her breath hitches as you try to collect yourself, then hiking your leg up over her hips and gripping her hair in your hands. "it's your fault." you whimper as you try to catch your breath. "you knocked me up 'n now i'm fuckin' stupid and horny and-- and you feel so good." you whine.

sevika shivers on top of you, and you tug her hair harder.

"'m yours, baby." you whimper. "all yours."

that's the final nail in the coffin-- sevika screams a "fuck!" as she cums at your words. you grin, clenching around her cock and giggling at the way her arms nearly give out beneath her. "you're an evil woman." she sighs appreciatively. "i love you so much."

you laugh, and sevika ducks down to kiss your exposed neck. "'m your evil woman." sevika's dick makes one more feeble twitch inside of you at your words, the reminder that you're hers. you giggle in delight at the feeling.

"damn right you are." she mumbles, grinning.

you sigh as the euphoria of your orgasms wears off and the hard floor beneath you starts to kick in. "you might need to carry me back down the attic steps."

sevika bursts into giggles. "you might need to take me to the hospital. i can't tell if i'm seeing stars because i just came so hard or if it's a concussion."

you groan, and sevika muffles her giggles against your neck.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352 @artinvain

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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fandom · 2 years

Photo

Poles, podiums, and the best of the rest.

Who are all these handsome young men in colorful jumpsuits that seem to have taken over your dashboard this year? And where exactly are they going in those really fast cars?????

Over the past few years, Formula 1 has spread into all corners of culture, and Tumblr is no exception. People around the world have learned about F1’s 70 years of history, its international circuits in cities like Monaco and Abu Dhabi, and its Grand Prix schedule of Free Practice, Qualifying, and the races themselves. Tumblr being Tumblr, though, it’s really all about the drivers: 20 of them per year, two for each of the ten official teams. Add in all the other assorted characters that orbit around the current grid, and you have quite the lineup to follow each weekend.

F1 and its fast boys have been appearing in our Week in Review lists as far back as 2020, and on last year’s Year In Review Athletes list, drivers took up a healthy 6 out of the top 10 spots. This year, the sport’s domination of the dashboard kicked it up a notch: There was an 18% increase in engagement with the Formula 1 tag in 2022 compared with last year, and Lestappen (aka Max Verstappen/Charles Leclerc) became the very first F1 ship to hit a Week In Review ships list on July 10, 2022.

A lot of this might have something to do with the growing popularity of Netflix’s Drive to Survive docuseries, which follows the twists and turns of each F1 season, shining a light on the personal lives of the drivers and their team members. Tumblr’s interest in the sport just feels natural: with all of its drama, excitement, and contained, charismatic, and frequently controversial ensemble cast, it seems tailor-made for Tumblr users who enjoy sports anime and adventure dramas.

So, what’s the pitch for F1? Whether you root for the underdog or support the champion, there’s a storyline for you. The interweaving backstories of the drivers, many of whom have grown up driving together since they were kids, are like catnip to Tumblr’s love for characters with history. And, of course, there are the races themselves—high-tech cars going hundreds of miles per hour. What’s not to love?

Or, as @gaslightgirlsummer puts it: these men are all millionaire tax evaders trying to kill each other and/or themselves in the fastest cars on the planet (that are worth more money than most people will ever have in their lifetimes) on a weekly basis.

Whether a longtime fan or newly interested, you’ve probably seen F1 around Tumblr this year, featuring in fan art, GIFsets, and a plentiful amount of very silly memes. But, in case you’ve ever been curious about who Tumblr loves the most, here are the top 35 Formula 1 tags in 2022, featuring not just current drivers but retired drivers, reserve drivers, upcoming drivers, race engineers, and team principals, too.

Lewis Hamilton

Charles Leclerc

Daniel Ricciardo

Sebastian Vettel

Max Verstappen

Lando Norris

Mick Schumacher

Pierre Gasly

George Russell

Carlos Sainz

Yuki Tsunoda

Valtteri Bottas

Alex Albon

Esteban Ocon

Fernando Alonso

Lance Stroll

Sergio Perez

Toto Wolff

Kevin Magnussen

Zhou Guanyu

Kimi Raikkonen

Oscar Piastri

Antonio Giovinazzi

Nicholas Latifi

Nico Rosberg

Christian Horner

Michael Schumacher

Callum Illott

Jenson Button

Mattia Binotto

Nyck De Vries

Peter Bonnington

Mark Webber

Zak Brown

Nico Hulkenberg

And, because it wouldn’t be Formula 1 without a Constructor’s Championship, here’s the ranking of teams on Tumblr:

McLaren

Ferrari

Mercedes

Red Bull

Aston Martin

Haas

Alpine

Alfa Romeo

Williams

AlphaTauri

#year in review #formula 1 #tumblr2022

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huboi · 4 months

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☆ - GUINEA PIG HYBRID READER FT MULTIPLE JJK MEN !

╰┈➤ includes; gn! hybrid reader, mainly focused on reader squeaking and the guys falling heads over heels all over again, mentions of eating food

╰┈➤ a/n; this fic is heavily inspired by @appleblueberry-pie s’ post on Guinea pig hybrid reader with jjk men, tysm for letting me use this for a fic 🧡

SATORU GOJO

when satoru first met you, he was instantly in love

you’re guessing that it’s mainly due to your unusual features such as small ears and a tiny barely noticeable tail

he hasn’t seen many hybrids in the sorcerer world, other than panda

one thing that gave him a huge fright was when you first squealed out of nowhere when he brought home some sweet treats

he was very concerned that you were in pain or injured in some way, only to be relieved once told you involuntarily tend to squeal when you get excited

after this experience he tries his best to excite you when possible, since he can’t get enough of your squeaks

always refrains from just squishing your cheeks together in response

man wants to keep you in his pocket

GETO SUGURU

enjoys hearing your squeals

he becomes extra soft when he hears them

one second he’s tearing down another pathetic useless monkey

and the next he’s practically cooing as you squeal in happiness once he comes back from his cult to visit you

you also tend to purr like a cat, especially when he sits you on his lap

his heart fucking melts

loves giving your ears little scritches since it makes you practically vibrate on top of him whilst putting like a lil’ kitty

if you’re unable to speak whilst squealing then he doesn’t mind, he actually finds it enduring how you can’t talk when squealing in joy

yes his daughters also love you so much, they both think you’re the cutest thing they’ve ever seen

NANAMI KENTO

man damn near shat himself the first time you started squeaking

it was when he came home from the usual sorcerer work, and he had a fresh loaf of bread to share with you

you just couldn’t hold back your excitement

you were so embarrassed afterwards, hiding your face behind your hands as nanami looked at you with concern

stuttering, you explained to him that you tend to squeak uncontrollably when you get excited

nanami finds it relaxing when you perch yourself on his lap and start purring in content

he low-key finds it very therapeutic and it helps him destress after a hard day at work

he finds it very cute and unique how you make certain noises when feeling different emotions, gives you more character in his book

won’t admit it but he always finds himself with a little smile plastered on his face when around you

TOJI FUSHIGURO

he’s such a meany about your squeaks :(

always teases you whenever you make animal noises

“aww, you happy to see me sweet thing? why didn’t you just say so?” he’ll coo whilst squishing your cheeks together before giving you a small yet sloppy kiss onto both cheeks

your squeaks scare him at times, but you won’t hear that from him

sometimes he’ll just be chilling then all of a sudden loud ass squeals echo throughout the house and he nearly has a heart attack

actually enjoys hearing you purring, especially sat on his lap

9 times out of 10 pretty much forces you on his lap or chest when you start purring

he actually seems to become less stiff and more calm when you purr on him

sometimes forgets you’re a hybrid and so gets a small surprise when he spots your lil ears on top of your head

CHOSO KAMO

has never in his 150 years of life seen a hybrid at all

very curious of your existence

will ask lots of questions even when you get into a relationship, he’s just a really curious fella what can he say?

he asks them so that he understands you better

when you first squeaked was when he gave you a small kiss on the lips, he was worried he did something wrong

only to be proven wrong when you snuggle up against the crook of his neck, arms wrapped around his body whilst your squeaks slowly but surely turn into content purrs

he melts into your embrace, he’s never felt this content in life other than when he’s with his brothers

your squeaks give him serotonin, he can’t live without your squeaks

enjoys how when he makes spaghetti that you start squeaking even before the foods ready, he concludes that you simply enjoy food so much

SUKUNA RYOMEN

claims that your presence annoys him to no end, especially your squeaks and purrs

then when you stop making those noises around him he feels…. sad?

not even an hour later and he’s telling you that he actually doesn’t mind your noises, low key is fond of them, but he won’t straight up admit he likes them, he’s too far up his own ass to admit when he likes something

he has probably seen hybrids at some point during his thousand plus years of existence, but even he’s aware of how rare hybrids are in the jujutsu world

your happy squeaks make him feel things he’s never felt before

the same goes for your purring

if he’s been gone for a long amount of time, you’ll rush up to him and embrace his muscular body as tight as possible whilst you purr which causes your body to vibrate against his

he finds it weird how your body vibrates when you purr

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abominationimperatrix · 2 years

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A short list of extremely-specific lesser-known mythical monster tropes which I didn’t expect to be super widespread:

1. Ogres which, when slain, spawn huge amounts of mosquitoes out of their bodies.

2. Humanoid horrors that lurk at the tops of cliffs and kick passerbies down off of the ledge so that their mates and/or offspring can kill them.

3. Depraved ex-human cannibals for whom one of their feet has rotten away into a spike of bone which they then stab people with.

4. Creatures which resemble pitiful old men and beg people to carry them but their legs are actually tentacle-like “straps” which they use to kill or enslave their victims.

5. Hairy ogres with axe-heads sticking out of their chests.

6. Grotesque female humanoids with enormous, pendulous breasts, one of which they throw over their shoulder. (That last detail specifically shows up more times than you would think possible.)

7. Flying detachable heads. Organs hanging down frequent but optional.

8. The “animal that cannot lie down,” i.e. a monster without joints in its limbs that, you guessed it, cannot lie down and has to lean on things.

10. So. Many. Backwards. Feet. Usually as a means of making trackers think they went in the opposite direction.

11. Swallowers. I.e., monsters that swallow huge amounts of victims but keep them inside in their stomachs before spitting them out when slain. Most famously present in Sub-Saharan Africa, but basically everywhere.

12. Bisected humanoids. Creatures with only half a physical body, cut vertically.

13. Headless monsters with faces on their chests.

14. Natal revenants. The undead remains of women who die in childbirth, usually as some sort of ghostly Succubus.

15. Female creatures with hollow backs, the main giveaway of their supernatural nature.

16. Living meteor demons that spread disease.

17. Chicken-snake hybrids.

18. Rattite-snake hybrids.

19. Parrot-snake hybrids.

20. Monsters that fly around in the atmosphere, and if you look at them you die. (Related to number 16.)

21. In arid regions, RAINBOW TASTE YOU. (Because it signals the end of much-needed rain and is therefore seen in a negative light and personified as something malicious.

22. Owl demons! Tend to be witchy/hag-like.

23. Succubi whose only giveaway of their monstrousness is a single hooved foot.

24. People cursed into becoming weird donkey-things.

25. River blockers. Monsters who block off water supplies in order to cause droughts, and must be slain for that reason.

26. Monsters who inflict some kind of seemingly unsurvivable body horror on you, before resurrecting you long enough to go home at which point you promptly die for reals this time.

And many, many, more, but I’m tired right now. Might update later.

Update: Wow! I did not expect this blow up, or for this many people to be interested! This was very spur of the moment and off the top of my head, I assumed I would just be infodumping into the void. I’m going to write up examples for all of these, I’m just going to need a little bit of time to get my sources in order to make sure they I don’t misrepresent or misremember anything. How common a lot of these are varies, some tend to be primarily amongst neighboring cultures in specific regions, others tend to be downright global. And some have dozens of instances while others are more like that Doofenshmirtz meme. (I’d only have two nickels but I’m surprised it happened twice).

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heartlilith · 7 months

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My Placements and How They Manifest

Capricorn Ascendent:

My mother told me that when she gave birth to me, it was worse than my other 3 other siblings by far. She had to be induced because there was no sign of me wanting to come out into the world (lol). She said she was in labor for hours and when I finally came out, she started hemorrhaging. It wasn't fatal obviously because she's alive today but yeah, I kind of associate that with my Capricorn rising. Still to this day, change is very uncomfortable for me especially if I have no control over what's happening. My childhood was great until my mom divorced my dad and remarried, that's when shit went south! I had new siblings, a stepfather, and had to see my dad heartbroken while also battling melanoma and being laid off (2008 recession). My sister stayed with him and I went with my mom. They were always fighting and spiting each other but it was my sister and I that missed out. It was always "what is your father saying about me?" yada yada yada. Growing up, I was bullied by my sister a lot, in my opinion, it was more than the usual sibling fights. My mom also took a lot of her anger out on me; she ended up getting a divorce not too long after remarrying, became an alcoholic and filed for bankruptcy. Being a Capricorn rising and dealing with the backlash of that, I always have money saved, ALWAYS. I'm like a squirrel hiding nuts I stg. If I'm completely broke I'm an anxious mess. It's also why I strive to be independent and self sufficient. It's why I manifest being filthy rich. High school was terrible tbh and I battled with depression and anxiety. College was a lot better and moving away from my mom and chaotic family did me well, I went from a 2.6 GPA in high school to 3.85 in college. Rereading this it sounds kinda like a sob story and that's not what I'm trying to accomplish so I'm just going to move on.

1st House Neptune, Uranus, Lilith:

I made a separate post either on here or Reddit about how my features have changed so much over the years. As a child, my hair was blonde then it turned blonde/red in late elementary school. Since then, it's turned darker and darker through the years. Now it's dark brown. My eyes were dark blue as a child and now they're light green - I attribute this to Uranus and Neptune being on my Ascendent. In my opinion, I'm not photogenic at all (Cap rising?) and I think I look different in every picture I take or is taken of me. With Lilith being in my first house, I was sexualized a lot growing up by older guys/men. And also bullied by boys my age; I remember they thought I was "too girly". Guys, I shit you not after I had enough of it, I started showing up with boy shorts and those tank tops guys wear HAHAHA to be more of a "tomboy"... I'm not really sure what that is but yeah, I must've been 10 or 12 or something. People would always say "it's because they have a crush on you/because they like you!" and I would be so confused. Nowadays, I think I rub some people, specifically men, the wrong way and they dislike me for "no reason", or maybe they have a reason but they never come out and say it. My Uranus in the 1st shows up as being quirky I guess? I'm not really sure. Maybe it's that my parents were never disciplinary at all, I could do whatever I wanted. At the time I loved it but deep down I think I wanted to them to care, so I would act more and more reckless. Today, maybe that sets me apart. One last thing about Neptune/Uranus in the 1st is that I can't stand to see people treating people/animals/or what have you, the wrong way. I can't even watch Youtube videos of animals starting off abused... even if the videos end with them being happy and healthy, I CAN'T DO IT. It deeply disturbs me.

Side Note (1st House Lilith):

As a small child I was obsessed with being naked all the time and skinny dipping LMFAO like it was a problem. Luckily there were no creeps and I was fine but would this placement indicate that in anyway? Let me know because it doesn't really fit with my Capricorn rising.

(I'm really sorry this post is so long and detailed I think I'm having word vomit)

Virgo Moon:

As a child I was really reserved and "chill". I already talked about my relationship with my mom and she was critical and whatever. One thing that sticks out about this placement is that she would always push the idea on me to "stay pure" and to "stay innocent", especially when I was a teen. Always pushing this on me. Always telling her friends I was "naive" and yeah maybe I was in a sense. I don't know it's weird how that fits. My mom wasn't all bad though. She definitely had many faults but she was a great mom in certain aspects. Growing up, I realized she's just a human like me, with problems of her own. I don’t hold it against her. Today, my Virgo moon makes me sooo anxious and worrisome. I definitely see the negative qualities it brings but the good qualities out weigh them. I love buying people gifts and I'm a great gift giver if I do say so myself. With my Capricorn rising and Virgo moon, I hate PDA and it can be hard for me to be lovey dovey (even with all my Leo), so I show love by buying gifts - kind of like my dad. My parents were never there for me emotionally but they bought me great gifts hahaha, I guess that's why. Also I tend to "mother" my partners; I do their laundry, do the cleaning, make their doctor appointments, and take care of them in a sense - like my mom did for me. Writing this out I can now see why I am the way I am lol.

Moon square Jupiter, Pluto, and Saturn:

Ooooff. Well I won't dive into it too much. I will say it affects my mental health greatly and I've had a lot of trouble in that department. My Moon square Jupiter really makes my moods go up and down. Like high highs and low lows for sure. I try to look at it positively even though it's hard sometimes. Having the high highs brings out my inner child (Jupiter in the 5th). When I'm happy I'm really happy and giggling and silly. And of course the flip side is low low :( But I like the high highs so I deal. Also with this, I tend to avoid being sad at all costs. All costs. I'm a true escape artist when it comes to emotions. With Pluto and Saturn squaring my Moon, I am infact a MOODY BITCH. LOL, hey at least I can admit it. It brings intrusive thoughts, obsessive thinking, insecurity, and guilt with it too - all that great stuff. Moving on.

Cancer Mercury:

I like my Cancer Mercury a lot, even though it's paired with my all my Leo placements which can make me a ~smidge~ dramatic. I wasn't the best student in high school but I did take the hardest English courses they offered, which in hindsight saved my GPA lol. In college, I studied English with a concentration in creative writing. I mostly wrote and studied poetry which I loved so much. I'm a great listener and if I could write an advice column I would. I love how my Cancer Mercury makes me empathetic and how I'm able to put myself in anyone's shoes. One negative about this placement is that I get hurt easily (paired with Leo Sun and Virgo Moon esp), but I won't let you know I'm hurt, I'll just get angry and mean. I don't like that about myself and I wish I was more vulnerable in that aspect but it's easier to be angry than sad... right?

Leo Venus and Mars:

After talking about all the above placements, my Leo side is definitely my ray of sunshine in a way. I feel like with my Virgo Moon and the aspects it makes, it kinda settles my Leo ego. That's not to say I don't have an ego, I definitely do... just look at this post it's all about meee :) I have pictures of when I was 3-6 years old and flexing my muscles hahaha and I thought I was so strong I would go around and show everyone that I could pick my mom and older sister up. So weird. Other than that, when I dislike someone I tend to go on rant for awhile about everything I dislike about them. My least favorite thing is when someone makes me feel inferior or small, that will put me on 10 easily. I don't get mad all that much, it takes a lot but when I do get mad, I see red. Maybe cause I have Mars at 0 degrees. I do get over things quickly though, emotionally anyway, but I do hold a grudge. Also yesss, I have Leo hair. It's long and thick and hard to manage. Growing up, my mom would never let me color or cut it and I'm kinda glad now looking back on it.

8th house Moon & Venus:

This is why I hold grudges hahaha. In my opinion, the 8th house can be hard to understand/put into words until you experience it (in synastry, transit, natal, etc), then you just know. With Venus here, every person I'm romantically involved with transforms me but also takes a piece of me as well. In my experience with the 8th house, you can gain a lot of good things but it comes with a price. Whether its a mix of my placements or just these placements specifically, love really hurts! Break ups have put me in dark dark places. When I do love someone, I want to merge with them, like become "one" if that makes sense. So when it comes to an end, I have a huge hole left. In my life, this has manifested as when I ran away from home to a different state and ghosted my family and friends just to get back together with my boyfriend, all on a whim. I'd give it all up for someone I love. With Virgo Moon being in my 8th house, my anxiety mixes with my obsessive behavior which manifests as dermotillamania. I struggle with it so bad. I'm working on it but yeah that's kinda interesting looking from an astrological sense. Moon in the 8th house gives me great intuition though... I'm always right about the vibes. But this comes at the cost of feeling things extremely deeply.

Scorpio MC:

This is another placement that I like about my chart because my Capricorn rising makes me come off as intimidating and my MC makes people see me as powerful and mysterious. I don't know if people actually see me this way but even it being a possibility gives me like Olivia Benson vibes. I love her. Anyway, one thing I will say is I don't have social media anymore and haven't for years (besides Tumblr and Reddit) because I really value my privacy. I don't like people knowing things about me unless I decide to share it with them, even small things. Tumblr and Reddit are okay in my mind because I don't know anyone in real life. But even this post I'm already thinking of deleting and I haven't even posted it yet lol. When I did have social media, I would overshare and then delete the post an hour later. I was always deleting pictures and revamping my aesthetic. I became obsessed with likes and comments and scrolling that it was too much and I didn't like the power it had over me. Something else that I think manifests from my MC is that I love psychology, astrology, and things that tie into personalities.

5th house Jupiter & Saturn:

It always confused me on how to interpret having Saturn, the planet of limitations and responsibility, and Jupiter, the planet of expansion and luck, in the same house. I thought that they canceled each other out in a way, or level each other out... is a better way of putting it. I actually messaged @astrosky33 and asked how they interpret it. Her (?) answer was interesting and made a lot of sense. Jupiter and Saturn in the same house gives off both energies at the same time (why didn't I think of that? lol). So for the 5th house, in terms of my hypothetical kids, I would be a parent that has fun and is silly but also strict in some ways and responsible. One way Saturn in my 5th house manifests is that I don't want to do anything creative unless I feel it's productive in some way, which I don't like about myself. Meaning, I don't want to read a book if the genre is fantasy, I would rather read non-fiction or a self help book; something that I can learn from. Also, I really like hobbies where I can produce something, like making candles or making spell jars. If I can make money from a hobby that I love then even better. Jupiter in the 5th house manifests as being child-like and also loving kids. If things are going well and I'm happy, then I can be excited and goofy like a child. If things aren't going well, then I can throw a tantrum like a child. I love kids because my early childhood was the best time of my life before life hit me upside the head (lol). This past Halloween, I made goodie bags for the trick or treaters and got so excited when the doorbell rang. I don't know, I just want to protect kids and shield them from the bad in the world. Kids, out of everyone, deserve to be happy.

Sun sextile Jupiter:

Things tend to work out for me, well, as of lately anyway. I struggled a lot growing up and I was always wishing my life were different. I couldn't wait to leave home. Now, I have a boyfriend who I love very much and we live very comfortably. I have a great job and I am so much happier than I was before. Of course, life isn't always perfect and there are problems at every turn. I wish I could go back in time and tell 15 year old me that everything is going to be okay, more than okay actually. I have a dog and two kittens who I love very much and I'm very fortunate to have the life that I do. I try to stay positive because there's no point in being negative and sulking all the time. Plus, you never know what can happen so be thankful for what you have, even if in your eyes, it isn't enough. I believe in being nice to people, you never know how far one act of kindness can go. Lord knows I needed it during some pretty tough times in my life.

Venus square Saturn (TW: Eating disorder, drug use, phobias):

Going back to having fear of abandonment and being uncomfortable with PDA... well here is the culprit. Or some of the culprit. Since Venus is in my 8th house, I feel like this aspect plays into my fear of my family dying, more specifically, my parents. Whenever I visit home and I see they look a little older, move a little slower, I get really sad. Their birthdays are supposed to be for celebrating but I can't help but get sad. It takes over me and I obsess about what I'm going to do when the day comes and they're not here anymore. I put on a brave face though and I buy them nice gifts and send flowers on holidays... but it's always in the back of my mind. This aspect also manifests as having low self esteem and growing up this was very prevalent. I didn't care about myself at all; I did drugs, I put myself into bad situations that I get anxiety just thinking about what could've happened. I had an eating disorder, dated boys that were awful. I'm fortunate that I made it out okay. I still have insecurities today but during that time in my life it was so intense because even as a teen without this aspect, you deal with insecurities. It was like double trouble.

If you read this far, thank you. I hope it was semi-interesting and Im really curious to know what you guys think. Should I make a part 2? I’m feeling a little “out there” by posting this so I hope it's not too much. Thanks again for taking the time to read this.

(let me know what you think!)

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aothotties · 8 months

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how jjk men help you through a panic attack

ft. Suguru, Satoru, Nanami, and Toji

so I've been going through it lately and having a really hard time making it through the day. but I have yall and this blog (and Ari) and I'll get through it.

here's some cute lil HCs on how I feel the jjk men would get you through a panic attack. enjoy :)

completely SFW

-Rachel

Suguru

Been there. Done that. Suguru himself has had many panic attacks and knows what to do to comfort you. He has studied you and knows exactly what can and will trigger one for you and tries his damn hardest to keep you away from those things.

When he sees you starting to panic, he has a whole routine on how to comfort you during and after

He holds you tight against his body and does not let go. He knows the compression always helps you to calm down.

He will sometimes rock you back and forth and whisper to you, “it’s okay, baby. I got you.”

After you calm down, he lays down and pulls you on top of his chest and rubs your back. If you fall asleep, he stays there with you until you wake up even if it means he has to lay there for hours just staring at the ceiling.

Once you wake up, he runs you a bath and makes your favorite meal and will sit close to you for the rest of the day/night making sure to always be making some sort of contact with you (holding hands, kissing your forehead, rubbing your back, etc.)

Satoru

The first time you had a panic attack in front of him he had no idea what to do and just stared at you because he was lowkey scared and afterwards just continually asked if you're okay.

He has since gotten better at comforting you and has developed what he calls “panic mode” which consists of everything he will do to comfort you and make you feel safe.

He never leaves you alone during the process and he comforts you in whatever way you’re okay with because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. Sometimes you need him to hold you, other times you need him to rub your back/thigh, and sometimes hold your hand.

Afterwards he makes you a snack and gives you water and turns on your favorite tv show.

He gives you a warm blanket and lays under with you holding you close to him.

He gives you kisses all over your cheeks and tells you how strong you are and how he’ll always be there for you through every storm.

Nanami

He created a game plan from day one when you first told him you have panic attacks.

He holds you in his lap and pulls you against his chest and rubs your back. He talks you through it telling you, “Baby, let it out. I won't let go. I promise you I'm right here, always and forever. It's going to be okay”. His reassuring words don't stop until you're done.

Afterwards he starts a hot shower for you and while you're refreshing yourself, he pulls out all your skincare products and applies everything for you as soon as you get out. He’ll pick his favorite lotion and body spray scent and put it on for you.

He asks if there's anything you want and will get it for you no matter what it is. Your favorite candy, your favorite food, a drink, etc. you want it? You got it.

He picks out a movie or tv show for you and wraps you up in a weighted blanket.

He doesn't leave your side and caters to you because he insists that you rest and recharge.

Toji

Toji turns the sweetness up to 10 whenever you're panicking.

He has a heating blanket that he throws over your shoulders during the attack and he sits behind you with your back against his chest and wraps his arms all the way around you. He lays his head on your shoulder and gives you all the time you need to calm down.

Afterwards, he picks you up and carries you to the bed, he makes you comfortable by giving you lots of pillows and lays your favorite stuffed animal next to you. He’ll put lavender in your diffuser and turn it to the highest setting.

he orders you a bunch of fast/junk food because he knows you crave it after you calm down and he’ll sit and eat with you.

He loves to make you laugh while you’re with him so he’ll tell a bunch of corny jokes so you can at least give him a little chuckle.

He’ll hold your hand and kiss the back of it and will constantly ask if you're okay and feeling better.

He’ll put on your favorite youtuber and watch their videos all night long with you until you fall asleep.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk scenarios #toji fushiguro #geto suguru #gojo satoru #nanami kento

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eggedbellies · 6 months

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This is an idea I’ve RPd with people (and would love to again if anyone wanted to…) and i just cannot stop thinking about.

The idea of men, instead of carrying seminal fluid and sperm in their testicles, carried eggs. They’re small and unfertilized, but must be spent every month or they’ll grow larger and potentially cause complications. Public sex and public laying of these eggs has become acceptable.

You meet a guy on a dating website, purely for sex. He comes over, and soon thereafter you’re making out on the couch and he comes clean. He reveals a massive set of testicles, full of eggs, likely from 3 or 4 months of build up. He came over with the intention of filling you up with them. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, and before you know it you’re being bent over your kitchen counter with his cock in your pussy.

It’s not long before he pauses, a groan on his lips as eggs start pouring out of him. You can feel them, one by one, as they stretch you passing through him. Your hand cradles your belly as it slowly grows with the eggs being placed inside. By the time he’s done (and you’ve cum a time or two) you have the belly of a 4 month pregnancy. You exchange numbers and he walks away.

About a week or two later, the eggs have grown and grown. You’re waddling around with the belly of a 10 month pregnancy with triplets. You feel the sexiest you have ever felt. But, the time has come to lay your eggs.

You go to a public park, set up underneath a tree in the back, and strip. You’re completely naked, legs spread open, and start to push. The eggs come one after one, much larger than when they went into you. By the time you’re done, you’ve laid 30 unfertilized eggs. A small crowd has gathered to watch you, some men slowly rubbing their cocks. And among the crowd is the man who put the eggs inside of you in the first place, ready to put another clutch in you right then and there.

(I held onto this one a while just to keep reading it ngl. god.)

I'd heard of men who did this. It had never held much interest to me, before; sure, I'd been tempted, now and again, in a few relationships, to take their eggs - but I was always a little shy. And I always had work, or maybe personal hangups... maybe that was why I'd never held a relationship for long. And those strange guys, the ones who liked their balls being packed and tender, who wanted to stretch people out... I'd never really understood until I met him.

And they'd looked so good on him, so heavy and full. Slapping against my clit with each thrust. The stretch, god, I'd never felt anything like it, and with the noises he and I were making, it felt like animal breeding. He must have loved it as much as me. How my shirts didn't fit quite right, forced to wear loose jumpers until I could get some maternity wear, the fascinated stares of people clearly wondering how I could possibly be so late term and yet not have them already...

I'm glad it's summer, because even my normal tops are rapidly becoming crop tops. It's hard work to heft my body about. Everything has widened to help with the weight. People come over and ask how far in I am and I try to be vague but not moan whenever they ask to rub and feel the clutch (and I can't help but say yes.)

As the last egg is popping out, and bystanders come to help scoop up the clutch, offer to call my partner, take me to the hospital, whatever I need, I shake my head. I know what I need. Call him from the crowd. There are murmurs, of course, but my body is still shaking with pleasure. We drop the clutch off. Waddle home. Pin him to the wall, all mouth and tongue, biting at skin and clutching at each other, drag him upstairs... and grasp his cock firmly.

Before clipping the cage around it.

Because these last few weeks, I realised just how good that felt. And I grin, even as his eyes widen in alarm. "How long did you wait last time?" I whisper against his neck. "Four months." he murmurs back. "I think we can wait for six." I grin, stroking his balls, before stepping back and admiring how good the cage looks on his thick cock. "Then we can see how big I can really get, hm?"

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keepyourpantsongohan · 4 months

Text

Ayesha Liveblogs Spy x Family S2

Awww, I like that Bond Forger the Dog also gets an intro about HIS secret identity. Equal opportunity deceit

Are we finally going to learn who exacty Yor is fighting? I would like to know!

Been there Anya, I also had little patience for watching the news as as a kid. Though, it seems more important in a pre-internet era

"Okay, you can change the channel." Loid Forger, International Spy, defeated by one (1) sad look from his little daughter

"I absolutely cannot tell him that I got shot in the butt while fighting a group of armed men." 10/10 episode plot, I cannot wait

"I've been relying on her too much without realizing it, and it's upset her. Yes, that must be it! I must do everything in my power to remedy this at once!" Loid immediately blaming Yor's mood on himself and deciding he has to be respond by being a better husband!!! I will keep saying it. He is THE Husband. World's Most Husband

"Why don't we go on a date?" HEE HEE

Puzzling that Yor thinks she hasn't been on a date though, when I can think of at least three dates so far (party-grenade-proposal date, lunch date, and drinks-and-reassurance date)

"I can't leave Anya alone at home, and this is a very important mission to ensure that we remain one happy family." It seems Loid has learned from the spy transmission debacle

"Last night, I came up with 862 date plans to ensure that Yor has fun." He's insane. I want to give him a leetle kiss

HAHAHAHA Franky being absolutely thrilled to bother Loid and Yor on their date. What a friendship 💕

Intriguing that Anya's telepathy has a distance limit. Tell me more!

Honestly, Yor having to position herself in a specific way to avoid pain is relatable. We love a chronic pain queen

"This woman had built up an immunity to poisons." HAHAHAHAHA the poison fixing Yor's pain. Sometimes, drinking does solve your problems!

LMAOOOO them censoring the bomb components. A real "don't try this at home" moment

NOT THE BABY MAKING THE BOMB. ANYA PLEASE

"I'm going to forget all this and live a normal life." Perfect. Forgers reforming their enemies left and right

"If it's not too much trouble, please invite me out again sometime." Never let being married stand in the way of your husband becoming your boyfriend 🥰

SCREAM at Bond's perception of what Loid does for work. I guess he's closer to the truth than most:

"Are you trying to do this for your... no. Are you trying to get revenge for your friends who were experimented on?" HAHAHA is Loid blushing because he wants to call himself his dog's dad?

FBKFJHFFHKJHF Loid taking on Bond as his mission back-up. He truly can be swayed so easily

WHERE DID LOID GET A DOG-SIZED SKI MASK AHHAHAHA

I love the giant puppy spy sidekick, employ this dog ASAP

"While they're busy playing, I'm going to work hard to get to the top," said Damian Desmond, Six Years Old, for whom The Top was beating all the other little bougie first graders

"Your friendship... preciously elegant." Me whenever I finish hanging out with my friends

I love that Henderson-sensei sends the kids out on a picnic as a punishment. He really is as silly as he is strict

I don't know if this is a vegetarian thing or a cultural thing but it always seems wild to me how people in anime bite into fish, scales and all

"Did you know that the most recent studies in neuroscience suggest that your brain feels really revitalized when you're spacing out?" I like Mr. Green, Grizzled Navy Custodian, too

HAHA Damian trying his hardest to space out. Me when people tell me to practice mindfulness

"Oh, you don't [have a goal], eh? That's perfectly fine!" "Actually, I want to live my life eating lots of snacks." "Splendid! You'll have to think earnestly about how to make that possible." I take it back, I LOVE MR. GREEN

Ready to sob about this field trip actually. AHHHHHHH:

"Good evening, Mr. Vile Trash." ACAB; All Cops are (Weird) Brothers

"What's so wrong about trying to improve the country my family lives in?" Nothing but the hostile, paternalistic nationalism of a Cold War, Frank Perkin, Newspaper Sensationalist and Adult Bully of Wealthy Children

"I'll request that your father gets some financial aid to get by." I feel like that will not make up for imprisoning his son, Yuri, but whatever helps you sleep

"Blech." That's also how I feel about Weird Brother Yuri, Anya

"Revenge will only make you sadder. I'll make you forget about all that with my love." This is the plot of Naruto

Honestly, I was super sold on the Bondman Polycule when it was just him, his spy partner Agent M, and the enemy spy lady who had all linked arms together. I feel like this could work:

"How was anything he did gentlemanly?" Loid said: I'm a one-woman kind of spy

"Lord Damian, how could you possibly pick the joker there." "Shut up!' [Internally] She's so unfair... Damn it! I like to believe Loid might approve of Damian's crush purely because he is also willing to do whatever Anya wants if she makes one (1) sad face

Poor Anya. She's really most suited to using her street smarts

"Garden? The group of assassins who have been in this country for ages? They're basically urban legends, aren't they?" FINALLY we're finding out more about Yor's job!! They do in fact seem at cross purposes with the spies

[Loid already walking away] "He's such a heartless jerk." I bet you $5 he has already decided to help Franky LMAO

Update from 8 min later: Alright, I owe you $5, he didn't care

"Am I normal?! Oh, thank goodness!" said Yor excitedly, as if that were not a moderately suspicious response to being called normal

Excited for an ep with no double-barreled title. Plot progression!

I truly don't know where this falls on the spectrum of ways that anime will depict black and brown characters LMAO. Like Donovan Desmond, the Shopkeeper has an extremely haunting aura:

"You will be providing protection on this mission." Oooooh, change of pace!

"Is there actually any reason why I should continue my job as a killer?" A question every assassin should ask themselves, I think

"HQ may or may not be trying to cut back on our shady overtime practices." Incredible. I can't believe even the underground spy agency has PTO. I wonder who regulates spy labour law

"If not for this bodyguard job, the three of us could've enjoyed this vacation together." AWWW Yor loves her family so much

"You can say this is a gangster's destiny." [Reba voice] A single mom who works too hard, who loves her kid never stops!

"Papa! We need to hurry up and explore the ship before it sinks!" "It's not going to sink! Stop scaring everyone." The fact the staircase looks distinctly modelled after that one scene from Titanic really sells Anya's point

Loid incapable of framing having fun as anything but a mission ljggkjgj truly he might benefit from a Real Psychologist

"That family's just for camoflauge, right?" "Yes, you're right... Is... that true?" I love Yor slowly admitting that she loves her family for their own sake 💗

As Yor was declaring doing her best, I did worry briefly that someone was going to [redact] Olka. Other anime have been less kind to me than Spy x Family

I love Yor making another mum friend in Olka 💞 Gal pals

Finally saying suspicious things in public has a consequence!!

"It's been a while since we've had dinner without Mama." "Yeah, it's a bit lonely." Hee hee, Loid misses his wife

I love the immediate transformation in Yor's face as soon as Olka/Shaty says she didn't order room service

I don't have much to say but I am really entranced by the assassin vs. assassin + informant goings on!!

"I may not look it, but I'm a married woman, so I'll have to decline." Absolutely loving Yor quietly and efficiently beating these hitmen unconscious as she passes through the cruise ship

"Which is it?! Would normal parents buy their child something in this situation or not?!" Loid is incapable of making a decision without thinking about how it looks in relation to him being a spy. Anxiety king

[In Anya's mind] "Yor! You're an assasin who hates frogs? Let's get a divorce. The Forgers are done." Like father, like anxiety-ridden daughter

"I am a normal father. A good father," said Loid, which is frankly not usually something a good or normal father would say

"Papa, you're not excited at all." Loid defeated by one (1) six-year-old's piercingly accurate psychoanalysis

Loid is facing a true Psychological Battle: The Fitting Room

Anya Ultimate Wingman Award for convincing everyone her mum's battle is actually a circus act

Awwww, Zeb, Fake Husband to Olka, likes her. I hope this is a healthy experience in Yor seeing other fake couples work it out, but I do also think Zeb could mega-die

"As long we people continue to be people, conflict will never end." Alright, Director Doomsday, calm down

"What am I? What am I doing this for?" [B Eilish voice] What was I made foooooor?

"Does she hate me? Or is she just going through a rebellious phase?" Loid whenever one of the Forger girls looks upset: THIS MUST BE MY FAULT SOMEHOW

A hasty and confident NO to Assassin Sniff's whole vibes

We interrupt this program to think about how cute Loid and Anya are!! I love Loid entertaining Anya and also supporting her while he thinks she's missing Yor

"Nice, Mr. Husband!" Oh good, we love a bulletproof vest for Zeb!

Truly a wild juxtaposition of Forger Family Fireworks Night:

"This might be a bit late to ask, but would you consider just peacefully going home?" I love you, Compassionate Combat

I'm having a hard time believing all this will happen without Loid eventually noticing; the fireworks are long gone. I actually do hope Loid crashes her battle, Director Doomsday is out cold

"I'm doing this to support my family.... wait. I guess I am also doing this for money. But... no, I make enough to survive now. I'm hunting down bad guys for my country! For my country? Have I always been so righteous? What am I doing this for?" Poor Yor, this is like the worst possible time for an existential crisis

YOR AND LOID BOTH BEING MOTIVATED BY THEIR DESIRE FOR OTHERS TO LIVE A PEACEFUL LIFE 😭💘😭💘😭💘😭💘

[In Yor's flashback] "Be it for someone else, or for a specific reason, having to endure a merciless job... That's something to be very proud of." I'm sure Loid will acknowledge me. He'll forgive me. I like to think so too, Yor!!

Never mind to Loid helping Yor out, he is busy disarming a bomb threatening to sink them. This truly is the Titanic LMAO

LGLHGLGJHGLJHG Anya accidentally tripping the assassins so they shoot each other. Like mother, like daughter 💖

"You'll be able to enjoy the symphony of agonized screams and roars coming through the wiretaps on this ship." I can't wait for Loid to sink this guy with his own clock-bomb

Update from 30 seconds later: See? Self-owned and sunk

Awwwww Yor really does deserve the baby hug after the day she's had:

"I pray that, someday, you and your family will be able to find true peace." OLKAAAA

"I know it was an emergency, but I ended up casting my family aside again." Loid and Yor having the same crisis about whether to prioritize their family or their jobs 🥺🥺🥺

Loid's blush at Yor catching him skipping as he continues to skip over in her direction. Hee hee

"I hope peaceful days like this will continue forever." ME TOO, YOR!

Get you a mum who would secretly beat up sharks for you ❤️‍🩹

Setting aside how fun snorkeling is, absolutely terrible idea to go into the ocean with an open wound OMG

Loid carrying his whole family is the cutest thing I've ever seen, 10 bajilion/10zo; perfect:

[Internally] "You did a great job." Loid is in loooooove

"I can never tell if he's actually clever, or clumsy." Me either, Handler

Anya learning about the vacation disparity of rich kids LMAO

"If youre going to create a persona for yourself, you need to be strategic and commit." Not Loid turning this lie lecture into a spy lecture in his mind

"Lying is too much work, so I'll try not to do it anymore." Anya's entire set of adult role models do nothing but lie all the time, she really has no frame of reference for honesty

I do a little bit hate the Becky fantasizing about Loid thing, I have been Cardcaptor Sakura'd too much in life

NOT ANYA SELLING OUT HER MUM FOR THE POSSIBILITY OF BECKY BEING HER RICH SIX-YEAR-OLD STEPMUM OH MY GOD

I feel like they take a lot of liberties in translating "Loid-sama" as "my precious Loid" but hey, he is precious

"Yor's going to get the wrong idea, somehow." Loid has finally registered that this child is obsessed with him and he is only concerned for wife not thinking he's a freak. A good husband above all else

"I really don't understand the children of rich people." Me either, Loid

I need you to see Loid's face as Becky declares that this is his expression of love for Yor:

"Your heart is as vast as the sky, and you're stronger than the earth itself. You're the perfect lady." Correct, Becky! Yor is amazing

"I had some extra souvenirs left after handing them out to everyone else. Do you want them?" LMAO @ the implication being lost on Fiona that he doesn't even think of her enough to warrant her own souvenir

I will say, I really do resonate with the theme of the ep being Loid is Hot and Amazing to Everyone But No One Will Ever Measure Up to Yor in His Eyes

"Maybe you're too nice, and biting and barking don't really suit you." Everyone in the Forger family is too nice for their job, including Bond Forger, Precognitive Puppy

Awwww Bond trying to help out all the humans with his visions

LNKFHKFHKJFH Loid really just got reprimanded by his dog

"And he went into save [Daisy the puppy]? What an impressive dog!" I love the Spy Dad-Psychic Puppy tag-team ❤️

[Internally] "I am a cool-headed spy. I cannot let my emotions show." Loid remains deadpan through SO many things but his dog looking a little funny while wet is his limit. What a man!

"Don't push yourself too hard. There's someone waiting back home who would be sad if you died." 1) V sweet, dad first, hero second. And 2) This is the second time Loid has directly spoken to his life situation with a simultaneous thinly-veined dog metaphor

WAHHHHHHH Loid and Bond's heroics being acknowledged by Anya giving them little paper Stellas:

Yor immediately joining in and congratulating them for their hard work on their walk!!! I LOVE ONE (1) SPY X FAMILY 😭😭😭😭😭 IT'S A NICE SHOW

#ayesha talks anime #spy x family #liveblogging #sxf series #spy x family series #ayesha liveblogs spy x family #long post #guns tw #moqueueton #been a while since i've been able to watch 2 seasons of a show in succession!! very fun to continue

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