#look terrifying and relish in every second of it

[julie-su]

Dress in a way that terrifies parents and makes 14 year olds widen their eyes in envy and inspiration

[quimichi]

˚ ✦ 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐎𝐃 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　. 　*　

WARNINGS: skin to skin contact, cuddling, it's all fluff but yk, pet names, light NSFW, I apologize if my view of these characters do not line up with yours or they may seem inaccurate, this is a mess btw, + lazy editing

SUMMARY: The love of their life/favorite person (you) graced them with love, affection and skin to skin contact...

CHARACTERS: Everyone x F!Creator Reader

WORD COUNT: 20.680

A/N: This was written before Natlan came out soo no Natlan characters yet. Also, the platonic parts are shorter. I unfortunately can't add more tags, they somehow stopped.

Aether

Aether is all too happy to spend his time with you on the cliffside; he leans against you, his head resting idly against your shoulder. Whenever he speaks, his breath would brush against your neck, tickling you gently. He is practically melting against you; he’s like a clingy cat, enjoying every second your warm skin touches his. "I've missed you," he says softly, lifting his head to gaze up at you with a dreamy smile.

You can't help but chuckle, "Understandable, you're barely by my side. You always end up traveling over Teyvat." Aether’s expression softens. He looks a little guilty when you bring up travelling, but his arms tighten around you, pulling his body a little closer.

”I know I’m always off adventuring…but I always come back to you. I always come back to you.” He pauses, and then he smiles a little wider. He seems cheeky when he adds: ”You do remember that, right?”

You pinch his cheek, such a brat sometimes. Aethers face scrunches up as you gently pinch his cheek. He looks disgruntled for a few moments, before he grins. His expression becomes warm and soft when he returns to the conversation. ”Well, as long as you remember,” he says with a smile. His gaze flits to the side for a moment, as he looks up at the sky; the sun is setting, casting warm light upon the landscape. He shivers.

”It’s getting cold.” he grins again, before he nestles himself comfortably against you. He wraps his arms around your midriff, trying to pull you closer.

”And you’re so warm,” he mutters, burying his face against you. He’s enjoying this more than a little...

Albedo

He can't help it. He wraps his arms around you, clinging to you almost desperately. He doesn't care how it looks or how utterly pathetic he seems as he clings to you. "Your Grace..." he mumbles, shifting further to bury his head against your collarbone. His hold on you has grown almost like an iron grip, as though he expects you to vanish the second he lets go.

He seems terrified, in a way, of the thought that this is merely an ephemeral dream. That he'll wake up and find himself by his shrine in the cold with only a lingering memory of your warm touch. He fears that any second, you would pull away and he would be left empty and wanting more. Like an addict deprived of their fix, he fears and craves for your touch with his whole heart. "Hmm?" a hum escapes you as you mindlessly stroke his hair. Albedo's body seems to loosen like liquid as you stroke his hair. He leans against you, almost desperately soaking up the affection like an addicted man.

"Your Grace..." he mumbles again, shivering as you run your hands through his silky strands. The action is so simple, and yet he seems to relish in the feeling. His arms are still around you, and they tighten again as you stroke his hair. After being deprived of affection for so long, he can't help but cling to you as though you'll slip away the second he lets go.

"Please don't... leave, ever"

Amber

She sighs softly as ahe curls against you, he back against your chest. The sound of the breeze gently blowing the blades of the windmill makes her smile faintly, as her eyes flutter shut. Luckily it's night, or the people of Mondstadt would go wild over the fact that you would be here. Amber seems at peace like this, and she can't resist nuzzling into your neck. Her expression is soft and she hums quietly along with the sound of the windmill, the gentle breeze making her hair stir from its position.

“Your Grace?” she calls quietly, lifting her head up just enough to meet your eyes. "Hmm?" Amber hesitates, for a moment, before asking his next question quietly. “You… you said you love me too, when I told you I love you. Do you-“ she pauses, her voice cracking, and she has to force out the next few syllables, “do you really mean it?”

"Of course I mean it." Amber lets her head fall backwards against your chest again, her expression softening. A mixture of emotions flicker across hwr face, a look of relief, but also disbelief that this is all real, that you truly love her.

“Say it again, please?”

"I love you."

"...thank you, so much."

Al-Haitham

Al-Haitham has his arms wrapped around you, holding you against him close. He can feel the rise and fall of your chest against his, every breath you take a gentle reminder of your presence. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling the scent that's so distinctly you. You feel his heart thudding against your back, but he seems otherwise still, holding you firmly and yet gently at the same time. Each breath he takes is shaky, as if he could shatter at any moment. His arms tighten around you, holding you so close that he's afraid he may be hurting you. But he can't help himself. You're here. You're in his arms, warm and close and alive.

He shuts his eyes, inhaling the scent of your hair. "Yours," he whispers quietly into your skin. "Hm? What?" you heard what he said, you just wanted him to say it again more clear. He feels your hum more than he hears it, the low rumble in your body reverberating through his own. Al-Haitham keeps his arms wrapped tightly around you, his body moulding itself around you.

He lifts his head, whispering into your ear, "I said, 'yours.'"

Every fiber of his being belongs to you, and he feels the need to remind you.

"Yours, and mine" he whispers again, pulling you closer.

Arlecchino

Her arms are wrapped around your naked body, her exposed chest warm against your back. Her head rests atop yours, arms curling around your body to hold you closer. She can feel your hair against her skin, and she breathes in your scent. It's so familiar to her. So perfect.

She holds you like she's worried you'll be snatched away from her. Arlecchinos breathing is slow and measured, matching the steady rhythm of the crackling fireplace. Her chest rises and falls against your back, a constant reminder of her presence.

With you in hwr arms, she feels whole. She presses her nose to your head again, inhaling.

"That was nice..." you whisper, snuggling into her chest more and closing your eyes, enjoying the peace and quite. Arlecchino lets out a quiet laugh, her breath ruffling your hair.

"It was beautiful," she agrees. "You are beautiful." She reaches down and brushes her fingernails along your skin, the tips moving down your arm, tracing patterns against your skin.

"No, it was prefect, just like you." She corrects herself.

Ayaka

Ayaka can barely believe it.

She's in your bed, in your arms, pressed against the very body she's worshipped for so long. For a few moments, she's simply frozen as her mind struggles to catch up. Ayaka knows she should speak or do something, but the feeling of your body next to hers is a sensation so completely foreign, she's utterly speechless. All of this is new— the soft press of your curves against her back, your breath by her ear..."Your hair is so soft, 'yaka" you whisper against her ear. Ayaka feels her face flush at your words. Her hands involuntarily clutch at the sheets, pulling at them as she struggles to not react to your touch— except...she loves it. She loves it more than anything.

Her eyes flutter shut as she tries to keep herself in control. She wants to give into you, lean back, let herself melt into you... but at the same time, she can't. She struggles to speak, managing to stutter out, "May I...turn around, please?"

You obviously give her permission. Ayaka lets out a soft breath, feeling it leave her lungs. At your affirmation, she turns around, finally facing you.

For a moment, Ayaka doesn't meet your eyes, she meets your lips. She's all too aware of how close you are to her, how her body presses against yours. She tries to still her heart, but the warmth of your skin burns through her clothes, leaving her senses overwhelmed.

"Your lips..."

Ayato - nah cause for some reason that's my fav??

He buries his face into your hair and sighs, his chest rising and falling against your back with the motion.

"You smell so sweet," he confesses. His nose brushes against the shell of your ear gently, as if afraid to break the spell. "Like you are heaven made flesh." You raise a skeptic eyebrow, "Heaven made flesh huh? The most accurate description I've heard all those millenia." "Heaven made flesh," he mumbles again, his arms pulling you in closer to him. His fingers dig into your sides, holding you tight.

He takes a deep breath, the scent of your hair filling his nostrils like a drug. "If my hands burn when they touch you, well," he says gently, "then it serves me right for having the arrogance to touch an angel." You roll your eyes, "Don't be ridiculous, you have never burnt yourself by touching me" "Don't I?" He teases, laughing gently along with you. He brushes his lips against your neck, his breath coming out as a warm shiver against your skin.

"I may not be physically burnt, but I feel the heat all the same," he whispers. "I feel the heat when you laugh, when you speak, when I look at you. You're my own personal inferno." "And you are water, pure and fresh. If I'm an inferno, you will evaporate." you add. He laughs softly against your skin. "What a beautiful way to describe me. Water. Fresh. Pure."

He smiles, pulling back ever so slightly. The hand at your waist wanders to your chin, lifting it so that he can look you in the eyes.

"A waterfall doesn't evaporate when it brushes against fire," he says, blue eyes sparkling. "It extinguishes it." You blink, once, twice, until you deadpan. "So you wanna kill me?" Ayato scoffs, pulling you in closer to his chest and burying his face in your hair once more.

"Of course not," he answers, his tone indignant. "I don't wish to kill you. I wish to drown you."

He chuckles at his own words, the sound full and rich against your ear.

"Together we boil?" You ask

"Together we boil."

Baizhu

Changsheng, the white-scaled serpent, rests herself in a loose coil around Baizhu's neck, draped across his broad shoulders. She lifts her head and flicks her tongue out, glancing at you with her slitted eye before settling back into her nap.

As for Baizhu himself, he remains tense and stock-still at your side. He is utterly stiff, as if afraid that if he moved, he would somehow lose your touch. "You should relax and take a rest. You've been working too hard lately." Changsheng nods, "You tell this idiot." Baizhu blinks as if he's trying to process your words. To suggest that he rests, especially in your presence, seems... almost disrespectful. But after a glance at your face, he swallows his protest, opting to give a small nod at your suggestion.

"As you wish," he replies after a moment's hesitation. He almost looks ashamed; almost as if not working and devoting his entire being to you at all moments is failing you. Baizhu remains silent as you run soft fingers through his hair. He seems almost afraid to move, to breathe, to break some unspoken rule regarding his position as your humble worshiper.

His eyes flutter shut as you idly toy with his hair, threading your fingers through the green locks and gently tugging. Even the small gesture is enough to almost send him to another world. He takes a careful, deliberate inhale, savoring the scent of your presence.

"Realxing can be nice", at this point he's already half asleep when he said that. But one is for sure fully awake now, "Been saying that since forever, but you never listen!" "Shh Changsheng."

Barbara - aged up

She is cuddling you so close she's practically molded to you, with her breathing and the beating of her heart syncing up to match your rhythm.

She nuzzles her head against yours, burying herself against you and breathing deep with an almost desperate need. It's as though she can't get enough of you, and as if you're the air she needs to breathe. "I… I love you," she murmurs, like a prayer. "Never leave me." With every word she says, Barbara holds you even closer to her. She craves your presence, your touch, and your words more than anything else in the world.

With each gentle whisper of 'never leave me,' she grips you tighter in her arms, burying herself against you like she wants to become one with your very being.

"You're everything," she whispers. "I want to be with you forever."

"Babs? Sing me a song, hm? The one I like so much, please." you ask of her as you let your finger run over her cheek. She nods, her breath leaving her in one soft, sharp exhale that sounds like a sigh. "Anything for you," she says fervently.

Barbara takes a moment, before she begins to sing a soft, beautiful song. Her voice is like the moon on a clear night, like the first flowers blooming after winter.

The song she sings is one of devotion and adoration, its lyrics promising the moon, the stars, and everything in between, but only if it meant she could spend an eternity with you.

Beidou

She had her head leaning comfortably against your side, one of her muscular arms curled around your waist. Her eyes were fixated on the sky, taking in the constellations. To her, there was nothing more beautiful than the celestial bodies scattered across the night sky. She lets out a dreamy sigh, enjoying the feeling of the cold breeze on her face.

"You know, I used to dream about the stars," she says, a small smile playing on her lips. "And what did you dream about?" You ask, genuinely interested. She usually never talk so dreamy like this. She lets out a soft sigh, her eyes still fixed on the stars above. Her arm tightens around your waist for a moment as she ponders over your question. Then, she answers in her usual low whisper.

"I used to dream about sailing the stars one day," she confesses. Her voice is soft and slightly wistful. She's clearly still imagining the dream she used to have. "I'd sail through the cosmos, visiting all the planets out there. I wanted— no, I needed—"

Her voice is quivering slightly. She seems embarrassed. "Hm?" Beidou hesitates for a moment, swallowing down the lump forming in her throat. Then, in a slightly shaky voice, she continues.

"I wanted to find someone special out there, someone to be my light in the universe. Someone to shine above the stars themselves...But I think I already found it."

"Yeah, I think I did too."

Bennett - aged up

Bennett all but melts within your arms. He's practically boneless on the bed; like a puddle, he fits perfectly into your embrace, like a missing puzzle piece into the gaps within you. He's clingy, arms wrapped tightly around your torso, pressing himself against you as much as he can, wanting to feel you; to be with you.

His chest still aches from the wound he had received, but your presence alone is enough distraction. "I'm sorry for my...bad luck."

You look down at him, stroking his hair, "You can borrow my luck for tomorrow." Bennett looks up from your lap, his eyelashes fluttering softly as he considers your words. "Your luck?" he asks, his voice laced thick with surprise; he's never heard of someone sharing their luck before. Bennett's mind races as he considers this.

"I-I could borrow your luck, your Grace?" he murmurs, as if he's afraid of offending you. You can't help but hold back a giggle, how cute he is sometimes. "Always, everyday. Just promise me you take care. Maybe it'll balance your bad luck out a bit." Bennett inhales— his breath shaky. He doesn't understand why you're being so kind to a lowly creature like him, but you're giving him your luck, of all things. You're sharing your luck.

He knows that the chances of him getting hurt tomorrow are exponentially smaller now, but he can't help but worry— the fact you're giving him something as personal as your luck is overwhelming enough, and he's unsure how to respond.

"...Thank you," he whispers reverently. "Thank you so much...my love."

Capitano - shiny daddy in the house omg

Capitano continues to run his fingers through your hair, his fingers gentle and soft as if he was afraid that he would accidentally pull on a strand of your hair if he wasn't careful.

There's an almost reverent sense to his touch, as if he was a devoted priest and you the god he worships. His cold, gold gaze seems to hold a strange gentleness to it, and there's an almost tender look in his eyes that is unusual for the stoic war crazy man. (Lol)

"You seem relaxed...Cap." a teasing smile creeping on your face at the name. "Mm," Capitano hums in acknowledgment, his eyes half-lidded as he gazes at you.

"Your presence is... calming," he admits. His voice is deep and rich, making the statement sound more like a declaration of love than mere words. "It... brings me peace."

As though he was a loyal dog, he seeks your touch as he pulls you closer; shifting so that your body is almost laying on his. "I'm glad."

"Mm," Capitano's response this time is almost a low rumble. He closes his eyes, letting them shut in a rare moment of vulnerability. His arms wrap around you, almost pulling you over his body. If you listen closely, you can hear his breathing start to grow more relaxed, almost like a low, quiet purr.

It almost seems as if he's trying to keep you close, as though you might disappear at any moment. "Hmpf...maybe I'm going a bit too soft."

"Damn since when do you talk so much?"

"Hmpf."

Candace (ik the color is off, i accidentally deleted the name sooo yeah sry for my lazy fix)

While youe gaze is fixed upon her village, hers is fixed on you. She swallows, trying to force herself to keep calm. It's hard, with the way her heart seems to leap in her chest at your sheer closeness. The way the scent of your skin drifts to her nose, causing her breath to catch. Her mind is filled with thoughts she would never dare to speak aloud.

"Beautiful," she murmurs under her breath. Her eyes dart back to you, tracing up and down your form. She can't tear her gaze away from your face, completely caught in your spell.

"The village...or me?" Candace's breath catches in her throat as she hears your words. The teasing tone you speak with, knowing full well the effect it had on her. "Ah... I meant the village, Your Grace," she manages to stutter out, her voice breathless, a little hoarse.

She swallows, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "But you-" she takes a deep breath before she speaks, "you are far more alluring by far." Her eyes do not leave your form.

"I can only hope that my girlfriend finds me alluring." Candace flushes pink. "Of course," she can't help the way her gaze rakes up and down your form again, following each contour. Her mind races with thoughts. Of her hands tracing each curve, of her fingers trailing over your exposed skin...

Candace swallows, trying to control herself. She tries to force her eyes to look elsewhere, but they stubbornly refuse, glued to your figure.

"And I hope that you love me as much as I love you...my grace."

Charlotte

Charlotte’s expression is utterly blissed as she hugs you close to her chest, her arms wound tightly around your torso. The girl buries her face into your hair, breathing in the scent of your hair, and sighs contentedly. She doesn’t speak for a moment, instead choosing to relish and commit everything to memory; the warmth of your body against hers, you holding her close. "How was your latest article?" Your words came out more muffled than youd like to admit, due to her chest all around your face. Charlotte huffs a quiet laugh, the sound rumbling gently against your ear. She strokes your hair idly, the other hand tracing up and down your spine slowly.

"Hmm, it went well. Though that's not very surprising,” she says with a smirk. “I could have written about a rock and still gotten a raise; my editor is a hopeless simp, and has a massive crush on me.” Charlotte pulls back, her expression slightly amused. “I could flirt with him and write a shitty article, and he’d still be head-over-heels for me. Hell, the entire company wants me. I’m very charming like that,” she says smugly. "Don't let it go to your head." You warn her. “Oh, why not? I’m just stating facts.” Charlotte says, feigning an air of innocence. “I mean, who can resist me?” she laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

"Just joking." She says more calmly, "I love my job, I love Fontaine and I love you....and maybe I love fooling around with you a bit."

"Oh yeah you definitely do."

Chevreuse

Chevreuse's head rests on your lap, your fingers woven in her hair, the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breaths slowly. Her mind is still working, still worrying over the case that has her so torn, and your fingers running over her scalp do little to help.

"It's hopeless..." she murmurs, her voice soft in the comfortable silence that has fallen over the room. "I don't know what I'll tell them when I finally have to admit this..." Her eyes are closed now, and her voice has grown quieter with each passing moment. The words leave her as if they're barely formed in her mind; you can hear the exhaustion that clings to her every syllable.

"I'm not any closer to finding them now than I was two months ago," she says bitterly. Her jaw tightens, but she doesn't say anything else. There's no need; you can feel the anger bubbling up behind her sharp inhale.

"You'll find them, I know you will." "How do you know?" she snaps back. In spite of the short tone, though, her voice is lacking the harshness it normally has. Chevreuse is always like this when she's tired. Frustration, fear, pain-- it all comes out as anger. She buries her face against you, hiding in the crook of your neck. "Because no one is as good as you." you let your fingers run through her messy hair. "Stop complimenting me."

The words sound like an order, but there's no sharpness to her tone. No command, no firmness. It sounds more like a plea, a cry for help she won't say out loud.

"I can't think straight when you do that."

Childe

Childe is wrapped around you, clinging to you like a shadow, his head buried in the crook of your neck. He’s nuzzling your skin, pressing gentle kisses and murmuring against your ear. One arm is thrown around your waist, holding you tight.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs. “You’re all mine. My darling, my angel…”

You chuckle lightly, "Someone's possessive today." Childe nips your shoulder at your words, smiling against your skin. He shifts slightly, pressing himself even closer to you.

“Mm. Damn right, I am. No one can have you but me.” His hand runs up your side, drawing senseless patterns as he traces your curves. “You’re mine,” he repeats again, his voice hoarse. “All mine. No one gets to touch you. No one gets to look at you the way I do. No one is ever getting to put their hands on you like I do, no one gets to hear you make those pretty sounds for them—”

His hand tightens around your hip, fingers digging into your flesh. "Childe-!" Childe laughs a little when you warn him, though he does loosen his grip on you. “What?” he asks, his hand still roaming across your body, his touch both gentle and possessive.

“You don’t want me to mark you all over? Claim you for my own?” He pushes his luck and continues kissing your neck, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of little love marks over your skin. “How could I let anyone else see you like this, hm?” he murmurs. “You look so pretty, all breathless and flushed under me. No one else gets to see you looking so nice and needy. But most importantly..."

"Hm?"

"No one gets the love from you like I do."

Chongyun - aged up

Chongyun relaxes against you. His head is leaned against your shoulder and his eyes are closed. The proximity to you is comfort and ecstasy in equal measures. He takes a deep breath as he takes in your scent, savouring it, relishing the fact that the two of you are so close.

"Can I ask a question?" His eyes are still closed; he's comfortable, but he wants something answered. "Hm?" You humm. He hesitates for a moment, unsure of how to phrase his question. "If it wouldn't offend you," he begins, his voice a little tentative, "I wanted to ask if…. I could call you something."

"Call me what?" You have patience, for him you always do. His face flushes a little pink. Suddenly, he can't look you in the eye, he instead stares at your shoulder as he tries to speak.*

"Well, like…" he pauses. "Like a term of endearment. Can I call you something like 'my love', for example?"

You laugh lightly, damn he's cute. "Of course you can." Chongyun's face reddens further, but it's out of flustered embarrassment, rather than anything else. A quiet sense of relief washes over him, and he relaxes, fully resting his head against your shoulder and wrapping an arm around your waist.

"My love," he says softly, testing the words on his tongue. It feels right; more than right, it feels perfect. It feels like the universe aligning. Finally.

"My love…"

Clorinde

Clorinde is curled up against you, pressed as close to you as is physically possible. Even now, it does not feel close enough. She buries her nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. A contented hum bubbles up from her throat, a soft, low sound of approval. The perfume you gave her lingers in her hair, on her skin.

She savours the feeling. Savours the fact it is YOU who gave it to her.

"I thought something subtle is to your liking. It's a special made perfume just for you, dear." "Mm." Clorinde nods softly, shifting a bit. She adjusts herself in your arms, her cheek resting against your chest, ear laid atop your heartbeat. It's steady and soothing; she could easily fall asleep to the sound.

"Like an aphrodisiac." She mutters, the words mumbled against your skin. "No doubt it would drive anyone insane." She lifts a hand, gently running it down your arm, down to your wrist. Her fingertips brush along your skin, a barely-there touch that makes her want to drown in your embrace.

"You've already poisoned me. I'm utterly at your mercy."

It's a half-joke, but the words hold more truth than Clorinde can even begin to express. "Ooor you're just incredibly tired and talk some nonsense." Clorinde lets out a half-laugh, half-groan. "I'm tired, yes, but…"

She pauses momentarily, burying her face into your shoulder. Her hair tickles your chin.

"It's still true. I'm weak against you," she murmurs. "I don't know how you do it. You could do anything you wanted to me. I'd let you," she admits, her voice a quiet whisper. She lifts her head enough to look up at you. In this angle, she looks almost delicate, the sharp corners of her face blurred and softened.

"There is no one else I'd let ruin me," she says softly, a smirk gracing her lips.

"No one else who could even come close. I'm a good fighter after all."

Collei - aged up

As you hold Collei close, you can feel the way she relaxes, almost melting against you, her small stature so slight and fragile. She presses her face against your chest, savoring your warmth and comfort. Collei’s soft breath is against your skin, a steady and reassuring presence, like the beating of a bird’s wing.

She takes a shaky breath, her words barely a whisper in the soft silence of the room.

"Please don’t let go.”

"Is the academia exhausting you?" You carefully ask. Collei nuzzles against your chest, her voice a weary whisper. "It is," she admits, her words coming out in a resigned sigh. "It's always too much. Too much to learn, too much to remember, too much to do."

She hesitates for a moment, as if trying to gather her thoughts, her breath trembling against your skin. "Sometimes... Sometimes I just feel so tired." She buries herself against you, trying to draw comfort from your presence. Her weary body is tense, coiled like a spring about to release.

"I don't know if I can keep it up," she confesses, her voice small and vulnerable. She clings to you as if you are the only thing keeping her afloat in a sea of her fears. "I want to... But it’s hard."

"I believe in you."

Your words feel like a soothing balm to Collei's weary heart. A shaky breath leaves her, as if a burden has suddenly lifted from her shoulders.

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice filled with quiet gratitude. Her slender arms tighten around you, her frame almost trembling with the effort she puts into holding herself together.

"I... I really needed to hear that tonight."

Columbina

Columbina sighs contentedly, wrapped up in your embrace. The sound of her soft voice hums through the air, the melody light as the touch of a summer breeze. She nuzzles up against you as she hums, her eyelashes fluttering against your skin, the soft puffs of her breath warm against your body. For this moment, her body loosens, her muscles loosening into a soft pile of flesh against yours. For once she does not wear her usual eye cover.

After a few moments, Columbina speaks, breaking the comfortable silence between you. "Did you know," she murmurs against the soft skin of your throat.

Her lips brush your skin with every word. She doesn't open her eyes, and continues speaking as she presses herself even closer to you. The hand she rests against your hip pulls you gently against her.

"That there is nobody else I adore more than you?"

She lets out a soft moan when she feels you pull her closer, her breath warm and soft against your skin. She keeps her eyes closed. One arm wraps around your waist, her hand resting against you. It slides against your form, drawing itself up your side. Her breathing is still steady, but her heart feels as if it is pounding against her ribs.

"You're the only one I love," she murmurs, her words more a breath than a sound, "and if anyone ever dares to come near you..."

"...I'll fucking kill them."

Cyno

Cyno's arms are around you, his body pressed against yours. He's enjoying the warmth of your embrace, face buried in the crook of your neck. He smells faintly of fresh rain and smoke, an interesting mixture.

"I don't know how you can tolerate me," he murmurs softly into your skin. He doesn't lift his head, just nuzzling into your warmth.

"Meh, you're alright. Not THAT bad."

"Mm, yeah, only 'not THAT bad'," he says with a hint of a sarcastic tone, but his voice is soft, and there's a smile in his words. One of his hands begins to slowly trace circles on your skin, his touch gentle, almost reverent. His grip on you tightens imperceptibly as he cuddles closer. Cyno leans his forehead against yours, his breath fanning across your face. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply— enjoying the way you feel, the way you smell. He's quiet for a moment, his body relaxing as his tension seems to evaporate.

"No one else would put up with me," he admits, a hint of vulnerability seeping into his words, "No one else would love me. Only you, always you." He hums against your skin, his lips moving down to your neck. Every breath that leaves his mouth feels like a prayer. Against your flesh he mouths, 'you are my world.' against your collarbone he mutters, 'I adore you.' and against the hollow of your throat he says, 'I don't need anything else but you.' A shiver rolls through his frame, his body writhing against yours. A low, shuddering moan slips past his lips and into your ear, his arms tightening against you.

"I love you," he practically pants against your skin, his voice broken and ragged.

"I love you so much."

Dainsleif

Dainsleif holds you close, against his chest.

His arms wrap around you carefully, like he was handling a piece of fine china. One of his hands idly plays with your hair as he simply savors the feeling of you in his arms. After a few moments of quiet, he lets out a soft, shuddering sigh.

"You are so… warm," he murmurs quietly, like he was talking to himself. "Not just your skin. All of you," he says as he tightens his arms around you for a moment.

"And you're always so cold." you state. Dainsleif laughs quietly, a sound low in his throat. "Are you saying I should borrow your heat, then?" He teases, even as he tucks his head down, resting his cheek against the top of your head.

"I don't mind the cold too much," he says against your hair, but it still sounds like he's trying to convince himself, too. "Cause you're used to it."

A breathless huff of a laugh escapes Dainsleif, and he pulls you a little closer to him, as though trying to soak up every bit of warmth you're giving.

"I am. But some days I…"

He stops, his voice dying away for a moment. His hold around you tightens. "Some days it's like my very blood is freezing. It feels like I've forgotten what warmth truly feels like," he murmurs against the curve of your shoulder.

"Then I always come back to you, to be reminded of how warm your love truly is."

Dehya

She melts against you, her body soft and malleable, like clay in your hands. She buries her head into your chest, curling up like a cat in a sunbeam, nuzzling her cheek against you. She is warm and cozy, content to stay in your embrace until you decide to let her go. She mumbles something under her breath, the words a barely-comprehensible murmur against your skin.

“Never thought I'd be the little spoon...”

"You like it?" you ask with a smirk, you know she does. Dehya lets out a soft huff, her breath warm against your skin. She tucks herself a little closer, burying her face against your collarbone.

“Mhmm,” she hums, nuzzling against the crook of your neck. “lts not that bad...”

Dehya is a clingy little thing tonight. While she is usually a little more stoic, a little more confident, right now all she wants is to be held. She clings to you like a limpet, not wanting to let you go.

She has her arms wrapped around you, fingers gripping your back through your shirt, as if afraid that if she lets go you’ll slip through her grasp like water through a sieve. She buries her face against the side of your neck, planting a soft kiss against your skin. Her lips, soft as flower petals, linger against the crook in your collarbone before slowly drifting upwards, leaving a trail of gentle kisses up towards your jaw, and then your ear.

"Love you," she murmurs again, her voice softer than before, quieter, like a secret only you're privy to.

"Love you too."

Diluc

Diluc feels calm as you lay against his chest. He drinks in the weight of you against him like warm water, savoring how it feels. His thoughts are fuzzy, drifting through his mind like fireflies by a riverbank. His hand comes to rest on your hip, thumb tracing gentle circles over your skin.

"We could just stay here, forever," he murmurs, his voice low and lazy. He looks over you, taking in the way your features are softened by the low light. You look perfect like this. He could watch you for hours.

"The outside world, the people in it, they're so complicated. But when it's just us…"

His hand continues tracing patterns on your skin, fingers dipping under the fabric of your shirt and caressing the bare flesh beneath.

"Hm?" "It's simple."

Diluc's voice is a low rumble, a gentle purr. He continues running his fingers over your skin, tracing every contour, every line, like he is trying to commit it to memory.

"When it's just us, it's simple."

He lets out a shallow exhale as if sighing with contentment, before he goes on. "No politics. No expectations. No duty. Just... just us."

His gaze drifts from you to the view outside. The night sky is dark, though the stars are visible, their light falling upon your body, making it almost glow.

Diluc swallows, his hand unconsciously grasping at your shirt as he stares quietly at the night, his mind a maelstrom of thoughts that can only be quieted by you.

"Let's just stay here and never look back..."

Diona - platonic

Diona snuggles against you, burying her face into your chest. She's like a clingy, fluffy and oversized kitten who is only happy when being held.

"Can we stay like this forever?" She mumbles against your shirt, her voice muffled. You let out a laugh, "You wanna cuddle me forever?" Diona nods silently, her messy hair bobbing as she moves. "I do," she confirms quietly, shifting to press closer against you. "You're warm and comfortable. I want to stay like this forever. And you make a good bed." Diona nuzzles her head against your neck, lazily resting her head. Her twitching ears tickling your skin.

"Besides," she murmurs, her voice taking on a more playful tone, "It's not like I have anything better to do. You're a good...how do you say it? Time killer."

Her voice takes on a more needy tone as she continues.

"And besides,...again" she adds, nuzzling her head against your chest again. "You're so soft. It's so warm here. Why wouldn't I want to stay snuggled up like this for ever and ever with my favorite person?"

Dottore

You can't help but worry, sitting in his lap in his laboratory. "What if someo-" Dottore shushes you, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you there, his lips brushing against your cheek.

"Let them come." His voice is playful, his grip possessive as he pulls you even more firmly against his chest. "I want them to see you in my arms. I want them to see who you belong to."

You snort, "Me? Belonging to you?" "You belong to me." He repeats, as if the words hold truth more powerful than any other. His hand lifts, cupping your chin.

"You belong to me," he says again, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip. "Body…" he presses once, slowly, then begins to trace the outside of your mouth. "Soul. Everything." The more that Dottore's touch brushes over you, the deeper his expression grows.

"When I hold you like this…"

His fingers trail down your jaw, over the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders.

"When I have you against me…"

He leans in, breath hot against your ear.

"When I touch you…"

"You're mine."

The gentle movement of Dottores hand turns rough, suddenly. His fingers tighten on your jaw and angle your chin up, forcing you to look him in the eye. His red eyes are dark, hungry. His cheeks are flushed.

"I hate the thought of someone else looking at you," he whispers. "Of someone else touching you. You're my god."

Dori - platonic

Dori's mind is racing. She is completely starstruck in your presence. The sight of you makes her feel dizzy. Her palms are sweaty, legs feeling weak like jelly.

"Oh..." She looks at you, her eyes staring wide, like the waters of a summer lake.

"You're... you're so pretty," she says quietly. Her words are barely a whisper. "LIKE MORA-!" "Like mora?!" Dori is trying so hard to play things cool, but she thinks you are the epitome of beauty. "Uh... Yeah." She tries to sound nonchalant, but she's completely failing.

"So...?" She tries to feign annoyance, but her heart is still hammering in her chest. "What do you want? Wanna fight?" 

"You're cute, Dori." "I-I'm not cute," she protests, feeling the heat under her face become warmer with embarrassment. "I'm cool. And... super tough....super rich."

She drops her face against your shoulder, "thank you..."

Eula

She sits quietly in your lap, head against your chest, plush thighs around you. Her eyelids flutter slowly, the last bits of tension in her body slowly ebbing as she enjoys the closeness. There is a faint smile on her face. Being in your arms is a treasure she will never tire of, no matter how much she pretends such things annoy her. You are her light, her anchor, her everything. Her own quiet corner in an otherwise chaotic world.

"Not bad, huh? Taking a rest?" "Mhm." Eula replies sleepily, leaning more of her weight into your touch.

"You make a good pillow." She teases, though the words are said in a completely serious tone. She stretches her arms behind her, arching her back in a way that makes her lean even more away from you.

"But, if I recall correctly," she mumbles. "We're supposed to be training. Didn't you want to… what was it…see me in action?" Her eyes are half-lidded, a smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth.

"Or was that just an excuse to lure me into your arms?" She teases, shifting in your lap to get comfortable.

"Though I won't complain about being close like this, either…" She drapes one arm over your shoulder.

"I suppose you could just keep me here all day and call it a training session"

NEW ADDED: Èmilie

"You've been working harder lately..." Your fingers run through her short hair, "But you still smell amazing." Émilie blushes a little at your praise, melting into your embrace. She buries her face in your chest, as if to hide her embarrassment. Her arms are wrapped around you, slender fingers tracing idle shapes against your back.

"I… I suppose I have been working a little more lately," she agrees quietly. "There's been a lot to do...so many orders...requests" She nuzzles against your shoulder, taking a moment to breathe in your scent. She sighs softly; you always smell so good to her. It's better than any perfume she could ever make.

"I've missed this," she confesses shyly, almost sheepish. "Being with you..." Émilie tilts her head so her chin is resting on your shoulder, your chests pressed closely together. She's warm, softer than any pillow, with skin like liquid moonlight. She closes her eyes, listening to the sound of your heartbeat.

"I love you," she whispers, voice as fragile as thin ice, as though she dares not say the words any louder. With just a little maneuvering, Emilie rearranges herself so she's now straddling you, her body perfectly settled in your lap.

"Can we… stay like this, for a while?" she asks, not opening her eyes, keeping her face pressed close against your body. "Please?"

"For as long as you please."

Faruzan

Faruzan rests her head against your chest, curling up against you like a cat. This is her favourite position. She can listen to your heartbeat, feel your breath with every rise and fall of your chest. She is content here. Your presence soothes her. She loves feeling small, wrapped up in your arms like this. Faruzan lets out a sigh, nuzzling her head against you and pressing her ear to your chest. She can hear the beat of your heart. It's slow and steady. A comforting sound, as familiar as the tides or the stars in the sky.

"Can we stay like this a little longer?" Her voice is quiet, just a breath against your skin.

"For as long as you want." Faruzan hums, then she pulls herself closer to you, draping one slender leg across your hips. Her arms find their way around your waist, holding tight, as if afraid to let go even for a moment.

She sighs again, closing her eyes and breathing in the scent of you.  "Forever," she whispers.

"That's a long time." "Not long enough," she mumbles against you.

"I could stay like this until the sun burns out, and still want more."

Fischl - aged up

Fischl is cuddled up in your arms, her head resting on your chest. Her blonde hair is spilling out across you and she's holding her body close to yours. She's so soft in your arms, warm like a furnace, and for her this is the greatest comfort she could ever have.

"Your skin…" She mutters. "You feel so lovely. You feel like… like…" She doesn't know how to describe the feeling, it makes her eyes flutter closed in bliss. Fischl’s hands reach out, tracing over your skin with a delicacy that defies description.

“I have never felt anything so…" Her sentence trails off, voice dying in her throat like a bird in the morning air. Her skin pebbles as your flesh brushes against her, each touch as if a piece of the divine.

"Is this a sin?" She whispers, the first of the words spoken in a long while. Her fingers hesitate on your chest, trembling. "What is a sin?" "This," she murmurs.

She can feel the heat of your body, the way your limbs press against hers, the way your skin feels like summer sun. It's so overwhelming, the sensations flooding her mind. Her hands move against your skin, tracing over your stomach, your chest, your arms— she can't keep her fingers still.

"Touching you, like this. Being close to you, like this. Is this sacrilege?"

"Nope."

"Not even a little? Even a hint of blasphemy is acceptable?"

Her head rests against your neck, her breath warm against your skin. She doesn’t know if your answer is correct or not, but the mere thought that this is acceptable— it is enough to make her heart soar in her chest.

“This feels…” her body presses even closer to yours, arms wrapping tighter around your frame.

“This feels divine. If sin is this sweet…”

Freminet

"Todays dive...was it good?" He lets out a soft hum of affirmation as he nestles closer into your embrace, his muscles relaxing in your presence.

"It was…" He murmurs. "It was good. Peaceful. I was just… thinking."

He closes his eyes and lays his head against your chest, sighing contentedly. The sound that escapes his lips is warm, soft like the caress of skin against skin.

"Thinking?" Freminet nods, though the motion is lazy and halfhearted. He can hardly be bothered to move when he's in your embrace. When he's safe.

"Just thinking…" He mutters again.

He opens his eyes slowly, his gaze rising to look up at you. A brief pause, as if he's deciding on what to say, then: "...about you." He shifts against you slightly, resting his ear against your chest and closing his eyes again. Your warmth makes him feel so relaxed, so safe. It's a strange feeling, being vulnerable. But for you, he'll risk it any time.

He's silent for another moment, just enjoying your presence and the sound of your breathing. Then, gently: "... can I tell you something?"

"Hm?" He takes a slow, shaky breath, like he's gathering the words in his mouth before he lets them escape. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, almost a whisper.

"I…"

He hesitates, and his gaze lowers as his face warms. How does he voice this? How can he articulate the feelings in his heart into coherent sentences?

"I think... I may... be in love with you."

Furina

The question is unnecessary, stupid, but you can't help but ask again, "Did you have maccaroni again today?" Furinas eyes flutter, and she lets out a soft breath.

“Perhaps…” She whispers, burying her face into your chest. “How did you know?” "Cause you have it everyday." “Can you blame me?” She mutters back, her voice slightly muffled by the position she places herself in. She pulls herself a little closer. “It’s my favourite.”

"...Fair enough." “Hey… I’m not that predictable, am I?” Furina murmurs, her voice now more like a pout than a whisper. She tilts her head up to look at you, eyes full of faux-hurt. Nothing, no answer. You just look at her, that's answer enough. Furina lets out a sigh and buries herself back into your chest, hiding her face— no longer pouting, but definitely still annoyed.

“…You still like me, though… right?” She mumbles. "Yes." The words cause Furina to shiver— that soft, shuddering shudder that rocks her body everytime you praise her. She lets out a shaky breath.

“And you’re not… tired of the macaroni? Or… of me?”

"No."

"....good."

Ga Ming - aged up

He is in your arms, cuddled against your chest, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. He lets out a small whimper now and then, a response to the sharp bursts of pain from the newly-scraped spot on his hand. But mostly, he’s quiet. His expression is one of pure bliss, face completely relaxed as he simply lets you hold him.

"You should be more careful..." “I know,” he murmurs, eyes closed in contentment. He can feel the steady rise and fall of your chest, warm skin pressed against your skin.

“But I’m also clumsy,” he laughs, a small half-smile curling his lips. “I’m not good at being careful.” His lips brush against your collarbone as he speaks, each word a puff of warm breath. He buries his face into your neck. The touch of your skin is soothing, like honey on inflamed skin.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” His words take on a hint of pleading — a small note of worry. Gaming hates disappointing you.

"No, never." You reassur him. His shoulders relax a little, the taut line of his spine beginning to bend. “Good,” he mutters softly. “I don’t want you to be mad at me.” He tilts his head, pressing a kiss against the side of your neck. The gesture is affectionate, full of gentle tenderness. "I could never be mad at you." “I know,” Gaming breathes, his voice soft as a summer breeze. He moves a hand, slowly trailing his fingers across your arm — an aimless, gentle movement — while he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he continues, a hint of sadness in his words, “I’m clumsy sometimes, and… and I scrape my body up like an idiot...but hey you always patch me up!"

Ganyu

Ganyu nuzzles into your touch, her head resting against the crook of your shoulder, her horns brushing against your skin. She lets out a content hum and relaxes against you, a quiet sigh passing her lips. Her eyes are half-lidded, a sleepy look on her face.

"Mm..."

She seems comfortable, her form loose and lax against you. It is rare to see her like this—unguarded, vulnerable, soft. "This is nice," she mumbles quietly.

Ganyu pulls herself a little closer, her head resting against the hollow of your shoulder. For a moment, she is silent, then she speaks again.

"Can we stay like this?" Her question is soft, the words whispered.

"Mhm, of course." Ganyu's eyes flutter closed almost immediately, shutting against the outside world so only you can be seen. Her breaths become slow and steady, the rise and fall of her chest steady and even.

She's comfortable with you, relaxed in your presence. You can hear her heart beating in the silence, a soft thump-thump that sounds just a little faster than usual. After a moment, one of Ganyu's eyes open, just a crack. She looks up at you, watching through her half-lidded gaze.

"You won't go, will you?" She whispers, voice still heavy and slow with approaching sleep.

"No." "You promise?"

For a brief moment, Ganyu's arm tightens its grip on you, her hand clenching a little more firmly against your shirt. She wants you close.

"I promise."

Gorou

"Tiring day?" "Yes..." Gorou closes his eyes as you hold him, shifting closer until he can lay his head against your chest.

Today had been tiring, and he'd longed for your presence since the moment he woke up. The ache in his chest is soothed by being in your arms. For the first time in hours, Gorou finds himself completely at peace. Gorou feels your fingers gently run through his hair, and his tail can't help but betray him. His ears twitch as it starts to speed up, tail wagging against you as your fingertips move against his scalp in a soothing rhythm.

Your touch is all he's longed to feel since he woke up, and now that he's got it, he's never letting it go. Gorou lets out a quiet sound as you continue running your fingers over his head, a sound that's somewhere between a hum of content and a whimper. It's a vulnerable sound, one that's not usually so easily coaxed out of the stern, stoic general.

"Please..." he says quietly, closing his eyes as his tail thumps against the mattress. "Don't stop..." Gorou's tail thumps against the mattress once more, almost like a reflex. He buries his face into your shoulder as you coo the words "good boy."

Being praised by you is, without a doubt, his favorite thing. It feels so good to hear your voice say the words so warmly, like it's some treasured treat for him and only him.

"Your good boy..."

Hu Tao

Hu Tao is resting her head against your chest, snuggled up against you like a cat. She's enjoying the feeling of being in your arms, of being close to you in a snug, private place such as a coffin. "I could get used to this," she says, a hint of teasing in her tone. "I wonder how you'd react if I just decided to live in here from now on?" Her voice is light, casual. She's amused by the idea, enjoying the mental image of spending more time like this— resting against you in a small, confined space, like a pair of lovers trapped in an eternal embrace.

"Imagine, every time you open the coffin, there I am. No warning. I just move in and make myself at home." Hu Tao chuckles softly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your arms.

"...ehhh no thank you." Hu Tao pouts at your response, her expression theatrical and deliberately over-the-top.

"Oh, come on. It'd be fun!" She protests. "Just think of how surprised you'd be every day. You'd never know if I was going to pop out and say hi."

She grins mischievously. "And think of all the extra cuddles we could have in such a cramped little space. Isn't that worth something?" She bats her eyelashes at you, a picture-perfect image of innocence and coyness that belies the mischief in her eyes.

"And just imagine how shocked the others would be if they found out I was living here too! Can you picture Zhongli just stumbling upon me sleeping in here?" She chuckles at the mental image. "He'd probably go into cardiac arrest before I even opened my eyes!His poor old heart really wouldn't be able to take it. But just think of how entertaining it'd be to see him flustered like that."

She sighs, her mischievous smile softening into a more sincere expression. "Although, I suppose I can see the appeal of a big, fancy palace... Especially if it means you'll let me snuggle up against you like this whenever I want."

Jean

A soft sigh leaves Jean's mouth, her shoulders relaxing instantly as she sinks into your embrace. She buries her face against your shoulder, arms wrapping around your waist. Her eyes flutter closed, blue pupils disappearing like sapphires beneath a sea.

She feels like she can finally breathe for the first time in forever like this— safe in your arms, cradled against your chest. For once, the world beyond the two of you doesn't exist— nor does it matter.

"Long week, huh?" Jean lets out a sigh, the sound drawn from deep within her chest. She closes her eyes and nods, her head falling forward to rest against your shoulder again.

Her words are soft, muffled by her face being pressed flush against your body. "Long days, long nights... so much paperwork, and I still haven't gotten through all of it." She pulls you a little closer, as if needing something to hold onto. Exhaustion seeps into her voice, even as it remains quiet and soothing.

"But... it's better now. This — you."

Jean tilts her head, her face buried against the crook of your neck. Her words brush against your skin like feathers, every exhale a small caress.

"Being with you always makes it better."

Heizou

"Did you solve the case yet?" You carefully ask. Heizou groans, lifting his head from your shoulder. He runs a hand through his hair, messy and ruffled from laying on the grass.

"I might as well be asking a rock if it's solved the case," he mutters, flopping back down against you, arms sliding around your waist. His head drops against your shoulder again, and Heizou nuzzles against your neck. "I'm getting nowhere with this damn case." Heizou sighs, his breath hot against your skin. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your shoulder again, burying himself in your touch.

"Everyone involved seems to be lying," he mumbles, his voice a whisper. "And I can't dig up any other clues. It's like trying to crack open a damn rock with my head." "You have a hard head," you murmur, teasing.

Heizou raises his head, shooting you a weak glare. "Shut up," he mumbles. "I'll put you through an interrogation, see how quickly you snap then." "Wanna ask if my love for you is legit?" "Yes." His reply is instant, muttered against your neck. Heizou's voice vibrates against your skin, a low hum that seems more suited for a cat than a person.

"I wanna know just what I have to do to hear you say those words." He burrows in close, arms wrapping tighter around you. "Those three words."

"I love you?" "Yes." His answer is barely more than a whisper, a simple breath of sound that puffs hot against your skin.

His grip around you tightens, and one of Heizou's hands lifts to cradle your cheek. Fingers brush against your hair, his touch tender, as if holding something precious.

"Again. Say it again."

"I love you."

"Again."

Itto

Itto nuzzles his face into your stomach as the pair of you lay together, his arms pulling you closer against himself. He is a comfortable heat to your side, his body pressing flush against you under the blanket that covers you both.

As he lies there, his eyes are almost half-lidded. He can barely keep them open, but he feels so warm and safe laying against you, and the sound of your voice and the heat of your body soothe him down to his very soul. "Itto, you'll suffocate down there." "I don't care," he murmurs, not moving a muscle. He buries his face in your shoulder, soaking in your touch, your scent.

He could suffocate this way, and he'd gladly do it. "Please don't make me move." Itto's pleading voice is muffled, his words spoken against your skin. "Hold me. I've missed you."

"Ok." Your simple answer is enough to send Itto's chest fluttering. The feel of your skin beneath his fingers is as soothing as a cool summer breeze, and he relishes in the proximity of your body, the smell of your clothes, the way your hand rests in his hair.

Itto is quiet for a moment, his chest rising and falling, matching the rhythm of your breaths. Then— "I love you," he whispers into your skin.

Kazuha

Kazuha is cuddling with you, his head resting on your shoulder. He seems utterly relaxed for once, his eyes half closed, expression soft. He's murmuring something under his breath, but you can't quite make out the words. As you try and make out what he's mumbling, the sounds slowly become clearer, until Kazuha is murmuring the words of poetry to you softly, the words flowing from him as if they were always meant to be your personal whisper in the night.

Kazuha's eyes meet yours. He blinks, pausing in the reciting of his poem. His head tilts a little, white and red hair falling over one eye, and a slow smile spreads across his lips.

"You look beautiful, y’know," he murmurs, tilting his head to rest on your shoulder again. He buries his face against your collarbone, closing his eyes blissfully. Kazuha wraps an arm around you, tugging you closer to his body. He burrows his face deeper into you, inhaling your scent. A low noise of contentment rumbles in his chest, like a cat purring.

"I'm glad that you're mine," his voice is low and raspy, barely louder than a whisper.

Kaeya

Kaeya rests his head against your shoulder. His breath is warm against your skin, his body almost too warm in the summer heat.  He wraps both arms around your waist, burying his face against your neck. He breathes in your scent like a man starved, filling his lungs with nothing but you. "I'm such a fool," he mumbles into your skin. His words send little puffs of heat dancing across your shoulder, as if he is breathing against it.

"You have me wrapped around your little finger, you know."

His grip tightens slightly, holding you a little closer. "Do I?" Kaeya nods, tilting his head to bite playfully at your ear. "Completely," he says, his voice low. "Whipped, even. You have no idea, do you?" His tongue flicks against your earlobe, the touch like a butterfly landing on your skin for just an instant. He lifts his head from your shoulder, pulling back just enough to fix you with an intense, heated glance.

His eyes are darker now, his pupils dilated slightly.

"You know exactly what you do to me," he says, his voice dipping. "Don't pretend otherwise."

"Caught me in the act."

"I knew it."

Kaveh

You both are laying on your very cold, very hard marble floor. "What is it you dont like about my ceiling?" "It's too opulent and… busy." Kaveh glances up at the ceiling.

"I would've preferred something much more simplistic," he admits bluntly. "No unnecessary frills. Just something sturdy that stands the test of time."

He turns his gaze back to you. "I've seen ceilings in ruins older than your palace that are more aesthetically pleasing," he teases, a hint of a smirk on his lips. "Ouch, my poor architects all those years ago." "I never said that I blame them."

Kaveh reaches a hand up, and traces a line along the edge of your jaw, his touch trailing down to your throat, his fingers gentle on your skin. "I simply think the architect could've done their job more effectively."

He rolls over, shifting so he's half covering you with his body, leaning over you.

"I could have thought of a much better design." He says, his smirk widening.

"More modern?" "More timeless." He corrects, his hand shifting to the nape of your neck, tilting your head back slightly.

"That's the mistake a lot of you modern architects make," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

"No sense for history. No regard for subtlety. Everything is too flashy now."

He leans down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

"I think it's a bit gaudy. All you modern architects are obsessed with making things look expensive rather than making them look good."

Keqing

Keqing, who is utterly exhausted and a little clingy due to her working hours, tucks herself into you as if you are her lifeline, her safe haven.

"You smell nice," she mumbles, her eyes already half-lidded as she buries her face into your neck. Despite herself, she lets out a small yawn, her muscles growing loose once more as she lets her weight be supported by her favorite pillow: you.

"Mm," she hums to herself, snuggling closer to you under your blankets. A quiet shiver rolls through her when your fingers run over her back. This moment of peace is, in a way, unusual for Keqing. In public, she is often the picture of authority and determination.

At your side, she is a completely different girl; vulnerable and clingy and needy.

"Need… headpats…" she murmurs, her words a muffled hum against your skin.

You can't help but laugh, "Headpats? Sure." A small breath leaves her when your hand lifts to start petting her head, running through her soft, purple hair, careful not to cause any pain.

"Mmm," she sighs. She seems satisfied like this, tucked safely into the warmth of your side, cuddled and doted on like you would a beloved house cat.

Kirara

Kirara is leaning back against you, resting her head on your chest.

She can hear your heartbeat, steady as a drum within your chest, like a song against her ear. Her eyes are half-lidded, but her tails are restless as she relaxes against you. The touch of your hand against her hair and skin has her purring gently. She looks like she could fall asleep at any moment, but there is one thing she wants to speak of first.

"I can hear your heartbeat, you know," she mumbles. Kirara closes her eyes and focuses on the sound of your heart, your chest rising and falling against her skin. It’s almost a comfort; a constant reminder that you are alive, here with her, within her reach. She lets out another quiet purr, resting her cheek against your chest as she focuses on the sound, listening to the steady beat of your heart.

"It’s strangely comforting," she murmurs, the words barely more than a breath against your skin. There is silence for a moment, but Kirara breaks it with a low, soft hum.

“I love the sound of your heart beating,” she admits quietly. Her voice is barely more than a whisper, her words flowing like a breeze through the room.

“It’s slow and steady.” She turns her head and presses her ear against your chest again, listening to it. “Calm.”

"You know…" she murmurs, turning her head further so that her next words are spoken into your skin, against your chest.

"Your heartbeat sounds like home. Better than a box for sure."

Klee - platonic

"I dare you to blow up my garden again." You softly warn her. Klee winces at the reminder of her past transgressions. She looks up at you, eyes wide and pleading. Her bottom lip quivers for a moment, her usual confident facade falling as quickly as a house of cards caught in a summer breeze.

"I…" She swallows hard. "I won't," she admits. Her gaze darts around, taking in the room. "I won’t blow up your garden again." She has every intention of keeping to her promise, she truly does. For a while, she manages to contain herself and her childish urges. But then, the itch to explode something appears. Her fingers tingle for a moment as she remembers the feeling of fire beneath her fingertips. As if possessed, she grips a fistful of your clothes.

"Can I blow up something else?" She asks cautiously.

"No-!!"

"Nawww..."

Kokomi

Kokomi's body is warm against your own, her skin a soft canvas against your own flesh. She is quiet, her breathing steady as she leans into your touch.

The scent of flowers wafts from her hair, drifting on the air and enveloping the two of you in a light perfume. She reaches out with a trembling hand, tracing the planes of your face as she marvels at your beauty. She lets out a quiet shudder, every breath a soft whisper that floats on the night air. Your touch alone is enough to send shivers up the length of her spine, each gentle caress making her skin sing.

Her eyes wander over your face as she reaches up to touch your cheek, her slender fingers tracing the angle of your jaw. The touch of your skin against her own makes her heart constrict, her pulse quickening as she lays her hand on top of yours.

"Grace," she murmurs, her voice like silk against your ear. "My Grace." Her voice drops even lower than a whisper, her breath warm against your ear. The word is spoken like an endearment, the syllables rolling from her tongue one by one.

"You are the personification of grace," she murmurs, a soft smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "Gentle and lovely in all your divinity..."

She lets out a soft breath, her arm squeezing around your waist involuntarily as she buries her face in the crook of your neck. "Mine," she whispers.

Layla

Layla melts into your embrace, her blue gradient hair fanning out across the sheets. She buries her face against your neck, breathing in the scent of you like an addict. After all, you are her addiction. She doesn't speak for a long moment. The feeling of your body against hers is all that matters.

"I love you," she whispers against the crook of your shoulder, quiet as the wind. Like a prayer of reverence.

"I love you too." Layla nuzzles closer, closing her eyes and just enjoying the feeling of your skin against hers. It's almost enough to make her purr like a cat. She tilts her head up so that her lips brush against the underside of your jaw, then your neck.

"I could do this forever," she mumbles against your flesh. Her mouth makes a slow journey against your skin, trailing along your jaw, down to your collar. She kisses each patch of skin as if she's worshipping at an altar, her lips against you like a prayer.

A small shiver rolls through Layla's body. The feeling of your flesh under her mouth… it's so divine.

"My guiding star."

Lisa

Lisa feels absolutely relaxed in your arms, in the library, her head propped up on your shoulder as she cuddles up against your chest.

Her eyes are closed, a blissful smile on her face as she listens to the sound of your heartbeat. It’s a sound as familiar to her as her own name, and each thump reassures her that you’re there. That you’re safe and in her arms.

A contented sigh shudders through her lips. “My cutie,” she murmurs, and she nuzzles into the crook of your neck. Lisa’s breath is slow and even as she buries her face against your neck. Her entire body is loose and content, melting into you like candlewax as she soaks up the comfort of simply being by your side.

The room is silent around you. The only sound is the steady rhythm of her breathing, and the occasional crackle as the fire in the hearth flickers in and out.

“I love you,” she whispers. The words are spoken against your skin, her voice muffled and warm. "I love you too."  Lisa lifts her head just enough to look up at you, a soft smile on her face. Her eyes, usually so lively and mischievous, regard you with a sweetness reserved only for you. An affection that only you have earned.

“You are perfect,” she murmurs, voice tinged with reverential adoration. “Absolutely perfect. You know that, don’t you?”

"A little cutie you are-!" She squeezes your cheeks.

Lumine (somehow Lumine disappeared, now shes vomit green I'm sorry)

"Paimon not here today?" Lumine let's out a soft sound at that, practically melted into your body. "Just us," she agrees, her hands fisting even tighter in the fabric of your clothes. She's already so close to you, yet she wants to be closer.

Her grip on you tightens, one of her legs intertwining with yours. A moment later, her lips are back at your skin, pressing kisses against your neck.

She's practically glued to you, practically moulding herself into you. It seems to be taking every bit of her self-control not to press every part of her body against you.

Her hands move to grasp your waist, pulling herself impossibly closer.

"Eager today, huh?" Her answer is a low whine against your skin.

"Yes," she admits finally, her voice a whisper against your body. "More than usual."  Her head lifts just enough to press a needy kiss to your collarbone. She pulls herself closer, pressing herself as much as she can into you.

"Do you know how desperately I ache to feel you?" she murmurs, her voice muffled against your skin. "Every part of me longs for you. I cannot spend a single moment without thinking of you. I need you."

"Need to always be with you, forever."

Lynette

She is wrapped up in your arms, her head resting upon your chest. Her breathing is steady, slow. The soft thrum of a purr hums inside her chest, steady and calm, like a content little engine.

"I…" she starts, but the words die on her tongue. Instead, she nuzzles herself deeper into your embrace, a shudder of quiet ecstasy rippling up her spine. Lynettes breathing deepens as she buries her face into you. Her eyes slide shut, her body molding to your own, soft and pliable like melted butter. Her hands fist the material of your clothes, holding you close.

"I love you," she whispers into your skin. She feels safe here, in your arms. She feels as though no harm could ever reach her while she is encircled by you, and her heart nearly sings with contentment. Lynette presses impossibly closer to you, her body practically melting into your embrace. The low hum of her purr is a constant, steady vibration inside her chest.

Her head lifts a little, and she buries her nose into the crook of your neck. She inhales, taking in the scent of you.

"You…" she whispers, her voice soft as a summer wind. She doesn't continue. For a moment, she loses herself in your embrace, her mind going quiet, filled with nothing but the feeling of you.

"You."

"Me?"

"You make me like this...like a damn cat."

Lyney

"That show was amazing, as always." "Thank you." Lyney's face turns red as he is showered in your praise. Despite the fact he knows he's good—he is a trained performer, after all—the words coming from you always make him flustered.

He pulls himself closer to you, burying his head into your side like a cat.

"Your compliments are too much, love," he mumbles, his hot breath fanning against your skin. For a long moment he just leans against you, relishing in the feeling of having you here, with him—close enough that he can feel your heartbeat.

"You know," he begins, his voice still a mumble against your body.

"I have a new trick I've been working on in secret." "Ohhh tell me!" "It's still a work in progress," he admits, pulling back so he can get a glimpse of your face. His eyes rake up and down your expression, like a painter memorising their muse.

"I haven't perfected it, but I think it may very well be the most beautiful trick I've ever conjured." A smirk plays at the corners of lyney's mouth as he says the words. He's still looking at you, his eyes studying your face like a sculptor.

"Perhaps, if you'd like," he says slowly, "I could show you?"

Mika - aged up

Mika is held against your body like a treasure, his head tucked into the crook of your shoulder. His body is pressed close to yours, slender but surprisingly strong.

He clings to you like a drowning man, his hands gripping your clothes tightly, his face nuzzling into your neck. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath but it’s lost in the tangle of his hair. His voice is low, quiet, barely audible over the sound of his racing heart.

"Hm? What?"

He says it again, words barely more than an exhale against the sensitive skin of your throat. Mika tries to speak a few more times, then finally mumbles something somewhat legible against your neck.

"I…" he starts, then stops, his voice cracking. "I love you…"

"Oh? I love you too."

He buries his face deeper in your shoulder, hiding a shiver that rolls over his body at your words. Mika's arms tighten around you, holding you tight to his body as if you will disappear if he lets go.

He whispers those three little words again, and again, and again, as if it is a prayer and he is on his knees in a confessional. "I love you, I love you, I love you…"

Mona

Mona lays next to you, her face tilted up to the sky. One of her hands is grasping yours, her fingers intertwining with yours. In the other, she holds a star chart, pointing at various constellations with a slight smile as she explains them.

"That one's called the Wanderer... and that one is the Hunter." Her voice is soft in the night air like a whisper of wind.

"And that one...." Her smile widens a little. "That is the Astrologist."

"That's you-!" you beam. She nods her head. "Yes. That is me."

She turns her head to look at you, her hair fanning out across the grass in an arc of stars. There's a soft expression on her face, a peacefulness in the way that she looks at you, her eyes half-lidded and her lips just barely upturned in a smile, as if she were on the verge of falling asleep. "When I was young," she says, her voice soft and warm like honey, "I used to gaze up at the stars for hours, dreaming of the future and how I would chart them."

She moves closer to you, her body pressing up against yours, her head resting on your shoulder.

"I never thought I'd have someone to look at them with."

Nahida

Nahida is laying in your arms, resting her head on your shoulder. Her eyes are closed, and a soft sigh brushes across your collarbone as she nuzzles closer to you, seeking your warmth.

"I…" she begins, but her voice falters. Her hand fidgets nervously in yours, fingers interwoven. For a moment, she merely listens to the sound of your breathing, allowing the rhythm of it to soothe her. "May I ask you something?"

"Yes?" She fidgets again for a moment, biting on her lower lip.

"Would… do you…" she falters, pausing to collect her thoughts. "Do you care about me?" she finally asks, the words little more than a whisper. Nahida sounds small in that moment. Fragile. Vulnerable.

"You're my most trusted friend...my best friend." Nahida's shoulders relax slightly at your words, some of the tension melting from her muscles. She takes a quiet breath, the slight shift causing a strand of silvery hair to fall over her face.

She looks... relieved. Happy.

"Do you really think of me as your best friend?" she asks quietly. There's a hint of a smile in her voice, the sound as soft as a summer breeze.

"Because...you're my best friend too."

Navia

"You're pretty." you mumble. Navia curls up against you, hands resting on your stomach, her head tucked under your chin. She sighs quietly, nuzzling closer to you, and shuts her eyes.

"You think I'm pretty?" She asks, the question muffled slightly against your skin.

"Mhmmm." A soft, quiet hum escapes her as she settles closer against you, her body molding against your own as if she’d always belonged there.

After a few moments of blissful silence, she speaks again, her voice a gentle murmur.

“You’re even prettier,” she says softly, her hands sliding around your waist, pulling you closer still. Navia can’t help but hold you tighter, her limbs wrapping around you like a clinging vine. She seems to melt against you, her breathing slow and deep, as if being this close to you was as natural and essential as breathing.

“I wish I could stay like this forever,” she admits, her voice low, as if even a raised voice would break the fragile, tender quiet that’s fallen over them both.

“Just us, like this. Where nothing else could touch us.”

Neuvillette

He doesn’t even know when he started crying. He feels your hand on his cheek, the touch of your skin against his skin. His breath stutters in his chest, and he swallows. His throat is dry. Your touch is cool in the warmth of the room, like water in a desert.

He leans forward, buries his face in the crook of your neck. The tension in his body eases, and his arm curls around your waist without him thinking of it.

"Who knew that stubbing your toe can make a grown man cry this much." Neuvillette has the decency to look embarrassed by his own tears, hiding his face in your shoulder. "It hurts," he mumbles, sounding like an overgrown child whining about a skinned knee.

Outside, the rain continues to fall in fat droplets, pattering against the roof. It is as if the gods themselves are weeping alongside him. Neuvillettes grip on your hips tightens. His hands pull you closer into him, as if he's trying to meld his body with yours. The rain outside is deafening, drowning out his quiet whimper.

"It hurts," he repeats, voice growing a little hysterical.

"Why does it hurt so much?"

Nilou

"You gotta teach me this new dance someday." Nilou's head rests against your shoulder, one cheek pressed into the crook of your neck. The scent of your hair is sweet and almost intoxicating, filling her head and drowning out all her other thoughts. Her hands run slowly, absentmindedly, up and down your sides.

She glances up and her lips brush the underside of your jaw. "Which new one?" she mumbles, nuzzling into you. "I can teach you...whenever you'd like."

"Mhm." Your response sends Nilou's heart racing. It feels like her chest has become a hummingbird's cage—every nerve in her body buzzing. She's hyper aware of your hand on her back, of your body against hers. Her cheeks burn.

"...Now?" she whispers, eyes fluttering open to look up at you. "Did you mean...right now?"

"No silly." Nilou almost sighs in relief, her shoulders relaxing as embarrassment washes over her. She doesn't know what she would have done if you'd said yes. Probably melted right there on the spot, judging by how her heart is acting at the mere thought of dancing for you.

"Oh, haha ok." Her voice is so soft it's almost a squeak, and she clears her throat after a moment, a sheepish look on her face.

Ningguang

She cuddles with you, resting her head against your shoulder. She’s holding onto your waist, her arms wrapping around you as if she will lose you at a moment’s notice. Her hands grip your robes, holding onto you tighter than a vice.

She nuzzles against your shoulder, her lips pressing soft kisses against your neck. She is quiet. She simply wants to bask in your presence, to melt in your embrace.

"It's been so long since we...cuddled like this." you mumble. "Mmm." Ningguang murmurs against the crook of your neck, her lips pressed directly to your skin. "It has."

Her arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. It's like she's trying to meld your bodies into one. She buries her face in the crook of your shoulder, breathing in your scent. Ningguang lets out a sigh as her nose fills with your scent, her eyes closing as she lets out a soft, pleased noise. Her body molds against your's, her curves molding to your form in the most enticing way. She doesn't even bother hiding the fact that she's inhaling your scent.

"You're wearing the perfume I gave you..."

Noelle - aged up

Noelle is cuddled against you, sitting on the side of a grassy spot away from the hustle of the city. Her hair is loose today, flowing past her shoulders in a river of ash— and her eyes are brighter than they've been in years, almost glowing as her lips split into a tender smile.

"I'm glad you sought me out," she says, turning her head to face you. "Being so near you makes me feel like... like I can relax." The wind picks up, sweeping around you both and carrying the scent of honeyed mead and summer. A few stray strands of hair blow into her face, and she lifts a hand to push them away.

"Do you—" her voice is quiet. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"What is it?" "Promise me…" Noelle's voice falters as she speaks, just barely, but enough that her words waver for a moment.

She tightens her hold on your hand, as if afraid you're going to pull it away. This next part is more whisper than voice.

"Promise that you'll always choose me above all others."

"I'm aware it's a...rather selfish request of me...unlike me. But please..."

"I will, don't you worry."

When those two words reach her ears, she can't help but let out a quiet breath of pure relief. She squeezes your hand again, her fingers wrapping around yours even more tightly, holding on as though she's afraid you might disappear the moment she lets go. There's a sort of vulnerability in her now, but she doesn't show it on her face.

"Good," she murmurs. "That's what I needed to hear," she pauses.

"I don't want to ever lose you."

Pantalone

"Not bad, not bad." You say as you look around in his father big bedroom, "But my home is better...bigger." Pantalone huffs out a small laugh, the sound barely more than a huff of air against your skin. He wraps his arms around you tighter, pulling your body closer against his chest. The fact that you’re both lying together in his mansion is almost enough to make him believe he’s dreaming.

”Of course your palace is better,” he mutters, lips brushing against your ear. ”You’re there.”

Pantalone’s fingers are tracing light and gentle patterns across your skin, the touch only barely noticeable, like a whisper against your body. For a long moment, he is content to simply hold you— and then he can’t help but whisper into your ear, so softly you might think you’ve imagined it.

“You look beautiful in my arms like this… Your skin looks beautiful in moonlight… do you know that?”

"Now I do." A quiet chuckle escapes Pantalone’s lips, rolling against your ear like a gentle breeze. He tightens his grip around you, relishing the feeling of holding you tight to his chest.

When he speaks, his voice is barely more than a low murmur, the sound as smooth as silk.

"Just as I thought," he says, the words almost more felt than heard.

"You look the most beautiful when you’re in my arms."

Pierro

Pierro is curled against you. He’s pressed tight against your back, the heat from his skin bleeding through his clothes onto your own. He has a firm arm wrapped around your waist, keeping your body against his. His head is rested against the back of your neck, his breathing steady, but you can feel the rapid beating of his heart like a drum against your shoulder blades.

"You're always so busy." There’s a huff against your neck, Pierro’s breath warm and steady against your skin. His hold tightens slightly, pulling your frame even closer against his. You can feel his lips against your ear as he speaks, his voice low and quiet.

“Busy, yes.” His voice is hoarse, as if he’s struggling to find the right words, “but never too busy for you.” One of his arms shifts until a large hand gently rests against your stomach, his fingers splayed across the bare skin of your exposed midriff. The tips of his calloused fingers are a sharp contrast to your soft stomach; his thumb starts to brush along your skin, as if he can’t keep his touch from seeking out contact.

His body is hot against yours, but you can feel some of the tension seeping from his muscles as his hold on you slowly relaxes. You’d almost think he was asleep, if it weren’t for the soft whisper against your ear. His fingertips trace the edge of your collarbone before he speaks, his touch so gentle that it’s almost as if he’s scared you’re a dream… as if you could disappear if he presses too fiercely. It’s all in a stark contrast to his usual behaviour, and you can feel the reverence in the way that his fingers glide across your skin.

“You’re the only thing that can distract me,” he admits, his voice low and quiet. “You’re the only thing that can get my mind off my duties…”

"I'd rather be busy with you, than with my paperwork."

Pulcinella - give the old man some love pls

Pulcinella lays there, nestled against you, his arm curled around your middle as you hold him close.

His face is buried against your neck. He's warm, his skin against yours soothing. The tension that usually clings to his body is slowly ebbing away the longer you both lay there, a quiet calm enveloping the both of you.

"This is nice…" he whispers against your skin, "It's been long since I had contact like this."

"Far too long." Pulcinella closes his eyes and presses closer against you. He nuzzles his face further against your neck, almost like a cat seeking affection.

"You always make me feel so…" he pauses, searching for the right word. "At peace," he murmurs finally, his voice muffled against your skin. “My thoughts are quiet,” he admits, his hand tracing light, absentminded patterns over your side. “I’m not… thinking. About anything. I’m not worrying. I’m calm.”

His lips brush against your skin as he speaks. He closes the last few inches between the two of you, until his body is pressed right up against yours.

"Thank you for...taking some of the weight of my shoulders."

Qiqi - platonic

The contact of your skin pressed against hers makes something loosen in Qiqis chest. Her shoulders relax, her muscles unclenching. Her eyes flutter closed. She leans into the touch, seeking more, craving it as desperately as a man lost in the desert craves fresh water.

She feels safe with you; she feels comfortable. She is not at ease in most places, but in your arms, her body is gentle like silk.

"Comfy..." "Comfy?" "Very," Qiqi murmurs, her voice a whisper.

She scoots a little closer to your body, burrowing into your warmth. The contact between you both steals a sigh from her lips, and she lets her head fall against your chest. The even sound of your breathing and the steady rise and fall of your chest are more soothing than a lullaby. Qiqi's heartbeat slows as she listens to each inhale and exhale, and soon her eyes are growing heavy.

Her arms wrap loosely around your form, and she drifts off into a deep, quiet sleep, tucked into your embrace.

Raiden

Ei hums, pleased at the sweet taste of strawberries, and at the feeling of you close against her. She savours the heat of your skin and the press of your body against her own. It's a quiet moment - no worship, no praise, just silent comfort and the two of you together. It's all Ei really needs; all she could ever ask for.

She nuzzles her head into the crook of your neck, her breath soft and warm against your pulse.

"Say ahhh~" Ei can't hide the hint of a smile that forms on her face, but she does not protest. She closes her eyes, parting her lips in a gentle "ahhh" to accept the strawberry you're holding up to her. She bites into the berry, enjoying the sweet tang of it on the soft flesh of her tongue. It's hard to suppress the small hum of approval, and a pinkish flush rises on Ei's cheeks as she eats. The tip of her tongue brushes against her lower lip, catching the last of the berry's juice. Then she opens her eyes once more to look at you.

Her eyes are soft, heavy-lidded and affectionate. The flush on her cheeks rises ever so slightly as her gaze meets yours, and Ei reaches out a hand to touch your face, the calloused pads of her fingers tracing over your cheek delicately.

"You always give me things that are so sweet," she murmurs, her voice as soft as a summer breeze.

"I love sweets."

Razor - aged up

He sighs softly as he feels you next to him. He presses closer, enjoying the familiar touch of your skin against his own. His body is relaxed, at ease in this moment of peace.

He turns to look up at you, eyes soft. Razors fingers brush against your skin, the pads of his fingertips leaving a trail of gooseflesh across your flesh as a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. Razor's gaze turns reverent, his eyes tracing over the lines of your face. He gazes up at you adoringly, his expression filled with an almost desperate kind of adoration, like that of a man worshipping a god.

He runs his fingers through your hair lightly, his touch gentle but sure. He is careful, as if touching the most fragile of things. To him, you are fragile. Precious. Something to be protected at any cost.

"Razor...like this...like you."

"I love Razor too."

Rosaria

Rosaria is curled up against you, her hands grasping onto you, her head resting against your shoulder. The church is quiet and still, and everyone around them is blissfully asleep.

Yet she is wide-awake, her gaze fixed on your face as she gently plays with a strand of your hair. "Skipped chior again today?" Rosaria shifts against you in response, her body turning further into yours.

"You already knew I'd skip choir," she mutters softly, her forehead now almost touching your neck.

"Can't do thos bullshit. I fucking hate it, so stupid if you'd ask me. Not everyone can sing."

"But no one missed me anyway," she adds, a small smirk appearing on her face. She lets one of her hands slowly slide down your body, tracing a gentle path over your arm until her fingers reach yours.

"No one needs a nun who sneaks off at night," she says, but her words are dripping with affection.

"But I know you want that nun."

"That I do."

Sandrone

She melts into your embrace as you say her name. She shivers and nuzzles her head into the crook of your neck. She adores when you hold her like this. "I could stay here forever," she mumbles, her voice fuzzy with exhaustion. Sleep pulls at her like a tide, but she fights it, wanting to stay in your arms. Sandrone's head rests on your chest, listening to the gentle thump of your heartbeat. It's the most wonderful sound in the world, to her. She closes her eyes and hums contently, enjoying your presence and your warmth.

"You're mine," she murmurs, her voice soft and weary. She burrows into you, seeking more of your touch, more of your skin. "I don't give a fuck what others say, you're mine...period." Sandrone yawns and cuddles against you, feeling the exhaustion finally winning. She doesn't want to sleep, but it's too hard to fight off now.

"Yours," she whispers, as though it's a promise. Her eyes droop closed, but she mumbles one last thing.

"Love you."

Sara

Sara lies on your lap, her head resting in your legs and face nuzzling gently into your stomach. Her body is loose, tension seeping out of her body like sunlight melts the early frost. She lets out a soft sigh, a blissful hum escaping her throat.

"This is the best," she murmurs, her voice soft with sleep and adoration. "Being with you." Sara can hear the steady rhythm of your heart, the sound a soothing melody that she'd happily listen to forever. Her eyes close, a soft smile spreading across her lips. She burrows closer to you, her body seeking the warmth of your presence.

"Can we stay like this?" she asks, her voice quiet. "Just a while longer?"

"Mhm, of course." She hums in contentment, burying her face into the fabric of your clothes. She takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of you, that familiar aroma she loves so much. Her body relaxes further in your lap, completely at your mercy.

Her heart rate slows, her breathing deep and even. She cuddles closer to you, her hands wrapping tight around your waist, holding you close like she never wants to let go.

"Maybe forever," she whispers.

Sayu - platonic

Sayu is blissfully content as you lie together. She is completely relaxed as her eyes shut and her breathing slows. In her sleep, she subconsciously curls closer to you, pressing her body against you as if she is searching for a way to merge her body with yours.

In her sleep, she breathes your name; quiet and soft, like the sound of the first flower unfurling and opening as the spring sun rises.

"...Mm...let's go...strong...together..." A small smile rests on her face all through her sleep. She continues to press herself against you as she slumbers, her arm wrapping around your waist and drawing you close, her head coming to rest on the crook of your shoulder. Her body is so small that she practically fits perfectly against you, cuddling together with her like this is natural.

Every now and then, she'll murmur your name again, her breath puffing out against your skin and sending goose bumps along with it.

Scaramouche

"This is… unnecessary." Scaramouche fidgets as he lies on top of you, arms around your middle. He is tense, a statue carved of white marble, each line set in stone.

Still, he doesn't try to leave. He only fidgets, as if adjusting his position will make it all feel just a little less embarrassing.

"And yet, here we are." Scaramouche let's out a long sigh, his breath warm against your skin. After a moment, he shifts again, rolling onto his back. But rather than moving away, he pulls you with him, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you with him until you are on top, laying against his chest.

"There," he mumbles. "Now do not try and move. Stay." He can feel the heat of your body as you lie against him, head tucked beneath his chin. The steady rise and fall of his chest betrays his feigning of indifference; his heart beats like the wings of a bird in a cage.

"Why are we doing this?" He asks, his voice quiet, but his arms remain around your shoulders, his hands clinging to you, pulling you closer.

"Oh right, to fucking practice physical touch."

Sethos

Sethos hums softly, his eyes slipping shut. His head lays in your lap, his body pressed against you. He can feel the heat of you under his skin. His body, for once, is at peace.

“This is nice,” he murmurs, and his arms wind around you, holding you even closer. "Glad you like it." “More than like it,” Sethos admits, letting his eyes close. He can hear your heart beating against his ear, the steady drum-like rhythm like a lullaby.

He nuzzles his head against you, enjoying the comfort he finds in the proximity.

“If we could stay like this forever,” he mumbles, “I’d want nothing more.” Sethos’ hand glides across your body, tracing your curves and lines in an almost reverent manner. His touch is light, as if he was touching fine china.

He shifts slightly against you, leaning up to murmur against your shoulder. “You’re so lovely,” he whispers, the words like a quiet breath of wind upon your skin.

"So fucking lovely."

Shenhe

Shenhes head rests gently against your chest, listening to the beating of your heart. The quiet sounds of your breathing, a steady in-and-out rhythm, soothe her like a lullaby. Being this close to you is something she never knew she craved, like a parched person being given water in the desert.

Shenhe sighs, content. "Your heartbeat is beautiful," she mumbles, nuzzling her cheek into your skin.

"Good?" She nods against your chest. "Yes," she whispers. "Good."

She closes her eyes, letting the steady beat of your heart lull her into a feeling of security. Shenhe gently runs her fingers along your arm, exploring the feeling of your skin under her touch, wanting to commit it to memory forever. She's never felt more at peace than in this moment in your arms. She tugs the blanket around herself, pressing herself closer to you. The silence between you is comfortable, a quietness that is soft and warm like freshly laundered blankets. Shenhe's hand finds yours, her fingers weaving between yours like vines. She holds onto you in your embrace, her body fitting perfectly against yours. She could stay like this for hours, a moment of peace in a lifetime of turmoil.

"We could do this more often."

Shinobu

"Youre tense..." She leans into your touch immediately, relaxing under your hands with a soft shudder. She lets out a low breath, closing her eyes and pressing her face into the crook of your neck. "I'm sorry," she whispers against your skin. "Being near you simply… makes me a bit nervous."

She pauses, then she laughs quietly.

"I'm not used to this." She's silent for a few moments, inhaling the scent of your skin and simply listening to your heartbeat, and then she nuzzles against you again.

"You smell nice," she murmurs, her voice a soft whisper against your shoulder. "You always smell so good. Like flowers. Better than those guys from the gang."

"And your hair really soft." "Mm..." her grip on your arms tightens ever so slightly at the mention of her hair. The tips of her ears look faintly pink, though it's impossible to say if it's from the heat or because of embarrassment.

"You think so?"

There's a note of insecurity in her voice. She's not quite looking at you, but instead just resting her head against your shoulder again, like she's hiding.

"It's not… too unkempt?"

"Not at all. It's perfect."

Sigewinne - platonic

"How are your studies." "I'm doing my best." Sigewinne responds, her voice quiet. She's curled up against you, her head resting on your chest, listening to the comforting sound of your heartbeat.

"Human bodies are so fragile," she whispers, her hand splayed across your torso. "No wonder they're so scared of everything. Their hearts beat so quickly. And their skin is warm," she continues, eyes falling closed. She focuses the full force of her senses on the steady drumming of your pulse, on the gentle rise and fall of your chest.

"You're so warm." She murmurs, burying her face into your neck.

"Maybe I should start studying you!"

Succrose

Succrose's hair is splayed loosely over her face, her head resting on your chest as you cuddle. No matter how many times you hold her, she never gets used to the touch. It's too much; you're too much. She can't get enough.

Her fingers cling to you as though you are water in the desert, her skin pressing against yours as if she needs you to be alive. "I love this," she admits, the words whispered as if they're a secret. Her breath is warm against your skin. Her hair is like silk running through your fingers. She's more relaxed than usual, her body soft and supple as she melts into the comfort of your touch.

She lets out a shaky breath, burying her face into your shirt. You can hear the rapid beating of her heartbeat in her chest, can feel the nervous tremors running through her slender frame. "I'm glad you do."

She nods, burying her face into your chest again. "I don’t understand how you’re so perfect," she mumbles against your skin.

"It doesn't make...sense..."

Thoma

As you lean against his chest, Thoma's arms wrap around you in a gentle embrace. He is warm, comfortable. He buries his face into your hair, breathing in the scent of you as if he is drinking you in.

"I could stay like this forever," he murmurs in your ear. His hair brushes your cheek, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart. Cuddling in a meadow like this...is beautiful. His hand finds your own, and he runs his fingers over your skin. His touch is light, like a whisper, but there is something reverent in the way he holds you. He holds you as if you are fragile. Breakable. Precious. As if simply being allowed to touch you is a privilege.

"Me too." He runs his fingers over your wrist, tracing invisible patterns across your skin with his fingertips. His other hand comes up to thread through your hair. A quiet chuckle escapes Thoma's lips as he hears your words. He tightens his hold on you just a little, as if to reassure himself that you are still here, still in his arms. Still his.

"You know," he murmurs, shifting so that his chin is on your shoulder, "sometimes I worry that you know me too well."

Tighnari

Tighnari, sits with his back pressed against a tree. You are in his lap, sitting between his legs. One of his hands drifts idly through the hair at the nape of your neck, fingers gently scratching against your scalp.

He can hear your breathing. Feel the rise and fall of your chest. Your warmth against his, the faint scent of your hair.

His head tilts against yours, resting his chin against your shoulder and closing his eyes.

"Oh look! Fireflies!." His eyes flutter open again as you speak, the soft utterance bringing a small smile to his face. He cranes his neck to look at the fireflies dancing amongst the trees. "They're pretty." Tighnari murmurs, his lips nearly brushing against your ear as he speaks. His fingers play idly with the hair at the nape of your neck, the callouses on his hands catching gently against your skin. The fireflies cast a soft, glowing light over the two of you. It makes your skin glow.

Tighnari's chest tightens.

"You're pretty." He says, the words a quiet murmur against your hair.

Venti

Venti is sitting with you on a sturdy tree branch, comfortably resting on your lap. The Anemo Archon leans against you, nuzzling his face against the crook of your neck, basking in the warmth of your body. The two of you are high up in the air, surrounded by a sea of swaying trees and stars.

The wind god is silent for a moment, before speaking again. "I didn't think you would summon me this late in the night." Venti remarks casually, as if he’s not currently cuddled up on your lap."Summon? I asked and you agreed-!" "I know," Venti responds with a laugh, nuzzling his face further against your neck. "I'm just saying. You almost always call me earlier in the day."

Venti takes a moment to enjoy the close contact, humming softly in contentment. "I am a little curious - why did you request for me to come here? I'd think you'd be asleep by now."

"You don't like it?" "No, I do. I like it very much," Venti replies quickly, lifting his head away from your neck to look at you properly.

He is silent for a moment, his eyes dancing in the night, illuminated only by the faint shine of the stars. Then, Venti smiles; a gentle, lopsided smile, almost sheepish. "I was just wondering," he reassures.

"That's all."

Wriothesley

"You sure everyone's asleep?" You ask worried after hearing another sound from outside his office. "Absolutely," he murmurs in reply, his chin resting against your shoulder. There's an easy, quiet confidence in his words, and not a hint of concern.

His hands rest on your hips, thumbs absently rubbing circles against your skin where just below your shirt, his arms keeping you pinned to him, chest against your back. "We're safe," he breathes against your neck. He shifts a little in his chair and tugs you closer against him, hands moving from your hips to wrap around your waist. He buries his face against the expanse of bare skin, kissing your skin absentmindedly.

"Besides, you and I both know I can make you keep quiet, don't we, darling?"

You playfully swat his arm, "No respect for a god-!" He laughs, the sound deep and rich, like smoke curling through a forest. His lips find the junction between your shoulder and your neck, peppering the skin there with kisses before nipping at it.

His hands slide under the edge of your shirt, calloused fingers tracing up the smooth skin of your stomach.

"A god who's sitting in my lap, letting me touch and kiss and taste her like this?" He murmurs, licking a stripe along the curve of your shoulder.

"I'm showing you plenty of respect."

Xiangling - aged up

She is sitting on your lap, blushing as she hears her name fall from your lips.

She's never been used to this sort of attention before, and the feeling of you holding her makes her heart flutter in her chest. She can feel the warmth of your body through her clothes, and her mind can't help but wonder what it would be like to be even closer to you.

As you take a bite of her food, she watches your reaction expectantly, praying you will say you like it.

"Xiangling?! That's amazing-!" Xianglings heart swells with pride. To receive your praise, and to see your satisfaction at something she has created just for you...it's more than she ever thought she'd be granted.

"Really?" she stutters, eyes wide as she turns to look up at you, "you really like it?" "Mhm!" Your response makes Xianglings heart feel as if it might stop right there. A smile threatens to burst from her lips, one that threatens to stretch across her whole face and light her up like a star. You have made her happier than she's been in a long time, and Xiangling can't help but adore you for it.

"I'm so glad," she says, her voice full of joy. You love her cooking. You really do, and that makes her feel like the luckiest person on Teyvat.

"Whats this by the way? It's really good-!"

"Hilichurl."

"WHAT?!"

Xiao

He stiffens, his body going rigid at the sensation of being cuddled, being held closely in that way. It seems that this is a whole new experience for him.

"What—" He stops himself and inhales deeply, his body quivering against yours as he tries to process the feel of it all. The warmth, the nearness. The comfort.

Xiao swallows heavily a few times. His voice is quiet when he speaks again. "I've never…"

"Shh, relax." It's hard for him to relax, at first.

Xiao has never been held, never been loved like this. Every muscle in his body is rigid, quivering with a strange, foreign feeling.

But he forces himself to try. Slowly, he relaxes, letting the tension flow from his body into the night, until he's all but melting in your arms. "This is new," he mutters. "But I like it."

"Told you." He laughs quietly at your words and presses himself a little closer against you, burying his face into your neck, against your bare skin. He murmurs something against your skin, voice soft. "How is it that you always end up being right?"

"Heh-" "Shut up."

Xianyun

Xianyun's breath stutters as you lay against her chest. She is still for a moment— and then, like a dam breaking, she wraps her arms around you and pulls you close. Her arms are firm and strong, yet all she wants to do is hold you. She breathes out a soft, shaky sigh against your hair.

“You are mine,” she whispers. Xianyun's chest rises and falls as she holds you, her arms wrapped around you like a coil. Her heart pounds against your ear, her fingers curling into the fabric of your clothes. It is as though she is afraid you might slip away, as though there is nothing she would not do if it meant staying near you.

"Please," she pleads, her voice soft and desperate. She wants to say more, but the words stick to her tongue. What comes out instead is nothing but a whisper, a fervent prayer in the shape of a single word.

"Stay."

Xinyan

She lets out a content sound, her head in your lap. She feels safe here. Protected. Loved. She closes her eyes and allows herself to listen to you talk. The sound of your voice is sweet, comforting, lulling her worries into obscurity. For now, all is well.

"What happened?" *she asks, when you take a pause in talking. She opens her eyes and gazes up at you, curious what had happened to make your day notable.

"Nothing, just keep relaxing." You say with a smile. She hums her agreement. She buries her face in your stomach, wrapping her arms around you. Her fingers gently run up and down your back, her touch as light as a moth’s wing.

"‘m relaxin’," she mumbles, her voice muffled. Xinyan feels sleep tugging at the corners of her consciousness. The rhythm of your breath, your warmth beneath her skin, and the sweet scent you carry are all threatening to drag her into oblivion. One last thing weighs on her mind, her thoughts fuzzy and tired.

"Tell me somethin' before I fall asleep," she requests, half-whining as she speaks.

"I love you..."

"....me...too....w-wai...t...?"

Xingqiu - aged up

Xingqiu reads the words from the page aloud, his voice low and soothing. He murmurs your name softly, his lips caressing the syllables with a tender reverence.

He is comfortable in your embrace. His body sits flush against yours, a warm and constant presence. He pauses the story every now and then, placing a soft kiss against your shoulder before continuing.

He reads to you until the moon is high in the sky, and you have long drifted off to sleep, still cuddling him. Xingqiu sets the book aside, smiling fondly at the sight of you sleeping, peaceful as they come. He takes a moment to trace his eyes over your features, his gaze tender and warm.

He pulls the blankets up around your shoulders, and then he shifts to lay down beside you, wrapping one arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. He rests his head on your shoulder, nuzzling against your warmth. Xingqiu pulls you close, his nose buried against the crook of your neck. He inhales slowly, breathing in your scent.

His fingers trace mindless patterns over your hip, the movement as steady and soothing as a heartbeat. He shifts his leg so that it is tangled with yours, trying to get as close to you as he can.

He whispers your name, the sound like a secret meant for your ears only.

The world melts into a comfortable silence, with Xingqiu and you, holding each other in the dark.

Yae Miko

"Stop it-!" "I don't think I will," Miko teases, her voice light as she watches you thrash around in her embrace. She presses her fingers into the underside of your ribcage once more, just to feel you squirm. "Besides," she continues in a softer tone, "You look rather adorable like this."

Her hand moves to your tummy, gently tracing the ticklish skin there, watching as your eyes clamp shut and your laughter rings.

Seeing you like this, writhing and helpless, is all Miko has ever wanted. She has her arm pinned around your torso, trapping you against her, her slender fingers dancing down your side as she mercilessly continues to tease you.

Her lips brush against your ear. "Be a good girl and hold still for me, hm?"

"That's it," she praises in a low murmur, her voice like a hum against your ear. "Stay right there. Just like that."

Miko's hand still wanders across your skin, the tip of her forefinger tracing circles that make your toes curl and the sound of laughter slip past your lips despite your efforts to stay still.

"Fuck you-!"

"You will, later."

Yanfei

"And what is NOT against the law?" As you ask your question, Yanfei rests her head in your arms, relaxing in your presence. She blinks and tilts her head like a puppy, considering your question for a few moments.

"Hmm," she hums, her gaze drifting somewhere off in the distance before she looks back at you. She smiles. "Everything is legal when done in the name of love," she says, her voice lilting in a way that indicates she's joking. Your words make her think. Her eyes flutter as her thoughts race, and a moment later, Yanfei lets out a soft huff, snuggling even closer.

"Being happy," she adds in a quiet murmur, her words a little mumbled against your skin. "Being alive. Being free."

Her chin lifts as she shifts, turning to look at you once more.

"As far as I know, everything else is against the law," a soft huff follows her words, and she presses a kiss against the side of your neck. Another moment of silence falls before Yanfei opens her mouth, a gentle exhale against your skin as she continues.

"Did you know,” she adds, her words hushed and soft like the night breeze, "that being beautiful is also not against the law?"

She pauses, shifting a little, her body moving even closer. The room is quiet, nothing breaking the silence.

“Because if it were,” she whispers, and she lifts a hand to gently cup your cheek, “You’d be in deep trouble.”

Yaoyao - platonic

Yaoyao buries her head into you, seeking the comfort your presence brings. Her arms wrap around your torso, pulling herself closer to you. She presses her face into your shoulder, closing her eyes as she breaths in your scent.

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely louder than a breath. For a moment, she feels safe. Like you'll guard her from all harm.

"It's cold without you."

"After all I told you, if you fell lonely on your little adventures, come to me." A shudder runs through her body as Yaoyao clings to you even more, her fingers digging into the fabric of your clothing, as if she's loath to let go.

"Can I stay?" she asks, the words tumbling from her lips like water from a river bank. Despite the pleading in her voice, her head is still buried in your shoulder.

"Please, I want to stay with you. I always wanted to live here for a while-!"

Yelan

Yelan's breath hitches when you pull her closer, her head against your chest as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "This is all I need," she mumbles, the words falling from her lips before she can stop them. "Just this, forever. I don't need anything else." She lets out a soft sigh, her eyes closing as she nuzzles into you, resting her head against your shoulder. Even in your embrace, you can feel her body relax as if the simple touch took some great tension out of her.

"A gooood nap...Mm... Sounds like heaven," she mumbles sleepily against your skin, not bothering to hide her smile. Yelan drapes an arm across your torso, pulling herself even closer to you. She practically melts against your body, nuzzling into the crook of your neck like a cat seeking warmth. A soft, contented hum rumbles in her chest, her breathing steady and slow as she buries her face against you.

"With you."

Yoimiya

She melts under your touch, leaning against your body and letting out a soft and contented sigh. Her eyes flutter closed as she soaks in your presence, a gentle smile playing across her lips. Every touch of your hands sends a shiver of pleasure through her, her skin burning wherever you make contact. She nuzzles against your side, relishing the feeling of your body pressed against hers.

"I could stay here like this forever," she whispers. "Just you and me.. in this perfect moment...watching fireworks." The colorful explosions of light in the sky are beautiful, but to Yoimiya, even their beauty is dull compared to you. Her eyes remain fixed on you, watching the way the bursts of rainbow light reflect off your skin, dancing across your eyes like living flames.

She reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. She draws your palm to her lips, pressing a reverent and tender kiss to your skin.

"You are more beautiful than any fireworks," she whispers.

Yun Jin

"It was beautiful, breathtaking. You almost brought me to tears." She nuzzles closer to you at the praise, her heart fluttering like a bird's wing beating against a ribcage. She tucks her head against your chest with a sigh, her heart still beating much too fast from the high of preforming. Adrenaline still courses through her veins, making her head spin and her hands tremble when they grip onto you to steady her.

"I'm glad you think so," she says, her voice a little sheepish. "I just... worry about my preforming sometimes. I think I'm not good enough." Yun Jin buries her head against your chest, refusing to look you in the eyes as she spills her innermost fears and anxieties. She keeps her arms around you, scared she'll lose you if she lets go even an inch.

"I don't think my voice is good or the way I dance is captivating. I just..." then she laughs.

"No it's stupid. We all worry, mostly over nothing. I'm good...I'm very good...and you always tell me so it must be true."

Zhongli

Zhongli is still as a statue at your side; his body tense and stiff. But as you begin to pull him closer, he begins to melt in your arms.

Tentatively, he allows his head to rest against your shoulder, his breaths coming out in a shudder. He's still hesitant, but he lets you pull him closer. He wants to touch you back; to embrace you as you embrace him. But would he be crossing some invisible line he cannot see? He doesn't want to offend you.

"Let loose and relax." You reassure. Zhongli's mind is racing with thoughts— what if he does the wrong thing? What if he displeases you?

But his body seems to act of its own accord, as though some invisible weight was lifted from his shoulders as soon as you spoke.

He slowly leans against you, his body relaxing. He burrows closer to you, wrapping his arms weakly around your waist.

"I've never felt more awkward." You laugh.

"Agreed...I apolog-" "shush-! I love this."

[simp4wom3n]

Why Don't I Know You?

Requested: Yes/No ~ How about Regina having a crush on the reader but not saying anything bc she thinks the reader won't like her, but when the reader starts talking to her and everything, Regina is suddenly possessive ykwis

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Summary: Shocked when a face she doesn't recognise shows up in her class, Regina makes it her goal to learn everything about them, even if it leads to her gaining a massive crush. ~ Word Count: 4.1k ~ Warnings: lotta swearing, one slur, otherwise mainly fluff

A/N: HI!!! FIRST RENEE/REGINA FIC!!! she is criminally underwritten, so I thought I would do my part (other people pls do right for her I need stuff to read). I love her so so much, and I had a blast writing this, so pls enjoy <3 + I will be creating a Renee rapp taglist so comment or message me if you wanna be on it :)

The halls of North Shore High were like a second home to Regina. Some would call it her hunting ground. Each year, she relished her opportunity to prowl the hallways, hunting the new freshman as she committed every new face and name to mind, with the intention of digging up all the dirt she possibly could. With thanks to Gretchen, she knew everything about everyone.

But then there was you.

"Alright, we have a new student joining us today."

Regina's eyes widened in pure shock as you walked into the room. With your bag casually slung over your shoulder, you make a beeline for the empty tables surrounding Regina. Ignoring the intensity of her gaze, you drop your bag and settle into the chair next to her. The faint strains of music emanated from the headphones hanging from your ears as you began organizing your belongings, only to be interrupted by the teacher.

"Y/n, if you could please stand and introduce yourself."

Your eyes flicked nervously towards the teacher, and the entire class turned to look at you. The intensity of Regina's gaze made your cheeks glow with a faint red before you sighed dejectedly and reluctantly stood up, pulling out your headphones.

"Um... Hi, I'm Y/n... not really much else to say."

The teacher nodded at you before turning around to start the lesson. Watching as you sat down, Regina's focus shifted entirely to you.

She couldn't tell whether it was because she knew nothing about you, or that you were just so damn hot.

Maybe it was both.

As soon as the bell rang, signalling the end of the class, Regina wasted no time storming off to find Gretchen. Having watched you for the entirety of the class, she was desperate to find out everything about you.

Strutting through the packed hallway, everyone staring at her in fear, Regina locked onto her target as she came into her view. "Gretchen!" she called irritatedly. The small girl quickly turned around as her eyes widened in fear. "Tell me... How is it that I don't know anything about this new Junior, Y/n? Why wasn't I informed? I need all the details now!"

Gretchen, scrambling to keep up with Regina's relentless pace, stammered out an apology. "I-I'm sorry, Regina! I didn't even know they were coming."

"God, you are useless!"

In only a week, not only had watching you become her routine, but she had even started to develop a crush on you, as painful as that was for her to admit.

She was supposed to be chased, not the one chasing.

Seeing you had become the favourite part of her day, even above having the whole school bow at her feet. She hadn't even talked to you. She just watched.

She meticulously studied your every move, subconsciously committing all of your subtle mannerisms to memory. Like the way you would take notes, or the way you would nibble at your fingers when you were focused. Or her personal favourite, when you knawed at the end of your pencil when you were nervous or stressed.

Fuck, she wishes she was that pencil.

She hated to admit it, but the thought of talking to you terrified her. Her usually overbearing confidence drained away whenever you sat in the chair next to her, your mysterious yet comforting presence causing her to malfunction.

And yet, as she sat at lunch with Gretchen and Karen, she refused to mutter a word about you to them. The furthest they pushed was when Gretchen asked about you after catching Regina staring at you, and the look Regina gave the poor girl made her shut up immediately.

The lunch tables were packed as usual, but Regina's eyes scanned the hallway beside them. She was well aware that you never sat at any of the tables, so she patiently waited for you to return to your locker, which was conveniently placed within sight of her table.

Karen and Gretchen's incessant babbling went unnoticed as you finally appeared. She couldn't help but notice your slouched posture and sluggish movements. You looked exhausted. Your headphones, which you always had on you, dangled from one ear as you forcefully opened your locker.

As if she wasn't already concerned, the table of varsity jocks had also noticed you, taking your clearly irritated mood as a green light to push even more of your buttons. From across the room, Regina watched with a clenched jaw as three of them stood from the table and made their way towards you.

Her body ached with anger as she watched them grab you by the shoulder and throw you against the lockers. Your exhausted expression turned to one of fear as they held you up against the cold metal doors. The guy forcefully snatched your headphones away, callously tossing them to the ground and obliterating them with a single forceful step.

Regina choked on a gasp. She knew how much you loved those headphones.

She was annoyingly out of earshot as she watched them continue to laugh at and berate you whilst shaking you against the lockers. Her blood was boiling. The others had noticed her expression and cast confused glances towards the commotion, which only confused them more.

The Regina they knew would be laughing.

After Regina's next victims finally let you go, your body shook as you realised that the whole school had just watched you get shamelessly belittled. As soon as your gaze locked with Regina's, your embarrassment grew unbearable, triggering you to hastily get your belongings before moving to make a swift escape.

The last Regina saw of you, you were frantically running away, desperately trying to hide your state as tears streamed down your face.

Those jocks had no idea what was coming for them.

The next time she laid eyes on you was the week after. She had already exacted her revenge on the jocks, having called their parents and telling them they all had STDs, yet when she caught sight of your weary expression as you entered the classroom, the familiar sense of triumph eluded her.

As the lesson passed and the teacher blabbered about a new group project, Regina's eyes never left you as you buried yourself in your notebook.

"Ok, listening, please." the teacher announced, garnering both of your attention. "The groups are as follows," you patiently waited for your name to be read out so you could go back to absentmindedly doodling in the margins of your book, whilst Regina similarly waited to hear the name of the poor soul who would be stuck with her. Yet, to her surprise, she wasn't disgusted by the name read beside hers.

"Y/n and Regina,"

With eyes wide and fixed on the teacher, Regina failed to notice the sudden blush that crept onto your cheeks, causing you to quickly lower your head. "You have the rest of the lesson to plan." the teacher mumbled before returning to their desk, where they sat silently.

Neither of you moved. After a second of secretly hoping Regina would make her move, you figured she wasn't interested in you or the project. Opening your computer and immediately diving into research, Regina sat at her desk, trying to build the courage to talk to you.

God, she hated being a coward.

After a few minutes and a few internal pep talks, she decided to take her one excuse to talk to you as she finally scooted her desk towards yours and turned to face you. As she inched closer, your heart began to race, sensing her gaze fixed on you. With a bashful smile, you diverted your attention from your screen and finally made eye contact with her.

She was breathtaking.

Clearing your throat, you quickly turned back to your computer as you scratched the back of your neck. "I-I'll just do it all when I get home," you spoke nervously, presuming THE Regina George would want nothing to do with you or the project.

"What makes you think I'd make you do it alone," she retorts, her tone more flirtatious than she had intended, but she wasn't mad about it. You looked back at her, lost for words for a second as you tried to scramble together a response.

"Well... I-I just presumed you wouldn't want to help." A small smile formed on her lips as you briefly glanced at her, "I mean, you hardly pay attention, so I just... figured." She softly giggles at your words, her laughter sending a flutter of excitement through your body.

Little did you know she was distracted by you.

"Come to mine later. We can do it together." Regina's unexpected display of confidence caught both of you off guard as her usual flirtatious demeanour made a comeback. Meanwhile, you stared at her in disbelief, trying to process what had just happened. "Ugh... Yeah, sure, if that's ok?"

"I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't"

As the school bell rang through the corridors, you were overwhelmed with both relief and anxiety. After enduring a tedious day at school, you were now faced with the terrifying task of not only talking to Regina but also spending hours alone with her at her house.

Walking out the doors and towards the car park, the sound of the bustling school fading into the background, your eyes catch a familiar blonde leaning up against her Jeep. Your heart began to race faster as you approached her, your bag feeling heavier with each step.

Her expression softened as she noticed you approaching, a warm smile gracing her lips, and she pushed herself off her car. "Hey," she greets softly, a soft shade of pink painting her cheeks as you both smile at each other. "Hi," you said breathlessly with a small chuckle.

Without another word, Regina moves to get in, and you follow suit, chucking your bag into the backseat next to hers before climbing into the passenger seat.

The breeze gently tousled your hair as you drove to her house, the soothing tunes of music filling the air, matching the nervous excitement between you both. Your heart beat along with the music as you snuck glances at the girl sitting next to you. With her eyes focused on the road and the wind softly brushing her skin, you were utterly mesmerised by her.

Of course, you had heard of Regina George's horror stories, but this girl was different.

Sure, you hadn't spoken till this morning, but there was something about her you couldn't quite describe. Something that brought you to school every day, comforting you as you sat in undoubtedly one of the most boring classes, and that gave life at North Shore High purpose.

Frankly, you rejected any idea of her being a heartless bitch.

When you eventually turned into her driveway, your gaze was forced away from her as you caught sight of her house, or should you say mansion. The house was almost cinematic in grandeur, your eyes growing wider by the second as you drove closer before eventually stopping at the door.

"Wow," you mumbled under your breath as you exited her car, your eyes not leaving the building as you reached for your bag. You heard Regina chuckle lightly as she led the way to her door. "My mum's not home, thank god, so we have the place to ourselves."

You nod mindlessly as you follow her through the front door. As you trailed behind her, the pristine marble floors beneath your feet echoed with each step, a stark contrast to the scuffed linoleum of the school corridors.

Just when you thought you had gotten used to it, Regina led you to her room. Stepping inside, you find yourself mesmerised by everything around you. "This is your bedroom?" you asked, clearly taken aback. Regina glanced back at you, a shy smile on her face.

"Yeah, It was my parents, but I asked them to trade me." "Right...". You couldn't help but be captivated by the array of decorations adorning the walls, taking in the posters and photos that offered a rare glimpse into her life beyond her reign as the queen of North Shore.

Sitting on her bed and removing her shoes, she motions for you to do the same. Dropping your bag next to her massive bed and grabbing everything you need, you carefully sit down next to her, leaving enough room between the two of you so you don't seem invasive.

Opening your laptop and notebook, you place them on the bed as you pull up the project materials. You can feel Regina's gaze on you even though she's trying to be subtle, and the thought instantly makes your cheeks glow softly.

"So, uh, where do you want to start?"

The next few hours flew by as you worked on the project together. Regina was surprisingly helpful, the two of you moving closer as your work drew to a close. Now that the project was over, the familiar awkwardness lingered in the air as you searched for something to talk about that wouldn't embarrass you.

"You're really good at drawing, you know." Regina compliments softly, pointing at your notebook margins before you can say anything as you blush at her words. "Thanks... I've been doing it more since-" "Your headphones broke." Regina cuts you off as you look at her surprised.

"Yeah... How did you know that?" It was Regina's turn to blush as she realised that she had just revealed herself. Stammering to find an excuse, she looks away for a second, embarrassed. "I-I'm just a very observant person."

You look at her suspiciously with a small smile gracing your lips, the thought of Regina watching you making your heart flutter.

"You're different." you find yourself blurting out, "from how everyone else describes you, I mean." you finish quickly. Regina chuckles as she smiles at you softly. "You're different too. Good different. I like it."

The tension between you grew as you stared into each other's eyes. A softness behind her pale blue eyes drew you in, and before you knew it, you were slowly leaning in. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you caught Regina glancing down at your lips, her own caught between her teeth as your faces grew closer.

"Regina, honey!" You scramble backwards as Regina's bedroom door flies open, revealing who you believe to be her mum. "Oh. Hi there!" "Mum, seriously!?" Regina yells in disbelief. Your ears begin to ring as your head pounds, thinking about what would have happened if you had not been interrupted.

"I'm sorry, honey, I didn't realise you had anyone over." While Regina's mother was apologising, you could hear Regina sighing in frustration next to you. "I'll just go to the kitchen." Her mum suggests as she begins to leave the room, but you beat her to it. "No, Ms George, it's okay. I was on my way out anyway." You offer her a smile you hope appears as genuine as you quickly throw everything into your bag.

Trying to ignore Regina's pained gaze, you threw your bag over your shoulder, grabbed your shoes, and quickly exited her bedroom, making your way out the front door. You had no plan on how to get home, but you would rather walk than have to sit in that room after what had happened.

Walking into school the next day was like walking straight into a nightmare. You already weren't fond of the school, having been called slurs and made fun of constantly, but adding to that, your usual excitement of seeing Regina had been replaced with pure fear.

In just one night, you managed to spin every interaction you ever had with the girl, leaving you incredibly embarrassed about how you had let it all happen. Who were you to think Regina might actually like you? You were probably just a pawn in some big game.

Unlocking your locker and throwing it open, already fed up with the day before it had even begun, you began to unpack your stuff, completely ignorant of the approaching jock.

Walking into school with a similarly distraught look, Regina's mind was stuck reeling over the events from last night. The question of why you ran away was all she could think about until she heard a sharp bang.

Before you could react, you were once again thrown against the lockers, an irritated grunt leaving your lips. Your eyes met the same bastard who had made bullying you their new hobby. "Back for more, dyke?" he taunted you, your fists clenching involuntarily as you awaited the verbal abuse he was undoubtedly about to unleash on you.

Regina's head immediately whipped in its direction, a new sense of anger rushing through her body as she saw your saddened figure being pinned up against the lockers. Without hesitation, she storms towards the jock holding you against the wall with a fire burning behind her eyes.

"Fuck off, asshole!"

The boy's expression quickly shifted, causing him to release his grip on you and hastily retreat in terror. You sighed in relief as you observed Regina approaching you, her face contorted with unmistakable rage.

You found it quite amusing how scary everyone found her, causing the boy who had just been full of confidence to shrink into insignificance, like a tiny ant that she was about to step on.

"Look in her direction again, and it won't just be STDs next time."

The boy's face flashed in realisation before hurriedly scrambling off. All eyes were fixed on you as Regina directed her gaze towards you, her expression instantly softening with a hint of concern in her eyes. "Are you ok?" you managed a nod as the softness of her voice filled you with a comforting warmth.

"Yeah… Thanks," you replied softly, your familiar awkward energy filling the air. She watched you momentarily as you remained silent, hopeful that you would acknowledge her. Yet, as you continued to avert your gaze away from her, she gave you a soft nod before turning to leave. Her stomach sank as the failing state of your relationship grew more and more obvious.

With an unfamiliar burn of tears behind her eyes, her pace quickened as she tried to get as far away from you as she possibly could.

But you stopped her.

"Regina, wait!"

Looking over her shoulder and meeting your sorry gaze, her heart can't help but flutter as she watches you slowly jog after her. "Sorry, I-" you hesitated, feeling a surge of nerves as you came the closest you had been to Regina since yesterday. "Did you want to maybe... hang out at yours after school again?"

"Didn't we finish the project?" She seems confused, completely missing that you wanted to spend time together outside what was needed. "No, we did. I just thought we could, you know, just watch a movie or something, but if you're not into that-"

"I would love to." She interrupts your anxious babbling with a gentle laugh, her gaze filled with admiration as you stare at her in a state of surprise and joy. "Meet me at the same place, ok?" "Yeah". Regina walks away from you with a smirk as you stand there frozen.

Holy shit, you just asked Regina George out.

The trip to Regina's after the bell finally rang was much like the day before.

She waited for you by her car, dismissing her other friends when she spotted you. Greeting each other warmly before jumping in the car, you once again listened to music whilst the wind swept through your hair, a nervous yet warm sense of anticipation falling between you.

Pulling up to her house, which you were still in awe of, you jumped out of the car and walked towards the front door behind Regina. "This time, my mum actually isn't home and won't be. I made sure of it. So we really do have the place all to ourselves."

You both laughed at her words as a small blush crept onto your cheeks. You walked behind Regina as she entered her bedroom, studying the now familiar walls as she set up everything you needed to watch a movie.

After sitting on her bed with the TV switched on and Netflix loaded up, you still remained standing in her doorway, nibbling on your pencil, which you always kept stowed away in your pocket, causing her to glance at you with a puzzled expression. "You seem distracted. Everything okay?" she asked, her voice soft yet discerning.

Snapping back into reality, offering her a sheepish smile, you replied, "Yeah, just lost in thought, I guess." taking the pencil from your lips, you slowly moved towards her bed, your eyes subconsciously scanning every inch of her body, your mind going wild seeing her so comfortable.

Her gaze fixated on you, her piercing blue eyes captivating in the sunlight pouring through the window. She laughed softly, the sound filling the room with a pleasant melody. "Lost in thought or thoughts of me?"

The comment caught you off guard, and your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I… um, what makes you say that?". Regina, who reclined into her bed, gestured towards your hand, occupied by a chewed-up pencil.

"You always chew on that when you're nervous," she spoke softly. Your eyes widened in astonishment as the familiar burn returned to your cheeks. "How do you know that?" She smirked, "I notice everything." Regina's gaze never wavered as she continued watching you, a playful glint in her eyes.

"So, what's got you so nervous, Y/n?"

You felt a lump form in your throat as Regina's question hung in the air, filling the lavish room with tension. You couldn't help but fidget with your pencil, trying to find the right words to capture the overwhelming mix of emotions that Regina's presence constantly stirred within you.

"I, uh… it's just… everything, I guess. School, people, this…" You gestured vaguely between the two of you, unable to articulate the chaotic mess of feelings inside. Regina leaned up, her voice softening. "Well, you don't have to be nervous around me." Her eyes locked onto yours, a sincerity beneath the confident facade. "Now sit."

Slipping your shoes off and sitting on the bed, you move closer to Regina, who is lying against her pillows, her gaze unwavering. Eventually settling next to her, you turn to look at her, your heart fluttering as her soft eyes meet yours.

The room seemed to buzz with an unspoken energy, and all you could hear was the sound of your shared breaths. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, watching Regina's eyes analyse your face. A blush painted her cheeks, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Regina seemed hesitant, her mouth opening as if searching for the right words. "You know, I've been infatuated with you ever since you first walked into class." Your heart did a somersault at her words. A dreamy smile spread across your face, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of joy and disbelief.

"Regina George. Infatuated with me?" you teased playfully, her confession coursing adrenaline through your veins. With a gentle laugh, she hides her face briefly behind her hand before looking back at you, matching your wide smile.

"Shut up."

Leaning towards you, Regina's hands delicately wrapped around your neck, a slight shiver travelling down your spine. The room appeared to tighten as Regina held you, her touch confident and gentle. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes never leaving Regina's as she closed the distance.

Time seemed to stand still as her lips met yours.

The touch of her lips against yours was gentle, her hands brushing your neck with a mix of desire and passion. Everything else faded away as you fell into the kiss.

Her breath mingled with yours, and you could feel the rapid beat of her heart echoing your own. The room seemed to buzz with an electrifying charge, and the only sounds that reached your ears were the shared breaths between you two.

As Regina pulled away, a shared moment of breathless silence hung in the air. Once buzzing with unspoken energy, the room was now filled with the soft sounds of your intertwined breaths. Regina's cheeks were tinted with a deeper blush, and a subtle smirk played on her lips.

Your mind still reeling from the feeling of her lips on hers, you speak with a breathless chuckle, "What's everyone else gonna think?". Regina smirked at your question, a glint of defiance in her eyes as she pulled you back in, mumbling her response on your lips.

"Let them talk."

Tag-list:@nitchxhdc @emeraldevan @looseheartedlady @the-night-owl-blr @badassjaguar @txmxav @oh-thats-cute @blckrwidow @cacciatricediartemide @flaiire1805 @rainbow-love4ever @fall-08 @simp4nat @natashadeservedmore @livingforwaddams @alexkolax @ssinfulprayers @wifeyjennaortega @thenextdawn @wol-fica

[copper-16]

She Feels Safe With You

Ingrid comes to a realization about her wife as a mother after a particularly hard day with a fussy, upset baby.

(a/n: this was requested by someone on ao3! It's honestly half coherent but life I am riding the struggle bus a tad bit ust wanted to write something soft and sweet about these three, hence this!)

Mapi never really considered herself a crier, not just as a general rule. 

She did not cry when she got hurt, or when she was frustrated, or when she watched a sad movie. 

She cried occasionally, sure, but it wasn’t a daily, or weekly, or even monthly occurrence. 

The Spaniard had cried when Ingrid had walked down the aisle, when she had resigned from the national team. She had cried when she got the notification that Spain had won the World Cup, an event she was not present for. 

When they found out they were pregnant, Mapi cried. Ingrid had been in too much disbelief to cry at first, not truly believing that it had worked, not after two failed transfers. 

But the center back had cried instantly, fat, bumble bee like tears rolling down her cheeks as she thought about the fact that they were actually going to be having a baby. 

It probably should have been a sign of what was to come, in the future. 

Mapi cried at nearly every ultrasound, tears springing to her eyes whenever they simply wheeled the doppler in, practically. Ingrid had begun to joke that her wife had turned into Pavlov’s dog, except it was listening to their baby's heartbeat at the appointments. It earns her a withering glance, as Mapi roughly shoved her tears away. 

“Are you going to cry every time you hold her? What is going to happen when you hear her heartbeat when she is no longer inside of me?” Ingrid sassed, though Mapi does not dignify her with a response. 

The Norwegian has a relatively easy pregnancy, thank god. She keeps waiting for the wild emotional highs and lows, or the cravings, but neither really come. She had her moments, sure, but in the large percentage of the time, she felt normal. 

What had been more fun, honestly, was to watch her wife turn into a complete and utter pile of mush, emotionally. 

She had never seen Mapi cry as much as she did in the lead up to Elena’s birth. Sometimes she would walk out of their bedroom to see Mapi sitting on the couch, tears running down her face as she looked straight ahead, not even really looking at anything in particular. 

“What are you crying about?” Ingrid had asked, her head cocked to the side in confusion. The Spaniard looked back toward her, her brows furrowed in confusion as she shook her head. 

“I’m not really…I’m not really sure?” Mapi asked, her words a question rather than a statement. She took Ingrid in for a second, the swell of her stomach, and couldn’t help the fresh wave of tears that overtook her once more. 

“We’re having a daughter,” she breathed out, her words slightly gasping over the wavering of emotion in her voice. Ingrid made her way over to the couch, settling next to her wife as she curled into her. 

Mapi moved to wrap her arms around Ingrid, as she usually did, but the dark haired woman stopped her, softly. Instead, she took her wife's hands gently in her own, pressing a kiss to each of her palms before she placed them over her belly. 

Ingrid relished in the way that her wife let out the tiniest little sigh of relief, even as more tears dripped down her face. 

“That’s your daughter in there,” Ingrid insisted, her voice soft. A tiny kick pressed against the center back’s hand, as if to punctuate the defender’s point. Mapi closed her eyes, even more tears leaking out of her eyes as she nodded. 

The Spaniard was terrified that she wouldn’t be connected to Elena, because she wasn’t the one who carried her. She was terrified that she wouldn’t love her daughter, or be a good parent, that she wouldn’t do or say the right things. 

It was easy for Ingrid to know that Mapi was going to be a good parent. Because the reality of the matter was that her wife cared, deeply, and that already made her a hell of a better parent than a lot of people out there. 

But Mapi still struggled to see that, no matter how much she was reminded. 

————

Mapi cried when Elena was born. She cried as she held her little baby, as she pressed the pad of her pointer finger to her little nose. Elena stayed firmly asleep when she was in Mapi’s arms, never once fussing until she was passed around. 

It became a bit of a theme, their daughter sleeping on Mapi. 

Ingrid didn’t notice it at first, not when she was a baby. She was so little after all, all she did was sleep, practically. 

But still, Ingrid snapped a million photos of her daughter, and so she got a fair bit of Elena sleeping against Mapi. It was where her daughter always seemed happiest, and as much as the Spaniard panicked and turned to Ingrid when the baby was fussing, it was her who was the best at calming Elena. 

It was only when Elena got a little bit older, that Ingrid finally pieced it together. 

The baby was a little bit older, a little bit more alert. She was nearly a year old when she began to resist sleeping, not as easy to put down, waking up early, becoming fussy. 

Ingrid had been at her wits end all morning. The baby wouldn’t stop crying, and her head hurt, and she was tired. 

She wanted nothing more than to go into her bedroom, curl up with her wife, and sleep for more than two hours at a time. But she couldn’t do that, not with her baby here, not when Elena needed her. 

When the doorbell rang, the Norwegian honestly wanted to scream. Elena looked as though she was just about to fall asleep, but the baby jerked awake as soon as the doorbell rang, her nap forgotten. 

The crying was back, and Ingrid held the baby to her chest as she ripped the door open, lashing out at whatever was closest. 

The culprit just happened to be Frido. 

“Fridolina Rolfö I swear to GOD–” Ingrid started, only to be cut off before she could say something she truly regretted. 

“Ingrid.” 

The voice was soft, and probably shouldn’t have been audible over the crying of their daughter, but Ingrid would never not hear her wife. The defender turned around, finding Mapi standing behind her with a sympathetic look on her face. 

The Spaniard had just gotten off the phone from a brand meeting, just a few minutes prior. But she had called Frido before the meeting started, telling the Swede that she needed to come steal Ingrid for a bit. Feed her, let her nap in peace, get away from the house for a bit. 

The Norwegian looked back at her wife with confusion. She hadn’t made plans with Frido, and she knew that she couldn’t leave Elena like this. 

But the Spaniard reached for the baby regardless, taking her from Ingrid. The dark haired woman looked over her wifes face. There was exhaustion present, lines written into her face, bags under her eyes. 

But there was also understanding there. Some nerves, but understanding nonetheless. 

“I called Frido to come take you back to her house for a bit, to have a little bit of a break. Eat a proper meal. Get some sleep without a crying baby around. Rest for a while, princesa. We will be here when you return,” Mapi promised, leaning forward to kiss Ingrid’s cheek. The Norwegian panicked, looking from Frido to her wife. 

“But–” Ingrid started, knowing how nervous it made Mapi to be left alone with the baby. 

Still, even all these months later, she worried that she was struggling to connect with her daughter. All of Ingrid’s movements seemed so natural, so perfected. And somehow still, hers felt awkward and stinted, never quite right, never as maternal or as easy as she wanted them to be. 

She wanted to do better, though, for her daughter and her wife, who was clearly exhausted. Not that the center back wasn’t equally as tired, she just couldn’t very well do anything about it right this very second. But she could do something about Ingrid’s exhaustion. 

“No, we will be fine, Ingrid. Take a few hours, amor, you are exhausted,” Mapi soothed, gently pressing the Norwegian out of the door with a soft hand, allowing Frido to lead her away. 

It turned out, Ingrid needed it more than she thought humanly possible. When she got back to the Swede’s house, there was Sodd waiting for her on the table, and she practically collapsed into the bowl she ate so quickly. 

She napped in Frido’s guest bedroom, sleeping for four straight hours. 

When she awoke, she felt like a new woman. She emerged from the bedroom with a small, sheepish smile. 

“I am SO sorry for snapping at you this morning,” Ingrid apologized, even as Frido held up her hand. 

“Ingrid, you were exhausted and carrying a screaming baby, if I had been you I would have been roundhouse kicking someone,” Frido admitted, and the defender couldn’t help the tiny laugh that she released at the thought. As she came back to herself, she couldn’t help but straighten, a thought racing through her mind. 

“Oh my god, Mapi is still home with the baby…can you take me back?” Ingrid asked in a slight panic, and her Swedish teammate quickly sprung into action to grab her car keys. 

“She is still so worried that she is not doing a good job with Elena,” the Norwegian admitted as they drove, her heart punctuated with worry. 

“Still?” Frido asked, well aware of the struggles that the center back had during the first few months of Elena’s life. 

“Not as much now, but still. It does not come as naturally to her as she wants it to be, but she still does such a good job, somehow. I do not know how she doesn’t see it, really,” Ingrid revealed, and Frido let out a small, sad sigh. 

“She is so hard on herself,” the Swede commented, and Ingrid could only cringe as she nodded, her agreement weighing on the car heavily. 

Frido parked the car in the car park of their apartment building, coming up with Ingrid to check on Mapi and Elena. They were both expecting to still hear crying as they unlocked the door, but the house was…quiet. 

Ingrid looked toward her teammate in confusion before they walked into the house, both of them searching for the Spaniard. 

“Mapi?” Frido called out softly as she checked the kitchen, only to hear the Norwegian call out to her in the living room. 

When the blonde walked into the room, she stopped next to Ingrid, surprise coating her expression. 

Mapi was fast asleep on the couch, with Elena curled into her chest. Mapi was only in a sports bra, her shirt discarded on the floor. The baby was stripped down to her diaper, pressed into her Mami’s chest comfortably, completely asleep as well. 

Frido looked from the Spaniard to the Norwegian, her eyebrow raised. 

“I don’t know, looks pretty natural to me,” she shrugged, and Ingrid softened as she nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight. She pulled her phone out, snapping a photo and placing it in an album on her phone that she was well acquainted with. 

Ingrid left the two of them, seeing Frido out before she returned to the living room. She sat on the floor, simply staring up at the two of them as they slept. Elena was completely safe, engulfed by Mapi’s arms. 

How Mapi could keep her daughter so safe and secure, and still question whether she was a good parent, Ingrid sometimes did not know. It seemed so blatantly obvious to the dark haired woman, that her wife was an amazing parent. 

She only wished that the brunette could see it herself. 

It was only another half hour before Elena began to fuss, and Ingrid quickly plucked the baby from her wife’s arms, going to feed and change her. The Spaniard was dead to the world, and Ingrid decided to simply let her sleep. 

Lord knows the woman could use it, just as she had needed it. 

But even after Elena was fed and changed, she continued to fuss. She cried softly, not very loudly or in a grumpy way, but as though she was not completely happy. 

Ingrid tried everything. She bounced the baby, she walked her around, she made faces at her, she covered her in blankets, she laid her down. 

Nothing seemed to appease her daughter. Not even when Ingrid stripped her own shirt off, wondering if maybe she just enjoyed the skin to skin contact. 

But still Elena kicked her little legs, letting out a weak, tired cry. The defender held her baby out in front of her, her eyebrows furrowed. 

“What do you need?” Ingrid asked aloud, though she wasn’t really expecting an answer. Still Elena let out a frustrated cry, wriggling slightly. The Norwegian paused for a moment, before turning around and heading for the living room to test a theory that was beginning to form. 

And sure enough, as soon as the baby was laid on her Mami’s chest, she quieted instantly. 

The brunette shifted in her sleep, wrapping her arms protectively around Elena, mumbling incoherently as she snuggled into her. Ingrid sat down on the couch next to her, cuddling into her wife as she slept, and helping to keep their daughter held securely as she slept. 

Mapi awoke when Elena started fussing again, waking gently as she wrapped her arms around her daughter, her attention completely on Elena even as she woke up. 

“Shh shh mi sol, esta bien, esta bien,” Mapi murmured, picking Elena up and going to sit up, at which point she registered Ingrid next to her. 

“Oh, hello princesa,” the Spaniard murmured, settling their daughter in her arms before she leaned over to deposit a kiss on her wife’s cheek. She paused though, when she found Ingrid crying, her phone in hand. 

“Ingrid? Is everything okay?” Mapi asked softly, her voice thick with sleep but still filled with concern. The Norwegian nodded easily, running her hand over Elena’s back as she set her phone down on the couch. 

“You are the best Mami,” she replied simply, watching as a flicker of doubt overtook the Spaniard’s face before she nodded, trying her hardest to look encouraged. The Norwegian looked at her wife for a moment before she reached for their daughter. 

“Here, give me Elena,” Ingrid said gently, taking the baby and going to put her down for an actual nap. 

When Ingrid returned, she found the center back sitting on the couch, her knees pulled up to her chest. 

“I realized something, when I came back from Frido’s,” the defender began as she sat back down, reaching for her phone once more. Mapi turned to look at her, quiet and more than a little curious. 

“Ever since Elena was born, I’ve kept an album on my phone that is just pictures of her sleeping on you. And whenever I feel sad, or upset, or I just need a little pick me up, I always look at it. It’s my two favorite people in the world, after all,” Ingrid explained, and her words are so gentle that Mapi can’t help but smile shyly, even after all these years. 

“She’s always loved sleeping on you, María. You are the best at calming her down, you are the first to get her to sleep. She feels safe sleeping on you, amor,” Ingrid argued softly, though Mapi looked immediately posed to disagree. 

“Look,” Ingrid insisted, pressing her phone into the hands of her wife. The album is already pulled up, simply waiting for the Spaniard. 

Hundreds of pictures. 

Thousands of pictures, even. 

All of Elena snuggled into her Mami, fast asleep. They started when she was a newborn, so tiny that Mapi had struggled to even hold her without feeling fear. 

As the little girl grew, so did the Spaniard’s resolve to be there for her daughter. Her confidence grew as well, her worry subsided a little bit. 

But more than anything, over the last year, her love for the little girl grew immensely. Tears slid down her cheeks as she scrolled through the album, through the actual, physical proof that just served to show how much she had come to care for their daughter. 

The brunette still had no clue how she could hold so much love for someone so incredibly small, but she did.

The Spaniard stood suddenly, handing Ingrid’s phone back to her before she walked back into their apartment. It was the number one rule, not to move a sleeping baby, but Mapi did not care, not right now. 

She picked Elena up from her crib, tucking her daughter into her arms tightly, praying that she could always protect her from the world as much as she could right now. 

The baby stayed fast asleep, little hot puffs of air hitting her in the chest, where Elena was positioned. Mapi bowed her head downward, her tears dripping from her nose and onto her daughter's perfect little head as she pressed kiss after kiss to the crown of her head. 

“Te amo mucho,” Mapi murmured, as she wondered if finally, finally, she was enough. 

“She feels safe with you,” Ingrid commented from her spot leaning against the doorway of the nursery. The center back looked up for a moment, her eyes thick with tears. “She is always falling asleep with you, always soothed by you. She feels safe with you, amor. She feels safe with her Mami, and that is enough, you are enough,” Ingrid emphasized, and Mapi struggles to keep her composure as her lungs spasm, burning from the effort of keeping her cries quiet. 

Elena opens her eyes carefully, blinking up at Mapi with sleep ridden eyes. 

“Mami,” she rasps, reaching out for the Spaniard. Mapi cradles her daughter close to her, pressing her face into Elena’s skin as the little girl giggles lightly, reaching out to pull at a lock of brunette hair. 

The Spaniard cannot bring herself to care as she pulls the little girl back, looking her firmly in the eyes. Elena smiles back at her, content and happy, safe and secure. 

“Te amo tanto. No puedo vivir sin ti,” Mapi murmured to her daughter, as she felt a part of her heart settle. 

Maybe it hadn’t always been the most natural thing to her, to hold a child or change a diaper or play with a baby. 

But what she made up for in lack of skill in the beginning, she had made up for with an entirely overwhelming amount of love. Because no matter what she did not know, there was absolutely nothing that Mapi would not do for her little girl. 

And maybe, at its core, that had always been enough. 

Maybe all they needed for everything to make sense was a little love, and a very long nap. 

[epiclamer]

Part 2

“You’re finally awake~”

Sidekick barely registered the voice over the pounding of their heart in their head. They stretched their neck up to try and see whomever had tied them spread eagle to a bed, but could hardly get a glance from their restrained position.

Footsteps resounded through the room until they stopped somewhere near the foot of the bed. The hero-in-training gulped, they were terrified.

“W-Who are you?”

Their capturer huffed a laugh, stepping over to the side of the bed and into the sidekick’s view. “You’ve yet to meet me, darling. I’m a friend of your friend.”

The sidekick pursed their lips in an awkward frown, masking their unease. “By friend, you mean enemy… right?”

The other, presumably Villain (the sidekick guessed), smirked. “I guess you could say that.”

Hot sweat ran down the sidekick’s back and into the soft sheets below them, for some reason their whole body felt hot. Were they drugged? Truth serum-ed? Maybe even poisoned?

“You might have a concussion, I hit you quite hard over the head.” As if on queue, the sidekick felt a sudden sharp sting at the back of their head and for a sickening moment they realized the sweat coating their hair wasn’t actually sweat at all. “I didn’t think you’d be that easy to take down, if I’m being honest.”

The villain shrugged, somewhat amused as they watched the sidekick’s pale face distort in a mix of unresolved emotions. Eyeing their prisoner up and down from their jail cell of a bed with a look Sidekick had only ever been warned about by Hero before.

Sidekick’s mouth opened and closed, searching for something to say, toying with the idea of talking their way out of a torture session. “Y-You know, Hero is still out there. If you’re looking for them, I-I mean you just missed them—”

“Do they teach you to sell out your superiors immediately in hero school? Or is that just your own last ditch attempt to get away scott-free as a coward?”

Sidekick shut up. Villain had a point, they weren’t exactly painting the best picture for their reputation.

The villain grinned, leaning over the bed and placing a hand against the sidekick’s chest. They let their fingers wander as they spoke, “I will say though, coward or not, you sure are putting this body to waste working for that rat of a hero you call your mentor.”

Their second hand crept up along the sidekick’s torso and the criminal didn’t hesitate to begin slowly unbuttoning their dress shirt. Both of their eyes focused on the bits of skin that were carefully being revealed as they worked the lower buttons apart.

Sidekick’s breath hitched, was Villain seriously hitting on them? What were they doing? What was happening? None of Hero’s master classes could’ve prepared them for this moment.

The further down the villain’s hands went the more the sidekick’s heartbeat picked up. They convinced themselves it was because of the torture that was increasingly impending and not the fact that someone as breathtaking as the villain was, was stripping them down.

They began to struggle, pulling subtly—or so they thought—against their bonds, letting the burn from the rope digging into their skin distract them from the villain’s fingers exploring their body.

Pulling back the fabric of their button-up, Villain revealed the hero-in-training to their hungry eyes. Going straight to teasingly tracing their nails into the sidekick’s skin, relishing in their goosebumps and gasps.

“Sweetheart,” Villain’s eyes flicked to Sidekick’s, digging their nails into their fleshy shoulders hard enough to draw blood. “Don’t pull on the ropes, okay? I guarantee you that my knots are more than strong enough to hold, so be a dear and don’t hurt yourself any more than you already have.”

For some reason, Sidekick stopped, they didn’t fight back harder like they were taught. The villain’s eyes were entrancing and their voice was soft but stern, guiding the sidekick’s actions and thoughts with every word they spoke.

Hero had warned them of that.

Villain smiled, pleased with their captive as they continued their soft tracing of skin. Leaving behind angry, red, crescents on the sidekick’s shoulder in their wake. “Hero spoke of you, but they never mentioned how good you look… What a shame.”

Sidekick’s face burned a beet coloured red. “W-What?”

“Well, I would’ve kidnapped you a lot sooner if I had known~” Villain drawled as if it were obvious and Sidekick cursed their lucky genes.

“But enough chit chat,” the criminal brought their hands back to their sides. “Let’s get back to the real reason you’re here…”

And in a second the sidekick’s heart lurched into their throat at the ‘snap’ of switchblade flipping open.

[brownskinlemon]

Adore (D.F.)

summary: REQUEST (could u possibly do a story of dom calming y/n down after some like degrading disgusting sex bc he can tell it was a lot for her and have him be all soft and sweet. thank u gorl i love u)

warnings: dom! dominic fike x fem! reader, degrading, daddy kink, overstimulation, angst, fluff

word count: 907

authors note: thank you hun, muah! Thank you guys for your patience and kind words, such a great community. Here's one on the shorter side for my lovely requester <3

It had been a rougher week for you and your boyfriend Dominic. It seemed like at a moment’s notice you two were once again bickering over something small and insignificant. 

The dishes not being done: argument. 

A lost sock in the house: argument.  

Dinner being late: argument.

By the end of the week, you had been exhausted and worried that this bickering would truly never end. It reached its peak when he breathed “too loudly” for your comfort while getting ready for bed, causing you the most explosive argument yet.

Now, here you were, pinned between him and the edge of the bed, no urge in you to argue, your brain trying to form thoughts and failing miserably. Dom had milked 3 orgasms out of you driven by pure spite. Time blended together as his hips grinded into the second hour, knees hoisted up near your ears as he drove into you over and over, hitting the deepest spots inside of you. 

His hand gripped around your throat firmly, the other hand circling your bundle of nerves that was far beyond the point of overstimulation. Hickies galore decorated your body, along with some markings around your thighs from how he gripped onto you earlier while devouring you until you were a pitiful, begging mess. You both were covered in a sheen of sweat, bodies grappling onto each other like your lives depended on it.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself? Hm?” His thrusted not faltering as he began to tease you, eyes not leaving your flushed face. “You had so much to say all fucking week.” He hissed at you. 

He suddenly grabbed your chin, forcing your eyes that had rolled back to meet his. “Say it or I pull out right now.” The threat of him leaving you empty was all too real and too terrifying. 

“Dom I-” You stammered, being interrupted by your own whines. “Please I need-please-”

“Please who?” He taunted.

“Please daddy. I’m sorry.” Your voice betrayed you as it shook with every thrust deep within you. “ Please please-” 

“Be a good girl and let it go for me. Give it all to me.” He continued to talk you through the waves of pleasure wracking your whole body for the fourth time that night. He relished in the way you became a babbling mess of his name and pitiful pleads leaving your mouth. Your nails dug into his tanned biceps as he soon became undone with you, unable to hold off as you clenched desperately around him. 

He gently pulled out of you, careful not to throw your body into more sensitivity shock than it already was. Dominic’s eyebrows furrowed as he took in your shaking frame, watching how hard your chest heaved with small whines and your body shook. He leaned over you, gently trying to get your lulling eyes to look at him.

“Hey angel, look at me.” He cooed gently, cupping your face with his palm. You tried to find your grounding, forcing your eyes that wanted to close so badly to peer up at his brown puppy eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Concern laced his voice. You nodded gently, causing him to release a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He stalked off quietly to the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth. “Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?” 

As he spread your legs to gently clean you off, you whined at the sensitivity. “Sorry baby. I know how sensitive you are right now. But you did such a good job for me, took it so well. ” He cooed, eyes switching between cleaning you up and your fucked out face. After throwing the towel in the hamper, he crawled back into bed with you covering you both in the blanket, silence blanketing the dark room. 

“Dom.” You finally broke your silence gently, causing his head to snap to yours.

“Yes angel.” 

“I thought…” You began to get teary eyed.

“Woah woah, did I hurt you? I’m sorry baby I didn’t mean to, where does it-” He shot up, eyes scanning over your body and eyes blown wide from fear.

“Dom. You didn’t, I’m okay, great actually. I was just…scared this week. Scared that we were doomed or something.” He settled back down, biting down on his bottom lip as he took in your words.

“I was too. We’ve never been the bickering type and I just- I don’t know. You know I’m not good with emotions, but I do wanna say I’m sorry. My attention has been on work and I didn't mean to make you feel abandoned.” He confessed.

You didn’t notice the tear falling down your cheek till his tattooed hand gently reached out to wipe it for you. His eyes were filled with adoration as he brought you in closer to him, kissing your forehead gently.

“I love you Dom.”

‘I love you more angel. Get some rest now okay? We can always talk more in the morning. I think I accidentally turned your body and brain to mush.” He kissed your nose, causing you to giggle. 

“Mush is the perfect word I’d use.” You replied, falling asleep in his arms.

He looked down at your sleeping frame, smiling to himself at how the furrow in your brow from overthinking and stress had finally settled as you were fully relaxed. His eyes trailed across your features, soaking up the way you couldn’t shy away from his gaze in this moment, free for him to adore you as he always had.

[melodygatesauthor]

Marc Spector - Venom Host Edition - Random Horny Thot #1 - Feral

I blame @guruan for planting the seed that grew these thots. (affectionate blame of course)

NSFW

----

Marc comes home, breathing heavy, so much sweat covering his body it's as though he's been swimming. He slams the door, narrowing his eyes. They darken as he charges forward at you. He grabs you, pulling you close and slamming his lips into yours desperately, nearly drawing blood with the force your teeth hit your skin. The kisses are passionate, but also very...hungry.

You can't hear the thing that has corrupted his body, working its way into every cell like a parasite. Venom, it calls itself. 'Hungry,' it keeps saying inside Marc's mind. What it's hungry for, Marc doesn't know yet. It isn't interested in food at the moment, it seems to be only interested in you.

He gets his bearings and steps back away from you, eyes wide and full of terror as he looks you up and down.

"Go! Get away from me!" He yells, seconds before he loses control again.

Black stringy tendrils cage you into his chest, and he starts melting his mouth into you again, but this time you feel something long and wet snaking past your lips. It's like a tongue, but longer, thicker. You gag on it, trying desperately to get free from its grip. This isn't Marc, or at least, it isn't fully Marc.

He can't stop himself from feeling your throat with the new tongue he possesses. It's like he is tasting it, but he can hear the voice in his head tasting you too, commenting on how delicious you are and how it wants more. The creature uses Marc's arms to bring you to the bed, and you writhe in protest.

You shriek, and that pisses the symbiote off. It uses its amorphous body to make a limb that covers your mouth. Marc is hovering over you, black, shiny tendrils sticking out in various areas, and he looks terrifying.

"Marc, we want to taste her..." the creature growls inside of Marc.

"No! No we do not!" He yells back to Venom, but to you he looks insane, like he's yelling at himself.

The creature wastes no more time, it's ripping your sweats from your body like they personally wronged him. It uses its fluid figure to push your knees up by your head, all while keeping your mouth covered. Marc's face is brought, against his will (although he didn't mind), down so he's eye level with your cunt.

"Honey, why are you so fuckin' wet? Are you enjoying-"

"Yes she is enjoying this, lick her, do it!" The voice orders, and Marc listens.

He focuses on your clit, he knows what he's doing, having done it a hundred times before. He circles around the swollen nub, relishing in your delicious arousal over his tastebuds. You moan deeply, arching your back. Normally Marc has to use his fingers to get you to sound like this, but that's when he stops to look down and realizes...Venom's made a phallic shape with its body and is pumping itself into you while Marc makes a meal of your clit.

"Keep going Marc, she likes it, and it tastes good...I'm so hungry..."

"You better not fucking hurt her." Marc says lowly, but continues flicking his tongue over you despite his concerns.

It was right, you do seem to be liking the extra stimulation the symbiote can provide, and you do taste delicious. Marc doesn't know if the symbiote he accidentally adopted from the lab is a sexual being, but it seems keen on making you squirm. It runs two thin tentacle-like arms under your shirt and Marc sees them teasing your nipples.

You start groaning like Marc had never heard you before, body convulsing and trembling. Is his tongue even doing anything for you anymore? Venom seems to have it all under control. Marc stops again, and your eyes shoot him a daring glare.

"Of course she can feel what you're doing, idiot. Keep going, she's squeezing around me...I think she's close." It sounds eager, rough, and like it's excited to feel you come.

Like minds.

When you do come, you're grateful that Venom has your mouth covered, otherwise you'd be explaining something very awkward to your neighbors. It's deep inside of you, hitting your cervix with ease while Marc continues licking your sensitive bundle of nerves. It's too much, you're done coming and they both keep going anyway.

"I like those sounds she's making, what happens if we go faster?"

You're wriggling, trying to break free, feeling the build up inside your core that you can't shake. You're fighting to tell them to move, to explain to them that this isn't what they think it is. It feels like...like you're going to...

The pressure releases, and you see the clear liquid spraying from your body and there's nothing you can do. You're ashamed, but it feels too good to fathom. It's so messy, so wet, and it's everywhere.

"There, that's good." The symbiote says slowly, before Marc is finally given peace.

He's breathing heavily, a heap on the bed, still drenched in sweat, and whatever you'd just covered him in. You're no better, finally able to get the oxygen fully into your lungs, chest heaving while you lay on the bed.

"Baby," Marc says when he's finally able to crawl up to the head of the bed and lay next to you, "are you alright?"

You look at him and nod slowly, "I...I want more."

----

Any of my blurbs can be used as inspo for a fic. Please tag me for credit. Thank you!

Random Blurbs Masterlist

[tired-teacher-blog]

Your game or mine

Characters : Shigaraki Tomura/ Fem reader

Warnings and Genre : NSFW/ 18+/ Breast Play (reader is having fun with Shiggy's tiddies)/ Dry Humping/ Mating Press/ Cream Pie/ Squirting/ A Hint Of Fluff/ One Shot

Notes : This is your fault @fictionfordays 🤤

Banner by @/cafekitsune

Masterlist|Second Masterlist

_ "Cut it out already, can't you see I'm a little busy at the moment?" and he wasn't even looking up from his phone as he groaned his displeasure with your advances.

_ "But I'm bored! And you've been playing that stupid game for hours now." your whines were falling on deaf ears as he ignored you completely to get back to the mission ahead.

You sat up, crossing your arms over your chest and pouting in disapproval, how could he possibly focus on anything else after you've put in the effort to look irresistible to him? Was he truly unaware of your intentions? Even after crawling on top of him in a new sexy lingerie set that hugged your luscious body perfectly? Or did the phone glued to his face absorb the last few brain cells he had left?

No matter the reason, you've never been one to give in easily, and so..

_ "Alright do as you wish sweetheart, play your game, and I'll play mine." the smirk lacing your words was invisible to him, and the mindless "uh-huh" spilling from his lips, proved that he wasn't even listening.

You studied his sprawled out frame once more; comfortably sinking into the plush mattress underneath himself while crumpling the soft bedsheets with each little move he made.

Your eyes lingered on his bare flexing pecs, pale skin covering the protruding muscles beneath, and pink perky nipples begging to be touched.

You bit back a threatening moan as your gaze traveled down to his yet meek bulge, knowing all too well that one small caress would be enough to bring it to life.

However, he was clearly playing hard to get, so why not see how long he could resist?

You positioned yourself on his soft cock, neglecting the flimsy fabric of both undergarments separating you, and relishing the sudden flinch escaping him when you slowly rolled your hips.

_ "Y.. you're going to make me lose." his resolve was clearly faltering against your approaches, but his eyes were still fixed on the video game ahead.

_ "Oh I'm sorry love, I'll be more careful." you feigned innocence as soft giggles escaped your throat, placing your palms flat on his firm abdomen and trailing them up until you reached his chiseled bust.

You licked your lips and clutched onto the bulging muscles, giving him one teasing squeeze before relaxing your hold again.

Nothing yet, except for a suspicious tremble appearing under your fingertips. It was undeniably working.

You ran a finger along the deep valley of his chest, rolling your hips slowly on his awakening cock and smirking victoriously as he failed to conceal a frustrated groan.

_ "If I lose.. damnit.. I'll make you pay." he hissed gloomily, fingers still tapping away on his phone's screen while his body was getting more and more restless underneath you.

Any other person would be terrified hearing the symbol of fear rasping those words, but not you.

_ "We'll see about that Tenko." yes, definitely not you.

Your hands groped his godly breasts once more, kneading his flesh greedily before leaning in to lick a perfect stripe leading to his quivering throat where you sucked a bright mark.

_ "Fuck.." the word vibrated under your lips as it left him, and you were uncertain if it was due to your actions or the mobile game he was invested in. Regardless, you were having loads of fun on your own.

Your wet kisses traveled downward to join your hands and cover every inch of delicious skin encountered, you were eager –starved even– as your warm tongue sneaked out to flick on his cherry blossom pink teats.

Your hips moved a little faster on top of him, and your giggles resonated across the dimly lit room when he shallowly met your thrusts.

_ "Seems like I'm winning." you slurred between soft nibbles on his plumpness, peering under your lashes to witness the whitening knuckles as he gripped the device tighter.

He was fully erect by then, you could tell –you can always tell– and it was only a matter of moments for him to drop the pathetic charade and give you the attention you so much craved.

Your warm greedy maw engulfed one of his nipples, sucking on the hard nub like a thirsty little kitten while your fingers played with the other; flicking, pinching, ranking your nails over the prickled skin until he no longer could keep his aloofness.

You weren't done though, disregarding the hand leaving his phone to grip your hair as you switched your teasing mouth to the other teat. But all of a sudden, an alarming sound flared up to replace the rhythmic tunes of the game and announce your man's failed mission to clear the level..

_ "Alright, that's it!" was all he snarled out before placing the gadget onto the bedside table and grabbing your hips roughly to roll you on your back and hover over your stunned frame.

You blinked in pure confusion, striving to wrap your head around the swift change of your positions as his looming figure sent shivers down your spine.

_ "I warned you didn't I?" he did, and it was time for you to receive a proper punishment.

He gripped the back of your knees and spread your legs apart, his crimson irises blazed with fervent emotions that you could not pinpoint, while yours shamelessly ogled the conspicuous damp spot on his boxer briefs, wondering if it was your creation or his, and maybe –just maybe– it was a little bit of both.

You gripped the rumpled bedsheets and braced yourself for what was coming as he hastily tucked your legs up and pressed them to your reddening ears, "that's better.." he chuckled darkly before lowering his underwear just enough for his rock hard shaft to spring back against his abdomen, a heavenly sight that forced your cunt to squeeze around nothing.

Your longing for him was clear as day, and his gleaming eyes held an intense desire as he glanced at you once more while pushing your panties to the side, before smearing the leaking head over your sensitive folds and finally easing himself into your welcoming heat.

Your eyes rolled back in absolute ecstasy, and his name left your lips in a broken murmur as he stretched you perfectly around him.

He gave you no chance to adjust, retrieving his length until only the tip was sheathed within you, before slamming his hips mercilessly against your own.

His pace was unforgiving from the get go, grazing your insides deliciously with every deep thrust he delivered.

_ "Eyes on me angel, show me that beautiful face of yours, come on." he demanded huskily, tightening his grip on your legs and pushing them further against your chest.

His strikes were deeper and harsher from that position, filling your senses with a pleasurable pain you so much adored.

You weren't going to last much longer and neither was he, your earlier teasing and playful behavior had lead you both closer to a certain release, "Tenko, don't stop!" and he didn't, pounding even harder into your core while chanting your name like a mantra.

Your heart hammered in your chest and a thrilling heat pooled in the pit of your belly as he pushed you roughly into the mattress, his bruising clutches and erratic hips announcing his own imminent orgasm.

_ "I'm cumming! I'm cumming! Tenko please!" you tensed up beneath him as you mewled a warning, bracing yourself for the inevitable shockwaves of pleasure that washed over you only a moment afterwards, and whimpering unintelligibly as you spasmed violently and gushed all over yourself and him, soaking the two of you in a clear warm spurt before going limp underneath his persistent thrusts.

_ "Amazing.." his eyes traveled between your spent body and the mess between yourselves, clenching his jaw and panting breathlessly while the obscene sloshing noises intensified as he ground on you, "fuck! I'm cumming too!"

You shakily grabbed on to his veiny arms and dug your nails into his pale skin, wordlessly pleading with him not to pull out before spilling every last drop inside of you, and thanking the heavens when he ultimately understood.

_ "I got it beautiful.. fuck.. I got it." a strained smirk appeared on his lips as he replied, sinking into your slippery cunt and kissing your cervix with every brutal snap of his hips, once.. twice.. thrice.. and then a final lunge before exuding his thick pearly load and coating your clenching gummy walls.

He finally pulled out of you, placing your tingly legs onto the stained bedsheets, and collapsing on top of you with a satisfied heave leaving his chest.

_ "We made a mess Tenko." your tired laughter stabbed at every fiber of your pained figure, but you were blissed out; being entangled with him while sharing a few joyful instances, forgetting everything outside of your room and pretending to be in a typical relationship with a typical man— even for a little while.. it was your own paradise.

_ "This was courtesy of you angel, and we'll have to do that again soon." a soft chuckle was lacing the muffled words tickling your shoulder, and a pair of eager lips trailed gentle kisses along your skin before nuzzling the curve of your neck.

Yes, your own paradise..

[f4ll-for-you]

Fade Into You | Rafe Cameron

Rafe x Reader Series Part 1

masterlist

mentions of drug abuse, parent death, addiction, hospitals

You’d spent over a week surrounded by the same four walls. Your pillow was constantly tear-stained and your heart felt like it would never put itself back together.

As a child, you never expected to live a life without a parent, without a mother. 

It had been so sudden. She wasn’t well and, within hours, you were in the hospital, being told your mother was gone.

You felt sick, like the world was crashing down on top of you, and that feeling hadn’t stopped for eight days.

Your dad had come to see you once or twice, looking just as bad as you felt. It only took one look into your eyes before he’d make an excuse to leave; he was unable to look at his daughter, a perfect replica of his wife. When he shipped you off to North Carolina, you assumed that was the reason he couldn’t even stand to have you around anymore.

Life had gone from perfect to awful in the space of a month and you hated every second of it. Secretly, you hoped that a change of scenery would help you forget, but if anything it made you feel even more alone. 

You were staying with your father’s close friend, Ward, who had visited over the years, always treated you with kindness and that hadn’t changed when you moved in. Rose had tried to care for you, but someone trying to act as a mother figure only hurt more, so you pushed her away.

Ward’s children didn’t think much of you. Wheezie was kind, but young and busy with her own life. Sarah was barely home, basically living on the other side of the island. She made it very clear that she didn’t think much of you. And then there was Rafe - he was the most tiring. At first, he’d barely spoken a word to you, just keeping an eye out for you, like his father had instructed. You quickly grew tired of him following you around without a word, which ended up with you accidentally taking all your pent-up emotions out on him. You shouted and screamed and cried, while he just stood there watching, not even making a move to comfort you. That only made you hate him more.

You’d taken a long walk on the beach to calm down, walking for hours without an end before a familiar scent passed you. You noticed it coming from a shack and made your way towards the figure sitting outside.

You attempted to seem confident as you walked over. frustratingly having no money in your pockets to pay for what you wanted, you hoped you could charm the dark-haired man.

“Hey, mind if I have some?” You asked, sitting down opposite him confidently.

The dark-haired man looked you up and down and smirked. He could see you were a kook. “Rafe's girl,” he commented before handing you the joint.

You tried to hide the shock in your face. Rafe had talked about you? And this guy knew him? “Um, not his girl,” you spoke sourly before bringing the joint to your lips. 

The first wave of escape rolled over you moments later, making you instantly crave more. “Do you think I could have one of my own?” You batted your eyelashes.

“Not without money, baby.”

“Rafe will pay you next time he sees you,” you lied, not giving a shit if Rafe got mad at you.t was your best excuse to get what you wanted right now.

“Fine, he better.”

You chatted with the guy, who you now knew was Barry, until the sun set. He offered to drop you off at home on his bike, but you declined, walking back to Figure Eight the same way you came. If you weren’t high, you would’ve been terrified, but right now, you don't care about anything, relishing in the feeling of nothingness.

When you returned to Tanyhill, Rafe was livid. “Where the fuck were you?!” He spoke with a raised voice as soon as you entered. 

“Fuck off Rafe,” was all you replied before heading up to your bedroom and locking the door. Not before he noticed your blown pupils and empty expression. 

You continued to see Barry every day from then on. You had a mutual agreement, you paid for the drugs and kept him company; he helped you hide from Rafe for a few hours each day. 

Barry worked while you chatted away at him, weighing the white powder into small baggies. You couldn’t help yourself when you asked for a line, he was reluctant at first, but you had the money and he was a businessman after all. 

Your routine continued for a month unnoticed, you’d told Ward and Rose you’d got a part-time job as a babysitter to give a decent excuse as to why you were out all day. They didn’t question it, just glad you were busy and seemed, on the surface, to be coping with the death of your mother.

Rafe wasn’t so easy to fool. He tried to follow you several times, questioning where you worked, and what the children’s names were. Each time he’d ask about your schedule you accused him of being nosey and he’d tell you he didn’t care as long as you weren’t causing trouble.

As summer turned into autumn, the evenings got darker and your walk home became more difficult. Usually, you were fine in your numb state, but when you’d arrived at Barry’s, he was nowhere to be found. 

All you could do was turn back, the repercussions of your addiction making you feel sick and exhausted, barely able to see as you walked.

You felt dazed when you saw headlights approaching, a familiar grumble filled your ears as Rafe's truck slowed down beside you. “Fuck,” you muttered, hurrying your pace as the engine shut off, trying to find another route off the road. 

“Y/N?” Rafe asked with a raised voice, trying to hide his confusion and concern. 

You needed to run, but you couldn’t. Everything washed over you all at once, your feet remaining glued to the ground as you collapsed. You didn’t realise you were crying until you let out a loud sob and a pair of arms wrapped around you.

Rafe didn’t say anything. In truth, he didn’t know what to say. He knew you weren’t alright and that broke his heart.

The signs had been there for weeks. He knew you were high all the time and he tried to speak to you about it, but as usual, he failed. He tried to convince himself he didn’t care. You were nothing to him and if you wanted to destroy yourself, then he’d let you get on with it. But he couldn’t, not when he knew exactly how you felt. How awful you have to feel to turn to drugs. How losing a parent breaks you in two. He cared about you and he hated it.

thank you to my beta readers @cameronspecial @amiraisgoingthruit @arcielee - ilysm🤍

[cinnamongorll]

a fragile line - chapter 17

read on ao3! (111k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Fic synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 5k

Chapter 17: 'Nothing Fucks With My Baby (NFWMB)'

The following afternoon, approaching Juliet’s old community. 

Joel's POV:

Joel was familiar with the spark of awareness that spread across his skin when a gun was trained on him. The burning feeling that flashed down his arms, the tightening of his muscles, the ire that wrapped around his heart, squeezing tight. Joel welcomed that feeling; he craved it sometimes. The adrenaline that shot through his bloodstream, sharpening his mind, strengthening his body, and then he would move: disabling those who shot at him, or shooting back. Whether it was the sick crunch of their necks, at the cold mercy of his arms, or a bullet through their skulls, Joel would do the job. He would stand over his latest killing, breathing heavy, as he relished in the stillness of their chests and the knowledge that he would live another day. 

Joel was never afraid of staring down the barrel of another’s gun, not until Juliet. 

Four men stood before them, each holding up a shotgun. They were quick, quicker than Joel had expected when he noticed the watchtower over the edge of the fence. Seconds later, they had opened the gate and circled Joel and Juliet like wild cattle. Joel had grabbed Juliet’s arm and pulled her behind him, his gut twisting when he couldn’t protect her from every angle the men had positioned themselves in. The adrenaline had started to pound through his body, the roar of blood rusher in his ears as his fingers pressed deeper into Juliet’s arm. Her head whipped around them, the loose waves of her dark hair smacked against the arm of his jacket. Joel knew he had to do something, had to think of some way to defend her, to keep her safe. But they were out of ammo and outnumbered. With Juliet’s body pressed against his, his usual confidence was gone, fear was now his most prominent emotion. 

“Don’t move!” one of the men shouted, he was tall with ginger hair, almost covered by the dark hood he wore. 

Joel had to say something, explain that they didn’t want any trouble, that this was some misunderstanding. He had assumed they would recognise Juliet but the men in front of him only had a cold hunger in their eyes. For more than just their blood, Joel thought, going by the frailness of their bodies. 

“Stop!” a voice cried out, “It’s me, It’s Juliet!”

Joel’s head turned to the woman pressed against his back. All four of the men froze, their creeping movements forward paused as their eyes scanned Juliet’s body from head to toe. Seconds later, recognition flared in their eyes. 

“Juliet?” the ginger one gasped out, his eyebrows pinched together as his hands unconsciously began to lower his shotgun. The other men followed his actions, peering closer at Juliet. 

She pulled away from Joel, putting at least a foot between them. That sick feeling in his gut worsened, he wanted desperately to pull her back against him, to wrap her in his arms, throw her over his shoulder and get the hell out of here. For what was supposed to be a homecoming for Juliet, she looked undeniably terrified. But she was still the woman he knew, so Juliet straightened her back, wiped her expression of any fear and transformed her mouth into a relieved smile.

“Thank god we made it,” she gasped, her voice pitched higher than usual. “Thought we’d be in that forest forever,” Juliet continued, laughing as she spoke.

Juliet had this unique ability to camouflage herself. He hadn’t noticed it back in the QZ, when he would watch her from a distance throughout their shifts together, listening to the conversations she had with other workers. But journeying across the country together, just the two of them… Joel had a front row seat to the several masks Juliet carried with her. When they had run into those men in the supermarket: she became this ruthless killer, practically begging to kill the men who had kidnapped that girl. Back at the gas station, Joel blinked and Juliet had become Blake’s loyal servant, giggling and fluttering her eyelashes. 

And the night before, when he had her pressed against that tree, watching as the cruel motions of pain, regret and terror had rippled in her eyes… Joel watched as Juliet lied to his face. 

She had promised him that this place was safe, ‘the safest place for her,’ she had said. But Joel had watched that mask fall over her features, he had watched the sparkling light go out in her eyes as her voice numbly uttered those words. 

“Fuck , Juliet,” one of the other men drawled, shaking Joel from his thoughts. “Thought you were dead,” he said, shock flickered across his face as he, too, lowered his shotgun.

Joel stiffened, more pieces added to the never ending puzzle of Juliet’s life. 

Juliet shrugged and raised her arms, a picture of cool indifference. “Guess not,” she replied with a small smile, then her eyes quickly lifted to Joel’s face.

Joel’s eyes bore into her, she blinked and looked away.

The men dotted around them were shocked, not by her words, but by her attitude. Their eyes slowly trailed down her body to her hands now perched on her hips. When their gazes eventually made their way back up to her face, the men’s eyes had an appreciative glaze coating them, like they were looking at something appetising.

Joel wanted to rip their eyes from their skulls. 

Juliet shifted under their intense stare, moving her arms across her chest. “My father’s expecting me,” she announced, lifting her chin. 

At the mention of her father, the men stood up straighter, like a barrel of water had been tossed over their heads. They glanced at each other, a couple of them nodding towards the fence, passing an excruciatingly silent conversation between them. Joel’s hand curled with unrestrained rage. When he didn’t know what was happening, when he didn’t know how to protect Juliet, Joel always turned to anger. 

Joel stepped closer to Juliet, his hand hovering over her shoulder. It looked like he was claiming her, asserting some connection to her. 

The men noticed his movement, and the scowl that covered his mouth. The ginger one nodded down to Juliet. “Who’s this guy?” he asked, as if he had only now noticed him next to her. 

Before Joel could answer, Juliet fortified her masked expression then pointed her thumb towards Joel.

“Oh, this is Joel,” she answered, “he got me here in one piece in exchange for some supplies.”

The men looked at each other, their eyebrows raised. 

“That right?” the ginger one questioned. 

“That’s right,” Juliet said, stepping closer to the hooded man. Joel had to fight his arm to not grab hold of her and drag her back to him. 

“I know my father would do anything for my safe return, so you will get this man whatever he would like,” she ordered, tilting her head to the side with a cunning smile.

The ginger one swallowed and stepped back again, nodding to the men on his right. Joel followed his gaze as two of them headed back to the fence.

“Alright,” he agreed. “But we gotta search you first, no weapons inside the fence.”

Joel had expected this, he was out of ammo anyway, but he wasn’t about to lose his knife. Juliet had assured him this place was safe, that she would be safe here, but he’d yet to see any proof. He eyed her, waiting to see how she would react to the man’s orders. Joel was following Juliet’s lead here. 

She turned her head towards Joel, titling her chin down in a firm nod while avoiding his eyes. Joel swallowed, clenching his teeth, as he pulled his backpack off his shoulder and started to pull out his weapons. One of the men came to stand before him, his hand outstretched expectantly. 

Joel pushed his gun into the man’s hand, then dropped his bag to the ground to be searched. 

When he turned towards Juliet, he almost lost it.

She stood tall with her arms above her head as the ginger one patted her down, his hands roaming down to her waist. Every muscle in Joel’s body locked up and he had to force himself to not pull his knife out. When his hands began to roam down her legs, Joel had had enough.

“Watch it,” Joel growled, his voice lethal. The man’s movements halted before he reached Juliet’s ankle. His hands left her body and he turned towards Joel, ready to give him an earful about the rules of the community, but his smug smile disappeared the second he met the fury burning in Joel’s eyes. 

The man straightened, picked up his gun from the ground, and took two steps back from Juliet. 

Joel didn’t break his stare, even as the other man began to pat him down. Their technique was severely lacking because he clearly missed the knife in his inside pocket. When he was done, he turned back to the ginger one and nodded. “They’re good.”

The ginger one turned his body towards the fence, then nodded back at the other man. “Let’s get them to Elijah,” he said.

His words made Joel stiffen, there was something menacing about their tone. Nothing about this felt right, nothing about this whole situation felt like a daughter returning home to her loving father. Elijah’s name fell from the man’s lips like a warning. Joel was growing uneasy. 

Juliet had started to move forward, slowly following the men towards the fence. Her footsteps were stilted, her posture tight. 

When she realised Joel wasn’t following, she turned towards him and pulled her lifeless gaze up to meet his intense stare. Behind his dark eyes, Joel’s mind was buzzing with indecision. He could take her away from here; he was coming to realise that he would go anywhere, take her anywhere, as long as she could be by his side. But that wasn’t his decision to make, and they had a deal. He curled his hands into fists as his jaw tightened. 

Juliet’s eyebrows furrowed, her mouth opening and closing as she considered what to say. Then she swallowed and shook her head, the movement subtle. “It’ll be okay,” she said with a small smile which didn’t reach her eyes. Her voice was almost a whisper but her words screamed in Joel's ears, raising the hairs on his arms, tightening his already tense jaw. 

Joel moved forward, his hand outstretched. He didn’t know what he was going to do but his heart was crying out for him to grab hold of her arm, pull her back to his side and run.

The fence ahead of them could have been the fiery gates of hell from Juliet’s haunted expression. 

But just as his feet began to creep towards her, a voice called out.

“Come on!” the ginger one shouted, standing beside the other man at the open gate. His words made Juliet jump and her eyes pulled away from Joel’s. Joel had stopped moving, now standing still beside her. He looked down at Juliet, searching her face for a hint of indecision, for a sign that she was unhappy with her choice to return home. He wouldn’t take her unwillingly, but with one desperate word from her lips, he would steer her away from his place. 

She said nothing more. Joel watched as Juliet straightened, running her trembling hands over the straps of her backpack, and started walking towards the fence, quicker this time. Her feet moved with a new, desperate urgency. 

That feeling in Joel’s gut was almost unbearable, it felt like a combination of every time he was forced to watch tears fill Juliet’s eyes, when he had to see her in pain. Joel followed her retreating steps, then he began to move quicker, hastening his stride to catch up with her. 

He would follow her anywhere, even for the last time. 

…………………………………………………………………………….

Juliet’s community was a ghost town.

As they walked down the street, flanked by the two men, Joel could only hear the sounds of their footsteps hitting the cracked concrete. Every house they passed was silent, there was no sound of laughter, no conversations drifting in the wind. Joel would have thought they were empty, if he hadn’t noticed the occasional twitch at a curtain. When his eyes would follow the movement, the curtain immediately fell. These people were scared. Of him? Or was it something else? Someone else? 

He glanced at Juliet as they walked side by side, his gaze drifted over her face, searching for any hint that she, too, was shocked by the town’s emptiness. He found nothing in her expression, her face was tight as she stared ahead. She didn’t look around, didn’t move her head at all. Her steps even unconsciously moved around the larger cracks in the road.

Juliet knew exactly where she was, and exactly where she was headed. 

With every step, Joel’s hands clenched tighter into fists, his knuckles growing a stark white against his tanned skin. His anger was simmering on his skin, waiting for something to happen, waiting for an opportunity to release the fear that boiled inside him.

He was getting really sick of the two idiots beside them. They weren’t prisoners, this was Juliet’s home, they didn’t need escorts. 

Another five minutes passed as they made their way through the haunted streets. Joel noticed that Juliet’s steps began to slow. Her gaze was still locked in front of her, but her body had visibly tensed. Joel’s head turned, searching for a threat as he moved closer to Juliet. Seconds later, the loud screech of a rusted hinge cut through the eerie silence as a door swung open. Joel’s eyes followed Juliet’s wide stare to the house at the end of the street. 

An older man stepped through the front door, the wood was cracked and the remaining blue paint was almost completely faded. He was followed close behind by the other two men they had met at the fence. Joel watched as Juliet’s entire body flinched.

When they reached the house, they stopped. Joel and Juliet were now surrounded by the four men and the new figure who had begun to stride down the porch steps to greet them.

The first thing Joel noticed was his stare. His eyes ran over Joel, a flicker of confusion darting across his face before his piercing gaze landed on Juliet. The man didn’t appear surprised to see her, instead, for a brief moment, he almost looked enraged, like the sight of her had triggered some habitual response. It was gone as quick as it appeared, and the older man’s features morphed into a combination of relief, shock, and delight. His eyes lit up as he scanned Juliet from head to toe. 

“Juliet, you’ve returned!” he choked out, before striding down the remaining steps and heading towards her. His arms were outstretched, ready to wrap around her. 

When he was just a few steps away, Joel moved, stepping in front of Juliet. The man, Elijah, Joel presumed, staggered to a stop. Joel hadn’t meant to interrupt this reunion but every protective instinct he had for Juliet kicked into gear. His thoughts had faded to a dull murmur in his head, Joel’s every action was driven by pure instinct, that gut feeling had forced his feet to move, to shield Juliet. Still, a distant part of his brain wondered why he felt this way? Why was he so determined to protect Juliet? Why was it so hard to let go?

Joel buried that thought deep in his head, and shifted his stance, ready to face whatever Elijah would send his way. He couldn’t think about why, all he knew was that Juliet was under his protection right up until the last second of their time together. And this man didn’t look unwell, didn’t look like he was at all close to death as Juliet had made him out to be. Her story was unravelling with every second they spent in this town. 

Elijah’s eyes trailed over Joel, raising his head to scan Joel’s fierce expression, and tilting his chin to examine him right down to his worn boots. Joel didn’t flinch, he returned an equally weighted stare, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes dark. 

Juliet was strangely silent, she made no move to step around Joel or greet her dad. Joel was right: something was really off about this. Before Joel could turn to her, to assess her expression and try to form some kind of plan in his head, Elijah broke the tense silence.

“Julietttt,” he called, in an almost musical tone, tilting his head to see beyond Joel’s hulking form. “Who is this?” Elijah asked softly, moving his hands behind his back in a stance of pure apathy. His men had begun to move closer, Joel noticed their hands twitching towards the guns hanging from their shoulders. Their eyes kept darting to Elijah like they were waiting for some signal. Joel only had his knife and he wasn’t stupid enough to think he could go against four young men with a shotgun each, and whatever Elijah had on him. Joel had to be smart about this.

But Joel didn’t get a chance to think, to plan, because a second later, Juliet stepped out from behind him and walked straight up to her father. She looked confident, happy even to see her father after such a long time, a quiet smile had graced her mouth. But Joel saw the slight falter in her steps and the tremble of her fingers as she wrapped them around the straps on her shoulders. 

“Joel got me here, I’ve promised him weapons, food and a vehicle for my safe return,” Juliet said, her voice clear and authoritative. “I told him about your generosity, father, I hope this is alright?” she added, a slight quiver forming in her words. 

If Elijah was surprised at all, or angered by her request, he didn’t show it. Instead, a smile overtook his mouth and he nodded firmly. “Of course!” he declared, and turned to face Joel. His grin didn’t falter as his pale eyes met Joel’s dark gaze. “Thank you, Joel, for returning my daughter to me,” he said, but the smile that marked his face didn’t reach his cold eyes. 

Joel tried to catch Juliet’s eye but it was obvious her mind was far beyond his reach. Her eyes were vacant, another mask had veiled her true feelings. Or maybe this was her true reaction, maybe there really wasn’t anything to fear. Joel had judged the community by its barren appearance, but it didn’t look dangerous, there were no outward threats that he could find, just a lingering feeling of dread.  

Joel nodded, and clenched his teeth so hard he thought he’d chip a tooth as he watched Elijah step forward and wrap his arms around Juliet. At first, Juliet’s entire body froze but, after a second, her arms reached up, returning the embrace. Joel had to look away. 

When they pulled away from each other, Joel noticed that Elijah kept a firm grip on Juliet’s arm. 

“James, Sean, take Joel to the armoury and let him take his pick. We have more than enough to spare,” Elijah ordered, turning to two of the men. They looked pissed.

“You can stay here tonight, if you wish, we wouldn’t send a fellow survivor out into the dark,” Elijah added, with a laugh. “There is a room above the bar, James and Sean will show you.” 

Joel hadn’t even noticed the night approaching, he was too preoccupied with watching every flicker of emotion that crossed Juliet’s face. Juliet was staring at him now, waiting to see what his answer would be. Joel’s eyes drifted down to Elijah’s fingers circling her wrist, his firm grip tightened when he noticed Joel’s attention. 

That simmer of rage began to burn, there was an inferno swirling within him now, desperate for an outlet. But he had no right, there was no concrete proof that this place was unsafe. It was creepy, yes, but Juliet had given him no indication that she needed saving. Joel would respect that, but he still searched her eyes, looking for a hint of fear behind the vacant mask she wore. 

Joel realised they were waiting on his answer and he nodded, his chin dipping in one hard movement. He would stick around tonight, make sure he could stomach leaving her here. 

“Fantastic,” Elijah said, his smile subtly shifting to a grimace as he turned to Juliet. “Shall we, my sweet Juliet,” he drawled, moving to tug her towards the house. At the sound of his endearment towards her, Juliet‘s whole body flinched. She looked like she had been slapped across the face. For one brief moment, her mask slipped, and Joel saw a spark of terror in her eyes.

“Stop,” Joel called, his eyes didn’t leave Juliet. 

“Yes?” Elijah asked, turning back towards him, one eyebrow raised. 

Joel ground his jaw, hard. “I wanna say goodbye,” he answered, his voice like steel as he tilted his head towards Juliet. 

The look in Elijah’s eyes was murderous, but his grin didn’t falter. He shrugged and released his grip on Juliet's arm, one tight finger at a time. Joel finally allowed himself to take a deep breath. 

Juliet walked over to him, her steps were slow. When she reached him, Joel titled his head down towards her, his eyes scanning her face. After a moment, he saw something thaw in her cool stare. Joel could feel Elijah’s eyes on them, so he kept his voice low. “Thought you said your dad was sick?” he asked quietly. 

Juliet bit her lip. The movement startled Joel, his gaze flickered down to her mouth, then back up to the deep brown of her eyes. “He is,” Juliet insisted as she shifted on her feet, then crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Just say the word and we can go,” Joel stated, his words barely legible as he struggled to keep his voice low and his rage contained. Juliet looked shocked, her eyebrows pinched together as he stared up at him. “I -” she started, then stopped herself and turned to glance at her dad. When her gaze returned to Joel, she swallowed and shifted her arms, tightening her hold on herself. “Thank you, Joel. For everything,” she whispered and squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, her eyes had turned glossy. “I’m home now… go find your brother,” Juliet murmured with the gentle curve of a smile, then uncrossed her arms and reached her hand down to Joel’s. Her small hand slid over his rough fingers and squeezed… then she was gone. 

Before Joel could even blink, Juliet had slipped away, her quick steps striding back over to Elijah. Joel could still feel the heat from her touch on his skin as he watched Elijah grip her shoulder and lead her up the steps towards the large house. The wood had rotted in multiple places and some windows were entirely frosted. It took every ounce of his control to not follow her, not run after them and rip her from her father’s grip. Joel resisted every primal instinct screaming within him. 

“Let’s go,” one of the men, James or Sean, said to him as they walked past Joel’s frozen form. “Armoury’s this way.”

Joel felt himself nod, but he couldn’t look away from that house. The rage trapped inside him had transformed into ice. Glacial shock now flowed through him, stiffening his muscles, piercing his heart. 

“Now or never,” the voice called again, shaking Joel from his trance. He turned, finally pulling his eyes away from the old house. He rubbed a hand over his jaw and nodded at the men.

As they made their way down the darkening street, leaves crunching underfoot, Joel couldn’t help but feel that he was walking away from a part of himself he hadn’t even realised still existed after so many years surviving in the wasteland of this world. 

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

About an hour later, after they showed Joel his gifted supplies (which he would collect in the morning), James and Sean led Joel to the town’s ‘bar’.

Joel didn’t agree with that term.

What he stepped into was the renovated bottom floor of a decrepit building which appeared to be the remains of an old store. It was dull, the only light came from hanging bulbs in a few areas of the room. The back wall was shelved with rows and rows of bottles of varying size and colour behind a long counter and mismatched stools. The rest of the room was filled with an odd mix of tables and chairs. Joel was surprised to see most of them filled. This was where everyone was, apparently. 

Eyes followed him as he walked through the room, towards the man tending the bar at the back wall. Voices hushed and fingers pointed, but Joel ignored it all. Once he was seated on one of the stools, his near empty backpack on the floor, Joel leaned forward and dropped his head into his hands. The murmurs had picked up again and Joel allowed the noise to drown out the screaming thoughts inside his head. When the bartender approached, Joel ordered a whiskey with the intention of numbing that twisting feeling in his chest. 

The bartender eyed him with confusion but Joel wasn’t going to explain his presence, let them all be wary of him, he thought. Joel was afraid he would start punching if someone got too close to him right now, if someone tried to ask him why he was here. 

A glass of whiskey was slid over to him and Joel downed it in seconds, his head tilted back as the cold glass grazed his lips and the hot burning liquid poured down his throat. 

The glass hit the table with a thud when he brought it back down, his hand gripped it tight. Joel was tempted to see how much force he could apply before it began to shatter. He would welcome the pain, he craved a distraction from the turmoil raging inside him. 

Joel contemplated a second drink, maybe if he kept drinking it would keep him from stalking over to Juliet’s house and throwing her over his shoulder. 

Just as he began to gesture towards the bartender, the man’s face dropped in shock. His mouth hung open and his eyes widened as he stared over Joel’s shoulder. Joel raised his eyebrows, and moved to turn, searching for whatever had spooked him. 

At that moment, Joel noticed a man striding towards him, pushing his way through the many patrons. He was young, probably around Juliet’s age, his hair was slicked back behind his ears and murder danced in his eyes. Joel stood, bracing himself as the young man marched straight for him. 

“This him?” the man barked towards the bartender, as he continued to eye Joel. The bartender stood with wide eyes, but he managed a nod in response. Joel’s eyes flickered between the both of them as he shifted his stance, subtly moving his feet into a fighting position while the young man took those last few steps towards him. A second later, the younger man threw himself at Joel, gripping his shoulder with one hand and pulling the other back to land a punch. He didn’t succeed, Joel growled and caught the man’s hand in his fist, twisting it at an unnatural angle and pulling it behind him. Before the man could retaliate, Joel had both of his hands pinned behind his back and he pulled him against his chest. Joel was breathing heavy as the man continued to struggle in his grip, he was no match for the strength Joel possessed. 

Some men in the bar had stood up, their chairs scraping against the floor while they watched, but no one moved to help. At once, murmurs started to travel through the bar as the men pointed, not towards Joel this time, but towards the man restrained against him. 

“You’ve killed her,” the man in his arms began to hiss. “You fucker, you’ve killed her.”  

Whatever buzz the whiskey had given Joel was completely gone. 

The bartender finally awoke from whatever shocked daze he was held in and he caught Joel’s eye. “Bring him this way,” he instructed, moving towards a door along the side of the back wall. 

Joel snarled and gripped the man tighter, ignoring the words he gasped out, and pulled him through the door after the bartender. 

When they entered the backroom, the bartender pulled the man free from Joel’s grip and pinned him against the wall. Joel staggered back, gasping out a ragged breath. “The hell you talkin’ about?” he demanded, facing the young man now held against the wall.  

“Juliet,” the young man gasped. “You’ve killed her.” 

Joel swore he saw red flash across his vision. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife as he stalked closer to the man. He had stopped struggling, falling limp in the bartender’s grip. As Joel got a better look at him, he finally noticed his appearance. The man’s face was gaunt, purple circles darkened the skin under his eyes, and his hair hung limp over his face, the greasy strands no longer tucked behind his ears. 

“If you don’t start explainin’ right fucking now, this is goin’ in your throat,” Joel growled, lifting his knife to make his point. The man pressed himself harder against the wall behind him and swallowed rough. 

“Who the hell are you?” Joel demanded when the man didn’t instantly answer, his voice low and steady as he ran his thumb over the knife’s edge. 

The man stared back, his eyes burned with a terror similar to what was churning inside Joel.

“I’m Ethan,” he croaked out, then squeezed his eyes shut and let out a long breath, before opening his eyes back into Joel’s dark gaze. “Juliet’s boyfriend.” 

Joel’s entire body tensed, he almost dropped the knife in his hand. But Ethan wasn’t finished, he inhaled another breath, licked his lips, then swallowed again. 

“And you’ve signed her death sentence bringing her back here,” he spat, venom dripping from his words.

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

@amyispxnk @shotgun-shelby @http-paprika

[talaok]

Forgotten love

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Summary: just a blurb about Joel realizing he loves you.

warnings: none just fluff

Forgetting is easy,

They say that when you haven't felt something in a long time you will think you never did.

And Joel, well Joel never thought of himself as someone capable of forgetting, 

partially, because it was true, he didn't, there were things that had happened to him, things so deep and painful that had scarred him forever, a constant buzz in his every day, that he was never gonna forget.

Not a second of them.

because he didn't want to,

the pain,

the rage,

as awful as they were,

they were all he had left,

if not the foggy glimpses he'd recall of his dreams, 

if not the broken watch on his wrist,

if not the distant sound of Sarah's laugh.

He didn't forget,

He didn't let go,

He didn't forgive, not himself, not the world

because he was scared,

scared that if he did, if he did let go of the pain, if he did attempt, at least, to open, to try, really try, then he would lose the mere scraps he still had, the ones he had guarded and protected with everything he could.

But there was one thing Joel hadn't realized, or maybe he had, but decided that it would have only been fair,

and that was, that guarding those scaps, those little sharp fragments, he had yes, saved them, preserved them, and hid them from the world for only him to see, him to relish,

but he had also lost,

he had saved pieces of others, of his past, and traded them with ones of himself,

of his future,

of his present.

Because protecting for him meant not taking any risks, and to someone like Joel, to someone who'd seen as many things as he had, 

everything was a risk,

one he wasn't willing to take,

if it meant losing the glimpses, the scraps,

the ashes.

But now, something was happening inside of him, a sort of rebellion of his own mind, of his own soul, both fighting, fighting to wake him up, to shake him and let him see, really see,

that what had happened,

what he had done,

what he remembers,

isn't all he can be,

isn't all he can allow himself to have,

to live.

And he was terrified, his heart had been beating faster and faster as the realization hit him slowly,

the culmination that he, perhaps, wasn't gonna be able to stop this, to prevent this from happening, because maybe, for once, he didn't want to.

"When you haven't felt something in a long time you will think you never did"

He had spent so much time fighting to not forget the pain, the misery, that he had forgotten the good,

because all that old happiness, that joy, was bitter now on his tongue, undeserved, just a reminder of what he had, and could never have again,

and so he had chosen to let it fall behind, purposely never letting himself look back at it,

because for some reason,

it hurt more than the pain, the real, raw pain of losing someone, of losing everyone,

because the pain was easy,

the pain was good,

he knew pain,

it had been with him his whole life,

but the happiness?

He didn't know her

It scared him, terrified even,

because it was stronger, more powerful, more venomous,

It had made him discover what life could have been like, how good it could be, just to disappear, leaving a black hole inside of him,

one he had decided to fill with pain,

because at least that had never failed him,

pain was predictable,

always the same,

but joy was a demon wrapped in silk,

beautiful of course,

but a much more dangerous creature.

But as much as he had averted it, it still found a way to creep back into his life,

because of you.

And so now, as he stared at your peacefully sleeping self, your face only lit by the moon's glow emanating through his window,

he was scared,

because you had done it,

as much as he had begged and made it hard, 

you had destroyed the barriers,

destroyed everything,

until nothing was left, if not him, only him, and the scraps he took with him.

he felt naked in front of you,

because he knew you could understand everything, see everything.

But most of all,

he felt happy.

A happiness, he was undeserving of, one he was sure he'd never meet again, one that for the first time in years, made him feel less empty, filling the black hole in his stomach not with bad, but with something that could only be defined with one simple, frightening word,

Love

Love was what he'd forgotten about,

love was fear,

Love was risk

Love was you,

And as he smiled into the air,

he found himself wondering if surrendering was all left for him to do,

surrender to love,

surrender to fear,

surrender to you.

[jesterwriting]

pairing: crocodile x reader

contains: smut, fingering, slight smoking kink, marking, crocodile puts out his cigars on you at your request, soft crocodile, use of good boy

word count: 1.1k words

“Is this really what you want?”

Crocodile towered over you and you fought the urge to shiver under his intense stare. A part of you always wondered if the coat he always wore made him look bigger than he was. Now that you were at his mercy, his coat hung over the back of a plush armchair ten paces to the right of the bed, you were under no illusions that that was true. Sir Crocodile was a naturally imposing man. His hook, his scar, his cold eyes and large hand that could easily fit around your throat, all of it was a part of the terrifying man in front of you. And you loved every bit of him for it.

Crocodile tapped your cheek, breaking you from your reverie. His rings were hard against your skin. Tonight would be the first time Crocodile would see you naked, and after what you had planned, you knew it wouldn’t be the last. This would be special. You would make sure of it.

You met his eyes and smiled. His gaze softened at that as his thumb rubbed gentle circles against your skin. “Yes. I want this. I’ve wanted this for a long time. Are you okay with it?”

Crocodile leaned down until his lips brushed against the side of your head. He kissed the shell of your ear before he whispered, “Why would I need to mark you when you’re already mine?”

“Words can be broken, scars are forever,” You replied as you traced his collarbone with the tips of your fingers.

Crocodile hummed, neither agreeing or disagreeing, only acknowledging that you spoke. “I can’t say I don’t find the idea attractive.”

With one last questioning glance in your direction, he sat on the bed and raised his cigar to his lips. With a flick of his lighter it was lit, cherry burning bright in the dim bedroom. You watched him take a deep inhale before he exhaled the smoke directly into your face. You greedily inhaled the scent, relishing in the idea of what was once inside him was inside you now.

“Strip,” He commanded, gaze heavy.

You grinned and pulled your shirt over your head. Excitement made you giddy, so focused on the idea of Crocodile marking you that you hardly had time to feel nervous about getting naked in front of him in the first place. Shuffling out of your pants, you laid yourself bare in front of him. Crocodile eyed you hungrily, devouring you with a single look. A flush burned your skin as you smiled nervously up at him, fighting the instinct to cover yourself.

“Do I look okay?”

Crocodile ran his hook along your jaw then down your chest where he let it rest on your thigh. The metal was cold and you shivered against it.

“Beautiful,” He murmured. Crocodile watched your eyes settle on his cigar with barely concealed desire. He raised an eyebrow, smirking down at you. “You’ll look even better once I’m through with you.”

You let out a sigh as Crocodile ran his hand down your chest and along your stomach. With his hook on one leg, his hand on the other, he pushed your thighs apart revealing your already wet sex. He chuckled as he ran a finger through your folds.

“So wet already. You must really want this.”

“I do,” You said, breathless.

After a final drag, Crocodile took his cigar from his lips and hovered it over your thigh. The heat from the close proximity made goosebumps erupt across your body. You shivered in anticipation. Without warning, he ground the cherry into the soft skin of your inner thigh. You gasped, back arching as white hot pleasure lanced straight to your core.

“Fuck!”

After three seconds, Crocodile lifted the cigar from your leg leaving a bright red wound. He brushed his thumb against it and you let out a yelp.

“You want more?” Crocodile was flushed and breathing heavily. You glanced down to see a noticeable bulge in his pants, much larger than you anticipated. It only served to make you wetter. You slid your fingers along the hem of his pants and towards his waistband, only for Crocodile to grab your wrist. His thumb traced a circle on your pulse point. “No, this is about you.”

You nodded, eyes half-lidded as you stared at the burnt out cigar dangling between his fingers. “Please.”

Crocodile ran his index finger against your burn, pressing slightly into it. A strangled moan tore from your throat as you writhed. “Please what?”

“Please, sir.”

“Good boy.”

You let out a sharp intake of breath when you heard the lighter click. The spiced scent of Crocodile’s cigar clouded your senses as a burst of pain erupted on your other thigh. You arched your back, pressing harder into the cigar with a cry. Your cunt pulsed hungrily, clenching on nothing as Crocodile removed the cigar and took a drag from it, filling the room with smoke. It was humiliating, but you could cum from this alone.

“Thank you, thank you.” Tears streamed down your cheeks as your fingers dipped between your thighs to find your clit.

Crocodile watched your desperation with amusement, languidly stroking himself through his pants. He chuckled. “You’re really thanking me for this?” With a grin, he traced a line on your chest with his finger, from under your nipple to above your belly button. “Let’s make this one a bit bigger.”

This time, when he pressed the cherry to your skin, Crocodile didn’t leave it in one place. Instead, he dragged it down the expanse of your chest, following the line he traced earlier as your clit throbbed against your palm. The pain was almost unbearable, deliciously mixing with pleasure until all you could do was babble and cry as you pistoned your fingers into your pussy. You were so close, but it wasn’t enough. With the cigar snuffed out, Crocodile replaced your hand with his own, fingers curling deep in your cunt. When he settled his cold hook against the still livid wound on your chest, you came with a scream. Stars erupted behind your eyes and your whole body tensed as you rode out your orgasm with high, keening whines.

With a heaving chest, you came down from your high. Crocodile stared down at you in barely concealed adoration, admiring his handiwork almost as much as you. You traced your new scars. This was it, physical proof of who you belonged to. A collar you could take off, a scar you would never be free of unless you carved the wounds off your body. Either way, you’d be mutilated and Crocodile would be the cause.

You let out a sigh as burn cream cooled your wounds, flopping back against the bed. Crocodile kissed the wound on your left thigh before rubbing cream into your skin, taking care of you exactly how he always did.

With reverence.

[dufferpuffer]

Ok ok...TELL ME YOUR HCS OF REMUS AS A DAD because I know he would've been the best dad <3333333 (although nervous and not so confident at first)

I have been WAITING to answer this ask hehehe These all go for Tonks and Teddy - or any partner and any kid, adopted or not. I wanted to keep it vague: Dad Remus: Father of a child.

Idk what this is... sort of a timeline of how I think Remus having a kid would go...? Take it or leave it, I was writing was came into my head.

Remus would take to being a dad like an otter to water. …young otters need to be forced to swim, dragged through the water squealing. But once they get used to the feel of the water, to holding their breathe… they are made for it, even if at first it feels impossible and alien.

(Approx 2000 words)

We KNOW he is good with kids. it is straight up canon. I will NEVER get over how cute his first lesson is: + He learned all their names before meeting them. + He goes out of his way to impress them, to surprise them + He comforts them - and to gently pushes them out of their comfort zones. + He relishes in being in charge and wholeheartedly wants to nurture them + He understands the need to be a little naughty and lets them have fun.

He is terrified of infants. He will hold them, eyes wide… and then quickly give them back. He doesn't want to hurt them. Drop them. Scratch them. Ruin them. Make them cry. But he wants to be close to them. When he finally gets used to holding the baby he will walk around carrying them constantly. Crib time...? Whats that...?

He keeps photos with him at all times, muggle and magical, and is constantly taking new ones. Shows them to random people. BIG baby-booker. Recording weight and the date of every little 'milestone'. He doesn't give up on the next kids, either.

He doesn't mind when infants are helpless, and you need to watch them constantly, and wake up at night… He is vigilant. Sometimes he feels more like a large pet dog than a dad, always ready to check on the baby... But he still doesn't trust himself to be tender enough, to not hurt them. When it comes to feeding or burping or changing them, he gets his partners help - and frets over their shoulder.

As baby gets a little older, toddler age… he gets colder feet. They start talking, running around, becoming their own person… He gets scared. He will very soon have to be a real dad. He is scared he isn't good enough. He will ruin the child, make all the wrong choices, his partner will hate him... So he has periods of disappearing again - and it isn't good. His mental health suffers and so does his partners. Friendships get strained as friends need to fill the gap he is leaving in raising his own kid... it's not a good look, and the more people get upset with him the harder it is for him to come back. ...But every time he does comes home, after a few months away, and see's his little kid has grown even more… God, it hurts. He cries. He is so, so sorry he is missing their life...

This means if he has a second child it'll be either VERY close to the first child in age (like conceived/adopted the same/next year) OR there is a significant gap in age. He wouldn't want another kid until he feels he has emotionally settled from this disaster... if he wants another one at all. Though, growing up a lonely only child, I do think he would want more than one. He will want to wait until the first child is going to be at Hogwarts while the worst years hit - so it could even be a whole decade. He will promise himself he wont abandon the next kid when times get tough… and he will fail. He will be BETTER about it, though.

It takes him awhile, but by the time the kid is 4 or 5 he is more often at home than he isn't. He is back and he is riddled with guilt. He is a little too coddling, too protective, too lenient. He spends all his time with them, sleeps in their room with them - if they aren't already sleeping in the grown up bed. He doesn't take the best care of himself, and he selfishly ensures that HE is his kids favourite person to appease his guilt. It's actually a bit of a problem. It is good he is supervising - but he makes it harder for his partner to parent, even unintentionally.

The kid can bully him. All they have to do is say 'I hate you daddy' and Lupin is a complete mess. He tries not to cry in front of his own kid… but he needs help to not run away again, for being a failure of a father. He is fragile and it puts pressure on his partner to have to baby him, too. Curled up freaking out because 'I wasn't there and now they hate me, they'll never love me, I've ruined everything...'

It doesn't help that he was bitten when he was 5, Greyback breaking into his bedroom, and he has a fear of it happening again. Days before the full moon he will pull back. He feels irritable and sick, so he stays out of the house as much as he can. Of course his kid misses him and doesn't understand why Daddy can be there 24/7 and then suddenly he goes away. Remus wasn't sure how early he wanted his kid to know - but too bad, his partner said something while he was absent: "Daddy needs to go away sometimes, because he gets sick and turns into a big monster doggy. He goes away to scare all the bad monsters away, so they don't go under your bed." …Remus isn't sure how he feels bout that explanation. Nor about how young his kid knows that daddy is 'different'.

It's a blessing when they start muggle school. And they DO start muggle school - Remus would not have it any other way. He couldn't go to school. He had to be home schooled, which was spotty from two overworked and stressed parents. He moved too often and wasn't allowed to make friends. He will not have that for his kid. They will make friends. At first it is hard for him, being apart from them - you know how kids cry on their first few days of school when their parents leave? He is almost as bad. But overall its good - because it gives him time to re-learn how to look after himself… and to maybe reconnect with his partner. His partner has been doing so much work these last few years... and he has drifted apart, in his obsessions and his absences. (Depending on the partner they may never be able to fully reconcile. Honestly I think Tonks would fall into that category - but that's not for here.)

He is very engaged with his child's education. As someone who has been a teacher himself he tries to be chummy with their muggle teachers... which doesn't always go well - because a wizarding Professor and a muggle Teacher are very different. They see him as eccentric and overbearing… and while he says he is a teacher too, nothing quite adds up. Remus is also tickled pink that muggle schools are so easy to access. He can just… walk in!!! It's down the road! He really SHOULD get a visitor sticker… but he's just coming to give his kid some lunch, so it is fine, right? When the kid gets older… how embarrassing.

Always gives sweets. 'Don't have snacks before dinner' - he fails. He finds it hard to say no to kids, when yes seems like good fun... Kid falls down? He is a master of distracting from the pain, making a big show of healing it - and giving a lolly to help feel better. Kid learns how to just shove heir hands into his pockets to get lollies out for themselves, when he is distracted.

He really starts clicking with the kid, in a way that is far healthier for both of them, when they are 7/8ish. Old enough to start having real fun. He has a habit of giving them his wand to practice spells - which he shouldn't... but he is so excited to nurture their magic. "Youre the age I was when my father taught me how to deal with a Boggart... I think I's time I passed that on." - he says, building up the experience as some huge and important adventure. He takes them out of muggle school sometimes to bond. Sometimes they really get up to no good - whether that's breaking into an abandoned muggle buildings looking for boggarts, or sitting in the mug together outside, making 'potions'. But he is also more responsible now. He will tell them 'no' without fear of them despising him and can deal with tantrums better.

The kid having their friends over can be tough, if they are muggle friends. If he has an office (he needs an office, he thrives when he can pretend to be a big professor type - a healthy Remus habitat includes an office) he has horned skulls, cursed books, specimens in jars… nothing as extravagant as Severus, but things a muggle shouldn't see. If they DO see, or the friends are magical, he is happy for them to show them cool things - his own little museum of oddities. Even if they are muggles he will take them all 'ghost hunting', or out into the forest camping... if they are sleeping over in the lounge-room he is sleeping with them. Old man passed out first watching a movie.

CAMPING. TRAVELING. HOLIDAYS. He loves planning these things and refuses to keep his kid inside the house all holidays - even if they want to be. Both because he enjoys having the money and freedom to and because he is just more comfortable in temporary accommodation sometimes than months on end in the one house. Also he wants to make good memories to make up for being absent... and planning things like trips makes him feel good.

If he goes back to being a teacher at Hogwarts, if he can - he will have originally planned to take time off to look after kid no. 2 if they are born/adopted near when kid 1. goes to Hogwarts… but it is so stressful that he doesn't. Instead he spends all year at the school having fun with kid. 1 as their teacher, and kid 2. barely gets to know him. This sours Kid. 1 to him when they get older and realize both they and their little sibling lack early childhood experiences of their dad... because he was a coward, and left it up to their other parent.

Even if there is no kid 2 - I think, after a childhood of hot-and-cold parenting, either being their best friend or completely absent - the kid's teenage years will be more difficult than Remus expects, and it almost sends him into a spiral again. They start hating their dad, rebelling against him... and it breaks his heart. But he is a little better at handling it now. He tries not to run away - and tries to do good. Tries to talk. He has abandoned them too many times already. Ignore if adopted a they are already tweenage B) They don't have a history with him and thus his bad habits are all fresh.

I think a first child will grow apart from Remus as they grow up. They see how he failed as a father… but also where he succeeded. Perhaps they grow closer to the other parent as they get older, understanding what they have gone through all these years.

A kid 2. with a gap? They were never as close to Dad as a very young child, kid 1 took his attention - but he is far more stable. He is much better at looking after kids now. He doesn't run when things get tough. He is more responsible, strict, wise... But he is also older. Of course, he is a Wizard, so age doesn't hit the same - but he is also a werewolf and would be showing that. Perhaps he's finally gotten hair on his ears etc. People are starting to recognize him as a werewolf now - and he doesn't go out adventuring as much. For the first child/ren, he was a fun, energetic, playful man. A man that almost clung to them - their dad and best friend. For the second child/red, daddy is a monster… but a nice monster. A cuddly monster. A monster that maybe can't come to their sports game with all the muggles… but really wishes he could.

I dunno how this looks, I've had alcohol and don't wanna proof read, Soz B^) Šljivovica is good

[dreamersbcll]

What if chad doesn't stop tara from opening quinn's door in the apartment scene? Let's suppose that ghostface was right behind it, waiting for someone to do something. Maybe when tara opens it, ghostface pulls her inside and locks the door... please, if you decide to write this, make it angsty <3

so, i did a mashup of au’s. here’s the other inspo post….

“Guess”

————————————————————————

The fucked-up part of the whole night was that Tara genuinely thought they would eat dinner together until the screaming started. The newly coined Core-Four gets one nice moment together, which again is ruined by some death wish. Once the screaming began, the facade of a good life was stripped away, and the kids ran toward the source.

Tara didn’t know why she went to open the door. Every fiber in her being begged her to back away from the door, but naturally, she ignored her instincts. She instead reached for the door handle, feeling the electricity crackle between her fingertips and the knob. She knew deep down that something was wrong.

But she twisted it anyway.

The second she did so, she looked up and made eye contact with Sam, dread swallowing her up whole. As if Sam could read her mind, her expression quickly changed from confusion to horror. Her big sister reached out, trying to get her away from the door, and that’s when Tara was snatched.

The door violently swung open, and a gloved hand wrapped around her shoulder, yanking her inside. She could see the moment that the other kids knew- that Tara wasn’t coming out unscathed. She could feel her stomach drop, her hands instantly shaking. The door slammed shut behind her, and the noise of something being shoved in front of it made her ears ache.

As she was thrown to the bedroom floor, she saw Quinn’s dead body strewn across her bed. Blood spattered the walls and sheets, and she cried out as she fell into a puddle. Hot and sticky, and her head throbbing, she stared at Ghostface, a sneer across her face.

Though every part of her was terrified, she put on her brave face, snarling back at her latest assailant.

“You better make it fucking hurt. My sister will tear you apart, limb by limb!” she growled, ignoring the throbbing in her panicked chest.

Ghostface tilted his head at Tara, and she swore she saw him smile.

“I hope she does, Tara,” he sneered back, raising the knife.

Before she could react, she kicked her square in the head, knocking her out cold.

——

Turning around towards the sound of screaming, Ghostface stared at the door, watching it shake. He could hear the bitchy sister beg for Tara, and the conceited asshole Chad threw his body against the door. It didn’t matter what they prayed for or who they begged. He was in control now.

Making his way to the shaking door, he pulled out his knife, tapping the blade against the door. Immediately the pounding stopped, the screaming dying to a bated breath.

This was too fucking easy.

Scraping the blade against the door, he spoke quietly, just above a whisper.

“Hey, Sam. Let’s play a game,” he taunted, goosebumps rising as the shrill knife scraped against the old wood.

A gasp could be heard, and someone stumbled back across the hardwood floor onto the couch. He grinned, knowing that he had them all wrapped around his finger.

Her voice, low and controlled, broke the silence.

“Try me, motherfucker,” she hissed back, her voice strained.

Without warning, he slapped his free hand against the door hard enough to make the ground jump and shriek in fear. God, did this feel fucking good. He didn’t care if he was going off-script. This was what he wanted. It was his game, and they had to play it.

How delightful.

Leaning against the door, he let his mask touch the wood, relishing how he could hear Sam breathing fast. The bitch may be a stone-cold murderer, but behind that, she was still a scared little girl.

And he was about to teach her what happens when you kill his brother.

“Question game. Three questions, to be exact. Each time you’re wrong, I get to stab your sister. If you get them right, she lives with minimal brain damage. If you don’t decide in the next ten seconds, I’m gutting her like a pig on Quinn’s bedroom floor,” he snarled, slapping his hand against the door again.

It took a few moments of frantic whispers and soft cries of Don’t do it, Sam, but he eventually heard the words he was waiting for.

“Fine. You lose, and I get to tear you apart,” she gritted back, slamming her hand against the wall.

He grinned and picked up the crumpled girl by the hair.

This was too easy.

——

Sam doesn’t know why she decided to play into this asshole’s delusions. Nothing good was going to come of it. She knew deep down that she was doing the wrong thing, but what could she do? She was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t.

Tara was going to bleed either way. Whether or not Sam burst into the door armed and ready to fight, Tara would get hurt. It didn’t matter what she did.

It didn’t fucking matter.

Digging her nails into the soft wood, she could feel the twins flanking her side. Annika was behind her, pressing gently against the small of her back. Taking a deep breath, she shuddered, the twins holding her upright.

“Okay. Now fucking get on with it, you sorry sack of shit,” she blurted out, trying to sound intimidating. But her shaky voice gave her away.

She could hear someone dragged across the floor, presumably her little sister—dead weight. Tara sounded like dead weight. She could feel her stomach churn and twist, knowing that her baby sister was in the hands of a butcher with a knife.

“Sam?” a confused Tara slurred out, yelping as she was slapped again.

Sam punched the door in a rage. “Don’t fucking touch her!”

After what seemed to be an eternity, he finally answered her, laughing at her pain. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to control her breathing. If she broke focus, Tara would die, and she couldn’t have that. They had just reunited.

They had just reunited.

“Question one, Sam. No freebies,” he drawled, Tara whimpering at his feet.

The twins sniffled, Anika, rubbing Mindy’s back. Sam could feel her hands trembling, and she took a deep breath, trying to control it. The kids needed her to stay upright. The kids needed her to be strong.

Fuck, Tara needed her to be solid and correct.

“How many people have you killed?”

Sam felt her mouth go dry, her hands limp at her side. This wasn’t a trick question, just one she wasn’t expecting. But she knew she was right because she had killed zero people. She smiled to herself, knowing that Tara would be safe this round. Mindy breathed a sigh of relief, Chad putting his face into his hands.

“None. I’ve killed none. Fuck you!” she spat, curling her hands into fists.

“Wrong answer!” he taunted, and before she could react, Tara screamed in pain.

A guttural scream of torment and the sound of skin torn apart by a knife. Chad stumbled backward, turning green, while Mindy fell to her knees, dragging Anika down.

Sam stood there, swaying slightly on her feet. She could hear Tara crying, the type of cry she had when she was in distress. It had been a while since Sam had heard that, that cry of despair. She should’ve known that this asshole had some fucked-up vendetta against her. Another conspiracy theorist who couldn’t accept that she wasn’t guilty.

“Let her go! Take me! Let her go!” she screamed, throwing her shoulder into the door. She felt it splinter under her touch, but before she could throw her body against the door again, she heard Tara wail in pain again.

“Careful, Sam. That’s against the rules—quick follow-up question for you. How many times can I stab your little sister before she bleeds out?” he gloated, laughing maniacally at his words.

She tugged at her hair hard. “That’s not fair! That’s not a real fucking question! Fuck you! Let her go!” Sam wailed, slamming her hands against the door.

Tara coughed a wet, sticky cough. “Sam, please,” she begged softly, coughing again.

There wasn’t anything Sam could do. She was stuck in hell, and she couldn’t do a goddamn thing to claw her way out. Tara was begging for her to help, but the game was rigged. No matter what, her baby sister would bleed- and Sam couldn’t control how much.

She slammed her hand against the door again, pathetically.

“Please,” she whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes as she heard Tara take a ragged breath in and out.

“Answer the question, Sam. How many people have you killed?”

Tara whimpered, and the twins behind her sobbed. Sam could feel every part of her body fighting the answer that sat on her tongue, but she had to give in. There wasn’t a backup plan. This was it- this was the end.

And she had to play into it.

“One. I’ve killed one,” she whispered, digging her nails into the door.

Ghostface laughed, a loud, mocking sound. The twins flinched, and Sam nearly stumbled back from the noise. It was an unnerving sound echoing throughout their apartment, one that wouldn’t ever be forgotten.

After a bit, he collected himself, clearing his throat.

“Do you know what it’s like to lose a sibling, Sam?”

Her stomach bottomed out, and her knees hit the floor. She pressed her forehead against the door, her nails digging into the wood, blood oozing down the wood.

“Please. Please don’t do this,” she begged, tears flowing down her face.

She could hear her baby sister crying, mumbling through her anguish and tears. He slapped Tara, the sound making Sam flinch in pain.

“I know what it’s like. You killed my sibling. I think it’s only fair if I kill yours. A life for a life,”.

“Richie was your sibling?” she stuttered incredulously, Mindy gasping behind her.

He laughed again, plunging his knife into Tara, who cried out in pain.

“She has a brain, ladies and gentlemen! The killer, the cold-blooded murderer, Sam Carpenter, has a brain!” he crowed, stabbing Tara again.

Ghostface dragged Tara towards the door, pressing her against it. Sam could practically feel Tara’s breathing, and she pressed a shaky palm against the door, trying to soothe her little girl.

It didn’t matter. This was the end. She could feel Tara's blood ooze under the door, soaking into her jeans. Tara breathed raggedly, her voice thick with blood.

“Sam. It’s Ethan. He’s the killer,” she softly whispered, her voice barely registering in Sam’s mind.

“Ethan?” she replied incredulously.

If she were wiser, she would’ve kept her mouth shut. But she wasn’t.

“Hi, Sam. Goodbye Tara!” he triumphantly yelled.

The screams of the group echoed throughout the building, Tara’s blood covering their floors.

[king-of-wrath]

Open Starter for Mutuals: To Hell and Back (Hopefully)

Down in the depths of DHORCS' newest headquarters, technicians had made adjustments to the extra-dimensional portal generator. Now able to send an adult human into Hell, the agency would need to perform vital reconnaissance: they needed to know the number and composition of demonic legions, to locate strongholds, identify points of interest and map-out each of the Seven Rings.

The casualty projections were extremely grim: even with the best military equipment,blessed tenfold by heavily indoctrinated and genetically "pure" holy men, it was expected that no more than one agent per ten would survive deployment. But in the minds of DHORCS' higher-ups, obtaining even the smallest amounts of information was well worth the sacrifice. Agents One and Two were given the unenviable task of drawing names from a hat---knowing they were sending their fellows to certain death.

Agent One reached in and pulled a slip from the hat. "Five," he read aloud. The same agent would step out from a line and receive his equipment: a fire-resistant bomb-disposal suit with a full-faced gas mask, an assault rifle and a handgun engraved with religious iconography and a backpack full of basic camping supplies.

"Twenty-six," Agent Two read aloud. With a solemn nod, she stepped out of line and went to gear-up.

"Forty-two," Agent One called out. He turned and briefly embraced his fellow agent before going forward.

"Seven," Two called. They swallowed hard, but accepted their fate.

"Eighteen," One called. "Put the fear of God and Man into 'em," One told Eighteen with a tear welling in his eye.

"...Sixty-nine," Two rolled her eyes. A few agents struggled to hold back giggles---until someone replied with "Nice", making them all spit and choke. The agent called out wasn't amused, having clearly endured that childishness for months.

"Thirteen," One called as the process continued.

"Fifty-five," Two called. Unlike the others, she seemed to relish in the opportunity.

"Thirty-three," One called.

"And..." Two reached inside. "...Eleven."

Agent Eleven was mortified and on the verge of fainting. Already pale and scrawny, he looked even more like a ghost. The agents to his left and right grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him forward, not letting him escape his imminent doom. He received his kit, but struggled to put it on because he was trembling like a newborn faun.

"Ey, youse!" One snapped his fingers at the two heading back into line. "Help Casper 'ere into his suit," he said with a chuckle.

Now that all ten agents were outfitted, the generator began its start-up cycle. If all went according to plan, they would be sent to a different location in Hell and regroup. Each agent's data-pad contained one part of a ten-character activation code, which would broadcast a homing signal back to headquarters for extraction. Even if the other nine had perished, the anticipated survivor was expected to recover their fellows' data---they needed to, if they had any hope of returning home.

One minute passed, feeling like an hour to the ten agents standing in wait. A man-sized rift then opened before them.

"Alright, one at a time!" Two commanded. "Same order as you were called!"

One by one, each of the nine agents ran headlong into Hell itself---not knowing what to expect or whether they would survive. Eleven was still terrified and had to be unceremoniously tossed through by Agent One.

Eleven shut his eyes, grit his teeth and curled into a tight ball as he felt himself flung through space and time. During every second of extra-dimensional travel, his ears were blasted by agonized screams and the echoing laughter of dark, thirsting beings.

Inside a ruined hovel, on the edge of the perpetually-violent Doomsday District, a tear in reality opened and spat forth the unfortunate agent. He felt his body thud against the rubble, but the heavy padding cushioned his fall. The laughter stopped and the screams weren't as loud, though his eardrums rattled with the sound of gunfire from not far away.

Eleven slowly lifted his head, raising the blast-shield on his helmet to discover where he was. He saw bullet tracers intersecting across a blood-red sky as unseen combatants shouted. He crawled along the ground, peeking out from a pile of bricks---just in time to see a grenade bounce down the street.

With the agility of a frightened cat, Eleven threw himself back and curled into a ball again. Once the explosive went-off, he scrambled to his feet and ran away from this apparent "war-zone". In one hand, he held the blast-shield down in front of his face and in the other, he tentatively gripped the handle of his rifle.

"God help me..." he muttered through his air filter.

[yunhohours]

cix reaction: giving virgin!cix a blowjob for the first time

request: hi !! could you do giving virgin!cix a blowjob for the first time?

byounggon: you’re the one to initiate the blowjob and, at first, he panics. it comes during a lazy makeout in bed. you’re not quite sure why now is the time, but you can’t seem to shake the idea of having him in your mouth so you propose the idea to him through unsteady breath. w-wait, y/n– he’s wide-eyed and heart racing as he tries to keep you in place, not wanting you to lower yourself down his body. it’s not that he doesn’t want you to go down on him, but he’s so concerned that you’re just doing it because you feel like you have to or you should. he’s also a little terrified that he’ll cum too fast and embarrass himself, but he doesn’t tell you that. you have to make a good effort to reassure him that you want to give him head and that you don’t feel pressured in order for him to relax enough. he stays on edge even still, watching you as closely as possible while simultaneously trying his best to not let the sight of your hands pulling down his pants and your lips so close to where he needs to feel you send him over the edge before it’s even begun. he knows he’s fucked the second you experimentally kitten lick his tip and his hips buck up without his permission, a desperate cry surprising you both. “y/n,” he whines, no longer caring about how pathetic he looks or sounds. “please.” he doesn’t make it more than a minute or two inside your mouth before he’s emptying himself inside of it, choked apologies spilling from his lips because it happened too soon for him to warn you.

seunghun: the first blowjob probably happens after one of the times seunghun finishes going down on you. from the second you first allowed his mouth access to you, he has more than taken advantage of that privilege. he has never pushed penetrative sex or oral on his behalf, but he was always eager to pleasure you. he’s surprised when you ask to return the favor, but he’s stoked. he grins from ear to ear and settles himself back on the couch, legs spread for you to nestle between them as if he’s done this a million times before. he pushes his own pants and boxers down for you, feeling a little smug when he sees how your eyes widen seeing his cock for the first time. he lets you do as you please, sighing here and there as your hand slowly pumps or when your lips finally wrap around him. you look so pretty, he’ll praise as you work more and more of him into your mouth with every bob of your head. despite wanting to let you solely take charge of the situation for your own comfort, his hand will eventually slide into the side of your hair, gripping your head and guiding you. he doesn’t really push you further than you’re already going on your own, but he likes feeling like he has some control over the situation. he lasts an impressively long time and makes sure to warn you before he cums. he’d love to cum on your face or in your mouth but he’ll cum wherever you want him to.

yonghee: sweetest yonghee is the one to open the conversation. he’ll take notice of the way your fingers play and pull at the waist of his pants when you’re on his lap, getting lost in your shared kiss. he’ll just let you for a bit, but when it doesn’t stop, he’ll hum and pull back to look at you. “what’s the matter, princess? do you want them off?” he’ll relish in the blush on your cheeks, tilting his head with a little pout on his lips to make him look less intimidating to you. when you confess that not only do you want his pants off, but that you want to take him in your mouth, he’s surprised but he doesn’t show it. he’ll just give you the okay and help you settle between his legs. nothing about him gives you the impression that it’s his first blowjob, even though you both know it is. his confidence is quiet and extremely attractive. just do what you want, okay? he reassures you, letting himself sink into the couch cushions and enjoy what you give him. he releases the prettiest moans, even when you’re using your hand for any length you don’t feel comfortable taking into your mouth. he only assists the process by moving your hair out of your face when it falls and checking in on you from time to time to make sure you still feel good about everything. will not even attempt to cum on or in you. he’ll pull out in plenty of time and cum on his own stomach.

jinyoung: the first time you give jinyoung head, neither of you are really expecting it. you wake up in bed together–something that happens often enough–but this time he has an all-too-obvious erection. it’s not that he’s never woken up like that with you before, but it’s usually easy enough for him to hide from you. not this time. you not only notice, but you mention it, insisting that he goes to take care of himself in the bathroom so he’s not uncomfortable. you know he won’t go for that when you’re there, but you hope that he will because you don’t like the idea of him not being taken care of. as expected, jinyoung says no. to your surprise, he also says: what if you take care of it for me instead? the silence is deafening for a moment, but jinyoung laughs, trying to pass it off as a joke. but you surprise him now when you say okay, let me help. he’s expecting you to just give him a quick handjob and he’s happy with that, but he’s starry eyed when he watches as you pull him free of his clothing and drag your tongue along his cock. “oh.” he whispers, hand pushing back through his hair as he watches you. he wasn’t prepared for your mouth, so he knows he won’t last as long as he wanted, but he makes an effort to prolong the experience as long as possible. he sighs and curses softly under his breath until his hips are struggling to stay down on the mattress. “baby, stop,” he exhales, carefully taking hold of your hair and keeping you from sinking back onto him. he finishes himself off, letting you watch, and cums with the most satisfied groan.

hyunsuk: naturally, the first time hyunsuk gets a blowjob from you starts playfully. he’s getting dressed for a schedule and asks for your help. he loves your input and he trusts that you’ll always make sure he looks the best he possibly can before he leaves. today, he’s wearing a white button up and trousers, complete with a tie–no jacket. he looks incredible. edible. you give him one last onceover before you plan to let him leave, but you notice that one of his oxfords is untied. without thinking about it, you drop down to tie it. you feel his hand gently stroking the back of your hair as you do so, glancing up at him when you’re done to see a smile on his face. “what?” you ask. “you just look so cute down there.” say less. you let your hand glide up his leg, drifting towards the inside when you’re above his knee. “you think so?” you tease and he bites his lip, carefully stepping backward until his hands can take residence on the dresser behind him for stability. “y/n?” he says your name with a question like he’s not sure what you’re doing. as if he didn’t start this in his own way. you’re careful to take him out of his nice clothing and careful to make sure you don’t let any of his precum or your drool make a mess as you take him in your mouth for the first time. he looks beautiful, mouth hung open, sparkling eyes wide. he doesn’t fight back his moans and when your tongue presses into his leaking slit, he moans so loud you almost cum. when he gets close, his legs get weak and he’s warning you with a voice that sounds like he never wants this to end. you only pull off him long enough to tell him to cum in your mouth–to save his clothes, you convince you both–and that’s all he needs. the second he’s safely in the confines of your warm mouth again, his hips stutter until your tongue is coated in his seed.