#his games were my fav BY FAR

[cainternn]

my favorite cheshire cat

[solradguy]

When I wasn't distracted by Chinese? mobile gacha game Alchemy Stars today, I got a bunch of the Dengeki PS pages cleaned. ~30 left plus the 7 I need to rescan, so I'll probably finish this tonight.

[quimichi]

₊❏❜ ⋮ FAR FROM DONE ⌒

warings: NSFW - MDI, breeding, mating press

summary: A little 'breeding' session turned into a seemingly never ending night...

characters: Zayne x F!Reader

word count: 291

a/n: so far he's my fav in the game so I had a blast writing for him ♡

ZAYNE - whos eyes quickly found yours as he tried to figure out if you were feeling as good as he was feeling. But judging by the way those breathy moans and whimpers of his name were flowing out of your mouth, he knew he was doing a good job. But he wanted you to say it. Needed you to say it.

ZAYNE - who pants “does it feel good, hm? when i fuck you like this my love?”, leaving open mouth kisses along your soft neck. His words were laced with insecurity despite his cocky question. He's usually never like this, he knows and so do you. But hes absolutely desperate to know the answer. “feels s-so good.” Your words slur together. the pleasure in your voice caught him off guard and pride swells in his chest, driving him to pound into you harder, grabbing your legs and throwing them over his board shoulders.

ZAYNE - whos the one putting you in the new position. Which angled him deeper, and he knew he was fucking done for. “fuck m’gonna cum again.” he panted out, driven by the need to fill you up more, like he has been the past time. He felt himself getting tired but he doesn't want to stop, not when you were babbling out for him. Breathing wasn’t the priority right now, you were. You always were for him.

ZAYNE - whos vision went white for a moment. Everything  was blank, as he came in spurts, practically moaning out your name as he emptied himself into you, again. The way your walls were fluttering around him prolonged his orgasm and he could barely hold on, roughly gripping onto your waist as his lifeline. but he wasn’t done. He's far from done...

[pandoraslxna]

Lo‘ak x female omatikaya reader x Neteyam

⋆｡° ✮ Minors dni 🔞

⋆｡° ✮ Masterlist

⋆｡° ✮ Warnings: explicit smut, slight cnc warning, restraints, pred/prey play, teacher / student dynamics, in public

⋆｡° ✮ There was almost no way I could think of any other pairing for this prompt than the Sully bros with reader and it’s all thanks to @tallulah477 and her amazing fic "hunting the tawtute" so make sure to give it a read, it’s one of my fav fics 😩🩵

⋆｡° ✮ Translation: sevin = pretty

The distant calls echoing through the forest didn’t belong to either one of them. It belonged to one of the other tsamsiyu [warrior in training] who were participating in todays lesson of hunting down and killing wild prey.

You however, were playing your own game and had moved out of the training area almost immediately, melting into the dense underbrush like a nantang. Because, unlike the others, you weren’t actually hunting. In this special case, it was you that was the prey. You were being hunted.

You'd taken off at a lope, covering distance quickly before slowing and taking care to hide your tracks. You had headed west, remembering a stream they had mentioned to all numeyus [students] the night before, telling you all that this was the border of the training area.

You hadn't seen the slightest sign of either of them and given how long it had been it was likely that they still didn’t know where you were. Better keep it that way, you thought to yourself as you crouched at the base of a tree, making your profile as small as possible. You knew the outcome if they would find you. After all, there was a reason you were their favorite numeyu out of them all and your lessons usually ended just a little differently than it ended for the others. A little more… personal.

For a moment, you were completely still, breathing slowly, silently, listening for anything you could use to pinpoint how close they were. Nothing. You must’ve been so far away from the rest of the group that you couldn’t even hear the other students anymore. So you edged your way through the trees, abandoning the cover of the underbrush in favor of putting even more distance between them. There was a rather thick trunk of a fallen tree ahead, tall enough that you could get a good vantage from the top. You rounded the trunk to get to the other side that was hopefully less covered in moss and easier to climb, and there he was, leaning against it, deceptively causal.

Neteyam.

"Shit", you yelped in surprise and immediately turned to run. You knew you couldn’t outrun him over distance, but you were light and agile, could loose him in the trees if only you could get up there, but he was quicker to react. Neteyam kicked your legs out from under you, tackling you to the ground. The fall knocked the air from your lungs and he immediately dropped his weight onto you, twisting one arm behind your back.

"Caught you, my little numeyu." Irritatingly smug. 

He leaned close and you could feel his breath on the back of your neck, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear and you knew exactly what was about to follow.

"Come on, Neteyam, please", you squirmed, "Let me go."

Footsteps crunched behind a few bushes and before you knew it, your other karyu (teacher) crouched down next to your face and brushed a strand of stray hair behind your ear.

"Too late for that, baby." 

You bared your fangs at Lo‘ak, barely able to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

Both of them then flipped you over, before Neteyam placed your hands near the top of your head, pinned your wrists there with his knees while he bound them together. They were still keeping their thoughts to themselves, but Lo‘aks shit-eating grin wasn't hard to interpret. It caused Neteyam to chuckle, brushing his fingertips over your cheek as he shook his head in disappointment, "Poor thing. You really thought you could outrun us. You have so much left to learn."

You rolled your eyes at him, testing the strength of your restraints once more and Lo‘ak grinned even wider. Neteyam then leaned over you, brought his mouth down rough against yours, hot and slick. His tongue pushed into your mouth and you couldn’t help but moan into the kiss. "I think it’s time we claim our prize for hunting such special prey, don’t you agree?" He spoke against your lips, to which you nodded in agreement, already drunk of lust just from a kiss.

The oldest of the two pulled back, the kiss all too brief and flicked his eyes up to his brother who kneeled between your thighs. "Hold her still, bro", Lo‘ak says to him.

You lift your head up as much as you could to look at him. Lo’ak then bent over you, brushing his lips over yours, licking at your mouth, your chin. He caught your lower lip between his sharp teeth, distracting you from the way he harshly yanked your loincloth off of you. 

Neteyam reached forward and hooked his hands under your knees, and then Lo‘ak was pushing into you, one long steady drive, splitting you open, nestling himself deep inside you. You whined and he moaned with you, the sound rising to a harsh gasp as he drew back and thrust into you harder, smug grin finally sliding from his face as his mouth went slack with pleasure. The younger brother didn’t keep his movement slow for very long, as Neteyam passed your thighs into his arms so he could use them as leverage to fuck you hard and fast and deep, making you cry out with every thrust.

Your own mouth soon fell open too, just to be filled to the brim seconds later when Neteyam pushed his leaking tip past your spit slicked lips.

"That’s right, sevin", he groaned lowly once you snapped out of your lustful haze and started swirling your tongue around his length as best as you could from your current position. "Just like that, fuck." His hips soon begin to move on their own accord, thrusting into the warm wetness of your mouth while his brother seemed to let loose all that pent up adrenaline from chasing you down.

"Shit, baby", Lo‘ak moans, throwing his head back in bliss as he feels your walls squeeze around his length. When he glances back down at you, he’s met with the sight of your pretty pussy creaming around his cock, making a mess where the two of you are fused together. "You’re so tight. So wet for us. Dirty girl, loves being our prey so much she’s drenching my fucking cock", he chuckles.

You make wet sound around Neteyams cock, slurping the salty pre-cum leaking from his tip as if it’s a reward for your efforts. One of his hands tangles itself into your hair then, helping you move your head over his length as he begins to fuck your mouth at a faster pace. Your eyes remain fixed on his, blinking the tears away even as he repeatedly hit the back of your throat. "I won’t last if you keep that up, sevin", he growled, his breathing heavy. "Will you be a good girl and swallow it all for me?"

You hum your response, the vibrations against his cock sending a shiver up his spine and a moan tumbles from his parted lips, alongside whispered curses. The sight alone makes you clench harder around Lo‘ak, both of them seemingly reaching their peak soon while you were also not very far away from your pleasure high.

What sends you over the edge is Neteyams hand reaching between your thighs and rolling your oversensitive clit between two fingers. You cry out around his cock, Lo‘ak fucking you through your orgasm with precision, aiming to hit that sweet spot deep inside you that he knows will make you see stars. They both guide you through that high together, their hands not leaving your skin for even a second until both men loose themselves inside you, filling you with their seed as soft praises and low groans are being whispered between you and them.

Excitement fills every fiber of your being once you’re untied, redressed and sent off to the rest of the group with teasing claps to your ass and a wink by your teachers. Their filthy promises for tomorrow’s lesson about handling knives makes you clench your thighs in anticipation, and you can’t wait for them to turn this lesson into another very personal experience, just for their special little numeyu.

[dottores]

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine.

notes: GUYS THIS IS MY FAV CHAPTER IVE WRITTEN SO FAR HDFISHDFSUAFDSDF

THE TIES THAT BIND

It was him. Distantly, his words resounded through your head but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t understand what he had asked you—his words sounded garbled and clear at the same time, as if he was speaking in an ancient language you couldn’t decipher. 

It was him, your soulmate, the man you had been waiting your whole life to finally meet, the man that the gods had tied you with.

The man that ignored you all of these years no matter how hard you tried. 

The man that attacked you at the inn. 

Any elation you might have felt whittled away the longer you stared at him, anger and anxiety beginning to take hold instead. What had he said? The Second Harbinger? You felt unnerved, you had a feeling that you would somehow run into your soulmate while trying to find the evidence to condemn your stepfather but you had no idea he would be… this. 

This is good, the more logical part of you tried to push through the turmoil of emotions you felt, you can use his position, this is your in. 

But nothing about you was logical right now—part of you wanted to pull away, part of you wanted to slap him, and part of you wanted to throw yourself in his arms and grant yourself the warmth you’d been denied for so long. The divide in what you wanted to do had you frozen in place, unable to do anything. 

Dance with me, he had said—phrased as a question but somehow you knew it wasn’t one. 

Thin fingers wrapped around your other arm, Artem forcing your attention back to him, a worried expression directed toward you. “You don’t have to,” he said, and you swore the temperature in the room dropped at his words—maybe it was just a figment of your imagination due to the eerily cold feeling that swept through you, something that was clearly his and not yours, but from the way Artem and his cousins tensed, you thought it might not be. 

He was angry, you couldn’t see it on his face—you could barely see his face, his mask hiding it from view, but you could feel it in your gut, an emotion that wasn’t yours pushing to the surface and threatening to break through. But it was more than just anger: if you didn’t know any better, you might’ve thought it was jealousy… a part of you wanted to feed into it to test the theory but you had a distinct feeling that would end with Artem being killed and he had been nothing but kind and helpful to you and you didn’t want to risk him like that. 

“It’s okay,” you said tightly, a thin and unkind smile edging at your lips as you pulled your arm from his grasp and let Dottore lead you out to the large, empty floor in the center of the room, all eyes on the two of you. 

Your chest constricted as the Doctor pulled you just a bit closer than the acceptable dancing distance as the two of you found a place on the tiled floor—one hand sliding behind you, fingers dipping low to the small of your back, while the fingers of his other hand intertwined with yours, a more intimate version of the palm-to-palm expected in the Snezhnayan Waltz. 

You thought you should feel different. You thought that your chest should be light and you thought your heart should be skipping beats, adoring and enthralled, lost in the moment of finally meeting him… but all you could muster was a sense of dread. This man had never cared for you before—not to meet you, not to get to know you, not even to give into your childish desire to play the tugging game with him. In his eyes, you had probably forced his hand by coming here, even if it hadn’t been your intention.

“What game are you playing?” he asked, voice cold and unfriendly, but you were barely paying attention to him now, gaze wandering as other pairs began to make their way to the floor at the sight of you and Dottore, the necessary signal they needed to know it was now acceptable to dance. “Dance with me.”

“I am,” you replied, your surroundings blurring again as you focused back on him. “I’m not playing games.”

You were sure that the smile on his lips would not have met his eyes were they visible. “Yet you are here,” Dottore replied, the ensemble getting louder and the chatter across the floor masking your conversation from unwanted ears. “Somehow managing to track me down so you can force me into acknowledging you.”

You couldn’t bite back the scoff that rose to your chest. “How self important,” you said coolly. “Do you really think I have any interest in meeting you after all the years you spent ignoring me?”

You did, you corrected yourself silently, but he didn’t have to know that. It was humiliating enough to admit to yourself that even after all of the blatant neglect and lack of interest, you still had longed for meeting him, no matter how far down you might’ve pushed that desire. 

His lip twitched—the only physical reaction you managed to draw from him thus far but even then, you couldn’t tell if he was irritated or surprised. “Then why are you here?” he asked and for a moment, you regretted your quick tongue. You should have gone along with the lovesick soulmate act so that you would have an excuse as to why you had come to Snezhnaya but you were more focused on your pride than your mission. 

Now, you fumbled—a damning mistake—as you said: “None of your business.”

“Ah, but alas it is my business,” Dottore did not fumble like you did, an empty smile painted on his lips as he watched you from beneath the mask. You felt uncomfortable, you didn’t like not being able to see people’s eyes when you spoke to them. “You see, I was sent to figure out why you are here and if your answer is not to my liking, I am meant to… dispose of you. Now, if you would like me to help you, I suggest you answer my question.”

You took in a sharp breath—one that you couldn’t quite hide from him as you realized that you had been wrong. You had hoped that the eyes you had felt on you earlier were just him, that he had been the one to recognize you, but this confirmed that was not the case. The other Harbingers knew who you were and suddenly, the room felt all the more suffocating. 

Dottore leaned down, lips brushing your ear and breath warm against your skin. “Don’t you feel their eyes on you?” he murmured. “They’re waiting for my decision, I do implore you to start speaking.”

He leaned back just a bit but now you couldn’t keep your eyes trained on his face, too aware of all of the gazes set on you. You could feel Artem’s eyes heavy on you from the other side of the room, they hadn’t left your body once since Dottore had led you to the dancefloor, following the two of you as you spun across the floor in step with the other partners, but he wasn’t the only one. 

Your eyes flickered behind Dottore to where the dark haired girl dressed in white was sitting at the piano, fingers flying across the keys as she played an eerie tune that didn’t quite match the tempo or energy of the Snezhnayan Waltz—the lace over her eyes blocked them from sight but her head was turned in the direction of the two of you. A taller woman with silvery hair leaned on the instrument next to her, blatantly watching the two of you. 

There were too many eyes on you—even who you could assume were newly promoted Fatui captains were glancing your way, the other pairs on the dancefloor kept sparing looks in your direction, giving you a wide berth. You thought you were used to the feeling of being watched, after all in Fontaine, you couldn’t even step outside your quarters without the eyes of justice bearing down on you.

Dottore suddenly cleared his throat, forcing your attention back to him. “Is it not common courtesy to give your dancing partner your full attention?” he drawled. 

“Clearly you’re undeserving of my attention considering you can’t even hold it,” your tongue lashed before you could think. Instead of regretting your words, you doubled down. “It appears you’re not fond of being ignored, how fascinating.” 

How hypocritical, you didn’t have to speak what you meant for him to understand. Dottore let out a huff of amusement but you knew very well that he was not amused if the way his hand tensed on the small of your back had anything to say about it. 

“How ungrateful,” Dottore said quietly, the empty smile on his lips not faltering for even a second, “even when I’m going out of my way to try to make sure you stay alive.”

“We both know that you only want me alive for your own sake,” you countered, taking a small leap in speculation. You knew he didn’t care for you but the consequences of losing a soulmate could range from dire to lethal, if you knew anything about him, you knew that was not something he would want to risk. 

“Clearly I did not ignore you well enough.” 

The smile finally fell—he didn’t like that you could read him the way that you were, although you would argue that you weren’t reading him at all, just placing together the few puzzle pieces he had left for you to complete a small section, the majority of the puzzle was still empty. 

“You-” you began, but you were forced to cut yourself off, eyes darting down as you realized that Dottore had purposefully taken a wrong step in the waltz—subtle enough so that others wouldn’t notice his fault, but just enough so that if you took the correct step, you would twist your ankle over his foot. 

He’s trying to make a fool out of you, fury flooded you at the realization, shifting your foot just to the right so that you could avoid his. The next step of the dance, a half-spin of a turn, was jerky and sharp because of it, veering off track and into the path of a nearby woman and her partner, who were forced to scramble out of your way or risk drawing the Doctor’s ire.

Dottore’s lip twitched up when he realized that you hadn’t fallen for his trick and the waltz continued smoothly, returning to the graceful spins and turns and steps that the two of you had been dancing in tune with before his attempt at making you humiliate yourself. 

“I’ve been patient enough,” he said. “It’s time for you to answer my question.”

Your lip curled in annoyance, searching for an answer to give him before your silence became prolonged and suspicious.

“I’m looking for something,” you said simply. This time, you didn’t have to look down to know he had taken another false step—instead of having to shift at the last second and fall into another jarring turn, you altered the direction of the turn, spinning out just a bit further than was expected of the dance and forcing him to follow. 

“For what?” Dottore didn’t give you a second to recuperate or think and you forced yourself not to bite the inside of your cheek, irritated at the game he was playing no matter how much he might deny playing one should you ask. He was forcing you to focus more on the dance with his purposefully wrong steps so you couldn’t concentrate on coming up with coherent lies. 

For what? That was the question. What should you tell him? The truth? What would he do with it? Could you trust him? You doubted it, but you could trust in his self-preservation at least—you didn’t think he would do anything to damn you because that would mean damning himself. But would he get in your way? Maybe, if only to see you stumble. 

Finally, you spoke, and the words felt weighted on your tongue, mouth dry: “The Fatui killed my father.”

“And you’ve come for evidence. How noble,” Dottore mocked you—if he hated how you could deduce that he didn’t care for your survival beyond for his own sake, you hated even more that he had put together your whole reason for being in Snezhnaya just from the one sentence. “The Hydro Archon is so arrogant that she fails to see foreign threats within her own walls, forcing you to venture into a den of wolves to acquire the proof yourself. What a magnificent god.”

Again, you found sharp words leaving your lips in defense of your nation and Archon: “Perhaps the Hydro Archon is not the only god blind to threats,” you noted off-handedly at the hypocrisy, dancing around another targeted step and forcing another pair of dancers to dodge the two of you—the Hydro Archon might be blind the Snezhnayan spy that was your stepfather, but at least there wasn’t an entire organization working beneath her nose and in her court. 

“What exactly does that mean?” Dottore asked—was that confirmation that the Harbingers were unaware of the masked group that had approached you and the aristocrats? Or was it just Dottore trying to figure out how much you knew? Or maybe it was both. 

“Take it as you will,” you answered, eyes narrowing as instead of continuing the dance, he came to a stop in the middle of the floor.

His hand was still pressed to your lower back, holding your body close to his even as you tried to step away. You hated how you had to turn your head up to look at him and you hated the smirk that spread across his face as he looked down at you. Distantly, you noticed that the music had come to an end as the ensemble prepared for another dance. 

“You’re not what I expected,” he said after a moment of silence, releasing your hand only to bring his to your face when you looked away. He used two fingers beneath your chin to tilt your head up in his direction, forcing you to look at him. “I’ll find you again.”

A promise or a threat? You couldn’t tell, throat thick and swollen as he stood straight again, stepping away from you and looking behind you. You looked over your shoulder, eyes falling upon Artem as he walked up to the two of you. 

“Your second dance?” he asked quietly, holding his hand out toward you. You took the escape gratefully and yet somehow, a part of you felt empty as soon as you stepped away from Dottore, a primal and fundamental part of you knew you were meant to be with him and was unhappy with your decision.

You wondered if he felt it too. 

“Are you okay?” Artem questioned as soon as your hand was in his and you stood in position for the next dance—an acceptable distance, unlike how close Dottore had drawn you in. 

You glanced back to look at him as you murmured out a ‘yes’ to Artem, but he was already gone.

His hands were tingling. 

This wasn't right, he wanted to spit out in protest of the way his body was reacting to you—itching to walk back over and rip you away from the Snezhnayan aristocrat who had the audacity to lay hands on what was his. 

His. The word echoed through his head, condemning—he was already beginning thinking like them, like a mortal, an irrational beast that cared for naught but personal pleasure, latching onto someone with the barest interaction. But no matter how much he tried to deny the attachment, his body was betraying him, begging him to turn back for another dance so he could feel your skin against his again.

He thought it might be different, he had abandoned his original body for an artificial one. He thought it could lessen the effects of the bond but he should’ve known better—having an artificial body did not change the fact that his mark had appeared on him, it didn’t change the fact that there was a thread connecting him to you. 

He should’ve known this would only make it worse. 

Dottore didn’t dare look back, no matter how much his body ached for one last look, he needed to retain some semblance of control over himself and he knew that if he looked back now, he would not like what he saw. His teeth ground together at the thought, scraping against his tongue. He imagined the aristocrat’s hand inching down your back, his fingers intertwined with yours. He imagined your body pressed close to his—a slower song was playing, a more intimate one, one that he should be dancing with you to.

As soon as the final thought crossed his mind, he nearly rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he made his way toward the other Harbingers.

“You looked like you enjoyed yourself,” one said, voice cold and mocking, Dottore’s eyes lifted to Arlecchino.

“Thoroughly,” Dottore replied, dry and sarcastic to mask the fact that yes, he had enjoyed his dance with you.

You were not what he expected. Your tongue was sharp and violent whereas he had thought you to be a docile noble girl, sheltered in the palace of Fontaine City. He could still see that part of you, thinly veiled behind the anger in your eyes; the part of you that longed for the sanctity of the bond between a fated pair, the part of you that still had hope things could work out. He wondered if that was the part of you that you showed to everyone else, the gentleness and the kindness. He thought so, if the way you looked at Artem Melnyk had anything to say about it. 

Then, he wondered if your violence was reserved only for him—for some reason, the thought left him pleased, smothering the way the corner of his lips twitched up. 

“Well?” Sandrone said sharply, garnering the attention of the Harbingers in the area. To Dottore’s absolute displeasure, he noticed that both the Balladeer and the Friar had come closer to listen in, two wolves drawn in by the scent of blood. 

You could keep up with him too, every attempt he had made to make you stumble, you caught and readjusted. He had never met anyone that could keep up with him the way you were able to—most didn’t even dare to try, backing down at the mere sight of him, and those that did tended to not be able to hold their bravado for long—even if it was just boldness because you knew that as your soulmate, it’d be unlikely he would do anything to put you at risk.

“A fawn,” Dottore told her coolly, “just as I said. You wasted my time, and my patience. You can explain to the Jester why I decided to leave the event early.”

Dottore thought you were closer to a wolf pup than a fawn, bearing your teeth against greater predators instead of fleeing because you thought yourself more dangerous than you really were—he wasn’t going to tell them that though.

Sandrone did not look convinced at his words. “Perhaps I should go talk to her,” she said doubtfully. 

Unamused, Dottore turned his full attention onto her. “You doubt me?” he asked, an edge to his tone that he dared her to push further. Sandrone looked at him but didn’t respond, he continued: “All she cared for was her first dance with her fiancé being interrupted. Air-headed and dimwitted—whatever you think that girl is, she is not.”

Dottore studied Sandrone from beneath his mask, wondering if she would push even further, but she only shook her head and walked away in the direction of the Captain, clearly unhappy but dropping it, for now at least. 

Perhaps the Hydro Archon is not the only god blind to threats, your words ran through his head again as Sandrone pushed past him. What did you mean? It was a dig at the Tsaritsa, that much was certain but what threat was the Fatui missing that was within their own walls? Could it be the aristocrats? If so, you were a fool to think that they weren’t addressing the more hostile families already… but somehow, Dottore knew that you were talking about something else, something far more worrisome. 

… and that begged the question of how you even knew of it when they, clearly, did not.  

Finally, Dottore’s gaze drew back to the dance floor where you were dancing slowly with the dark-haired aristocrat, arms draped around his shoulders as you swayed to the slow music. You were talking quietly to him, hushed, heads leaned into each other so no one could overhear the two of you. You looked far more at ease with him than you had been with Dottore, your shoulders lax instead of tense, your body loose instead of stiff. That feeling from before—ugly and green—resurfaced. 

“Sandrone,” Dottore finally said, stopping the lower-ranked Harbinger in her tracks, “if you’re so suspicious of her, then why don’t we keep her in the palace for a few days under observation? That way, we can figure out whether or not Fontaine is declaring war or not and handle it duly.”

A risk, Dottore noted, they’re going to wonder why he cares so much, but he thought it was a worthy one. He could knock two birds with one stone: separate his soulmate from her apparent fiancé and try to figure out what the cryptic comment meant. He couldn’t help but notice the long look exchanged by Arlecchino and Brighella, as if they knew something that he did not.

Sandrone hesitated, eyes narrowing for a moment before she nodded, “I think that’s a good idea.”

“And who, exactly, is going to care for this girl?” Brighella, voice high and reedy, interjected himself into the conversation. “Heh… if you’d like-”

“I’ll do it,” another voice interrupted as fury knotted Dottore’s insides so intensely that he thought he might lash out at the vulture. Pantalone was the one to step forward, eyes turned upward and a thin smile pulled tight across his lips, “I’d like to pick at her brains for her thoughts on the aristocrats anyway. I’m sure she’ll have some sort of insight.”

Dottore watched Pantalone carefully, trying to figure out what sort of game he was playing. He made sure that she wasn’t killed on the spot before—not that Dottore would have let that happen, but he would’ve been forced to reveal who exactly you were to him and he didn’t want to open up that weakness. He wanted something and from the way his smile fell and his violet eyes went cold, looking at Dottore as the Harbingers began talking amongst each other, he knew it was nothing good. 

Irritated, Dottore cast a cold look in your direction—one way or another, he was constantly being backed into a corner because of you. But looking at you was a mistake, evidently, because the annoyance swelled as he watched the aristocrat smile at you as you swooped under his arm in a dramatic spin.

Dottore shook his head as he looked away, rolling his eyes beneath his mask as he stifled the vile emotions rearing their head at the sight. As he turned his attention back to the discussion at hand, listening to them talk about the approaching missions, Dottore wondered if he should try to make his exit now, leave Pantalone to deal with her now that he had kindly offered to—the less interaction with her, the better, he thought, even though his body shrieked in protest—and he wanted to get back to the lab anyway. The Theta segment was down there alone and quite frankly, he didn’t trust him around his stuff. 

Alas, he did not get the chance to slip away. As he moved to turn, he noticed that Pantalone was nodding for him to follow.

Dottore bit back a sigh—you, Pantalone, the other Harbingers—this was all going to cut into his research, he had a feeling that he wasn’t going to get anything done for quite a bit. 

“What was that all about?” Artem asked you quietly as the music began to pick up again, masking your voices—it was a slower dance, one that was far less demanding than the waltz with the Doctor, who had you struggling to keep up mentally and physically. 

You were lucky that Miss Elyna had been so strict with your dancing lessons, not only did she prepare you by teaching you all of the popular dances amongst aristocrats across the seven nations but she also forced you to know how to dance with an incompetent partner so that the you were not made to look like a fool in public. 

Dottore was not an incompetent partner by any means, but he surely was a malicious one. 

“They’re suspicious of me,” you said softly, watching his expression twist into one that bordered between shocked and horrified, confirming what you already knew—you were not in a good place. 

But he didn’t know that you weren’t in the worst place, you couldn’t tell him about your relationship to Dottore. You didn’t know how he would react and you needed him on your side for the duration of this event. You figured that Dottore wouldn’t let them kill you, at least for his own sake, but there were fates worse than death and the thought of that made your skin crawl.

“After this song, we’ll head over to my father, I’ll ask him what to do,” Artem said, nodding to himself. “They can’t do anything, not without risking our support and our support is the only support they have amongst all of the Snezhnayan nobles. So unless they want every single aristocratic family against them…”

Your eyes drew across the room briefly, at the captains and the elite members of the Fatui lingering around the floor and dancing with their partners, at the Harbingers still lurking on the outskirts of the room, some still looking in your direction. There were so many of them and you didn’t have to face them in combat to know that they were all strong, the Harbingers alone reeked of power.

“... if you tell your father, he’ll be upset,” you finally said, voice low—you hadn’t phrased it as a question but you supposed it was one.

“He’ll be livid,” Artem confirmed, jaw tightening. “They… they all think that I’m going to propose to you soon—they were upset that I hadn’t introduced you sooner but they’ve been waiting for me to get married for three years now. If the Fatui try to do something to you…”

Maybe you shouldn’t say anything then, you wanted to say, but the words were stuck in your mouth. The Fatui were strong, you thought again. Artem had claimed that they host these events as a show of power, to force the aristocrats to understand just who they were dealing with, and even from this glimpse you knew that the threat the Fatui posed was beyond anything that the elites of the Fontaine court and the Hydro Archon imagined. 

You wondered, then, why did they not take control of Snezhnaya through sheer force alone? They could do it, surely, the Harbingers themselves could probably handle it on their own. You figured that the aristocrats held a lot of sway amongst the common people—if it was anything like the structure of the Fontaine countryside where each town was centered around one of the aristocrats' estates—and from there, you could assume that the Fatui did not want to rule their own people through fear. 

But you feared that if push came to shove, the Fatui would have no issue slamming their iron fist down upon the people of Snezhnaya and if that was the case, you didn’t want that blood on your hands because Artem had rushed to the defense of a girl he barely knows… especially because you thought if he knew who exactly your soulmate was, he wouldn’t be so quick to help you. 

“Don’t tell them,” you finally said, mouth dry, glancing away as you continued, “whatever happens, I’ll deal with it. Don’t risk pissing the Fatui off even more.”

Artem’s brows knit together. “What?” he asked, voice hushed. “You have no idea what they’re capable of, what they’ll do to you and if the Doctor of all Harbingers is interested in you then-”

“I’m not a helpless girl, Artem,” you said sharply, careful to keep your voice low. “I will do what I must to survive, you need to focus on…”

Your family, the other nobles, this organization that’s pulling all of the strings. Let me deal with this, it’s my mission.

Artem didn’t look happy, shaking his head again. “I didn’t say you were helpless,” he said, lowering his voice even more as he leaned his head down to you. To all others, you thought it probably looked romantic, but you could feel his arms tense around you, “but you can’t do this alone. They’ll find you out and-and you don’t want to know what they’ll do when they do.”

There was a haunted expression on his face, as if he had personal experience with the Fatui and what they would do to the people that actively worked against them. There was a pit in your stomach as you looked away—guilt, anxiety, maybe something else or a combination of both, knowing who your soulmate was and how even though Artem was terrified of him, he still was trying to defend you against him. 

“I need to use the restroom to freshen up,” you said, changing the subject abruptly—you didn’t want to talk about this anymore, if the Fatui were already onto you, you were running out of time to do what you needed to do. 

You didn’t want to rely on Dottore, not if you didn’t have to. 

Artem stared at you for a long moment before sighing, arm slipping around your waist as he guided you back to the front of the room toward the wide double doors that led to the entrance hall, “There’s only two ways in and out of here, the only other way…”

You glanced backward to another door on the opposite side of the room—the only way to get to it would be to walk past several Harbingers and that was simply not going to happen, not when a few of them were clearly suspicious of you already. You could only hope that they missed you slipping out of the hall but somehow, you doubted they would. 

Reaching the doors, you raised your eyebrows when neither of the Fatui subordinates moved out of your way. Artem stepped forward, slightly in front of you.

“Is there an issue?” Artem asked coldly, motioning to the door. “Are the hinges not working properly? They seemed just fine before. My lady needs to freshen up.”

The two men exchanged a long look with one another before shifting out of the way, albeit a bit reluctantly. You looked back at Artem, squeezing his arm, “I’ll be right back.”

And if I’m not, don’t come looking. 

“They’re a lovely couple, hm?” Pantalone smiled as the two of them walked the length of the ballroom. Dottore’s jaw clenched, irritation skyrocketing when he continued, “They look very happy together, don’t they?”

“Very,” Dottore agreed dryly, not letting the man get a rise out of him like he wanted, but unlike Pantalone, he did not look in your direction. 

Instead, he kept his gaze trained forward, mind-racing as he tried to figure out what Pantalone might want from him. If he had to guess, it was going to be something with the residue research and creating a stronger delusion for him but the man was as unpredictable as the wind—there was no telling what demands would spew from his mouth. 

“Do you think that’s why she was ignoring you?” Pantalone asked, trying to gossip like a pair of old wives as if they weren’t talking about his soulmate. “She finally found someone better and doesn’t want anything to do with you?” 

Dottore didn’t think that was the case. He finally looked back over to where you were dancing with the aristocrat. You looked comfortable with him, but not happy, and you looked safe with him, but not hopeful—not the way you had been with him, at least. You had been tense and stressed but there was no denying that lingering hope that swam behind your eyes, as much as you tried to hide it with your sharp tongue and harsh jabs. 

Dottore had never been able to read people well—he compensated with intimidation—but it came naturally when looking at you, probably because of the bond. He didn’t know whether or not to be appreciative of it or to resent it because you could clearly read him as well as he could read you and the thought of that left him uncomfortable.

“No,” Dottore finally said after a few moments of silence. “I think she was ignoring me to be petty.”

It appears you’re not fond of being ignored. How fascinating. 

He had recognized the underlying message, calling him a hypocrite—he wouldn’t put it past you to have spent the past two weeks ignoring him after he finally reached out to you just to be spiteful.

“Not quite the air-headed and dimwitted fawn you described to the others then,” Pantalone drawled, smile widening as he finally looked at Dottore. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t say anything… but there’s no way the others will fall for the facade once they realize who she is to you. Anyone fated to you is bound to be closer to monster than man.”

That was unacceptable. His chest tightened at his words, a foul feeling swirling his insides. It was not about the implied insult to him, nor was it about the subtle threat of the other Harbingers finding out who you were to him—it was the insult to you, the mocking comment Pantalone made calling you closer to monster than man. That was not acceptable.

And then he realized what he was doing, getting defensive over you for no reason at all. Careful, he told himself, this was what he hadn’t wanted. 

He pushed it away, again, focusing on the issue at hand. 

“Was she everything you hoped?” Pantalone pressed, a sardonic smile twisting his lips as he watched you.

More, Dottore answered silently. You were beyond anything he had imagined, but he kept his answer to himself, “What do you want, Regrator?”

“Fair exchange,” Pantalone spoke of the policy he had lived by since the day Dottore met him and Dottore knew that he wasn’t going to like this. Pantalone’s eyes gleamed at the prospect of it, that thin thread of control waning as it always did when he got the upperhand on someone. “I am owed. Our previous exchange has been fulfilled—you brought me into the Fatui and helped me obtain my position, I gave you better funding and support in meetings. This is the start of a new exchange. Twice now, I’ve protected her and now, I’ve brought her in so that you weren’t exposed. I am owed.”

“What do you want?” Dottore repeated again, unperturbed by Pantalone’s demeanor, wanting to get this conversation over with. “The residue research? One of my segments to help with your missions?”

“The prototype for the new delusion,” Pantalone said. Dottore raised his eyebrows—it’s a prototype for a reason, on his lips but he decided against it. If the Regrator wanted to use the prototype, all the better for Dottore: he would be able to study how he reacts to it, and how it reacts to him. “And a branch of the Northland Bank in Fontaine City.”

Dottore tilted his head, “How exactly do you expect me to help with that? Just take one of the segments and tell them what to do.”

Pantalone smiled again but this time, it was colder—the same smile he directed at the other Harbingers when they pissed him off. His head turned in the direction of where you were dancing with the aristocrat and then he asked, voice amused: “You didn’t think I was helping her for your sake, did you?”

There it is. 

Dottore stared at Pantalone emptily from beneath his mask. He had expected this from the moment he had initially offered his help in finding you, he knew there would be a catch but he did not think it would have to do with you. 

A branch of the Northland Bank set up in Fontaine City. What would that entail from you? Information on the court that only the upper echelon of aristocrats would know? Weaknesses and holes in their defenses? Either way, it would entail betraying your nation and he had a feeling you wouldn’t do that… which meant he would somehow have to get the information from you to pass it on to Pantalone, which meant he would have to betray you. For some reason, the thought left him feeling uneasy. 

“Very well,” he agreed. “Consider it done.”

Pleased, Pantalone looked back out to the ballroom floor.

“Oh?” he noted. “She’s on the move.”

Dottore’s head snapped to the side, eyes searching the floor until they landed on where the aristocrat was leading you through the hall and to the entrance of the room.

What were you doing? He had a bad feeling, exhaling as he waited. Were you really going to go out and try to find the evidence you wanted now? Right after he had told you that the Harbingers have their eye on you? You couldn’t be that stupid… unless you were trying to rush to do it before he could get involved but that would be ridiculous.

Dottore’s eyes followed you until the doors of the ballroom shut behind you and you were gone from sight. He didn’t bother explaining to Pantalone where he was going, turning on his heel and made his way to the door on the opposite side of the room, closer to where he and Pantalone were standing.

The Fatui subordinates scattered at his approach, allowing an easy exit for him. Pantalone followed, much to his distaste, but he supposed this way it didn’t look as suspicious. As soon as he pushed the door open, a rush of cold air met him—a welcome escape from the stuffiness of the ballroom and the endless chatter of the aristocrats and the music and all of the overwhelming noise.

The hall was dimly lit by candles mounted on the walls, there was no one in the hall besides them—Dottore assumed that you had turned down the hall on the right instead, heading to the washroom. 

Was that what you were doing? Faking going to the washroom so you could slip away and search? Why weren’t their subordinates lining the halls to make sure people couldn’t do that? 

“Are you going after her?” Pantalone asked, amused, slinking up beside him. Dottore gave him a cold look from the corner of his eye. “Relax, I won’t interfere.”

Dottore wasn’t sure how much he believed that but he didn’t have time to call him out for it. He wanted to get to you before you did something stupid. He gave Pantalone one last look before making his way down the hall in the direction of the washroom, turning left down two different halls until he was on the opposite side of the ballroom—just as he came to a stop outside of the door, it opened.

“There you are.”

REBLOGS APPRECIATED

[taintedtort]

prompt ✧ you don’t say i love you back

characters ✧ xiao, wanderer

warnings ✧ gn!reader, none!

a/n ✧ my app is finally fixed, so here’s this. it’s one of my fav prompts! (might do this again with more characters, i wanted to get a work out cus it’s been a week since i’ve posted)

XIAO

✧ didn’t even notice the first time

"i have to go, i love you."

he mumbled the loving phrase to you before vanishing, not even giving you time to say it back. you shrugged it off and decided to keep your plan going a little bit longer, just to see what his reaction would be if he did catch on.

after he finally arrived back at the inn and entered your room, you greeted him with a smile. it was late so you were already in bed ready to sleep, so he fell onto the bed next to you with a grunt. you’d made it clear to him in the past that you prefer he sleep with you, so he tries is best to at least be in the bed while you fall asleep.

you asked him how his day went and he gave you the same run down he always did. he didn’t let you chat with him for too long though, insisting you go to sleep so your mortal body can get the rest it needs.

after the lights were turned out and you were both under the covers, he muttered the phrase to you once more. you hummed in acknowledgment, a small smirk playing on your lips. you didn’t hear from him after that, so you fell asleep.

when you woke up, he was sitting at the end of the bed, staring off into space. you nudged him with your foot, letting him know you were awake. he turned to look at you with a furrowed brow and a frown on his lips.

"i love you."

he delivered the words accusingly, like he was calling you out on not saying it last night. you knew you’d been caught, but kept your game going anyway. you nodded at his words before stretching your tired limbs out. you saw his face drop further at your lack of response, making you fight the smile that threatened to spread across your own.

he stood up from the bed, causing you to sit up as well. you were nervous that you made him upset, but he circled back around to your side of the bed.

once he reached you, he grabbed your jaw in his hand, making you look up at him. a confused mutter of his name left your lips.

"i love you."

he said it more firmly that time, his eyes boring into yours. butterflies filled your stomach and your lips parted. you mumbled it back that time, not being able to continue your prank.

once he heard the words leave your mouth, he bent down and kissed you. after he pulled away, you giggled at him, explaining it was only a joke and you didn’t think he’d get that worked up about it. your confession made his ears warm as he turned away from you.

"do all mortals act this way or is it just you?"

WANDERER

✧ thought you didn’t hear him

he‘d just gotten back from a long and grueling adventure, completely wiped out. you, of course, were there to help him relax and unwind from his stressful day. so, there he lay, his head in your lap with the rest of his body spread out over the far end of the couch. his eyes were closed, but he wasn’t sleeping yet, just relishing in the feeling of your fingers on his scalp.

you heard him quietly mumble a thank you followed with an even quieter declaration of love. you hummed at him, not responding to his words. you did not expect his eyes to snap open though.

"did you hear me?"

he was staring up at you blankly, no look of hurt or anger on his face. however, when you nodded a frown appeared.

"are you sure? what did i say?"

you must’ve heard him wrong— there’s no way. you always say i love you back. you know how hard it is for him to verbally communicate his feelings, so he knows you must’ve just not heard him.

when you repeated his words back to him, he felt his heart drop a little. so you had heard him. he didn’t want to let you see his insecurities, so he deflected.

"and? say it back."

he saw the ghost of a smile appear on your face at his words and instantly knew everything was fine, you were just being difficult. you seriously scared him!

when you stayed silent, a deeper frown formed on his face and his brows furrowed. he was laying on his back staring up at you, causing his bangs to fall to the side and show his forehead. that, mixed with his expression, was too cute. you couldn’t help but fall into suppressed laughter.

at the sound of your laughing, he sat up off your lap, annoyance radiating off him. a laugh filled gasp of his name left your lips as you grasped onto his shoulder. you apologized through giggles and finally told him you loved him back, then sealed your words with a kiss to his cheek.

he grumbled about how infuriating you are, but settled back into his spot on your lap.

"that was so pointless, just say it back."

[iwashie]

MELTING MAGNETS

!! mdni, f!reader(25+), age gap(10/15 years), male characters 35+ !!

Older man who worked hard to have the life he has and couldn’t get a love, keep a love or find someone his age willing to share and build with him and now he’s given up on it, living life as it comes, without much expectation. Older man tired of everything.

Older man tired of everything, believing that he was going to die alone, until he exchanged glances at you and his heart pounded again, his body reacted as if it was being turned on after a long time of no use.

“I’m old enough to be your parent.” "You’re nothing mine, but you can be."

Older man who, every time he convinced himself that he couldn’t do that, found himself closer to you, getting closer little by little, opening up as if you were the key to everything he kept.

Older man who felt bad for letting you into his life, getting real laughs and smiles out of him, arousing an interest in being protective, an interest in wanting to know more about you, of always being close to you, listening to your voice, smelling and touching you.

Older man who could easily lose control when around you, letting you shape him as you pleased, showing what it was like to fall in love all over again.

Older man who knew it was dangerous to get involved with younger women.

However, your touch seemed to catch him on fire, warming every bone in his body and melting away all the protection he’d created. Your kiss made him want more, made him hungry, wishing he had everything you were offering to him. You together, touching, kissing, loving, whispering truths in the urgency, wanting more from each other, burned violently.

You awakened what had long died in him. You burned in him the will to accomplish what he once gave up.

You two played this game of desire and secrecy, playing the dangerous, dancing past the point of return, far from what he swore was right for both of you.

“I just want you. Tell me what you want.”

Older man who felt guilty and walked away, tried once again with people his age, but to no avail. He kept thinking about what the two of you would be like, how things were with you. Older man who found himself trapped in something he couldn’t undo.

“Never really felt bad about it. Let go, we can free ourselves of all we’ve learned.”

Older man who couldn’t stay away from you, always bumping when you two were in the same place, attracting each other like magnets. Older man who couldn’t help but desire you and not end up in a secluded corner where that fire melted you both and ended up molding yourselves in each other’s hands.

It’s inevitable for you two.

Older man who couldn’t stand the lonely life anymore and after he discovered you, he couldn’t go back to the old, he didn’t want to go back to the past. He felt alive after a long time; He wanted to feel the things you awakened in him, embrace that secret language of yours and not go back.

Older man who embraced the point of no return, allowed himself again, learning what it was like to be alive, not regretting being with you, choosing you over what he thought was right, not caring what others said or judged.

Older man who was happy and ready to make his dreams come true with a younger person willing to share and build things that others didn’t want. Older man who was on fire like he used to be, wishing he had you forever.

noel noa, marc snuffy, aizawa, nanami, shiu, kunikida, hirotsu, keishin ukai, ur fav !!

© iwashie 2023, please do not translate, modify or republish my works

[maxverstappendefender]

Hi I was wondering if u can make an imagine with max verstappen where the reader is an athlete also (tennis player please 😮‍💨😮‍💨😭😭🥹🥹) and she is also from Netherlands

her and max were like in the same school or neighbors or even Victoria’s friend and her and max used to be dating since they were young teenagers but they broke up because of their careers (more like she broke up with him lol🤭) and they meet again at a gala or a wedding when they are at the top of their game her being world no.1 and many grand slams winner and him being world champion and then they have a confrontation with a lot of angst and yelling and max being heartbroken 💔💔🤌🏻🤌🏻

other part to this request: "Also about the max and athlete reader like if u can make it inspired by “call out my name” by The Weeknd 🥲"

a/n: this is such a good idea, i love some good angst. i made it a smau and also written parts (more towards the hend). i don't know much about tennis but i tried. the google translate dutch is probably bad but that's fine. hopefully i did your idea justice <3

warnings: profanity (?), alcohol

my masterlist !

The Dutch Athletes

yourusername posted on instagram!

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 933,481 others

yourusername and that's a wrap on the lovely game of tennis, back to training for next season :)

view all 91,029 comments

user PROUD TO BE DUTCH BC OF THIS LADY AND THIS LADY ONLY

liked by yourusername

landonorris you're serving! (do you get it? im so funny)

-> yourusername ty lan (the tennis jokes are never funny)

-> landonorris not even a pity laugh.

user i see a certain someone hiding in the likes

-> user 🤺🤺🤺 be gone sir

victoriaverstappen cannot wait to see you next week!

-> yourusername i miss my favourite dutch person

-> user max is punching the wall rn

user wait, im new. why is everyone hating on max verstappen here?

-> user y/n dated him a while back but they ended it in 2021 for reasons no one knows. lots of speculation but they never confirmed or denied anything. he still has loads of pictures of them on his insta but she deleted hers, probs wasn't a mutual breakup in that case. she's still good friends with lando, charles, and max's sister!

-> user he probably cheated or something

-> user they both seem happy so we shouldn't make assumptions :)

liked by yourusername

liked by f1fan1, vstppn, y/nflowers, and 14,912 others

y/nmaxupdates still no new content of our favs together so we are doing a little throwback thursday to one of y/n's posts from 2015 (she has removed the post).

comments are turned off

yourusername posted a story!

yourusername posted on instagram!

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 791,492 others

yourusername vegas baby! vv thankful lando is okay. congrats on the podium charlie!

view all 83,001 comments

charles_leclerc You say congrats but you wear a McLaren hat

-> yourusername only because lando invited me, not you!

user max being cropped out has me CACKLING

user we were so so close to some y/nmax snippet by her posting him but she fucking cropped him out

landonorris i'm so mad i crashed, my helmet was so sick for this race. do you think i can wear it to the clubs tonight?

-> yourusername lando istg if you wear your damn helmet anywhere tonight. you are supposed to be staying at the hotel with me anyways?

-> landonorris i don't see a doctor that will stop me from leaving. but my helmet looked sick right?

-> yourusername eh

landonorris we literally spent like 3 days together before the race and you still chose that ugly picture

danielricciardo VEGAS BABYYY. tonight we party.

liked by yourusername

yourusername posted on instagram!

liked by landonorris, maxverstapen1, and 701,831 others

yourusername 'VEGAS BABYYY. tonight we party.' ~daniel ricciardo (and don't worry, i didn't let lando leave the hotel looking like that)

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it had been a wonderful night so far. lando couldn't drink due to the drugs the doctors gave him so you didn't drink either out of solidarity. lando had gone off to do lando things, probably finding a way to the dj booth or socializing with whoever he can. you were just sat at this couch in the vip area. you were talking to charles for a while before he went off to do celebratory shots. you were so tired from the timezone difference, vegas compared to the netherlands was messing with your system. you had your head leaned back against the couch, your eyes were just looking at some of the drivers having a lot of fun and celebrating in one of the best party cities in the world.

you felt someone sit down next to you on the couch. you didn't know who it was at first but you quickly smelt the cologne and knew. max. you two hadn't really spoken since 2021, when you ended it. it wasn't the prettiest of breakups but we were both stupid kids and in love back then. you both should've known it wouldn't work out. you tried, though. you tried with every single thing you had in you but at the end of the day, fate would always be stronger.

"hey, y/n. haven't seen you in awhile," max finally said, breaking the silence. he sort of had seen you though, on instagram. had he missed you? every fucking day. you broke up with him though, and you seemed happier. if you were happy, he would accept that.

"sure," was all you said. that was your telltale sign that you did not want to talk. but let's be honest, max verstappen not having a conversation when he wants to sounded impossible. he wanted to fix things, he wanted to fix it all. why wouldn't you let him? "any chance we can talk?" he asked you. he wouldn't really take no for an answer. he would just talk to you while you listened, but even that would be stretching it.

you stood up from the couch, careful to not look at him. if you looked at him, you would be a goner and would do just about anything he asked you to. you were a strong person except when it came to max. "see you around," you muttered to him before leaving the vip area. you would infact not be seeing him around, not if you can avoid it. maybe not drinking was a bad idea. you had spotted lando who was busy chatting away to someone. "fuck," you whispered under your breath, realizing that the person who you had to make sure got home safely was still having a good night. you wouldn't want to cut his night short, especially when his night started bad with the race.

you felt some hands wrap around your waist and before you could protest, these hands were pushing you out this door to the club's back alley. you knew those hands though. you knew them all too well. "max, what the hell?!" you shouted at him as you felt the cool night air hit your face. it felt better than how being inside that club felt.

he knew this was probably too far. but when has 'too far' ever stopped him. he was so done with this all. 2 years of not having more than 10 words shared between you two. you two used to talk every single day, where did it all go wrong? he knew this one was his fault. he was the one who had lost you, all for racing. he gave up you for racing. he was a royal idiot for that. "i am so done with you not even talking to me!" he shouted to you. he was thanking god that you two were in an alley and not somewhere public for this.

"i don't want to talk to you," you said to him. not many people held their ground against max, but you always did. you never wanted to talk to him again, not since your breakup. you were happy and had a great life, you didn't need the mess that was max verstappen. "you never do!" he said back. that was true and you both knew it.

"you're right! i never do! because you fucked up," you shouted to him, putting your finger straight to his chest. the breakup was infact not mutual like the media made it seem. you two broke up because you were trying to support him in racing while still building a life in tennis for yourself. you could see the stress eating away at max that year and he still wouldn't let you help. even if it was help from afar. you tried to be there. he didn't even try to be there for you and your goals either.

"i know i did. believe me, i know i fucked it up," he said to you. there had been quite a few sleepless nights where his brain just wouldn't turn off. he had only been thinking about you. tonight was just his breaking point. he was done acting like he hadn't been thinking about you.

there was a moment of silence as we just looked at eachother. we had grown up a lot since we last got close like this. "so then why? just why?" you pleaded to him to just give him a real answer. 2021 had been a hard year for him and you knew that. but you were his girlfriend. you were meant to be there and help him but he wouldn't let you. he pushed you away at any chance he got. then you were alone. it was an endless cycle of you trying to help max with his stress, him pushing you away, and then you also getting lost to your own stress.

he put his hands on either side of your face. he knew he couldn't give you the answer he had given you when you asked this question 2 years ago. he couldn't say "just a tough year" because although that was a part of it, it wasn't the entire truth. and you deserved the truth. "i pushed you away before you could push me away," he said to you as he looked into your eyes. he felt like an idiot for saying that but it was the whole truth.

you gave him a slightly confused look. that had been a different answer than what you got 2 years ago. how could he even think you would push him away? you loved him so much and you had for years. you would have clung to him, even in death. "if i wouldn't have won in 2021, there was that thought that you would be gone," he admitted.

"i wouldn't have left. i wouldn't have ever done that," you quickly said. you had to say that really quickly before he spoke again. clearly your words took him aback a little. he really felt stupid for ever thinking that you would leave, let alone leave simply because he won a championship. mentally, you said 'fuck it', and just kissed him. you pulled away for a second to whisper, "je bent een idioot, max verstappen (you are an idiot, max verstappen)". then you kissed him again.

he smiled in the kiss, his hands in your hair and yours in his. your words were true, he was an idiot. he would probably have to kiss you a million times to make up for him pushing you away. and that was a price he was willing to pay. he felt you pull away and as desperately as he wanted to pull you back into him, he knew you had some more words to say.

you pulled away. "but you left. you left when it got hard and i will never put myself in that position ever again," you said to him. your lips stung with how much desire you had for max. but you had to make smart decisions, you could not get hurt again. and deep down, you knew he would leave if it got hard again. him leaving again would hurt too much. you had a good life now, he had a good life now.

he felt his heart shatter at your words. but he knew you were right that he had left when it got hard. he had taken the coward's way out. he wanted you to be happy and you seemed so happy with your life now. he couldn't take that from you. he nodded his pain away and spoke softly to you, "i hope you have nothing but happiness in life". then he walked away. he walked away but this time for your sake. he knew you wouldn't walk away from him so he walked away from you. he really did hope you had nothing but happiness in life. he could hear all about your happiness from the bits that victoria shared with him.

liked by y/nlover, heartsfory/n, mvfan, and 19,254 others

y/nmaxupdates NEW CONTENT!! I REPEAT NEW CONTENT OF MAX AND Y/N!! that kiss?? oh we are SO back.

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[mvltisstuff]

could you please write ANYTHING for steven! no one writes for him and i love your writing!

would love a friends to lovers story but im working with crumbs so anything will do

you are in love - s.c

summary: request

steven conklin x reader

a/n: he looks so cute in this gif i’m crying 🩷 i hope you enjoy this, one of my fav tropes :))

the years had passed by so fast, each one leaving lost confessions in the dust. y/n would always regret it, but then new years came around and she promised herself she would say something. then year one passed, and year two.

she didn’t say anything to steven. she only gave small hints and signs, but he never really saw any of them. little did y/n know was that he was doing the same, sending her little messages with his mind and he broke every time she didn’t notice. it was pure oblivion, neither of them seeing the pure love they had for each other.

they lived as friends for too long. the runs on the beach, the bakery trips, the boardwalk dates were still friendly engagements. it was the complete opposite of what they wanted.

y/n had no idea how steven was missing it, even being valedictorian. he was the first to stand up at her sport games, or any of her activities that she did good at. he’d always have the most loving beam on his face when she showed him a good grade she got on a test. and she was the first one on her feet at his graduation.

she helped him practice his speech all the time, over the phone and even some long weekends in person. y/n was always there for steven, through the good times and the bad. when he achieved his goal, or when he lost susannah. she held him while he cried, listened to every agonizing word that left his mouth. he has no clue how to thank her for any of that, as she was the only consistent support system in his life, the constant source of love that he could never be derived of.

she drove hours to his school, sitting right in the audience with his family as he walked up to the podium. each word of his speech left with such grace, being delivered with his class in a mature way. the moment the last word in the paper left his mouth, she was on her feet, clapping her hands together and getting his attention first. his eyes wandered to her, the most alluring smile illuminating the room he was in. he was surrounded by classmates and their families, but suddenly, he and y/n became the only people there. he stepped down, accepting his diploma and making his way out after the graduation ceremony.

y/n pushed through the crowd of people in their blue gowns and caps, trying to find the only one who mattered to her. as she twisted and turned around the people, seeing no one that was remotely close to steven. he noticed her from far away, pulling away from an embrace with his mother and sister, seeing y/n trying to shuffle through the crowds.

his feet started moving toward her before he could even think straight. he just saw her gorgeous face, the one he just wants to love out of the silence. she finally landed her eyes on him, seeing the diploma being handed off to laurel. she started stepping quicker toward him, but it still felt like slow motion.

her heels clicked on the ground outside, trying to contain the wide smile she had on her lips. she was preparing to be there for steven after his graduation, but only as a friend. she so badly wanted more, but she pushed through their friendship with what seemed like ease.

when they finally reached, he pulled her into his arms, lifting her legs off the ground and her knees bent. y/n wrapped her arms around him, softly squealing in his ear about how proud she was, and that his speech was perfect. she started to blabber on about how amazing he is, moments away from spilling her whole heart out on the floor.

he giggles at her words flying out of her mouth at an insane speed, placing his hands on her shoulder and stealing her from her own mind.

“steven, you don’t even understand how good that was!” she rants in the most adorable way. “i don’t know how else to say how proud of you i am!”

“y/n, listen,” he grins, lifting her chin up to look at him, who stands tall over her.

“i’m sorry! i just needed you to know how amazing you are.”

he can only manage to smile back, tilting his head a bit at her. “can i talk now?” he asks, jokingly, as she quiets down to let him talk.

“i just wanted to say, that i’m leaving the stupid steven in high school,” he begins, leaving y/n’s brows and nose to scrunch up.

“huh?”

he places his two fingers back on the tip of her chin, lifting it closer to his face and planting his lips on hers. it felt so natural, as if they could’ve been doing it for years. y/n simply let it happen, the moment she’d been praying for finally happening.

his soft, warm lips touched against her own, the faint taste of mint gum on lips and the strength of his cologne. a weight was lifted off stevens shoulders as he deepened the kiss, the same load being swiped off y/n’s.

when they finally fell back down to earth, y/n smiled against stevens lips, the sweet grin only making him further infatuated with her.

“you’re the only one i want, y/n,” he says. “i can’t hide it anymore.”

“don’t ever hide it again,” y/n replies, reaching up on her toes to peck his lips again. the firework had finally been ignited, and burst beautifully in the brightest colors in the sky.

[jpnriikicore]

── super shy

paring stiles stilinski x mccall!reader, word count 1k, genre fluff, authors note ngl this is my fav writing piece i've done so far 🫶🏻( masterlist )

your standing on the bleachers during a lacrosse practice before tonight’s game. as your a photographer for the year book club you decided to take a few pictures of the lacrosse team for the page that was going to be dedicated to them.

you zoomed your lens in on one player in particular, stiles stilinski. he was talking with the coach - well, more like arguing which wasn’t unusual for the two. you snap a few pictures of him. truth be told, you had a crush on stilinski since fourth grade finding the boy's humor and sarcasm charming.

as he gets back into line to continue to practice he notices you and waves at you. you back away from the camera shyly waving back at him.

you sit down on the bleachers searching through your bag to find a different lens. you were too busy with finding the lens that you completely ignored the sound of someone walking up the bleachers.

"you coming to the game tonight?" his voice slightly startled you as you look up at him. he knew that it was a stupid question. you came to every single game, but he got to nervous and just asked the first question that came to his mind.

he was always incredibly nervous in front of you. either he’s to shy to talk to you which like never happens when talking with anyone else. if you asked everybody else in the school if stiles was talkative or not they would reply that stiles never shuts up. or he would ramble on about the most stupidest topics. well, he believed that it was stupid, but you didn’t you find it to add to his charm and personality.

"yeah!" you nodded looking up at him.

"stilinski!" coach yelled grabbing the attention of the two teenagers.

"see you there," he pointed finger guns at her. she smiled at the playful action. "i-i gotta go get back to practice." he pointed with his thumb behind towards the field.

"yeah, okay. see you at the game stilinski."

luckily, stiles wasn’t on the bench anymore and actually got to play. you sat down on the bleachers next the sheriff and your mom, melissa. like normal game day your wearing braids with red ribbons and a red sweater due to the cold weather with the number '11' on the back to support your brother.

you bought your camera to take a few more pictures. though you tried to take pictures of all of the players fairly for the yearbook you couldn’t help, but notice that the majority of the pictures you took was of stiles. you put your camera down to focus on the game happening in front of you. you looked over to the scoreboard taking notice that beacon hills was winning a few points ahead.

stiles glanced over at you and now is completely emerged about the thought of you. his mind wasn’t focused on the game by any means. you looked too alluring making all his interest go on you. the wind moves a few pieces of your hair that managed to get loose from your braids that exposed '24' painted in red on your cheek. it was a small subtle thing, but it made butterflies irrupt in his stomach.

he managed to get his focus back on the game after getting snapped back into reality by scott. he threw the ball into the net scoring the last point for beacon hills to win. while the other players celebrated he searched for you in the crowd that formed on the field.

you snapped a few more pictures of the players celebrating after the win before packing up your camera equipment which lead to you being one of the last ones to get off the bleachers. you walked through the crowd trying to find your brother to tell him congratulations.

stiles found you first though rushing up to you lifting you up from the ground spinning you around. in shock a few giggles escaped your mouth. a rush of excitement and adrenaline filled stiles as his body reacted before his mind could comprehend what he was doing. he kissed you.

"do you want to go on a date with me?" the words slipped without him thinking by the time he realized it was too late to backtrack his question. he swallowed nervously waiting for your answer.

"i would love to." you nodded, smiling up at him. you held his hand as you walk to the parking lot to your truck. you could tell your brother congratulations once he got home.

you chuck your camera equipment in the passenger seat through the rolled down window of the drivers seat. once you turns around to face stiles once again he trapped you between his body and the truck. his hand resting on the truck and the other carefully cradling your jaw. he leans in kissing you yet again. you melted into the kiss wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him closer. you could definitely get used to this.

"can i see the pictures you took?" he mumbled against your lips.

"yeah." you nodded reaching for the bag that sitting in the driver seat and unzips it getting the camera. you turn to him as you turn the camera on handing it to him. a bright smile paints his face.

"seems like you have a crush on someone." he teased, playfully pushing his shoulder on yours. you looks down in embarrassment kicking the small pebbles in the parking lot with you shoe.

"i've had a crush on you since fourth grade." you admitted lowly.

"i've had a crush on you since we met in the sandbox."

your face lit up at his confession. one night could truly change everything. at one point of tonight you was just childhood friends now you planned on going on a date next friday and kissed twice within the span of five minutes. what you believed was unrequited love for so many years turns out not to be as unrequited as what you believed.

© JPNRIIKICORE, 2023

[seeingivy]

enchanted 

satoru gojo x f!reader 

**part of my debut concert event 

**part one of this fic here icymi (read before or its kinda confusing)

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: satoru and your parents are annoying, like in the last part, readers mom just says a bunch of mean shit (including comments on body image, etc), gojo being defensive of his wife but also corny asf, babies megumi + tsumiki having lil nightmares and wanting to sleep w their parents 

an: KING OF MY HEART IS ONE OF MY FAV FICS EVER. so glad the pookie who requested this asked for it bc I was so excited writing it. also corny lil enchanted lyrics are at the end. mister satoru gojo is enchanted to meet you and ur lil babies megumi and tsumiki just love you

- 

“Dr. L/N?” 

You look up from the computer, breaking away from your sheer focus of charting all the patients you just saw in the past hour (nine patients - which sounds mediocre, but in actuality is insanity on earth). 

Because when they’re sick, their parents ask a lot of questions. Which you understand and always honor - but that means you’re always running on a back log, running from one room to the next with no breaks in between. Satoru thinks that you’ll collapse on the floor one day while doing it. And you tell him that he’s praying on your downfall. 

“Yes, Sarah? What’s up?” 

“Your husband’s here to have lunch with you.” 

“Ah. I still haven’t caught up on my charting and I really need to-” 

You feel a hand on your shoulder, your senior advisor, Dr. Aoki, giving you a warm smile. She’s almost thirty years your senior - soft wrinkles and grey patches spread throughout her hair. 

And she really, really loves Satoru. Which you know because she doesn’t shut up about him, always going on about how sweet he is. 

“Go. Have lunch with your husband. I’ll finish off for you.” 

“Ah. Dr. Aoki, I can’t let you. Plus, you don’t even know-” 

“You take detailed notes. And I’m old, but I’m sure I can figure it out. Now go eat lunch with your sweet husband before I do it for you.” 

You smile, giving her hand a squeeze, before dragging your feet to the breakroom - suddenly hyperaware of the tension in the back of your knees, your shoulders, and the back of your eyes. Satoru’s waiting for you at the center table - two glass bento boxes and two iced coffee’s sitting on the table. 

He’s scrolling aimlessly on his phone and you’re more than positive that he’s playing Cut the Rope. A game Megumi begged him to download, but now he plays more than Megumi. Which just pisses Megumi off, because Satoru plays so far ahead in the game that Megumi can’t even remember which level it was he stopped at. 

You look down at the cup of iced coffee, Satoru’s handwriting inscribed on the side. 

pookie &lt;;3 

Bastard. He knows you hate it when you call him that.

Satoru looks up and smacks his phone down at the table as you take his side, placing your head flat against the clear, white table. Satoru immediately directs his hand to the back of your hair, his fingers soothing into the tense muscles in the back of your neck. 

“Hello my little workaholic.” 

“Good afternoon my little pain in the ass.” 

He laughs, lifting your head up as he opens up the boxes, sliding forward the food he made and sticking the fork in your hand. You look down at the line up - egg fried rice and a wild assortments of fruits and vegetables on the side. They’re all cut into sweet little shapes - the cucumbers in hearts, the strawberries in flowers. 

Right. You had tasked Satoru with making Megumi and Tsumiki’s lunches for one week when you were on the night call. When you had returned, all he did was scold you for making very boring lunches for Megumi and Tsumiki. 

Granted, you thought they weren’t half bad. You always made sure to give them a little treat - strawberry gummies for Tsumiki and sour candy for Megumi - and left sweet little notes in their lunch boxes, saying you were proud of them, that Megumi was going to do great on his presentation, and that Tsumiki looked pretty today. 

Satoru resolved the situation by heading to the store and buying the special little cutouts, shiny new metal tin boxes for Megumi and Tsumiki, and even glittery stationery to leave them both notes. 

Yeah and he never let you make their lunch again. He’d often drop by to the office to eat with you, since he knew that was the only time you would eat anything, and bring you by the third box he arranged with theirs in the morning. 

“Hard day, my love?” 

“Yeah, Satoru. And it’s not even over yet.” 

He places the fork in your hand again, instructing you to eat as you keep talking, tasking himself with mixing up the layers of the coffee he brought you. 

“What’s the point of working so hard? Didn’t you marry me for my money?” 

“Well, obviously but-”

“Hey!” 

“What?” 

“That’s so rude to admit. You should keep that type of stuff to yourself.” 

“Okay, Satoru. You married me as a cover for your girlfriend and-”

“Stop throwing that in my face! So you have one girlfriend and suddenly you’re the bad-” 

“It is when you’re married!” 

You both laugh, Satoru ruffling your hair, as he opens up the second box, sliding it towards you as you keep eating. 

“You don’t want, Toru?” 

“No. They’re both for you. You really do work too hard, Y/N.” 

“Well. Our parents could cut us off - we don’t exactly do everything they want. And I want to be self sufficient and be a good role model for-” 

“Tsumiki and Megumi. I know, my love. I’m just saying.” 

You lean into Satoru’s touch, placing your aching head against his shoulder as he leans over, pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead. You finish off your own box (and Satoru’s) and down your iced coffee (and half of Satoru’s, before he starts scolding you about healthy caffeine intakes). 

He gives you a sweet kiss goodbye, giving soft smiles to the rest of your coworkers, as you buckle in for the rest of your shift. 

- 

“Satoru.” 

“Hm.” 

“Look at what my mom texted me.” 

He untangles himself from his position - which is just using you as a third pillow - and peaks his head up, squinting his eyes at your phone in the dark. 

Your mom, heinous bitch she is, sent you a text reminding you about all the things you need to do for your dinner with the Gojo’s tomorrow. 

Wear a dress. Make sure it’s appropriate, but enough to keep a guy like Satoru interested. You don’t want your husband running off just because you’re boring him. 

Make sure to wear the wedding ring Satoru gave you, not the engagement. You’re going to look tacky otherwise. 

Fresh flowers, that haven’t bloomed yet. Don’t embarrass me by bringing flowers that’ll die in a day. 

And please don’t leave your hair fully down. It washes you out. 

Satoru glares at the camera, looking up at your face. He finds it hard to read you in situations like this. Because in all honesty, he knows that you hate your parents. But he doesn’t miss the way you act differently when it comes to them. 

Because when you’re mad at Satoru for not picking up Tsumiki on time or at Megumi for not telling you he had a project due tomorrow until nine pm, you get a reasonable amount of mad. Pink in the cheeks, a little bit of scolding, followed by fixing the problem and talking it out. 

But with them you, you don’t really talk about it. And he’s not sure if it’s because he’s not privy to the conversations that you have with them, but for some reason, he thinks there aren’t any. And that you just take it, when it’s them. 

Which he understands. Too well. That’s part of the reason he’s with you, in this bed right now. Cuddled up in your arms, pressing lazy kisses around your shoulder. 

Because his parents asked you to marry him. Because you told him you didn’t mind if he kept his own life outside of it, that you were just doing what you had to do. 

And now that he…loves you, parts of it all make him sad. That you’d take someone telling you what to do - telling you that you don’t look good with your hair down when you look good all the time and that you’re tacky or boring or- 

“Hey. Y/N.” 

“Hm, Satoru?” 

“You know I…love you right? For real?” 

“Yeah. You told me.” 

“But like, for real, okay? Not just because we’re…married or whatever. I actually really, really love you. You’re very pretty and you’re always so good with Megumi and Tsumiki and you’re so good at your job and-” 

You stop him in his tracks by cupping his face in his ands, quirking your head to the side. You lean down and peck at his lips, pressing your fingers into his dimples. 

“I love you too, Satoru but what’s this about?” 

He frowns, placing his head back in your lap as you start running your hands through his white locks of hair, soft to the touch. You can feel his cheeks are warm from his face lying against your bare legs and you can’t help but smile at the fact that he’s blushing. Even after one year of marriage (and eight months of real marriage), he’s still nervous around you. 

“I don’t know. Your mom’s just stupid. You’re not boring or tacky and you look very pretty with your hair down.” 

“Thank you, Toru. For getting so offended on my behalf. But I don’t care, let’s go to bed, yeah?” 

He nods, shuffling the sheets around you as he sprawls across the bed. One thing about Satoru, he has to touch you when he’s sleeping. 

Not in the…dirty way. It could be the coldest night of the year and he has his entire body weight on you, treating you like a stuffed animal he was sleeping with. Or it’s the hottest night of the year and he’s as far away as he can be from you - just placing his hand on your forearm or tangling one of his legs with yours. 

Touchy. Even when he’s asleep. 

After not even five minutes of sleep, you feel a tapping on your nose, your features crinkling up from the sensation. 

“Toru. Quit tickling me.” 

He murmurs back incoherently, tangling around in the sheets as a response. Right. Satoru also sleeps like the walking dead. And he can and will sleep anywhere and everywhere, almost instantly. It’s actually a talent. 

“Um. That wasn’t him.” 

You flutter your eyes open to find Megumi, standing awkwardly at your side. You immediately sit up, clicking on the light as Satoru starts groaning behind you, smacking his hand on the bed to get you to turn the light off. You look over at the clock and realize it’s well past three, meaning Megumi should have been asleep hours ago. 

“Megs. You okay?” 

“Uh, yeah. But Tsumiki, she’s like crying a lot. Usually, what I do works but she just won’t stop.” 

You shake Satoru at your side, his eyes finally fluttering open as he looks at you and Megumi in confusion. 

“Megumi-chan. You better be interrupting our sleep for something good.” 

“Satoru, stop it. Go get Tsumiki. Now. I think she’s crying.” 

Satoru immediately stands up, stalking out of the room as you turn back to Megumi, taking his tiny hands in yours. He looks like he usually does - blank expression on his face, avoiding eye contact, tiredness on his face. 

You wrap one of your hands around his cheek and squeeze, feeling his skin warm under your touch. 

“What do you think happened, Megs?” 

“She had a bad dream. Usually, we kind of just stay with each other till it stops. But, it didn’t really work.” 

“Have you had them while you were here? Or her?” 

“Yeah sometimes.” 

You can feel your heart clench in your chest and you immediately wrap Megumi in your arms, brushing your hands through his soft, black hair. You can still smell the shampoo in his hair from earlier, the fresh smell springing into your nose. They should be coming to you. Not each other. Megumi’s only five. And she’s just seven. 

“Megumi. You know you can come to us about that stuff. Both of you. And you should be because we know how to help you and-” 

You stop talking as Satoru walks into the room, craning your head to the side to survey the situation. Satoru’s carrying Tsumiki in his arms, something he doesn’t do very often, and you can hear her soft sniffles as he places her on the bed between you, rubbing circles into her back. 

You take the cup of water on the nightstand (that Satoru leaves out for you everyday so you can stay hydrated) and hand it to her, directing her to calm her breaths. She’s shaking so hard and her eyes are so pink that she can barely hold the glass, Satoru taking it from her hands and tilting her head up so she can drink it. 

You look over at Megumi, his eyes twitching as he looks at Tsumiki, and you direct him to sit on the bed next to you, right next to Tsumiki and in between you and Satoru. 

You never really know what to do in situations like this. And neither does Satoru. I mean hell, you’re only twenty-three and Satoru’s only twenty-four. And they haven’t been your kids for too long. 

Other parents, the ones who come into your practice, talk about how they know somethings wrong. They can feel it in their gut. Their parental instinct. But you don’t have any of that, especially not with Tsumiki and Megumi. 

And you know it’s not something you can learn and something that just comes from being their parents, but you sincerely wish it was. Because Tsumiki and Megumi deserve to have someone who can read them like that, who knows what’s wrong with them, and talks for them when they don’t know how. And-

Satoru opens up his arms, with Tsumiki crawls into his lap and curls herself up against his chest. She looks so small, barely covering his entire frame as she hiccups into his chest, pushing the back of her hand against his eyes. 

Satoru beckons Megumi to join her and he awkwardly crawls up, the two of them nestled in Satoru’s arms. Maybe you spoke too soon. Because it always seems like Satoru knows what he’s doing. 

“You too, goofy.” 

You roll your eyes as you scoot closer to them, laying your head against Satoru’s shoulders as you start running your hands through Tsumiki’s hair, rubbing soft circles into the small of her back like Satoru was earlier. 

“Hi Miki.” 

“H-hi Y/N.” 

“How you feeling, sweet girl?” 

“O-okay.” 

You soften your hands in her hair, focusing on braiding the ends as you talk, the three of them hanging on to every word you say. 

“Miki, Megs. I know you’ve…been together for a long time. Before me and Satoru came around. And I’m sure you have your own ways of…being there for each other. But, you can let us be there for you too, you know?” 

You feel Tsumiki stiffen under your touch and you pull back, holding the braid in place on your head. 

“I don’t mean to let each other go. You’re siblings and that’s one of the most important relationships you can have. But just know, Satoru and I can be smart sometimes. Well, I can. I don’t really know about him.” 

“Hey.” 

Tsumiki and Megumi laugh, which stops Satoru’s protests all together. It’s working. And Satoru’s jealous of you, because as always, you know the right thing to say. To get them to smile again, tell you what’s wrong. And sure, you’ve always had that effect on Satoru but he loves that you can do it with them too. You’ve clearly got this parenting thing more figured out than him, he thinks. 

“But, we can help you too, you know? I’m a big girl. I can deal with whatever you give me.” 

Tsumiki turns to the side, crawling out of Satoru’s lap as she crawls into yours, squeezing herself in your arms. 

“Th-thanks, Y/N. But maybe not right now?” 

“Whenever you want, okay? Let’s just go to bed now, it’s late.” 

“Can I sleep with you, Y/N? And Satoru?” 

Satoru leans forward, squeezing Tsumiki’s hand in hers as he nods, opening up the covers for her. Megumi awkwardly looks between you and Satoru and you catch on fast, signaling for him to join you under the covers as well. The four of you are squished together, Tsumiki clinging on to you and Megumi clinging on to Satoru. 

They both fall asleep fast and you give a weary look to Satoru in the dark, which he returns with a smile. 

- 

You hate leaving at a time like this. And you hate your parents and even Gojo’s parents for making you come to a stupid dinner like this. 

Your kids, that they don’t know about, need you. You had tried your best to make Tsumiki comfortable, making her a stack of warm, strawberry pancakes and letting her pick what you guys ate for lunch. 

And when you had to leave her with Nanami and Shoko to go see the Gojo’s, you swear you could feel your heart clench at the thought of leaving her. And Megumi. And of the two of them being uncomfortable without you there. 

You could tell from the look in Satoru’s eyes that he shared your sentiments, his gaze weary as he said goodbye, lingering by the door until you two really had to leave. And then you both made your trek to the Gojo Estate. 

And god do you hate it here. In all but ten minutes of dinner, your mother, assfucking clown she was, had already found ten different things to pick on. 

Your hair has split ends, you should cut it. 

You should slow down on the food. 

You could have worn a more flattering color. 

Every spiky comment she makes, Satoru squeezes his hand in yours under the table, grounding you in the moment. If it wasn’t for him and the soft looks he was giving you every few minutes, you’re sure you would have broken the centerpiece in the middle of the table by now. 

“Say, Y/N, Satoru.” 

You look up to find Mr. Gojo beaming at you, the smile not meeting his eyes. You can feel Satoru’s hand tense in yours under the table and you know it’s your turn to protect him from his dad. 

“Did you start trying for kids?” 

“Dad.” 

“What, Satoru? It’s an important question. You guys have been married for a year now and surely there’s no better time than now to start trying.” 

You can feel your mouth dry at the thought. Kids. Kids of your own. Like, a crying, pooping baby - half parts you and half parts Satoru. 

How in the world could they think you were ready for that? Because in all honesty, Satoru’s your husband in name but he feels like your boyfriend. 

You’ve been together for eight months. You haven’t gone on a vacation together or met his college best friend and you don’t know what his favorite smoothie flavor is or what the first car he drove was and they want you to start popping out kids? 

You and Satoru aren’t ready for kids. And really, you already have two kids. That need you right now. And you have all the time in the world to have more and you really, really just like things the way they are. For now, and-

“They’ll get working on it.” 

You feel your eyes boggle out of your head as you crane your neck to look at your mom, a self-assured smile placed on her face. She can’t really be serious, can she? 

“Oh, how sweet! A grandchild. Oh, I do hope it’s a boy. So we can pass on the Gojo name and all.” 

It’s Satoru’s turn to glare at his mother and you’re sure that he has the same bitter taste in his mouth as you. Sure, they were the reason you guys got married but they had no right to treat you guys like this. Like you were put together to make some offspring for them to fawn over. 

“Although, I wouldn’t mind a girl. Boys can be rowdy and insensitive.” says Mr. Gojo, a matter-of-fact tone in his words. 

“That’s not true. Boys can be sensitive too. You just have to raise them right.” you respond, muttering the words under your breath. 

Megumi’s sweet and sensitive. He always avoids stomping on flowers growing out of the cracks of the cement and he always writes cards for his teachers on holiday’s and always says please and thank you after every little thing you and Satoru do for him, even if it is under his breath. 

“Well, I hope it’s a boy. Girls come with attitude.” your dad responds, the implication in his tone clear. 

“No daughter of ours would take back-handed comments like that.” 

Because Tsumiki’s never done that. Because Satoru remembers the day someone tried to pick on her in her class and all she did was calmly respond. Stand her ground, surely but firmly. Something he’s sure that she learned from you. And to think someone could dismiss that off as attitude is so fucking-

You squeeze Satoru’s hand under the table, signaling him to stop. Because he’s being rude. Because he shouldn’t talk back to your father even if he’s wrong and-

“Satoru. Stop.” you whisper, awkwardly eyeing the four of them as he deflates. 

The four of you awkwardly sit in silence, the forks clicking against the plates. Satoru’s crushing your hand into oblivion under the table and you can see that he’s agitated from the way his shoulders are all scrunched up. And when his dad talks next, he really can’t hold it in anymore. 

“Satoru, son. All you have to do take her to bed one time to pass on the Gojo na-” 

Satoru smacks his fist against the table, the glassware making a loud noise against the surface. You look over to find Satoru smoldering, the way he often did when he was near his dad. 

“Don’t talk about my wife like that. She’s not some thing for you to use. You can try that shit on anyone else but you know damn well I’m not letting you do it to her.”

Mrs. Gojo’s features scrunch up in frustration, a pinched look on her face as she starts massaging the bridge of her nose. Satoru stands up, pulling you up with him as he stomps out, dragging you out with him. 

- 

You two drive in silence the entire way home. Satoru’s still smoldering in his drivers seat, jaw tight against his skin as he clenches his fists on the steering wheel, knuckles going white. And you’re unsure of what you can say to him to ease it, make him feel better. 

He parks the car in the driveway, leaning his head against the seat to look up through the sunroof, the stars glittering in the sky above you. He makes no motions to get out of the car, the engine and lights still turned on despite the fact that you and Satoru were home. 

“Y/N.” 

“Hm, Satoru?” 

“You-you okay?” 

“What? Yeah. Are you?” 

He doesn’t respond and instead loosens his tie, the fabric hanging from the sides of his collar. 

“I just…hate them. So much. Why would we rush having a child when we aren’t ready? And who are they to talk about you like that? Like all I keep you around for is to bear my children.” 

You’re not sure what to say so you snake your hand into his, leaning over the glove box to lean onto his shoulder. You can feel him deflate under you, leaning his head on top of yours as he presses his hand against your waist, his hands rubbing back and forth on the fabric. 

“Satoru.” 

“Yeah, love?” 

“You feel like my boyfriend, right now. I know you’re my husband but…we’ve only been together for eight months. And I know it’s weird to say but…I’d like to have a kid with you someday just…not now.” 

His hand comes up, angling your face up so you’re looking at him, a big smile spread across his face. You can feel your cheeks burning from the admission and you clench your eyes shut to avoid seeing the teasing look on Satoru’s face. 

“Y/N. You’d want to have kids with me?” 

You nod and Satoru’s face splits into a big smile, his hands shaking in yours. 

“Well, yeah. It would be cute, when the time is right. Megumi and Tsumiki can have a little sibling and it’ll be like…a little us. 

“A little us?” 

“Your nose, my eyes, hopefully all of my looks and none of your annoyingness.” 

“You’re so sweet, Y/N. I don’t know how I ever lucked out with such a charming girl like you.” he responds, sarcasm dripping from his voice. You laugh in response, beaming at him as you talk on. 

“I love you, Satoru. And I’d love to have kids with you but we’re just…we already have two kids and I think they need us right now. They haven’t opened up yet and-” 

“I know, sweet. I agree. Trust me, I’d love nothing more than putting a baby in your right here, right now in this car but-” 

“Pervert.” 

“Why are you so rude? Every word is like a bullet wound in my chest.” 

You lean over, pressing a kiss to his chest as you lean back and glare at him. He smiles at you, a sweet look on his face. 

“What was that for?” 

“You said bullet wound in your chest. I was just kissing your ego better.” 

He leans forward, cupping your face as he kisses you, hanging off the ends of your lips as he squeezes his face in your hands. He pulls apart, pressing kisses all over your face as he talks, his words making your cheeks burn. 

“You’re so-” 

Kiss. 

“Damn cute.” 

Kiss. 

“I hate you sometimes.” 

Kiss. 

“When we have kids, I hope they’re all like you. Pretty eyes, soft hair, snarky attitude. She’ll be so easy to love, all goofy and idiotic like you.” 

“She, Satoru?” 

“Oh, she’s totally going to be a girl. My three girls. You, Tsumiki, and her.” 

“Sounds like you have it all planned out already?” 

“Well, I’m waiting. For when you’re ready and I’m ready and all that. But yeah. I’ve already seen how our entire life is going to play out. You and I are going to grow old together. Sick it to our parents. Have the type of love kids dream about. All that lovey-dovey stuff.” 

You and Satoru, hands pressed together, pad into the dark of the house, slowly climbing up the stairs. When you amble into your bed room, you can hear soft snores in your bed - Tsumiki and Megumi fast asleep under your sheets. There’s a tiny little sticky-note pressed to the light switch, which you and Satoru both squint at. 

They want to sleep with "their parents”. Their words, not ours. - Shoko 

You and Satoru quickly peel out of your clothes and climb under the sheets - Satoru leaning over to press a kiss to all three of your heads before fluttering his own eyes shut. 

And you hate to say it, because all in all the night wasn’t perfect, but you really, really don’t want to let it go. Every part of this night is…sparkling in your mind. Satoru defending you, telling you that he loves you, that he wants to have kids with you. You-

You count yourself lucky. That you don’t have to wonder if Satoru is in love with someone else or what he thinks about you or any other thing. 

Because you know the person he’s waiting on is you. 

- 

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog @platrom @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha​ @rebeccawinters 

[aureatchi]

.🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ WHAT A SCAREDY CAT ! — nakahara chuuya

“aw, poor baby. movie too scary, doll?” “shut up chuuya.”

a/n. it’s spooky szn !! so of course i need to write something fit for the occasion…so,, why not do it w my fav ginger-haired!

info. fem!reader. fluff. lowercase ✎. profanities. horror movies, drinking, small argument. it gets suggestive sjwsj, neck kissing. wc. 1.9k

“oh, this is so cute.” 

you and your lover both shared an eye for aesthetics. that’s why you gazed so proudly at the coffee table in front of you when you stepped back to see the finished product—the rounded table was filled to the curved edges with your favorite takeout meal, bowls of junk sweets to indulge in after, popcorn, two wine glasses, and accompanying of course, a bottle of wine. other than the food, there were two lit candles to set the ambiance of the space, and a jack-o-lantern chuuya had carved himself. 

all were organized beside each other to make it look like it came out of a pinterest post.

“i agree,” chuuya replied with a smug smile, also proud of your combined work. he joined you on the side. 

you grabbed your digital camera resting on your couch and took a picture of the cozy scene. 

“before it all gets ruined,” you chuckled. 

chuuya then took the camera, turning the lens towards the both of you. 

“let’s take a few together,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pose. you and chuuya were also wearing matching pajamas: black tees and halloween themed pants. 

“okay!” 

click! click! click! 

the trio included a picture of you holding up a heart with your hands as chuuya’s arm encased around you, a picture of you turned towards him with your arms around his neck (you realized the flash was very bright), and one more of you kissing his cheek. 

“awh!” you widely grinned as you looked through them, giggling to yourself when you noticed how the camera captured chuuya’s conspicuous blush in the last photo. 

“what’chu laughing at?” he asked, looking over your shoulder. 

“nothing, it’s just cute,” you replied, putting your camera away. “can we eat now?” 

“yeah,” he replied, motioning towards the snug sofa nuzzled with your cushiest of blankets.

you enveloped them around you as chuuya grabbed the remote control to browse movies on the tv. 

RANKED #1 HORROR MOVIE THIS YEAR!

“wanna watch this?” chuuya asked, hovering the selection over the movie. “i just realized we’ve never watched a horror movie together.” 

“yeah, if you want me screaming and retreating on your lap every five minutes.” 

“exactly,” he replied, smirking. “that would be nice⎯”

“too bad. i was joking. i don’t get scared easily.” 

you held an opposing smirk back, but in reality, you did get agitated easily, especially when jumpscares were involved. but you felt stubborn and didn’t want to give what chuuya wanted, so you decided to take it on as a challenge. 

and he seemed to sense your game too. “better not catch ya lying, doll. there’s consequences for everything.” 

“what do you mean by that?” you asked, your face heating up, but he gave no answer to your avail. now you really had a challenge. 

“…whatever. i don’t need to know anyway. i’m not getting scared.” 

“hm,” chuuya said as he clicked on the movie. up popped a screen with the synopsis of the two-hour film, including all of the content warnings. 

…murder, blood, sudden jumpscares…

oh shoot.

chuuya pressed play, and immediately, the movie started.

…

the first twenty minutes were actually okay. there hadn’t been anything too much to frighten you yet⎯eerie music, corporate workers, and dark rooms were the only thing you had seen so far. 

“damn, when does this good?” chuuya mumbled, finishing eating the last of your main course. 

you were glad things hadn’t been intimidating to you so far. but you also knew your lover was awaiting for something to happen, something to cause him to win.

that wasn’t going to happen. 

you were snacking on the bucket of popcorn when suddenly, a creepy humanoid creature engulfed the screen, accompanied by a petrifying sound. there was no way to see that coming⎯there was no warning. you couldn’t help but squeal and jump slightly on the couch, the bucket of popcorn following. luckily, it wasn’t so much that it fell and made a mess. 

“o-oh shoot! chuuya, i thought i saw a spider!” you said right after the moment passed, turning your head and making it look like you were searching the cushions for a spider. you knew he was watching for your reaction the entire time. 

“spider, yeah?” chuuya asked, amused. “nice excuse, sweetheart.” 

you crossed your arms. “okay! that was a mild reaction! i didn’t jump on you so that doesn’t count.” 

“scared yet?” 

“nope!” you popped the p. yet, a shiver went down your spine.

you continued watching the movie. more horror started to seep in, grisly scenes causing unease. you weren’t sure if you preferred those drawn-out sights to the jumpscares, but you could hide your reactions better with the former. you hadn’t seen any more sudden clips yet, thankfully. 

“yikes,” you and chuuya said when a corpse got shot multiple times even after they already died and then mutilated. 

“i’m opening the wine,” chuuya said about an hour and thirty minutes into the movie. 

“alright,” you replied, not opposing. you probably even supported it. maybe if you drank a little, you wouldn’t scare so easy.

especially because you could feel the plot’s climax approaching. you were already suffocating a couple of pillows on your lap in anxiousness. 

chuuya poured the glasses and handed one to you. you quietly finished yours quickly so you could have it refilled. 

“oh shit!” you shouted when the main character suddenly made a super stupid decision⎯as you probably did too by pretending that you didn’t spooked⎯of course resulting in a chase by the disgusting creature that popped out of nowhere earlier. you clutched the pillows even harder, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the screen. you needed to prove to chuuya you weren’t lying to him. 

the wine was not strong enough against the fear-fueled adrenaline that surged through you, paralleling the intensifying background music. 

stupid chuuya. he made sure the volume was cinema-loud. it did not help trying to drown out the creepy atmosphere that engulfed the entire room. 

the figure suddenly appeared in front of the protagonist with a dramatic scream.

“AHH!” you screamed too, but immediately bit down on your hand right after. 

but then it happened again. the main character turned a corner, and it popped up again, even more disturbing than the last time. 

“AHHH!” 

you screamed again, jumping on chuuya to try and bury your face on his neck. your heart was racing from the images you had seen. 

but he had other plans. 

“aw, poor baby. movie too scary, doll?” 

“shut up chuuya!” you replied, yet you still gripped tightly on his shirt. 

but then, chuuya pushed you off of him.  

“chuuya!” you tried to climb back on him, but something was preventing you from making contact with his skin. 

“…are you using gravity manipulation?!”

“i thought you said you wouldn’t get scared,” he taunted with a smirk. “eyes on the screen, brave girl.” 

“you’re so mean!” you shouted, but faced back toward the tv. he had even gone out of his way to use his ability to turn your own words against yourse⎯

“AHHH! WHATTHEFUCK!” 

you were already screaming as the creature finally caught the main character, but you weren’t alone as chuuya cursed and pulled you on top of him, horrified.

“DAMMIT. what the hell was THAT?” 

“put us down, we’re FLOATING!” you cried. it didn’t help at all that you were both scared and floating above all solid surface, even though it was only about three feet.

“s-shit, sorry!” 

he rested the both of you down on the sofa once again. you had missed most of the eerie epilogue, but you didn’t really care when your brain had now conjured a new character for your nightmares. 

chuuya poured the last of the bottle’s contents into your glasses and handed you yours. you finished the cherry-red liquid instantly to try to get some relief. 

you turned towards chuuya right after to see that he had done the same. and then, you broke out laughing. 

the ginger-haired raised an eyebrow and glared back at you as you continued to stare at him and snicker.

“i-i didn’t know YOU were a scaredy cat,” you tried to speak, but it was hard when you were overcome by laughter. your stomach was hurting and your chest was heaving, but you couldn’t stop. 

“shut up!” he shouted. 

“i-i can’t!” you replied, continuing to laugh. “how ironic⎯it’s one thing for me, but the port mafia executive? getting scared?!” 

you were only silenced when chuuya had pulled you on his waist once again. 

“if you didn’t think you were in trouble for lying, you definitely are now.” 

you immediately stopped, staring into his eyes. you had forgotten about his temper.

“wait, i’m sorry!” but your apology was futile because you were immediately lifted once again but this time, higher and alone.

“put me down, chuuya, i’m sorry!” you screamed, about eleven feet off of the floor. you really hated his ability sometimes.

“why should i?!” he observed you from the couch, trying to grab onto something but stuck inside a sphere of air. he would never try to hurt you, even while he was mad, but currently, his ego had been offended by your words.

“i was joking, chuu! i didn’t actually mean it⎯i promise! i’m sorry, i’ll make it up to you.”

you were slowly lowered, relieved once your legs hit the couch.

“i’m sorry,” he said, quietly after you had made sure you could stand on floor again. “i got carried away, plus you weren’t wrong.” he sighed at the confession.

“it’s okay,” you replied, straddling his lap. “that just makes the two of us scaredy cats. i think that’s cute.” you booped him on the nose.

“but you’re the bigger one,” chuuya provoked.

“no! you are!”

“you are!”

“you are!”

“who’s the one on my lap?” he asked, moving a piece of your hair out of your face as he smirked. “just as she foreshadowed earlier too?”

“shut up,” you replied, but he had gotten you where he wanted in the end. “want a trophy or something?”

“no, you’re just gonna make it up to me now.“

he pulled you closer, and kissed you softly, seeing if your reaction would allow him to continue.

you pulled back. “if this is what i have to do, that’s easy.” you leaned back in and resumed the kiss, lifting your hands to play with chuuya’s hair. you could still taste the wine on his lips⎯it made you feel even more high combined with the tension between you two as he kissed you deeper.

he pulled back for the both of you to catch breath and then spoke.

“you’re funny if you think that’s it, doll.”

he moved one of his hands to move your hair away from your neck and the other to cup your cheek on the opposite side.

he started kissing there, and then, sucking.

“…chuuya?”

“this is for lying to me,” he said, focusing on the spot. once he was done, he moved to another.

“and for making fun of me.” he sucked again, until your neck had two new red marks.

“…keep going.”

“yeah? want more?”

“yes. it helps me not think of that scary murderer in the movie.” chuuya laughed.

“alright, i’ll help take the scaredy cat’s mind off of the things that bring her fear.”

“hey! stop calling me th⎯”

you were silenced as he went back to what he was doing, until your entire neck was filled with shades of red.

reblogs are cherished. <3

© AUREATCHI 2023. no reposts or translations. do not steal — including this post’s banners (they’re mine).

[princessbrunette]

horny sick primal jj is my favvv hes been my fav to write so far too 😩 you dont think anything of it when he wraps an arm around your throat or “accidentally” leaves his stuff in your room for rafe to see hes just a silly guy - 🐰

he’s literally a perv i’m tired of pretending he’s not !!!! like s1 jj hello !!!! perv !!!!!!!!!

˗ˏˋ🩷 ೀ🩹꒱ ˎˊ˗

the way an airy giggle leaves your throat when you’re standing at the parties bonfire and he wraps and arm around your throat from behind, pretending to put you in a light headlock.

“you know you’re playin’ a dangerous game… like, that noise you just made sounded like you like this— and i’m choosin’ to believe that.” you can hear the grin on his face as he holds you there, and you hate to admit it but to your hazy tipsy mind, it’s true. something about it makes you feel like submitting, even if you didn’t fully understand those feelings.

“jayj, you’re such a perv!” you giggle again, making no effort to evade his grip— he even swears he feels you push your ass back more against him, but it might’ve been his overactive imagination.

“ion know babe, y’not exactly denyin’ it. you like to get dug out like this? is that it?” he lowers his voice a little in amusement — and it’s like it flips a switch in you that sends a pulse straight to your cunt, because at a moments notice you’re biting at your bottom lip.

“mm…” you hum bashfully and he lets you go, not actually wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. “i wouldn’t know… haven’t done any of that.” you smile, pretending that you’re proud of the fact and not embarrassed like you truly were.

“mhm… alright, i’ll buy it… s’always the quiet ones that are freaky though— m’telling you!” he points a finger and you both laugh, his hands finding your waist to tickle you, just to get his hands on you again — the both of you unbeknownst to rafes scalding gaze from the other side of the fire, sipping out of his red cup, plotting.

˗ˏˋ🩷 ೀ🩹꒱ ˎˊ˗

[fiery-emblems]

Like a lot of people I sometimes ponder what my favorite characters might look like if they were allowed to grow older. I've been seeing a lot of good designs for older Soren specifically so of course I got to thinkin' about my own take!

Some notes on design process under the cut cause I think we should all share our thought process once in a while:

So, for this I didn't want to just want to go with "Soren, exactly the same but older". My thought was "if I was actually in charge of designing for a fire emblem game, one that takes place in a future Tellius perhaps and featuring this character as a guest (a la Tiki or the Awakening trio, which they should keep doing BTW) how would I go about doing that".

You have to think of course, about what the character is actually doing and what their role is. It seems pretty likely that after RD Soren is either traveling the world with Ike or wandering around (probably the former) so "traveler" was the theme. As far as the overall shape and the outer layer especially it seemed obvious to reference the dragons, who are also travelers:

I don't want to just straight up copy the look of the robes though for a couple of reasons. 1) that's boring and the idea here is for an updated visual style 2) I wanted to combine different elements to evoke a feeling of mixing cultures. I figure if this scenario takes place say, 80 years in the future or something, fashions will have moved forward and perhaps you would see elements of beorc and laguz fashions mixed together. Especially for Soren given what he is. So I went with an inner layer that looks more Victorian puffy sleeves (which you don't actually see a lot of in PoR or RD since the characters favor more stiff looking tunics, but they are there and I figured its the future and maybe Crimea has entered its puffy shirt era) with the outer layer looking more like what the dragons wear. 3) Staying with robes seems kind of stagnant. I imagine that a much older Soren who's lived a good life along side his love has probably chilled out a little bit. A little bit. 4) I think having more leg visible gives a more adult silhouette.

The other consideration is the hairstyle. As much as I love Soren being a carbon copy of Rajaion, it wouldn't be the most interesting design choice if I was the character designer of a game to just copy a past design 1 for 1. So I decided to just lengthen his hair a little bit and give it a look like its been blown around in the wind. Soren is the windy guy and I'm assuming he would be more chill here so why not let it be loose and free? This also helps avoid him just looking like Sephiran cause I see that a lot too lol.

Yes I also changed the shape of his brand. I've always been fascinated by the fact that it changed shape between games. I know it was likely just a design oversight but what if it changed because he isn't an adult yet and it changes more as he ages?

Lastly there's the why. Why would your fav show up as a guest character? What would he even do?? Well I think Soren could be really fun actually if we assume he went with Ike and that Ike kept Ragnell with him. I'm picturing a situation where Ike has lived out his natural life and died, leaving Soren to return to Tellius alone in order to tell Mist's family what happened (cause Ike just left without telling anyone anything lol), and to return Ragnell to them. Instead some conflict breaks out, you know how it is, and the more chilled out Soren is convinced to bestow the sword onto the new starry-eyed lord who reminds him of his beloved.

Oh yeah. I can see it now.

[spiteless-xo]

Tiff, could you please also do the flipside and tell us how Zeke the boys would convert a girlie who really doesn’t get the daddy kink? 👉👈

i am so so so sorry for the delay in getting to this my love 💗 my last weekend on vacation ended up being more active than i was expecting so i didn't have time to sit down and work on this for you

here you go~ 🥰 i hope you enjoy! i did my fav 2 plus zeke 🙊 i hope i meet expectations

╰┈➤ daddy kink - aot.

ft. eren, jean, zeke.

cw. 18+ content, daddy kink, gender-neutral reader.

⋙ eren jaeger.

eren brings it up one day like it's a joke. you ask him to give you some water and as he's handing over the bottle, he jerks it back quickly and is like what do you saaaay? and you're like please? and he scoffs and rolls his eyes and is like please, daddy. and you groan and hit him as he giggles, but he still doesn't give you the water bottle until you say in a comically high-pitched voice, please, daddy?

it starts to become natural after that. every time eren hands you something, he doesn't let go until you call him daddy. soon, it just becomes second nature for you to call him daddy when asking for something. eren gets especially excited when he hands you some popcorn at the movies and you instantly reply thank you, daddy! in front of all of your friends -- much to your embarrassment!!!!!

one day, during a heated makeout session that's gone on for far too long, you beg eren to fuck you. he pulls away from where he's been littering hickeys across your throat and just looks at you with a smug grin and says, what do you saaay?

and you huff a little and look away in embarrassment because he can't really want you to say that now, does he? but every time you try to lean back in for another kiss he pulls away, still with that stupid smug look on his face until finally you're like, please, daddy, i want you to fuck me, and you're surprised by how natural it feels to say it

that smug look completely disappears from his face and his eyes practically roll back into his head with a groan. fuck, I've been waiting months to hear you say that he admits.

⋙ jean kirstein.

he's been thinking all day about how to bring this up with you. he made a fancy dinner and got your favourite drinks and dessert to help loosen you up a little bit and then not-so-casually brought up bedroom kinks. finally telling you, i think it would be kinda hot if you called me daddy.

you laugh at first because you think he's joking, but when you see the way he completely deflates you try to stifle it and start apologizing profusely like, i'm sorry, i didn't think you were serious! and he gets a little grumpy and goes to dismiss it but eventually, you relax him.

you tell him that you don't really get it, but if it's something that he wants to try then you're open to it and he kind of blushes and rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment and is like ok, thank you.

later that night, the two of you start having sex and he thinks that you've forgotten completely about your awkward conversation over dinner. but when he's got his arms wrapped around your waist and you're bouncing in his lap, you lean down against his ear and whisper it feels so good, daddy and you feel absolutely cringe saying it and it feels so unnatural but the absolutely guttural groan that jean makes when he hears you has chills running down your spine

he flips you down on the bed until you're pinned beneath him and he's got this look in his eye that you've never seen before as he rolls his hips against yours and he says: say it again. louder. and..... yeah, ok. you get it now.

⋙ zeke jaeger.

zeke doesn't ask. he doesn't play games. just one day when the two of you are making out, he says, i need you to start calling me daddy. and you're really taken aback because it feels like this is coming out of nowhere, so you're stunned into silence.

as the two of you continue making out and pulling off your clothes, he doesn't mention it again so you assume you misheard him. he lays you back on the bed and starts trailing kisses from your mouth, across your jaw, down your throat -- and the combination of his warm mouth on your skin and the scratchiness of his beard has you writhing in pleasure below him

as he descends lower and lower, you start to feel his beard brushing against the soft skin of your inner thigh and you find yourself spreading your legs open for him to lay between. please, zeke, i need you. breathing heavily already, you look down to see him looking up at you with that signature jaeger smirk.

do you remember what i said earlier? he asks, his breath ghosting heat across where you need him the most. your body jerks upward toward him in need but he just pulls away. you shake your head in response and feel him lower his mouth back on your inner thigh, biting at the skin until you cry out with a desperate whine.

i need to hear you say it, he urges and suddenly you remember. you start sputtering out protests but zeke breathes more warm air on your crotch and you can feel your body pulsing with need. please, daddy. you beg -- half-heartedly -- and zeke just chuckles.

he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his finger before running his tongue up along your inner thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. i can sit here all night if i need to, he says, eyes growing dark. i'm not going to touch you until you say it like you mean it.

[thegnomelord]

speaking of a cod apocalypse (i think actually idk i just skimmed over my tl) thoughts on the boys becoming some sort of fucked up mutated creatures?

like they're soldiers, right? and assuming the government sends them out to deal with whatever apocalyptic shit there is, surely one of them makes a stupid mistake that'll cost them their lives. fast forward to them succumbing to whatever radioactive shit decided to live in their bodies, and they're dead but alive? and like... just grotesque things. they're still them, just more brutal and monstrous. maybe their skin is melting off, maybe they're growing another limb or two, maybe they have teeth growing on their head.

anyways, thoughts on this kind of genre???? :))))

(i think itd be cool if like.... some of them merged together, just a mass of limbs and skin :33)

Okay, consider: Horizon zero dawn world, full of killer machines and tribes n shit, combined with the virus from the Prototype (that and darksiders are my fav games of all time tbh) also body horror, specifically the blend of machine and flesh bh, is my favorite shit :Dd this is a rough idea

So like as killer machines were sweeping across the planet, devouring everything in sight and replicating, a disease was created that, it was hoped, would be able to infect and eat away at the metal. But it fails, the virus ends up infecting the soldiers that are fighting against the machines and just, combining the human and machine.

The world eventually goes so far to shit that everything on the planet dies. The war machines become deactivated and some of the machine/human mutants are sealed away in bunkers to be used as experiments.

And just like, the 141 becoming a blend of steel and flesh in the grotesque approximation of what they used to be, able to strip away parts of other machines and graft them to their own forms.

Gaz was the first, fighting on the front lines back when he had foolishly believed the killer robots could be defeated. He had gotten separated when he got infected, the fear secondary only to the pain as his flesh literally melted into the corruptors, bone and muscle becoming tangled in gears and wires until all he could feel were his numerous stilt like legs now scrambled to gain purchase on the blood soaked ground . Turned into some weird metal scorpion bellow the waist, weaponry weighing on his back and coolant full wires snaking across his body, Kyle had passed out from the pain, his body further changing in his slumber to grow skin and eyes over the raw metal.

He woke up deep underground in a bunker, turned into a science experiment.

Price was next. He was a soldier turned scientist, working on a subfunction of the teraforming AI that would work to clear the world of the virus that had unleashed. He was the soft voice of comfort Kyle would listen to when they pricked and prodded him, the person Kyle spilled his heart out time and time again.

It came as little surprise when Price became infected. He had started to feel lethargic and sick for the few days, all of it going unnoticed as no one knew how the virus affected humans. That was until he came in contact with a Plowhorn, that changed him into a bulwark of flesh and metal, a living tank with a heavy crest of horns sitting on his head and thick metal plates to protect him.

Price and Kyle kept each other from going insane, figuring out the worst part of the virus — they had become immortal like the machines, but still felt pain like people, pain muddling their brains when pistons and gears would grind against flesh again and again until it regrew in a different way.

They were finally freed when the people experimenting on them died and the AI released the locks of the doors. They emerged hell knows how many years later, taking the first steps into a reborn world that was still crying in it's cradle.

Soap was amongst the first humans to emerge from the mechanical cradle, thrust into a wild and untamed world full of strange machines, with no tools but his hands. While out trying to scavange some of the metal from downed glinthawks he was attacked by Scrappers, ending up infected with the virus that had been slumbering in the earth. Soap became like the sphinx, glinthawk wings attaching to his back with wires, talons merging with skin and pushing out bone, the body of the scraper combining with his own until he was unable to stand on two legs, forced to crawl on all fours and screech in pain through distorted vocal chords until Price and Gaz found him. They took care of him until he was used to his body enough to soar through the air about as well as he could run across the earth.

Simon was the last, born to a tribe that valued strength and worshipped the machines above all. And Simon is the only one who's convergence to steel has any semblence of thought or preparation. He had spent years hunting Fireclaws, tearing off the intact pieces and pistons after every hunt until the shamans of his tribe deemed him ready to become one of the metal gods. The change was slow and painful, bones melting and hardening around new metal, body getting bigger and flesh stretching to fit the new frame, heavy claws weighing on his muscular arms until Simon had become Ghost.

It wasn't what he expected. What he had done in an attempt to fit in amongst his kin served to further push him away as his tribe worshipped him as one of the machine gods, erasing his name as Simon. It was a relief when he met the others, finding comfort in their disfigured and grotesque bodies that looked so similar like his own.

And then you meet them.

Maybe you're a foolish mercenary that stumbled too far into the wild, maybe you're one of the subfunctions of the original teraforming AI that gained sentience. Either way, you didn't fear them, you tried to talk to them, to get to know them even when every societal law of your tribe deemed them as monsters and demons.

And on one random evening, when they had all settled into a rough cuddle pile, scarred flesh over sharp metal creating enough of a cushion for you to sleep in the middle of them all — safe and warm... It occured to them: you are nice, you are kind, and they want to to stay by their side.