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rationaliity · 26 days

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my turn | gallagher & dr. ratio x f! reader ( 18+ )

requested !! ratio and gallagher are roommates, that's so totally normal right ? ratio takes time to tutor you, and gallagher.. helps you destress about school and work. gallagher may not be able to help you with tutoring, but ratio can help you destress. tags : dubcon in the beginning ( turns into consent ) threesome, double penetration, oral ( f. receiving ), arguing, use of a blindfold & handcuffs, slight possessiveness, dacryphilia, asphyxiation, dirty talking, mean gallagher at points, calls you a bitch, whore, slut, ect but also nicknames like doll, princess, sweetheart, dearest, begging / whining / crying, slightly painful sex, kinda throwing reader around like a doll, implied to be smaller than ratio & gallagher, fem anatomy word count : 5.5k

your relationships with your roommates weren't exactly the normal college roommate situation. of course, in some parts of your life, it was. you three would argue over who did the dishes that day, even with veritas' schedule that he posted on a white board in the kitchen without telling either one of you. he had said that he thought about the three of your schedules and decided which days would work best for all of you. and he was right, he really did think about your schedules and made the best plan possible, which maybe irked you even more than if he had just written down names on the whiteboard haphazardly.

there would be times where you'd all be sat on the couch watching the latest and worst romcom to poke fun of it, and whoever tapped out first had to cook dinner. funnily enough, most of the time it was gallagher, he could hardly ever stand to watch two people pine after each other for an hour and a half without finding himself getting frustrated and yelling ' they should just fuck already ! ' at the tv. he'd stand up, tearing himself from where he was sitting beside you and immediately start on dinner, because he knew that he'd lost the game.

of course there were other similarities between the three of you and regular roommates, but it was the differences that you found yourself hooked on. veritas was in your year, and although he was taking classes far beyond the scope of your own, he still demanded that he helped tutor you whenever you were struggling in a particular subject, no matter what that subject was. you made plans that every thursday while gallagher was out at work all day working a double at the bar, you and veritas would take the living room and study the day away together. whether you were tackling mathematics or physics or literature, if you had a question, veritas usually had an answer. and if he didn't, he had a book that could answer your question.

veritas had a rough around the edges personality, but you could tell that he really cared about people, even if he didn't explicitly state it. or at least, he cared about you and your education. he was always snapping at you, telling you that you should at least go to bed before the sun rises, and maybe stop drinking so much coffee. if he was home, or if you saw him at college, he was always reminding you of things that you should be doing to take proper care of yourself. at college, when he was free from his classes, he followed you around, not because he didn't have any friends, but because he thought you needed someone to look after you with your self destructive behavior. so he says, at least.

and gallagher.. was a different story all together. he went to a technical college on the other side of the city, but he got the weekends off while you and veritas went to school. you would get back at around noon on both days, and veritas had classes pretty much all day until late at night, having stacked up his weekends with extracurricular activities that he didn't necessarily need, but they sure would look nice on his transcript. in those seven or eight hours while veritas was away, you were underneath gallagher in his bed.

you had no idea when it officially started to become a habit to spend your weekend crying out gallagher's name, but neither one of you were complaining, either. you knew that it started out of boredom on your part, and a nasty ex on his part. he had been pissed and frustrated, and you let him vent his anger out to you, and listened to him try very hard not to shit talk his ex because he didn't really want to say anything negative about her, but damn did she make it hard for him to keep calm. keying his cherry red vintage mustang and putting sugar in the tank was his last straw. he eventually emptied out his gas tank and replaced the fuel filter, and repainted his car with a iridescent black / purple coat this time, but damn did it take some work and quite a lot of money.

but through the entire situation, you were there to support him when he needed it. as it goes, one thing lead to another, and what was supposed to be both a celebration toast and a thank you from gallagher ended up with your clothes being dropped in the hallways outside of his room and his body pressed against yours, rushing to finish because you both knew that veritas was going to be home soon. since then, it had become sort of like a ritual of yours.

you trudged through the doors, dropping your bag at the door, completely missing the hook this time where you typically hung the bag. throwing off your shoes at the door, and undoing the claw clip that held up your hair, you were exhausted today. and you knew exactly what you needed, he was in his room probably playing some video game that he really didn't care about and neither did you.

stripping off your college blazer, you dropped it off at your room, already working to unbutton the buttons of your white dress shirt when you walked into gallagher's room, the room itself smelling so heavily of weed it gagged you for a second, but you had gotten used to gallagher's peculiarities by now. exactly like how you expected him to be, gallagher was spread out on his bed with a controller in his hands, playing some gacha game with a blonde traveller and their little fairy companion, a cute little game that you had to make a mental note to check out later after this.

" welcome home, " gallagher said while he sat down his controller, eyeing your slumped form as you stood in front of his bed, " school went well, i'm guessin' ? "

" school sucked, " you sighed, climbing into the bed with him before you could even get off your fully unbuttoned shirt, the fabric just hanging on your shoulders. gallagher laughed a little bit, opening his arms to take you in his arms.

" need something to relieve the stress ? " he suggested gently, holding you close to him. " you know, i was thinkin' of you the entire time you were gone. "

you couldn't lie to yourself and pretend that you weren't thinking about this moment the entire day, either, but you wouldn't exactly be as forthcoming about it as gallagher was. " mm. stress relief sounds nice. "

" you know, sweetheart, " gallagher's voice sounded like he was about to suggest something that he knew you would be on the fence about, but it wasn't like him to just completely ignore what he was curious about. " i was at the store the other day and i picked up a few things for you. mind if we try them out today ? " he picked himself up, still holding you in his arms so you were just kind of following his movements as he opened up his beside dresser and pulled out a pair of handcuffs and a red blindfold.

you raised your eyebrows, a mix of curiosity and confusion on your face. " i didn't take you to be one to try bdsm, gallagher. you always took me as a, uh, no thoughts, head empty, just fucking type of guy. "

" oh, absolutely, doll, " gallagher laughed, fiddling with the silk blindfold, twirling the soft fabric through his calloused hands. " you have absolutely no idea how easy it is to lose myself when i'm eight inches deep inside that pretty little pussy of yours. consider it a.. test, for both of us. "

" ugh, i've had enough tests for today, " you whined at the wording, being reminded of just how shitty your day at college was, but at least you were home now, and in gallagher's arms, which meant that even though things sucked previously, they would be okay pretty soon, and you'd forget about it all when you were crying out for him to stop because it was overstimulating you. " but.. we can try it for a little bit today. we've got a long time until i have to get back into my room, so i guess it doesn't hurt anything if our first few rounds are experimental. "

" i knew ya'd see it my way, baby, " gallagher grinned, shuffling around a little bit so that your back was pressed against his flat pillows, barely giving you any structure, and one day you're going to fuck in your room instead so you're a little more comfortable, but you weren't exactly thinking about that right now. " here, put your wrists together and up over your head, doll. "

you did as he said, feeling the cold metal of the handcuffs as he wrapped them around both of your wrists, hearing them click shut as he tightened them so they fit your wrists.

" you look so pretty like this, needin' me to do everythin' for ya, " gallagher chuckled, mostly to himself, as he leaned down and pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to your lips. " you're doing so good, doll. " he pulled back to grab the silken blindfold, wrapping it around your head so that it was completely covering your eyes. " can't see nothin', right baby ? "

you felt your heart rate increase a little bit, suddenly the anxiety of not being able to see and touch him getting to you ever so slightly, but it was overshadowed by a surprising desire to continue. " y-yeah, i can't see anything. "

" good girl, " gallagher pressed another kiss on your lips, making you jump in surprise, but he pulled back before you could kiss him back. " i'll be right back, doll. just sit tight, you'll feel good soon. " leaving you with your hands over your head and handcuffed together, unable to see what was going on around you, you could only feel his body weight shift the bed underneath you. you didn't know where he went, the carpet muffling any footsteps that might have been audible to you if it were tile, leaving you in anticipation.

after a few moments of waiting, you could feel the bed dip again as his body get on the bed and in between your legs. " g-gallagher- " you whimpered out softly, finding yourself struggling against the handcuffs that you had honestly forgotten were around your wrists. " o-oh, yeah.. " you mumbled mostly to yourself, biting your bottom lip.

wordlessly, his fingers worked at your pants, undoing the button and unzipping them. he leaned down, his soft lips ghosting over your navel, right above your panties, before he tugged your pants off of your legs. he was sensual with it, his hands trailing down your now bare legs, something that you weren't entirely used to gallagher doing, but you figured that maybe the change in your usual routine was getting him extra worked up.

you could feel his fingers trail up your legs, wrapping two strong arms around your thighs and pulling them apart, so that he had enough room to slot himself in between your legs, close enough that his mouth was so close to your cunt, that was now so lewdly leaking slick that soaked through your panties. gallagher was typically a very vocal man, so it was surprising that he was so quiet now, but by this point you were finding it hard to think straight, especially when he peeled your panties to the side and you could feel his breath fan against your soaked heat.

" n-ngh..! just- get to it already, please ! " you stammered out, sounding a lot more desperate than demanding. as if on cue, finally he gave into you, burying his face into your heat, his tongue expertly working circles around your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud. " f-fuck..! " you cried out, your hips bucking into his face, seeking more friction. he seemed to oblige your needs, his tongue working faster, his plump lips slippery with your slick, sliding through your folds perfectly.

gallagher had never eaten you out like this. yeah, he was good at it, but he opted for a lazier approach, flicking his tongue against your clit, drawing out small, slow circles as his fingers found its way to your entrance. he was not doing any of that right now, instead, the way he ate you out was like he was a starving man who had never tasted anything more delicious. he was meticulous with it, every flick of his tongue, every lick and touch designed and planned to draw out the most moans from you.

" h-hah- fu-fuck, wh-what's gotten into you ? " you panted out through loud moans, your thighs shaking underneath his rough touch. all you could do was buck your hips up into his mouth, the pleasure building inside of you and needing to release, faster than you were expecting. maybe it was just the stress finally leaving your body, or maybe it was just the isolation of two of your senses highlighting your other senses, but you swore this felt better than it typically did. " g-gonna cum- please- " you felt your chest rising and falling heavily, your heart thumping against your torso.

" just like that, yeah, pretty thing ? want his fingers inside of your pretty cunt ? " gallagher asked, his voice coming from your side, making you jump up in realization that something was up. you heard a grunt of annoyance in between your legs, and you gasped.

" wh-wha- ?! "

" who knew the doc could eat pussy like that, huh ? " gallagher chuckled, cutting you off, and you felt a lump form in your throat, slowly coming to understand what position you were in despite the haze and neediness in your head. " you look like you're havin' fun, doll. ain't you to close to stop now ? let him take you over the edge, i think he deserves to hear your pretty lil moans for all his hard work. "

the man in between your legs, veritas, continued his ministrations, and the fact alone that this was veritas ratio in between your legs made your body tense up, the eroticism of the situation only heightening your pleasure, especially underneath his skilled tongue. gallagher was right, annoyingly, you were far too close to actually care who was in between your legs, as long as he was able to make you finish. " v-veri- ah, veritas.. " you moaned out shyly, his name falling from your lips both unfamiliar and yet comforting. " i'm gonna cum- please..! "

veritas didn't say anything, too busy coaxing your orgasm from you to properly address anything at the moment. now that their little secret was out, you could feel gallagher's hand on your chest, the digits slipping underneath your bra to fondle your chest, rolling your nipple in between his two fingers, eliciting noises from you with the added pleasure that you weren't even sure you could make. everything was adding together in such a way that you simply couldn't hold back anymore, the pressure in your body too much until your entire body shook from your orgasm ripping through you.

veritas' tongue didn't stop his assault on you, guiding you through your orgasm, your slick absolutely covering his face. you whimpered softly for him to stop after the sensitivity got to, wiggling your hips in attempt to push him away, which he finally did after he got a few more moments in between your legs.

finally able to think straight, you found yourself speaking up, your voice strained as you tried to regain your composure even slightly, but failing miserably. " i-i think- i think i deserve answers. why is veritas here ? "

" he wanted a taste, why else, doll ? " gallagher chuckled, his hand pulling away from your chest. " you should see him, all covered with your juices and panting. he damn near drowned in there and is still wanting more. " you were honestly a little frustrated that you couldn't see him like that, but that wasn't something you were going to say out loud.

" you're as... candid as ever, gallagher, " veritas finally spoke up, obviously out of breath, but trying to maintain himself. when he spoke again, it was directed to you, " did you not think i was aware of this little routine of yours with gallagher ? you're as foolish as you are naive. of course i would know what's going on in my own home. "

his thinly veiled insults were not lost on you, but you decided not to reply in a mean way and start an argument right now, especially when you were at the mercy of these two men. " how did you find it out then, genius ? "

" you two don't know how to properly dispose of condoms. i found at least four of them while trying to take out the trash because a certain man forgot it was his day to take it out, " you could practically feel the glare that veritas was shooting gallagher in between his words, and you couldn't stop yourself from chuckling a little bit at it. these two were so different, and always at each other's throats. but to be fair, you were often at their throats for one reason or another, too. at the end of the day, no matter how much sexual tension was shared between you, you were still roommates. and roommates are always frustrating, no matter the circumstances.

you were just roommates, right ?

" well my little.. mistake, shall we call it, got you in between the legs of the girl you wanted to fuck for a year now, so.. i think you can forgive me just this once, veritas, " gallagher snickered, clearly not one to be bullied down by veritas' condescension. but before you could say anything back to them to get them to stop bickering with one another, gallagher's arms picked you up into his arms, your locked hands hooking behind his head as he held you up against him, his hard cock rubbing up from behind you through his clothing. " and now we're gonna make her feel even better, cuz i can't wait to be inside this fuckin' pussy again. you had your turn, veritas. thanks for warmin' her up for me, now watch me do what i do best. "

you were dangling in the air, your feet unable to touch the ground, held up by gallagher's strong arms underneath your pits, keeping you completely suspended against him. you knew he was strong, but this was ungodly. you couldn't even feel his muscles straining, it was like it was effortless. he really did have the strength of a bear. was he really going to fuck you standing up, dangling in the air just like this ?

" ..tch, like hell i'm just going to watch. i'm not like you and get off watching others touch what's undeniably mine. " you could hear some movement, your breath hitching in your throat as you felt gallagher grinding against you, bucking his hips up in an attempt to rile you up more than you already were. " sit her down here- " you could hear veritas slapping his thighs, and you could only assume that he had taken his clothing off. " i think i know of a way that we can both enjoy what we want. "

after a moment, gallagher chuckled, his grip on you readjusting a little bit. " i like the way you think, veritas. but do you really think she can handle us both ? "

" i don't think she has a choice but to take it, does she ? "

gallagher finally sat you down, treating you almost like an actual doll, sitting you down on veritas' lap, making sure your legs were spread and straddling the other man's. you could feel the hardness pressing against your still slick cunt, practically begging for entry no matter how calm veritas' words were. " i don't think she's got any arguments, either, otherwise she would've said somethin', yeah ? "

that was his way of getting consent, no matter how slightly convoluted and slutty it sounded coming from his mouth, you knew that much. still, your pride refused to let you give out just a simple answer, still a little frustrated with them for this whole set up in the first place. if veritas wanted to fuck you, he could've just asked. it's not like you would've told the man no. " it's not like you're exactly giving me a choice, are you ? veritas said- "

before you could finish speaking, a hand grabbed you by the back of your head, pushing you down onto veritas' lips, effectively shutting you up. you could taste yourself on his lips from earlier, the salty and tangy taste on your tongue reminding you of his skills with his mouth. his tongue slipped past your lips, and you opened your mouth, slightly caught off guard but having enough time to pick yourself up. his hips grinded slowly into yours, making you both groan into the kiss. your hands, still connected together, rest on his chest, your ass arched up, giving gallagher the perfect view of what he wanted.

" finally, " veritas mumbled against your lips, sounding almost desperate, although he quickly composed himself, " a way to shut you up for good. "

" you just wanted to kiss her, " you felt the bed dip, and a pair of hands grabbed at your ass, fondling the fat in his hands. " but i get it, and i aint faultin' you for it. you just gotta learn how to be more truthful with whatcha want. "

you could tell that veritas absolutely hated that gallagher was controlling everything, but he was powerless to stop it at this time, and instead of fighting, he knew the path of least resistance would give him what he wanted in the end, he just had to bare through gallagher's mouth.

" now, can we get to the good part and fuck her already ? she's wet enough from earlier, she can take it, " his voice was snappy, letting everyone know that he was getting impatient and didn't want to wait any longer, one of gallagher's hands moved from your ass to grab his cock, pressing it against your slit, rubbing some of your slick on the tip before he slowly pushed in, needing to pace himself from absolutely plowing you on top of veritas. he had agreed to share you for now, so he wouldn't do that to veritas. at least not right now.

once he was fully sheathed inside, you gasped, moaning out, your body clenching around him like a vice, begging for more. you leaned your head back, resting it on veritas' shoulder, your locked hands grabbing at his bare chest for some type of support, although you couldn't find any. " g-gallagher..! " you mewled out, already feeling too full with just gallagher inside. there was no way that you were going to be able to fit veritas too- you'd be split in half, you'd-

one of veritas' hands stayed at the back of your head, and the other one snaked in between your legs, pressing his throbbing erection against your stuffed hole. " you can take it, " he grunted out, pushing just the tip in, finding the resistance of your body so irresistible. he wanted to actually ruin you, make you cry on his chest and beg for both of them to stop.

" i-it's too much..! i-i can't, there's no way ! it's gonna break me.. please, veritas- " you whimpered, your incessant babbling just fueling veritas on more. gallagher was clearly not pleased that you were calling out veritas' name instead of his, and decided to punish you with a particularly harsh thrust.

" you're lucky i'm bein' patient right now, bitch, " gallagher spat out, his fingertips digging into the skin of your hips. this was like a complete switch of the otherwise cool and calm gallagher that you knew, but you had to admit that you liked it a little more than you were willing to admit. but your body told against you, clenching around him at his lewd words, only spurring him on to degrade you more. " just fuckin' put it in so we can make this slut cry already, damn. there's no point in bein' gentle with her right now. she ain't gonna take it if you keep tryin' to be gentle. just force it in. "

you could practically feel the anger emanating from veritas, not needing your vision to know that he was absolutely fuming, and you were caught in between their little discourse. you were starting to think that this was less about fucking you and more about proving themselves to each other. " fine, mutt, have it your way, " veritas growled, his hand tightening on your hair, pulling it back so your head was back, giving him access to your neck. with one single thrust, he pushed himself completely inside, causing you to scream out in pure ecstasy.

hot tears bubbled up in your eyes, soaking the red silk fabric, and you felt yourself clawing at veritas' skin, making him groan out from both the pain and pleasure. it was too much, far too much, you were filled up completely, unable to take anymore, but they hadn't even started to move yet. the first movement came from gallagher, lazily rocking his hips in and out of you, clearly pleased with the tightness squeezing his cock. " fuck- she's so fuckin' tight, even more so than usual. "

veritas began to move next, each thrust calculated in time with gallagher so not to overwhelm you completely. you knew that this moment of peace was just temporary, however. now they got a taste, and they were not going to just go easy on you. gallagher broke it first, his hips thrusting up to meet yours so roughly that it took your breath away. veritas followed suit, not to be outdone with the older man.

" gal- veri- " you started, completely unsure which name to moan out, and fucked too stupid to truly be able to say anything coherent through your cries and whimpers of pleasure. both men laughed a little, both fighting to be the name that ultimately spilled out of your pretty lips.

veritas' free hand was in between your bodies, rubbing circles on your sore clit, knowing exactly how you liked it from earlier. you felt your entire body freeze, unable to do anything but cry, shaking as you were sandwiched in between both brutal men. veritas knew exactly what he was doing, he knew how to move inside to maximize your pleasure, his thrusts deep and forceful, while gallagher fucked like a wild animal, only really thinking about how good his cock felt when buried deep inside of you. this mix of logic and pure instinct drove you wild, tears soaking the fabric of the blindfold over your eyes as veritas' free hand pulling your hair, the pain dulled compared to the pure pleasure you were feeling.

it was absolutely brutal, and you could feel your belly bulging from the intrusion of both men inside of you. it was too good, and your head was swimming with only one thought: you had to cum, and soon. it was all beginning to be too much, your body tense and quivering. gallagher's body practically on top of yours at this point, his chest pressed against your back as he breathed in your ear, letting you hear every animalist growl that came from his throat, his little grunts of pleasure as he fucked you like he'd want to be buried inside of you forever.

" g-gonna..- gunna cum.. please, please- " you sobbed, your breath hitching in your throat, your body shaking from the pure overstimulation. veritas' fingers against your clit rubbed faster, and gallagher's hand found your throat, squeezing the sides.

" gonna cum on our cocks, doll ? " gallagher teased, his hips hitting yours with a fervor, " gonna make a mess on top of veritas ? on my bedsheets ? you look so small in between two men like this, huh ? filthy whore gonna lose herself on two cocks ? can't even think straight. he's your tutor, right ? go on, show him what you've learned from me. how to shut up and take dick like a good girl. "

you whimpered, your tongue lolled out, drool slipping from it onto veritas' chest below. " she looks so dumb, the blindfold is all wet from her tears like she can't do anything without crying. it's like all i taught her was for nothing when cock is involved. " veritas agreed, his voice hoarse as he fucked into you. the first time he'd agreed with gallagher this entire time and it was over how dumb you looked while getting fucked by both of them. when you didn't say anything back to either one of them, veritas chuckled a little bit, his eyes taking in your fucked out face. " what happened ? can't even think of anything to say ? too stupid to even remember how to speak properly ? "

" oh, fuck- i'm gonna cum- " gallagher announced, picking up speed and intensity, his teeth grazing against your neck and biting down harshly, making you cry out in pain. it wasn't enough to break the skin, but you could feel his extra sharp canine teeth embedding itself into your skin, surely going to at least bruise you. " gonna fill up this pretty little pussy, gonna make her ours. " at this point he wasn't even saying full sentences, just chasing his high. " mine, ours. yours. fuck. ours, ours. ours. pretty little thing is ours. "

" yours- " you sobbed out, your voice barely more than a whisper, too fucked out to even make noises more than whimpers and moans. your little voice seemed to spur gallagher into his orgasm, his hips stuttering into yours as his orgasm flooded you, covering your walls and veritas' cock with his semen.

" fu-fuck, that's too good, doll, your body is too good, " gallagher groaned, pulling out of you, finally letting go of your neck. he took notice of veritas still embedded within you, and mentally made note of it. " damn, he's still goin', huh ? when was the last time you had any pussy, veritas ? "

" this tight ? " veritas managed to choke out, his thrusting up into you with unabashed roughness now that he was the only one inside, able to fill you up to the hilt of his cock. " i'm gonna cum- and soon, there's no way i can hold back with her like this. can you take it, sweetheart ? can i fill you up too ? "

you nodded, feeling him go harder against you, all of the logic and coordination he had flying into the wind now that he was just seconds away from cumming. he didn't talk dirty like gallagher did, but you knew he was losing his cool, with the way his thrusts got more erratic and rushed, driving him over his own edge.

part of you was honestly grateful that it was done, the other part of you felt empty the moment veritas pulled out of you, the suddenness of no longer have either men filling you up causing you to whimper a little bit.

" aw, she wants us some more, " gallagher chuckled, and you rolled from on top of veritas, content just to sit beside him and rest for a little while. veritas was careful with you, reaching over and taking off the blindfold, being the first thing that you saw when you opened your wet, teary eyes, squinting because you needed to get used to the light again.

" you're so good, dearest, " veritas whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, taking your hands in his and undoing the handcuffs. you knew that they were the just the play handcuffs that you could've easily escaped from, not even needing a lock to undo them, but you also weren't exactly thinking about escaping from them at the time, too consumed with something else.

" thank ya, doll, " gallagher interjected, collapsing on your other side, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a few kisses onto your neck, slightly gentler where he had bitten you. " does it hurt ? "

you paused, your eyebrows creasing together. you couldn't help but be angry at him over this, and veritas for that fact. the sex was nice, but damn, can't a girl get a warning first ? " YES IT FUCKING HURT ?! YOU BIT ME ?? AND MR. RATIO HERE JUST SHOVED HIS FUCKING COCK IN ME WITHOUT A CARE IN THE WORLD ??? " you chewed them both out over this, glaring at both of the men. veritas turned a little sheepish, although he wouldn't show it, while gallagher just gently laughed it off.

" you took it so well, though, dearest, " veritas hummed, turning to rest on his side so that he was face to face with you, his hand cupping the side of your cheek. he was surprisingly gentle, much more than gallagher was. " thank you for indulging the two of us. "

" well, i'll make sure we take care of you extra, now, alright ? to make up for it. " gallagher suggested, and you rolled your eyes, sitting your head on veritas' shoulder, closing your eyes.

" you guys are assholes. and i'm not doing the fuckin' dishes today, so you two fight among yourselves about it since you wanna argue during sex the entire time. like, geez. just admit that you wanted to out do each other and maybe kiss a little. "

" by the way, how did you fare on your physics exam ? " of course veritas would ask that when you had just managed to forget about your day at college.

" OH FUCK OFF, VERITAS. "

509 notes · View notes

walpu · 4 months

Note

hii, first of all, sorry for my bad english

this may sound weird, but lately i've been thinking of aventurine turning in a cat. like, for some strange reason (maybe during a mission), he turned in a cute little cat. and since reader doesn't know he's a cat, he feels free to enjoy all reader's affection, and maybe to let his emotions win and cry while being caressed. and then he turns human and he's crying enough to fill a swimming pool. idk if i explained well :(

tysm, i love love love your works!! ❤︎

AWWW THIS IS SUCH A CUTE REQUEST and don't worry your English is perfectly fine! It's not my native language as well so I get the struggle tho

I love making my faves cry so there's a possibility that I've got a bit carried away lol

taking care of cat!Aventurine

edits by @keisieudeptry on twitter

characters - Aventurine notes - gn!reader, a bit of angst, hurt/comfort, a lot of cuddles, n̷̳͙͊͛õ̵̩͓ ̸̧͉̓b̶̳́̎e̵̖͋͊ṭ̴̩̔ȧ̵̪͚̕

Aventurine

Listen, he's always on alert okay. This man rarely allows himself to relax, especially when he's on another one of his business trips.

And he knows what to expect. Lies, attempts on his life, threats etc. He has seen it all.

But this. This. This is something new. Of course anything can happen when you're dealing with The Masked fools but this? Being turned into a cat? In what place this is even funny? It is kinda funny tho just not for Aven

He knows better than to panic. Yes, being turned into a tiny orange cat was not a part of his plans. Yes, this is probably the most defenseless and vulnerable state he's been in since his childhood. Yes, this sucks. But hey not like panicking will change anything.

Instead he just sits in the corner, feeling incredibly anxious and dreadful. His only hope is that this shapeshifting trick won't last for long.

A huge wave of relief washes over him when he sees a familiar person. And not just any person but you. The only person who can put his restless mind at ease, at least for a short time. He wouldn't mind seeing Topaz or Ratio too but it's much better when it's you.

He quickly realizes, however, that his joy was premature. He can't communicate with you! And you don't know that this is him! So the only thing poor Aven can do is follow you around and... meow. It's almost humiliating. Too bad he doesn't have time to care.

Soon enough you give up at finally pick up the oddly familiar cat. Every time you try to put the cat down it starts meowing and running after you so the only thing you can do is pick it up and carry around like a potato.

And you know how it is with cats, once you put your hands on one you can't stop petting it. You run your fingers through the cat's fur absently, while checking you phone for any messages from Aventurine. Hugging the cat, pressing your face to it's soft fur. Something about it surely reminds you of Aven. The thought, no matter how childish it is, brings a small smile on your face.

And poor, poor Aven. For so long he's been longing for your touch while laying awake at night, his poor heart flattered every time your fingers brushed against his. He wants wants wants to melt into your embrace yet this is not allowed for him.

How can he ask for it without exposing the deepest and darkest parts of his soul. How can he open his heart to you without reveling all the ugly, fragile parts.

He wants to be open with you, he really does. Yet it's so unreasonably hard. Would you kiss his head like you do now if you would know how empty he is inside? Would he be able to press his forehead into you palm, asking for more more more without feeling exposed?

In a way, it's good that right now he's in this form. He doesn't really have to think about anything, doesn't have to feel anxious about revealing too much. He can just enjoy in.

You two fall asleep just like that and he doesn't have to overthink, he can just crawl to you side, nuzzling up to you.

You can't help but notice that the kitten in your arms is trembling slightly. And when you pull it closer in order to provide some warmth and comfort it just purrs and meows pitifully. Almost like it's… crying.

Now listen. I'm 100% sure Aven is a light sleeper. So there's no way he won't wake up from a loud gasp and a lot of movements near him.

Well. Seems like the shapeshifting trick the masked fool pulled on him lasted only for 12 hours. And now he lays on the couch in his human form while you look at him with the wide eyes.

Awkward.

His initial reaction is to laugh it off. "Surprised, dear? It's a shame you can't see your own face right now ha ha". Would explain the whole situation, trying to make it seem like it was not a big deal. No mention of you cuddling session tho. Max he would say is "my, my, didn't know you where such a cat person".

However, his smile freezes immediately when you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. Well. Here goes all of his feigned confidence.

Here is this feeling again. Your warmth, you scent, the comfort your touch brings. You telling how you started to get worried and how relieved you are that he didn't get hurt. It cuts so deep, makes him feel so exposed yet so needed. Loved even.

At first he doesn't even get it why your eyes get even wider, why a look so lost and worried all of the sudden. Only when your hands hesitantly cup his cheeks and you ask him what's wrong he realizes that there are tears in his eyes.

You know those tears when they just drop from your eyes and it's not like you're hysterical or crying uncontrollably but the tears just keep coming and coming and the more you try to calm down , the worse it gets? Yeah, him.

Would almost automatically tell you that everything is fine. When you confront him, pointing out that he's literally crying, will get even more confused than you. "Hah, seems like you're right, dear" he says with a small smile, giving up on the idea of hiding it from you. After all, it's too late for that anyway.

It feels... not even humiliating, no. It's weird, scary even, to be so open around someone. To be stripped of his mask so suddenly.

And yet he doesn't have time to care when your hands hold him oh so tenderly, when you cup his face and ask him what's wrong.

"Nothing, nothing, really. Just getting a bit sentimental here. Just... hold me like that for a bit more, 'kay?" he manages to whisper with a faint smile before pressing his face in the crook of your neck.

God feeling his tears on your skin feels so surreal. And heartbreaking too.

With each tender touch he gets even more emotional, to the point when he literally chokes on his own tears. Please hold him, run your fingers through his hair, kiss the top of his head.

He just doesn't get it, it feels so good to be held by you, why does his stupid heart hurts so much then?

Honestly he didn't cry for so long and there are so many repressed feelings, just let him let it all out.

He'll probably fall asleep in your arms, feeling very exhausted after the sudden emotional outburst. In the morning would act like nothing has happened, making some dismissing comments about him being a bit overdramatic last night. Don't let him withdraw into himself but don't push him to open up too much as well.

Just touch him more often from now on, especially when he looks like he had a bad day. And eventually he'll turn into your lap cat, reaching out for your warmth himself with or without reason.

"You're being clingy again" "Am not <З" all while sitting on your lap.

You've domesticated him so good luck.

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr aventurine #aventurine #aventurine x reader #walp's writing #fell in love with this request the moment i saw it

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pix3lplays · 4 months

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While I can totally see the toxic side of a relationship with Aventurine, I'm so down bad and soft for him and in love with him that I want him endlessly happy so may I interest you in the healthy version of dating Aventurine...? 👀

I haven't seen anything of him past the conversation he has with Ratio in his hotel room but I HAVE had him spinning around in my head since his very first leaks so I have too many thoughts about him unfortunately.........

I feel like his main love language is physical touch. I can see him having all the love languages tbh but his main feels like physical touch. He just feels like such a physically affectionate person who'd wanna drape himself all over his partner or the other way around. But considering how shit his social life and life in general is, he most definitely hasn't had physical affection reciprocated like. Ever.

So a partner who initiates physical affection with him even prior to establishing a relationship would destroy him methinks. Thanking him for something and then you jump into his arms to hug him tightly... When's the last time he's been hugged? Especially in such an affectionate manner??? Never!!!!!! His brain would shut down, he wouldn't process that he should hug back and when he does it's too late, you've pulled back and he already misses the warmth.

A partner who holds his hand?? ESPECIALLY in public??? It's clear nobody likes him and his reputation precedes him and everybody is space racist to him, so a partner who's unafraid to show him off like he's the greatest prize they could have would also destroy him methinks. He'd definitely adore PDA, but again, single and sad lol. So if his partner is down for PDA, Aventurine is the happiest bc he gets to indulge in his partners affections 24/7 AND ALSO SHOW THEM OFF?? flex that even someone like him could be loved??? Absolutely!!! Your designated seat is always his lap and he always has an arm around your waist or your shoulders and he will always shamelessly kiss you anytime he wants and you return all of it back and make everyone within a 30k mile radius feel single as fuck.

I can imagine once he's entirely comfortable with his partner, he is SUCH a gentleman. Shoes untied? He's getting down on one knee to fix it for you, caressing your leg softly and planting a kiss near your knee before standing back up. No he doesn't care if he gets his precious white pants dirty. No he doesn't care if any camera caught that and there'll be an article with his name in bold next day. Tired?? Will carry you bridal style. Out shopping?? (and he'd definitely love taking you out on shopping sprees) will carry all your bags. Anything!!

He slowly finds himself turning into husband material even if he has not been an ideal husband type ever. He'll find himself wanting to cook a nice meal at home for the two of you, likes having you sitting on the counter looking all pretty while he works and giving him kisses as thanks every now and then, or likes surprising you with it when you come home.

Starts memorizing your orders at restaurants or cafes, will always automatically just go and order your favorites.

Begins to refer to most plans with 'we'. It just comes out naturally. "This is a difficult mission to manage, but we can find a way around it". We. Even if you're not involved in his work in the slightest. You two are intertwined entirely to him.

He never officially asks you to move in. All he knows is one night you slept over and then slowly it became a regular and his house is becoming filled with more and more of your items, starting with your toothbrush then your towels then some spare clothes and now you practically live there. And he's so happy at how natural and comfortable and not awkward it feels. Nothing forced.

Speaking of spending the night, the first time you two shared a bed was insane to him. Being held so tenderly, with so much love and care and warmth.. All things he's so unfamiliar with. He almost couldn't handle it. His favorite sleeping position is either burying his face in your back while spooning you or having his face buried in your chest. He likes your warmth, your heartbeat, your hands stroking his hair and the other wrapped around him, he doesn't care how much of a baby these positions make him look like. He's comfortable and he deserves it.

Showering together was something he wasn't keen about until one time it happened and you washed his hair and he almost cried. Gentle hands rubbing his scalp and stroking his hair and lathering the soap so calmly, he could have died right then and there. Then washing his body with equal amounts of care. He'd never been taken care of that way. He started wanting you there for every single shower, throwing excuses like "I can't reach my back I need you to wash me!" or "my hair felt softer when you did it I don't know how so you have to do it!"

His future is uncertain. But he finds himself looking at your ring finger and wondering what wedding ring cut would look the best on it. Sees you with kids and thinks it'd be nice to have that. But it's a step he's far too afraid to consider taking, with how dangerous his work is and how the rug could get pulled from under him at any second. He'd never want endanger you or a child. Those are things for an incredibly far future, but the thought of possibly dying and not ever having it saddens him.

As for his gambling, as predictable as it is... You're his lucky charm!!!!!! But also his self-control. You pull him out of it when he starts betting a little TOO much, and you switch his drink with water when he starts getting too drunk too. You manage him without suffocating or restricting him, he'd appreciate it.

If you ever visit him during work hours at the IPC, he'd be the happiest. Just an IPC secretary coming to tell him he has a visitor who claims to be his partner and he's almost flying out of his chair like "let them in let them in!!!". Poor anyone around, because you will not be spared from Aventurine's kisses. He doesn't care who's there. In fact, if Topaz or Dr. Ratio are there, it's even better. He'd like to silently rub it in. And If you made him lunch and had come to drop it off???? He may actually just ask to marry you,, being taken care of is something he loves. Something he could get used to.

His job requires things to get dirty often. He's told you the details but you still stay. He sometimes wonders if you'll eventually snap out of this daze and realize what you've gotten yourself into. See his true colors and hate him and leave him. He thinks the day he came back home covered in blood that wasn't his own would be the final straw. But it somehow wasn't. He came fully expecting you to scream, yell, get angry, get upset, break up with him and leave. But you didn't. You just gave him a sympathetic look before dragging him to the bathroom. You tended to any injury with love, took his clothes off with care. Put what can be washed in the washing machine and threw what couldn't be to the side. Got him in the shower and helped clean him up. Dried his hair afterwards and got him in bed. Told him he should rest, he must be tired. Why do you still love him?? He's no good. He took someone's life today and you're worried about whether or not he's tired??? He won't ever understand what you see in him. But he's so grateful, he'd want to keep repaying you for your love.

And his birthdays.... If you throw him a surprise party, he'll cry. For sure. Does this guy look like anybody remembers or celebrates his birthday? He probably spends them getting wasted in some bar after blowing a couple of millions on a gambling table. A cake, decorations, gifts... You'd make that day special. Like a birthday should be.

He'd feel more and more like a human with you. Not like an object that can be used and discarded when no longer useful. A person. With feelings.

He'd get jealous. Cry in your arms. Say "tell me I'm yours". Begging for reassurance.

"You don't belong to anyone. I love you" you'd answer. And he'd break.

He doesn't know what it's like to not be owned. A slave. He doesn't know what it's like to be loved. Unconditionally.

He thinks you deserve better. But he can't let anyone else have you. So he becomes better.

Sorry this is soooo incredibly long and self-indulgent but I've been so obsessed for MONTHS this is so much pent up thoughts.... I'm so Normal about him <3

Yes you may absolutely interest me in a healthy relationship with Aventurine and I think every Aventurine fan needs to read this immediately-

The part about him coming home after a ‘work related incident’ had me SCREAMING oh my gosh

Like yeah coming to terms with the fact that Aventurine hurts people would be REALLY hard but you love him enough to trust him???

He definitely strikes me as the type who literally cannot imagine receiving anything without giving so to have someone just openly show him so much kindness without expecting something in return is literally shaking his world??

And yes physical touch Aventurine is so real- I have another ask proposing touch-starved Aventurine and that. Yeah that makes sense. Him counteracting that by being So physically affectionate just makes sense to me haha. He’s very in denial that he’s touch-starved haha…

Thank you for the food, I ENJOYED IT A LOT💕💕

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #Aventurine #Aventurine x reader #Hsr Aventurine x reader #honkai star rail Aventurine x reader

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stickyspeckledlight · 3 months

Text

Sunrise, Sunset, My Destroyed Body in the Onset [Yan!Aventurine x GN!Reader]

The cotton in your mind protects you.

Ao3

word count: 11.4k

TW: Stockholm syndrome, implied/referenced noncon, suicidal thoughts (not detailed but reader does mention having them and thinking about the act), mild gore (little actual gore but the prose uses gory language), reader goes through it and let’s just say aventurine is a terrible influence, tonal whiplash for my own sanity, wow aventurine are you really this emotionally constipated

Note: My first ever yan work! This is a bit of a mess, but I’ll bet five dollars and janitorial duty at Taco Bell that it’s a good mess 👍

(Written before 2.1)

The sun sets as you both bask in the afterglow. Clouds streak the baby blue sky, hued in soft yellows, calm oranges, and blushing pink.

(And it reminds you of his eyes)

Sights like these made nights spent in a casino a bit more bearable. You take a deep breath, sighing in contentment and exhaustion, and you wish you could shut your eyes and stretch this moment for an eternity. To remain in the setting eye of the sun, softly breathing as you press against the gentle beating of his heart. To have his hand lazily draped over your waist, the other caressing your head, fingers softly entangled with your locks. Your tears have dried, too. Yes, you’d like to live in this singular moment, divorced from everything else.

But as you’ve learned during your time with Aventurine, time is a rapid to move with.

You shiver a bit. Noticing this, he pulls up a thin blanket. The difference is small. But still, the serenity of the moment is shattered. The soft silk is meant to cage you in for whatever happens next. You don’t mind, anymore. Or, when you’re more lucid, when you let the torrent that is your mind flow, that’s what you decide.

You’re not stupid, but you wish you were. If you were stupid, you wouldn’t ever be forced to trek away from your home. Wouldn’t grab the attention of anyone smart and shrewd (though you did hear about one ‘Dr. Ratio,’ committed to remedies of ignorance). Even if you somehow did and ended up where you were, maybe your mind would be filled with cotton rather than thoughts. That you could enjoy everything all the time.

But you’re not stupid, nor are you a genius who could hope to outwit the man who holds the aventurine of stratagem. Knowing how normal you are compared to him only makes you more hopeless, so you do your best to fill your mind with cotton again. You feel your inner voice berate you for your willing ignorance but it also cries at its necessity.

Cotton. You needed to fill your head with cotton, because if you didn’t in time (and that time was short when you were with Aventurine) you might just sob again then and there. You think too much. So you won’t think. At least around him. Because…you still don’t want to acknowledge it in your mind. You protect yourself from the brunt of it and effectively live a lie.

“You’re clenching your jaw,” Aventurine’s voice possesses a perpetual drawl, but in moments like this it softens a little. Almost like he’s talking to a person and not something to use. “Just what could it be you’re thinking about?”

Could you even be called a thinking creature right now? Cotton absorbs color, and right now the sun, so big it could engulf you, is so beautiful. You tell him the truth. “The sunset’s beautiful. Really, really beautiful. A lot more beautiful than the others.”

He hums. He knows you’re not lying, but you haven’t answered his question. “You’ve made your affinity for the sight quite clear,” he says, and you only notice that odd edge in his voice from your sheer exposure to the man. Whatever Aventurine has against this sight, you’re not sure. He seems to like sunrises, though, if you can trust the times you’ve woken up and see him watching it. And whenever there is no sun, you wake up to him gone or kissing you awake. Though lately, you’ve been steadily receding from your habit of oversleeping, so you more often wake to the sound of his morning rituals. The hand in your hair tightens, and there’s a small tug, firm but not painful, at your roots. He still wants his answer.

Your mind, chosen to be wrecked with cotton, doesn’t know what to think. You say the only other thing in your absent mind. “This one looks like your eyes.”

You think he likes that because you feel him shift to look at it. You can’t see his face, but you assume he’s taken off his usual smile. Smiling all the time sounded torturous, and you rub your cheek at the phantom pain of your own imagination.

“Hmm…” and you feel him shift again, and you really have no idea what he wants. From the intonation, he’s about to do something either mischievous or ‘flirtatious.’ “You know, sweetheart,” he purrs, the word heavy on his tongue. He shifts, so you lay on the bed and he lays directly across from you. If this were earlier in your relationship you’d fantasize about ripping his throat for robbing you of the sunset; and he’d tut and make sure to evaporate those thoughts. His hair is messed up, his smile soft but still unreadable. The sun shines on the mark on his neck, and something about the sight makes you a bit…happy. And angry. He takes your face in his hands and locks your eyes. You tense a bit out of instinct. Aventurine’s full attention on you was intense and overwhelming, like a bright sun and a feral beast; the bit of dried blood on his lips is proof of it. You make a note to yourself to do more work on hammering your justified instinct away. Your heart feels like it will burst, as his gaze bores into your own. From apprehension or anticipation, you’re not sure. “If that’s the case,” one of his hands trails down your jaw, the ghost of his touch fluttering against the marks he’s painted on your neck. He’d have no issue finding more all around your body. He softly, lovingly holds your neck like he’s prepared to snap it and equally prepared to drown you in his affection. His thumb finds and lightly presses on a mark, one he drew blood from. “Why not take in the real thing, hm?” His thumb presses harder, and you blink back a wince at the pain. He notices, eyes softening impossibly further before relinquishing his thumb and kissing the irritated skin. “Sorry,” he says, but it’s said the same way a cat licks a mouse’s carcass. But you don’t mind. You’ve made sure you don’t mind a lot of things, and it’s made you equally content and miserable. Maybe you hold onto that latter feeling in stubborn defiance, because losing that shred of yourself would turn you into something that You wouldn’t necessarily hate if it were anyone else, but when it’s You becoming that—that, that, You hate.

But you do enjoy being close to someone like this, and hum contentedly to try and focus on that instead. But Aventurine is perceptive, and though his head is below you, you feel as if you’ve been chained up when you once again lock eyes. “I can hear your thoughts, darling,” He returns to his former position, “I hate seeing you all stressed out,” he says, as if his veins weren’t running with anticipation when you were saddled with debt and when your parents got hit with unfortunate ‘accidents’ that insurance couldn’t cover and he didn’t love the day you became his. “Didn’t you say that open and honest communication is important in a healthy relationship? I’m rather fond of our little romance, and I’d hate for it to crumble.” He nearly pouts—doesn’t surprise you much anymore, but there’ll always be a little bit of whiplash that doesn’t quite go away. Though, You feel a slight hint of bitterness—‘crumble?’ Some cotton burns away. Did he mean that for himself? …Or might it have been a vague threat to you…? You think, but you’re quick to fill your head back up with cotton. The process isn’t immediate, however.

“Our relationship is the furthest thing from healthy,” you point out. You don’t add in that you never sought out romance in the first place, “and it hasn’t exactly been built on a sturdy foundation.”

“You’ve got me there,” He chuckles. “Well, let’s put it like this,” he brushes a lock of hair from your face, “I see that my lover’s been saddled with all these thoughts, and it’s gotten them so awfully quiet,” Lover? No, that’s hyperbole. He tucks his fingers underneath your chin, stroking the soft, unmarked skin; the only area spared from his assault. “Makes a guy worry, you know? The last time you were this quiet was when you first moved in.”

Yes. It was mostly because You spent the majority of your free time sobbing, leaving your voice all but spent by the time he got back. And it wasn’t like you could be the goofy and sometimes witty and sometimes not buffoonish person You were when You were so miserable. When you wanted to do everything you could to retreat into your own skin—but Aventurine simply ripped you out, exposed, bloody, and sniffling. After that thought, the cotton has completely grown back.

“…And…?” Through the cotton, you can only wonder what he’s talking about.

His smile becomes sharper, and you wonder if he might feel insulted. Does he think you want to leave him, see him get what he deserved and some actual help like You used to? “C’mon don’t you…” you blink a little vacantly, and he seems to realize something. “Or, maybe you’re…” but his voice suggests something knowing. Suggests experience. And the gears in his mind click. “Oh, I know that look!” He laughs, delightedly or derangedly, you don’t bother to differentiate. Either way it makes you shiver.

“Huh? What look?” You asked, filtered through cotton. He doesn’t answer and cuts to the chase.

He playfully flicks your forehead, and you imagine a bullet going through it, “Riddle me this: what do you want, sweetheart?”

You blink. What do you want? When you first got here, it was security and his or your death. After some time had passed, it was peace. But now…you want whatever storm that’s inside of you to stop. But he doesn’t need to know what you want deep in your soul. So you tell him the truth, filtered through cotton.

You do something that would’ve been unthinkable to You, and worse, it’s subconsciously without a second thought. You push him back down on the bed by laying on him—flopping on him like a fish, You think, for your mind is such a silly little thing—lay your head over his heart, and take in the sunset. The sun’s nearly below the ground. “…If it’s fine, and only if you want…” you ask, because You detest the idea of being controlling, “I’d like you to…” you flush, “…h-hold me, um, like you are right now, until the sun’s down and, um…” your heart is going to burst and there’ll be a hole of viscera through your chest and maybe Aventurine will admire your pathetic, desperate corpse before burning it, “we can take a bath. And,” you look up at him, “I’ll look into your eyes, as much as you want…” You tell yourself it's because you need to appease him. But you know of the primal thing that lives in your chest.

It’s true. But Aventurine puts it perfectly.

His smile speaks of years of clawing his way up with honeyed words and masked expressions. “You’re not lying. Thank you. That’s such a sweet wish,” he says kindly (you’re no longer scared of his kind voice), stroking your head like you are an obedient dog, one that he adores and veers on despising, and then wraps his other arm beneath your thighs, “but you know I’d like the truth.” He then says, primally, ready to carve out a space in your body to inhabit, “To know what storm’s brewing in that little head of yours,” he takes in a shuddering breath, and his eyes light with perverse excitement, “if it’s begun to…crack and burn up.” He sits up and carries you away. You’re slightly disappointed you won’t be seeing the sunset in its entirety, but you’ve gotten good at forgetting. Aventurine sighs wistfully. “But…” he grasps your chin, forcing you to look at him, “I don’t mind that second proposition of yours,” his voice is husky, and he kisses you. You flush, and the cotton is the only thing that prevents you from tearing into him with your canines.

As the sun moves further and further away, You think yourself a fool for thinking it would engulf you. Aventurine wouldn’t leave anything left of you, whenever he decided he was done with you.

—

This is your only choice, and it was everything you could do to not shut down the instant you realized.

You were in denial, at first. It was all just a coincidence, right? You’d always feared this sort of thing—financial struggle—and so getting hit with it should be something you take in stride, and come out of it either in a wreck or just barely getting by. And, if you wanted to get a little nerdy, capitalist economies have to crash into recession eventually, so maybe now was just that time of the era. No place was hiring you, and your parents were getting buried in bills they couldn’t pay.

But, if anyone with half a brain took a step back, they’d call out the bullshit excuse you concocted in your mind, to deny the ridiculous truth. Because whatever recession was happening, it seemed to only affect you; not to mention that this wasn’t even how recessions worked. The truth that you, you, were the apple of someone’s eye (for lack of a better term—you aren’t delusional—you’re just as disposable as the next person, as much as you wish for the universe to cease operating like it).

Preposterous! Scandalous! You, a complete idiot, catching someone’s fancy? How the fuck did that happen?! Were pigs flying now? …You take that back, there are indeed flying species of the hog persuasion gallivanting about in the cosmos. But this does not detract from your point. One might say “bimbo vibes,” but you know for a fact, even taking into account your own bias and self-perpetuation of your self-esteem issues (which makes you still having them even worse, but you’ve already gone down that spiral more than you could count), that you do not have anywhere near enough bimbo energy to attract anyone with that kink. Or the looks. This was your knee-jerk reaction to the situation. And to an extent, still is, because thinking about it like that gives the situation a bit of levity you desperately need. You can’t wrap your head around it in the slightest. But you can’t dispute fact. And the fact is that you are wanted by someone else, and you can’t even begin to understand why. Least of all the person who wants you.

The man who hides behind the name ‘Aventurine.’ That fact alone already makes you not want to be so closely associated, and it makes everything more insane and stupid. An IPC executive has no use for you. If he wants to extort you for unpaid or cheap labor, he’s already got a vast selection of underpaid grunts to do his bidding. If there’s one thing the IPC knows how to do, it’s keeping those desperate enough or arrogant enough trapped. You’re not either of those things; though you admit you’ve adapted the former trait in light of recent bullshittery, but you digress.

Most of what you come up with is met with an easy counter. Aventurine, a sleazy businessman obsessed with sex? He has money—he can just hire a prostitute; hell, you’re sure there are plenty of people who’d throw themselves at him for no charge. Sure, most of them would be coming into it with their own agendas, but he’s sharper than that. Aventurine, a man with insatiable greed? Again, he’s already rich as fuck, and the only way he’s getting any more money is if he looks up the pecking order. Whatever wealth you offer as an asset (the thought churns your stomach) is barely a drop in the bucket. Aventurine, a gambler who loved seeing his opponents fall into ruin? That was actually plausible to some extent, but you’ve made it very clear you’re no gambler (not in tangible matters at least, but you keep your card close to your heart). Then maybe he wants to try and push you over the edge? Try to make you take a risk bigger than yourself?

So, you’ve settled for this: Aventurine, a man who cannot stand to be sober from the drink called “power.” Desiring complete domination over someone. A personal matter, and briefly you hear the echo of a quote: “We desire that which we do not have.” What doesn’t Aventurine have?

…A relationship? Well, you shoot that down easily. Whatever kind of relationship this leads to ends with you ruined and him hunting after his next prey.

He’s a bit like a serial killer, you muse, and you just so happen to meet his criteria for victimhood. But unlike a killer, he’s merely going to make you wish you were dead. If you wanted death, it’d have to be at your own hands. If he gave you that option at all. Another thought you have is that he might use you for snuff or something else equally or more horrific. That’s…you haven’t pursued the thought any further.

You’ve been robbed of much of your control, but you still control the hand that knocks at the door. If you’re going down, it’ll be on your own terms. This is your last, desperate attempt to pretend you have any control at all. You make sure your bangs cover your eyes.

You just wish your heart didn’t feel like it would explode. You wish that you weren’t actively holding back from breaking down into a sobbing mess. You wish you were made of the same steel heroes were, but you cannot be what you are doomed to not be.

Aventurine opens the door, giving you a grin that makes you retch. He’s dressed in his usual peacock-esque finery, and something about it makes you frown. Maybe it’s because he’s dressed in the colors you love—forest green, the blue of the sky, the black of where the moon does not shine—and it feels so wrong for something that wants to destroy you to be clad in them. “Sweetheart!” he coos out the wretched (and cringe-worthy) pet name with faux surprise; it propels you to roll your eyes even now. He knew you were coming; otherwise, you’d be detained by hotel staff. It didn’t quite help that you didn’t really bother to dress up either. It made you stick out like a sore thumb, and you’re glad that this is the only time you’ll be at a gaudy hotel. “You’ve come to visit little ol’ me! I’m charmed. Aren’t I a lucky man?”

You fantasize about his guts strewn about on the floor, accompanied by your maniacal laughter and sobs of elated despair. “...You could say that, Mr. Aventurine,” you aren’t foolish enough to be curt, so you settle for polite and cordial. Professional and businesslike, though you know that gives him a slight advantage. “There’s something I wish to discuss with you. I think that’s best accomplished behind closed doors.”

He clicks his tongue playfully. “No need to be so cold. We’re friends here, aren’t we?”

“I suggest you drop the ‘sweetheart,’ then. Friends don’t call each other that, Mr. Aventurine.”

He raises his hand in mock surrender, and you want him to get to the fucking point before you lose your nerve. “Oh, fine. Then,” he gestures to the lion’s den. If only he were the gentleman he was pretending to be. “Walk on in, darling.” You cannot suppress the groan that comes out of you. His smile widens; you're sure he gets some kick at riling you up.

You don’t have the energy to deal with him, and you certainly don’t have enough to suppress the sigh of irritation you let out. He seems to look like…some sort of positive emotion that you don’t know what to name. You’re not sure if you want to name it.

The sunlight catches his predatory yet enrapturing eyes. His eye twitches, clearly trying not to shut. Maybe, you muse, the sun hates him as much as you do. It brings a weak smile to your face. You make sure to take your sweet time to enter. You won’t take off your shoes, either. He can deal with a bit of tracked dirt, you think, but then you notice that he’s wearing his shoes as well. In his own place. And here you thought he was monstrous enough.

But when the door shuts, any semblance of levity you could summon dissipates, and you’re reminded of what you’re here to do. Aventurine’s hand snakes up on your shoulder, and you want to rip it off and feed it to the birds. Thankfully, he just leads you to the living room. The sun is cast overhead.

“So,” he circles till he’s in front of you, “What could be so important that you’ve come to see me this time of day?” The cat purrs to the mouse, petting it with claws retracted; for the time being. It makes you abandon courtesy for curtness.

“Don’t act like you didn’t cancel some business meeting to make this happen.”

“Oh! You’ve got me!” he chuckles, “My, you’ve already gotten to know me so well. Don’t you think we’re like two peas in a pod?” He teases, and you know he specifically means for it to piss you off. Not to mention it’s an incredible reach. But to his credit, it works.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you spit, and his hand lets you back away from him. “I was thinking about…” you take a sharp breath—you can’t lose your nerve now, “...the ‘deal,’ you gave me a little while ago. The gamble, to be more precise.”

His smile stretches so wide it seems to crack his face, and you feel phantom pain radiating along your own mouth. His eyes, those alluring and dangerous rims of pink and electric blue, are spiked with adrenaline. You wonder if his eyes are dilating, but you don’t want to look at his eyes any longer than you have to. “I knew you would come around. But I see it in your eyes—you want to discuss the terms, right?”

He’s right. “Yes.”

“Admirable,” he says lazily, “but before you start, you should know that I’m not budging on my reward.”

“I know,” you bitterly say, “this is about my reward.”

Interest ignites, burning the blue of his eyes hot with intrigue.

“If I win, then I want you to reimburse my family, and then some, for all of the shit you’re making them go through. And then I want you to leave them the hell alone and not harm them.”

You can’t tell if he looks more interested or disappointed. “That’s hardly different from our original deal. The only difference is that you’re not getting any compensation.” At least he doesn’t deny that he’s the one the source of your family woes this time. Likely because you two already jumped through that point. You may not be sharp, but there are things even you can’t be gaslit on, and you think Aventurine realized this and decided not to bother. “Do you really hate the idea of getting money from me? You do remember that I told you that you can use me however you want, right?”

Money that’s sourced from less than savory grounds, you think. You hate how he wants to use you, and you equally hate using anybody. “Yes. You made that very clear. I know what I’m doing. Now, come on.”

“Don’t be so hasty. I’ll have to modify my will so—”

“No need. Get the gun already.” You aren’t too worried anyway. Businessmen like him know to honor their deals. He’ll probably dismiss it easily and assume you’ll either donate it to charity or give it to your family.

He laughs, not so dissimilar from nails digging into a chalkboard, “You’re that eager to kill me? And you were so against it too! I wouldn’t have expected your morals to shift so quickly.”

You bite your lip. “You don’t seem to be all too worried about dying,” you point out, “You were the one who proposed this in the first place.” Another reason you don’t want to associate with this man. He treats his own life far too callously, and it doesn’t take a genius to know that whatever there is to unpack, it’s bursting at the seams. Normally you would’ve been sympathetic, but this is the manner of man that wants to seize you. You don’t want to know what would happen to you, under his dominion.

Still, at least you know that he prizes adrenaline above all else. Why else would he risk his life for a hit of it? It’s useful info and also the only wrinkle in your plan…but you’re not banking on this entirely.

Aventurine doesn’t respond, but his eyes accentuate his mirthful grin. It reminds you of yourself, muttering a joke under your breath. You do like inside jokes, but you cannot say the same for the ones you’re left out of. No matter how demented this man’s humor is, knowing what he finds funny would at least give you more to glean on him. A part of you does enjoy piecing together puzzles, even ones you can’t solve.

He produces a simple revolver from his jacket. Sleek and as dark as a moonless night, even you can tell that its craftsmanship is more than deserving of admiration. But it spikes your anxiety. You want to dig a hole and suffocate, to feel your lungs burn like lava and to have your fingers raw when you have second thoughts and desperately try to claw your way out. You blink back tears, but you know what you must do.

He takes his sweet time with the gun, but you don’t pay attention. Your eyes are trained on the ground as you try and fail to psych yourself up. You know what you're doing. Your parents would tell you this was a bad choice, and you agree, but you weren’t given very many good choices.

A shot rings out. Glass shatters from behind you. The coffee table. Your breath halts. Something searing and hard digs into your chin, forcing you to look up. Your gaze is misty from the pain, for you’re more resilient to the cold, not the heat.

“Sweetheart,” he smiles kindly, “I don’t like being ignored.” Despite your best efforts, a tear has rolled down your cheek. Your chin feels like it will be seared and forever be fiery hot. You need to get this over with before your mouth starts to uncontrollably twitch into a frown. He roughly lodges the gun from your chin, but replaces it with a kind touch that sends spiders crawling down your back. “Aw…” he coos, his cheeks faintly dusted with pink as he begins to lean in, “there’s no need to cry, dear.”

You can’t stop it. You let out something that sounds like a growl, and shove him off of you. “You don’t get to touch me,” you hiss, a sound you didn’t know you were capable of, “Hands to yourself,” For some indiscernible reason, another tear falls, “you haven’t won anything yet.”

He’s not fazed. “Ah, I suppose I’ll have to concede there,” for now, “Here you go then, friend,” Despite his claim of concession he yanks your arm up and forces it in your grip, “Let’s see who luck favors.”

You shake, a little, but you’re not shaken enough to lose all your rationality. “Is there still a bullet in here?”

“Yep,” he pops the p, like you two were old pals, “though I suppose I should roll the chamber again. Give me a second.” He takes the gun away and gets to work. You’re both thankful and sobbing on the inside. At this rate, your ribs will be dust from how your heart hammers into them.

It’s back in your hand after what feels like an eternity and a microsecond. “Now there shouldn’t be any problems. Feel free to start shooting,” he purrs, adjusting it to point toward his chest. He moves to secure the barrel to his chest, and you must act now. You’re shaking and you want to die—

Ah.

Good.

You won’t lose your nerve then.

“Actually,” your words shake with imminent tears and ramping fears, “there’s another term I wanted to discuss.” Your words aren’t threatening, but it’s ominous enough to give Aventurine pause. Now that he’s given you the inch, you’re taking the mile. You take a deep breath. It could be one of your last.

You’ve forced the barrel against your forehead. You’ve either gasped or Aventurine’s breath has hitched. You feel tears welling up, but you’ve made it too far for things to end here. You will yourself through your terror. “If I get shot, I win. If I don’t, you win.”

A tense silence whistles about. The air is almost electric from shock. But you know what you’re doing. You know it’s stupid, but you’re hopeless and this is the closest thing to a shred of hope you can grasp. See, you did a bit of research (on a library computer; you weren’t taking your chances). You found out that there are a few stories (very few, buried underneath the announcements of a music video and interviews and what-have-you) about Aventurine playing roulette—and even more about how he’s made numerous casino goers lose everything. In other words, he’s a lucky bitch.

And you’re not that lucky. You doubt your luck is good enough for a regular gamble, but for your life? You treasure it, and sealing the gun to your head leaves you on the cusp of a breakdown. This is what you’re banking on: you’re not lucky enough to win a gamble, but you’re unfortunate enough to lose your life over something so inconsequential. Your parents would murder you if they saw you. Say you owe them nothing, and you do agree—but you can’t shake your habit of overpaying them. You’ve left a note at home for them to dig up, but it wouldn’t be an apology. If there’s an afterlife, you’ll apologize for eternity. You think the only way you can apologize is by searing your soul in the hells till nothing is left of you.

You do have a more selfish reason for taking this approach, but it’s also incorrigible and unreasonable. You don’t need to dissect it.

You think he’ll take it up. Sure, maybe the adrenaline he’ll get won’t be as great if he were the target, but so far he’s been the type to take pleasure in pushing others down a peg. He smiles at your distress, after all. So surely your quivering, sniveling form is giving him a kick? And surely, surely he’ll want to see your eyes glassy, your expression forever contorted in a fearful, desperate sob?

But Aventurine’s voice is missing its usual lilt. It’s hard, no longer deceptively light. Not playfully pushy but demanding. Maybe this is how he speaks to his enemies, you think, suppressing the urge to crawl into yourself. “…What?” A shard of ice is lodged in your back and makes your heart skip a beat from the surprise. But you can deal with the cold. It helps that it numbs the piercing pain in your back.

“I said what I said,” you push the terrifying thing harder into your skull, “these are my terms.” You’re more adamant than ever to not look into his eyes. You fixate on your shoes. You won’t speak more than necessary.

He seemingly contemplates for a moment. You’re about to push further when he finally speaks. “Do you remember what I said when I first proposed this gamble?”

Your mind is too fear-stricken for recollection. “You say a lot of things. C-can’t remember all of them.” Shit, your mouth has twitched a bit.

Shockingly Aventurine doesn’t poke fun at that, and is unusually focused. “I don’t take deals where I’m on the losing end. You’ve skewed this far too much in your favor.”

No. Oh, no. You were wrong about something. Lava starts to sting at your eyes. If you were wrong about this, then what else were you wrong about?!

“W-what? You’re not the one risking your life!” You exclaim, and it makes you look up at him, “How are you on the losing end?!” You shriek, because you aren’t a composed person at heart.

His eyes, lifeless and intense, widen as they bore into your own, pinning you down. If you squirm, you think he would stab knives in them to keep you down. You’re afraid of even blinking. He isn’t smiling and your knees want to shake. “Let’s go through this one by one, so you understand. One: what do I want?”

“W-wha?”

He repeats himself, harsher. “What. Do. I. Want?”

You settle for the safest answer. Your heart feels dead. You’re sure it will wither to dust. “M-me?”

“Bingo.” It scares you that he’s not saying that with a lilt. It scares you that he’s not trying to manipulate you. It scares you how there’s only a thread between him ripping you in half. “And here’s something very, very important to know about me,” his hand caresses your cheekbone, positioned to catch any tears that fall, or to crush your skull, “I do whatever it takes to get what I want.”

“Then how is this different?! You’re still taking the risk of not getting what you want no matter how you slice it!”

The smile he gives you is all at once angelic and biting. “I don’t like it when I don’t get what I want.” His pupils dilate. Your eyes well up looking into the malice and…something, that plunges you in ice water. “If I can’t get what I want…hm, how do I describe it?” his voice begins to regain its lilt, fueled by your increasing distress. He smiles like he’s teaching a child a lesson, but you swear his eyes are growing duller. “Well, it’s like being trapped in a land without dawn,” his other hand softly holds your shoulder and it feels so wrong because you swear he’s holding back from brutalizing you, “there are chains around your neck, ankles, wrists, waist, eyes…” he chuckles sardonically, and a vindictive grin spreads as he leans in, till you can feel the ghost of his breath, “your life is a living hell, but the cold of the metal seeps down to your very bone.” You yelp; his grip has tightened. “Something stirs in your chest,” the hand caressing your face comes to rest over your heart, “begging to destroy everything and everyone that’s made you suffer.” His fingers dig into your chest, as if he’ll rip out your heart. “Tell me, my friend, do you want a man like that alive?”

You want to close your eyes so badly. Your mind is an inky landscape, blackening every single thought you hold. A soft flutter to your cheek knocks you out of your stupor. You register expensive perfume, something tickling your skin, and soft lips kissing away your tears. Immediately you shove away the opportunistic beast and stumble in your escape.

You’re in too deep. You need to make this work, because as much as you're terrified, something deep within you purrs at the weakness he’s given you.

But it’s good to know how spiteful he is. You already feel much better about your own plan. Both parts of you purr in delight: one knows you must twist the knife, and the other has been waiting for the opportunity.

“Coward,” your mouth is faster than your mind, “you coward!” Your meager wit and anguish over the past few months begin to tumble out uncontrollably, “I don’t care about your shit—you’ve hardly given me any say about anything. You’ve had the upper hand this entire time, and now you want to backpedal? This is too much risk for you?!” You heave, and you’re too enraged to care about how disgusting you must look, “You said to me there’s nothing you like more than a good gamble. Well, I’ve got a GREAT gamble for you, and if you’re upset you’ve got no one but yourself to blame! You wormed your way into my life, you orchestrated its steady decline, and you pushed me right here! You don’t get to back out of this like a coward!” You’re breathing heavily, and your vision is watery red, and you throw the gun in what you think is his general direction, and your vitriol spills out of you, “Take it and take whatever fucking risk exists! Languish for a month or a day or an hour because you didn’t get what you want like a little baby! If I’m going down, you’re coming down with me!” You’re heaving at this point, and you absently lean on the couch so you don’t collapse. Your composure is in shambles, but you’ll try to save a complete breakdown for when your choices catch up to you and you’re choking on your own blood.

You hear a slow, rhythmic clap, and it shocks you that your ears aren’t flooding with blood at it. You hesitantly look up to see Aventurine grinning like a beast.

“You, dragging me down…” the lilt has come back, and you realize that he likes something about this; that he’s schemed a part of it, “...so I see.” He drawls. He tilts his head, regarding you with the interest one has in an animal displayed in a zoo. “I’ll admit,” each slow step he takes toward you makes you sink further into the couch, “I was expecting you to cave with that. Yet you still insist…sweetheart,” should you be glad he’s calling you that again? “Let me be the first to tell you that it’s a great honor to push people like you into a corner. You were correct to fear me to try and avoid this.” So you were right on one thing, but it’s only a single thing. He’s inching ever so closely, and before you can start getting away he’s pounced on you.

You yelp in surprise and begin to thrash, “You—get, get off of me!” You attempt to be intimidating, but your intense terror makes you seem like nothing more than a child scared to get a shot. Perfume burns your nostrils. More tears are shed, but he’s merciful enough to not lap them up just yet.

He giggles and just pins you down. He waits until you're humiliated and exhausted before continuing. Your mouth twitches, and against your better judgment a sob brews in your chest. Your mind floods with ink, now. You try to tell yourself to keep it together, but the more you repeat it the more terrified you become. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d change the terms like this,” you squirm and look away—you don’t have the bravery to look at him directly right now. He lets you. “I was sort of expecting you to try and stand up for yourself, or maybe even demand I put in two bullets…but, you’ve run counter to my expectations. For one, I didn’t have you pinned to be this spiteful, nor this willing to give up your life.” You flinch and make a hateful sound as he starts to pat your head, continuing on as if this was the most normal conversation in the world, like he was the most normal person in the room, as he smiles so warmly—you’re a frog being boiled, but you’re too tired and afraid to retort, “Heh, this must’ve taken all of your guts to do, right?” The affection in his voice forms a lump in your throat. “I’m proud of you. Take pride in that,” he wipes away a tear, “and you’re right.” Suddenly, all warmness is gone and you’re blasted with heat. His grin shows his teeth, and for a moment you think you’ve really died. “I’ve always loved the thrill of going all in.” He laughs, a depraved sound of hedonism and complete despair, “If I win, it’s the jackpot. I get you, and you get me.” Get him? “And if I lose,” your head is tipped up by the cooled barrel of the gun to look into his eyes—

You whimper. The only thing that registers in your mind is that you’ve found yourself in a fox’s jaw about ready to clamp down.

“I live with my loss at the hands of a nobody. And it’ll gnaw at me from the inside…” he says breathlessly, “Yes, that’s a risk I can see myself getting behind,” Ink has made your soul quiver further. “And only taking deals on the winning end…I do that enough for business. That's to say…” he suddenly pulls you up, causing you to stumble and lean into him. He chuckles as your addled mind and body reorient, but the arm slung around your waist prevents you from straying too far. It’s the pillar you must rely on, but one wrong step and it will crumble to dust.

It scares you.

But.

There’s another side to your fear. What sort of things do we fear, you think? These months have taught you that people hate that which they fear. When the fear amps up, so does the hate. You aren’t blind to how he looks at you. He’d vivisect you if it got him what he wanted. Your teeth grind. Oh, you hate him, you hate him so much. But your hate doesn’t burn, nor does it freeze. It’s a part of you; it hums through your veins; it thrums with the beat of your heart. There is nothing special about what is merely a fact of life. You are its vessel, and for that it sustains you.

You won’t see the fallout of your victory, but the mere idea sends a wave of ecstasy through you.

The barrel of the revolver presses against your heart.

“I accept your terms.” His voice edges with adrenaline and delight, but, and rather exquisitely, your instincts think, an edge that he must be the one to win this gamble—that in this moment, for him to live with loss is completely undesirable. It pleases you greatly, that you seemed to have ever so slightly peeled off his mask. But unfortunately for him, you’re not lucky enough to avoid a stupid death. You quiver, but not with fear; not entirely. Still, a part of you wonders if he’s just been testing you with his easy agreement. Should you be glad if you got full marks? Or should you hope you’ve failed?

Still, a brief feeling of levity blooms in your chest, and you seize it immediately.

You did it. And unexpectedly, rather than further terror, relief washes over the heat and ink, because now that you’ve felt dead so often in such a short time, death is salvation. But just as quickly as the water came, a blizzard freezes the sea.

Click. His lips are against yours.

Of course. He wouldn’t let your final moments be pleasant.

He takes advantage of your inexperience to entangle your tongues, and his hand against your head pushes you deeper and deeper as he tries to devour you. You gasp and tear up when he bites and bruises your lips. You’d like to fight back, but you want to get this over with. Even if it means being taken advantage of in your last moments, mother death’s repentance is merely a chamber or two away.

But still, no matter how demented you are in the moment, you are human, and the instinctual desire to survive makes you recoil. The eye contact exacerbates it. His eyes hold a sea. On the surface, you can freely see the coral and starfish, difficult to understand but beautiful. But deeper, where the sunlight does not shine, the predators have taken to hunting one another, having wiped out the prey. And when only one is left, then it can only move up and up, until it’s the only thing left standing. And now it looks to consume you to satiate its unending appetite. Your lungs burn.

You’d love to shut your eyes, but doing so feels like losing. At least when you do so, you can see yourself be devoured. Your awareness of yourself is the only agency you have right now.

Click. He pulls away, and you take in a greedy breath. You feel a deep imprint on your lips; a bite, just barely not drawing blood. Your heart beats and a tear trickles; you’re not dead yet. That’s ok. You’ll be dead in a moment.

“You look so certain you’ll win,” he observes, “it’s a good look on you.”

You scrunch your nose. “Pull the trigger. I’m getting sick of looking at you.”

“But, if I do, then you might breathe your last,” his eyes narrow, though you’re not sure if it’s predatory or softening, “can’t I take the sight of you in?”

“Ha!” You cough it out. “For a man who dresses to the nines, you sure have bad taste.”

“Aw, don’t demean yourself like that,” he mockingly reassures, “I’ll have you know you’re perfectly enchanting.”

You decide to play along because banter is banter, and no matter how spiteful you are, you’ll take comfort and levity where you can find it. “And you’re a Knight of Beauty.” Absently, you wonder how terrible you must look. You feel your eyes still well with tears, still sniffling back bits of snot every now and then.

You’re not sure if everything’s just catching up to you, or if the thought has propelled you to the realization, but you’re so, so, so tired. It does make your tears dry, a little, and your muscles relax.

You see he’s starting to lean in again, and you immediately put a hand between you and his lips. “Don’t.” You growl. “Just…just shoot,” you sigh in exhaustion, “I’m tired. Just shoot. If you’re not satisfied, then you’ll have my corpse.” The implication is disgusting but he’s disgusting, and you really just want to sleep. You’re pretty sure he would’ve done it even without you saying.

His hand drifts down to your waist. “Can’t say the image is pleasant.” Is his voice colder? Tired? Distant? Or are you finally losing it?

“I’m already a teary mess. It’ll just be colder and a little stiff.”

He scoffs, “If I wanted someone steely, you wouldn’t be here.” True.

You bite your cheek and look at your feet. “Shoot.”

There’s a pause in the air. You wonder if he’s contemplating on saying something to you, or just getting it over with. Both would make sense. You close your eyes. You will yourself to not think, because you know if you do that your life will just flash before your eyes. And if that happens, you’ll die completely miserable.

Click.

You’re breathing. His hand is on your waist. The gun’s pressed to your chest. Nothing’s changed. Why aren’t you on the ground choking on blood?

“I win.” You hear. You shut your eyes when sunlight gets into them.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

You’re still here.

It didn’t work. It didn’t pay off. Your knees give out as you finally are no longer able to keep your tears at bay. You feel fluttering around your eyes, and you dare not open them. Shhh, shhh, you hear, but you only cry more. Everything has come to impale you, and you cry as you feel your organs spill. You’re his. You’re his. You want to die. Everything is coated in ink. You process nothing but the terror and rage and fear and despair and laughter and anything and everything you’ve ever experienced. You try to curl in on yourself, but you’re stopped by a beast’s hold, warm and predatory.

“Shhh, it’s alright…” a hand strokes you to soothe, but it’s more akin to sandpaper rubbing on raw skin, “Let it all out…we have plenty of time. I don’t have to hold back and neither do you,” he reassures. It makes you sob harder.

You heave and sob. All you can think about is the unknown future that awaits you. You barely register being placed on a plush surface.

When your sobs finally quiet, you’re forced to look into his eyes. There’s a flush on his cheek, a slight inconsistency in his breathing, and his eyes have dilated with adrenaline and…and…you’ve never seen that emotion before, whatever it is.

You wonder what face you’re making, as he smiles ferally. “You were right. That was great,” he hisses with elation and laughs. “Oh, you’re beautiful.”

The world spins. You’re lying, and he’s on top of you.

Oh…oh no…You begin to flinch and twitch uncontrollably. You aren’t thinking. You flail, kick, and cry even as you exhaust your meager energy, but he doesn’t budge. You need to get away get away get away get away—

“One last thing, to really seal the deal,” he smiles, insidiously kind and horrifying, “to commemorate my victory and your defeat.”

He bites into your neck, and you scream.

The fox swallows you whole.

—

He lets you roam freely, whenever he’s gone. To say you were baffled and suspicious was putting it lightly, so you refrained from taking advantage of it for a long, long time. In fact, when you found out his spaceship-apartment-thing was mounted with surveillance in every nook and cranny, rather than walk out the door, you found a cramped closet to hide in for a few days. Curling into a ball all day wasn’t easy on the joints, but you were taking any semblance of privacy you could get. But Aventurine, petty and cruel, forced you to seal off your haven with your own hands before he tore into you. If he wants you in his sights or roaming about, he should just make up his mind already.

But, for this one occasion, you choose to abuse this privilege. You usually come back around the same time he does to appease him, but you finally decided you needed a vacation after he forced you into one of his stupid gambles and forced you to fulfill another of his especially perverted fantasies; on top of forcing you to help him get acquainted with a gacha you played—and he’d be the direct cause of your cake turning out burnt. Sure, there are those big moments where lava and ink converge, but it’s the little things which sting and nick that pile up. The real kicker was when he forced you two to share a plate of pasta one night and when, of course, you two landed on the same noodle, he had the brilliant idea to suck it up at the speed of light; likely hoping it would get him to your lips sooner. How romantic, making out while you both had half chewed food in your mouths; you truly could not commend this man’s genius enough! Unfortunately for his plans and your sanity, you couldn’t keep up, and that is why you know what it’s like to have tomato sauce in your eyes. Not to mention that there were pepperoncinis in there. You were washing it out for days. At least he seemed genuinely apologetic over it, but copious amounts of jewelry don’t supplement how he never asks if you even want or like it.

So, yeah, you’re no fan of how he fucks with you. You gladly made this choice, and all the risk it came with.

“So, this is where you’ve been.” You think he’s still a little surprised, just as you are. You haven’t done much in the way of defiance, both because you wanted nothing more than to remain within yourself, and because you feared his retaliation (very, very much). The few risks you have taken never pay off. Even this one didn’t pay off in full: for you didn’t even go to see your parents. You tried to tell them the horrible truth and because they deserved to know their child’s fate, but every time you approached their house, something stopped you. Shame, fear, embarrassment, sheepishness…you don’t know. You almost laugh. To think, a quarter of why you’re here is because of the danger they were placed in, yet you can’t even muster the courage to talk to them. Maybe you want them to think you’re dead, because then that’s the version of you that’ll be eternal in their minds: loving, goofy, brimming with potential and optimistic pessimism; and not the pathetic wimp you truly are. The mere risk of seeing disappointment shine in their eyes (they wouldn’t but what if they did? What if?) was enough to scare you off. You dismiss them from your mind because you have to deal with Aventurine, unfortunately. You wonder if you’ll forget them, if you cast them out of your mind enough. “I’m charmed. Our special place.”

You scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself. This was mine before you ever came here, and it still is.”

You met each other here on a moonlit night. You couldn’t see each others’ faces, but it didn’t stop you from conversing. You don’t bother to think about it more, because what started as a memory that made you feel warm now enshrouds you in a volcanic blizzard. You’ve already mulled over it plenty anyway—on how such a mundane conversation started all of…this.

Now, the sun is setting. It calms you down.

“Darling, this is a national park. You don’t own it.”

You tsk. “Shut up. I don’t feel like dealing with you right now. And you literally called this place ‘ours,’ you conniving bastard.”

“Unfortunate,” his arm slings across your shoulders, “because it’s been such a lonely week without you…” you don’t share the sentiment. His other arm cages you by the waist. You imagine his body rupturing and exploding, showering blood and guts that you’d dance in. Or would you soak yourself in his organs, to savor his defeat? Maybe you’d open your mouth, let your mouth and throat be coated in his blood so you—

Huh. Something’s off again. You are no stranger to violent thoughts, but lately, at rare times, your fantasies get accompanied by something strange you can’t quite put your finger on.

You make a face, as you look at him over your shoulder with a deadpan glare, “And you’ve let me parade about.”

He giggles. “What? I had no clue you were here till a few hours ago! Honest.”

“Says the surveillance freak.” You wave your phone, “Not to mention I’ve so conveniently kept this tracker with me.”

He drops the act. “You didn’t even try to cover up your tracks.” He sighs, “I must say, your defeatism is probably the least attractive part of you. Can’t say I really understand.”

Then why does he still keep you around? It’s already been nearly half a year.

“You and I have no illusions that I can escape you, and I lost a bet. I try not to be a sore loser.”

“And yet you so often cry when you lose our games. Kick and scream sometimes.”

Your chest feels hollow, and you hate the feeling so much that you want to die right then and there. “What, should I be jumping for joy when you rape me?”

Silence. You can almost think he’s a little remorseful. But then his fingers snake up to pull at your collar. Peeling back your skin, to try and coax you out of it. More like tear you out.

You scoff, but your eyes heat up. “Seriously?” Your voice carries a mix of disappointment, anger, fear, and despair. It cracks, “Hardly three minutes and right after I—”

“Relax,” he’s so soothing that your muscles tense up and your heart beats to the nines—what a reassuring boyfriend! He continues his ministrations until he has a good view of your neck, and hums in pleasure, “I can’t say I’m entirely peachy with what you’ve done, but you haven’t been that bad—” you feel yourself slightly relax, “—so we’ll get a room first.” And your heart drops, but you did expect this. He hums, and you can practically hear the grin in his voice, “Unless…you’d like to really make this our special place?”

No. He can’t he can’t he can’t he can’t he won’t—The slightest bit of life crosses your relatively lifeless face. “Don’t you fucking dare—!”

He covers your mouth, silencing you, and squeezes tight when you try to speak; you feel something in you wither. “Alrighty, I get the idea,” He casually concedes, but you doubt he was all too adamant if he dropped it so easily. “We’ll both save ourselves for later. In the meantime, let’s keep quiet, mhm? We really wouldn’t want anyone to just interrupt us.”

You seethe, but then his grip becomes near painful. Humiliation wells in your chest, as the muzzle tightens. You forcibly relax, and reluctantly nod. Fresh air has never been sweeter. A drop of sweat trickles down your face.

“Good. Very good,” he purrs. “You’re always so good; thank you. I’m glad you see the mutual benefit in doing so.” He brushes a spot at your neck. It’s the spot he first bit you in, and thinking about it still makes you shake in pain. And he’s always sucking or biting at it to stake his stupid claim. You brace yourself. And right on cue he’s latched on, and your scream is muffled by your hand. You’d like to say you’ve gotten used to it, but you’ve never had a good tolerance for pain. Against your wishes, tears fall. Aventurine lunges at the opportunity, sensually licking them and leaving behind a disgusting trail of slime to dry. He kisses your cheekbone, leaving behind a weeping crimson flower, “You really are a crybaby…” his voice sends spiders crawling into your ear.

You desperately wipe your cheek with your sleeves, mostly because you know shoving him away doesn’t work when he gets like this. And then your short lived adrenaline fades.

“Shit!” He’s drawn blood. Again. And you liked this shirt! But you can see why he doesn’t—it was a high collar and a long sleeve, able to cover the mural of bites and bruises he leaves on your body. The majority were faded, but some of them were just a little more permanent. You briefly wonder why he’d ruin your shirt; he’s made it very clear that the mural is for his eyes alone. You suspect he wanted to create an excuse so you’d be forced to wear some jacket or shirt of his.

“Sorry,” he kisses the spot, but each kiss burns you. You don’t understand why he bothers to say the word when you both know he’s not capable of feeling remorse, at least, not for you. He keeps stinging your tender flesh.

You groan, blinking back mist. “You’re making it worse.”

“Sorry,” he repeats, giving you a bloody peck on the cheek, “but can you blame me? You’re not wearing any of my gifts. Makes a guy a little jealous, y’know?” He kisses your cheek again, firmer to imprint his bloody kiss.

“Yes, I can blame you for making conscious decisions,” you coldly snap, but you’re already tired, “Once again, jewelry is overrated and I reaffirm that your taste is shit.”

“I recall my jewelry and clothes were some of the first things you complemented.”

“Aye,” it’s true, but you see an opportunity for levity and take it, “but I have since evolved from my follious self.”

He’s getting that feral look in his eye again. Why?! You didn’t even do anything! You snap. “What is it? Spit it.”

“You’re doing it again.”

You can’t stand his touch any longer. “Doing what?” You hiss, shoving him away from you so you can face him. But you almost wish he didn’t let you, because there are few things he would trade for you in his hold.

He whistles. It feeds your frustration. You assume that it’s what he usually wants from you. “If this is some weird sexual innuendo then it’s fallen flat on its ass, you affluent horndog. I thought you said to wait later, anyway.”

He blinks in brief shock, before laughing—his canines shine in the orange sunset, “No, no no, not this time around. Let’s put it this way, and I’ll be very clear, just for you,”

As he calms down, an angelic smile spreads in his face, and you know you’re looking straight at damnation.

“I’ve learned that defeatists succumb to themselves. Pushing them past their limit helps, but it’s not entirely necessary.”

…In the back of your mind, you make a horrific realization.

You have tilled fields, so You may eventually sow them with cotton.

—

What does your face look like, right now? If you hazard a guess, it might be bestial. You only know your eyes are wide open and not flooding.

In an unexpected subversion, it is you who pins Aventurine to the ground. You don’t pay much mind to his expression: parted lips, breathless, glimmering interest and fulfilled desire in his eyes; it’s unusual and you would’ve drank it in if not for the tornado in your mind. It’s torn through some cotton, leaving the field barely clutching to life.

“What. Were. You. Thinking?” You do not recognize your own voice. You feel your body shaking and find that you’re breathing heavily.

He smiles. “You watch me gamble all the time, dearest.” His head tips in faux questioning, “I don’t see how that’s gotten you so worked up—and you’ve been so sweet lately.”

You grind your teeth. He hasn’t answered you. “You played Russian Roulette.”

The body of his opponent is slumped on the table across from you two. Their blood continually drips, crying out in defeat. You couldn’t care less about that, because there’s a thought playing on repeat in your mind.

That could’ve been his body.

His eyes twinkle as he smirks, “Are you jealous?” He cruelly teases, “Did you want to kill me, or were you hoping to take the bullet yourself?”

“No.” You’re not being sensible. The cotton in your mind is shredding. You want to balk at the idea, and You want to jump at the opportunity. “Answer my question.”

“Mmm,” he hums, and his nonchalance makes you shake, “well, I suppose I’m in no position to refuse. It was a good gamble with a good thrill, of course! I thought you knew this.”

He’s right. You know just how much pleasure he takes in putting everything on the line. Your question is answered, but for some reason it’s still not satisfied. The few surviving patches of cotton are still in your way.

That depraved feral look in his eyes only grows at your internal battle, and his gloved hand cups your cheek. “What’s wrong?” He goads. “Or have you finally come around to just how irresistible I am?”

For a moment, the cotton has come back, regrowing into a beautiful field. But then the scent of blood wafts to your nose, and all of your senses have increased tenfold. The drip of blood sounds like pouring rain, poking numerous holes; the tile below your palms are lifeless slabs of ice, sticking itself to you so you’d have to rip your skin off to get away; blood and perfume and spilled champagne root themselves into your sinuses, bleeding

them out; chocolate and salt roil on your tongue, scraping along like a rusty iron blade; and Aventurine, beautiful, cruel, loving Aventurine, has never looked clearer, so enthrallingly vivid and colorful you are tempted to sob at the beauty alone.

Hell hath flourished, and it burns the cotton to dust.

You begin to unravel.

“I want to hollow out your chest.” You admit maddeningly, and you wonder how much your insanity bleeds out. “And burrow into it, so I can listen to your heartbeat and feel the expanse of your lungs pressing into me with your every breath,” you think your breath has grown more erratic, “I want to breathe in your blood, taste your heart, blood, sustain myself on nothing, on nothing but you!” You’ve leaned closer till your breaths fan over each others’ faces. Small patches of water begin to drop onto Aventurine’s face—his face that is so breathtakingly and satanically beautiful without the cotton obstructing it—your breath hitches and your mouth twitches, as you take in a quivering breath. “If you die…I might just join you, because…there’s really nothing else for me…” and then something ugly sparks in your chest. “If you die…I’m pulling the trigger, not some random sap in a casino.”

The puddle of blood begins flowing toward you.

It completely burns the cotton, and that is the moment You are no longer safe. But hell is beautiful, you find, and you so gladly drench yourself in its flames. You are still painfully aware of how wrong it all is…but, the storm within you is starting to calm, you don’t cry with your every free moment and you no longer agonize about your parents. You…you think this is peace. To harbor obsession for the man who trapped you in this hell and tortured you and then drowned you in affection and obsession.

You sob, a sound of euphoric despair, and you confess the terrible truth,

“I love you, Aventurine,” you take in a shuddering gasp, “I love you…” you cough, no longer able to hold back as you break down, “I love you, I love you,” you hiccup and sob, “I love you I love you I love you I love you!” You’ve collapsed, curling in on yourself but resting your head atop his heart. “Don’t throw me away…don’t l-leave me…I need you, and it’s your f-fault I’m like this…please, please Aventurine, tell me you love me and won’t ever let me go!” Oh, you feel so ugly and you feel so much lighter and, and—

His breath shudders, and then swiftly takes you in his arms. You flinch out of your daze, but his grip doesn’t cease, like he wants your bodies to meld into each other. His grip is tight, almost biting, but in your mind free of cotton, it feels secure and adoring. He sits up, shifting so you straddle him. Red dusts his cheeks, a similar shade to the crimson pooling beneath you two. His eyes hold a hunger satiated and a new voracity, gleaming with animalistic intent that makes you shiver.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he shudders, grounding himself to hold back, “that was beautiful—you’re beautiful,” he’s panting, “how could I refuse such a heartfelt and adorable confession?” Your heart soars. “You’re so perfect. You’re the other side of my coin…yes,” he groans, “I’d love to bring you down with me, and to tear you apart if I’m back in that dawnless land.”

As the dawn shines on you both as he kisses you, it clicks.

He wanted someone just as desperate as him.

The whisper against your lips is almost reverent, “I knew you were the one,” His eyes are like a meadow, where you dance and sing and never leave, even as your feet howl in pain brushing against poison ivy and oak hidden amidst the grass and flowers. Now you recognize the emotion that drowns in them: an all consuming affection which threatens to erase your existence to everything but him. “Thank you, for destroying yourself for me. It’s truly an honor, sweetheart.”

Your tears flow, but the corners of your mouth twitch upwards. Insanity has sunk its claws into you, your stress and limits explode in a desperate supernova, and your very being trembles with ecstasy. Aventurine joins you, standing up and spinning you around in his firm hold as you both laugh and laugh in the dawn’s sunlight, with red not trailing too far behind. This is a spectacle you burn and freeze and drown in, witnessed by your spectator in rot.

Then you're devoured, but you’ve grown your own claws and fangs.

Driven by nothing more than instinct, in the throes of your tryst, you bury your head in the crook of his neck,

And bite.

#yandere #Yandere aventurine #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #yandere aventurine x reader #aventurine x reader #yandere honkai star rail #Yandere x you #tw noncon #if you’re this far into the tags then hello welcome to hell #How are you? I’m chillin out it’s pretty nice #Dreading the day I must finally become a proper tool in capitalism (re: get an actual job so I do not starve to death and deprived of—#—basic human necessities. Like nestle water)#Ha didn’t expect capitalism depression in the tags of a yandere work didja well to that I say SIKE BITCH I’ve got you #But also every other post has espresso depresso abt capitalism so it’s kinda the norm at this point #Marx is rolling in his grave #Anyway go get a drink of water it’s very very important to be hydrated #Also you do not know how hard it is to not write good girl/boy in this FR—#Destroyed Onset

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moonsaver · 4 months

Text

You find silence to be quite fearsome, as of late.

There are many occasions Dr. Ratio comes back home in a bad mood, irritable to no end. Always passing snide remarks, commenting on the "gap" between yours and his intelligence, subtly jabbing and snipping away at your self-esteem until it's enough to pamper his own ego.

Half the times, you can only sulk away. You unfortunately had the experience of finding out it is extremely hard to argue with someone who manages to twist and make passages out of meager comments, driving you into a corner, and ultimately delivering the final blow to your ego.

The other half times, his words eventually end up getting to you, no matter how hard you try. Throat constricting painfully to hold in sobs, eyes watery with anger and vulnerability, voice shaking from the pain of his comments jabbing straight into your already bruised heart.

Sometimes, you wonder if he finds it enticing. He argues endlessly with you, droning on about how he's not entertaining this with an idiot like yourself, but still persisting and breaking down each and any arguments you have.

Until you finally break into sobs.

He huffs, almost groans, after silently watching you sob for a minute. He walks over to the bathroom, and prepares a bath. After a few minutes of tinkering sounds from the bathroom, a collusion of sloshing and the dripping on water on the tiled floor, he peeks out. He drapes his eager hand around your waist, guiding your face into whichever body part you decide to fit it in, and comforts you in a rough, coarse manner. Alright, fine, why don't you just join him for a bath? Let him take care of you just as always. You're pathetic, and he supposes he's even less than that, caring for someone as weak as you.. though he won't even deny you're quite possibly his only and favorite weakness.

Those meaningless thoughts only warp and distort and swirl endlessly in your mind, as both of you share silence in the bathtub, his arm always around your waist, snugly holding you well in place. It's almost obvious, the way his hand traces the curves of your body, occasionally tracing the outline of your collarbone, the coarseness of his hand poorly hidden by the hot water and faux gentleness, burying himself into his book, as if his skin doesn't practically crave to intertwine into yours.

And that's how things usually end. Quiet nights where he gives you commands, positions you however he pleases and massages whatever products and body oils he fancied for himself, hoping you don't notice just how needy he is, as he presses a chaste kiss to your jaw, and huffing. He goes to sleep shortly after.

Sometimes, however, it's worse.

Veritas comes home quiet.

He doesn't speak. He doesn't announce his presence with a huff or a groan or a complaint. He steps in quietly, dropping whatever things he carried near the doorstep, as he stares at you from the unlit hallway. His eyes are piercingly quiet, almost tearing through the tense silence as they drink in your silhouette, anxiously waiting for a word from him.

At night, you hear noises from the other room – one which you are completely denied access to, tightly locked to the point it doesn't budge a milimeter.

Clacking, constant clacking sounds, tinkering, tinkering, and a few coughs. A few rare moments of soundly running water, then followed by abrupt silence as the process continues. He returns to bed quietly after a few hours, even deciding to skip his shared bathtime with you, choosing to simmer alone with his own thoughts.

Of course, it still takes a while to clean the absolute ludicrous amounts of dust that emanates from the room, even if it's just a bit that leaks from the bottom slit.

He won't tell you – or rather he doesn't feel the need to. You are his muse; he had told you once already. It's your fault if you didn't pay attention. Fortunately for you.. it's not a lesson you need to remember. At least for now. His fingertips gently run along the clay face, outlining the details of your face he has felt with his own fingers, closing his eyes as he imagines it as you. A muse. A subject. A desire. Whatever it is, he plans to embed it into clay. This time.. he was working on a larger piece, the clay imitating the curve of your waist as he had felt it thousands of times before in the bathtub, the crook of your neck, the eyelashes of your pretty, pathetic, teary eyes..

Perhaps.. You'd remember what he said. Someday. For now, it's his past time, whenever he needs to blow off steam.

He returns to his usual demeanor in the morning.

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grimm-writings · 4 days

Note

OH SHIT I BETTER SEND THIS IN QUICK uhhh can i get some dr. ratio or screwllum cuddling/general fluff? im very tired and i think that could fix me

- i think you know who this is 💜

warmth

…ft! dr. ratio, screwllum x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, lotsa snuggling!!!!, non sexual nudity (ratio)

…wc! 323; 412; = 735

…notes! MY FRIEND I KNOW YOU!!!! ❣️ty for the request here it is!!! small and cute <3 also!! give it up for the new character banners!!! lmk if you liiiike <3

Veritas Ratio

“Care to join me?”

Veritas’s voice reaches your ears. You glance up at him, his figure relaxed in his bathtub through the bathroom door. His head is thrown back to look back at you.

“Sorry?” You clarify, folding a book closed over your thumb.

“You’re exhausted, evidently, seeing as how you haven’t moved on from that page in a number of minutes.”

Your face flushes in embarrassment. Nothing can get past your lover’s keen observations.

No use in arguing, you rationalise that Veritas has a point (like always). You slip off your clothes and join him in the bathtub. His hands land on your shoulders and rub down reassuringly. He’s welcoming you to relax – surprisingly tender, gentle.

As he rubs in some body wash, Veritas’s voice sinks you further into relaxation; “care to explain why you’ve been neglecting your rest?”

“It’s not like I’ve been wanting to,” you reply.

“That doesn’t answer my query, love.”

You sigh as you feel Veritas kiss the top of your head. You explain everything – your stresses as of late, and the overwhelming urge to just sleep forever. You’re so tired.

He hums in thought, violet hair falling in front of coral eyes. Oddly unmanaged in such an intimate place. “We can figure out some ways to rectify that later. For now, allow me to take care of you. Is that alright?”

A small giggle slips from your lips – Veritas is always asking permission. If you were anyone else, he wouldn’t be so soothing. It’s nice to know that you were special in that way. A warmth teasing to consume you whole as Veritas washes and rinses you down.

Yes, and it shall continue to grow as you are entangled in sheets later, his strong arms wrapped around your body. Rest. What was once unfamiliar becomes so easy with Veritas helping you.

You are inclined to believe that you had the best sleep of your life that night.

Screwllum

“Would I really be all that comfortable?”

“Oh shush, you’re plenty comfortable.”

Screwllum sighs (or at least makes a similar sound to one) at your refusal to accept that he might not be the greatest snuggle partner in the world. It’s no secret that he’s a gentleman in every sense of the word, but something like cuddling…

You can’t say he doesn’t try, resting your head on your chest and a hand in your hair. He pets you softly as another arm is lazily resting over your back. This way you wouldn’t really feel any metal underneath the layers of clothes.

“I hope you realise that I can feel how tense you are,” you hum from buried into the ruffles of Screwllum’s shirt.

“A-Apologies, I’m trying my best—”

“Are you nervous?”

As soon as you bring up the question, Screwllum’s already blank face seems to somehow blank more. Even if he is inexpressive, the message speaks volumes.

Fans whir louder in the silence.

You can’t help but burst into giggles. “I can’t believe it! All ready to fluster me with hand kisses and whatnot, but you fall apart as soon as we lay together!”

Screwllum stutters, trying to find some way to acquire his dignity back. “I just wish to please you… I’m not exactly the most popular choice for a romantic partner…”

“But you’re my choice,” you shoot back, leaning up to place a kiss on Screwllum’s face plate, the one where a mouth normally would be. The fans only prove a traitor to Screwllum as they whir louder.

The genius can only silently accept his fate as you smother him with kisses all over his metal encasing. “Dare I ask—” he’s cut off by one of your many mwahs! “Why do you torture me so…?”

You lean back, resting your chin on Screwllum’s chest again with a satisfied grin.

“When you get all shy, you get toastier.” You snuggle closer into a hug. “This is why you’re the best cuddler – you warm me up!”

Screwllum doesn’t react at first save for the heat dispelling from his body. Then dignified yet comfortable laughter slips through. You feel something land on the top of your head. You look up to see that your lover has placed his hat on your head and is ruffling your hair through it.

“Whatever will I do with you…?” He asks aloud.

“Snuggle me, maybe.” You cheekily grin.

Screwllum hums. “Well, suppose I’ll just have to comply.”

#✮ grimm's fics!#honkai star rail #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr imagines #hsr x reader #screwllum #screwllum x reader #screwllum imagines #dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio imagines #veritas ratio #veritas ratio imagines #veritas ratio x reader

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thatanimewriter · 2 months

Text

COULDA, WOULDA, SHOULDA, DIDN'T (ALTERNATE ENDING).

➳ synopsis: aventurine has never lost. that's what he tells people when he makes bets and in passing conversation about gambling. but every night when he lays in bed, he will always think about the day he almost lost you. angst version.

➳ character/s: aventurine

➳ warnings: 2.1 spoilers, aventurine backstory spoilers, aventurine real name spoilers, mentions of death, slavery (it's not romanticised, you're safe-), mentions of torture, blood, hurt/comfort, marriage, sleeping together (literally), reader described as beautiful

➳ word count: 0.7k

➳ notes: here's the happy version for those who were asking for it LMAO also i jumped on the bandwagon of fic writers inspired by aventurine official art-

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

aventurine will never forget the day he met you. he himself didn't know much better than you did as you ran for your lives as children, but he knew he never wanted to see you like that ever again. that night, he thinks he fell in love.

even with the heavy metal cuffs crushing your wrists, he thought you were beautiful. in the most horrible circumstances, you found solace in each other's arms. aventurine made it a habit to kiss your brand mark and then your forehead as he let you use his arm as a pillow. any screams of pain either of you made as you were roughly dragged from your cell to undergo 'disciplining' haunt your minds in the rare moments of emptiness.

the day aventurine was bought away by jade, he's never felt fear quite the same as looking back and seeing you be dragged away by your cuffs, calling out for him as he left while you were pulled further down the abyss of pain and agony.

"i'll come back for you, wait for me!" he yelled behind him. he was desperate, he didn't know if he would ever get to come back for you and ultimately, that scared him more. the idea that his last interaction with you was filled with despair only fueled his desire to rise to the top. he would free himself and ensure that when (if) he freed you, you would have everything you needed immediately.

aventurine remembers the day he came back for you. he'd beat up a lot of guards, and possibly killed a couple, only to find you unconscious and bleeding onto the cold concrete floor in your cell. scrambling to his knees, he held you in his arms and bolted out the door, desperately praying to whatever god would listen that you were alive.

he lived a nightmare as you recuperated in hospital, but nothing came close to making him cry since leaving you than holding your hand and kissing you all over again as if it was your first time. each night as he slept in the chair beside your hospital bed, he wondered what would've happened if he never got to you or was too late.

when he proposed to you, it felt like a fever dream. when he woke up the next morning to see you beside him, ring glinting in the morning sun and cheek pressed into a silk pillowcase rather than dusty concrete. he smiled in adoration, pulling you closer by the waist and chuckling at your sleepy whine of protest before burying your head into his chest and falling back asleep. taking your hand in his, he kissed the ring he'd given to you as a token of your engagement, resting his chin atop your head.

his phone rang and he sighed, blindly reaching behind him to check who was calling him. dr. ratio.

groggily, he answered. "you're calling early, don't you know i'm spending my paid leave with my wonderful fiance?"

aventurine could practically hear the eye roll from dr. ratio over the phone. "i am well aware, i just thought you would want to be informed that i have located your old master that was missing from the premises when you were searching for them," he said, probably polishing one of his marble busts to occupy himself.

"...keep an eye on him. i'll figure out what to do with him when i get more sleep." and with that, aventurine hung up the phone. he returned his attention to you and caressed his thumb over your hip as he pondered this newfound information.

he could've lost you if he didn't get there when he did. he's grateful for that, because he can have you by his side forever and a little bit more. he would've come looking for you to discover you'd died if he didn't push himself harder than recommended to rise to the top. he should've lost you, for that is what the sick gods on some alternate plane of reality deemed reasonable for his kind.

he didn't.

#honkai star rail #hsr #aventurine #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #honkai star rail imagines #hsr imagines #aventurine imagines #hsr aventurine imagines

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tenjikufag · 1 month

Note

Hello!! Hi I really love your stories. Uhm if I can ask, can you do a fluff of Dr ratio from honkai star rail x male reader. Once again I love your stories and creativity. <3<3<3

Let’s look at the stars.

Dr. Ratio x male reader

- Fluff, no warnings

-note, I apologize for ooc content (I’m not all too familiar with this character.)

“-immense pressures and temperatures in the star's core squeeze the nuclei of hydrogen atoms together to form helium, a process called nuclear fusion…”

Late nights spent listening to your partners current interest were quite common, you loved to hear him speak with such enthusiasm.. he was in his element and you couldn’t be more happy to be the person he chooses, time and time again, to share it with.

This time, his current studying led him to the stars. Many dumb them down to dead balls of gas, but to him they were so much more. Even if he wasn’t all that big on sentimental things, something about the stars only showing their bright beauty after dying- it moved him in a way.

The two of you laid under the stars, only giving him hums in response to assure him that you were listening. Not that you could ever get a word in, he kept explaining his findings and moving his hands outwards to point to the many constellations, the pathways, which stars had names and what they meant..

“Did you know stars don’t actually twinkle? The proper phrase for it would be scintillate, which only happens when they find themselves among the horizon..”

“Then where do you think the phrase came from?”

Glancing over at him, his lip curled into a smile at the question.. he didn’t have an answer for that, it was more of a metaphorical phrase and the ties to such a phrase would be as endless as a black hole. So, he only smiled and half-heartedly brushed off not knowing such an answer.

“Oh? The doctor doesn’t have an answer?”

The male chuckled, turning his head to look at you with a soft smile.

“Hm, although I know you ask in jest..”

You watched as he sat up, moving to hover his head just above yours.

“Let me conduct a.. study if you will..”

The love in his eyes reflected your own. Nodding, you let him instruct you.

Grabbing your hand, he held it firmly in his own and pressed it into his chest. He then instructed you to close your eyes and timed you to keep them shut for a few seconds.

“Now open..”

You felt his breathe on your lips, noses almost touching but he kept a strong gaze into your pupils.. he watched as they dilated and how they..

Twinkled.

Satisfied, he laughed to himself

“Just as I thought..”

He moved to straddle your waist, now holding both of your hands and again dipped down to closely watch your eyes and how the stars reflected in your irises.

“The term "twinkling stars" is derived from the Old English word "twincan," which means "to twinkle or blink.”

Sitting up, he found himself staring back up at the sky to observe the stars align and glancing down back to your eyes to see how the light refracted..

“This term was likely used to describe the flickering or shimmering appearance of stars in the night sky, which is caused by the Earth's atmosphere…”

Your body followed his, chests pressed against one another and arms now wrapped around his slim waist.

“Is that actually true? Or are you simply making things up again?”

He laughed, clasping your face in his hands in delight.

“It’s true dear, don’t think I didn’t account for such a question from you. I’m honestly.. quite flattered you’d think I could lie to you about such an intimate thing..”

Intimate?

“I see those gears turning, Y/n. Stars are seen as signs of affection by many people, looking up to see the same stars their loved ones are seeing or maybe even looking for their lover among them..”

His smile faltered, the gaze he held no longer as strong. You felt his lips plant themselves on you. Smiling into the kiss, he pushed you back to lay on the plush grass beneath you- hands moving to hold your neck and caress his fingers along your jaw. When he pulled away, an uncharacteristic bashful blush covered his cheeks..

“Even though my study was fruitful, and I quite enjoyed it..”

Lips met yours again, but for a small loving peck

“I must say.. I enjoy studying these ‘twinkling’ stars in your eyes much more..”

He left one more chaste kiss on your lips before sliding off of you, returning to his spot beside you.

The man would learn everything through you if he could, but to use his studying to show his adoration to you was something he’d never thought would be possible- it never crossed his mind before you came into his life.

He’d study a million stars if he got to see them in your eyes.

I really hope this was okay, and not too ooc- thank you for the request!

#hsr x male reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x male reader #hsr x reader #hsr oneshots #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x male reader #fluff

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j-niret · 10 months

Text

dollface. | hhj

✩‧₊˚ pairing — hyunjin x f!reader genre — established relationship, newfound romance, sappy love <33 warnings — tooth rotting fluff, smut, love making, oral (f. receiving), piv, breeding kink, praise kink, cute hand holding during s*x >.<

a/n: ahhhh, i’m finally back w another post !! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ i feel saur bad for not posting in a while but i’ve been super busy w school and other stuff ughhh. but i had lots of fun writing this and it was supposed to be WAY shorter than this but uh… got carried away ig? lmaooo. n e ways, enjoyy and lmk your thoughts on this, muahhhh

wc — 2.2k

꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷

there’s nothing quite like being passionately in love. being with that special someone who you call your one and only, your other half. the one you rush home to every night after a long day at work, venting as they listen with open ears. the one who knows you better than themselves and remembers every tiny detail you tell them. the person you want to spend the rest of eternity and take your very last breath with.

you couldn’t picture this experience with anyone else but hyunjin. everyday felt like a new chapter of a fairytale when you’re with him, his love was profound, gracious, and so thoughtful— he spoiled you immensely with affection. hyunjin is a patient and understanding lover, he’ll always do things on your terms and never pressures you into something you aren’t comfortable with. his kind and caring nature is what drew you to him in the beginning, he had a timid personality at first but it didn’t take long for him to open up and reveal his true inner self around you. in his eyes, everything felt so easy with you, as if he already knew you in a past life; it almost scared him how quickly his feelings grew. hyunjin couldn’t help it though, within only three weeks of knowing you he asked you to be his girlfriend and the rest was history. a full month has passed and though you’re both still technically in the “honeymoon phase” you don’t think this feeling will ever truly dissipate.

what you love most about hyunjin is his attentiveness, he wasn’t lying when he said he knew you in a past life; his ability to read you like a novel came as second nature to him. he could almost tell instantly when you were upset or feeling down, and he knew exactly how to cheer you up, he’s partially the reason why your confidence has gotten so much better lately. hyunjin makes you feel more than wanted, he provides you with constant reassurance and cares more about you than his own self. “you’re the reason i keep going, my reason to strive to become a better person. i don’t know where i’d be without you baby.” he admitted in the first month of dating, most people would be scared off by how intensely he feels when he’s in love, but you? you embraced it dearly, you embraced all of him. the bond you two shared was like no other, he was meant to be yours and you were meant to be his— souls connected by fate. before you met hyunjin, the concept of soulmates seemed unbelievably cliche, but now, you can’t comprehend how you once lived a life without knowing him.

hyunjin would move mountains for you, he’d do absolutely any and everything to make you happy. you like to believe the relationship is an equal 50/50 ratio but hyunjin is beyond whipped for you, the first thought in his mind when waking up every morning is how beautiful you look when you’re peacefully asleep, making sure he doesn’t cause too much movement to wake you up. as soon as you do though, he’s instantly all over you, showering you with his sweet honey-glazed words and kisses softer than velvet. beautiful, captivating, endearing; those are what you’d use to describe the way hyunjin shows his love. he loves unapologetically and has no shame in it, he doesn’t care if he gets called a “simp” for wanting to please his girl— people only see your relationship from an outside lens, they’ll never understand and it didn’t matter to either of you. hyunjin is a lovesick puppy for you, always craving your touch when you aren’t around, but as soon as he’s with you he’s all yours.

“baby, you know you can use me whenever you’re stressed, you look a bit worn out and could use some much needed relaxation. tell me what you want, just say the words, i’m here to please you dollface.” god… he knew exactly how to make you melt after a tiring day of work, and that nickname; dollface, the way it rolled off his tongue so elegantly made you a dripping mess. “y-you don’t need to, you already do so much for me hyunnie… i appreciate how much you wanna take care of me.” you sheepishly respond, hyunjin wasn’t too keen on your answer though. “i know i don’t necessarily need to, but i really want to. let me be of use to you princess, please, just wanna take care of you, anything you want and i’ll do it. there’s no one in this world i’d do this for besides you, i wholeheartedly believe i was put on this earth to be with you.” his words pulled you in like a magnetic force, easily getting you to cave to his desires, who were you to deny your angelic entity of a boyfriend? you let his hands freely roam your body, noticing the faint black nail lacquer coated on his fingertips as he palms your breasts outside the skimpy tank top you wore underneath your work shirt. hyunjin’s plush pink lips connect with yours for a moment, relishing in the sweet taste of you as he pinches your lightly covered nipple. “m’gonna make you feel so amazing… you’ll feel like you’re floating after this, trust me dollface.”

the petname he gave you never left his vocabulary since the day he first said it. he’d say it in the most sensual tone, you never realized you might have a voice kink until you met hyunjin. one moment you were kissing him slowly then the next he was below you, in between your precious thighs. his tongue felt like heaven, gliding the wet muscle against your sensitive bundle of nerves, letting you gush all over his face and chin. hyunjin couldn’t help himself, he loved feeling your legs shake around him, hearing the subtle whimpers and cries escape your lips— this is what keeps him going. “hmmmnn..” he’d hum against your aching core, sending a vibration of tingles to your spine. your hips involuntarily buck into him, grinding against his mouth as he sucks on your puffy clit, making you moan out his name in utter utopia. “hyunjin… hyunjin… mmphh fuck..” eyes rolling to the back of your head from the way he’s french kissing your cunt. hyunjin loves taking his sweet time with you, he’s never been the type to rush anything, he prefers making love over just pure “fucking”, he sees no point in sex if it’s not meaningful to him. you can feel the passion through him as he went down on you, eating your pussy like it’s his last meal on earth. your toes curled from the intense pleasure, tears almost forming in the corner of your eyes from feeling slightly overwhelmed— you’ll survive though, you always do.

“mmm… shit! t-think m’gonna cum ssooon hyune.” you mewl, body heat rising faster as you feel yourself getting close, your hands land on top of hyunjin’s head, lacing your fingers through to grab a fistful of his soft chocolate brown hair. “yeah? gonna come on my tongue like a good girl for me?” he pants heavily before diving back in, this time picking up a faster pace, your body felt like it was burning from the inside. “ahhh, fuck yes, hyunjin!” arching your back from the sensation, vision going blank for a moment as you come undone for the first time tonight. it’s no surprise hyunjin can make you orgasm so easily for him, he already knows your body so well— better than any man has ever attempted trying in the past, no one compares to him. hyunjin lifts his head up from between your legs, looking up at you with those endearing puppy dog eyes, face glistening with your wetness as he crawls over to give you a heartwarming kiss. you wanted nothing more than to be filled up completely by him, the crave for his cock gets more intense when you feel the massive boner he’s sporting underneath the tight boxer briefs he’s wearing. “hyunjin..” you whimper pathetically for him, “yes baby?” “i need you inside… p-please..” you were being more than needy right now but he wasn’t going to make you beg for it, he never did, he was just as willing to give you his cock just as much as you wanted it. “only since you asked so nicely, i’ll give whatever you want when you talk to me like that. i’ll fill this cute little hole up and stuff you with all my cum dollface.” his cock twitched at the thought of breeding you, he wants you to have every last drop of him inside.

“sss.. ah shiiit, so fuckin’ tight.” hyunjin grunts from the way his cock is getting swallowed by your heat, never keeping his eyes off watching while sliding it in. your legs wrap around his waist securely, mouth going permanently agape as he buries himself deep within. as soon as he picked up a steady rhythm his lips go to your neck, kissing and nipping at it delicately, fucking you so nice and slow. his hips moved gracefully, languidly pumping in and out while leaving small hickeys to your neck and chest. your warmth made his brain short circuit multiple times— one more stroke and he might just lose all consciousness. hyunjin couldn’t stop himself from admiring the way you looked right now, even during this he finds your beauty absolutely astonishing. he wants to hold you so bad, more than anything, but he can’t do that now, so what’s the next best option? holding your hand of course. hyunjin’s hand creeps up beside yours, gently taking it into his grasp, intertwining your fingers. he thrusts into you a bit a harder this time, but not too hard to the point where you’d want to scream, just softly moaning out his name like a sweet lullaby. “i love you y/n.” hyunjin murmurs out, not fully realizing what he just said. this was the first time he’s ever said this, he’s always thought it for quite some time but he dared not to say until the time was right… well, until now.

you were a little taken aback from his confession, since you two have only been dating for a month but you can’t deny that you love him too. you’ve never felt so strongly about someone in such a short span of time, let alone finding your soulmate you want to the spend of your life with. a loud sigh releases from you as he angles his hips differently, providing you with much deeper strokes. “i-i love- fuck.. i love y-you too hyune.” you croak, barely able to speak from how good he’s making you feel, you squeeze his hand tighter, eyelids momentarily fluttering shut from so much pleasure. hyunjin was ecstatic to hear you loved him back, he knew since the day he met you that he’d end up falling for you, how could he not honestly? he was so happy he could cry, his emotions were all over the place but right now, he wanted to give you what he’s promised since this started. “ughh… ‘m really close babe..” he mumbles out, slowing down slightly as his strokes get sloppier, reaching out his free hand to rub gentle circles on your clit. you don’t say anything in response, instead you draw out more semi-loud moans, biting your lip as you feel your climax approaching too. everything around you felt fuzzy, you continued whimpering out, gripping his hand tightly, clenching around his cock as your soul cries out in triumph. hyunjin let’s out a deep guttural groan, releasing his milky white essence inside, both bodies trembling from the aftermath.

“so fucking beautiful,” he lowly husks, “already came twice for me good job babygirl.” his praises made you feel so loved and appreciated, literally the sweetest boyfriend you could ever ask for. “do you really love me?” you hesitantly ask, anyone can say anything during sex but your actions afterwards is what truly matters. hyunjin’s eyebrow furrows confusedly, “yes, of course i meant it, i’ve never told anyone i loved them before. that word holds… a lot of meaning to me.” he’s never felt anything close to this before, he knows this is real love. “god, you’re so damn perfect.” the compliments wouldn’t stop, he could go on the biggest tirades about how much you mean to him. your nose scrunches at his sweetness, giggling a bit, “you’re so cute.” your lips curl into a dainty smile, mind still feeling hazy from your post orgasm. hyunjin leans into you closely, staring at your pretty lips before planting a chaste kiss to them. nothing can compare to this, being young and in love. there’s nothing better than creating memories with the man you want to be with for the rest of your life, start a family and grow old with. only one person you could ever see a future with and that was hyunjin. he’s more than sure about you too, he’s even more excited for what’s to come, ready to embark on this long journey of love. he attempts to get impossibly closer than he already is, wrapping his arms around your frame and kissing your forehead, “you’re way cuter, dollface.”

꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷

#hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x female reader #hyunjin x f reader #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin smut #hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin imagines #skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fic #skz imagines #hyunjin fic

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pupkashi · 11 months

Note

hey jess my sunshine, may i request this prompt w kento, please 🥺 “do you think we’d still be a couple in an alternate universe?” “go to bed.” “what if we already got married and have five kids.” “go to bed.” also i'm tucking you in and kissing ur forehead!💛

hi julie my beloved forest fairy !! <3 i hope you enjoy this sweet little piece :3

join the sleepover!

“coffee doesn’t even affect me anymore ken, plus I’m dying to eat this sweet bread i bought at the bakery” you had pouted at your lover, watching as his disapproving face turned softer from your words.

“fine, but don’t make it as strong as you usually do!” he had warned, you were too giddy to care, making as you usually did and running back to the living room, placing it on the coffee table and flicking on the tv.

it’s two hours later, and kento can’t keep his eyes open for another second. meanwhile you’re wide eyed and gasping at the drama unfolding on the screen in front of you.

“can you believe she’s blaming him! he’s been nothing but perfect and- babe?” you cut yourself off, looking at the man who is now fast asleep next to you. there’s a small smile on your face, pausing the tv before gently shaking him. “ken? wake up let’s go to bed, your neck is gonna hurt like this” you whisper, watching as he slowly comes to, blushing a bit as he nods.

the two of you get ready for bed fairly quickly, slipping under the warm blanket and immediately gravitating into each others arms. nanami is quick to close his eyes, already being welcomed back into the sweet abyss of his dreams-

“do you think we’d still be a couple in an alternate universe?” you whisper, breath tickling his neck and causing the welcoming arms of sleep to move further and further away.

“maybe, go to sleep” he mumbles, adjusting himself a bit so that he isn’t mumbling against the top of your hair.

“maybe? you don’t think we’re destined to date in every life?” you question, teasing him a bit and propping yourself up on your elbow.

nanami knows what you’re doing, and he’s blaming the late night caffeine for it. “we absolutely are fated in our every live, my love” he says, eyes opening a bit, “now go to sleep,” his voice is a bit raspy as he nuzzled his face into the pillow below him.

“what if in one of those lives we’re already married and have five kids” you ask not even a minute later, staring at your blonde boyfriend, curious it’s in your eyes and a small smile on your face. “do you think we have a small wedding? what’s the girl to boy ratio?”

“my love-” he begins, opening his eyes and sitting up a bit more to face you better.

“i bet you spoil any girl we have rotten, and you probably bake pastries for them on Sunday mornings” you giggle, already getting carried away as you think of the version of you two in some other universe.

“darling go to sleep” he groans, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you into his chest, squeezing you tightly and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “never letting you drink coffee after 10 ever again” he mumbles, already closing his eyes.

“g’night lover” you whisper, finally closing your eyes and your thoughts stilling for a moment. the only sound in your bedroom is nanami’s even breathing.

“would you still love me if i was a worm?” you whisper, a smile breaking onto your face when you hear kento groan at your question.

#pupkashi's sleepover event #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader fluff #nanami fluff #nanami kento fanfic #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento imagine #nanami kento drabble #kento nanami fluff #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami drabble #kento nanami imagine #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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azullumi · 15 days

Text

JESUS, TAKE THE WHEEL ?!

premise — to put it simply, hsr men driving. characters — boothill, sunday, aventurine, veritas ratio, jing yuan, and blade content tags — small mentions of reader, probably fluff, not proofread, i don't know how to tag this please | wc: 0.6k ; headcanons

note from me — this idea was brought to me after nearly crashing and getting multiple heart attacks while my dad was driving

BOOTHILL, races with the wind that it feels like you left your soul somewhere in the road—literally a wild spirit who seems to enjoy the feeling of the breeze on his skin. He probably got you lost one time too, or maybe twice, or thrice. He just loves fast cars and faster chases, likes the thrill of it (much to your dismay if you’re a cautious person). He’s probably cussed someone out for cutting him off his lane which led to him nearly crashing when he pressed the brakes suddenly. Despite his reckless driving habits, his quick thinking and reflexes keeps him out of harm.

SUNDAY, perfect law-abiding citizen—follows the traffic rules, doesn’t go past the speed limit, never crashes, never gets pulled over, you’re in the safest hands and you can trust the entirety of your life on him. You have a good road trip, a great driver, and someone who you can easily talk to. It’s perfect. He probably has a playlist ready with the most of it being his sister’s songs, playing and listening to it as he drives, often humming along with the melody.

AVENTURINE, drives like there’s no tomorrow when he’s alone but drives like the most responsible and careful driver whenever there’s someone with him in the car. He likes driving during the night despite the risk of it (and that’s honestly the point); he does love the quiet streets and the solitude he gets, taking long drives to often clear his mind or just drive somewhere where he wants to be, often taking the scenic route. There are times that he drives in complete silence, deep in thought, and taking random turns.

VERITAS RATIO, just your normal and average sane driver. Literally it’s all just normal with him that it feels so wrong. He’s quite the careful driver but is easily annoyed when someone cuts off his lane and you’ll have to deal with a rambling doctor that calls people who have no driving etiquettes foolish and reckless. He strictly follows the rules of the road, but doesn’t hesitate in voicing out his frustrations at those who don’t. Other than that, everything is fine. He rarely listens to music, however, opting to listen to educational podcasts or the radio instead—he says it helps in keeping him focused.

JING YUAN, bold of you to even assume he’s driving; he doesn’t drive, or he rarely does. He’s a passenger princess, a shotgun queen, the backseat sleeper,—preferring to sleep on his seat than focus his eyes on the road. If he ever drives, however, it’s slow and careful. He’ll reason that there’s nothing to rush for and that you all have the time in the world, and you don’t know if you’re supposed to accept his reasoning, especially when you’re going to be late. The chance of him falling asleep while driving is higher than the chance of arriving at your destination early (a 10-minute drive easily becomes a 30-minute one and no, it’s not because of the traffic).

BLADE, believe it or not but he’s, if not the most, but one of the trusted drivers. While he does go past the speed limit sometimes and maybe he does have to swerve the car that you’ll fly off your seat (if not without your seatbelt) ever so often, you never die while he’s the one on the driver seat—thankfully. Surprisingly, he does wear his seatbelt and even urges you to wear yours (even if he didn’t, you’ll have to because you have nothing else to hold on to). The most silent car ride to ever exist though as he’ll only speak when you’ll ask him something, otherwise you’re left on your own with a conversation in the wind. Nevertheless, you’ll arrive at your destination in one piece. Not until the mara strikes.

FELIIII, a lovely mention to the beautiful and lovely @dr-felitas !! i'm getting back to writing now since i'm back from vacation (which means i can do anything and everything i want, but not including ghosting 🔥) ANYWAYS i would like to say thank you for always being patient with me and my replies ,, like my bad g 🙏 i really appreciate your presence in my life and your constant understanding, and i know i already told you this but you're a very warm and comforting person and i only hope for the best things to come in your life (i know love and beauty exists because you exist and you're full of it). i will support you in each and every one of your decisions, despite how bad or stupid it can be. don't let anything hold you back boo, never listen to your haters or your opps 🗣, you're still young and you have all the time in the world to experience meaningful moments (even heartbreaking ones). so go talk to that girl bae <33 no matter what happens, i'll always be here for you. ily lots mwaaaa

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another-lost-mc · 11 months

Note

Thinking about how funny it would be if Solomon also ate his own terrible cooking and is lactating with you. He'd probably just make the most of it as a new potion ingredient, or worse something to add to your next shared dinner that night

➤ milky mayhem | solomon x gn!reader

content: solomon and reader both have larger, lactating breasts because he's a menace of magical mishaps. I'm adding a Dub-con warning here because solomon tampers with reader's food without their knowledge but everything that follows is consensual. additional warnings: lactation kink, breast/nipple play, fingering, dirty talk, pet names, bottom!solomon. reader has a cock or strap-on (referred to as a cock). 3.2k words.

more in the lactation kink series: mammon | levi, asmo, beel, belphie | lucifer, satan, diavolo & barbatos, simeon, karasu

Solomon doesn’t think twice about trying some of his potions on you. They're not harmful. They're usually benign things, or things that he thinks might add a little twist to some of your more intimate activities together. Sometimes his experiments fail and have no effect, or the effect is so negligible you barely notice a difference.

Barbatos and the others are careful to keep an eye on him so he doesn't smuggle in food he's cooked when he’s invited to dinner parties, and last night was no exception. However, no one noticed when he pulled a vial from his pocket and added a few drops to your plate; everyone was too distracted by Beel rampaging in the kitchen, you included. The vial wasn’t quite empty, so he shrugged and added the rest to his own dinner.

What was the worst that could happen?

He kept an eye on you throughout dinner and the dessert that followed, and he deflated with disappointment when he thought it was yet another failed experiment—you didn’t look any different and you acted normally. He didn't notice any changes in his appearance either, and during the walk back to Purgatory Hall, he thought about the formula he used and whether it was worth tweaking the ingredient ratios to try again later.

Solomon wakes up the next morning and the first thing he notices is that his chest feels odd, almost like there’s a weight sitting on top of him. The next thing he notices is how wet he feels, and his sleep shirt sticks uncomfortably to his skin. He peels his eyes open and sniffs curiously at the odd smell in the air, but he grins when he looks down and sees the noticeable growth in his breasts.

He stands up and tugs off his shirt so he can inspect himself in the mirror. He feels almost giddy when he pokes the soft, bouncy flesh and it jiggles lightly under his touch. He squeezes them gently and grunts quietly at the strange sensation of milky fluid leaking from his nipples.

The front door of Purgatory Hall slams down the hall from his room and it interrupts his train of thought. He’s annoyed for a moment, but a sharp smile curls his lips when he faintly hears your voice greeting the others before the sound of padded feet approaches his room. You pound your fist urgently on his bedroom door.

“Solomon, are you in there? I know you had something to do with this! I swear, I’m going to—” You let out an undignified squeak when he opens the door in the middle of your little tirade and pulls you inside his room. He catches you when you stumble, and your eyes widen when you realize his chest doesn’t look quite right either.

“See something you like, darling?” he asks with a teasing lilt in his voice.

You step back and cross your arms in an attempt to hide your chest again, but it’s too late. He can tell that yours is bigger too—it strains against the buttons barely holding your RAD shirt closed. Your nipples must be leaking again because dark, wet spots are starting to spread across the light fabric.

You narrow your eyes at him when he unconsciously licks his lips at the thought of sucking one of your tits into his mouth. “Sol, what did you do?”

He shrugs and offers you a half-truth—that he snuck in something special for dinner last night, and he wanted to share it with you so he added it to your plate. You don’t need to know the other boring details, but you don’t look impressed with his explanation. He expected you to be surprised, or possibly annoyed, but he didn’t think you’d look this upset.

“It’s only temporary,” he offers helpfully—he’s already figured out that the effects should wear off by the end of the day. He reaches out to you but you skitter away from his grasp.

“How can you be so—so—relaxed about all this?” You drop your arms and wince when one of the buttons of your shirt pops off and lands on the floor. You peel the flimsy fabric away from your chest and groan in frustration. “This is so embarrassing.”

You don’t resist him a second time when he reaches for your hands again, and he steps back until he can sit on the edge of his bed. He spreads his legs and pulls you forward so you’re standing between them.

“I understand. It is a little strange,” he admits, and he means it. He never wants to hurt you with these little experiments—they’re mostly to sate his own curiosity, but he does them because he thinks they can be fun for both of you too. “Why don’t we try to make the most of it?”

You blink at him in surprise, but you don’t pull away when he reaches for your jacket and pushes it off your shoulders. He starts unbuttoning your shirt next—the ones that haven’t popped off already. You shake your head. “I'm not sure how that’s possible.”

He doesn’t respond right away; he finishes unbuttoning your shirt instead. It falls open and drapes loosely over the slope of your breasts. He leans forward and sighs at the warm, milky scent oozing from your skin. He glances at you innocently from beneath his lashes. “Have you tried touching them yet?”

You fidget nervously in response to his question and you look away from him, suddenly very determined to look anywhere else. “I had to clean them when I woke up so I could walk here to give you a piece of my mind. Do you know how hard it was to find a shirt that still fit?” You glance down at the ruined shirt hanging off you and the loose buttons near your feet. “Or mostly fit, anyway,” you add with a pouty grumble.

Solomon’s hands slide up your belly and gently cup each of your breasts. The warm weight in his hands is so satisfying, and he feels lucky to be able to touch you like this. When he glances at your face, he notices that some of the anxious trepidation has faded from your gaze—you look curious now, almost eager to see what he’s going to do next.

“Let me show you how nice this can be, if you'll give me a chance.” He squeezes them with the tiniest bit of pressure, and he smiles when you gasp at the tingling sensation that shoots through your body.

It’s certainly not the first time he’s fondled your chest, but you don’t expect how different it feels now that it’s bigger than usual—and you’re so sensitive. Your nipples are hard and dripping, and your eyes widen when Solomon leans forward with his tongue poking out between his lips. “Wait, you’re not going to…?”

“Of course I am.” He flicks his tongue against your shirt once, and then again as he moans at the surprisingly sweet taste. “You taste better than I imagined,” he murmurs before closing his lips around your nipple and sucking it gently through the fabric of your shirt.

The wet cotton scratches lightly against your skin, and the increased suction of his lips causes you to gasp his name in surprise. Your hands shoot into his hair when your knees buckle, and he wraps an arm around your waist to keep you steady. His other hand slides back down your body, and his nimble fingers fumble hastily at the waistband of your pants.

It’s embarrassing how turned on you are, and maybe you were too distracted to notice before—or you tried to ignore it, feeling oddly aroused by this whole situation but too ashamed to admit it.

Solomon hums around your nipple when he finally slips his fingers into your underwear. His relentless fingers stroke teasingly against your arousal, dipping into the wetness that betrays your own desire for him. He coats his fingers with your slick to ease the glide as he continues stroking you the way you like best.

The soft fat of your thighs jiggle as your body quakes from his ministrations, but it only encourages him more. He focuses on caressing your most sensitive spots—he’s memorized them all, of course. And like all the times before, you're quickly turning to putty in his greedy hands.

The lust radiating off you is contagious, and he pants noisily between desperate tugs of your nipple between his lips. He drags his mouth over the curve of your breast and licks at the valley between them, the bare expanse of skin that’s soft and warm and sticky-sweet. His nose pushes your flimsy shirt away so he can latch onto your other tit, leaking and full and all for him. He moans as a fresh wave of pearly milk pulses across his tongue and down his throat.

You scratch your fingers along his scalp and tug his hair, pushing his face closer to your chest with a needy whine. Your hips move with his hand as you chase your release, and there's nothing more lovely than the desperate sounds you make when you fall apart around his fingers. You cry out his name when you come, and your legs tremble so much that he pulls away from your chest so you can cling to him in case your trembling legs give out. He strokes your back soothingly and you melt against him, resting boneless and content in his arms.

He lays down on the bed and pulls you down with him, and when he finally kisses you, you can taste the subtle, milky sweetness lingering on his lips. Your tongue traces the seam of his mouth and curls with his. You can’t help the little groans bubbling in your chest at the unique combination of his taste and your own. He huffs in amusement against your lips when he realizes you like the taste as much as he does; he moans when you bite his bottom lip in retaliation.

His cock is hard against your tummy and his hips have been rubbing against you in jerky little movements, almost like he’s trying to resist the urge to rut against you like a mindless beast. You sneak your hand into his pants and dance your fingers along his length. He’s just as responsive when you touch him—precum pools at the tip of his cock when you tease along the slit, and he twitches in your hand when you wrap your fingers around him and pump him with a few lazy strokes.

You run your nose along his jaw and pepper kisses along his neck; he tilts his head back with a groan when you suck at one of the sensitive spots near the hollow of his throat. He shudders when you hum against the little purple bruise blooming where your lips and teeth nibbled at his skin.

When you pull back, he looks completely undone with his messy hair and shiny, kiss-swollen lips. You clench your thighs together when a fresh wave of arousal starts to coil deliciously in the pool of your belly. “Do you want to fuck me?”

His cock twitches in your hand, but he surprises you when he shakes his head. “No, not yet.” He swallows thickly and reaches for the shirt that hangs loosely around your shoulders. “I have a better idea.”

His better idea involves a desperate scramble to undress each other properly, shaky hands tugging and tearing at each other's clothes that prevent the hot skin-on-skin contact you both crave. Once you’re both naked, he pushes you flat onto your back in the middle of the bed. He lifts his leg over you and straddles your hips; he stares at your chest with lust-darkened eyes.

He murmurs something unintelligible under his breath, and his fingers glow blue for a brief moment. He wiggles them in a mockery of a wave when you tilt your head curiously, and they glisten in the dim lighting of his bedroom. He presses a hand to your chest so he can squeeze one of your swollen breasts and pinch your nipple between his finger and thumb. His other hand moves between his legs so he can stretch himself open for you.

You can just barely hear the faint, wet sounds of his fingers moving between his legs, and it's not long after when he huffs impatiently and runs his slick fingers up and down your cock. He pauses when you touch his wrist. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Normally he likes to be the one fucking you, pressing his face into the crook of your neck while his teasing voice whispers filth and praise into your ear.

He shakes his head and there’s something desperate, almost feral in his gaze—and you’re powerless to refuse him anything now. “I want to ride you like this,” he breathes as he lowers himself onto you. He wiggles his hips slightly as he adjusts to the overwhelming fullness, and like the rare times you've done this before, he can't help but admire how you fill him so perfectly.

He feels more exposed like this too, but your wide eyes roam over his body like you’ve never seen anything so amazing and he doesn't regret it. He spreads his legs and sinks down just a bit more. Your hands dig into his hips like you’re afraid he might suddenly change his mind.

Heh—not a fucking chance.

The depraved desire he feels as a result of his little experiment is amplified tenfold when he starts grinding against you, slowly at first but a bit faster, when his body starts to sing with pleasure of having you inside him. His chest heaves and bounces with each languid roll of his hips, and your tits jiggle slightly as you thrust up and match his lazy rhythm.

You can’t resist the alluring sight of his larger breasts bouncing gently as he moves; he grins slyly when he realizes what's captivated you so much. “See, darling?” He moans quietly when you brush against that soft, spongy spot inside him. “They’re not so bad, hmm?”

You don’t respond, but you don’t have to—your hands are firm on his hips and your eyes are blown black with your own lust for him.

He makes a cheeky little show of tilting his head back and putting himself on display for you: the darkening bruise your teeth made on his neck earlier; his hands cupping his tits and pinching the nipples even as more milky fluid drips down his chest; and his cock, hard and heavy and twitching, bobs lightly against your belly.

“You’re a fucking menace,” you grit out as the coil of arousal burning inside you flares; he sounds sinful and his body is so mesmerizing that you can’t stop staring, and he knows it.

He looks down at you again, but there’s something surprisingly soft in his expression that makes your heart stutter. “But you still love me, don’t you?” His soft-spoken words are surprisingly vulnerable, and your throat tightens with too much emotion and you nod, unable to speak. He understands what you want to say but can't—he’ll always understand what you feel for him, because he feels the same way about you.

He leans forward and rests both his hands on your chest, splaying his fingers wide to steady himself as he moves a tiny bit faster, bouncing on your cock with purpose. You arch your back against his hands as he squeezes your breasts, and now he’s the one that can’t stop staring. “You’re so pretty like this,” he pants loudly as he rides you faster than before. “I can’t get enough of your gorgeous tits bouncing in my hands, you look so—fucking hell,” he curses, trailing off into a moan as pleasure builds and threatens to overwhelm him.

You know he’s close when his eyes flutter shut and his rhythm grows sloppy. One of your hands trails away from his hip to wrap around his cock instead. He fucks into your fist as his body sways lightly as he chases his pleasure; the whimper that tumbles from his lips sounds suspiciously like your name.

“Look at you, fucking yourself on my cock like a needy little brat,” you coo breathlessly as you tighten your fingers around him. “Come on, make a mess for me.”

The groan that reverberates deep in his chest rattles you to the bone, and his hips spasm as the first ropes of his warm, sticky cum shoot out across your fingers and up your tummy. “You say—oh, fuck, yes, right there—” he cuts off with another broken groan as your pump his cock through his orgasm; he whines at the back of his throat when you finally milk him dry. “You say the sweetest things, darling," he exhales heavily when he finally stops moving, and he chuckles as he tries to catch his breath.

Tendrils of sweaty snow-white hair stick to his forehead, and his eyes look wet and glossy. He winces slightly when he lifts himself off you and falls onto the bed next to you, nuzzling affectionately into your shoulder. “That was lovely,” he sighs tiredly. "We should do this more often," he suggests, tangling his legs with yours.

You turn onto your side and put an arm around his waist. “Only if you promise that the next time you want to try one of your inventions on me, you warn me first, okay?”

He freezes for the briefest moment and laughs softly before brushing your brow with his lips. “Fair enough. I'm sorry it caught you off-guard." He cuddles closer and you both enjoy a few minutes of calm as the afterglow begins to fade.

You glance at him from the corner of your eye when you feel one of his hands start to inch its way down your body. "You know, the effects should only last a few more hours. How about we make the most of it?” he offers when his cock starts to stir against your thigh.

You’re not exactly sure what making the most of it means, but his eyes sparkle with mischief and you reach for his hand to stop him. “Can we shower first?”

He looks visibly disappointed—it's not that you don't want to do more, but you've been trying not to squirm too much from the cool, tacky sweat drying on your skin. The discharge from your breasts mixed with his cum on your belly, and its left you feeling a bit sticky.

He reconsiders your suggestions and something wolfish sharpens his smile when he starts imagining the new possibilities to take advantage of in the shower together: fondling your chest as he massages you with soapy hands, tasting your warm skin beneath his lips after he rinses you off. If he's lucky, maybe you'll let him go down on you in front of the bathroom mirror, and after he's finished he'll spin you around so you can watch your tits bounce in his hands as he fucks you from behind—

“On second thought, I think that’s a splendid idea, darling,” he murmurs, glancing at your chest briefly before he licks his lips with hungry anticipation.

read more: solomon masterlist | obey me masterlist

#obey me #omswd #obey me solomon #solomon x reader #solomon smut #obey me smut #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #omswd smut #obey me solomon x reader #obey me fanfic #x reader #gn!reader #tw lactation

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generalsdiary · 5 months

Text

a stupid bet (part 2)

gn!reader x Dr. Ratio

part one here

warnings: kissing, suggestive themes, occasional curse words (?)

word count: 6k~

a/n: didn’t expect so many of you to like it, so here’s part two, I knew which way I wanted to take this – and no it isn’t smut like some might assume. two adults with a complicated situation such as this would behave a tad differently, this ain’t a movie after all. but it was fun writing, a bitch to edit it, I hope you guys like this one as well, I am quite pleased with how it turned out. not beta read (we get snapped like Tingyun), if he is ooc this has been written before he became playable ((doubt there will be another part btw))

description: the aftermath of the bet, how the new dynamic functions, stubborn and arrogant attitudes with the fear to show emotions underneath it, all the while yearning for each other (fluff) yes they are communicating, this ain’t miscommunication trope, DW

It is the same day. Late at night with the workplace practically empty, you are finishing up some work. Being in a high position of power means also late hours, you stand up to stretch from sitting for hours.

It is quiet, everything seems still and desolate, with only the occasional sounds of machines, the soft buzzing of the lights, and the occasional Ruan Mei’s creation passing through.

You’re not alone to your surprise. Another figure also stands up to stretch, you aren’t aware of the presence until you hear the low sigh.

Veritas Ratio was still here, also finishing up work, just like yourself. Both hardworkers it seems… You two have a lot more in common than either of you would ever care to admit.

Upon acknowledging each other's presence he simply says. “Oh, so you’re still here as well?”

You nod, not finding the words to say, plus small talk is pointless in your mind. To which he nods back.

“Mind if I ask what kind of work you’re still working on at the time of night?” He tilts his head, you don’t know if it is cockiness in his voice or actual curiosity. On the other hand, he should also be very aware of your area of work.

“I’m done- about to head home~” You avoid the question, the simple rivalry and some sort of defensiveness still existing.

“Huh.” He ponders for a moment. “We’re both here, we’re both almost done and we’re both also heading out? It seems we’re more similar than I thought.” He makes a lame joke, to which you cross your arms and stare him down with a raised eyebrow as if to ask ‘Seriously?’.

You do answer, more of a scoff, “Perhaps” as you turn off the screen. Then the irony of the stupid attempt at the joke also brings a smile to your face. You don’t even notice it.

He also slightly smiles, realizing the stupidity of it, “Well… I mean, we’re already here at this late night. We could also just go ahead and leave together if it is alright with you?”

You nod, not thinking much of it, “Sure, c'mon.” You two exit the building.

He happily follows you out and you both soon exit the large lab building and walk out into the dark and chilly night. You weren’t aware, or maybe you didn’t notice the weather conditions being added to Herta’s space station. You two walk, all alone in the dark of late night, with only each other’s company to keep you warm.

He looks over to you, as he whispers. “Seems so peaceful and calm here, doesn’t it? It feels as if everyone has vanished from the station with you and me only left standing. Some life of the scientist huh?”

You nod at his words. Noticing your silence, it didn’t feel awkward, more tired, full of confusing thoughts and comforting silence. He continues, “How about we just keep walking without saying anything else? Let’s just… let’s just walk together and enjoy the peace of this… artificial night.”

“Sure” You didn’t mind his suggestion, walking beside him and feeling tempted to hold his hand.

He also gets an urge to hold your hand and even, hold you close. This quiet, late night has always made him feel at ease and rest, and this moment is no exception. In the darkness, it feels different, the way you two interact and behave.

You break the silence. “I’m still shocked we kissed today” to which he chuckles softly.

“I could almost say that I was surprised too. It didn’t feel like just any old kiss, it felt… like there was so much more inside it. A sort of intensity, a spark, that I couldn’t shake off for a long time. Almost as if my body felt as though it could simply melt from that kiss. It took me a bit to focus on my work again today.” He dryly chuckles.

You laugh softly at his analysis, “It appears someone liked it a lot.” And also avoiding the thoughts of it. He laughs softly at your tease and whispers, his voice a bit more tender and sensual. “Oh, I definitely liked it. I liked it a lot. It was as if I could hear some sort of music playing in that kiss. It was as if the very notes that this melody was composed of was just for that single kiss… that was the impression the kiss left on me…”

You smile, “Interesting” Is he actually truthful or mumbling nonsense? Who could know? You two bump into each other while walking and your nostrils fill with his cologne again today, just like while you were kissing and you sigh.

He also sighs and feels a sudden urge to wrap his arm around your waist, to take you in towards himself. He barely holds back the urge. “Interesting would be an understatement. You and I really must share a similar taste,” his voice goes lower, “but I can say one thing. I don’t think there was enough of our… closeness and the kissing.” He has more thoughts about this, yet quite unlike him he decides to keep them to himself, the thoughts of how your lips feel like they were made to just kiss each other and only each other, and perhaps meant to walk together in these quiet night station hours… He sighs softly, his mind turning into just nonsense.

It certainly is pleasant to be walking during these hours, and his words make you ponder over your thoughts and possible bubbling emotions. The calmness is unlike most other places, yet this peaceful atmosphere keeps you calm with which you also feel a bit of temptation. Feeling like you want to give in, want to take his hand in yours… Be close to him.

You both walk slowly, wanting perhaps to be closer to one another, your hands bumping into each other as you walk. Your bumps, as well as every other accidental touch and brush, only seem to tempt you further.

When your fingers brush against his you move them away like you got burnt, it feels like a zap of electricity, they feel too hot, too cold… like fire. And you wonder… gods why do you just want to hold his hand and get burnt? It seems as if those accidental touches are now turning even more intentional. You both keep the slow pace, perhaps both enjoying the feeling of being this close together and not wanting it to end.

Silence befalls you two once more. You don't know what to say. Stuck in a quiet and silent moment, as your bodies brush against each other with each step. Shoulders bumping, fingers brushing. Gravitating closer, you can feel that gentle heat of his body. There isn't much you two can say at this moment – you should just let this peaceful, calm, yet sensual and tempting moment speak for itself… a moment like this is worth more than any words could ever describe. Although this is more like a set of moments, rather than a single moment. Time feels like it is speeding by, seconds running yet it also feels like it has been slowed down.

„Veritas,“ You say his name softly. At the sound of your voice, he turns his head a little bit and looks right at you through the faint night lights. The look on his face seems to be filled with longing and passion, a look on his face that seems to be waiting for you to complete whatever sentence you were trying to say. He seemed quite eager to hear what you were about to say. His eyes looked as if they were burning with passion. Or perhaps you just imagined it all and he was merely waiting for you to speak, but you had his attention.

„You said you wanted to get to know me,“ you're looking ahead while walking, „yet we walk in silence.“ You try to slice the silence, the tension and thoughts of how he smells and how warm his touch would feel filling your mind, so you try to make conversation.

He nods and chuckles softly as you make this observation, „The truth is… it's just that I am enjoying being so close to you that I'd rather keep walking like this for a bit… I just…“ he sighs, closing his eyes for a moment, „I just want to feel you next to me without having to speak a word. And to also be honest…“ His voice turned to a whisper. „…I'm feeling a bit tempted. The quiet and the... silence of the night making everything feel so much more sensual, I'm having a hard time resisting…“

You look up at him, hoping your cheeks aren't shaded pink, „Resisting?“

He is fast to answer, „Resisting the temptation… I want to kiss you again… I want to feel that warmth again. Your perfume is driving me insane… I just want to get lost inside of you with every kiss… with every touch…“

Veritas' words leave you in shock, he is completely frank, and blunt. Your thoughts scatter at his eagerness. You offer a small reaction. „Oh…“

He chuckles silently to himself at your surprised reaction, he is getting slightly out of hand, out of his usual stoic self, leaning closer while walking to say, „I mean, we could stop here and just enjoy these feelings with each other. No words are needed. I believe the quietness and the silence have just really been making everything feel so much more… as I already said, sensual. So I ask you, dearest, would you like to continue walking together as we are, or would you like to let these feelings finally get the best of us, and just… kiss?“

You stop walking and look up at him. You smirk, „You don't have a lot of self-control with indulgence now, do you?“ You tilt your head when you say these teasing words. Then almost like karma, an artificial draft blows past you two, his cologne filling his senses, making you close your eyes while it returns you the what happened earlier that day before you open your eyes again.

Veritas' eyes light up when you point out the lack of self-control but he can't help but chuckle softly. „You don't know half of it. It has been eating at me today, seems like a dam of suppressed… thoughts burst through. And they seem to be getting better of me the more and more we stand like this. I do apologize for my eagerness, it is improper… Would you really like to know just how hard it has been to hold back from simply kissing you?“ He adds the last sentence as if he is saying a secret, whispering it softly.

You smirk, „Oh, do tell me~“ Barely hiding the way his cologne almost had you swept off of your feet. Of course, he sees your reaction, just how much of an effect he seems to be having on you right now. You can feel your body just wanting to sway towards his, wanting to feel his touch, his warmth.

„Oh, where should I begin“, he does his analysis as a doctor, „My breathing has been feeling… hot and heavy… it's almost as if my heart rate has been rising faster than normal, or perhaps the fact I want to embrace you with every fiber of my being right now. But don't make me start listing the symptoms.“ He ends with a smile, to which you smile back. You'd never normally do that, you wonder what is it about this late at night?...

„Well, a mere hug is innocent enough, Veritas“ You smirk, teasingly and continue walking now. He laughs at your words before speaking, „Indeed it is. But the problem I find with this so-called 'innocent hug' is that it would inevitably lead us into the unavoidable action of you and I embracing tighter and tighter until a point where our hands may wonder and- let me not ramble, but“, he whispers into your ear, „A hug is just the beginning. Would you still like such an 'innocent' act of a hug?“

He is right, and you know he is. You try hard to not imagine it as he speaks, struggling to hold the thoughts back, to try to ease the tension you tease. “Overthinking~” You shoot him down and walk, avoiding anything upfront and making it obvious to the clever man as to why. You know he is as desperate as you to touch each other, feel, hold hands… And confused by it.

“My dear friend”, the nickname icks you the wrong way, but you ignore it, “I have quite the knack for figuring things out. And I can easily see that you want to hold me and embrace me too, but you seem to want to tease and want to be teased. Would you like to tease you a little bit?” He smirks, reading you like a book and recognizing the weak spots he can aim at.

“Oh, Veritas please don’t tease me, I don’t take it well. And, also, I assume then the innocent hug would be a bad idea.” You answer honestly rather than putting up a strong front that would crumble in mere seconds.

He is amused at your sudden concern about being teased and has an amusing tone of voice, “Alright, alright then. I promise to not tease you… well… not too much. Yes… no hug for us. It would lead us to do more… well, it would lead us down a very… not so innocent path.”

You two continue walking at a rather slower pace, you get the feeling of just how close the two of you are getting, bodies moving almost in sort of a sync, every little sway that one of you makes is seemingly replicated by the other. It is as if all other movements have faded away, except for the two of you walking together silently in the darkness.

Your fingers brush each other making you sigh. The touch of your fingertips is felt through the fabric of clothes. You become aware of each other's breathing in this silence. It all drives you insane, why do you want to hold his hand so badly… it makes you sigh again. It appears your fingers brushing has the same effect on him, your hands gravitationally shifting towards each other, as if trying to come in contact with each other, you can barely resist and you can tell Veritas is struggling not to just take your hand in his. More bumping, the desire to hold hands feeling like a natural response at this point, yet you don’t. “Veritas…” You quietly sigh.

The sound of your sigh sends shivers down his spine, turning his head to look at you, and his face is readable like a children’s playbook right now. His desires are, the same as yours. Maybe you’re both too prideful and too scared, to be honest with each other.

“We are almost where I live.” You gesture with your head, telling him the walk will end soon. You now brush your hand against his on purpose, the feeling of getting burned makes your heart skip a beat. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow then…”

He nods and you two stop near your place. His mind wishes for an embrace but you two decided against that, his eyes scanning your body as if wishing he could keep this view of you in his head. “Good night.”

People are much more honest at night time, especially if tired, the walk was something… You sigh when you enter your home, feeling frustrated, the chemistry between you two is insane, but your pride, much like his, is too big. Both without the courage to make the next move. Playing this back-and-forth game, with neither of you being willing to take the leap of being the one to start it. Kissing can be discarded always, but if someone states their feelings… with both of your arrogant personalities and your ‘enemy’ like history… well it isn’t an easy thing. So for now, you both go your separate ways, yet wishing you were in his arms, you and him laying alone in bed.

The thought of him keeps crossing your mind. You are thinking of him as you crawl into bed, feeling the weight and warmth of the blankets surrounding you. As you lay there, you think about how it felt to walk beside him. Imagining how it would feel to sleep beside him, feel his body next to yours. Sleep overcomes you, dreams end up being of him.

The night passes by and another work day begins. As you walk into your workplace you can see Veritas walking to his desk, right across yours. He meets your eyes for a moment, it is obvious that last night left both of you shaken up and still confused… which is an understatement, to be true to the fact, both scared, tension still hanging in the air between you two.

Occasional rumors about the people who saw you kissing feel annoying to you but you divert your attention to work. Both focused on work in your own separate bubbles, time passes by quickly. Yet your mind doesn’t clear up, not with all the hushing and whispering of your co-workers in the background. Everyone seems to be chatting about this supposed ‘romantic attraction’ you have to each other, while you two pretend nothing happened yesterday. You make an effort to not even glance at him, at his indigo hair which just makes you wonder if it would feel as soft with your fingers going through it- no, you stop your thoughts.

Feeling tired from a few hours of work and your mind distracting you with memories and scenarios you get up from your desk, intending to walk outside and get a break, catch some air. Your work building has experiments of installing new weather conditions on the station getting performed on it, so you look forward to the artificial wind on the rooftop.

While you walk away, you hear footsteps, someone had the same intention as you. Following right behind you.

Outside you find a spot without anyone, yet the footsteps follow close behind. You slowly breathe in, and the air feels fresh, the experiment might be successful, but it sure feels real. You turn around to see who followed you to ruin your break and time alone.

When you turn, you find Veritas staring right back at you. You both wanted to get away and walk away from all the noise. His face is neutral, but his eyes are soft while he tries to figure out your mood, and your thoughts. The tension fills the air again, especially since he is the one person who wouldn't help with all the thoughts you had of him.

„Morning“, you say simply, standing a few steps away.

„Good morning to you too.“ He nods, tilting his head slightly, „Did you also want to get a break or some… space from everything?“

„Needed a break, yeah.“ You nod back.

Attempting to turn the conversation about work his tone sounds formal, „The work can be exhausting, stressful… especially when people keep… gossiping“, he gives you a knowing look, „and everything.“

„Sleep well?“ Your voice is also formal, yet soft, not as loud as it would be if you asked him while inside.

„I'll admit“, he chuckles, „I was having a few interesting dreams last night, but other than that, I slept nicely. How was your rest last night?“ You notice how this isn't something a co-worker or a close colleague would just say to one another. You both were behaving differently, dancing on the line, on the edge of it.

„It was alright.“ You keep it simple, as silence falls again. The silence could be cut with a butter knife when the air feels thick, tension growing as you keep staring at each other. How did years of disliking and rivalry turn into this… tension after the bet and the kiss? Well, more than one kiss, but that's beside the point. Both prideful, so prideful. Like cats, predatory cats, so carefully circle their prey, but not sure if the prey is poisonous yet. Both are in the same boat, feeling the same way.

You sigh, „Veritas, I'm-„, you exhale „frustrated, but… prideful. Like you.“ His gaze was still on you when you spoke, his eyebrows raising at your words. Both struggle to get any words out regarding the matter, yet the electricity between you two is too strong, too powerful. You feel a pull towards him, and you look away.

Veritas stares at you for another few moments, before looking down to clear his mind.

„You're awfully quiet“ You complain and move away a few steps.

At this point, he also struggles to contain it anymore. His chest filled with a strange feeling of some sort of anxiety at wanting to say something yet holding himself behind. Even as you walk away from him, he calls your name, making you turn around. „Wait-„ He looks almost vulnerable, yet it could be the experiment's artificial sun making you imagine things. You make a few steps closer, raising your chin, „Yes?“

„I wish to ask you something“ He speaks softly.

„Ask.“ You look at him, a strong wind blows and you both move closer to the wall of the building, the entrance to the rooftop area, now a step or two apart.

Standing closer you can almost feel the heat of his body, it makes you tremble for a second – or is it just your imagination playing with you? He leans closer, and you also feel the desire to lean in close to him as well. He is about to say something when rain starts falling heavily and you both move under the entrance's rooftop, your bodies close to each other. So close, so close… your face a breath away. He exhales shakingly. You make an observation, a wrong one, „Why are you nervous?“

He chuckles a little bit, „Quite the opposite actually. Just finding the words for the question.“

You deadpan, „Ask then.“

The wind blows stronger moving the direction of the rain falling and you two move even closer together. The proximity makes your mind hazy, struggling to find words. Upon moving closer and the sudden temperature drop you feel the heat between your bodies, the strong wind now blowing the rain right over you. The feeling of electricity makes you both lean in closer while your hair and clothes get damp from the rain. The rain cooling you down, your breaths mingling and you curse under your breath.

Almost like you could read his mind you find the words for the very thing on his mind, „Why are we like this?“

“I… we’ve been like this ever since… well we’ve been like this for years. I feel so drawn to you…”

You tsk at his words and look away, your voice full of complaints, “I can’t get you off of my mind since the bet, your… cologne, and your- our kissing… Why the hell do you smell so good?” You furrow your brows.

He chuckles when he hears talk about the bet, making his cheeks blush a soft pink, and laughs a bit when you mention his scent.

You sigh, continuing your complaining, “And it doesn’t help that you’re so goddamn attractive and the fact that despite our hatred we know each other pretty damn well, so all this… tension…” Your words make the man chuckle warmly. He nods, agreeing that you are very familiar with one another, also feeling attracted to you. Veritas looks at you curiously.

Even after the intimate moment in the hallway yesterday you both still hesitate. You sigh, thinking of more things to complain about while he smirks at you and remains quiet.

He wonders, maybe it was more than a bet, maybe an excuse to actually get close to him, he will ask you more about it in the future. You both hesitate now, staying quiet with something just on the tip of your tongue.

You narrow your eyes, “You’re surprisingly quiet for a man who always had something to say about me.” To which he chuckles, very much aware of how right you are. He always had something to pick on about you. But now, he can’t help but smile at you silently. You curse at him softly, “Cat got your tongue?” He laughs even more, the proximity making him speechless, he looks down shaking his head slightly in amusement while you shake your head and look behind him. The tension fills up, cold rain hitting you, the desire to kiss rising. You both turn to face each other and your lips brush accidentally, just barely. You can feel your own heart beating faster when you slow your movements, almost like freezing upon the soft brush. It all feels overwhelming as you both fight the desire to kiss. You sigh and look down.

While you’re focused on resisting your urges, he moves closer. The two of you are breathing heavily, you can feel his breath against your lips, the heat of his body. You observe the way he drifts closer, but his hands remain at his sides. So proud, so hesitant.

You look at each other, the final drop about the overflow everything, you want to reach out, and his hands are formed in fists to hold back his wish to touch you.

You curse and meet his gaze, “I can’t- I… I am not a patient person, Veritas” You say sternly before meeting his lips. This time it feels as if the tension of years that passed is getting released. You both press up against each other, the heat rising. The kiss feels like it will be a longer one, your hunger to kiss him only growing while the rain pours down your back. Your hands move up his chest, over his soaked shirt, feeling the muscles of his torso, one hand moving to his damp hair pulling him closer even.

He turns pushing you gently against the wall, pressing his body into yours almost offering protection from the rain and the wind, unhelpful, you both keep getting watered down like dried plants. Not that you two would notice it that much at this point. The rain is pouring down on you, washing away your worries. You breathe in, his scent swimming around the air, making your mind foggy, both desiring to be even closer to each other. His hand stays a moment on your hips before moving to your back, pushing you into him, the proximity between you two nonexistent.

You pull away, creating a tiny distance between your lips, mumbling, “Sorry”.

He shakes his head softly, but his eyes are on your lips, they’re wet from the rain, like his. He breathes heavily, attempting to catch his breath. You look at each other, the loud rain falling the only sound.

Feeling like your actions spoke louder than words you don’t say anything more than that. He notices, chuckles, and speaks, “I know our… history. I may have never admitted myself but I always found you so… insanely clever, strategic… hot- and all of our good and bad conversations, moments when we behaved as friends- and moments when we were behaving as enemies… I- I was just too stubborn to acknowledge it- that, there might be something below the surface.”

And he was right, you two from yesterday played this back and forth, of talking and making out to prove points, and stating your confused feelings and thoughts, yet still held back. It is difficult, the fear that he might turn around and smirk, mock you for believing his actions, saying it was an experiment or something. It is very obvious that he is experiencing the same fear. Your walls are up high, and so are his. The never-ending pride, arrogance, strategy- move planning, what is the other person thinking… Is this another of his tricks… are you playing a trick on him? Too many years of lending a helping hand, or giving a snarky comment as a bully would. Of course, you would both be on edge, on the edge of control to not jump each other's bones, on the edge of misbelief, on the edge of calling him a liar. Because would you even dare imagine such a thing? You and him… him and you… It sounds good, feels right and feels wrong, feels strange, and feels like it was always meant to be- yet it doesn’t. So you both stand tall, defensive, and wishing for the other's attention. Hoping to recognize the truth and escape the lies.

He whispers, “This rivalry seems like it was an excuse to stay close, which at this moment-“, he smirks, leaning closer, “I don’t mind at all, wouldn’t you agree?”

You shake your head, whispering back, “I don’t know anything anymore”

It is painfully attractive the way he leans above you, his nose next to yours droplets of water dripping down it and falling to your lips. It feels intimate, that one droplet… you lick it off of your lips, and his eyes are glued to the action, inhaling slowly. He gathers himself and whispers, “May I propose a goal? A tool of discovery? A new goal, to sway off of rivalry, a goal of keeping ourselves united and closer than ever, and of helping each other become the best we can be and be the best we want to be for each other?”

You smirk, easily reading between the lines, “Are you asking me to date you?”

Veritas chuckles under his breath, every word spoken softly, no need for any loud or even normal volume, “Yes… yes, I am… it may be ridiculous, but I just… can’t deny the strength of…”, he makes a small break, finding himself at a loss of proper words, “us.” He looks up, “Imagine it… how brilliant we are together. Yes, I could ramble on about a ‘power couple’ of sorts and intellect and how smart we are, but I just want you. I don’t care about that, I love your genius, and the way you work and behave- it is extremely attractive I might add.” He smiles, and continues, “In this moment, I just want you, I want to keep you close, stay close to you, I want to see us and where we would go, would we work…”

You fidget with his fingers, thinking it all over, the cold water cooling you down and the passionate kiss you had moments ago moving away from your mind. Going out, to get to know each other isn’t a bad idea… but you know so much, years of him, years of Doctor Veritas Ratio and his habits. If anything you already know his flaws, as well as his virtues. This leaves only one option you’d do, “I may find myself agreeing to a new goal, Veritas Ratio.” He smiles at your words, but you still feel uneasy- like this is a dream you will wake up from and you are again being snarky to each other, the thoughts don’t help so you say more to yourself than to him as he says, “Thank you-“, interrupting him, “Oh, hush now” and crashing your lips on his again, to drown the thoughts.

This time the kiss feels slower in a way, deeper, passionate. He cups your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your cheekbone. It is almost sensual, the desire still clings onto you two, below the surface, an eternal dance between attraction and emotions, fast making out and slow meaningful touches.

You dare to take your hand in his, he swiftly gives you a small squeeze, and slowly separates your lips, with your bodies still pressed against each other.

Looking at him it feels strange to think he is taken, moreover that he is taken by you. He is yours… well, and you are his. He leans in kissing you softly once more, and you feel both of your desires rising again- “Veritas”, you mumble against his lips. He clings onto you even more, truly lacking the mentioned self-control in moments like these, you catch your breath, separating from the kiss, completely soaked with rain now. “Just because we are at the top of the food chain doesn’t mean we should abuse our power and take too long breaks.” You say in a normal voice, it is very much so unlike either of you to behave such a way, and he probably got carried away.

He laughs softly, nodding to your words. Pulling slightly away to give you some space, the wet clothes making you stick together makes both of you laugh, and he gently tugs his shirt away.

A couple of moments of silence pass, his hand caressing your cheek, gazing into your eyes, not trying to read you like he usually is, it looks like he is almost… adoring you.

Soon enough you two return to work. When asked about why you’re soaking wet- you call out the weather experimenting on the roof, to which people nod in understanding or the reckless ones dare laugh.

Later that day, again you two are the last to leave, and you walk, again, just like the night before. The night is quiet, there’s a cool draft when you exit the building, you both walk in silence, there are not a lot of words to say, and there are too many. At least you’re now together, each other’s. Your hands bump into one another.

You sigh, not wanting yesterday’s walk to repeat, and take his hand in yours, making him smile. It may all be complicated and confusing, but this feels right. You will take it slowly, this… everything. His thumb caresses your knuckles and you two walk with more ease, bumping less into each other.

When you reach your home you both stop, “Good night, Veritas” You say softly, releasing his hand, your mind does wonder how his body would feel warming up yours, would he hold you tight, would he snore… You chuckle at your thoughts. Similarly, to you, he wonders how it would feel to have his arms wrapped around you tightly, your bodies pressed against each other the entire night. You keep staring at each other- “You won’t say good night back?” You tilt your head, teasing, knowing he is thinking about something.

He laughs gingerly, raising an eyebrow and shrugging, “I wasn’t quite sure if you finished saying your goodbye yet, since you were… hmm… staring at me” He smiles brightly, happy with how he phrased it. “But yes, good night. It was nice walking with you. I shall see you tomorrow.” He reaches for your hand and places a soft kiss on the back of it while making eye contact, you step closer and kiss his cheek, whispering, “Sweet dreams, Veritas”.

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