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festive · 1 year

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✿ - cyno x fem!reader

content+warnings: fem!reader, pet names used, established relationships, vaginal penetration, vaginal fingering, use of vibrators, multiple orgasms.

✿ - a/n: posted on my ao3 a few days ago, decided to post here. anyways more scholar!reader x cyno. happy holidays, y’all!

++ tagging: @bubble4u @thicksimpx

Cyno's been worried about you; lately, he's overheard from the other students just how hard you've been working — day in and day out, dedicating yourself to your studies; even Faruzan had mentioned you once or twice to him in hopes that he could help.

Although, as clever as Cyno was, not even he knew what he could do — yeah, Cyno could play mother hen and tell you not to overwork yourself, but even he knows you're way too stubborn to listen, and you would probably shrug him off with 'just five more minutes.

Not knowing how he could help, he turned to a friend. He's thankful he caught Kaveh when he did, much to the blonde's dismay seeing as how Kaveh was complaining about being locked out again.

But considering how fond of Cyno, Kaveh was, as soon as he heard the dilemma, he was more than willing to help. He had given the smaller male plenty of solutions, yet they all led him to the same place.

A foreign goods vendor on the outskirts of the bazaar, that's what the eccentric blonde had told him.

Cyno walks around mindlessly, his eyes falling on all the different shops and trinkets that decorate the way. From the candy to the freshly baked goods, he'd bring you some later as a treat after he buys what he needs first.

Cyno did a fantastic job brushing off all the cowering looks he received from countless people, wondering what archon-forsaken thing sent him to the bazaar. Even with his disguise, the jackal ears that stood proudly on his hood were very distinguishable.

Look for the stand on the furthest part of the bazaar. It's hard to miss. Kaveh's words ring through Cyno's head. The stand on the most distant part.. he murmurs.

And sure enough, after walking for what felt like hours. There stood the shop, hidden behind two other stalls, draped in deep purple and golden clothes — although nothing distinguished this seller from the others.

"Are you the shopkeeper?"

He's greeted by a taller woman that dwarfed him completely in height, with darker skin — long purple hair that was parted down the middle, but what stood out the most was the pair of long, fluffy ears that protruded proudly from her head, reminiscent of Tighnari's, and the geo vision that rested upon her neck.

"Why yes, you're correct, young general mahamatra," Cyno quirks an eyebrow, and the woman laughs, pushing aside the candles and other exotic goods across the counter. "I am Sheba. I've heard all about you from Kaveh,"

Sheba, as she calls herself, ducks underneath her desk. Cyno can hear her fumbling with whatever's under there — watching as her puffy tail sways back and forth until she finally gets up.

"I have exactly what you need," Her cerulean eyes beam, lighting up in joy as she places an item on the counter, nearly pushing it into Cyno's hold.

Cyno glances at it expectantly, snatching it off the counter.

It looks like it's made of the same advanced technology the ruin guards are made of, he thinks — knowing exactly what their reactor cores look like, he finds it odd how the device has the same designs.

"Is this a weapon?" Cyno asks, curiously looking over the wand-shaped item he was handed — the object's outline reflecting in his ruby-red eyes. Cyno's seen many odd devices, runes, and mechanisms, but nothing compares to this. He continues examining it, checking for any blades.

The merchant laughs, nearly doubling over in amusement. "Hah, surely you jest?" Then, wiping at her eyes as water collects around the edges.

Cyno stares at her blankly, lips formed into a straight line before summoning his weapon. Sheba jumps, eyes locking onto the sharp blade of his polearm.

"Ahaha, no need for violence. Here, allow me to demonstrate," cautiously Sheba gestures towards the device, palm shakily reaching forward until finally, Cyno places the object in her palms. She chooses her following words wisely, she's heard of all the rumors and tales that circled the General Mahamatra, and she was determined not to be the next story in the tavern.

"Look," Sheba says while pushing one of the buttons. Cyno watches as the device's intrinsic designs glow before it starts up, the blunt end of the object vibrating furiously. "See, like this," The woman laughs awkwardly, trying to save her hide.

"I see,"

To further sell her point, she starts talking about how advanced the piece of technology is. "It's popular amongst the women in Fontaine. In fact," She drawls, watching as Cyno looms in closer. "they all recommended this as their best way to relieve built-up stress."

It's working. Cyno's further intrigued; his ears perk up when she mentions the stress part.

"And look," Holding out the device, Sheba waves it around before pressing another button. "It even comes with different vibrations, and you can control the speed!" She chirps, demonstrating all its settings.

"How much," Cyno asks, arms folded against his chest.

"200,000 mora."

"That's a scam,"

Sheba sighs, ears drooping dramatically before taking the toy in her palms. "I guess you don't really want to help your beloved that much," She turns away, a sly smirk playing on her lips while she waits for the white-haired man to fall victim to her ploy.

And just like that, it happens.

"I love my beloved wife very much," Cyno grumbles, reaching for his pouch that carried all his mora before dropping it on the counter. "It's yours."

"Sold," Sheba beams, "and just for you, I'll wrap it, just like a gift!"

After completing the transaction, Cyno picks up his purchase before trailing off.

Kaveh was right. His friend was a lovesick fool, Sheba thinks.

"Thanks for the purchase. I hope to see you again soon." She beams, waving off the smaller man, praying to the archons she'll see him again — fools like him were her favorite, easy buyers.

Cyno didn't even realize he was gone for so long until he felt the cold desert air brush against his skin, making haste towards your home away from school.

He can see the candle-lit room from your opened window. The more he peeks in. Finally, he can see you hunched over your desk on the other side.

He's quick and quiet — effortlessly sneaking in through the open window. You don't even realize he's in your room until he speaks up.

"My dove," his voice is soft but enough to startle you, nearly causing you to shriek as you jump in your seat.

"Oh, archons, Cyno, you nearly gave me a heart attack." You sigh, your heart still pounding from the scare you received mere minutes before.

Your lover apologizes, "You've been overworking yourself," Cyno points to the bags that have grown underneath your eyes, then to the paperwork in front of you.

"I know," You let out a heavy breath, "but look, I'm almost done," Before you pick your pen up, Cyno snatches it away, careful not to hurt you.

"Tonight, I want you to relax,"

"But,"

"I'm not asking you. You will," Cyno's voice is stern, causing you to lean back in your seat, defeated. Your eyes wander to the bags placed in his hands, and soon enough, his gaze follows yours.

"What's that," You point. Cyno merely shrugs, placing them both on your bed before digging through them. You're quick to recognize the smell that wafts through the air.

"Padisarah pudding," you inquire, sniffing the air for good measure. "I want it,"

A gentle smile tugs at Cyno's lips as a soft laugh escapes him. "After,"

You huff. "What else did you get?"

Cyno's hands fumble with the other bag. You can hear the sound of paper wrinkling as he searches for whatever it is. "A foreign gift," unboxing the 'gift,' Cyno holds it up.

You nearly choke on your spit as you realize what he bought precisely. "That's a vibrator," you cover your face in embarrassment, having heard countless stories about how your friends had enjoyed them.

"A what," Cyno looks at you perplexed, as he examines the vibrator again. "The merchant said this was popular amongst the women,"

You try to stifle a laugh, although you fail horribly. "Oh, I'm sure it is,"

As soon as you stop laughing, you explain to Cyno its purpose, feeding his curiosity as he stares between you and the toy.

"Can we use it?" Cyno asks all too eagerly.

"What,"

"Can we try it,"

Although embarrassing, it's pretty endearing seeing how eager Cyno was to use it. You nod, "I don't see why not, but how do to go about this?" Then, you question, did he want to watch you use it? You wonder.

A sly smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, "You'll see."

The buzzing sound coming from the vibrator resonates through the room — mixed in with the soft gasps and whimpers that fall from your lips.

"Cyno,"

Your lover hums, rubbing circles into the softness of your breasts. Your legs are shaking above his, and it's getting harder for you to keep them extended —- sensing this, he spreads them even further using his limbs; your knees fold over him as he forces them open.

"Relax for me, my dove," Cyno dips his head further into the crook of your neck, placing gentle kisses upon the column until finally, his lips stop behind your ear.

"You've been working so hard lately, let me take care of you." The drop of timbre in his voice, mixed with his warm breath fanning against your skin, is enough for the hair on your neck to stand up while it sends shivers down your spine.

Leaving no room for argument, you recline to your fate — allowing yourself to relax as the toy rubs against your clit, massaging the poor bundle of nerves in a tantalizing slow motion.

"Cyno," you moan breathlessly as you allow your body to lay limp against his — closing your eyes, you let your head lul against his chest as you focus on the sensation, allowing your fantasies to race through your mind.

Cyno's hand plays with your breast while the other grips the vibrating wand, holding it between your legs as the heads nudged between your folds, vibrating against your clit.

The position your lover has you in is embarrassing, leaving nothing to be hidden as you're forced to stare at your semi-naked body in the mirror. In addition, your robe is awkwardly out of place, the ends bunched up around your waist, while the top is undone, hanging loose enough to expose your chest to the cool air.

"You're so beautiful," He praises, and you gasp — the toy bringing you even closer to your orgasm. You grab his wrist, your breaths becoming shallow as the coil in your tummy tightens.

"'S close," You slur, fidgeting in his lap, your ass grinding against his growing erection with enough friction to cause him to groan.

Even his grasp on the vibrator becomes shaky, as you continue to grind your hips against his, bucking your cunt into the toy.

"'S close, 's close," You cry out, Cyno presses another button, and you can hear the faint click before the head of the toy speeds up.

Although there's another faint noise, and just as you're about to cum, the toy stops — leaving you pent up at your high without a way down before the feeling disappears.

You look at Cyno horrified, and he mutters a string of curses under his breath. "Stupid cat, selling me a defective good," he swears in reference to the merchant from before.

"I—" he bites on his inner cheek, "I can fix this," Tossing the dead toy to the side, Cyno traces your folds with his fingers. Your slick catching on his digits. "You're so wet," He breathes against your shoulder before placing a sweet kiss on your skin.

You shudder, feeling Cyno sink his fingers into your heat. He starts with two, slowly pushing them in and out of your cunt — slightly stretching your hole with each thrust.

"More!" You whine, and you can feel Cyno's muscles flex against your back as he hunches over you — speeding up his ministrations.

As soon as your slick pools around him, he slides in an extra finger — curving them just enough to prod and poke at your spongiest spot that has you seeing stars.

He's sure he's found it by how your thighs quiver around his and how your breath hitches in your throat. Finally, he pulls back, retracting his fingers before sliding them back in with enough precision to impale that sensitive spot inside you.

Spots of white decorate your sight as that familiar feeling from before comes back. Your hands claw at Cyno's muscular thighs, your nails leaving scratches across his flesh.

"Gonna cum," You moan, drool spilling from the corner of your lips. You nearly lose it as you feel Cyno thumb at your clit — vigorously rubbing circles into the hardened nub.

Your body falls limp against Cyno's hold, your orgasm hitting you hard as he lazily pumps his fingers inside you while your walls spasm around him.

He kisses your temple, his lips soft against your skin.

"You did so well. You know that?" Cyno hums, and you can still feel his erection straining against you.

"What 'bout you," you slur, still hazy from your orgasm.

"Ah, don't worry about it," He says, placing a chaste kiss upon your lips.

"But I want to," Your hands weakly fumble with the hem of his pants until you finally free his cock — he hisses, feeling you guide him towards your cunt. Spreading your folds with his shaft as you grind yourself against him.

"You're dangerous. You know that?"

Cyno lays with his back against the bed, beads of sweat forming along his brows as he anxiously watches you.

You lift your hips slightly, aligning yourself with the leaky tip of Cyno's cock — rubbing it up and down your folds.

Cyno groans, and you feel him shudder underneath you before he mutters out a quick ‘don’t tease me’, there’s a pause, and you hear a ‘please’ after — it’s small, but desperate enough for you to almost feel bad.

"Sorry," you mumble, sinking your hips against his. You nearly choke on your spit as Cyno's cock forces its way inside you — his sheer girth alone, feeling like it'll split you in two.

A soft moan escapes Cyno's lips as he bottoms out, the warmth of your gummy walls wrapping around him going insane.

There's a smirk on your face as you lean closer to Cyno, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. "Gonna take care of you,"

You wait for a moment, giving yourself enough time to relax around his girth.

Cyno, unsure of what to do, places his hands loosely on your hips, the tips of his thumbs rubbing circles in the softness of your skin.

His eyebrows are furrowed, and you can see his lips quiver as he tries to hold himself back — his flustered expression was cute, you think.

Your pace starts off slow while you relish in the way your lover's cock fits inside you — much to his dismay, Cyno rolls his hips against yours, desperately looking for more friction.

"Cyno," You moan, and the man underneath you groans, gritting his teeth — he can barely take it. He needs more.

Cyno doesn't say a word, and the grip on your hips becomes bruising, but before you have the chance even to think — you're flipped onto your back with your lover looming over you.

"Cyno," You look at him in surprise. Cyno readjusts your body into a better position — throwing your legs carelessly over his shoulders as he guides his cock back toward your hole.

You nearly choke on your spit as Cyno slams into you with a relentless pace, your arms wrap around his body in hopes of grounding yourself — though the more he ruts into you, the harder it is for you to think.

Especially when the tip of his cock pounds against your cervix with each movement while his shaft drags along your walls — all you can think about is how good he feels inside you.

"You feel so good," he groans, although you can barely register the words coming from his mouth. Your brain feels fuzzy, and it's getting harder for you to concentrate.

Cyno's name falls off your lips like a prayer as he continues thrusting into you, your walls squeezing tightly around him — it's not long before he pulls another orgasm from you.

This time you scream, falling slack against the covers. Cyno wraps an arm around you, almost possessively, while he readjusts your body to slam into you with a better angle.

He pants, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with a pap noise. He's close.

All it takes is a few more thrusts before his cock twitches for the last time — spilling his seed inside your cunt as he idly thrusts into you until he's sure you've thoroughly milked him.

The mixture of your juices seeps out from your folds as he pulls away with a squelching sound. His hold on your waist falters, but his arm still rests across your flesh. You can feel the sweat dripping from him.

You both don't say anything, preferring to bask in the silence of your post-orgasmic bliss and enjoy each other's presence. Until your stomach growls and your eyes shoot open. Suddenly you remember the treat he had brought before.

“Cyno, I want the pudding!”

#cyno x reader smut #cyno x reader #cyno x y/n #cyno x you #genshin impact x reader smut #genshin impact x you smut #cyno imagines #genshin drabbles #cyno smut

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jben073 · 6 months

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Grace Chasity headcanon rambles!

Some silly Grace hcs for @nighthaterfrfr!! I tried to mostly avoid any of mine that you mentioned something similar to in yours bc we had a good deal of overlap! :D

(Just to preface, one of my biggest headcanons is that Grace is autistic so there’s a good chance that some of these may be influenced by that! I did try to pick ones that are more applicable to canon though! [But if anyone wants any of those, I have about a million :3])

When Grace was a young child in elementary school (or Sunday school), she very innocently kissed Alice Woodward and felt something™. (She entirely represses this memory for YEARS.)

^ During her eventual sexuality crisis, despite not having talked to Alice for years outside of polite conversation if they ran into one another, Grace reaches out to her for support/to ask questions because she was the only out queer person that Grace knew and trusted enough not to out her. (Alice big sister mode activated.)

^ (They’re so silly, they’ve literally never interacted outside of a throwaway line about them knowing and possibly disliking each other but to me they're friends who fell apart and eventually find each other again when they're both more grown as people.)

^ Also, ignore me indulging my other biggest hc which is that Grace is a lesbian.

Grace took piano lessons as a child and is actually quite good because she wanted to be the pianist for her church’s masses when she got older! She stopped taking lessons in high school, but she keeps up with playing in her free time to maintain the skill and occasionally help out with music at her church.

^ Richie constantly tries to convince her to learn anime openings and music from games that he plays for him (he begged her to learn Megalovania for weeks until she finally gave in).

She has never celebrated Halloween because her parents think it’s satanic so Ruth and Richie (who definitely still go trick-or-treating in high school) make a point to bring her some of their candy on the following school day.

^ She definitely doesn’t cry about this gesture later when she goes home!!

She is an absolute monster while playing board games, like she gets REALLY aggressive about them.

^ (definitely influenced by Angela's chaos on smosh games, especially the “be a little more gentle!! >:(” clip)

She can’t go to sleep (intentionally) without getting a kiss goodnight. At home, her parents kiss her on the forehead before bed and if she’s at camp, she has to get a kiss on the head from Girl Jeri if she wants to sleep well.

^ It disrupts her routine which makes it harder for her to wind down!!

^ I like to think that before the events of Abstinence Camp, she thought of Boy Jerry and Girl Jeri as older sibling figures.

She has never been to a sleepover because she’s never had good enough friends to be invited to one :(

^ The nerds + Steph very quickly remedy this!!

^ (quick ramble related to the last hc) During the first group sleepover, Steph wakes up in the middle of the night to get a drink, realizes Grace is still up, and after Grace sheepishly admits her dilemma following Steph’s prompting for an explanation, Steph very casually plants a kiss on her forehead and then goes back to sleep. Grace’s face is beet red after this and now she can’t sleep for an entirely different reason.

^ They're in love to me!!!

LIB related

(Based almost entirely on Blinky’s line about watching Grace and the nightmare about Max/Richie that implies she has the gift.)

^ Grace has been connected to the Lords in Black since long before we see her, Steph, and Pete summon them in NPMD.

^ Much like Lex was friends with Webby as a child and forgot, Grace was friends with the LIB when she was young but grew out of it.

^ (I have a whole little overanalysis/hc set of things for this hc if anyone wants to hear :3)

After she starts using the Black Book, her appearance starts to very slightly change so that she always looks just a tiny bit off.

^ Her teeth are just a touch too sharp, her ears have the slightest point to them, and her eyes almost seem to shift in colour (depending on which LIB is influencing her).

^ But hey, it must just be a trick of the light!! She's so normal!! Dw about it!!!

She will occasionally feel the sudden compulsion to bite others (Nibbly is feeling silly!!)

^ She does not act on this… most of the time :3

One more silly one to end on

She once owned a Tamagotchi and became so deeply stressed over the state of this virtual creature that she made herself sick from anxiety.

^ Karen and Mark confiscated the toy very shortly after this.

Anyway ramble's over now but my 45 page google doc of Grace hcs continues to grow every day bc I am fixated hard on this silly little show :3

edit: had to add the '^' thing because the bullets didn't indent properly for some reason!! every one that has that is attached to the previous one without it!

also idk why on mobile the sleepover hc and the Alice hc got cut short?? The sleepover one is supposed to say that now she can't sleep for an entirely different reason and the end of the second bullet says (Alice big sister mode activated).

#grace chasity #nerdy prudes must die #npmd #starkid #hatchetfield #nightmare time #stephanie lauter #lautity #stephgrace #starkid hcs

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littledead-ridinghood · 2 years

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okay, on my last meta I said Bruce has made Jason cry before and shown a lack of remorse for the fact as he does in the webtoon, and @tumblingxelian asked if they could see my "crying Jason" folder for their comic analysis videos (which go watch them!!! They're very good and break down misconceptions of characters usually focusing around Talia Al Ghul, Jason Todd, and Stephanie Brown). Specifically, the ones where bruce makes Jason cry. There's a 10-panel limit so this will be two parts split up between part one: Adult Jason and Part Two: Child Jason. These panels are either because Bruce made him cry or Bruce is in relation to the problem of why Jason is crying (think Lost Days which will be in the next part).

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Red Hood: Outlaws webtoon; episode 10, "Like Father, Like Son"

Shockingly, this is not the interaction that sparked so much controversy over the last couple of days. People are more so focused on Jason's Robin portrayal and the modern version of "he's another speck of dirt that belongs in the sewer" dialogue (no that's not what bruce said in the webtoon, for transparency, but that's what the toddler quote reminded me of. Bruce, when really mad at Jason always circles back to him being "dirty" and a "destined criminal" which I can write a whole think piece about if anyone cares(please)). As I said yesterday, I have had and still have no plans to read this story, the summary never interested me when announced and now I'm scared, so, grain of salt, people!

Roughly, Bruce and Jason get into an argument over the outlaws incompetently breaking laws. To which Bruce treats Jason like how a sexist pig of a man treats a woman when upset (i.e. "are you on your period?") It isn't later revealed until the end of the story (about 6-7 panels later) that yes, Jason was in fact crying underneath his helmet for the majority of his interaction with Bruce.

Classic Under the Red Hood monologue. Bruce didn't make Jason purposefully cry here, he, they, are both just....really goin' through it. Jason is crying, Bruce can't even look at him out of guilt and shame. I don't think this one needs much explanation, Jason would rather die than live with the Joker continuing to wreak havoc, and if Bruce doesn't do it, that's fine, he will, but if that bothers the man then he's gonna have to kill his resurrected son (spoilers: He does)

Remember, folks! We end this monologue with a flayed open and dead Jason!

This one I didn't realize Jason was crying because the panel's so small on the actual page until a different person pointed it out and I was like "Holy Fuck He Is! *screenshot*"

This one comes from Event Levithan (2020) where Bruce asked for Jason's help with the mass killings that have been going on around the world until Bruce reveals his hand and accuses Jay of being the mastermind behind the whole plot. The idea that Bruce was going off of was that Jason was blacking out and doing it out of grief over Roy's demise or something. Not a strong case. But, yes, this takes place in the continuity when Jason is Super DisownedTM. When Bruce finds him I'm pretty sure Jason says something along the lines of "I'm surprised you want my help" (it's been a minute). Once again, Jason's fully prepared to ignore his emotional grief and work placidly with Bruce's team. He just wanted to help Bruce on this case before Bruce once again takes that trust and shatters it (Ex: Batman and Robin N52 #20, iykyk). You can see the dark tear on the black part of his mask when he realizes and questions Bruce about what he actually wants with him. Bruce then sends his detective team off to apprehend Jason, who escapes because even if this story has super janky dialogue and unclear art, at least we get competent Jason.

This is from Jason's White Knight spin-off. Total Elseworld, but the theme carries over, Bruce, this time in relation, making Jason cry. The dude's kinda fucked up from being tortured for, what is it here, 3 months? Jason gets tortured a lot, kind of a multiversal constant for the man. You know that trope in sportsball movies where the guy's like "I could've gone pro if not for XYZ injury and my dreams were shattered. Don't end up like me. Don't play this game; it's a waste of time!" before becoming the gruff reluctant mentor to said child? That's Jason's characterization here, but, hey, at least he acknowledges he needs help. Again, Jason is only the sanest bat because he's the only one, elseworld and canon, who I've ever seen remark on the fact that their person is so entirely messed up, sick in the head, and needs help. All the other bats are like "I'm Fine!" when they're clearly not fine. So, A for effort. Again, very UtRH monologue, more so having a breakdown in relation to bruce rather than bruce causing it. He looks so young and forlorn in the second to last panel, and so alone in the last :(

This is Scott's interpretation of UtRH in RHatO V1. Very pretty Jason, not what happened. This was not a scene, and the rest of this scene completely contradicts Jason's main goal in UtRH, but I can't resist a crying Jason panel. He's debating shooting Bruce, he won't, but this one, ONE, panel of Lobdell's UtRH retcon does, I feel, accurately represent Jason's feelings during his Lost Days/UtRH phase. Think of him putting the bomb underneath the Batmobile. He says he wants Bruce to die, but every time he has the ability to do it, Jason is hit with these overwhelming feelings of "No, I *Don't* want Bruce to die! I just want him to understand!" That's why UtRH is so intriguing to read because yes, Jason primary goal is to control crime because a utopia of no crime is impossible. Yes, he's also an 18-year-old who died alone, came back alone, and didn't legitimately regain his ability to function until late 16-early 17 with the whole new trauma of the pit. You gotta find that sweet spot of morality & philosophy juxtaposed against feelings & trauma. Very Man vs. God. Yes, he brought Gotham's criminal world to his knees. Yes, to Jason, he literally died like 18 months earlier whereas everyone else got a nice 3 years to process his death and move on.

Bonus classic "Jason is clearly devasted but not crying" panels:

Hey! remember earlier when I mentioned Batman and Robin N52 #20? Ya, that's this one! I love using it in metas because I feel it's often forgotten about. This is after the Death of the Family arc where the Joker says he cut off the bats' faces with a razor blade and was going to force feed it to them as well as Dick forced to go undercover by Bruce (everyone else thinks he's dead), and Damian's death arc. In RHatO V1, the clown almost kills Jason again via acid to the face, so he's in a coma having unreliable narration within fever dreams until he has a heart-to-heart with subconscious Bruce. He wakes up and has a heart-to-heart with Real Bruce where they bury the hatchet (Jason took all the blame for everything in their relationship (Bruce! slit! his! throat!)). Later, when Bruce drops Jason off in front of his murder location, that whole interaction reads Very emotionally manipulative and prime-y (which is why I can take neither the hug with dream or real Bruce with love. Again, bitchful Killjoy. sorry). I could talk about this forever! He's so heartbroken! On the next page Jason says "how he was ready to put everything behind him." and that he "was done looking back." Anyway, they fight. Jason throws the first punch and kinda sorta halfway misses and Bruce responds with a whammy to the jaw. Hitting him into the dirt in the same spot the joker did. It comes to light, implicitly, that Bruce didn't even want Jason there to reveal his murder, but because he knew it would trigger Jason to lash out at him. He was using Jason as a tool to punish himself. Jason commits mental suicide after this; enter: amnesia arc.

Again, no tears. But they're implied.

I wanted to put the entirety of RHatO V2 #25 here, but, because that is not possible, instead y'all get this third of a page where Jason's literally given up and dropped into unconsciousness to which Bruce finally stops beating him. ahhh family, you know, dragging them around like trash because you think they did something but also have a shit tone of pent-up anger over your failed wedding and the scapegoat just happens to get caught in the crossfire of everything, and oh! Look! It looks like you beat your kid to death with your bare hands! Oh My God! Jason predominantly doesn't fight back during this, hardly even defends himself. Jason doesn't cry when he's taking or taken hits. He just rolls with them. Whether he thinks he deserves it, taking the hits for someone else and wants to be a strong protector, and/or he grew u getting beat around a lot so he's used to it/doesn't want to give [them] what they want/knows it'll only make it worse/etc etc. (*whispers* he's a child of severe abuse).

Jason is characterized as someone who is super smart, logical, and pragmatic, but he also acts with his heart a lot. He wears his helmet because as much as he tries to hide his true feelings, he has never been able to consistently hide them from his face and sleeve. Jason gets pulled in multiple directions by who he is and by what a bat is supposed to be, and I don't mean that just kill or no kill. That is not the only line that isolates him from the other. Part is due that the majority of the bats joined and formed in the wake of his death, but also a lot of his internal working seem very not bat-stereotype no matter how much his external is. I will always go back to his freedom of emotional expression on this as it's such a huge part of his character that other bats constantly rag on. For another example, for as many trust issues he has and as many times his trust has been broken, Jason, as opposed to many of the other bats, consistently puts himself back out there to trust people again and again, even if it's the same people who have abused that trust. Jason continues to try to fix things with Bruce, he continues to help people who have tried to kill him before, multiple times even (Think Duela and Suzie Sue), he tells his non-superhero friends who he is (think isabella in V1 who really wanted that openness from Jason and he gave it to here), and he continuously places complete and utter absolute trust in the teams he runs with. Artemis even said, roughly, in V2, that "as much as he tries to pretend he doesn't, Jason cares a lot. Takes every hit to the heart." And that's just a whole long-winded way of saying I like that Jason cries a lot because that emotional rawness of overwhelming emotion is really cathartic to read. I've read metas and commentary on it where people complain that Jason cries too much and it makes him pathetic and weak. I disagree. Jason has always just been like that, and this segues into Part Two! Child Jason crying about Bruce

#i'm proud of that ending lead into the next part #bruce wayne #jason todd #jason todd meta

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sunlightandsuffering · 27 days

Note

Fratboy Eren lures Mikasa to one of his frat parties under false pretenses. He convinces her to come over because he really needs help studying and when she shows up to his house and there is music blaring with people everywhere drunk out of their minds, she's PISSED. But Eren is just like "Great, you're here! Now can you lick this tequila off my abs please🥺"

YES !!!!!!! YES YES YES!!!

Eren isn't going to say he doesn't like frat parties. That would be wrong, immoral even, against the code.

But he is willing to admit that they do get kind of tiring after a while. So many girls, too many different names to pretend to remember, too many people touching him. After a while it just gets well... overstimulating and not in a good way.

There's girls caressing his forearms, begging him to take his shirt off, to be the canvas in which they lick tequila from, and sure, in theory it all sounds fun.

And at any other opportunity he'd jump at the chance, but today, he'd driven several hours back to school from home... without Mikasa to entertain him and supply him with home-made sandwiches. He's simply exahausted and he doesn't feel like fielding random girls from touching his dick while they lick tequila off his abs. It doesn't sound enjoyable in the least.

He just wants to lie down in his bedroom, nure his headache with ibuprofen and gatorade and fall asleep cradled in Mikasa's boobs. Is that so much to ask? "C'mon Eren, get in line it's your turn to be the shot next!" Porco goads him and Eren groans, yeah apparently it is too much to ask.

It's a long shot and honestly, unless Mikasa is nearby there's no way she'll make it in time, but he's gotta at least try.

Eren, 10:11 pm

If i buy you mcdonalds will you proofread my paper on why helen of troy is a babe?

He gets a response a minute later, ever punctual Mikasa and Eren tries his very best not to be smug, because being smug will do nothing but piss her off.

Mikasa, 10:12 pm

If it's on the disgusting sexist way that Helen was treated and how ridiculous it is that the trojan horse is more famous and discussed than her sacrafice....

After a while, Eren simply stops reading, especially when his little spitfire continues to send multiple paragraphs, there's only so much he cares about Helen. Eren, 10:15 pm

That's what it says, wanna come over?

Mikasa, 10:15 pm

Eren so help me god if your paper title is '10 Reasons Helen of Troy is A Babe' i'll kill you.

He doesn't doubt it.

Eren, 10:15 pm

Come over and you can find out.

Mikasa, 10:16 pm

I'm at the library, I don't have time. Every minute they spend arguing is a minute closer to his fate as a shot glass, he can't play her coy little games tonight as much as he loves them. So Eren does something he usually doesn't do with Mikasa, doesn't expose her too because it's a surefire way to turn her bright red and get her hot and bothered, too powerful of a tool to use against his arch nemesis. It's unfair really how well it works. Eren flirts. And shamelessly at that, lets his every thought about her bleed into his texts. Eren, 10:17 pm

You know they say Helen was the most beautiful of them all, a queen among women.

Mikasa, 10:17 pm

Ugh please don't tell me that's a quote you used in your paper.

Eren, 10:18 pm

It's not it's just the truth

but i disagree.

Mikasa, 10:18 pm

why?

Eren, 10:18 pm

becuase you exist Miki, and obviously you're the most beautiful.

that's why i need u to come over

I'm working on my paper about the queen of all women and I need my muse 🍆🍆

how am I supposed to discuss her adequately if my girl isn't here?

Is it probably the cheesiest, dumbest thing he's ever written? Yes. Does it work, hook line and sinker? Also yes.

Mikasa doesn't respond for several minutes, but by the time she does, it's with one frisky little demand.

Mikasa, 10:25 pm

where's my uber, asshole?

Eren, 10:25 pm

on the way 😇

Mikasa is supremely pissed off when she walks into a full frat house armed with books on greek tragedies and her laptop, but Eren makes it up to her.

She arrives just in time to be the one to lick the tequila from his abs

"I hate you," she whispers against his neck as she comes up for a lick of salt and Eren smiles brightly, "Queens get to mount their thrones you know Miki, so get ready, you're gonna ride me later." And boy does she ever.

AHH YES ANOTHER POORLY WRITTEN DRABBLE

#fratboy and feminist au #BACK ON MY CHEESY BULLSHIT #lys's drabbles

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astarab1aze · 3 months

Text

✾ We Need to Talk About Senkei

i've mentioned him a few times in private and a few other times on the dash, so i figure it's a good time to talk about this absolute piece of shit. unfairly hot as he is, he's an utterly vile man - so warning for partner abuse, s. assault, manipulation, things like that. nothing graphic. i don't condone any of this and think people like senkei can die repeatedly unto eternity.

Senkei was 27 when they met. Handsome, unbearably so. His hair a strawberry blond with a bright orange tint, medium in length and layered choppily; Bangs hanging in his eyes a little but mostly fly away, disheveled. He appears unkempt, giving him an outwardly childish - and, therefore, approachable - air. His eyes are painfully cold and unbearably blue, framed by shorter, darker lashes than his hair and a nearly invisible hint of irritation. He gives off the impression he can see right through you. He has very few scars, with the most notable one being on the left side of his face, a gash stretching from his hairline toward the corner of his mouth. He has no other markings or tattoos.

When Kaede was about 17, he met a man named Senkei Shinekawa.

He treated him kindly, sweetly, as though he were a person with thoughts, feelings, wants, and needs. So attentive, so comfortable to be around, Kaede was able to come out of his shell, enough to find the courage to sneak around with Senkei, fall in love with him, dream of a life with him. Senkei had him wrapped so tightly around his finger, he never once thought he could do anything untoward, never thought Senkei was capable of cruelty, brutality, or sadism, believing him to be a generous and loving - if inappropriately older - man.

There were no warning signs Kaede could pick up on - he didn't know Senkei was manipulating him, building rapport with him and flirting as though he were any other boy when the truth was the opposite. He was a con man, an opportunist, and a bastard, lying through his teeth about who he was to gain Kaede's affections so he could take a crack at the Shikabane fortune. Many times, he asked for money, whining about his bills in the hopes that Kaede might fork over enough to cover them - but he pocketed it, over time squeezing more and more and more out of him. Tens of thousands of dollars were given to him in the name of, "We're partners, of course I'll help you, Senkei." Oh, and he just kept going, draining him of as much money as he possibly could.

But, one day, Kaede got suspicious, got to asking too many questions. Of course, Senkei blew them off, giving all the same 'I just need help' excuses. 'I haven't been paid yet and rent's due tomorrow,' 'My dog needs surgery, could ya throw me a hundred to make up the difference?' 'I'll pay you back as soon as I can, I promise,' 'I'm so sorry, I know this seems bad, baby, but you came into my life at a rough time for me :(' and so on. So many lies, so many Kaede was willing to let slide because Senkei had been so good to him otherwise - but Senkei wasn't going to let Kaede get away with questioning his authority this time, wasn't going to let him stop the cash flow. He needed more, he needed all of it, and Kaede was going to give it to him if he had to take it by force.

The moment everything really started to change starts below. Skip past both red lines if you wish not to see anything but the rest of the headcanon.

And, then, he remembered a morning run, years later, when dawn had only just broken and streams of orange light stretched across the skyline. He remembered the chill of winter’s air cooling him down just as his natural heat began to teeter on the edge of too high, even for him, and how he sank into a park bench, Senkei laughing as he tried to catch his breath, each one a puff of condensation. He looked at him fondly, those bright, endlessly blue eyes screwed shut as Senkei's chest heaved and his hands clapped to his knees. He sputtered and chuckled, slid into his place beside him on the park bench a little too close and yet, not close enough. Mere inches apart, Kaede was nervous and bashful, fidgeting with the pocket in his sweatpants and avoiding looking at Senkei for too long lest he be too honest, too obvious about how he felt toward him. He liked Senkei, and, at the time, they were dating in secret, slinking around in the shadows away from prying eyes. The media would’ve had a field day, if they knew, and the scandal alone would tarnish both their careers, as abysmally limited and new as Kaede's was given that he was only seventeen.

Senkei was kind and generous, a sweet offering of placidity to temporarily replace the pitiable truth of his life or the grief that so viciously clung to every inch of him, and he was grateful for his company, grateful for the comfort he provided, grateful for the opportunity to at least pretend he was a normal, average person with normal, average problems. In the frigid morning where none at all had stirred just yet, he hazarded an inch closer, his knee bumping against Senkei's, blush darkening his flecked skin, and Senkei himself had done something of his own, throwing an arm around his shoulders and playfully complaining along the way.

“How do you do this every morning? Ahhh, and so early, too!” Then, he leaned his head against Kaede's, sighing a ragged sigh, and a grin would peel across his face, bright, wide, and sickeningly sweet. “Proud o’ ya, though. All this work to be the best hero ya can be…”

Kaede could only sheepishly nod his head, too flustered by the feel of Senkei's proximity, by the warm breath fanning against his cheek.

“Ya know whatcha deserve? A reward!” Senkei announced, his free hand easing over Kaede's thigh and oh-so gently squeezing.

But that so-called reward wasn’t…wasn’t anything anyone deserved.

He remembered Senkei guiding him into a playground. Red slide, blue metal frames, a yellow dome in the shape of a spaceship with only an exit and an entrance and bubble windows. He remembered crossing too many boundaries, kissing in the dark little hovel where no children would play so early in the morning, and the unsettling sneer tweaking Senkei's lips. Hands pushing, pulling, pinching, gripping until tiny bruises would surface and the confusion of pleasure and pain overwhelmed his senses. Senkei mumbled his praises, each compliment becoming less and less complimentary than before until they morphed into raw insults, pure degradation. Kisses from head to toe, tender swipes of his fingers, and then he got on top of Kaede, straddling him, groin to groin, rolling his hips against him. The stimulation made him shiver and moan, but he didn’t rightly understand what was happening, couldn’t fathom the sudden sexual direction their decidedly plain, boring, and sweet relationship had been going.

But those hands wrapped around his throat, fingering fresh bandages, a seemingly sorrowful look on Senkei's face. Alarm bells sounded off in Kaede's head and he quickly took hold of Senkei's wrists, softly begging him not to touch him there, going so far as to try and pull his hands away– But Senkei shook his head and smiled, muttering that he’d nothing at all to fear, that he was hard. Then, much to Kaede's horrified dismay, a steady pressure began to build and build until the air in his lungs had been siphoned off and he could breathe no more, thumbs and fingers digging into his windpipe, his arteries.

“You’re gonna do me a few favors,” and the image of Senkei shattered completely.

He couldn’t do anything more than cry, struggling against Senkei's unyielding grip as his eyes rolled back into his head and–

----

He forced himself to forget all those years ago. He swallowed down his tears and soldiered on through everything just to find an ounce of peace, safety from hands too large, calloused, and filthy for his already battered body to handle. Every moment with Senkei after their second month together was terrifying, confusing, and more sinister than the last. Every morning was spent walking on eggshells, fear that Senkei might pull his hair and strangle him for any perceived sleight no matter how small. Every night was spent praying his neck wouldn’t be littered with hickies and finger-shaped bruises, fear that his body would be bound for hours and left at the mercy of the glint of a knife. Every waking moment was spent praying his blood wouldn’t be splattered across the floor, praying the knife wouldn’t sink into his skin, that he wouldn’t be beaten for failing to follow every order to the letter, that he wouldn’t be folded and tied down in impossible positions and summarily tortured for Senkei's sick amusement–

Senkei did irreparable damage to Kaede, inside and out, mentally and physically. He kept him in a two-year relationship that got progressively worse and worse. He would savagely beat Kaede and use makeup to cover the bruises when he'd send him back to his family estate. He would take advantage of him sexually, performing cruel, even violent sex acts on him without any prior prep or warning, ignoring any pleas for him to stop and taking what he wanted no matter how many times Kaede explicitly revoked consent and cried no. He'd torture him for hours, too. He was exceedingly possessive with him in public and in private, going so far as to take and go through his phone each and every time he saw him. He'd force him to clean to exact specifications and lie about whether he'd met them, then strangle him on the floor for the hell of it -- knowing Kaede was too young and too frightened of him to do anything about it. His family wouldn't have cared, they did all the same things to him after all.

One night, however, the beatings got so bat, Kaede...completely checked out. Receded into the depths of his mind to some illusory safe place, where nothing could harm him, where Senkei couldn't harm him. A bit of delusion to protect himself from the onslaught of abuse he was suffering. When the beating stopped, Senkei had dumped him in a park somewhere in Tokyo, believing to be dead or near death ona ccount of his unresponsiveness and fading heartbeat. A jogger found him and called an ambulance and he was whisked away to a hospital to be treated.

Due to various injuries, trauma, and all, he flushed all memory of Senkei from his mind, but remembered the bits and pieces about his schooling, family, and work life mixed in between. He believed his injuries were caused by his experiences in combat, connecting different dots to fill in the gaps in his memory - and accepting these twistes memories as fact. A year's worth of memory gone, and all he could think to explain it as was, "Well, I've been hurt a lot. Makes sense I've had some head injuries and lost some memory. Oh well, job-related hazard, I guess."

And that was sort of it, the very end of their relationship. Senkei never came around again and Kaede could never again remember him.

The lasting effects, in spite of a lack of memory, are noticeable. He has scars he can't really explain, associating them all with combat despite them being caused by human hands. Sensitivities to judgment, raised hands, rejection, certain insults, certain smells and noises, a dislike for any man with orange hair and a scar on their face for reasons unknown to him, irrational fear of muzzles, water, the dark, playgrounds, and sudden noises or displays of aggression, the hypervigilance, automatic distrust of 90% of everyone he meets-- The propensity toward rough, painful sex, even hypersexuality at times (not just increased libido), the panic attacks, the blackouts, the irrational urge to run away, always and ever trying his best to please anyone he's in a relationship with by any means necessary and the fear they'll hurt and abandon him if he fails even once over something small. His reactive aggression, somewhat unstable emotions, the nightmares, night terrors, and inability to make his wants and needs properly known. His communication skills have suffered immensely, too.

All this in tandem with continued familial abuse.

#➥ Kaede.#abuse /#toxic relationships /#assault /#age gap /

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madame-ellunas-moonlit-readings · 1 year

Text

May 7 - Stranger In A Strange Land

Re Dracula/Dracula Daily

I think from now on I will continue to read Dracula Daily as I listen to Re Dracula. This time it was not a line that was skipped, but 3 paragraphs. It's an understandable thing to skip, just very specific details on the house Dracula wishes to purchase. Honestly, I'm glad they skipped it. I'd rather not listen to them prattle on about the houses walls and the streets it lies on. Reading and Listening are two very different experiences, treating them as such was a good choice. But it is good to know what was missed. Especially as I'm new to the story and would rather not accidentally skip something important.

But I'll go into the missed parts when I get to it, for now, the story.

When Jonathon woke up to find a note from Dracula excusing him from dinner, I couldn't help but wonder how many excuses the man has up his sleeves. They can only go on for so long, surely. It is interesting how the author shows things to be suspicious through absence. Whether it be the Count himself, the lack of mirrors or there being no servants at all. I guess that driver was him then.

Jonathon's finally gathered himself to exploring the place too. First his room, which was filled with precious things centuries old but extremely well-maintained. Is Dracula taking good care of his belongings, or are there some practical uses to his magic? Then out of his rooms to locked doors. And of the first unlocked room he finds is a library which immediately captures him. A man after my own heart.

It is curious how many of those books are English and clearly new. Has the Count been visiting the bookstores. There are some that are clearly new(ish) by the titles.

I'll list some of the books down below, including those mentioned later.

London Directory (now known as the white pages), a telephone system was already well established so he access to both their numbers and addresses

Red & Blue Books (government briefings, if modern terms match), so he's getting a feel for the lay of business and authority too

Whitaker's Almanac (facts, figures and statistics relating to the UK and the world), to help him understand the wider and more minute facts of the world he plans to venture into, I would guess

The Army & Navy Lists (lists of army and navy soldiers)

The Law Lists (I'm not sure, maybe the laws?)

Bradshaw's Guide (railway timetables and travel guides), he was actively reading this one

A marked Atlas open to England (an iffily marked marked, not spooky at all)

It's a bit eery, considering the genre of the story. But not as much as what comes up in their following conversations.

Dracula showed up while Jonathon was browsing and was glad to have found him there. He insists that he doesn't know English fully but would like for Jonathon talk with him more so he can learn. He goes far as to request he picks up any mistake, any off intonation, anything mismatched at all. I guess to better blend in and not get caught in his violence. He himself states that,

But a stranger in a strange land, he is no one; men know him not—and to know not is to care not for.

It contrasts well with how Jonathon was treated by Carpathian citizens on his arrival. How hard they work to send him, and failing that, protecting him.

He goes to say that even still he would be a master, or at least master to none. So he definitely isn't looking to live among them when blending in.

At this point Dracula officially allows Jonathon into any unlocked part of the castle (adventure, anyone?) and moves onto the cultural differences. Considering how he directed Jonathon to his questions of his strange experiences thus far, focussing on the treasure marker blue flames, I'd say he's decided to kick the gaslighting into gear. And even in these explanations the Count has focussed on violent histories and speaking lowly of the citizens here.

His character isn't just shown through disdain and violent interests, but also his strong focus on the house and surrounding areas. He questioned Jonathon on various aspects of the house and location fiercely and had gone into his own research as well, startling him at how much more of the place he knew. Dracula says he obviously must as both Jonathon and his boss, Peter Hawkins, would be in Exeter, miles away.

Dracula is good at saying things that aren't odd or are easily excusable. But when added up, 😬. There was no need for the 'I know where you live' comment, really.

Here's where the podcast skips. In between "So!" and "I am glad that it is old and big".

In the missed bits Dracula signed his lease and other necessary legal documents, and Jonathon got them ready for mailing. Dracula asks how him came across a place so suitable, so Jonathon reads out notes on the place he had found. And yeah, it's suitable all right.

"At Purfleet, on a by-road, I came across just such a place as seemed to be required, and where was displayed a dilapidated notice that the place was for sale. It is surrounded by a high wall, of ancient structure, built of heavy stones, and has not been repaired for a large number of years. The closed gates are of heavy old oak and iron, all eaten with rust.

"The estate is called Carfax, no doubt a corruption of the old Quatre Face, as the house is four-sided, agreeing with the cardinal points of the compass. It contains in all some twenty acres, quite surrounded by the solid stone wall above mentioned. There are many trees on it, which make it in places gloomy, and there is a deep, dark-looking pond or small lake, evidently fed by some springs, as the water is clear and flows away in a fair-sized stream. The house is very large and of all periods back, I should say, to mediæval times, for one part is of stone immensely thick, with only a few windows high up and heavily barred with iron. It looks like part of a keep, and is close to an old chapel or church. I could not enter it, as I had not the key of the door leading to it from the house, but I have taken with my kodak views of it from various points. The house has been added to, but in a very straggling way, and I can only guess at the amount of ground it covers, which must be very great. There are but few houses close at hand, one being a very large house only recently added to and formed into a private lunatic asylum. It is not, however, visible from the grounds."

I agree with Dracula. How did he come across a place so well suited to him? I'll leave a link on what a Carfax is down below.

But this is where we get back to the podcast.

Jonathon's observational skills are serving him well. Dracula goes on about how he is old and weary and likes the shadows and time to to myself, but to Jonathon his expression doesn't match at all. To him his smile seemed "malignant and saturnine", meaning malevolent and gloomy. Even worse, when Dracula left and Jonathon piled together his papers, he found an Atlas opened to a map of England. It was marked up with circles at the east side of London, on Exeter (the area where he and his boss lives, very creepy, very ominous) and on Whitby on the Yorkshire Coast.

Seriously, just run.

When Dracula comes back to chat until the rooster crowed, his instincts kicked back into gear as well. I get that you feel "under obligation to meet my host's wishes in every way", but kick that duty or social anxiety out of the way and leave. Even you thought the chill you were feeling was something reminiscent to turning of tides when one meets death. Listen to your instincts and just go already.

At least he was able to rest after after this journal entry. Probably. But we can definitely see the Count testing more and more of his bounds, slowly pushing Jonathon into a corner.

It was another good chapter.

My thanks to Re Dracula and Dracula Daily.

#madame ellunas moonlit readings #re dracula #dracula daily #may 7 #stranger in a strange land #reactions #read along #spotify #podcast #Spotify

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skellebonez · 3 years

Note

You write Tang and Red's dynamic so well! Could I ask for more Tang being a wholesome dad to Red with 7 please?

Tang and TLT Red are really interesting to write like this, I could write 500 prompts of them interacting! I decided to go slightly farther back in the timeline for this one. Like. VERY far back in the timeline. So far back this is how Tang decided he was dad now back.

I am apparently incapable of not writing things that are nearly full length fics right now. This is as long as a chapter of SFAUT.

“Do you need anything else?”

The new routine... or was it a habit? Both? Whatever it was,Tang had decided it was alright, despite the fact it had first started out of a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. How could it not have, with one of the first and most stubbornly determined enemies that had been fighting MK showed up at Pigsy’s Noodle’s after hours with two Bull Clones holding onto the side of his truck, haphazardly packed with boxes they could see through the windows and holding an injured arm?

“As of 6 hours ago I am no longer assisting my parents” was the explanation Red Son had given, short and to the point, when they had all raised their weapons (makeshift in the case of himself and Pigsy) at the sight. No one had believed him at the time, but apparently something made MK stop the demon when he made to leave without another word.

----------

“What do you mean? Why the boxes?” MK asked, gripping onto the back of the demon’s coat. He let go and shrunk his staff when he tugged at it and Red Son took in a sharp breathe of pain. Clearly he didn’t think Red Son was a threat with his injury, “What happened to your arm?”

“My shoulder was dislocated,” Red Son explained in shocking honesty at the last question, turning to look at the group once again in only slight hesitation. Tang realized that he looked... tired. His eyes were red and irritated, it reminded him of how MK’s eyes looked when Pigsy first taught him how to cook and he got a face full of hot broth steam in them. “There was a... complication with some demons that wished to do business with my parents. They have been dealt with.” Tang did not miss how MK’s eyes widened in realization. He must have known was Red was referring to.

“Shouldn’t that be in a sling?” Tang asked without thinking, earning a tight glare from Pigsy and Mei as he lowered the bowl he was brandishing back to the countertop. “What? It’s what you’re supposed to do!” Something was... off. Tang didn’t know what, but something didn’t feel right about this. And not in a ‘this is secretly a trap’ kind of way.

Red Son looked at him oddly, then back down as the arm he cradled in his uninjured one before addressing MK again with an aggravated sigh. “I supposed you’ll find out eventually, you’re persistent like that. I have a... safe house, I suppose you’d call it, hidden away in the mountains far outside the city. Not even my parents know about it. I’m going to stay there. I suppose you could consider me defected to your side from now on, should a large enough problem arise.”

“Did something happen with your parents?” Tang asked, taking a step forward with a raised eyebrow and ignoring the yells of “what are you doin have you lost your marbles!?” from Pigsy and the shocked look from Mei.

The odd look was back on Red’s face, mixed with surprise and anger this time. “NO.”

“Because people usually don’t run off to a safe house their family doesn’t know about and defect to the other side of a conflict unless something happened.” Tang emphasized each of the most important parts of his accusation carefully, hoping that at least MK would pick up on what he was hinting at. The silence behind him told him Pigsy seemed to. “Especially with not a truck packed with what looks like everything they own, and double especially when they take the time to stop to visit someone they hate to tell them goodbye.”

“It-!” Red started to snap, a shaky sigh leaving him as he calmed himself. “It’s none of your concern.”

“Did your parents hurt you?” MK asked softly, a smattering of horror under-toning his words and tang could head Mei choke back a noise behind them. It wasn’t an angry one, and definitely wasn’t happy. Pigsy remained quiet.

“NO!” Red snapped with his hair ablaze as he turned back to MK, hissing in pain as he jostled his arm. “They wouldn’t-! They-! Not... not like that.” His temper and and hair and voice fizzled out like someone dumping a bucket of water on a campfire and Tang did not miss the implications of those words, whether Red had meant to let them slip past or not.

“You need medical attention,” Tang stated, putting his hand on Red Son’s good shoulder gently. Red Son tensed under his touch. “I cannot in good conscious let you leave without that at least, especially not if you’re telling the truth about not fighting us anymore.”

“Why?” Red asked, odd look back. Tang realized it was confusion. “I know I just said I’m not your enemy, but why are you offering to help me?”

“Because I want to.”

----------

Exactly WHY that managed to work, Tang still didn’t know. But for some reason his words seemed to have struck a chord with Red Son and he agreed to have his Bull Clone driver follow them (them being MK, Mei, and Tang as Pigsy still had to manage the Noodle Shop) to the secret base (or the Sea-Crate HQ) at Sandy’s.

Sandy was shockingly understanding, welcoming him onto his boat for treatment with just the barest explanation. It probably helped that half of Sandy’s cats immediately flocked to the fire demon to run against his legs and his only reaction to them was a hesitant look down as he tried not to step on them.

Red was unusually quiet the entire time, as if he was trying to understand what exactly was happening around him. Mei tried to make snide remarks to get a rise out of him, to just growls and glowers. MK tried to talk to him about anything, mostly Monkey King related questions, but again he got the same reaction. Mei eventually changed her tactic to talking about tech and that got at least some responses from Red. Eventually they just watched as Sandy patched the demon up and all of his cats piled on top of him to the confusion and amusement to everyone.

It wasn’t until Sandy had properly patched Red up that Tang suggested he just stay at the base for the night instead of heading out that everyone not named Red Son seemed to realize what Tang’s real plan was.

Keep Red Son close just in case. Tang did not think Red was lying, not in the slightest. He was acting too off for this to be an act. But he knew that not everyone on Team MK would agree with him. After all, it was easier to keep an eye on your enemy if he was right next to you. But Tang did not think he was lying. Tang thought he needed help.

He seemed at least somewhat impressed by the base but didn’t really say much. Sandy had brought up the important question of “what if DBK and PIF find out you are here?”, to which Red explained that if they discovered he was there they wouldn’t just storm the place and drag him home given demon customs and the like. Using the safe house instead of his penthouse (and wasn’t it a trip to learn he had a penthouse) was more for him to not have to deal with their attempts for as long as possible.

MK and Mei had jokingly told him he owed them for letting him stay and while their reaction to him agreeing to pay them back whatever they liked was amusing, it made Tang wonder exactly what kind of situations Red Son was used to. Where he would have to pay everything done for him back. He seemed to accept their rebuttal that he just needed to promise not to light anything on fire easily enough.

“Do you need anything else?” was his final question to Red before they left him be, trusting the security system and Sandy (and the ocean) to handle anything that may come up. He placed a hesitant hand on Red’s head, something he did for MK and something he hoped would not offend Red Son. He felt the heat of the fire that would flare up his hair. He could feel it fluctuate, heating and cooling and heating again in response to something. Fascination couldn’t be erased from Tang’s face.

Red looked at him with that odd confused look again and said. “No... but... thank you?”

Red Son announced in the morning that he would be staying and would join Team MK.

----------

“Do you need anything else?” Tang asked, placing his hand on Red’s head. This had become... something. Something he just did whenever he could. A way to gauge how Red was feeling and a way to show him he trusted him given how easily his hair flared up. As well as a way to show he did care. They ended the day the same way every time, the question and the gesture one after the other.

“No, but thank you,” was the reflexive response from the fire demon. It was said so much easier now, so much more honestly. Sometimes he would answer with an affirmative, long ago hesitant but now just as easy as saying the sky was blue.

Tang couldn’t have been more proud of Red Son. He was still the proud and loud and showoff-y and fiery tempered demon he always was, but he was also trying to show he wanted to change. Wanted to be a hero now. Red was still unsure of a lot, but he seemed to be molding himself into the entire team well. Even Pigsy had quickly taken a shine to him after he offered to fix his kitchen appliances!

Tang also did not miss how he was starting to forget to call him Mr. Tang now, at very rare times. Whether it was because of MK calling him something else or just how Red Son felt, the scholar wasn’t sure. But hearing Red Son stop and correct himself with a “thanks d-MR. tANG!” was also something. Tang had decided that was alright as well.

DBK, on the other hand, didn’t seem to think it was given his reaction in that last fight when that happened. But Tang couldn’t rightly care what he had to say about it.

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nnatsume · 2 years

Note

I loved the post of the doting s/o with Ritsu and Eichi ♡ Could I request the same but with Tsukasa and Shu please?

a / n: i’m happy that you liked them!! i got so excited when i saw shu in my inbox lmmao it's my first time writing for him!! i flipped them again so i could write him first hehehehehhehe angry pink man go brrrr (some of his lines are so sweet. looks at easter night)

↳ previously: eichi & ritsu

✦ – shu & tsukasa with a doting s/o !

preposterous! how improper—he ought to teach you some manners. when you try to dote on shu you have to prepare for him to toss around such words. worry not, they’re empty words—and if you know him well, you know that he’s asking for more. only reluctantly will he let himself fall into your care. but when he does, he falls deeply.

there’s something about your nature that makes him lower his guard—you’re so warm to him, you feel very different from other people. he tries to suppress those feelings towards you, not wanting to acknowledge the way you make his heart feel so weak, but that can’t hold forever. the want for your care and validation grows stronger—and while shu doesn’t say anything, mademoiselle has some nice words for you!

he appreciates your words more than anything. when you compliment his works, even if it’s just a little detail—a row of frills, a pin, a button—it makes it feel.. special. shu often seeks out your opinions on his works because of that—but don’t you get anything wrong! he just wants a second pair of eyes, that’s all. you know well that that’s not the case when his ears grow red.

to repay you for your kind affections, he does what he does best. if he can’t pay you back with his touch, he’ll pay you back in silk and velvet.

“stay still this time.”, he whispered, wrapping the measuring band around your torso.

his precision in his art was admirable and the way he kept trying again was endearing—but you’ve been standing in the middle of the room for about half an hour. the heels of your shoes dug into your feet. “how much longer? my legs are starting to numb..”

you heard him scoff behind you. the measuring band slipped down from under your shoulders, a hand gently pushing you forward. “why didn’t you say anything, you… we’ll continue later. sit down, i’ll work out what we have.”, he spoke. the difference between his tone and the feather touch of his fingers makes you smile.

he seems to notice his mistake, and quickly tries to make an excuse. you read him like a book. “your muscles will tense and the measurements will be off. that’ll cost fabric in the end. don’t think anything.”

“sure, shu.. sure.”

he’s a very busy man—and it’s tiring. perfection comes with a cost. in those moments you may find him more outwardly accepting of your love. he leans into you without a word, to rest in your arms—he trusts you not to take advantage of his vulnerability. he likes your embrace, truly—it makes him feel safe. he seeks you out himself for that reason, but will never say it. your touch makes him feel lighter.

there’s moments where he can be very harsh to you, but he feels guilty and always apologizes. your approach makes him feel a lot of things at once, some things he can’t define, and that scares him. the way you brush your fingers through his hair so tenderly, hold his hand in yours so carefully—his throat is stuffed with cotton and petals and softness. just what have you done to him?

shu has his little secret codes—the way you decipher him amazes him. he appreciates your abilities—what more can he ask for? the smile on his face may often go unnoticed, as he hides from your sight in the crook of your shoulder. someone that loves him for who he is and doesn’t back down despite the harsh winds, treating him with kindness with all of his flaws–aren’t you simply perfect?

tsukasa goes red in the face the moment you throw any kind of affection his way. it’s not unwelcome or anything, and it’s not uncommon for him to be coddled a bit, but when you do it, it makes him feel like his head is starting to smoke. oftentimes he rushes off to cool down, saying that he has something to do. sure, tsukasa, sure you do.

he often tries to impress you—will you give him more love? it’s like he’s addicted to your kind words and your soothing touch. he’ll seek you out after practices or performances, shyly asking you if he did well. when you tell him he did, his eyes sparkle with happiness. his ears blend into his hair perfectly as he thanks you. arashi’s quiet swooning behind the curtains can be heard every time.

tsukasa feels like a heater when he leans into your hugs. he always needs some extra encouragement from the others to fall into your embrace—but when he does, he doesn’t want to let go anymore. he holds on to you like a koala. it goes against his polite and respectful image—when that reminder comes back to him, he’s quick to detach and dismiss himself. but don’t you worry, he’ll be back in a minute.

he really can’t find anything of similar worth to your kindness—so he does his best to help you out whenever you’re in need. he’ll be your little knight, always coming to your aid even when it’s such little things as dropping your pen—tsukasa will dive towards the floor to pick it up before you even process it.

“tsukasa.. i can carry my own, you know?”, you laughed sheepishly.

he adjusted the books in his arms. the stack nearly reached up to his throat—your books, your papers, and then his own stuff on top. “there is no problem. i can carry them, too.”, he assured with a huff, “your back will hurt if you take so many things, and you can trip and fall easily and get hurt very badly. that worries me, so i will carry them for you.”

“.. you know that the same counts for you, don’t you?”, you tilted your head his way. and he looked away.

he looked cornered. you saw the touch of roses blooming on his cheeks again, from the little of his face that you could see. “i.. i appreciate your concern. but you don’t have to worry. i will.. i will be alright.”

the stammer in his voice made your heart fill. when he turned back to you, you appreciated his effort to look confident—he looked like he dipped his head in a bucket of paint. you couldn’t hold back a laugh—tsukasa looked mortified. the entire way to the classroom, he didn’t speak a word.

he gets used to it after a while, growing a bit more confident in his approaches—but they don’t make him feel any less than before. his heart still speeds up every time, his chest still feels like it’s filled with feathers, he’s simply better at containing himself. your praise especially makes him feel like he’s in heaven. he feels so giddy—he tries to contain it, but you can see the way he moves with so much more energy. indulge him a bit, will you?

he’s also really busy, so he likely won’t have too much time to let you coddle him, but he always tries to make some space for it. be it in the breaks between your classes or late into the night, tsukasa is always up for you to spoil him. he prepares ahead of it—fluffing up his hair, wearing perfume. anything to make himself more hold-able for you. he’s a bit childish like that sometimes.

whenever he gets the chance, he always makes sure to thank you for your love and your kindness. he promises that he’ll pay you back tenfold in the future. such things shouldn’t go unappreciated—no matter how many times you tell him that it’s nothing to thank you for, he insists, taking you on pretty dates, getting you all the pretty things. he’ll be your knight—a spoiled brat of a knight that's always stuck to your side.

#📖.my writing #enstars #ensemble stars #shu itsuki #shu itsuki x reader #tsukasa suou #tsukasa suou x reader #enstars x reader #ensemble stars x reader

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tarydarrington · 3 years

Text

Essek doesn’t remember much of their introduction, this time around. He had arrived at Caleb’s home in the early afternoon for their scheduled research. They had exchanged pleasantries. Caleb had pulled him into a hug, as he always does these days, and the two of them had made their way to the tower. There might have been more - conversation, witty barbs thrown around between friends, and the like - but all of it had left his mind the moment he saw the corner.

Caleb had seen the questioning look on his face, and a flush had tinted his face as he informed Essek that he has a date, tonight. Then they had settled in with their books, as though everything were perfectly normal and there was not a fist around Essek’s heart.

His eyes scan over the same sentence for a tenth time. It shouldn’t bother him. Caleb is free to seek out partnership wherever he wishes. Certainly, there are many better-suited than… well, there are people who would suit him well. People who are not so shy of touch, who have no tangled past to trip them up, who are lucky enough to see him every day.

It’s only that Essek had let himself start to believe that maybe...

It doesn’t matter. He swallows it down.

Caleb has a date. That is perfectly acceptable. There is absolutely no logical reason why Caleb should not have a date. He is uniquely brilliant and talented, impossibly kind-hearted, utterly endearing, more handsome than anyone Essek has ever-- stop. He is an impressive man, is the point, and certainly no one could be around him for long without noticing.

It looks… Something aches in Essek’s chest. He had never courted during his time in Rosohna, but from time to time, he had born witness to the habits of others. Always, their meetings had seemed extravagant, grand, gaudy - as though the whole of the city might stumble in and judge them unworthy. This little corner of the library is a far cry from any of that.

Two cushioned armchairs have been pressed close to a little, round table. A deep red tablecloth rests atop it, and a set of amber-colored candles wait unlit in the center. Their varying heights remind him of his towers, and the hollow pang in his chest at the thought has him retreating back to his book.

He doesn’t make it more than two lines before his thoughts begin to drift again. It looks so… intimate. Everything Caleb has set out, save the decorations, had already lived in this room. Essek has curled up in those armchairs on many a night, as he waited for Caleb to finish his sleep. He has piled books on that table, caught up with Caleb in the rush of research.

And it’s all so close. So neatly tucked into that little alcove, cozy enough that two people could whisper and still be heard. He knows because he and Caleb have sat propped against the bookshelves there, tossing ideas back and forth. That area is where he keeps their own books: the ones he and Essek have filled together, the ones full of research notes and new spell ideas. Perhaps he’s planning on pulling one out to impress… whoever it is.

Essek feels a bit sick. Man? Woman? Neither? Both? Are they a fellow professor, or a merchant, or an adventurer? Something else entirely? He wishes Jester were here to pry for him. He wishes he didn’t want to know.

Whoever they are, he thinks as he steals a glance back at the alcove, they had better treat him properly. They had better give him everything.

From the corner of his eye, Essek sees Caleb’s eyes flick up to watch him. He looks away hastily, but the way his face softens tells him Caleb has seen him looking.

“What do you think of all that?” he asks with a nod toward the corner.

What does he think?

If Caleb had been trying to design this evening for him, he couldn’t have done better. A small, foolish part of Essek can’t help but wonder if he had been trying to design it for him - but he digs one sharp tooth into the inside of his lip to chase the thought away.

“It is… “ It shouldn’t hurt like this. He has no right to let it hurt like this. “I cannot imagine anything more lovely,” he says truthfully. “I certainly hope your… companion agrees.”

A small smile pulls at Caleb’s lips, and Essek’s heart aches with the hint of fondness in it, as though he’s imagining impressing his mysterious partner this way. “Ja, well, I am hoping my companion will be willing to join me for it,” he says, and his gaze drops back down to his book.

Essek quirks an eyebrow in question, but Caleb doesn’t look back. He’s gone to the trouble of setting all this up, and he still hasn’t so much as asked? But Caleb doesn’t offer any further insight on the topic, and it is most certainly not Essek’s place to ask; so, with what he hopes is not an audible sigh, he tucks back into his book.

Mercifully, the topic is interesting. For the last several months, he and Caleb have been exchanging notes on a more wide-reaching version of Programmed Illusion, and Essek has always been at his best when playing with new magic. The two of them settle into their usual rhythm, the thought of the corner table only nagging at the back of his mind from time to time, and while away the hours together.

It's already half past nine when Essek realizes just how caught up he's become. With a sigh, Essek replaces his book on the table and rises.

“I apologize. I lost track of time.” But Caleb couldn’t have, could he? “I should let you go.”

Caleb's eyes flick up from his reading, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. "There is no hurry, friend," he says.

He stands, as well, as Essek begins to float toward the tower's central cylinder. Truly, he doesn't look rushed in the least. But for once, Essek would very much like to be out of his home quickly, with as little time as possible spent in eyeshot of that perfect, little corner.

“You have someone to meet, do you not?” he prompts. He’s lucky to have had so much practice keeping his face calmly polite.

Caleb smiles, a taut and fragile thing. “Well, no,” he says, “not exactly. Just something to ask.” He clears his throat. With a strange, new nervousness about him, he clasps both hands in front of him and straightens his spine. “So,” he says, inclining his head towards Essek. “Essek Thelyss. Would you care to join me for dinner, tonight?”

Months later, with a smile equal parts smug and fond, Caleb will use Seeming to recreate the way Essek’s face contorts itself before he schools it back under control.

“I--” he attempts. The shade his face must be. “That would, ah…” He is an idiot. An idiot who can’t even find his words, an idiot for whom Caleb-- for whom all this has been planned, and-- “I would be…”

Caleb’s smile softens, and he holds one hand out between them. Essek numbly, slowly, carefully reaches out to take it.

As soon as their hands touch, the lights in the library gutter out, and the candles on the table wink to life. Above, a web of amber stars and constellations spiders its way across the ceiling. The sky above Rosohna. Just where everything would be from his towers, on this day, at this time. That fist around his heart is back, but for an entirely different reason. He had been wrong. There had been a way to make it more perfect, after all.

Essek doesn’t realize he’s staring until Caleb leans in close and murmurs with an audible grin, “I may have figured out that spell a bit earlier than anticipated.”

His only answer is a breath of incredulous laughter and a look that he’s sure is entirely too moon-eyed to be dignified. Under the circumstances, he can’t bring himself to care overmuch. In any case, Caleb seems to appreciate it; the smile on his face is worth just about any amount of indignity, as is the rush as he twines their hands tighter together and leads Essek towards the alcove.

Perhaps there are a dozen or a hundred or a thousand people better suited - or perhaps there are not, he thinks as he settles in between the books they’ve filled together. Perhaps, he thinks fleetingly as a shooting star above catches his eye, he will have to spend some time studying the sky above Blumenthal. He’ll certainly have to finish that spell.

#have something incredibly self indulgent #the very end of this is probably the most outright fluffy thing i've ever posted #shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #mine #mine:fic #essek #caleb #critical role

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criminalmindzjunkie · 3 years

Text

The More Loving One

Masterlist

Summary: Professor Reid finds himself falling for a student.

A/N: This fic is based on this request. I changed a few things up, but I hope you like the finished product!

Long time, no see! It seems like forever since I got to sit down and just enjoy writing something. And enjoy this, I did. I approached this one a bit differently than I usually do, but I like how it turned out none the less. I hope you all enjoy my take on the Professor Reid arc. The first poem I use in this fic is titled The More Loving One by W.H. Auden, and the second is from a collection of Perry poetry.

Also, I recently hit 2k followers, which is absolutely unbelievable. I can’t even begin to explain how thankful I am for each and every one of you. This fic is my love letter to you. Thank you all so much.

Pairing: Professor!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: a few swear words maybe?, teacher x student relationship, age gap, exhibitionism (sorta?), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex

Word Count: 4k

For as long as Spencer can remember, he’s always had a predilection for the finer things in life.

Spencer attributes the origin of his preferences to his upbringing. In his childhood, before his mother’s disease got the better of her, she exposed him to all sorts of literature. While he ventured to read all types of writings, he’d always been partial to tales of extravagance. A young Spencer Reid sought refuge in the profligacy of it all, as it was so starkly different from his own reality. Forced to bear the burden of household and a sick mother from an early age, Spencer’s own life left little room for reckless indulgence.

Now, as a single adult male, Spencer makes it a point to give himself up to the finer things as often as he can. Spencer isn’t a rich man, nor is he careless with what hard-earned money he does have. He simply likes to treat himself to the occasional five-star meal, and even more frequently, posh clothing and rare books. Walls lined with hundreds of antiquarian novels and a closet full of Comme Des Garçon cardigans are where the indulgence ends, however, and until recently Spencer was content with this.

But when she strolls into his life on the very first day of his teaching career, Spencer knows that his small luxuries will no longer be enough to keep him satisfied. The part of him that longs to have only the very best roars to life as he takes in every perfect inch of her. She stands before him, the embodiment of divinity and grace, looking like every fantasy he only dares to conjure up in the late hours of the night. A litany of cliches from every piece of romantic literature he’s ever read spring to the forefront of his mind in the instant that her eyes met his, but there is nothing stereotypical about the way her gaze banishes the air from his lungs. It is as jarring as it is intoxicating. He never wants to look away.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t feel the same. With a light flush of her cheeks, she turns away from him, and in an equally unfortunate turn of events, she proceeds to shuffle down the aisle and into the second row of seats to the right of the podium. The realization that washes over him feels like ice water in his veins.

She’s a student. Worse even – she’s his student.

Spencer wrenches his gaze from her as if he’s been burned, and the fiery shame of his embarrassment makes him tug at his collar. As he struggles to stave away the lingering heat in his chest and even more embarrassingly, the tightness in his trousers, Spencer chastises himself. His own carnal urges often go ignored, a fact that is glaringly obvious as he cowers behind his podium in an attempt to hide his arousal. He feels more than a little bit pathetic. No self-respecting thirty-five-year-old man gets hard just from gazing upon a beautiful young woman.

When Spencer pulls himself together enough to start his lecture, he positively forbids himself to look her way. It is hard to fight the urge, but every time he catches his eyes wandering to her, he reminds himself that she is an indulgence he simply cannot partake in. No matter how badly he wants to.

It doesn’t take long for her to notice him noticing her.

In the early days of the semester, she manages to convince herself that the stolen glances are but a figment of her overactive imagination. That, or an unhealthy dose of wishful thinking. But as the semester stretches on and the professor’s eyes linger more and more, wishful thinking gives way to a startling realization that she isn’t alone in her attraction. Professor Reid is, to her complete and utter astonishment, just as taken with her as she is with him.

This is all but confirmed when a slight brushing of the hands during an exchange of papers leaves them both with flushed cheeks and pounding hearts. Both of their heads snap up, two sets of eyes meeting in a prolonged stare that results in an understanding of sorts. It’s mutual, this thing blossoming between them. She can see her own hopes reflected in two velvet pools of brown – can see the longing, the desire that burns within them. Her heart soars, as she imagines his does, and she accepts the papers with a smile.

She also imagines that, if he could, he would tell her to wait for him. He would tell her that, for now, their relationship must stay strictly professional.

This doesn’t stop them from sating their cravings in other ways.

She makes it a point to stop by during office hours at least twice a week. Her visits always fall under the guise of her studies, but within minutes their hushed conversations stray from the professional and towards a more personal nature. She learns of Spencer’s mother and her condition, of his unusual job and his coworkers that were more like family. In return, she tells him about her upbringing in southern California, as well as her dreams of becoming a criminal psychologist. They never go as far as to discuss what will happen when the semester comes to a close. It is an unspoken agreement that the end of the semester will find them in each other’s arms. All they have to do is wait.

Spencer can’t voice his affections with words, but he more than makes up for this with his actions. Without fail, every Monday following the very first clandestine brushing of hands, lavish bouquets of flowers arrive at her workplace. Each bouquet is always paired with a notecard inscribed with a brief explanation of the meaning behind that week’s flower of choice. Cherry blossoms to pay homage to her beauty, plumeria to symbolize their new beginning, agrimony to convey his thankfulness that she is willing to wait for him.

Her favorite bouquet arrives four weeks before the end of the semester. As she steps through the doors of the bakery, a vase full of nine red roses sits atop the counter. The sight of them nearly takes her breath away. She pauses for a moment and runs her fingertips across the velveteen petals before plucking the notecard from its place.

This week, Spencer chooses to forgo the explanation in favor of a messily scrawled poem;

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well

that, for all they care, I can go to hell,

But on earth indifference is the least

we have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn

with a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

let the more loving one be me.

That evening, Spencer receives his first bouquet from her. On his desk sits an arrangement of pale pink ambrosia.

The meaning isn’t lost on him, but if it were, the note that sits next to the vase makes her intentions clear.

We never had to force love.

We were drowning in it from the moment we met.

Spencer is horribly frustrated.

A mere twenty feet away from where he stands, the notoriously garish and wholly unprofessional PhD program director is gesticulating wildly to the young woman that stands trapped between him and the hors d’oeuvre table. To find Professor Van Wesep in such a position is not uncommon, due to his penchant for trying to charm (terrorize) the prospective female doctoral candidates. The man is practically a walking harassment complaint waiting to happen. Spencer would abhor Van Wesep even if he weren’t the only thing standing in the way of him and his lover.

At long last, the semester has drawn to a close. The lonely nights spent longing to hold her in his arms are a thing of the past. By the time the sun rises again, Spencer will no longer have to wonder what her body will feel like pressed against his. He’ll be thoroughly acquainted with every inch of her, and she with him. The thought sends a thrilled chill down his spine.

The torturous foreplay they’ve been engaging in for the last four months would have surely broken a lesser man. Spencer would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted on more than one occasion to have her during one of her frequent visits to his office. Some days, when her visits came later in the evenings, just as the sun began to dip low in the sky, her eyes would glisten in such a way that told Spencer her thoughts were none dissimilar to his own. That glimmer of lust had him holding on to his restraint by the skin of his teeth.

And here they were, on the last evening of the semester. Final grades had been submitted and were released hours prior. Spencer would have been content to skip this event altogether, in favor of more… recreational activities, but his lover insisted on attending.

Initially, Spencer assumed her insistence lay in her desire to mingle with her future peers and mentors. Her true intentions come to light when she breezes into the room clad in a pair of sleek, designer pumps. Her lips, painted fire engine red, curl up into a playful smile at the sight of a slack-jawed Spencer Reid. The devious glint in her eye twinkles sinfully in the light.

Tonight isn’t a social call at all. Tonight, she wants to play with him.

And play she has.

From the second she arrives all eyes are fixating on her celestial beauty. Peers and mentors alike trip over themselves in their haste to capture her attention, if only for a fleeting moment. She works the room flawlessly, leaving a trail of smitten men of all ages in her wake.

The most smitten is Spencer himself, because he’s the lone recipient of countless heated glances, as well as more than a few knowing smirks. She well aware of what she’s doing to him, and she takes pleasure in watching him squirm.

Spencer intervenes when Van Wesep makes the ill-advised decision to reach a hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. He barely has the time to withdraw his hand before Spencer is upon them.

“I apologize for the interruption,” Spencer casts a faux apologetic glance at his colleague, before settling his gaze on his target. “Ms. Y/L/N, may I speak to you for a moment?”

She looks positively gleeful. Perhaps Spencer should have intervened hours ago.

“Absolutely, Professor Reid.”

The honorific sends a jolt of heat straight to his groin. He definitely should have stolen her away earlier.

The two of them say their goodbyes to a confused Professor Van Wesep, whose imploring eyes follow them as they hurriedly slip from the party and down the hallway.

“Where are we going?”

Spencer leads her down a long corridor, far beyond earshot of the other guests. Pushing her into a dark corner, he positions her between himself and the cold wooden door of an unoccupied office. The only sounds that can be heard are the distant thrum of the music and the eager pants falling from his lover’s lips.

Spencer pulls her into a searing kiss, one hand tangling in her hair and the other finding purchase on her waist. He worries for a moment that he’s being too rough with her, that he should have taken a more careful approach to their first kiss, but she assuages those worries when she kisses him back with equal enthusiasm. Her hand reaches between them and clutches his tie, then she’s pulling him closer and whining wantonly against his lips. Spencer takes this as an invitation to slip his tongue inside and he finds himself letting out a low groan when he tastes a hint of strawberry.

Spencer pulls away to catch his breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Oh, I think I do, Professor,” she laughs, breathless. “Probably just as long as I’ve wanted to do this.”

Spencer jolts forward when her hand slides down to cup him over his trousers.

“Could’ve done that a lot earlier if you hadn’t insisted on teasing me for the entire night,” Spencer growls through gritted teeth. He’s more than a little proud of his ability to string together a sentence with her hand working him over with slow, steady strokes.

He trails a line of kisses across the underside of her jaw, before taking her earlobe and nipping it lightly with his canine. Spencer’s actions are rewarded with a full body shudder. He dips his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat and her hands ball into fists against his dress shirt.

“Spencer, please.”

Spencer hums and pulls back to look at her. The hand in her hair lowers, and he trails a thumb across where her nipples are hard against the fabric of her dress.

“Yes, my love?”

Her eyes flutter against the weight of her arousal, and Spencer twitches in his pants. The sight of her with her hair disheveled and her lipstick smeared on account of him is a heavenly thing. He doesn’t know how he ever deprived himself of such a splendor.

“I want you. Right now.” She punctuates her words by pulling him down into a frenzied kiss. One of her hands tangles itself in the hair at the nape of his neck while the other busies with tugging his shirt out of his pants.

“Right now?” Spencer taunts, mouth against mouth. His hand trails down the side of her breast, caressing her rib cage and her hip before stopping at her upper thigh. Spencer’s fingertips toy with the tops of her lace thigh highs. “But anyone could walk by and see us.”

“I don’t care,” she argues, fumbling clumsily as she struggles to undo his belt buckle.

Spencer’s wandering hand dips below the hem of her dress to explore the silky-smooth skin of her inner thigh. She’s soft here, too, he thinks to himself as his hand travels up, up, up. He stops just short of where she wants him most and she lets out a despairing cry.

“You wouldn’t mind someone walking by and seeing you with your pretty legs spread wide for your professor?”

Spencer brings life to his words by lifting her leg up, hitching her thigh around his hip and pressing into her. The silk fabric of her dress rustles as he pushes it up and out of the way.

A breathy moan tumbles from her lips as he rocks against her, dragging his arousal up and down the front of her lace panties. The friction is maddening in that it provides only the smallest bit of relief. It’s not enough for Spencer, and judging by the way she desperately pushes down the fabric of his pants, it’s not enough for his partner, either.

“Need to get these off now,” she murmurs against Spencer’s mouth. An eager hand tugs at the elastic band of his underwear.

Spencer places his hand on hers, stilling her movements. “Not so fast, baby. Gotta make sure you’re ready for me first.”

Her fingers clamp down on Spencer’s wrist, guiding him to the sodden lace between her thighs.

“Don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” she whimpers as Spencer’s fingers take appraisal of the drenched cloth. “In fact, I think four months of foreplay is sufficient enough. Wouldn’t you say?”

“Maybe so,” Spencer muses, voice muffled as he sucks at the skin of her neck. “But I’m not willing to chance hurting you our first time together. You’re entirely too precious to me.”

Spencer captures her lips in a kiss so sweet it has her sighing into his mouth. When he pulls away, he fixes her with a smile.

“You’re not particularly fond of these panties, are you?”

Her eyebrows pull together. “No, why?”

Spencer pulls at the flimsy fabric harshly and it gives way under the force of it. He reaches back to stuff the thong in his back pocket.

“That’s why.”

Spencer’s lips come down against hers at the same time his middle and index fingers drag across her slickness. His foresight pays off when his mouth muffles the sound of her cries. As confident he is that they won’t be found, a cry like that would certainly have drawn unwanted attention.

The swipe of his thumb across her crest paired with the gentle pressure of his fingers dipping into her heat is enough to make her legs buckle. Had it not been for Spencer pressing her against the wall, she surely would have fallen to the ground in a trembling heap.

“I could get lost in you for hours,” Spencer groans, curling his fingers inside her in such a way that makes her clutch desperately to his shirt.

“Spencer, oh my God,” she keens. “I need you, please.”

“You have me, my love,” Spencer whispers the promise against her parted lips. “You’ve had me since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

Spencer speeds up the onslaught of his fingers until the telltale tightening of her heat warns him of her impending climax. He has to bite down on his lower lip to regain his own composure. The feeling of her tight and wet around his fingers is almost too good.

“Spencer, I’m getting close,” she whimpers.

Spencer continues until she’s on the cusp of tumbling over the edge, until one more pass of his fingers against her crest would surely seal the deal, and then he’s removing his hand and taking a step back.

“Spencer, what the fu-,” she pauses when he promptly shoves his pants and underwear just enough to free himself from their painful confines. “Oh.”

A dazed smile makes its way to her face as Spencer presses himself against her once more. He sweeps her up into a kiss comprised of pure, unadulterated desire, before pulling away and smirking deviously at her.

“Jump.”

It takes a moment for her pleasure fogged brain to make sense of the request, but as soon as it does, she complies without question.

Spencer’s hands grip her thighs firmly and in one swift thrust he sheaths himself into her fully – an indulgence so grand that all others dull in comparison. Now that he’s had the finest, felt it wrapped around him like warm velvet, he can’t imagine a world in which he must live without it.

“Spencer!”

Spencer swears he’s never heard a sweeter sound than her crying out his name as their bodies come together for the first time. It’s synonymous with a siren call, he thinks, because in that moment she could lure him to certain death and he knows he would go with a smile.

His lips seek purchase on the exposed skin of her chest as he buries himself in her paradise again and again. The sharp sting of her heels digging into his back with every thrust brings out a sort of primal urge in him, spurring him to rut up into her like a man possessed.

“You feel perfect,” Spencer groans out against the flushed skin of her neck. He presses a soft kiss to where her pulse bounds just beneath the skin before pulling away and locking eyes with her. “When I’m old and gray and can remember nothing else, I’ll remember this. I’ll remember how it felt to kiss you for the first time – how it felt to touch you. How it felt to worship you and make love to your body.”

Spencer’s voices catches, thick and overwhelmed with emotion.

“I’ll remember how it feels to love you.”

Her breath catches in her throat and sharp pang of panic burns hot in his chest. Had he misinterpreted her affections? Did she not burn for him in the same way? Perhaps the ambrosia meant nothing. Spencer’s movements falter, and for several torturous seconds he’s nearly paralyzed with fear.

She silences those fears with a kiss.

“Oh, Spencer,” she sighs as she presses her forehead against his. “I love you, too. More than you could ever comprehend.”

Spencer resumes moving in and out of her, but the frenzied feeling from before is replaced with something else now. Something softer, but no less passionate.

“Yeah?” he inquires, searching her eyes for any trace of insincerity. He finds none, and it’s a relief. Any hint of falseness in her claim would surely lead to a heartbreak he could never recover from.

“Yes.” The word trails off into a moan. “I love you, Spencer Reid. I don’t imagine I’ll ever stop.”

Spencer’s heart jolts and he whines pathetically against her mouth. “I’m counting on that.”

“I’m close, Spencer,” she pants, her breath hitting his face in warm puffs. “Don’t think I can last much longer.”

“Me, too.” Spencer nudges her nose with his own. “Reach between us and touch yourself, my love. I want us to cum together. Can you do that for me?”

She nods, and the hand that clung to his right shoulder dips in between them to rub tight circles against her crest. Spencer doubles his efforts when he sees her eyelids flutter closed, and the resulting tightening of her core leaves him panting hard.

“Spencer, I-” her breath catches in her throat as Spencer delivers a particularly strong thrust. Her head falls against his shoulder, her soft moans of his name like heaven to his ears.

“Cum with me, baby,” Spencer grunts out desperately. He needs it like he needs air to breath and water to drink. And once he has it, he knows he’ll need it again and again.

She gives it to him with a muffled cry of his name and he’s instantly swept away, drowning in the blissful way her body sings for him. His body follows her lead, shattering completely under her fingertips.

While he’s been through similar acts with previous partners, those instances always felt impersonal and clinical. The caresses and whispered words were all a means to an end, an end that usually left him feeling lonelier and emptier than when he started. But right now, as he feels the beat of her heart pressed against his own, he swears he couldn’t feel fuller - full of adoration, full of affection, full of love. It’s beautiful and overwhelming and everything Spencer didn’t know he was looking for.

A raucous round of applause erupts from the direction of the party, startling the two of them. Spencer feels her laugh against his neck.

“It’s almost as if they were applauding us for a job well done.”

Spencer presses a chaste kiss to the crown of her head.

“As they should. That was sensational.”

Spencer carefully pulls out and lowers her to the floor. He wastes no time in tilting her chin up and capturing her lips in a reverent kiss. Spencer hopes his lips convey his gratitude.

The two of them pull apart and set to making themselves presentable. Their efforts prove to be in vain when Spencer points out a dark purple love bite nestled into the crook of her neck. She counters this by taking note of the smudge of red lipstick on his collar.

“What an adulterous pair we make, Professor.”

Spencer rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I’m not your professor anymore.” He bends down and places a kiss to her lips before taking her hand in his.

“I suppose you’re not,” she muses as they meander down the corridor. “Whatever shall we do now?”

As the two of them step out of the dark hallway and reenter the party, Spencer smiles to himself. Visions of wedding rings flit through his mind. Spencer supposes he’ll have to take a break from the posh clothing and rare books in favor of saving his money. He’ll buy only the finest ring for his future wife, after all.

“I have a few ideas.”

taglist: @90spumkin @moon-light-jukebox @whxt-to-write @calm-and-doctor @jessalyn-jpeg @pinkdiamond1016 @itsametaphorbriansblog @eldahae @itsmytimetoodream @kasaikawa @shadyladyperfection

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #professor!spencer #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #matthew gray gubler fanfic #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #smut #professor!reid

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comeandreadawhile · 3 years

Text

Clone Social Media : Hobbies

The phenomenon starts with the intention to show the civilians of the Republic the men behind the armor, as well as an encouragement for the men to do the things they enjoy when they have the time to in lieu of sitting around cleaning weapons for a third time that day.

Scratch that—the phenomenon starts with High General Kenobi, on a rare day of leave, teaching his Marshal Commander how to bake. Said Commander’s men were happy to taste test the flurry of experimental confections that pervaded their leave days in the following months. News spread fast of Marshal Commander Cody having a knack for baking, and so followed the spread of troopers attempting to make their own treats and/or branching off into other things the civilians called “hobbies” whenever what they could get their hands on afforded them.

The phenomenon kicked off when Padawan Commander Tano began a social media account with the intention of using it as a public diary, her first post was a picture taken of some of the 501st—with permission, her caption says—as they went about retouching paint scuffed in their most recent battle. The men are relaxed, some with paint smeared on their hands and cheeks and seemingly reacting to some joke or story told outside the threshold of the camera, and it’s an almost startling difference from the image of rigid lines of men, faceless in their full kits of white plastoid, that the civilians are used to. Tano’s second post is a video clip of one Captain Rex, with one General Skywalker sitting on his back counting reps, doing push-ups; the video was captioned “Another day in the G.A.R., restless in hyperspace.”

The digital diary continues from there, videos and pictures of specific locations posted only after reaching a safe distance to do so, never sharing anything mission critical—past, current, or hypothetical future. Eventually she shows the men under her how to make their own accounts, and other Jedi and their own troops follow suit. The 212th then takes it upon themselves to post pictures of the little cakes their Marshal Commander has gotten so proficient at making, and, when General Kenobi creates a joint account titled “command_212”, convince Cody to post pictures of things he bakes before they are distributed—even in the process of baking, if the fancy strikes him.

So Marshal Commander Cody shares pictures of his experiments, of recipes he finds that turned out well, of recipes that didn’t because of some error or other that he’s determined to give another go, with the occasional cryptid picture of General Kenobi taking his tea in the barrack’s kitchen. As time goes on those pictures shift to Obi-Wan covered in flour, or a shot taken from several feet away of Cody sneaking batter captioned “caught red-handed in the red velvet”.

As Marshal Commander of the 212th has taken to baking to relieve stress, the Commander of the 104th has turned to needlecraft and yarnwork.

The 104th retaliate the populatrity of the 212th’s command account with the domesticity of their own, despite the vaguely threatening possibilities of knitting and sewing needles. Boost and Sinker run the majority of the account, although all OG members of the 104th have access to it; they post pictures of the things Wolffe makes them, of General Plo covered in the lengths of scarves he’s received, of Comet in the ever-growing swath the gifted blankets with the current tally in the caption (his toes were off the floor by blanket burrito 6). The holonet at large loves Plo almost as much as his men, and once a week they post him saying some piece of sage wisdom—or utter nonsense, as the mood strikes—as the war goes on. After months of asking for a face reveal and requests for the patterns people are sure Wolffe uses, they make the most Force-forsaken tutorial videos as an all-in-one series.

“HOLY **** HE’S CASTING ON 12 TO START—“ “WHAT A MAD MAN!”

“So when you get to this row here you’re going to knit 3, purl 3–“ “TRANSCENDENT!” “—yes, thank you, and then keep doing that until you reach the end of the row...”

“Oh, OH MAN HE’S GONNA DO IT!” “HE’S GONNA CHANGE COLORS!” “Holy **** man he’s gonNA YOOOOOOOOOO!”

Cody is then issued a challenge by the holonet to learn to knit. He learns to crochet. Because Obi-Wan knows how to crochet. The holonet loves video snippets of them progressing on projects together. They also love the videos Ahsoka posts of Cody attempting to teach Rex, and praise the absolutely completely unrelated hat she later posts a picture of; it covers her Montrals with enough room for a few years’ growth. Anakin gets yarn stuck in his mechanical hand because he forgot to put his glove on before attempting to craft.

The real throwdown happens when the account for the Coruscant Guard posts videos of Fox aggressively tatting while venting about the lack of funding for proper security and surveillance tech.

Each posts sees a comical increase in the surfaces covered in lace doilies and runners, as well as a new topic for Fox’s venting.

A picture of an pillow embroidered with “Kriff the Seppies” is briefly posted to the 104th’s account before being taken down and replaced with a censor bar. Rumors begin to circulate when Senator Chuchi posts a picture wearing a gifted lace shawl; Senator Amidala comments on her confusion being resolved as to why Riyo kept bringing little baskets of crochet thread with her before a senate meetings.

A competition for ship nose art starts up, many votes going to the 501st, and the holonet’s heart once again melting at “Plo’s Bros”. Personal art begins popping up soon after. Fives starts posting spray paint tutorials, Rex and Hardcase become popular for clean graphic art. Bly gets his hands on metallic paint and the crowds go wild. Kix has taken his clean haircut game to the next level.

And then Colt and Shaak Ti make an account to post art the Littles make, most of them representations of their older brothers with wishes of safety and good luck, and of the only Jedi they’ve ever known, sometimes creatures they studied in their preparation for worlds outside of Kamino. Of batches passing their final tests with a congratulatory post.

Suggestions and instructions are sent out for clones who want to take and sell commissions, allowing them to finally make some money; most Jedi are more than happy to help make sure the finished work mails out properly to the buyers.

Ships of the non-nose art kind surface on the holonet. It’s generally agreed upon that command_212 is run by husbands, and Aayla is the protector of the 327th and Bly’s heart, even if she’s a clumsy menace around his artwork (caf spilled over a drying watercolor can be interesting or terrible depending on the circumstance). No one can agree whether Skywalker is married to his captain or Senator Amidala, but everyone agrees that Ahsoka is their baby. The holonet declares Plo to have Big Dad Energy. Shaak Ti’s Big Mom Energy is a friendly rival. The Jedi council has made no official statement denying or denouncing these attachments.

Public interest begins to shift from producing more soldiers to making sure the ones the Republic has stay alive, when the realization hits that within a couple of years the children posting art and losing teeth would probably be losing blood and brothers on some far away planet. Of making sure the men are eating well instead of just surviving. Well certain account-holders don’t post for a while, grieving a loss, posting again to reassure their followers they’re alright, the public questions what’s being done to keep the men emotionally and mentally well outside of the hobbies the public knows them for. “Born to handle any stress” is very much the wrong answer.

Pressure is put on the Chancellor to let the Separatists sucede, no one quite sure anymore why allowing them to would be harmful when at worst new trade agreements would need to be brokered; if they want to leave so badly, let them. And let the men have their hobbies.

(Sad thoughts ahead)

Sometimes commissioners never receive their orders, simply a refund with a letter from that clone’s Jedi after the latest battle ends. Any money they’d made would be split however their closest brothers decide.

The channel that always posts pranks and spray paint tutorials makes a post saying they’d be away to look after their sick little brother. It’s the last post they make.

The Coruscant Guard’s account stops posting a few nights later.

After Order 66 goes out, a new account goes up posting any pictures and cute videos of Aayla. Reposting old ones that the public is sure they’d seen somewhere before, posting new ones of funny faces and ridiculous videos of silly dances. The last one is the only one captioned, “she wasn’t a traitor.”

The account is deleted the same night, and the one of the 327th’s adventures never posts again.

Wolfpack_104 does not post, but is still there.

Command_212 is deleted almost immediately the night of the order.

Years go by, almost sixteen, and only after Vader already knows she’s alive does Ahsoka post again. It’s a picture of her, and Rex and Wolffe onboard the Ghost in hyperspace captioned “Was never a traitor. Always the little sister even if I’m four years older. In case you’re wondering, Rex still draws and Wolffe still knits when we can nab the string and flimsi.”

#star wars #the clone wars #codywan #blyla #implied #foxiyo #rexwalker #commander cody #captain rex #commander wolffe #commander bly #commander colt #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #plo koon #shaak ti

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tainted-wine · 4 years

Text

Primal Dissonance

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

So anon was like:

And since I’m total ass at writing short drabbles, or maybe it’s because they called me senpai, I ended up with a whole-ass fic. This took a different route than planned but I hope you enjoy, anon!

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Dubcon, Pheromones, Mindbreak, Feral Hawks, Rough and Public Sex, Tit Abuse. This totally isn’t as dark as it sounds.

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Hawks has been getting noisy. Not in the usual sense; he’s always a motormouth. No, he’s been making sounds that you’ve never heard him make.

At first you thought he was sick and something was irritating his throat, but on one occasion when you offered him water after hearing the sound, he almost looked offended. You concluded that it wasn’t an illness.

You later noticed that the noise often happens when it’s just the two of you together. During late night movie viewings at his place, he’d hold you close and release a constant hum, the vibrations from his chest and wings soothing enough to make you drift into sleep in his arms. You never saw the look of disappointment in his face as he decided to cuddle you for the rest of the night.

Just a few days later, he spots you during one of his patrols and presents you with a surprise expensive gift. A ruby pendant, the same brilliant shade as his feathers, was placed around your neck by gentle gloved hands.

“Hawks—why—what did I do to deserve this?” You asked while your eyes reflected the gemstone’s sparkles.

“Just wanted to give a pretty gift to my pretty girl.” He gave you a kiss, and waves of soft hums leave his mouth and into yours, flowing through your body, stimulating all of your nerves and triggering pleasant shivers. One makeout session later, and you both pull back to lock eyes. He’s looking at you expectantly, but you don’t even know what the hell he’s expecting.

You look to the side awkwardly. “Thank you, Hawks. It’s beautiful, but I…don’t have anything to give in return. This was a complete surprise, after all.”

His eye twitches, but he smiles and embraces you. “That’s fine, chickadee.”

A pigeon appears during your hug, and the soft coos emanating from it give you an epiphany.

“A pigeon! That’s what it is! You’re cooing like a pigeon!”

This time it’s his smile that twitches. Did you say something wrong? Whatever it is, he brushes it off with a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

That was also the day you noticed his rising body temperature. You asked once again if he was feeling ill, and at least this time he didn’t appear to be upset when he answered ‘no.’

On the next night you spent in his home, he—and you’re still not over this—took your hand and pulled you in for a dance. It wasn’t some silly jig in which he blindly moved to a random pop song, it was a slow classic love song, and he moved both of you in an elegant dance fitting for a ballroom.

It was the last thing you expected from the hero that normally took you on KFC dates or, if he had the time, reserve a spot at his favorite yakitori place. But there was no way you could say that you didn’t like the way his feet glided across the floor, wings acting as a living cape that made each of his movements look all the more graceful, and you followed his pace as best as you could.

You clung onto him more tightly than intended when he dipped you after a spin, sharp avian eyes boring into you before he buries his face in your neck, and that’s when you feel more than hear the cooing return. It’s a tune that never fails to make you feel so warm and safe; you have no idea how his gentle sounds have such influence over you.

He looks pleased by your relaxed state, pulling you back up and brushing a few stray hairs out of your face. “So?”

You smiled and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I didn’t know you had such grace, Hawks. Now hurry up, or we’re going to miss the movie for tonight!”

You scampered off into the kitchen to prepare the popcorn, completely oblivious to the baffled look your boyfriend was giving behind your back.

A few days later and you’re more certain than ever that he’s coming down with something, because now there’s a constant sheen of sweat all over his skin, and his breath sounded labored even when he was just sitting around. Since he ignores all of your pleas to stay home for just a day or two, you come up with another solution. Hawks pouts like a child when you tell him that a little nature and clean air might restore his health, but he still accepts your offer for a date at a nature park because hey, spending a day in natural beauty with you sounds great.

You practically dragged him into a bus after telling him several times that he shouldn’t tire himself out prematurely by flying both of you there. One long scenic drive later, you both arrive at your beautiful destination. The park was huge and lush with flora of all kinds, from tree-filled paths to endless flower fields.

Exploring everything this paradise has to offer with Hawks sounds like a dream, but your main goal was to loosen him up and help him feel better, so you avoided the populated areas, passing the cycling roads, the play areas, the bug houses, all of the charming attractions until you reached the long stretches of vibrant colors. The flower park.

You and Hawks began a slow stroll hand-in-hand, taking in the seemingly endless blooms, the trees shedding petals onto the walkway—all of it served as the most delicious treat for your eyes.

But when you looked at the winged hero to see if he was enjoying the scenery as much as you were, you saw that he was staring at you. His face was slightly flushed, but you couldn’t tell if it was the result of his feverish temperature or if he’s finding this whole date very romantic.

“The flowers are over there, birdbrain,” you joked with a squeeze of his hand.

His wing wrapped around you and pulled you in closer, encasing you in his abnormal heat. “The only flower that matters is right here.” There was a rough breathlessness to his voice that made the otherwise corny line sound sensual.

And then the coos returned, bringing you back to that pleasant world where everything was warm, soft, and safe. The red feathers surrounding you quivered and rippled like ocean waves of scarlet. You were supposed to be making him feel at ease here, not the other way around.

A chorus of chirps snapped you out of your stupor. You broke out of the hypnotic embrace and spot a bunch of small bouncing figures in the white lilac tree in front of you. “Aww, look at all of the little tits, Hawks!” You point at the flock of singing critters.

Hawks snorted immaturely.

Before you could withdraw your arm, one of the Japanese tits flew over and perched on your still-extended finger, leaving you bug-eyed and your mouth agape. “Hi there! You’re a brave little guy, aren’t you?” You said softly, hoping not to startle it. It tweeted in response, fluffing up its black and white plumage as it looked up at you curiously. “Hawks! It’s so cute!”

Red wings bristled, but you were too enamored with the friendly bird on your hand to even look back at your boyfriend. It continued to sing, the tits sitting in the tree joining in to create an adorable medley of chirps, tweets, and peeps. “Such a nice sound, I never realized how amazing these little guys are.” You keep watching the beady eyes that stare right back at you, feeling the bird’s little feet move quickly as it adjusted itself to get more comfortable.

And with a powerful slug from a hardened red feather out of nowhere, the tiny tit is knocked off of your finger and sent flying like a fucking golf ball.

Your pointing hand was still out as you looked on, eyes and mouth now wide open in horror instead of awe. The poor bird managed to right itself before it hit the ground, flapping frantically to ride the light breeze and fly past its tree of brethren and off into the distance, its sloppy turns and sudden drops betraying how dazed it was.

With your short-lived friend out of your sight, you turned to the man that ruined your magical bonding session, multiple negative emotions boiling inside you and ready to spill right onto this bastard. “Hawks!” You’re prepared to blow his ears off with every ounce of frustration, every concern that’s been plaguing you for the past week thanks to the strange changes that he refuses to talk about, but then you freeze.

The man’s face has darkened, eyes narrowed with its pupils shrunken into beady slits, lips pressed together in a tight frown—he looked enraged. But the terrifying look wasn’t directed at you, he was looking up at the innocent tits still residing in the tree and paying no mind to the violent treatment of one of their own. As his wings slowly spread with feathers sharpened, your chest constricted once you realized what was about to happen.

“Stop!” You threw yourself at him, grabbing at the outstretched limbs in a pitiful attempt to stop them, the bladed edges cutting your hands. It was still enough to shock and prevent him from launching any of the deadly weapons at the birds. You felt his feathers return to their soft fluffy state as he stumbled from your weight. “What the hell are you doing? What, are you pissed that it chose my hand instead of yours? The hell is wrong with you?”

Now he was aiming the glare at you, and you couldn’t help but shrink under the intimidation. His voice was shockingly low. “Just what game are you playing at here? Gushing over another bird’s song right in front of me?”

You eyed his still-expanded wings as you tried to make sense of what he said. “What?” Was all you could say.

“Here I was thinking you just had extremely high standards, but maybe you’re the type that likes to play hard to get, or make your guy jealous and see how he handles it.” He took a step toward you, and you took one back. “Well let me tell you, I’m not handling it very well.”

What he was implying would have made you burst into laughter if he didn’t look so threatening right now. “You’re…jealous? Of the bird that was on my finger?”

He laughed, or at least tried to, but the shortness of breath made him cough. The sudden anger must be worsening whatever has been making him hot and throaty for the past days. He needs to calm down for his own damn sake. “I guess I shouldn’t be, should I? Not for a girl who gets wet over any bird that does something as simple as approach her.”

“Excuse me?” Did you hear that correctly? No joke, did you really hear that shit correctly?

Hawks just keeps on going, taking your bewilderment as more mockery. “I give you something shiny, you don’t say anything.” A flash of several feathers and you feel your arms being pulled in front of you, the red tufts tying your wrist together.

“I put on a nice dance I practiced for, and you don’t say anything. Did you even notice that I cleaned and decorated the room that night?” You’re panicking from your tied hands and don’t see him fire another barrage that goes for your ankles, their tugs forcing you to lose your balance and fall hard onto the ground with a pained cry. Your hands are forcefully pinned above your head. “Hell, you seem to enjoy my song every time you hear it, so what’s the deal?”

While your heart is on the verge of exploding from its anxious beats, the gears in your head are spinning as you try to figure out how exactly this whole miscommunication even happened, but they keep jamming, filling your head with sparks and smoke of pure confusion. “What song? You haven’t been singing anything!” You yell as you fight against the feather-made cuffs around your hands and feet, but there was no breaking free. They suddenly felt as strong and durable as elastic metal.

Hurt flashes across his face and you don’t understand why goddammit, but it’s quickly masked with another scowl. “You mean the song that’s lulled you to sleep? The song that never fails to put you at ease every time? I can sense it, you know. How calm and pleased you feel whenever you hear it. I know it’s not the loud obnoxious tune of a songbird,” he glances at the tree that continues to emanate various calls as he kneels over you, nearly straddling your waist. Smart of him to keep his groin out of the range of your knees. “But you still enjoy it, right? I��m not too upset that you compared it to a shitty pigeon.”

You only stutter in shaky breaths as he lowers himself and presses all of his weight onto you, your eyes shut as he nuzzles your face lovingly. He feels like a furnace, the sweat from his face slathering onto yours from his rough rubs.

That’s when you smell something potent. You’ve picked up traces of it from him throughout the week, a strange but not unpleasant mixture of salt and sweet. You assumed it to be some sort of shampoo or cologne, but now it’s hitting you full force and it’s making your body…respond. With each inhale, the exotic scent sends a tingle down your abdomen and a release of wetness that dampens your clothing. What the hell is happening to you?

Hawks pulls away and sniffs the air. Your feminine aroma has him moan so suggestively that it makes your core heat up even more. “Oh, so this is getting you going?” He questions in a judgmental tone before something appears to cross his mind, and he laughs with a slap to his forehead. “I’m such an idiot. I’ve been doing this all wrong, haven’t I? You’re not a bird.” He kisses at the side of your face and licks the shell of your ear before whispering, “You’re a mammal. You don’t choose a mate by their pretty gifts or fancy dances.”

The lustful haze invading your mind almost distracts you from whatever is tugging at your pants and pulling them down. “H-Hawks…” You accidentally moaned. You were too out of it to even properly convey your worry. Your pants are removed and something tickles your hips to remove your panties next—that’s when you identify them as more feathers.

“With mammals, males just take what they want. They catch her, hold her down, and fuck her on the spot.”

You gasp when your lower body is completely stripped and exposed—a mistake—Hawks’s intoxicating smell rushes into your mouth and nostrils, making you clench and gush. He lifts himself just enough for the living binds around your wrists to pull and drag you off of the stone walkway and into the blooming batches. The flowers were just tall enough to probably hide you from anyone at a distance, but the winged man crawling over and sitting in front of your feet would easily give you away. “Hawks, someone…might see us,” you mutter.

He only chuckles. “Good, I want them to see. Are you little bastards watching?” He looks up at the lilac tree that now looms right over both of you. The resting tits have gone quiet, most likely intimidated by the large bird-human hybrid that continued to glare at them.

The response was ridiculous enough to temporarily free you from your trance. “I’m not worried about the birds, you dumbass.”

“Hmph, of course you’re not. You’d let them all join in if I’d let you, wouldn’t you?”

You have so many questions about how that would even work.

But you’re interrupted by the feathers around your ankles pulling your feet apart, easily overcoming your resistance and spreading you wide open for the hero in front of you. You have to look away from just how soaked you are, juices flowing from your swollen pussy and onto the soft soil, some of it sticking to your parted thighs in strands. The sight makes Hawks salivate.

“I’m at the peak of my rut and I’m tired of waiting. Gonna make you mine.”

It’s all he says before his entire mouth is on your cunt, tearing a startled cry from your throat. The peaceful sounds of the wind and rustling leaves are overshadowed by the absolutely filthy slurps, sucks, and growls between your legs. He was being a greedy savage that simply wanted to drink you up. There were no careful methods or patterns, just a hungry tongue that lapped at every inch of you and lips that sucked on anything they could grip.

You could barely even writhe from the onslaught, what with your arms pinned over your head and your feet held down so strongly that you couldn’t even move them across the dirt. You kept your sights on the rich colors of various flowers that encircled you as the sweet-smelling haze enveloped you again, enhancing your pleasure. Despite Hawks’ sudden loss of his oral skills, the feral nature of it all—the smothered snarls against your sex, the startling feel of his teeth carelessly grazing your sensitive flesh, and the lewd sight of his face covered in your glistening juices as his glassy eyes opened and stared into yours as he ate you alive—his voracity had you boiling over.

He gulped your essence loudly, welcoming every drop of the orgasmic flood into his mouth. All of the colors in your vision blurred more with each mind-numbing pulse. You weren’t even aware of the shameless wails that left you until the blissful waves finally subsided.

Once he had his fill, he finally pulled away from your mound and boy did he look like a hot mess. His cheeks were a deep red that was slowly spreading across his cum-covered face, a beady string of your fluids hanging from his lips before dripping off. He was climbing back over you and when the fuck did he take his pants off? He must have unbuttoned and removed them while he was licking you into heaven.

He still manages to look smug while he takes in your spent form, your slightly parted lips impossible to resist. Your mouth was suddenly locked with his, the breath you were desperately trying to get back stolen from you. And then the scent returns, this time accompanied with a powerful salted lemon flavor that assaults your taste buds. The taste of your own pussy was insignificant; his aroma in both your nose and mouth is nearly suffocating, your still-recovering inner walls already squeezing out more of your slick.

His tongue thrashes about in your mouth to paint his sweet saliva on every spot he could reach. You swallow it up thirstily and feel an immediate response in your throat that somewhat frightens you. Numbness overtakes your mouth and your throat relaxes completely; you felt like it was suddenly impossible to choke.

Hawks messily pulls away, breathing heavily and licking his lips. “Look at you. All it takes is a whiff and taste of a rutting male to turn you into a submissive little bitch.” You’ve never heard him speak like that, but like every action he’s taken since you’ve been at his mercy, it doesn’t fail to arouse you for reasons you still don’t understand. “Do you want some more? Hmm?”

You’re nodding before your crippled mind can comprehend the question.

The drugged kiss has you dizzy. You’re doing your best to keep track of his movements as he straddles your chest, his cock coming into focus and pressing against your lips. He doesn’t give you a command, you simply open up like a trained whore.

You’re moaning from the addicting taste of his length that pushes all the way to the back of your throat. Once his pubes are flush against your nose, your eyes roll back and you lose all sense of…everything. Everything except for that exhilarant fragrance and flavor.

Even as he begins to move in your mouth, your tongue swirls all around the sweet meat in an attempt to taste him all over. You’re throbbing wildly, but the feathers prevent you from bringing your thighs together for some much needed friction.

He was thrusting in and out at a pace that should have you gagging, but you take the pounding smoothly. Everything was murky, save for the pleasure that was slowly consuming you. You think the birds are singing again, maybe.

Something was smacking against your chin…rather loudly, you think. Hawks’s balls. How obscene, the way he’s hunched over you and fucking your face so roughly, but it’s hard to feel embarrassed when it’s all making you feel so damn good. Drool gathers and drips down your mouth. Your throat has become a second pussy, and he was fucking it like one.

The scent has your entire body on fire and you wish so badly that you could touch yourself. It was too powerful, each breath filling you with more burning tension. Your desperate whines came out as bubbly gurgles around his hammering dick. Your climax is dangling right at the edge. All you need is just the smallest touch on your drenched, deprived pussy.

His thick intrusion suddenly leaves your mouth, allowing oxygen to properly enter your lungs and for the pooling saliva to be swallowed. Hawks says something as you cough and sputter, but everything is still too muffled.

“Good……….not yet……….finish inside.” That was all that you were able to catch. You frankly don’t care. You immediately want his overpowering scent back.

When something pushes past the entrance between your legs, you cum instantly. Your scream is silent, or maybe you just can’t hear it, as your restrained limbs twitch like mad from the excruciatingly pleasurable contractions.

You’re already being fucked roughly while you’re still coming down from your orgasmic high. You’re rocked against the flowers and the soft earth beneath, your peaceful surroundings a stark contrast to the raunchy act currently taking place among them.

Hawks leans in once again, and you have to turn away and hold your breath because you truly felt like one more whiff of that mouth-watering smell would bring you the most euphoric death. His mouth drew closer to your ear, harsh pants in sync with his rapid thrusts. There’s no way a body was meant to handle so much stimulation, yet you didn’t want it to end.

You wanted this powerful man and everything that he had. You want him to fill your womb with his seed…bear his strong and healthy offspring…then let him take you all over again…

There’s a soft rumble that brings you back down to earth, clearing your mind just enough so that all of your senses work properly again. The smudged colors return to their original shapes, and the cooing that vibrates through both of your bodies can be heard loud and clear. His song.

“That’s it, baby. I’ve got you right here. Just give in to me.” Hawks sounds on the verge of losing his voice, weak and graveled, but his singing and hips aren’t letting up.

Finally, fucking finally, the feathers release your limbs. Ignoring how boneless they feel, you use all of your strength to wrap your arms tightly around his neck, and your legs lock right above his ass. You cling onto him like a parasite and moan freely, trusting his low and soft vocals to keep you grounded as his citrus aura captivates you again.

Your involuntary clenches ruin him and take him to his peak, several more hard and deep pumps bringing you to your final climax. Both of you cry out loudly enough to scare away the tits still resting in the tree, the small flock flying off to find a quieter perch.

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

Good. That showed the little bastards.

Hawks smiled triumphantly as the small birds fled the erotic scene. Once he was certain that none of them were coming back, he returned his attention to you. Your chest heaved with each audible breath, your entire body drenched in sweat, just like his. He laid a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking lovingly as you close your eyes for much-needed rest after almost losing your mind.

He did it. He finally claimed you, and all he had to do was just show a little dominance…and expose you to a hefty dose of pheromones. It was clearly way more than you could handle—maybe the face-fucking wasn’t the best idea, but it looked like you were enjoying yourself enough. No harm done.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Hawks was a cool-headed man. He’s managed to stay calm and collected in the direst of situations. Still, when he slowly turns around to see a man dressed in the park’s staff uniform, blushing at the sight of a sweaty couple with no pants on among the innocent blossoms, he can’t help but feel just a wee bit fucked.

“H-Hawks? It’s really you? Wha-?” The poor guy is lost for words from the fact that he just found the number 2 hero banging someone in public.

Eh, he’s talked his way out of tighter spots.

With a smile, the winged hero sends a few feathers to his discarded pants and withdraws a pen from its pockets.

“How about a deal, buddy? An autograph from yours truly and a coupon for my merch. All you gotta do is walk away and forget what you just saw.”

#hawks #smut #birdbrain hawks #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #tw dubcon #tw animal harm

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demonicheadcanons · 3 years

Note

Could I suggest the brothers reacting to MC confessing to them accidentally?

MC Confesses to the Obey Me! Brothers By Accident

AN: Cute prompt! Sorry I took so long to get to this, nonny! This post is romance based, so if you’re looking for something more platonic I’m sorry but this one’s not it ;u;

They’re literally almost all sleepy in these, I’m having a day where I find that really cute ^^”

Lucifer

Lucifer feels exhausted, half-dozing off at his desk when you walk in and poke him square on the forehead. It startles him enough that he sends you a harsh glare through his hair. You grin at him, and he responds only by scoffing and turning to the side, stretching his arms out. Well, he is grateful you woke him up to some degree - he has a lot of work to get done and has to remain focused.

But there’s something enchanting about how he looks and moves when he’s too tired and trusts you enough that he doesn’t feel the need to remain guarded. He’s graceful as always, but allowing someone to see him looking, for a lack of a better term, like his feathers were thoroughly ruffled and he was ready to turn in for the night, was a rare treat, and one sweet enough to crush your own walls.

By the time you realise you’ve just admitted to liking him aloud - something simple, but he knows what you mean when you say that maybe you like him a little too much, mumbled under your breath mindlessly - he’s already standing in front of you, leaning down to look you square in the face with an unreadable expression.

The corners of his mouth twitch up as he requests - or demands, its hard to tell - that you repeat what you just said. "I like you?" you say, although it sounds like a question, and he smiles and asks, "Are you sure? You don't sound it," with a teasing lilt to his voice.

You don't get to respond before he hums and straightens up, crossing his arms. "How much?" he asks, sitting against the front of his desk and watching you carefully.

"What do you mean, how much?" you sigh, frustrated. This proud man was getting on your nerves. Its not like confessing is easy, planned or not, and he had the gall to tease you about it?

"How much do you like me?" Lucifer's smile widens. When you don't respond, and you start to look somewhere on the edge of hurt, he sighs, rubs his eyes and stands up, tossing his pen unceremoniously onto the desk. He opens his arms and waits for you to walk into them, thoroughly confused by this entire interaction. "I like you too. I thought I'd get to confess first, but it seems you were so determined to beat me to it you did it without thinking."

You blush and glare up at him. That proud smile of his is softer around the edges now, and his hair is still just messy enough from where he's been running his hands through it whilst working that it makes your heart race. You lean into him, press your face against his chest, and release all your pent up emotions in a sigh. Lucifer responds with a chuckle, and he kisses the top of your head.

"Would you like some tea, my dear?"

[[Others under the read more!]]

Mammon

- You two tended to relax together. Things were stressful, it was hard being in a new world and Mammon had been the first to befriend you, even if he refused to admit how much he cared for you most of the time.

But he's tired now, and its a little different. He'd brought over a blanket again and he was on the floor of your room, where he tended to spend a lot more of his nights now, but also where he'd found a place for himself since the very beginning when you first arrived. He leans up on his elbow and looks up at you, and you watch him in turn from the bed. You'd just been talking about something or other but now he's simply grinning at you, something devilish and handsome, and you can't stop yourself.

"I really like you," you half-whisper, and then cover your mouth immediately as if you can stop him from hearing it, can stop the words from leaving and making their way to him. They don't, and he tilts his head, face slowly turning red.

"Huh? What'd you just say?" he asks, sitting up and staring at you. His eyebrows twitch down into a frown, and he looks puzzled, and almost a little bit hurt? "D'you mean it?"

Before you can respond, he barks out a laugh and lays down, staring at the ceiling and covering his face with one arm. “Ah, yeah. We’re friends, right? I like you too.”

You shake yourself out of your stupor to glare at him. “I don’t mean as friends, Mammon.”

He sits up again, looking offended. “What, so we’re not even friends now? Wow! Way to break it to me.”

“You-” you half-growl, before taking a deep breath. Your face is burning, and he’s maybe starting to piece things together, but you can’t stand any more of this. “I like you. I want to go on dates with you, and be your partner, and spend as much time with you as possible. I like seeing your smile when I wake up and knowing I have someone I can trust.”

His jaw drops open and he turns away, covering his face with one hand. “Gimme a second,” he mumbles, and when he looks back at you there are tears in his eyes and he’s grinning. “Of course. Who wouldn’t want to spend time with the Great Mammon!”

His voice catches, and then he’s laughing and crying and you scramble out of your bed to kneel next to him, startled and concerned. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you down on top of him.

“I like you too, MC.” He kisses the top of your head, watery giggles still rattling through his chest.

Leviathan

In all fairness, neither of you were expecting it. It was late, or maybe it was early? You could never really tell in the Devildom, and you didn’t want to move right now for fear of ruining the moment.

Levi was curled up against your side, eyes fluttering closed and then bolting open again as he tried to focus on whatever show he was supposed to be presenting to you. He’d been talking through a lot of it, and you still had the remote in one hand so you could pause it to listen to him properly each time without missing anything. After about an hour of that, he’d started to look tired, and then eventually flopped down against your side, defenseless and unworried, too tired to really process what he was doing.

Your other arm was wrapped around his shoulder, touch featherlight on his jacket for fear of startling him. He was cute, adorable even, and whilst you quite enjoyed seeing him flustered, it was nice to see Levi free of it as well, even if it was a spell only going to last until he woke up a little more.

That moment, as it were ought to, came quite soon. The episode was fading out and the outro music just starting to play when you mumbled, “God, I really do like you.”

Without warning, Levi sits bolt upright and headbutts you in the process, clinging onto his own head as he stares at you with wide eyes and a tomato-red face.

“H-h-huh?” he stutters, lowering one hand to cover his mouth. You fan at your own - he’d made you bite your tongue, and you were trying to process things when he started to mumble to himself at a mile a minute.

“There’s no way you could mean you like-like me right? I mean, I’m me. And you’re you. Why not one of my brothers, or even Lord Diavolo? He’s going to be the king soon! And-”

“Levi, please, one moment,” you groan. Your chin and mouth were sore and you needed a second, and even if you were planning to confess to him sooner or later it really wasn’t like this, and you didn’t need him denying your feelings so soon. You take a few deep breaths, waiting for the pain to subside a little. Levi helps; he hands you a cold can of something or other, purses his lips until they become nothing but a thin, worried line, and waits.

You start laughing soon after. “I do like you. You, Levi. And I know I could spend all day explaining why and you still wouldn’t accept it, so I’m just going to need you to trust me.” You look at him, nervous and already feeling thoroughly rejected, and smile. “You don’t need to return my feelings, but I hope you can accept them as the truth, at least.”

Levi tears up, and he nods, gripping the bottom of his jacket in both hands. His face takes on too many different expressions in those painfully silent moments, and then he opens his mouth, trying to force something out. You weren’t sure what to expect.

“I l-like you too, MC.” He sighs, clenches his hands tighter as he tries not to stammer too much through his words. “I... I...” He laughs, then, holds his head. “It hurts, so its not a dream, right?” His smile is small but glorious, and you can see his sharp teeth. “Yeah. I like you. And you l-like me?”

You take his face in your hands and laugh. “I like you.” He’s bright red but continues to grin anyway, and you poke at his cheeks with your thumb, smiling in kindness.

Satan

Satan is curled up in one of the few tidier parts of his room, and you sit somewhere close by, occasionally glancing up to look at him over a stack of books.

The mess had been more disturbing at first - there were books everywhere, and he definitely wouldn’t take kindly to you knocking down a stack or two of them. He wouldn’t lose his temper, not at you - he hadn’t in a long time, not since before you’d made a pact with him. And despite how awkward it was to try to find a little space big enough for you to sit in every time he requested you come to his room instead of the library or your own, it was nice having that place and knowing you fit there, with him and all of his precious books.

He chuckles and pulls you back to reality, and you’re glad he hadn’t caught you staring at him. You look down at your book and back up again in a weak attempt to cover up what you’d been doing, and Satan smiles all too knowingly, as he often did, and tips his book at you.

“Listen to this, MC,” he says, voice somewhere between cheeky and amused. He’d definitely caught you staring. You blush but tilt your head all the same, curious, and he continues. “It’s a human world story about an admirer who can only ever sneak glances at the person they admire over the top of books. How charming is that?” His bold smile was annoying and handsome at once.

“It’s daring of you to assume I was actually looking at you,” you grumble. “I was lost in my thoughts.”

“But you didn’t deny the admirer part, hmm?” Satan laughs. He doesn’t mean anything by it, isn’t really making assumptions. He’s just trying to poke at you a bit, trying to feel out your reactions so he can better guess at them in future ahead of time. He did that often, and it was something you were getting used to. But this time he was right, and it was a little bit different.

“I can’t deny what’s true,” you mumble at your book. It was quiet, and usually he’d be so engrossed in his own again that he wouldn’t hear you, but you don’t hear pages turning, can’t feel the aura Satan has when he’s thoroughly engrossed in something.

You look up at him and he’s still looking at you, puzzled smile and flushed cheeks catching you off guard. Oh no.

“Do you like me, MC?”

Satan sounds unsure, and you can only swallow and nod as if you weren’t admitting to something you’d planned to keep to yourself for so much longer. Maybe you’d have told him someday in the future, when you were long back in the human world and had met someone else, or were at least starting to get over your feelings. But no. You’d just gone and done it now, with books piled precariously on either side of you and the subject of your affections staring at you, dumbfounded, over an unsteady pile of them.

He absorbs your words slowly, and you know you can’t stand and rush out of there without knocking over enough books to piss him off, so you stay and wait. So what if he knew? Satan wouldn’t get mad about something like that, and he was respectful enough to just ignore it and get on with his life. If it were Lucifer, he might tease you about it, but Satan won’t. And if he reciprocated?..

“Ah, that’s good then,” he smiles, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. He lets out an airy laugh, and you can tell that as much as he’s trying to hide it, he really is feeling flustered. “I was never sure. But, hmm...” Satan clears his throat, looks at you and genuinely smiles now, showing you something deeper than the usual facade he put up to make himself appear like more than just his anger. “I like you too, so its quite convenient, isn’t it?”

You laugh, then, and a weight leaves your shoulders... only to bring on a new one. Your sudden movements topple one of the book piles beside you, and Satan lunges forward to try to catch some of them before they can hit you as you protect yourself with your arms.

When the last one falls, you hear Satan groan as he sits up and pushes the books off of the two of you. He looks around, grins, and then laughs before offering you a hand.

“Well, it was bound to happen eventually.” His emerald green eyes sparkle in the low light, just bright enough to read. “Shall we go out somewhere else? I’d love to take you on a date.”

Asmodeus

(Mildly suggestive at parts. Sorry ;u;)

It was a weekly tradition, to go to Asmo’s room and put on a face mask and relax. He gossiped, although it was harmless - there was no judgements passed on anyone - and you listened and offered insight on things. Asmo would show you whatever new makeup or perfume or clothes he’d gotten, would sometimes go for a full impromptu fashion show, or would rest his head on your thighs and let you run your fingers through his delightfully soft hair.

Today, it was the latter. You’d missed last week for some reason or other - Mammon had probably distracted you, or Lucifer dragged you off somewhere with him, not giving the chance for you to refuse. Sometimes the brothers did it intentionally; rather than setting up their own days to spend with you, they had decided to sabotage your days with Asmodeus instead. You were able to prevent it most of the time, to sneak off to his room or at least away from whoever was trying to draw your attention, but after missed weeks where you couldn’t find enough excuses or an escape route, Asmo tended to cling to you and not let go, begging for some affection. It felt best from you, he’d said once, and you were sure he was joking, because Asmo often commented about how he’d done much more with others in the past and surely you petting his hair and listening to him didn’t compare to that, right?

He opens his eyes now, and looks up at you from your lap. His eyes were always startling, because they were incredibly intense even if his powers didn’t work on you. They were beautiful, as well, much like the rest of him, and your gaze flutters away after a bit because you know they’ll draw you in and force you to admit to things you don’t feel ready to talk about yet.

Asmo chuckles, and you wind a hand through his hair and pull it slightly, frustrated. He pouts at you, face colouring, and you perhaps regret it.

“Don’t be a tease. You’ll ruin my hair if you pull at it like that,” Asmo whines. “I mean, of course I don’t mind that much, but-“

You cover his mouth and shush him, tutting as you put your hand back in his hair and played with a lock or two. Asmo only laughs again, and you can’t help but think how he’d only adore making you more and more flustered, and would even risk irritating you so long as he got to see you a blushing mess. He didn’t push too far, though - he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and more than that he’d be left on his own with no one to run their fingers through his hair if you decided to leave because of it. Or, well - he could easily find someone willing to do so, but it wouldn’t be you, and that’s the whole point of this, isn’t it?

He closes his eyes again and you feel it tug at your heart, something like a desire, but maybe more innocent than what he was used to drawing out of people. You pause, and Asmo opens his eyes to look up at you again, confused, and when met with that gaze, you can’t really hold it back the words that had been threatening to spill for weeks, now, and moreso on days like this when he was seeking delicate affections and smiled at you so beautifully it made your breath catch.

“I like you, Asmodeus,” you half-whisper, and you know he’s heard it because his eyes are wider now and you can see the yellow of his iris, and you half think to push him square off your lap and book it, but then he’s kneeling in front of you with a firm grip on your wrist.

Asmo’s mouth opens and closes, like he isn’t sure what to say. Something like ‘do you mean it?’ or ‘of course you like me, who doesn’t?’ or, maybe, ‘I like you too, love you even!’ Nothing comes out, everything jumbling together in his head. It was rare to see him at a loss for words, as he was a stickler for keeping his composure in almost any situation - it was attractive to be in control of your emotions, wasn’t it? But the silence was painful, and you weren’t sure what to make of it, because as much as Asmo’s mind was racing right now, you weren’t psychic. You couldn’t tell that he was trying to figure out the best way to confess.

Eventually, Asmo settles on doing something he knows how to do better than finding the perfect words for this. He leans forward, hesitates as if checking you were okay, and then kisses you. It’s soft and gentle and not nearly as deep as what he momentarily considered making it, but it’s just right for a confession. He pulls back only to kiss you again, and this time smiles against your mouth when you kiss him back. When you smile too, he throws his arms around your shoulders and laughs, burying his face against your neck and pressing light kisses against the skin there, too, although you can still feel him smiling too much to do it properly.

In the end, it’s not really said aloud, but you know what Asmo is trying to say. He likes you, too. And he is so, so incredibly happy.

Beelzebub

9 times out of 10, when you get the urge to go to the kitchen for some reason - to cook, to get a drink, or to get a snack - Beel can be found there. The main rooms in the house he goes between are the common room, where he spends time with his brothers, his own bedroom, and, of course, the kitchen. And lo and behold, here he is now, eating something you can’t actually recognise and talking to Belphie, who slumps against the counter, half-asleep, but offers you a tired smile when you enter the room.

Beel himself doesn’t notice your presence until Belphie stands up and stretches, looking between you and Beel pointedly. Maybe you had been obvious, or maybe it was because Belphie was actually quite sensitive to people’s emotions when he decided to be and when it involved Beel, but he would often leave you alone with his brother if you bumped into the two of them, as if he were trying to give you a chance. His knowing smirk as he passes you on the way out, mumbling a quiet and lazy goodbye, didn’t help.

“Ah, MC!” Beel beams, and your breath catches. Generally, Beel looked quite pissed off. It was just his resting expression, and you knew he was content or thinking about the next meal he’d have, or something like that. But when he smiled? If you didn’t think it might offend him, you would absolutely compare it to that of seeing an angel. His expression hid nothing, betrayed his delight, and he grinned every single time without fail whenever he greeted you, unless he was seeking you out because he’d had a disagreement with Belphie and needed support.

And now as he stands in the kitchen, unknown food in hand and delighted smile on his face, you consider telling him he’s beautiful. Not like Asmo, not in the same sense. But he truly was stunning, and you wanted him to wear his smile with pride for eternity. He deserved to be so happy, and it would be a nice treat for you, too, to be able to see that expression anytime you wanted. You might sell your soul for that much, you joke dryly to yourself.

Beel looks puzzled when you return from your thoughts, and you realise you haven’t even greeted him yet. Perhaps that was how Belphie had noticed.

“Beel!” you chirp, and you think maybe he grins wider when you say his name, although it’s hard to tell. You lean against the counter where Belphie had been resting. “Did you find something nice to eat?”

He nods enthusiastically, and then seems to consider something before he closes the fridge and stands beside you, resting against the counter too. “Do you want to try some?” he offers, and you can’t help but think that he really only offered food to you and to Belphie, and what did that mean? Did he love you as much as his brother, and was it in the same way, or something different like how you felt for him?

“Am I being selfish by liking you so much?” you think. Or rather, say. Out loud. For him to hear. Unfortunately.

Beel freezes, and his ears go bright red. “You-.. hmm? What do you mean?” he asks, and you can tell he’s looking for a specific answer in the hopeful way he looks at you, but you don’t know what it is. If you admit to liking him and he sees you as a sibling, wouldn’t that be awkward? But if you lied you’d have to carry that with you, too, and it would be hard to correct in future.

You sigh and take a deep breath, and look at him, speaking with whatever confidence you can muster. “I like you, Beel. Would you be interested in... dating me?” You think to tell him that it’s okay if not, it’s okay if he’s not interested or he doesn’t want things to chance, it’s alright if he doesn’t think of you like that. But you can’t bring yourself to, and it’s too late anyone to take back what you’ve said, and what’s the point in confessing only to shut yourself down and reject your own advances before he even gets a chance to?

As you wait, Beel’s face steadily gets redder, and he seems to be fumbling through his own thoughts as if he can’t find the right one, the right answer to this question. And, eventually, he nods, and that smile returns, and your head spins because these last few minutes had been too much to deal with and now you have this huge demon grinning at you as if you’d just handed him the sun with a kiss on the cheek and promised him the world, too, on top of it.

“I like you too, MC!” he beams, and sweeps you up into his arms, food forgotten for the moment. You’d panic if his grip wasn’t so firm, and if you weren’t so sure he would never even risk dropping you. Beel’s eyes twinkle and you think you see a spark of mischief peeking through his delight before he holds you tight to his chest and spins, and you can only hold on and listen to his laugh. You bury your face against him and laugh, too, and you feel as warm and bright as his smile.

Belphegor

(Mild spoilers for up to lesson 16 / 17)

Although you thought you would be able to suss out where Belphie would be - as Beel had his places, Belphie had his own; the planetarium if he couldn’t sleep, so he could look at the stars and think without being disturbed, or the library if he was scheming with Satan, or the attic if he wanted to sleep and wasn’t in his room - you found that it was actually more tricky than that.

You see, after being released from the attic where he’d been trapped for months, Belphie found himself seeking out his brothers on odd occasions. He’d do so anyway, before all this nonsense had occurred, but now there was more meaning behind it. He’d missed them, and he liked to curl up and play games or just fall asleep near one of them. Finding him on those days was almost impossible, because he could be anywhere.

You almost feel like giving up on it - the two of you had agreed to spend time together, but he was nowhere to be found and was probably off sleeping somewhere with no idea what time it was - and felt thoroughly dejected when you bumped into Lucifer, who was quietly leaving the music room, movements near silent and with a gentle and rare smile on his face. When he sees you it vanishes, goes back to his usual expression as if he’d just put on a mask, but you can tell he’s concerned because he puts a hand on your back and leads you down the corridor with him. He only stops at the end of it and leans down to quietly ask if you were feeling okay.

“I’ve been looking for Belphie and I can’t find him anywhere,” you mumble, automatically responding at a similar level to him. It felt like you were sharing a secret. “We were supposed to go on a walk together.”

Lucifer smiles, then. “Ah.” He tilts his head, and for a moment considers telling you it’s a shame he can’t help, but you look so dejected he can’t bring himself to do it. “Now that I think about it, he did mention something like that before he fell asleep in the music room. I didn’t want to wake him up, but he might not mind if it’s you.”

He chuckles quietly when you cheer up, thanking him before you rush off back down the corridor and open the doors of the music room. You see Belphie sleeping on one of the seats near the piano - he’d probably been listening to Lucifer play something or other, and had passed out in the middle of it all.

You can’t help but smile as you crouch down in front of him, pushing his hair away from over his eyes. As usual, he doesn’t even stir - you weren’t sure if he was a light sleeper or a heavy one because it seemed to vary by the day. but most of the time you could get away with little things like this without waking him. It makes you consider just letting him rest until dinner. You would still have time to go for a walk after, and it’s not like anything would change - there was no day and night in the Devildom. It would remain just as cold and dark as it always was. Any time would be the best time to go out, really.

Belphie shifts in his sleep, and you watch as his hair falls back over his face. You stifle a laugh as you push it away again, allowing yourself to run your fingers through his fringe slightly. His hair is soft, delightfully so, and he looks so peaceful and cute whilst sleeping that you absentmindedly let out a sigh.

“I like you, you know?” you mumble, only just stopping yourself from poking him in the forehead, because that would wake him up and it wouldn’t be a good idea to do so right now. “I really do.”

And, much to your horror, Belphie half smirks and opens one eye. You let go of his hair and sit back on your heels, startled, and he stretches and yawns.

“You’re awake,” you say, as if you were accusing him of something, and he laughs.

“Someone decided they wanted to play with my hair,” he grins, lopsided and with sleep still filling his voice, pitching it lower than usual. He clears his throat. “How could I not wake up? And just in time to hear you confess, too!”

Belphegor sits up and watches you cheerfully, and you pout at him. He liked to tease you, but this feels like it should be a forbidden topic. Something he shouldn’t poke and prod at you about.

“I wish you’d just pretend not to have heard it,” you grumble, but it only makes him smile more, and he tilts his head to one side, feigning confusion. Before he can ask why, or tease you more, you cut him off, focusing your gaze on the floor. “It hurts to be teased about this. If you don’t like me it’s okay, but please don’t make me regret liking you.”

“And who said I didn’t like you?”

You look up at him again, and he only sighs and gets up off the bench to kneel in front of you. He looks like he’s waiting for an answer, or waiting for something at least, but when you don’t respond, he pats you on the head and stands, holding out a hand.

“Don’t we have a date to go on? Get up off the floor, it’s dusty,” Belphie says. You take his hand and stand, and he pulls you closer to him, half hugging you as you walk. He was a pain to deal with and he knew it, but he was determined to prove himself worth the effort.

1K notes · View notes

craptsukii · 3 years

Text

genshin boys and terms of endearment they'd use

a/n: this is my first time writing headcanons and ngl i found them quite difficult to format :( i’m liking this style for now, but things might change later on teehee anyway, lemon cake update next week, i promise!

♡༚࿐ 🇩‌🇮‌🇱‌🇺‌🇨‌

let’s get something out of the way first

diluc is not a jerk

sure, he might have tsundere tendencies but he’s definitely not as cold as people make him seem

in my opinion anyway

i like to call him a classy, but also a very private, softie

i can totally see him as someone who’d use terms such as darling, love, doll

a major factor here is the time and place

in public, he tries to seem more indifferent and will most likely refer to you by your name

however, in a more private setting, he has no inhibitions and actually prefers using nicknames!

I feel like diluc would want to really reassure their partner he truly cares about them, but in a direct yet indirect way

and calling you sweet things seems to get the message across.

listen to this while reading!

If only time could pass faster. Who knew waiting could be such an agonising activity? Such a simple but repetitive thing. Waiting for your cake to finish baking, waiting for the morning to arrive and even waiting for your lover to come home turned out to be much more of a challenge. It wasn’t unusual for Diluc to spend hours on end at Angel’s Share, but it was rather odd of him to break his promises.

A sad smile took over your features, remembering last night. Remembering his words, so sweet and benign, promising to dedicate you all of him and his time. His crimson red eyes, full of love and admiration for the person he held so dearly to his heart. His voice, so demure and nothing but a soft whisper, as if raising it would ruin the moment. The moment he shared with you in a little dark corner of Mondstadt, away from curious eyes and sharp ears. The moment he so desperately wanted to hold onto. Yet, the darknight hero was nowhere to be found.

By the time he finally arrived, your eyes were already closing. It was a gloved hand that pulled you out of your somnolent state. Yet again those same red eyes were looking into yours with the same devotion, if not stronger than the night he made his promise.

“Forgive me, love,” he pleaded in a shushed tone, “Kaeya came in and started causing a commotion and I couldn’t just leave.” he continued, his thumb brushing over your cheek delicately.

Too tired to say anything, you placed your hand over his, silently asking him to join you in bed. You had all the time in the world to discuss tomorrow... Hopefully. After discarding his black coat on one of the chairs and taking off his shoes, Diluc plopped in your shared bed, not even bothering to change into something more comfortable. Soon his arms were around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest. His smell reminded you of grapes and it completely enveloped you as you nestled into him.

“If only I could turn back time…” Diluc murmured to himself, kissing the top of your head. “Nothing will come in between us and our time together tomorrow. I promise you, darling.”

Turns out that, in the end, he does keep his promises.

♡༚࿐ 🇽‌🇮‌🇦‌🇴‌

listen to this while reading!

my very polite baby

like sure, he’s straightforward

but he be treating everyone with respect

you might be wondering why that matters

well that's because i think xiao would see it as a little rude to not refer to someone important to him by their name

names play a major part in xiao’s past

with rex lapis re-naming him after taking him under his wing and such

so, in my opinion, xiao finds calling out your name way more meaningful than nicknames

although if he were to use one it would probably be dear

it’s short and he can still address you as “dear (name)”

it does sound quite formal at times though

Moments like this were rare. Usually, sleep doesn’t concern your lover in the slightest, as it rarely comes to him. Although you couldn’t help but admit how much you loved it when he did come and sleep. Cuddled up next to you was the vigilant yaksha, the well known protector of Liyue. And dare you say, it was truly a divine sight. In the wash of the morning light, his face took the appearance of an old photograph, so nostalgic, so at peace. Slowly, one of your hands brushed past his face, placing the few rebel aquamarine strands that were cascading down his cheek behind his ear. For a moment, you find yourself in perfect silence, Xiao’s soft breaths being the only sounds that could be discerned. Without realising, you started softly rubbing his back, your heart leaping at the content purr that followed shortly after.

It was almost impossible to put into words the joy this brought you. Although it was such a simple, mundane thing, seeing Xiao so at ease was by far your favourite memory with him. The more you studied his features the more your sight fell upon his lips. The sudden urge to kiss him overwhelmed you, wanting nothing more than to cherish and show your lover the affection he deserves.

If only the sudden chirping of birds didn’t scare you, barely a few inches away from his face.

Curse those birds and their awful timing! And so, you backed away, laughing to yourself in self-consciousness, thankful that no one was aware of your little mishap.

Or so you thought.

You felt your face get warmer the moment you saw Xiao looking at you, drowsiness still coating his eyes. Yet again, for another short moment, no sound could be heard.

“____ my dear” he said, his voice deep and hoarse, snaking his arms around you as he brought you closer to him, “if you won’t do it, I will.” it was then the flush across his cheeks became apparent to you. Shame you didn’t have time to savour it, his lips immediately finding yours in a sweet, dream like kiss.

Moments like this were truly worth treasuring.

♡༚࿐ 🇨‌🇭‌🇮‌🇱‌🇩‌🇪‌

in contrast with xiao, childe loves calling you cute nicknames

in fact, he barely uses your name!

sometimes he likes to tease you and pretend he forgot your actual name

of course that’s not true,he could never do such a thing

I can totally see him use pet names such as comrade, girlie, cutie, shawty, sweetness, princess/prince, baby

ok i know shawty is kind of random, but i think he’d use kind of ironically?

I think he’d also use big sister/brother just to tease you, even if you’re younger than him

he heard teucer refer to you as such one time and it honestly melted his heart a little bit

as a side note, seeing his siblings get along you makes him genuinely happy.

listen to this while reading!

Spring was such a beautiful time. Especially in Liyue. Especially on a date with the one and only Childe, eleventh of the Fatui harbingers. For someone with such a fearsome title and reputation, it wowed you to no end just how charming, just plain adorable, Tartaglia can be. Albeit, it was only your second date, it was expected of him to at least try to be nice.

And on time.

As you waited, under that beautiful sky, a hue so gentle between cloud and baby blue, you watched each bird upon wing. It was one of those spring days with a kiss of coldness that somehow heightened the warm rays of the sun. You paused to admire the flowers, to sense their aromas, to be in the moment with their transient beauty.

“Lovely, aren’t they?” asked Childe from behind you, a shy, perhaps slightly embarrassed, smile painted on his lips. “Sorry I’m late, I really overestimated my juniors’ capabilities and I had to step in.” he continued, gingerly taking hold of your hand, kissing the back of it.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his gentlemanly antics, although you enjoyed them nonetheless. “Don’t worry about it, you’re here now.” you reassured him, as you took a hold of his hand, already leading him towards nowhere in particular.

Another thing you liked about him. Things were so casual, so easy-going. One might call this date nothing but a hangout, but not every date has to be a luxurious five star dinner or a fancy show. Sometimes just a simple walk along the Liyue port was enough. Enough for you to get to know Childe, enough for you to like him even more.

Suddenly, Tartaglia was in front of you, his hands lightly taking hold of your face.

“Hold on cutie, there’s something on your face,” he answered your silent question, seeing as you looked a little confused. The next thing you knew, his lips descended upon yours. It was a sudden but very much welcomed kiss. A kiss that unfortunately ended just as abruptly, “it was me.”

♡༚࿐ 🇿‌🇭‌🇴‌🇳‌🇬‌🇱‌🇮‌

favourite peepaw

also prefers using your name rather than nicknames

but he’s not completely against them

he finds them quite nice actually

and he actually enjoys being referred by one!

like imagine going for a stroll with him and all of a sudden you go "darling, look!"

he'd look so content oh my lord

in my opinion anyway

he’d usually call you honey, my beloved or even my one and only!

you could be doing the simplest of things like reading with him under a tree

and he'd go "you're my one and only love"

no, he isn’t aware of how cheesy it sounds.

listen to this while reading!

Who knew the God of contracts could be such a romantic? Usually, Zhongli wasn’t a big fan of fancy, elaborate dates. He’d usually say something along the lines that “spending time with you was enough for him to feel like the richest man in the world”, which he technically was even without your presence. But, quite frankly, it was because he lacked the funds to do so that he didn’t pamper you every moment of the day.

So when you found yourself face to face with an array of different foods, meticulously prepared and arranged on a soft picnic blanket, you couldn’t help but wonder —

“Why the sudden change?” you asked, sitting down on the plush cover, to which Zhongli only chuckled.

“Am I not allowed to change my mind?” he replied in a teasing tone, flopping next to you.

“Oh, you are more than welcome to do so,” you winked, pouring some tea for both of you. It smelled like chamomile, “I was just trying to say it’s a nice change.” you continued, taking a few sips of your tea.

Zhongli only hummed, content with your response. Sometimes, sitting in silence, all while eating delicious brunch foods and drinking sweet tea, was much more enjoyable than small talk.

And so, you spend the rest of the day with your lover, basking in the sunshine and each other’s company. In his embrace, there was something so right, something that felt right, smelt right. You let your body sag, your muscle become loose. In that embrace you felt your worries loose their keen sting and your optimism raise its head from the dirt.

“You’re so beautiful, my beloved,” he whispered, cupping your face and kissing you gently.

♡༚࿐ 🇰‌🇦‌🇪‌🇾‌🇦‌

avid user of nicknames

partially because he finds them cute

and partially because he loves teasing you

he’d use them in public and try to get a reaction out of you

like let’s say all of a sudden kaeya is back hugging you, pampering your neck with kisses

saying something like “what’s wrong, baby?”

he’d also use hot stuff, sweet cheeks, gorgeous, handsome, cutie pie, treasure

sometimes they’re really sweet, other times they’re really silly

side note, i feel like this one got a little out of hand sorry yall i lowkey can’t take kaeya seriously

listen to this while reading!

There was something so heavenly about a kiss in the rain, a tender moment that just wouldn’t wait. It was that burst of love that is expressed, not caring if the water soaked through to chill the skin. You felt yourself gasping for air as Kaeya’s lips left yours, doe like eyes searching for his. Behind that brilliant shade of blue sparkled a glacial attraction. So complex and mysterious, it was magnetic. It made you want him even more.

Upon seeing your dazed state Kaeya smiled, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. His hands found yours. “Let’s get you of here before you catch a cold.” he said, leading you down the streets of Mondstadt. It was the middle of August, and you got caught in nothing more than a summer rain. You weren’t even cold, but alas you let it slide, enjoying seeing Kaeya worry about you, even if it wasn’t as serious as he made it seem.

There is something about a rain-washed pathway that invites playful feet, that says each new step will be rewarded with a splash. And soon, you found yourself splashing around, making the most out of this accidental rain shower.

The moment you finally reached your home, Kaeya wasted no time, his arms already wrapped around you in a tight embrace. Yet again, a gasp escaped your mouth, Kaeya’s cold lips leaving goosebumps behind each carefully placed kiss on your neck.

“You know what’s the best way to get warmed up, treasure?” he asked, his hands ghosting over your hips.

You shook your head softly, awaiting his answer.

“A good old dance party!” he exclaimed, spinning you around as he started humming a cheerful. “Nothing gets the blood going like a little movement!” it was obvious he found great pleasure in seeing your more than confused, if not disappointed, expression. Still, he paid you no mind and continued dancing with you all while singing a cheery melody.

It was quite save to assume there was never a boring moment with this man.

♡༚࿐ 🇦‌🇱‌🇧‌🇪‌🇩‌🇴‌

my favourite elevator boy

doesn’t love nicknames but doesn’t hate them either

i see him as an action speak louder than words guy

and although he’s aware that, as his partner, you know that

he still feels sorry for not being as vocal as other people when it comes to talking about his emotions??

so cute terms like these are a simple way he can show his appreciation for you

for some reason, i think he would really like using diminutives??

he’d call you things like little star

or baby or lovebug

i think it really matches his vibe ngl

listen to this while reading!

The breeze blew warm announcing the coming of summer's hottest days. The aroma of the tall grasses were an intoxicating perfume and the starry night above was a painting more sublime than any man could create. The clarity above became reflected in your mind.

Being with Albedo meant putting up with the unholy amount of hours he’d spend on whatever research he’d be conducting at the time. And luckily for you, his next big discovery involved the stars. On the black sky above you, there were a multitude of stars and there were lighter patches, clusters of faint and bold light, the constellations altered according to the time of year. These were the same stars that greeted the ancients, the same ones that would be there in millions of years.

As you enjoyed your little midnight snack, your gaze fell upon the chief alchemist. His eyes were fixated on the landscape above him, utterly fascinated by the world’s mystic beauty. Seeing him so consumed by his studies made your heart feel warm. It was adorable to see him like this.

Your sudden yawn made both you look at each other. Albedo’s gaze was filled with compassion, and perhaps a little remorse for making you come with him so late in the night just to stare blankly at the sky.

But you knew this wasn’t such a trivial thing.

You pet the spot next to you, silently asking him to sit down with you, to which he immediately obliged. As his head found its place on your shoulder a little sad smile made its appearance on his face.

“Sorry for making you come here with me, baby.” he said, his hand drawing patterns along your thigh. “I know this isn’t your idea of quality time.”

“Any time spent with you is quality time, silly.” you giggled, kissing the top of his head. “And besides, who doesn’t enjoy a little bit of stargazing?”

♡༚࿐ 🇻‌🇪‌🇳‌🇹‌🇮‌

ok now for venti

i feel like with him the tone he uses is very important??

i mean this also applies to the rest of the guys

but for venti even more so

he could simply refer to you by your name and it would still feel all special and bubbly

nonetheless, he loves using pet names!

i mean as a bard, he can come up with poems and such on a whim ( flashback to the signora moment :) )

so his nicknames for you always have a certain meaning or funny story behind them

oh, you love pumpkins or had an unfortunate accident involving one? now he calls you pumpkin all the time

he’d also call you things like sunshine because to him you bring so much joy and you warm his heart just like the sun.

with that being said, good luck to those pulling for him! <3

listen to this while reading!

“There you go! You’re really good at this!” Venti complimented you, observing in great detail the way your fingers touched the strings of his lyre.

Judging by the curious stares and even odd looks you’d get from time to time, that wasn’t really the case. What was supposed to be a simple walk around the city turned out to be a full concert. Although Venti couldn’t find it in his heart to tell you, who asked him so eagerly just a few moments ago if he could teach how to play a song, just how… Poor was your attempt.

A relieved sigh could be heard the moment your fingers left the strings, although Venti’s reassuring smile never left his face. “Don’t let a few strangers discourage you! Even the greatest geniuses had to start somewhere!”

“Are you saying I’m a genius?” you asked teasingly with a raised eyebrow, laughing at his flustered face.

“Let’s not go that far…” he murmured, winking cheekily.

“And here I was, thinking I could wow you with my insane musical skills…” you whined sarcastically, handing him his lyre as you continued your stroll. It was then Venti stopped in his tracks. Upon his face, shock was written all over, his expression soon turning sympathetic. For a moment, he left you alone, diving into the crowd of people, only to return to you with a single cecilia flower. Its fragrance was sweet and fresh and its color a perfect white. Shortly after, he gently placed it behind your ear, smiling to himself while looking at you.

“You don’t need fancy tricks to win over what you already have,” Venti said, kissing your cheek lightly. A cheerful tune could be heard across the street, Venti’s soft melody attracting a lot of attention, “I’m all yours, sunshine.” he said loud enough for more than a few people to hear.

He has such a way with words, doesn’t he?

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #soft hours #fluff #genshin xiao #genshin Childe #genshin diluc #genshin headcanons #genshin zhongli #genshin kaeya #genshin albedo #genshin venti #genshin one shots #i’m sorry kaeya stans #i love him but i deadass cant take him seriously 😭😭#kaeya supremacy nonetheless

957 notes · View notes

angelamajiki · 3 years

Text

[ peace treaty - kiribaku ]

AN: this is a fantasy au piece, enjoy! :)

CW: yandere, dubcon, arranged marriage, stalking, coercion, dragon/animal anatomy, fantasy au, afab terms, predator/prey dynamics, size difference, facesitting

“A mate, huh?” Katsuki chuckled as he stroked his companion’s horns, looking into the horizon thoughtfully.

“Think about it! We need hatchlings to lead the future generations of the Bakugo clan.” Eijirou pleaded with his mate. “Don't you ever miss the company of a woman? I know I do.”

Adding a woman to their pack would certainly bring its advantages. It would undoubtedly strengthen their positions as clan rulers if they were to have a wife and children to carry on both men’s legacy.

“Fine,” Katsuki conceded. “Let’s go find a mate then.”

The pair returned to their respective forms, wolf and dragon, as they began their hunt through the wild countryside for their new mate. Days of running down the mountainous forests away from their clan, they settled on resting at the edge of the woods, looking at a clearing just over a shimmering river that separated the two territories. Beyond the meadow was a small fortress surrounded by the community that they presumably controlled—a perfect place to start their search after some well-needed sleep.

Katsuki was the first to awaken from his slumber at the sound of a woman’s voice. And a heavenly voice it was, signing an alluring melody. Peaking his head over the bushes, the young prince saw the enchanting woman bathing alone in the stream. The other man had awoken as well, just as equally entranced by the naked dancing woman.

“A vixen...” Katsuki murmured, twisting to look at his mate. It was clear to both men that she was the mate they were looking for. Independent, vexing, sweet. She was perfect.

“Let’s snatch her up now while she’s distracted, ” Eijirou grumbled impatiently, eager to take her back to their den at once.

“Patience, Ei. I want her too, but now is not the moment to strike. Let's watch her a bit more; she needs to be more than a pretty face, you know that.”

Katsuki did not doubt that she wasn’t their perfect match, but he is a predator to her before he’s a man to her at this moment.

The blissfully unaware maiden that you were, you went on with bathing peacefully in the warm, summer day. Your attendants had followed you from the castle, watching from afar as they knew you valued your time alone in the stream. After some time, one of them called for you back to the castle for supper. Dried and dressed, the group of you departed from the meadow by horse as the sunset.

“So, she’s a princess, Katsuki.” Eijirou’s tail trashed with excitement. “If we marry her, we’ll get this territory too! Oh, I wonder if she likes to travel..” The red-haired man went off on a tangent about his many fantasies for you while the blonde thought deeply. This was almost too perfect; he had just the plan to corner and ensnare their lovely little prey.

The men stayed at the edge of their territory, for the time being, glad to notice that you had returned to the riverbank almost daily. Sometimes you took your handmaidens; sometimes, you came alone while they trailed back.

They learned that you liked to flip through many a book while basking in the sunlight. A library would be a perfect wedding present for you-they intended to spoil you thoroughly with the dragon’s hoard.

Five days had proven to be enough time for the men to watch you and returned to their clan to make the necessary preparations for your place as their lovely spoiled mate.

---

A fortnight later, a letter from the young prince arrived at your doorstep, addressed to your father, the king.

“An alliance? With the barbarian tribe, that’s unheard of, father. Are you sure it’s not some trick?” You doubted, finding it difficult to understand his request. The barbarian clan was...mysterious, to say the least. Living up in the mountains beyond the river, they were a solitary bunch who were ruthless and never exhibited mercy towards their foes. Not much was know about them because they simply never made alliances or held diplomacy with other clans or kingdoms.

“Perhaps they wish to make allies with the next closest kingdom, my dear.” Your father spoke quietly, his voice wavering as he avoided your eyes. “You’ll go up the mountains to discuss the terms with young Bakugo. An older gentleman like me is not suited for those kinds of traveling conditions.”

Nodding solemnly, preparations were made for your immediate departure. All of your belongings were brought to your carriage, something that struck you as rather odd. Although father did say something about the uncertainty of the amount of time you would spend with the barbarians for the sake of discussion.

With that in mind, you set off into the forest just as the sunset.

---

The journey had taken nearly five days through the rain and snow, your small carriage trudging up the mountainside to the den of the barbarians. As your carriage came to a stop, two men helped you out and down, both possessing a tenderness that didn’t seem possible for them. The blond was bare-chested, even in the snow! He stood at about six feet and had a body that seemed the gods themselves sculpted it.

“Welcome to my clan, your majesty.”

His smirk was wolf-like, eyes bearing down on you like a predator who has caught his unwitting prey. “Come, let’s get you inside to warmth and comfort. I'm sure you’ve had a long journey. Eijirou here will help with your belongings and join us after you rest.”

The prince held out his arm for you to take as the red-head beside you gave a toothy grin before setting off to work. He...he was something more than a man, he had to be! Standing at well over six and a half feet, he was much more muscular than the blonde; Eijirou airs about him more than human. It was inexplicable.

Katsuki gave a gentle tug to your arm before ushering you to the massive tent that stood in the middle of the community of barbarians who looked onto you with glowing pride. What an odd bunch of people, but you couldn't very well judge them now, could you? They simply had a different culture, another way of life.

The tent seemed larger than life on the inside and was impossibly warm. It had had a large bed adorned with piles of pelts and furs near a roaring fireplace. Many bookshelves lined the walls, as well as prized kills and weaponry were displayed. Katsuki led you to a table near the warmth of the fire. How-

“Magic, princess. I am fortunate enough to possess it, as well as many of my clansmen.” Katsuki boasted, clearly prideful of his abilities. He could only hope it impressed you, which it certainly did. “It keeps us warm up here in the dead of winter, which is soon approaching. It protects us, provides for us, all of which it will do for you too.”

Your smile could hardly be contained as you gazed upon the handsome man with wonder. For you, too? Would this he be so kind as to lend you its strength while you struck a deal with them? The barbarians were indeed nothing like the fairytales you had heard about them.

“I thank you for your hospitality, Sir Bakugo. I am truly humbled to be here with you.”

“Call me Katsuki, little one. We should grow familiar with each other before our wedding.”

His wolfish smirk grew wider as he saw the look on your face. Ah, he so loved that look of feeble innocence and confusion on your expression.

“Oh, did your father not tell you?” he chuckled, taking a sip from his cup. “This is an alliance through our union. Suppose you’ll have us, of course. Otherwise, we might have to resort to other means down the mountain.”

Us? Oh, he means-

“Ei, don’t be shy and stand in the doorway. Come greet your bride properly.”

Thundering footsteps came from behind your seated form as Eijirou towered over your much smaller frame.

“Please, tell me you agree to us, my love. We've waited so long for your arrival, won't you let us have you?” A scarred but gentle hand enveloped yours as the dragon shifter kissed it tenderly. “There’s no need to be frightened; we intend to treat you like our queen and spoil you rotten with all the world’s riches. Grant us your blessing.”

How could you deny them? Your kingdom was in danger, yet these men, they lulled you into such a state of comfort and safety. Perhaps it was the magic at work?

“Please, may I think on it?” Your heart battered against your ribcage with fear and excitement. Two men, both for husbands. What a strange culture indeed.

“Only if you let us have you tonight. Give us a chance to prove our worth as not only husbands but as men to you.”

Blood rushed to your face, heating your cheeks as you felt aflame with shame, and to your horror, arousal. They are seasoned men. Indeed they’ll treat you as gently as they have been the whole time?

“O-Only if you are gentle with me. I am...inexperienced.”

That was all the approval they needed. Eijirou, still behind you, swept you up in his arms and onto the bed. Wanting to show some display of his true strength, he ripped your gown clean off your body. Whimpering, your hand flew to grip his forearm fearfully. “Gentle, please, gentle.”

Eijirou shushed you softly, placing a sweet kiss on your trembling lips, hands beginning to wander to down your sides and to your sex. Stroking your clit in small circles, the men relished in your little whines and moans.

“I think I should give you a taste, huh? I haven't eaten all day.” He purred as he dipped down to press kisses to your lips before diving in with his hot tongue, lapping your clit.

Katsuki’s searing kiss swallowed wanton moans and cries. Eijriou’s hands kept your squirming hips firmly in place, positioning you to sit on his face while the blond continued to lay passionate kisses on your lips, neck, and chest.

Teeth sunk into your neck as the prince wasted no time in marking up his newfound territory. Your cries heightened in pitch as you gripped red hair, calling out Eijirou’s name as you came from his overwhelming sucking and slurping of your juices.

“N-no more! Please, that's enough!” Whining, you began to shake when his tongue barely came to half after your cries. Panting and writhing, you peeled off his tongue and laid on the furs next to Katsuki.

“I think that’s enough for this evening; poor thing is already exhausted.” Katsuki chuckled as he dabbed the sweat off your brow and cleaned in between your legs.

“We’ll build up your stamina and be sure to stretch you gently daily.” Eijirou quipped as he took his place next to your side. Up close, you could see how different he really was. Red iridescent scales trailed on his sideburns and h

shoulders. Absentmindedly, you stroke them and wondered if there were more.

“After all, it’s customary to lose your virginity on the wedding night, so need to rush you in right now. Have you made your decision, given Ei’s stellar performance?”

Letting sleep overtake you, your head nodded gently as he rested on Eijirou’s shoulder. The hunt was over and the men could not be more happy with their choice.

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