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miss-tc-nova · 8 months

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S/O Inexperienced in Relationships - TWST Housewardens

Not a day has gone by that I haven't been working on this. I'm SO sorry this took so long but I interpreted this in a few different ways and had to decide how I wanted to write it. But it's done!!!

Also, sorry for not using a fem!reader. I've apparently conditioned myself to write around that.

As for the question of my patience, I've answered that here, lol.

Premise: The Prefect is acting a bit odd

Words:

Riddle: 308

Leona: 357

Azul: 296

Kalim: 364

Vil: 351

Idia: 400

Malleus: 362

~~~~~

Riddle

Riddle has started to become suspicious.

You almost seem paranoid—second guessing every single move you make. The foods you choose, the clothes you wear, and apparently even the path you take to class. There is nothing that seems to get the green light the first time around.

At first he lets it go, seeing as it doesn’t interfere with his duties. But as the problem persists, it does begin to interfere in the relationship. This wasn’t a thing before you started dating.

He never thought he’d frown upon fastidiousness, but you checking and double checking that little book of yours has interrupted far too many activities and is beginning to irk him.

So he demands the book only to be stunned at the Queen’s rules written inside.

You had been spending hours upon hours trying to abide the Queen’s rules that Riddle knew by heart.

However, Riddle has recently come to terms with the idea that not everything has to be perfect—that people can just live. So while he admires your dedication to adhere to something he finds important, he’s concerned for your wellbeing.

When he questions why you would go to such lengths for this, you shyly, embarrassedly admit that you were afraid of losing him. You’ve never had many friends, let alone significant others. You didn’t really know what made a strong, enduring relationship.

But you knew the rules were important to him.

Riddle finally understands, warmth bleeding through his chest as a smile pulls at his lips.

“I don’t mind if you know the logistics of a relationship or not. What matters is that we build this one together. And while I admire your dedication to study the Queen’s rules, I would much rather you preserve your health. You’ll learn them in due time. Until then, please, just be yourself—my beautiful rose.”

~~~~~

Leona

Leona’s ire is growing.

This is not what he thought your relationship would be like.

Sure, he didn’t expect you to be throwing yourself at his lap or hanging off him, but to not even smile when he approaches you? If he didn’t know better, he’d say you weren’t even dating.

He’s starting to go out of his way to get a reaction out of you. Taking things out of your hands and pretending to examine them—sometimes returning them, sometimes not. Leaning against you, and if you manage to resist, he’ll just go limp until you crumple beneath his weight.

In some rare occasions, if you’re having a conversation with someone, he’ll just pick you up and walk off. Honestly, he’s impressed you haven’t snapped at him yet.

Eventually, while your attention is focused on studying, Leona snaps. He snatches the book from your hand and hurls it over the balcony of his room, leaving you stunned.

When you ask if he’s okay, he turns the question back on you. When you insist that there’s nothing wrong, he demands to know if you regret agreeing to go out with him.

Denying that accusation is not enough as Leona persists that you “don’t act like it.” Your retort turns out to be that you don’t know how to “act like it.”

His confusion finally gives you a moment to explain. You never had many relationships with anyone, including romantic kinds, so you have no idea what you’re doing in this relationship. All you really know is that Leona isn’t into clingy types so you tried your best to be the opposite.

It takes Leona a moment to soak in the information before he promptly tells you that you’re an idiot through a smirk.

“Look, I can’t say I’m a relationship expert but do what you want. Pretendin’ to be someone you think makes me happy is just stupid. And clearly not workin’ for ya, so you might as well go back to bein’ that person I asked out in the botanical gardens. Now get over here. We’re takin’ a nap. No, you can get your book later.”

~~~~~

Azul

Azul regrets his decision.

At first, he thought having you take on some of his responsibilities was a great idea. He didn’t even ask you to; you volunteered.

You can easily run the Lounge in his absence, scheduling shifts, obtaining stock, and whatever else that needed doing. Hell, he even trusts you to facilitate contracts on his behalf.

He’s thrilled to have the free time to look into new ventures.

Except, with all this free time, he starts to notice that you have none.

You’re always on the move, always writing, always busy. And it seems to be taking its toll. You look tired, the spark in your eyes gone.

Regret sinks in, mostly because he can’t remember the last time the two of you actually spent time together.

It takes several attempts to pry you away from your work to finally talk and Azul starts right off with reducing your workload. When you refuse, he persists, his suspicion growing until he finally asks why you’re being so stubborn.

You crack. The last thing you want is to lose him because you aren’t good enough. Friends, let alone partners, aren’t something you understand very well for lack of experience. Without that knowledge, you concluded that becoming as useful as you could was best.

A smile tugs at his lips as the man pulls you into his arms.

“My darling, I promise I’ll be just fine running things without you. But more importantly, I promise that nothing will change between us. And while most may find experience advantageous, I think I more enjoy the idea of us learning to be together, together. Now, I’ve taken the liberty of clearing both our schedules for the day. And I would enjoy nothing more than to spend it with you.”

~~~~~

Kalim

Kalim is…confused.

He loves you and he is absolutely basking in all the affection you shower him with.

But it doesn’t feel like you anymore.

Shortly after you began dating, you began fawning over him at every opportunity. Your arms were always wrapped around him and you always kissed his face when entering or leaving his presence.

The thing that really clued Kalim in to something being wrong was the constant smile on your face. You had a beautiful smile when it was genuine. But this smile is forced.

On top of that, you aren’t the kind of person to be this overly affectionate. It must be draining to keep up such an energetic façade. And the last thing Kalim wants is for someone close to him to pretend to be someone they’re not.

He mulls over how to ask you about something that you might find sensitive.

Then he catches you without your mask. You look tired and anxious. And he can’t hold it in anymore.

Ignoring your smile, Kalim gets to the point, asking point blank what’s wrong.

You deny at first, but he begs you not to lie to him. He cares too much and, after what happened with Jamil, he refuses to let someone else suffer in silence if there’s anything he can do.

So you tell him. You tell him that you were pretty much alone in your world, no friends or romantic partners. You don’t know how to act or what’s expected; you’re even more lost when it comes to dating a freaking prince. You can’t offer anything that he didn’t already have. All you have are your feelings for him.

Hearing your worries, Kalim drags you into his arms. Of course he’s happy that you would shower him with love, but he wants the real you, all the time.

“Mmm, I don’t really know what romantic relationships are like either. But I don’t think it really matters. It’s okay to not be happy all the time. I mean, I love seeing you smile, but I love you no matter how you feel. So please don’t pretend just for me. Oh, there it is—the most beautiful smile.”

~~~~~

Vil

Vil holds his tongue a bit too long.

Initially, he’s impressed by the sudden, significant effort you put into your health and appearance.

This included morning workouts, tracking every meal and drink, and spending hours making sure you look perfect for the day. Not a hair out of place nor a frayed hem—all the best you could do with what you had.

And Vil encouraged you. Yes, he noticed that you weren’t exactly thrilled with the new regime, but no one really is in the beginning. But he wanted to support you.

Yet the longer he observes your efforts, the more he realizes that this attempt to “better” yourself is having the opposite effect.

Sure, you’re more glam, but your emotional state hasn’t improved. In fact, you seem exhausted. You smile and act bright, but a true actor could see through it. He’s ashamed he let it get this far.

But he’s not letting it continue.

He catches you on the way to your next workout and gets to the point, asking why the sudden uptake of your rigorous routine.

You tell him you’d always meant to be healthier and just never had the motivation to. So he retorts asking what this new motivation might be.

This is where you hesitate, growing embarrassed. Vil’s gentle insistence coaxes your worries into the open. You were a loner in your home world so you have no idea how you managed to catch the eye of one of Twisted Wonderland’s biggest celebrities.

You gush about how perfect Vil is but you’re just you. You’re terrified to lose him, so all you could think to do is adopt Vil’s way of life.

A soft laughter escapes him as he presses a kiss to your head.

“While I admire your efforts to emulate my lifestyle, the last thing I want is for you to be miserable every day. You can make little changes; I’ll support your every step. But even if you don’t, you’re still perfect. And who has a better eye for perfection than I do? That’s right. You are my perfect, little gem..”

~~~~~

Idia

Idia may have missed his cue.

A new patch released on one of his games, so of course he was lost to the world.

Throughout the whole thing, you kept quiet, never interrupting his game as he spent endless hours hunched over his keyboard.

However, the moment that end credit scene concludes, the young man sits straight, rubs his eyes, and immediately notices a distinct lack of you.

Ortho informs him that you haven’t been around for a few days. Seeing as you spent nearly all your free time with Idia since you two started dating, that sounds suspicious.

When his messages receive no reply, he forces himself to trudge out of the dorm for the only person he’d brave society for.

In Ramshackle, he finds you doing homework. But as he opens his mouth to tell you about his fantastical adventure, he stops himself. Even as you look up at him, your mouth is shut, but even more, you look sad.

Awkward as hell, Idia sits beside you. He’s grateful for your courtesy of letting him enjoy his game, but even he admits that ignoring you was rude.

So he asks why you didn’t interrupt him.

Your shoulders shrug. Idia had been excited for this expansion. You’d never been in a relationship before, but it felt wrong to rain on his fun. Besides, you were used to being alone so you didn’t see a difference.

He stares, lips twisted shut. Then he stands and leaves, marching straight back to his dorm where he gets to work for the better part of two days—including shipping.

Then he returns to drag you back to Ignihyde. His cluttered room is a little more so—filled with empty boxes and wrappers. But right next to his desk is another, set up very similarly. Meanwhile, Idia himself fidgets, a tint of pink on his face.

“So, yeah, I was a major jerk for going AWOL and I totally deserve to be reemed. But I’d totally take being interrupted over tanking our relationship. ‘Sides, the OG you is way more valuable than any platinum. I know! Cringe! But, if you’re interested, maybe we can just party up instead? Yeah, it’s got the latest specs and I already downloaded the best RPG so we can play together. No worries, let Gloomurai show you how to stomp those other noobs! Why are you laughing? Oh geeze.”

~~~~~

Malleus

Malleus can tell there’s something, but isn’t entirely sure what.

The shift was minute, the slow withdraw.

All was as it should be when your relationship began. Malleus could not have been happier.

Then the creases worked their way across your face. Sure, you smiled with Malleus, but when conversation lulled, it vanished and your eyes turn downcast.

You always seemed lost in whatever concerns occupied your mind and, soon enough, even Malleus couldn’t regain your attention very easily.

Inevitably, he gains some clue when a song of praises of the great heir come exploding from Sebek’s mouth. As the freshman demeans another student for some trifling reason, the dragon distinctly notes your aura recoil. The floor has your attention and you’ve never looked so uneasy.

This worries him. All his life people had kept their distance, but to have the love of his life do so as well—he’s not sure he could stand it.

So the prince bides his time, waiting for a moment of privacy before his fear becomes unbearable. And with a heavy heart, he asks if his status has finally gotten to you.

You bashfully admit that it might have and he feels his heart cracking.

But you continue. Your experience in relationships is miniscule. You’ve only just begun to learn what it means to have friends but in romance your knowledge is woefully non-existent. The thought of maybe one day needing to lead a whole kingdom of people is terrifying. What if you mess it up?

Word by word, Malleus begins to realize that this isn’t about him or his status. He scorns himself for thinking you would care about that; nevertheless, it does ease his own worries.

Because he has nothing but faith in you.

“After everything that’s happened, it’s peculiar that you worry about such things. I may not be well versed in relationships myself, but I’m not concerned with whether or not you’re good for my kingdom. You’re good for me—perfect just as you are. And together we’ll learn and be an example of what it truly means to care for one another. Mm? Are you blushing? Was it something I said?”

~~~~~

#gender neutral reader #malleus draconia #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #riddle rosehearts #kalim al asim #idia shroud #vil schoenheit #twst x reader #novas requests

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t3a-tan · 26 days

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Romantic and Hopeless (6/?)

First / Previous / Next

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Sammy kept her eyes closed after yelling, breathing heavily, her expression pulled into a grimace as if bracing for something. She was waiting for a reaction— anger, amusement, pain— it didn't matter which, but she was certain it would be one of them. It always was.

And then she felt herself being lowered down, eyes shooting open again at the feeling of wood beneath her. The fingers around her released and pulled away, and Sammy watched as those giant hands rubbed together as if his fingers had been burnt by the contact.

“I…I'm sorry…”

She bristled at the apology, eyes wide with surprise as she cradled her injury close. She scooted back until her back hit the wall, brows furrowing with confusion. Sorry was the last word she expected to come from the human's mouth. She was catching her breath, staring up at him, unable to formulate a response.

“I…” Sammy watched as Oscar bit his lip and trailed off, his expression showing clear guilt mixed in with a bit of distress. Why would he be distressed? He's the one with all the power here. He leaned forward for a moment, his mouth opening as if to speak only to hesitate again when his approach made her flinch back. Her shoulders tensed as he cleared his throat.

“Sammy… Y-you uh… you know I'm not going to hurt you…right?” She didn't respond, expression growing wary. Oscar slowly shifted back, lowering his head more. “I.. thought you knew that. I guess I shouldn't have assumed after everything you've gone through that you'd trust me… But I really won't hurt you.”

Oh how she wanted to believe it… but it simply wasn't possible. Humans were not capable of being good to her kind for long. Thanks to Ryker Sammy had been in the eyes of many humans, and thanks to Wells she had been in the hands of many more. She was an expert on how humans treated borrowers…

Sooner or later, Oscar would snap at her too.

“Yes you will. H-humans…humans always hurt people like me…” She responded, wiping at her watery eyes, her lips pressed into a scowl even as she continued to take in shuddery breaths. “You— you just haven't decided what you want to do to me yet…”

Oscar's expression turned into one of subdued horror at her words, then shifted in confusion and guilt. He leaned down a little more, his hands pressed into the floor now to brace himself, although they remained a distance away. Not far enough for Sammy to feel safe by any means, but that ship had long sailed.

“First of all— I know exactly what I want to do… and that's help you. Whatever ideas you have in your mind about that sort of stuff…I—I would never hurt you. Never.” He insisted, tone edging on pleading. His brows then furrowed as he continued.

“Second of all though… Sammy— I thought you said you got shrunk, right? So why are you saying humans like that? And people like you…?” He questioned slowly.

Sammy froze. In the panic of everything she had completely forgotten that she answered yes to his question earlier about being shrunk— Oh God. This makes it ten times worse.

She could feel her breathing getting faster again, her mind immediately going to the fact that she knew borrowers sold for a lot of money on the black market. Even just the thought of being back in the hands of Wells or others like him made her skin crawl.

“Please, Sammy… please explain everything to me— I… I just want to help you. I can't help when I don't even know what's going on…” Now he really was begging her, and he sounded so sincere… Sammy opened her mouth but hesitated and averted her gaze, staying quiet.

After several seconds passed, a warm sigh washed over her and she cowered back as Oscar began to stand up again, meeting his concerned eyes with surprise. Why isn't he breaking character? I already called him out…

“Please wait there. I'm just gonna…I'll get the first aid kit. And some ice…if we have any.” She watched as he walked away, her eyes following him into the kitchen but her back remaining pressed up against the wall.

He's…leaving me unattended? Again? After I just tried to escape? I know I'm injured, but…

Sammy looked down at her twisted ankle, gathering her breath as she inspected the sprain. It wasn't too severe, but it was noticeable… Maybe a week of healing? It might give her a limp if she rushed things, but she might need to rush things in this situation.

She glanced towards the doorway into the kitchen again, gaze wary and discerning. She could see Oscar's towering figure in the distance as he searched through the cupboard under the sink, presumably for the first aid kit.

She wiped her eyes again, some of the adrenaline that had been rushing through her beginning to fade, and leaving her leg to ache even more. Sammy winced, hunching over and hugging onto her knees, still staring in the direction of the human.

Her soulmate.

Why is my soulmate a human? I don't think I could ever love a monster like that… even if he sounds so nice, he's lying. He has to be… Even when he listened to me, it's a trick. It's not real.

And yet, Sammy stayed where she was, waiting for him to return with the first aid kit and ice. Soon, after rummaging around in the freezer he seemed to give up and started walking in her direction again.

After being lost in her own thoughts watching the giant move about from a distance Sammy couldn't help but be a little startled by his approach. She shifted away once before managing to stay where she was sitting, her body trembling.

The red box was set down a foot away from where she sat, and she flinched as it was. Oscar followed soon after, crouching, then kneeling. He clicked open the box and Sammy watched those giant invasive fingers delicately brush through the contents of the box; searching for specific supplies no doubt.

“We didn't have ice.. um… but I'll go out and get an ice pack from the shop in a sec. First you should disinfect those scrapes and wrap up your ankle…” He placed a few different things close to her and Sammy bristled once she processed his words.

“..me…?”

Oscar paused, looking down at her and offering a sad half-smile.

“Well yeah. You said you don't want me to touch you after all… My hands are probably too big to do it properly anyway, so yeah.” He explained. His smile then fell and he let out a sigh. “And I'm sorry— about grabbing you like that? It was pretty bang out of order… I just saw you were hurt and wanted to help, but I should have asked first.”

Sammy blinked in surprise, her eyes widening just a tad at his words.

He's…apologising… again? I don't understand.

Hesitantly, she shuffled over to the disinfectant wipe and bandages he had set down, first picking up the wipe after giving Oscar a confused side glance. As soon as she had grabbed it she quickly scooted back into the corner again. He made no moves to grab her…

Sammy swallowed nervously and began to dab at the scrapes, face scrunching into a wince at the cold sting it caused. Even so, she continued cleaning them before glancing up at Oscar again. He had moved back a bit since putting the supplies next to her. She bit her lip.

“I… I-I'm a borrower… Not a human…” She admittedly softly. Her eyes quickly shot up to inspect Oscar's expression to watch his reaction. She expected anger, or maybe a smirk, but he just seemed…confused. His head tilted sheepishly.

“What's a borrower..?”

Sammy flinched at the question, looking back down at her ankle again as she began to carefully wrap it up. She thought about her words first, still considering not telling him anything else…but something about the way he was looking at her made her want to tell him.

“We're…little people… that live in the walls of human houses, and take stuff that won't be missed. Like paperclips, scraps of paper, crumbs, that sort of stuff. Some borrowers live in the trees instead. But we try our best not to get seen by humans…” She explained.

As she heard the floorboards creak again under Oscar's weight her gaze quickly snapped to focus on him again, only to see that he was laying down; his cheek now rested on his forearms folded in front of him. The tension in her body faded once she realised he was just getting more comfortable.

“Makes sense… Humans can be pretty shitty about new discoveries and all. And most people would be pretty peeved about someone stealing their shit.” He remarked with a hum.

“..not you though..?” Sammy asked, noticing that he said most people would, not I would.

Oscar shook his head, his strawberry red hair falling in front of his eyes slightly. A gentle smile formed on his lips. Sammy felt her heart hammer in her chest again, but this time it wasn't accompanied by the usual cold terror pumping through her veins.

“Be pretty hypocritical if I were. You know I don't have a great track record with the law…and it's because I've stolen stuff before. Mostly food, sometimes other stuff.” He explained. “A lot of humans don't like me much too for that reason.”

Sammy tore off the edge of the bandage as she finished wrapping her ankle, making sure it was secure. She frowned. I thought humans didn't have to steal food… They always seem to have it…

The rustling of clothes moving met her ears, causing her to look up at Oscar again as he leaned forward a little more. From this close she could see his green eyes through the blue lenses; shining with concern.

“So did you get…caught? By humans? Is that why you were in that…oddly high-tech basement?” He asked softly, his expression turning more sombre with the subject matter.

Sammy averted her gaze again, nodding slowly. She could remember that day like it was yesterday. The panic and chaos as her mum tried to get her and her brother to safety. The sight of her dad trapped under bits of smashed up wall, unmoving, bleeding. The first time she felt the now-familiar sensation of giant fingers wrapping around her.

She shuddered at the memory.

“Just…one day they broke down the walls, and before we knew it we were being handed over to Dr. Ryker. It's been so long, it feels weird to be outside of his lab. I-I just feel on edge. Nothing makes sense anymore like it used to…” Her shoulders tensed again as she hugged underneath her knees, looking at the grains on the wood below instead of up at Oscar.

“Hey… I…It's okay if you feel on edge and stuff. I'm still not gonna hurt you… And I won't let that monster get a hold of you again.” He sounded so serious, Sammy wanted to believe that he would protect her.

Her eyes widened and quickly looked up again as she realised something.

“Shit. Ryker's probably noticed I'm gone by now… Oscar— Did you take care of the cameras when you came in?” She asked urgently. In the heat of the moment she hadn't even thought to ask, and now that she was thinking about it she felt nauseous.

The red-haired human paled at her question.

“I-it was dark— I didn't even…” He stammered as he immediately realized how badly he had fucked up. He genuinely hadn't thought about there being cameras in that secret lab, because it was dark and definitely an illegal lab. He hadn't seen any red dots in the corners to signal that a camera was running, and he let his guard down.

Sammy felt a cold chill run up her spine.

“He— he's gonna find me again… He'll probably kill me…” She breathed, her vision unfocusing for a moment before darting up to meet the human's gaze, eyes wide. “Oscar— he's gonna kill you. You’re literally walking distance away from his lab. H-he might already be on his way..!”

At the very least she had her size to her benefit in terms of hiding… Oscar on the other hand was a sitting duck. If Ryker found out where he lived…

“We need to leave.”

“Wh— I-I can't just leave. I have no clue when my mum will be back— what if she gets hurt?” He protested at her suggestion. Sammy grimaced at the mention. As much as she viewed humans as monsters, she could definitely empathise with that sentiment. She wouldn't be much better than a human if she ignored Oscar's feelings on the matter.

“I.. I don't think he would hurt her. Ryker's a prick, but if there was nothing to gain I don't think he would just hurt another human randomly— if anything she's more likely to get hurt if you stay here, because Ryker can use her as collateral with me.” She pointed out.

As soon as she said that though she regretted it and her eyes went wide, body tensing. What if he decides to hand me over now just to avoid getting hurt? I know it's understandable, but I don't want to go back. I-I can't…

She scooted herself back slightly again, glancing towards the shelves that were a few feet away. Even if she got there it would only be a temporary solution. She looked back up at Oscar, but he didn't seem to notice her anxiety, his expression concerned and in deep thought, not even focused on her.

Soon enough, he reached a decision. Sammy bristled as his gaze fell upon her again, awaiting her doomed verdict.

“Okay. Okay… I'll text my mum and tell her I'll be at Freddie’s in case she gets back. I know a place we can stay. Nothing homey…not that this place is that homey either, but it'll do.”

She blinked in surprise.

What…he'll actually help..? But…

“You’re not going back there again. Over my dead body.” He spoke firmly. Her heart fluttered and a warmth filled her chest at his words, not expecting him to be so resolved about keeping her away from Ryker. Her muscles relaxed slightly, the urge to dash for cover fading quickly as she stared up at him.

“I…I'll have to put you in my pocket again though so we can get there… Is that okay?” He asked softly. This time Sammy didn't feel as petrified over the idea. Sure it would be uncomfortable— one good thing wasn't enough to get rid of the years of bad she had been through, but it was progress.

She nodded, feeling heat rise to her cheeks again as Oscar smiled. Although she couldn't help but flinch as he began to sit up, when he lowered his hand towards her palm up she couldn't help but feel…almost safe. She was sure the feeling would fade soon enough…

“Here. I'll pack some stuff first, then we can head off, yeah?”

Sammy nodded once more, and after a brief moment of hesitation she climbed onto his hand so they could get going as soon as possible.

. . . . .

A light flickered in the distance.

Tanner almost forgot what light looked like. It was that same odd feeling you would get after closing your eyes in a bright room for longer than a few seconds— he knew his memories were bright, but after being surrounded by this all encompassing darkness for so long he just struggled to picture it.

“H-hello…?” His voice echoed in the void, repeating back to him, taunting him with the idea of not being alone. How long had he been stuck here? It could have been a day, it could have been a year, Tanner truly couldn't tell.

He was afraid to go towards the light. Isn't that what people say you see when you die? Am I dying..?

He felt so cold he wouldn't be surprised. Maybe it would even be nice to embrace it. Will it be warm? Maybe I'll see mum and dad again…

Tanner shook his head quickly to dissuade those thoughts. I can't see them. Sammy's still waiting for me… She'll save me soon.

As his gaze fell downwards he let out a small gasp, finding that because of the faint light he could actually see himself again. It was dim, but tears sprung to his eyes just watching his fingers move, staring at them and feeling them with his other hand. They're still here… I'm still here…

The light in the distance flickered again and Tanner's eyes widened as he realised he was going to be plunged into darkness again. He began to try moving towards it, but in a space with no walls, floors, or ceilings, moving felt practically impossible.

“No!”

Please don't make it dark again..! Just a little bit longer!

At this point he had spent so much time isolated that he couldn't tell the difference between thinking and speaking. He reached out in desperation, the light dancing across his skin and making it almost glow red. The sunlight. I remember.

And then it was gone.

Tanner's breath hitched. In the darkness he couldn't see anything. Eyes open or closed, it didn't make a difference, so he wasn't sure which one he picked as tears began to stream down his cheeks, a sob held in his throat and coming out as a whimper as he curled into himself again. He trembled, the abyss swallowing him whole again.

She'll save me soon…

#g/t community #ocs #g/t artist #g/t writer #g/t #borrowers #giant/tiny #g/t fearplay #g/t fluff #g/t writing #giant/tiny writing

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dailyrothko · 30 days

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I'm sorry to hear about David's passing. Even though I'm an outsider of sorts, David was always good to me and quick to tell little stories of the paintings I posted. He had seen so many in their original collector homes. He always knew the literary references Rothko was using and liked to make pithy remarks about Rothko's sometimes rapidly changing mind on things such as exhibition lighting.

David was certainly one of the preeminent Rothko experts and wrote the works on canvas catalogue raisonne, an indispensable resource.

Those of you that read my post on abstract art and the CIA yesterday might note that David is quoted as he often would be on all matters of abstract expressionism.

Much love to David's friends and family.

#david anfam #mark rothko #abstract expressionism #jackson pollock #clyfford still

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byunpum · 2 years

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Experiment 56 [part 4]

Neteyam x Human reader ( like a mix of human and Navi )

and sullyFAM x human reader, spider x reader , and quaritch x reader (dont blame me )

Tw: mmm neteyam baby, reader being mutant, neytiri being a sweetheart-mother, jealousy, My daddy issues with jake, spider being spider,Watch out for quaritch, all the characters are aged up 20's.

POV: Y/N is surprised that it is an indispensable piece for the human race. Her family will do everything possible to keep her hidden and safe…

Experiment 56 masterlist | Experiment 56 sequel Masterlist

Note: I wanted to write a lot of things in this part, but I didn't want it to be so long. But I still hope you like it. I am really enjoying making this series, soon I will be posting a masterlist of this series to make it easier to find all the parts. Thank you very much for your support. And remember that if you want me to do more stuff about other characters, go ahead, the request is open. From now on I warn you that I am not very expert in this Navi culture, but I did my best. And I'll be using events that happened in the movie, but they won't be exactly the same. And sorry for the spelling. English is not my mother tongue.

The drive was long and very exhausting. It was two nights of travel, jake was already worried about spider and you. You were more fragile than the others, so he decided to take a break, it was 2:00 a.m. on the third night. Jake signaled with his hand for them to land on a small islet. Everyone following jake and they landed.

"Let's get some rest, at sunrise we will be leaving. We are very close to our destination" said jake, as he took some things down from his ikran. Neteyam got off his ikran and helped you down. Neteyam looked down and gave you a small smile. Everyone needed this rest, the exhausted face of the group was visible. Neytiri called you to help her with tuk, tuk might be taller than you, but she was still your little sister. And you knew she was a little uncomfortable, so you sat down on the floor and held tuk in your arms while she was still asleep. Neytiri and Jake were making a improvised shelter, it wasn't the best, but it would give them warmth and a dry place to rest. While from the others, they were taking some things out of their pack.

"Are you okay?" loak sat down next to you. "Yeah, I just…I miss home that's all." Loak put his head on your shoulder, he didn't have to talk to answer you. That's why he was your best friend. A memory comes to your mind, you remember when loak was born you were so impressed, he was your baby, your little brother. You helped neytiri with his food, to walk, to talk. Even kiri and neteyam got jealous, because you didn't want to play with them anymore, you just wanted to take care of loak. When you two were growing up you had many arguments, but you always solved them by hugging and taking a nap. You laughed a little at the memory of those times. "What are you thinking?" Loak looks up." I'm thinking how much I love this family, they are so important to me. Look at what they are doing for me. They could have left me or given me up. But no…they're sacrificing everything…everything" You hadn't noticed that everyone was listening to you. Jake comes over to you, and settles in behind you, so that your back is against his chest. He gives you a big hug "How many times do we have to tell you…you're our girl. No matter what, what you look like, or where you come from. Look" you look up, as jake keeps talking " mama loves you, and kiri, loak, spider, tuk and neteyam love you. And we will do whatever it takes to protect you." Says jake, while kiri hugs you, she was already crying. Everyone comes over to give you a hug. Between tears and sobs, everyone breaks up laughing a little." Ok, everything is ready, let's rest" jake looks you in the eyes, and arranges a little bit your hair.

All the boys including you went to sleep, the order was as follows: tuk, loak, spider and kiri were together. Then a little further apart from the group were you and neteyam. Your back was to him, but neteyam was right behind her, with her tail wrapped around your leg. And one of her hands was on your waist. From the distance, jake and neytiri were watching the scene.

"don't you think… you know?" says neytiri while looking at her partner. "Are you talking about neteyam and y/n?" jake looks at the scene again and sees how you and neteyam are further apart from the group. As they are cozying up. A very common behavior in couples. " jake… I noticed the behavior that neteyam has towards y/n. It seems like they are…. Couple." Jake doesn't know what to say back to neytiri. "we can't blame him love." "but ma jake, they have grown up together. How is it possible" neytiri is looking with confusion at her partner. She couldn't understand how you two could have fallen in love. "love, you know the relationship that neteyam and y/n was never the same as with the other kids, I know neteyam likes y/n since his 8 years old. Yes they grew up together, but we have always paired them up".

"what? now it's my fault?" neytiri slaps jake on the shoulder," hey hehehe remember that time, you said that y/n was the determined partner for neteyam".

"yeah, but it was to get ninat's mom off my back. That woman is crazy" defended neytiri. There was a short silence until neytiri spoke, "I'm not worried about them being together…I prefer it that way. But how will they mate. Y/N will be able to give birth to a navi child?" jake didn't know how to answer this to neytiri. "I don't know, we'll have to wait. Besides…we are assuming they are in a relationship" jake joked with neytiri. "I'm his mother, I know there's something. I know everything." Jake laughed a little, and got up, took neytiri's hand and led her to the makeshift planter to rest for a bit.

At sunrise they all fly to their destination, it wasn't far away. So the trip went quickly. As they got closer, you could notice the whole ecosystem of this new clan, wow… it was beautiful. Crystal clear waters, warm air. Norm had told you several things, about the different clans that were in Pandora. But this was more than you had imagined, it was beautiful. You were landing on the sand, as you watched the locals approaching. You were next to neteyam, his hand was holding yours. You were a little scared, how was he going to ration. After all you and spider were human. You felt someone take your other hand and saw that it was spider. Spider looked you in the eye, he was scared, just like you. I said "calm down…we will be fine". You saw two large figures walking towards you, you knew one of them was Tonowari, but the female figure next to him you didn't know.

"I see you, Ronal, I see you, Tonowari," said Jake as he greeted him. "I see you, jake sully…. What brings you here?" asked tonowari, as ronal examined the family and noticed two small figures." We are here to… ask for shelter" ronal interrupts jake, as he walks over to spider and you. "You have demons near your family" said ronal, while examining spider. "I promise you, they are innocent. The girl is our daughter, and the boy is a friend of the family. They are good, I promise." jake was trying to convince the metkayina clan leaders. "And what is this?" Ronal looks at your braid, she can't believe her eyes. A navi braid, how is that possible? "this is a monst…" before she could finish, Neytiri stepped in front of her, pulling you away from Ronal. Neteyam pulled you close to him, while your other siblings went into defense mode. Oh no, thought jake, he didn't want this to become a problem.

"don't you dare say anything about my DAUGHTER. She is so navi, just like everyone here. You respect her" neytiri and ronal were furious. "calm down everyone…" tonowari said, while jake calmed neytiri down. You were holding neteyam's hand, loak was next to you making a wall style. "We just want shelter… we will learn their ways and adapt" jake looks at ronal and tonowari. They have a little staring match, until the man turns and looks at jake, "it's okay. You can stay, you will learn our culture and you will adapt. All of you" Tonowari looked at the two of you, you and spider swallowed. "yes, thank you very very much".

"my sons, tsireya and aonung will help you adapt" you could see the boy's displeased face. Although the girl looked very happy about her father's comment.

Ronal took another look and looked at the couple in front of him "later we will talk…and they will explain to us how she got that…and where she came from" Ronal pointed at you, while Jake just nodded. Neytiri had had enough of everything and they had just arrived. "Come with me, I'll show you to your new home" tsireya commented to them, she was the only one who was listening to them. You knew her kindness was genuine, you could feel it.

Tsireya guided them to their new home, she told us that the correct name was "marui". You found the differences between you and them interesting. You were behind neytiri, tuk was jumping behind you, while neteyam, spider, loak and kiri followed. "Here is your home, I hope it is to your liking, anything you need let us know" tsireya informs us, "thank you" we all say. You can see how loak and tsireya look at each other and then exchange looks." Heeee easy…we just got here" you joke with loak," shut up!!!" loak wants to die of embarrassment. "oh, one other thing…after you settle in, we'll wait for you on the coast. You'd better start your classes right away. See you" tsireya said goodbye.

"ok, family all together" jake said, neteyam drags loak to his side, kiri sits next to him. You settle next to tuk, sitting her on your lap, while she plays with your hair. Spider stays in the corner. He didn't want to interrupt. "spider I said everyone!!!" jake stated, spider came over and sat next to loak. "well… we're very lucky to have been accepted. i want you to behave yourselves, is that clear?" jake pointed to loak, spider, and you. Believe it or not, you guys were the trouble trio. And you always got neteyam involved. Kiri wasn't a troublemaker, but sometimes she would join them on adventures. "Yes, sir," they all said.

"mom, I want to go home" said tuk, while neytiri stroked her cheek, "hey, what does your father always say?" neytiri looks at them all." The sully's are always united." Jake claps a little." Cheers guys!!!! "jake tries to cheer up the situation, he takes tuk in his arms and carries her outside the marui, so she could see the view. Neytiri accompanies them, after all this was going to be their new home.

"Wow, I'm dying" you say, as you lie down on the ground. Spider laughs at you and imitates your movements. "I keep forgetting you two are a couple of lazy bums." Loak complains, "but yeah, I'm exhausted" he lays down next to you. Kiri laughs a little." Believe it or not, I'm happy…we're all here…together" kiri joins them on the floor and lies down. Neteyam sighs a little," hey come…come here." You wave your arms, inviting him to join the loose group. "come on!!! I know what you want, just for a moment." You tell him winking at him, neteyam laughs and walks over to where you are. He literally lies down on top of you. You scream a little, but you hug him. "yaaa…don't start with your lovers stuff." Says loak, as he tries to get neteyam off of you. Spider looks at the scene a little serious, even though he didn't want to admit it he was a little jealous, your relationship with neteyam.

"You're jealous" said neteyam, fighting with his brother." jealous!!!??? Of what?" loak, keep pushing him " of me not hugging you" neteyam slides down and ends up on top of loak and hugs him." Yaaaaaaaa let me go!!!" you laugh as you watch them play. You had your differences, but you knew they loved each other. You turn your eyes to see spider, "is something wrong?" you ask him, his face was very serious. "no, it's nothing" spider changes his expression. You knew something was wrong with him, he was usually happy, he was the most cheerful of them all. You assume his change is because they were in a new place, that must be it.

Jake and Neytiri come back in, and notice that Neteyam and Loak were already fighting. Kiri was laughing and you and spider were trying to get things out of the boxes. "hey guys!!" jake looked at them" sorry" neteyam looked at him sideways. There was silence, until jake jumps on top of the boys. Neytiri sighed and let them play, there were few times when Jake was not so strict with the boys. Neytiri walked over to where you and spider were setting things up. "Thanks for helping…spider" said neytiri, you don't comment anything, your mother naturally isn't nice to spider, but you see she is trying.

Later, you all go out to look for tsireya and her brother aonung. "hey, we're here, come on !!!!" shouts tsireya, as everyone jumps in and jumps into the water. You were frozen on the edge. "come on, it's okay. It's safe here" tsireya tries to convince you, but what she didn't know is that you weren't a big fan of the deep, you knew how to swim, but you didn't like it. Neteyam knew that, so she went to the edge and raised her arms, "come on, come down calmly and I'll hold you". "but I'm going to drown!!!" you say as you try to calmly lower yourself into his arms, aonung laughs at you "you guys seem to be very good in the trees, but here…" tsireya gives him a smack, and looks at him telling him to get a grip. You finally enter the water, you were holding neteyam's neck. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it," said tsireya, and you did. A week had passed and you were already competing with loak and spider to see who could hold their breath the longest. Spider got used to it very quickly, you didn't know how he did it… but he learned everything so fast. You admired that about him, you could barely swim.

It wasn't until it was time to ride an ilu, you were so excited. Aonung had told you that there were some smaller ones, and they were the perfect size for you. For Jake this wasn't enough though, he was right next to Aonung, making sure everything was okay. As soon as you saw the ilus, you fell in love with one in particular, it was very pretty. The creature came up to you, and nuzzled its face into your stomach. You laughed a little. Aonung indicated that you could now join her, you took your braid and connected it to the ilu. Aonung was surprised, because the creature remained calm. You pulled the creature up, and it began to swim. Wow…this was so new to you and you loved it. A smile came out of jake's face, it was the first time he saw you bond with a creature, and you had no problems, he was so proud of you.

You loved it all, they had never questioned your appearance, neither yours nor spider's. You had heard some comments from the younger metkayina, though. But even Ronal was accepting of you…you liked to go where she would teach the other clan girls how to prepare medicines. She even prepared a special cream, for you and spider to put on and protect you from the sun. You loved spending time with tsireya, tuk and kiri, and discovering places with loak and spider. But most of all, you loved meeting neteyam in a secret place. According to neteyam, he found it by accident and realized that no one went there. So, in the evenings, you two would meet there. To spend some time alone.

It was in the afternoon, everyone was finishing their tasks, neytiri had told you to look for some shells on the beach, you weren't complaining. You weren't a big fan of swimming all day, so you went without a problem. Besides, your snail collection needed new pieces. You were walking along the beach, until you heard someone approaching, you looked to see who it was and saw spider coming up.

"hello!!!" said spider, as he runs towards you," hello…Are you done with your tasks?" you ask, as you continue collecting snails. " Yes, actually there wasn't much to do. So everyone went home" replied spider, while trying to tell you something else.

" Is something wrong, I've noticed you're acting a little strange?" you ask, as you sit down on the sand. Spider takes a seat next to you. "Well yes" you knew spider was nervous because he started playing with one of the decorations on his loincloth. "You and neteyam are a couple, right?" says spider, you knew how this was going to end. "Well, we're a couple…we haven't bonded before eywa yet. But…" spider interrupts you." You can't do that…. y/n, you and neteyam are totally different", you couldn't believe what spider was telling you. "wait what????" you question him.

" Yeah, what will your parents say, and everyone else. You guys are different in everything. Don't take this the wrong way, but you must be with someone just like you." Says spider, very confident. You take a deep breath, you get up from the floor. "Listen to me spider, you had your chance… and what did you do to me? You humiliated me, you said I was weird, that you wouldn't be with someone like me. And now when I'm happy, when I finally find someone to love me. You come to claim me?" you say annoyed.

After the first reject that spider gave you, at 17 years old you two decided to go out. It was not for a long time, but it was long enough to hear how spider talked to other navi guys, that he was only dating you because he felt sorry for you. You remember how it hurt, and how neteyam was always by your side. Still, you forgive spider, and you continued to be friends.

Spider stands up, "wait no, I don't want you to be annoyed with me…I just." Spider looks down, "you nothing!!!! I've given my neck for you…I had you brought to us. And here you are claiming me who I want." You yell at spider," And I thank you, but he doesn't deserve you. y/n" spider tries to grab your arm, but you break free from his grip and keep walking to the house. You hear spider shouting from far away.

Neteyam was on his way to the beach to check on you, but he saw you walking in disgust. As you were getting closer, you stopped "hey, what's up?" asks neteyam as he gets down to your level. You walk over and hug him. "Ma neteyam, they keep hurting me. They keep doing it…and I can't shake this feeling of guilt" you say, as tears stream down your face. "what are you talking about?" neteyam caresses your back and takes your face in her hands, to give you a kiss. "Hey, why don't we give these snails to mom and then go to our place, okay?" Neteyam says as he adjusts your hair a little. You nod your head, as you go ahead to go to the house. Neteyam gets up and walks behind you, but looks back. He notices how Spider is walking in the same direction you were coming from. Spider was already getting on Neteyam's nerves.

On the other side of Pandora…

"It's been two weeks already…two" screams General Ardmore . "I know general, but we didn't find anything. They're missing" says Quaritch, trying to defend himself. Lyle was at his side, and gave him a worried look. "Colonel, I need you to bring that girl to me. And I don't care if she's still alive. I want her in the facility in a week. That's a damn order" Quaritch nodded with his face. He lifted himself from the seat, and walked out of the briefing room. Lyle followed him, not daring to say anything. Quaritch stops dead in his track "you know what the problem is, Lyle" said Quaritch "what is it, sir?" Lyle walks forward, "I don't want to catch her…something in me tells me to leave her alone. It's like a force telling me to leave her." Quaritch brings his hand to his chest, as he looks at Lyle with concern," it won't be…that thing the navi say. what is it? mmm eywa?" Quaritch laughs a little at Lyle," you're really crazy, you don't believe in that stuff?" miles wanted to think Lyle was crazy, but inside he was thinking the same thing. " I don't know, you know that these….. points to his body are connected and blah blah blah blah with that spirit stuff. And who knows, if they're telling you something." There was a silence between the two men. Quaritch gave Lyle's shoulder a squeeze, "who knows, who knows? But if so…whatever it is is talking to me. It's telling me I should have her…to myself." Miles chuckled a little to himself. As he kept walking to get everything ready.

p.s: I wanted to focus more on the relationship of the characters, than on how they lived together in the Metkayina clan. The good stuff is coming soon ahhh. I hope that between today or tomorrow chapter 5 will be ready. Kisses!!!

Neytiri babies: @st4rrry @valeriinee @inutheangel @gielrmn @sloppierjewel @purple7theparty @itscheybaby @ssc7514 @namorslit @ducks118 @tpwkstiles @elli-aesthetics @nao-cchi @uselessbutinteresting @msjae @austynparksandpizza @gamorxa @andyyy4444 @itssomeonereading @meivap @barbii04 @mm-nope @dorck26 @nessrin @purple7theparty @ssc7514 @sloppierjewel @yeosxxx @legendleopard100 @pandoragalora @jayzes-blog @ducks118 @laylasbunbunny @kyriekurokami @heesoftiefreak @teamanime @d4rno @dumb-fawkin-bitch-bitch @burdeningbitch @allsouls-emma @aceofheartzzz @famousbagelhandspurse @fanficblogs @lilyofthetigers @mjnij

@cherrywinesab @sloppierjewel @bubbleguppy0315 @ellielovesrobinarellano @mrs-sullys-blog @lovekeeho @vectoriscommitingcrimes @kimtaehussy @bimbotinkerbell @aceofheartzzz

If there is any problem with the tags, let me know. I have had many people asking me to be on the tag list, if you are not on the list yet you can send me a message.

#avatar the way of water #avatar 2022 #avatar x reader #avatar x you #avatar x y/n #neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x fem reader #neteyam x mate reader #neteyam imagine #human reader #human y/n #female reader #female y/n

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thatdammchickennugget · 3 months

Text

Whisker Me Away

pairing -theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings - non-compliance with restaurant hygiene standards, remi the rat, minor confrontation, smut, unprotected smut, semi public, this is just a silly little joke pls don't take anything I post serious, MINORS DNI

a/n - was inspired by @machiavellli sharing her böötigel blurb and decided I'm finally brave enough to share this. based on this silly request @finalgirllx got, thank you for giving me permission to write it. credit for the final line of dialogue goes to the amazing @fuckaperioddrama

request - Hiya!!!!!! Can i request a theo oneshot where he’s the head chef at a restaurant and you complain that the spaghetti and meatballs are cold and theo says he’ll come out to talk to you but you’re already shoving your way to the back and then you see him take ratatouille out of his hat and then it ends in smut? Thanksies! xx

wordcount - 1.8k

You sit at a small, candle-lit table in the corner of one of the trendiest new restaurants in Diagon Alley, frowning at your plate of spaghetti and meatballs. The atmosphere is perfect, with soft jazz playing in the background and twinkling fairy lights casting a warm glow. Everything is ideal—except your food.

You pick up your fork and take another bite, but the cold noodles and tepid meatballs only deepen your disappointment. With a sigh, you wave over the nearest server.

"Excuse me, but my spaghetti is cold," you say, trying to keep your voice polite despite your growing frustration.

The server's eyes widen, and she nods quickly. "I'm so sorry about that. I'll let the chef know right away."

You watch her scurry off toward the kitchen, and a few moments later, she returns with an apologetic smile. "Chef Nott would like to speak with you about your dish. He insists on addressing these matters personally."

You nod, but before she can finish her sentence, you’re already out of your seat, determination driving you toward the kitchen doors. If the chef wants to talk, then you'll give him a piece of your mind face-to-face.

Pushing through the swinging doors, you enter the bustling kitchen, filled with the clatter of pots and pans and the sizzle of various dishes being prepared. You scan the room, your eyes finally landing on a tall figure in a crisp white chef's coat and a tall hat. Theodore Nott.

You’ve heard about him—how he’s revolutionized wizarding cuisine with his inventive dishes and meticulous attention to detail. But right now, all you care about is the subpar spaghetti on your table.

"Chef Nott?" you call out, striding forward with purpose.

He turns to face you, one eyebrow raised in mild surprise. He’s even more striking up close, with sharp features softened slightly by a dusting of stubble and intense, deep-set eyes that seem to see right through you.

"Yes, that’s me," he replies, his voice calm and measured. "You must be the customer with the cold spaghetti."

You nod, folding your arms across your chest. "I just wanted a nice dinner, but my food is ice-cold. I hope you have an explanation for that."

The chef's lips twitch into a slight smile, and he reaches up to adjust his hat. "I do apologize for that. Let me make it up to you."

Before you can respond, his chef hat is being lifted up just a tad, and to your utter astonishment, a small rat pokes its head out. You blink, wondering if you’ve somehow wandered into a bizarre dream.

"Oh, this is Remy," Theo says, his tone casual as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. "He's quite the expert in flavors."

You gape at him, trying to process the absurdity of the situation. "Is this a joke?" you manage to ask.

Theo chuckles, the sound warm and rich. "Not at all. Remy here has a unique talent for finding the perfect balance of flavors. Let me reheat your dish and make sure it's exactly as it should be."

You watch, dumbfounded, as Remy the rat crawls out from under the hat and down the chef’s arm. The rat grabs a stirring spoon, hops over to the boiling pot on the stove and sets to work.

Chef Nott catches your wide-eyed look and grins. "I know it seems strange, but trust me, you'll love the result."

Despite your initial shock, you can’t help but be intrigued. You’ve never seen anything like this before, and the sheer oddity of it all piques your curiosity. You lean against a nearby counter, watching as man and rat move in sync to enhance your dish.

Within minutes, the tantalizing aroma of fresh herbs and perfectly cooked pasta fills the kitchen. Your stomach growls, reminding you of your hunger. The chef plates the dish with a flourish, then hands it to you with a proud smile.

"Here you go, fresh and hot. Try it now," he says, his eyes sparkling with confidence.

You take the plate and head back to your table, aware of him watching you from the door leading into the kitchen as you sit down. The first bite is a revelation—the spaghetti is perfectly al dente, the sauce rich and flavorful, and the meatballs tender and savory. It’s like tasting a masterpiece.

You glance back at the kitchen, meeting his gaze. Unable to resist, you wave him over. He approaches, his expression curious and slightly amused.

"I have to admit," you say as he stands beside your table, "this is the best spaghetti and meatballs I've ever had."

Chef Nott’s smile widens, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "I’m glad you think so. Remy and I make a good team."

You laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting you. "I never thought I'd say this, but a rat might be my new favorite chef."

He chuckles, and the sound sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. "Remy has that effect on people. But I'm glad we could turn your evening around."

You find yourself caught in his gaze, the connection between you electric. There’s something about his presence—his confidence, his passion—that draws you in.

"Thank you," you say softly, not just for the food but for the entire experience.

He steps closer and leans down to meet your gaze, his eyes darkening with an intensity that makes your heart race. "You're welcome," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

Before you can think, you’re both leaning in, the space between you shrinking. Your breath catches as his lips brush yours, the kiss tentative at first but quickly deepening. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you melt into him, the warmth of his body against yours igniting a fire inside you.

When you finally pull back, you’re both breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. His eyes are dark with desire, and you know yours must mirror his.

"How about dessert?" he whispers, his lips grazing your ear.

You feel a thrilling tingle spread from where his breath tickles your skin, down to your toes. Your voice is barely more than a whisper as you reply, “I think I’d like that.”

His eyes flicker with a mix of amusement and something deeper, more intense. He takes your hand, guiding you through the kitchen, weaving expertly between bustling chefs and simmering pots. You can feel the eyes of the staff on you, but it only adds to the heady rush of the moment.

He leads you to a door at the back, pushing it open to reveal a small, dimly lit storage room. Shelves lined with jars of spices, bottles of oils, and boxes of fresh ingredients surround you. The door clicks shut behind you, and the room is filled with the intoxicating scent of the kitchen mingled with something else—something distinctly him.

Theodore turns to you, his gaze locking onto yours with a fierce intensity. Before you can say anything, he steps forward, gently but firmly pushing you back against one of the shelves. The cool metal against your back contrasts with the heat radiating from his body as he presses against you.

His lips find yours again, and this time, the kiss is anything but tentative. It’s urgent, hungry, filled with a need that matches your own. His hands roam, one tangling in your hair, the other sliding down to grip your waist, pulling you even closer.

As Theodore's hands explore the curves of your body, you feel a surge of desire wash over you, igniting a fire within. The shelves creak slightly under the weight of your entwined bodies as he lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist.

He carries you to the nearby countertop and with a deft movement, he pushes aside the pots and pans, making room for the both of you. You tear at his chef's apron, not caring about the buttons flying around the room as your hands roam freely over his sculpted chest, feeling the rhythm of his racing heartbeat beneath your touch.

His lips find yours once more, the kiss deepening as your bodies meld together in a primal dance of passion. Clothes become nothing more than hindrances as they are shed with urgency, revealing the raw desire that simmers between you.

With a gasp, you feel Theodore push down your panties in one swift movement, leaving you exposed completely. Your thighs tremble in anticipation of the next onslaught of pleasure. You throw your head back with a moan when his finger finally finds your sensitive clit, pushing down in gentle circles as he takes the opportunity to claim your neck with his mouth.

Your nails scrape across his scalp, his mouth sucking hard on your flesh, causing a sharp intake of air to burst past your clenched teeth. His free hand slides up to cup one of your breasts, his other now pressing insistently against your entrance, urging you to ride his finger deeper and harder. With your legs wrapped tightly around his hips and your body arching off the counter, you’re helplessly lost in the bliss, unable to hold back another soft moan.

A second finger is added, and you let out a cry, riding it out as your orgasm hits hard and fast. You only take a moment to ride out your high before your hands slide back to his chest and then further down, scrambling to rid him of his boxers. You don't miss the hitch in his breathing as you tug the fabric of his boxers over his hips and away.

He watches you, eyes half lidded, with a slight smirk on his face. His erection springs free, and you lick your lips, eyes burning with lust and desire. He doesn't waste another second, his hold tight on your hips as he pushes himself into you.

You gasp at the sudden intrusion, a delicious shiver running down your body as he fills you to the brim. After a few moments of slow thrusting, you can no longer stand it; you need him now, you crave to have his cock buried deep inside of you, to feel that glorious tension as he explodes into you. So you grab his shoulders and pull him roughly against your breasts, your cries loud enough to be heard outside in the kitchen.

He grunts in response, his movements growing faster, rougher as he thrusts into you harder, deeper. Finally, his climax hits, and you feel him shudder against your core, his release shooting hot streaks of sensation throughout your body.

You both fall apart, gasping for breath and exhausted, panting for air. Theo lets out a deep breath, leaning back against the shelf as he watches you pick your clothing off the floor with a smirk before he says, “You can come back to rata this touille anytime.”

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teecupangel · 3 months

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Hi teecup, I hope ur having a great day/noon/night!

Forgive me if the things i'm about to say don't make much sense. It's been a vey, very, very, difficult time for me and my countrymen here, and my ability to make coherent sentences have declined drastically. So, yeah... BUT! That doesn't matter haha.

Anyways, I had a thought. And i'm not even sure how or why i got it but.... hear me out now...

Our boy, Desmond, gets thrown back in time as usual, same old same old, right? Exept, this time he doesn't end up in the Big Three™'s time-line. He ends up in Al-Mualim's time. *insert mind-blown emoji here cuz i can't find it rn*

And ik that i'm not a certified AC Expert like u and many others, and i haven't really finished any of the AC games yet (i've only seen bits of AC III and have only started AC 2, I also haven't finished AC 1)

But I do know that he wasn't really that creepy and evil in his youth/ b4 he became The Old Man of the Moutain, so i was thinking maybe Desmond ends up in that era of Al Mualim or is it Rashid al-Din Sinan? I know that he's based on a real historical figure but i'm not so sure if he's called that in-game?

And knowing Desmond, he'd probably get the urge to kill Rashid (i hope i'm using the name correctly) the time he figures shit out and connect that dots. But he would end up not doing that, cuz u know, it might fuck up the time-line and Altaïr might end up not being born, creating a domino-effect.

I want Desmond to meet Rashid before he starts to becom the Al Mualim we know today, so that Desmond can see how he was b4 the evants of AC 1.

Maybe Rashid's an arrogant ass, or a nerdy loser, or a popular assassin- who knows! The possibilites are endless!! (or maybe he's an obsessive bastard who gets obsessed with Desmond cuz he's just full of mysteries and wonders :Dc )

And blah blah blah, plot here, plot there, Isu-bullshit this, time shenanigans that, and BOOM they meet.

And romance ensues? :3 (romace wil absolutely ensue :}}} )

NOW, BEFORE- BEFORE YOU TIE ME TO A STAKE AND BURN ME ALIVE FOR THIS- i think it'd be a cute idea, and who knows? maybe Rashid was hot in his prime *insert lenny face cuz even after all these years i still don't know how to type it and is too lazy to cop paste it* and maybe he liked to solve mysteries and had a thing for the unexplainable. And Desmond is the most unexplainable, most bizarre thing to have graced the earth :33333.

Now that i've got this idea out of my system i'm gonna go pray for the down fall of my coutry's shit for brain, good for nothing military government/hj.

bye! *evaporates*

I hope you’re doing alright and I’m sorry that it took two months before I could answer your ask TTATT

As far as I know, he was only called Al Mualim because of legal reasons but Rashid ad-Din Sinan was the leader of the Assassins in Masyaf during 1191 so it’s safe to assume Al Mualim is AC’s version of Rashid (historically he died in 1193, not 1191.

Okay. We can make this work.

We put Desmond at around the same time he’s the recruit and we make it hard for him to realize he’s Al Mualim until it’s too late by doing one simple thing:

Desmond doesn’t know Al Mualim’s real name.

He always knew it as Al Mualim. As far as he knew, Al Mualim was his actual name.

Then he remembered that Al Mualim can mean mentor and bangs his head on the nearest flat surface.

His mission has been clear from the start.

Become an Assassin, take out Al Mualim before he does shit, find Umar and adopt him then play matchmaker so Altaïr would be born.

And no.

Desmond wasn’t going to think about the whole “can you truly be sure that the person who will be born will be Altaïr if you change the circumstances of his conception?”

Yeah.

His head hurts just thinking about it so he won’t.

For now, he’ll focus on his training while keeping a look out for anyone who gives of Al Mualim vibes.

What’s the Al Mualim vibes?

Manipulative old man vibes.

The problem is…

Rashid is one of the recruits in the same batch as Desmond and he becomes Desmond’s closest friend.

And there was no way Desmond would ever be friends with a future power hungry asshole like Al Mualim.

No way.

The way their relationship becomes romantic really depends on the kind of personality young Rashid would have.

A nerdy loser who starts making a name for himself because of his intelligence and tactical mind would start off as the kid Desmond sorta looks after. When he starts to show that his strength lies in making plans and quick judgments, he becomes the man whispering on Desmond’s ear. Providing plans and suggestions while giving Desmond a heads up on the less savory words people say about him. Desmond would never think this Rashid is Al Mualim because he’s nice and truly do want to help Desmond. This is also how Rashid would show his love for Desmond and, really, Desmond would think they’re bros and when he realizes that Rashid actually loves him, he’d think “oh, I am Ezio’s descendant”

An arrogant ass Rashid would butt heads with Desmond but Desmond would find himself fond of the man because he reminds him of AC1 Altaïr. This is the Rashid who would definitely be counted as a tsundere and their relationship would start when Rashid just flatout tells Desmond that he wants to do unspeakable things to him while they’re arguing. Desmond is offended because “tugging on my pigtails doesn’t work in real life, dumbass!” and Rashid is just “???” because what the fuck are pigtails??? Lots of awkwardness until Desmond realize that butting heads with Rashid is really how they flirt.

Now. Popular Assassin Rashid is more on the side of polite but is absolutely Desmond’s rival. Whatever it is, the two of them are always competing. Unlike the arrogant ass version, this Rashid is always nice to Desmond. The whole “no hard feelings” and pure competitiveness are what drives their relationship. This is the one where the two of them spar privately one time and things happen. They would try to distant themselves from one another for a bit until they finally talk it out. Rashid honestly didn’t think he loved Desmond until the whole ‘after-sparring’ thing.

Whichever you pick as Rashid’s background, he will become obsessed with Desmond but it’s more on the side of “I will do everything to make Desmond happy” which is good for Desmond but not really good for anyone against him.

Desmond is the one who adopts Umar in this one and Umar imprints on him like a baby duckling to a mama duckling. Everyone actually assumed Umar is his bastard son. Desmond ignores it even though he’s only like… a decade and a half older than Umar.

Rashid definitely treats him like Desmond’s son. He’s Umar’s favorite of all of Desmond’s friends.

And really, Desmond should have seen that as a hint of Rashid’s ‘future’.

Speaking of the future.

He’s been looking for Al Mualim this entire time and he has his suspects (Rashid, however, is not on the list) but honestly?

He’s just waiting for the person who would be picked as the one to lead the expansion to Masyaf since that would be Al Mualim.

Desmond has, unfortunately, fucked up the timeline so badly that the person chosen to lead the expansion?

It was Desmond.

Sidebar: Faheem would be that cute younger brother who turns grumpy when he grows up. Desmond will forever grieve the lost of little cute Faheem. Faheem is always embarrassed when Desmond talked about his ‘past’.

#umar’s parents are pretty much desmond and rashid #desmond would probably realize rashid is al mualim once they’re older #and at that point #he already got his ‘happy ending’#and just goes #“well i guess i fixed him???”#he didn’t fix shit #he just transferred rashid’s desire for power and knowledge #to a desire to be with him #assassin's creed #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #desmond miles #al mualim

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tinyarmedtrex · 1 month

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Hello! Would you do

61. “I love you. I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Please don’t get married.”

for firstprince please? 🤍

Going for the ANGST, I love it. Thank you!

Henry gaped at the ring. It was nestled perfectly in a little red box, the diamonds shining under the light. It was objectively gorgeous. Alex had done a good job. Expensive but not flashy, tasteful.

"Well H?" Alex asked, unable to hide his excitement. "What do you think? Come on," He nudged Henry with an elbow. "I need your thoughts if you're going to be my best man."

Henry choked back a sob. He had to look away as he attempted to school his face into something besides horror and finding that he couldn't. It seemed that his face had forgotten how to smile.

"Don't you think it's a bit soon?"

He didn't have to be looking at Alex to know he was frowning. "It's been a year. We're not getting any younger and Amber isn't going to wait forever."

The response made him wonder if Alex truly wanted to do this. Not that it really mattered, once Alex decided it was nearly impossible to get him to change his mind. Once Alex set his mind to something he was going to make it happen, come hell or high water.

It was one of the many things he loved about Alex. Along with his kindness, his attentiveness, how he knew Henry's exact order for every restaurant, how he would curl up next to Henry and everything bad would seem to disappear, how he never made Henry feel guilty for his bad days and instead sat with him, waiting them out.

Henry had been in love with Alex practically since they met. After a rough start they became friends and then roommates. Henry knew it was risky to room with his unrequited straight man crush but when Alex had asked, he'd found it impossible to say no. And living with him had proved amazing. From the late-night movies to the early morning breakfasts and everything in between, Henry had loved it.

He'd thought that Alex loved it too. He'd never considered that Alex was thinking about the rest of his life, a life where he was married and living elsewhere.

"Henry, what's wrong? I thought you liked her." Alex's voice had shifted to concern. Much like David, Alex was an expert on Henry's mood. Curse him for being so attuned. Just this once he'd like to be able to hide his emotions.

"I do. I -" Henry looked up at Alex. At his warm brown eyes and perfect curls. At the man who had captured his heart years ago, entirely without meaning to.

“Alex, I- I love you. I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Please don’t get married.”

Henry was horrified. He hadn't intended to say it. The words had spilled from his lips like tea from an overfilled cup.

He'd just confessed his feelings to his nearly engaged friend. To his straight best friend.

"I'm so sorry Alex. I should never have- I need to go." Henry turned on his heel and went to his room, throwing items into an overnight bag and then scooping up David. When he went to back into the hall Alex had disappeared. That was probably for the best, though he couldn't deny the pain in his chest.

He went to Pez's, explaining through tears what he'd done before collapsing onto the guest bed.

Three days later and Henry was still there. He hadn't heard from Alex, not a peep since his idiotic confession. He was still kicking himself for it. He'd ruined everything, a lifelong friendship, and for what? Nothing. He wouldn't blame Alex if the man never wanted to see him again.

"Hazza," Pez sang before opening his door. "There's someone here to see you."

He sat up, brushing the Jaffa cake crumbs off his shirt. "Tell me you didn't call Bea." He didn't want anyone else to know what he'd done.

"It's not Bea." Pez said before flitting away.

Then another figure filled the doorway. Alex. He looked nearly as rough as Henry, with dark circles under his eyes and lifeless curls.

Henry sprang to his feet, grateful that Pez had been making him shower every day. "Alex I-" Oh what to even say? "I'm sorry. I truly am." Barely five words in and he was already crying. "What I said- I put us both in an awful spot. I hope you can forgive me, one day. I know-"

His speech was cut off as Alex surged forwarded, pressing his lips to Henry's. Henry sank into it. It was everything he'd always imagined it would be. Alex's lips were soft against Henry's, warm and plush. He could have lost himself in it if not for the gnawing pit in his stomach.

He broke the kiss and started to ask, "What-"

"I love you too." Alex interrupted.

His eyes were likely the size of saucers. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Instead, he simply shook his head.

Alex huffed a laugh. "I do. Fuck H, it took you confessing for me to realize it, but I do. I always have." He stepped back in, cupping the back of Henry's neck. "Something clicked when you said those words and I knew, I knew I had to say them back."

"But-" His brain still wasn't working. This had to be a dream of some sort. "You're straight."

"Apparently not so much." He let out a rueful laugh. "I made a list. When I wrote it all down, well, it was obvious. I called Amber and broke things off with her. Honestly, she wasn't too surprised." He shrugged. "Seems everyone knew but me." Alex locked eyes with Henry. "Sorry it took me so long."

"This isn't real." Henry said, his brows furrowing. "It can't be." Henry didn't get the love story, the happy ending.

Alex's hands moved to his cheeks. "It's not. Henry, I love you. And, assuming I didn't fuck everything up by abandoning you for three days, I'd really like to take you on a date."

Henry opened and closed his mouth. It was surreal. Here was Alex, confessing his feelings, offering Henry everything he'd ever wanted. He'd dreamed of this more times than he could count but had never expected it to actually happen.

"Unless it's too late." Alex dropped his hold and stepped back. "I'd understand if-"

"No!" He cried, grabbing Alex's hand to stop him from moving. "Alex I would have waited a millennia for you."

Alex grinned at him. "Five years was probably enough." He stepped back in, comfortably crowding Henry's space. "So, a date? What do you say?"

"One thing, before I agree."

"Anything baby."

"Kiss me again."

Alex's grin grew as he pulled Henry's face to his. "Thought you'd never ask."

This time they didn't break apart for a long time.

#firstprince #rwrb #angst with a happy ending #tinyarmedtwrites

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suplicyy · 3 months

Note

look at me hq oneshot iS SO GOOD AKFHSKJDBFJW TSUKKI PART GOT ME SQUEALING LIKE AGRBGRGRHR WJ

can u write for osamu and kita? thank you!!

Look At Me!! (≧□≦)

Haikyuu boys x Artist!Reader

[part 1] – [part 2]

— Summary: You're from the art club, and for a project involving the volleyball club, you need to draw someone on the team, but that someone isn't him, and he definitely doesn't like it.

— Characters: Kita, Osamu.

— Warning/Notes: Jealous crush, misunderstanding.

— Fluff

— Gn!Reader

You are part of your school's art club, and since the president of your club has several connections around the school as he was the former president of the student council , they agreed to a collaboration between the two clubs with the aim of making a special project.

Each member of the art club would be tasked with drawing a picture of a volleyball team player, and at the end, the drawings would be displayed throughout the school; One of the main objectives of doing this was that this project could attract more people to want to participate in the clubs involved.

And to avoid conflicts between several people wanting to draw the same person, the president of your club decided that he would choose who each person would draw.

But this unfortunately meant that you were unable to make an art of the one that remained in your thoughts for a while. That's right, your crush was part of the volleyball club, but you never had the courage to reveal your feelings to him, because you thought he wouldn't feel the same way about you. But little do you know that he would be bothered by the fact that you "chose" to draw someone other than him... (he doesn't know that you actually wanted to do the project with him)

Shinsuke Kita

Even though the project was ongoing now, it did not stop him from continuing his peaceful routine, which is considered his "sacred ritual". But something seemed to be taking away his concentration at the moment, and that something was you and Aran doing the project together.

He really didn't understand why when he saw you together, he stared at you more than usual. He really doesn't understand this unpleasant feeling that is growing inside him. That certainly wasn't good.

No matter what he tried to do, Kita couldn't get the image of you laughing with Aran out of his mind; most of the time he didn't understand the jokes his team told him, but what would his friend have told you for you to give him such a bright smile?

He really wanted your smile to be directed at him.

Kita tried to be discreet about it, but his intense stares directed at you already gave everything away. And everyone on the team realized this, of course, but it was only the twins who had the courage to confront him about it.

"Hey Shinsuke, you’re starin' too much…why don't ya go talk to them?” says Atsumu, giving his signature smile. "Why are ya speakin' as if ya are an expert on this?" Osamu says to his brother, laughing in his face. "Gimme a break Samu!"

As the twins begin their daily argument, Kita thinks about Atsumu's words. There's no harm in him trying to talk to you, right? And with that thought, he walks towards you, who is alone now since Aran needed to go to the bathroom.

When you see him, you wave to the boy, giving him a smile that makes his heart flutter slightly. "Hi Kita! I'm sorry I didn't talk to you sooner, I was talking to Aran about the project!" "Ya don't need to worry about that." he says in a polite manner, then directing his gaze to the court, watching his teammates doing the project and training.

You stand side by side in an awkward silence, not knowing what to say to each other, but the silence soon dissipates as you begin to speak. "You know... it's really cool to draw Aran, but I think it would be even cooler to draw you." with those words, Kita looks at you with a surprised expression, but soon composes himself.

"The seriousness you radiate is always fun to see, you really were made to be the captain of your team." you look at him and gives him a smile, which makes the boy blush slightly. He soon gives a small smile too, and looks at the ground, feeling a little shy all of a sudden.

"I say the same. You're certainly a great artist, if it were me, I'd be flattered for being drawn by ya."

You laugh lightly at his words, feeling embarrassed by the compliment Kita returned to you. Everyone noticed the light flirtations you directed at each other, thinking about how you two were made for each other.

Osamu Miya

One thing that people close to Osamu notice is that when he gets stressed about something, it seems like his hunger becomes greater than normal. But now it looked like he hadn't eaten in weeks.

And as if it wasn't enough that you chose his idiot brother over him, Atsumu wasted no time in sending him a face, with the purpose of irritating him even more. Why did you choose that fool over him anyway?

Did you even know that Atsumu often picks boogers out of his nose and wipes his finger under the table when no one is looking? If you knew that, he's sure you wouldn't waste any time choosing the best twin (which is definitely Osamu).

'Oh but that's not even the worst thing he does, if you knew everything...' Osamu thinks looking at the two of you, while he eat a pack of potato chips from a completely unknown brand that was on sale.

"Osamu, ya can't eat this here, Kita will come and teach ya a moral lesson sayin' that 'this isn't healthy at all'." says Suna approaching his friend, while engrossed in his cell phone.

Too busy cursing his brother in his thoughts, Osamu doesn't respond to the boy who now sits next to him, furrowing his eyebrows in disgust to the fake blonde who is purposely talking too close to you.

"I'm goin' to go over there and kick this shameless guy in the face." Osamu grumbles as he eat the chips, looking away from you. "I don't think ya'll need to go there." Suna lightly pokes his shoulder, and then pointing at Atsumu, who is walking towards the two of them, holding a... bento box?

"What are ya doin' here? Aren't ya supposed to be doin' the project?" "[Name] had to go back to their club room to get some paintin' supplies." After Atsumu speaks, a strange atmosphere remains in the air, clearly showing Osamu's irritation with his brother at the moment.

"Hey, don't look at me like that, it's not like they's excited to do the project with me anyway." With those words, Osamu turns to face his twin, with an expression of doubt on his face. "What do ya mean by that?"

"Well...It may or may not be that they did this for you two thinkin' that they would participate in the project with ya, but it seems that the universe had other plans." Atsumu says as he hands the bento box to his brother, who instantly opens it to see what's inside.

Onigiris.

Made with all the love in the world by you, they were organized in rows, and it was possible to see that each one of them was made with exceptional care. In the same second, Osamu blushed to think that you did they thinking about him.

Maybe he will now take back all the insults he directed at his brother.

— A/N: I'M FINALLY ON VACATION🙌🙌🙌🙌

It will last about 3 weeks, so I will have plenty of time to write things here, and that means I can respond to all your requests and take less time to post!! I'm really relieved that I'm not burdened with so much schoolwork, this break will be really good for me.😢

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu imagines #hq #hq x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #kita x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu x reader #osamu fluff #kita fluff #kita shinsuke #kita shinsuke x reader

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sky-kiss · 1 year

Note

Okay sorry for all these prompts/ideas but I just can't get rid of these worms and would love to hear your takes on them! How would you imagine a scenario where Raphael is wounded and decided "I'm going to teleport to my favourite person instead of going back to the Hells" (maybe he was wounded in the Hells and escaped). He manages to teleport to them/their doorstep before passing out. What would ensue? 👀👀👀

p.s. I only though of this because I was thinking of Raphael without his doublet so you see that shirt and then imagined him being all bloodied and beat up 😩 Welp... Adding that to the back burner of things to draw!

A/N: Ya’ll feeling a lil’ bloodthirsty against the boy tonight. What has he done to deserve such violence? You know. Aside from everything. I’ve opted for a touch of silliness.

_________

The House of Hope is compromised.

It’s Raphael’s last cognizant thought for some time. The assassin closes the distance between them with hellish speed, a blur of wings and bladed limbs. He’s vaguely aware of the pain, but it’s the burning he feels first. It’s like acid in his veins. Poison, he thinks, and that airy disconnect startles him; it’s poisoned me.

Raphael rips the beast off him, snapping its neck in one fluid move. Screams echo throughout the House. He hears more of those things scurrying about in the main hall and something massive, something awful, crashing towards the boudoir.

They’ve come for him. His father’s men or a rival Archdevil, it matters not. He moves towards his armoire, intending to slip into the Hell Dusk armor before they are upon him, and nearly collapses. His vision swims; the muscles in his hands and calves are still in the process of cramping. Everything wants to spasm.

The cambion grits his teeth, pride warring with rationality. If they kill him here, it will be a final death. But on the Prime…even if they fell upon him, there is hope. Raphael forces his hands through the familiar gesture and casts himself among the planes. He has no destination in mind; his mind cycles through its expansive catalog of people and places and locates one with sufficient strength. The House fades.

Convenient, because so does his consciousness.

________

There’s a devil in her garden.

Well. Cambion.

Tav purses her lips, rocking back on her heels. She should probably feel panicky but can’t find it in herself. Raphael looks rough. His doublet is shredded. His red skin is tinged nearly purple, and sweat beads on his forehead. The hero of Baldur’s Gate glances back towards her cottage, down at the devil she’d once (tenuously) considered a friendly acquaintance.

If he’d thought to come to her after a decade, then things must have gone sideways back home.

She sighs, kneeling and slipping her arms under his. The devil is hot. Not in an attractive way, not even in a natural temperature way; it’s like his blood is boiling in his veins and cooking him from the inside out. She goes to move him and groans.

“Gods, couldn’t even transform to make this a little more manageable, hmm? Good to see you’ve not changed, dear.”

Getting him inside is an arduous process. Tav has to stop more than once. He’s heavier than he looks, and touching him burns her.

She finally, finally manages to drag him to the couch. Tav presses the back of her hand to his cheek. She’s no expert in Infernal medicine, but he doesn’t feel or look great. Chewing her lip, she weighs her options. Leave him and hope he awakens…

…or take matters into her own hands.

She’s always been more of a take-charge sort. Tav fetches a knife from the kitchen. He isn’t going to be happy with her, but he’ll also be alive, so it’s a tradeoff he’ll have to accept. She finishes cutting the doublet free. Seeing him without it is strange. Tav sits back on her heels. He looks smaller, so much more vulnerable without that mark of rank. The shirt beneath is rather plain by comparison. Frilled, yes, but nothing out of the ordinary. Tav cuts it away; the blood has ruined it. They’ll find something else for him to wear.

The wound stretches across his side. It oozes in some places; the skin along the edges is blackened, already starting to rot. She wonders if his mortal blood worsened or lessened the effect of the poison.

Tav fetches half a dozen potions from the pantry alongside a roll of bandages. She’ll have to work quickly and pray.

_________

Raphael regains consciousness halfway through the procedure. The cambion is aware of a pinching sensation in his side; there’s a small hand on his ribs, trying to keep him from moving away. His host pinches him. They’re saying something.

“Transform.”

Gods above and below, he recognizes that voice. The devil groans, chancing to open his eyes. Tav is staring at him, crouched between his spread leads, needle in hand.

“Not you.”

She snickers. “Me, darling. Don’t complain. You manifested in my garden.”

“Anything ruined?”

“An entire bed of night lilies.”

He huffs. “I’m glad to hear it. I should visit far more destruction upon this wretched…” the room does a dizzying turn and his nausea intensifies.

“You can visit your destruction later. Right now, I need you to transform. Your skin is a bit…” she shrugs. “More difficult to manage as a devil. You need sutures.” He snaps his fingers. The shift is not as immediate as he’d like, and he has to screw his eyes shut against the latent exhaustion. Tav’s hand shifts, moving up to cup the back of his neck. “Easy, love. You’re alright. Could you stomach a healing drought?”

He nods. Tav presses the potion into his hand and returns to her work, leaning over him. There’s a part of him, separate from the pain and sickness, which catalogs the healthier warmth of her skin and the press of her against his thigh. Her scent is precisely as he remembered. Her hair…

Raphael frowns, reaching out to tweak one shorn strand. “You cut your hair.”

She smiles, stitching him back together with practiced ease. “Do you like it?”

“Not in the least.”

Tav laughs. It’s a far cry from the last time they were together. When the wretched thing had the gall to deny him; when she’d cut ties entirely and ended their mutually beneficial relationship. She’s so close. He could snuff out her miserable life and finally make good on…

“There.” She pats his stomach, pressing back on her heels. She doesn’t move away, he notes; her elbows remain on either of his thighs. She is such a little thing, his pretty mouse, even with her horrible new hair and a smattering of fresh wrinkles. She tips her head to the side. “You’ll have to rest a while. But you’ll live.”

“The House is compromised.”

Tav finally stands. She smooths his hair back, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Stay here then. We’ll make it work.”

#bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #asks #my fic #have some sweetness to make up for my earlier crimes #but honestly i think it would depend on the tav #if he fled to joi she'd immediately jump to committing warcrimes #because how dare anyone hurt her people #other tavs might be like who the heck is this guy why am i his emergency contact

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scrollonso · 20 days

Text

You Don't Matter - Alex/Pecco

“I wanted to come in here and say sorry, Francesco,” Alex says, huffing out a breath that’s not quite a laugh.

Pecco turns away, and Alex watches the stiff shake of his head, the sharp clench of his jaw.

I don’t need to play mind games with you.

He was lying — or, at least, not being completely truthful — and Pecco knows it, too. To be fair, he did enter the Italians motorhome with the intention of rattling Pecco, just a little. To trap him with no other option but to finally face Alex after so obviously avoiding him since the crash. Wanting to tease him, ever so slightly, to try and bring his defenses down, even if just an inch. Call it leveling the playing field, or whatever.

Alex should’ve known that Pecco wouldn’t let him in that easily. If anything, the closeness between them only served to freeze Pecco further, rather than melt him down the way Alex had hoped.

He can see the wheels turning in Pecco's head, can see the walls building higher and higher, with how hard he’s trying to not let Alex regain the upper hand. It’s his serve, and he’s not going to let Alex break it without a fight. Not anymore. He knows that all Alex needs is one goddamn inch to wiggle himself back into the advantage.

Because, even after all these years have passed, Pecco still knows Alex. Whether he likes it or not.

Really, all they’ve ever done — since they were sixteen years old — is play games with each other. It’s just that somewhere, along the way, it stopped being fun.

“That makes no sense.”

“I wanted to say that I'm sorry I ruined our races. And I'm glad you're not hurt.”

And fuck, does he mean it.

Pecco's lips twitch into his cheeks, but not with a smile — no, he’s biting back a snarl. Fighting the urge to show his sharp teeth, a last defense to warn Alex that he’s about to have his heart ripped right out of his chest if he isn’t careful.

And Alex wants to just — push him to it. To bite. Pecco has always been all talk, and when it came down to the wire he’d just submit. Rolling over, retreating into safety. Never fighting back. Now, he’s so close, Alex can feel the air practically crackle with Pecco's barely-contained rage.

Part of him is almost proud. It’s nice to see you lit up about something.

Even if that something is hating me, he thinks.

And besides — he’s already spent his entire life hurting at Pecco's hands. Because of him. Because of the loss of him. May as well finish him off.

Alex was wrong, all those years ago. Pecco isn’t a snake, slithering around in the grass, hiding below Alex's feet and twisting around him before reaching out to bite. No — he’s more of a tiger. Still hiding in the grass, but stalking, strategizing — categorizing every weak point in his prey before striking. Before digging his razor sharp claws right into Alex's beating heart, his soft, unguarded stomach. Tearing him apart, all brutal strength and ice cold efficiency.

It’s what’s been missing from your racing.

He stares at the bob of Pecco's adam’s apple, glistening with sweat, as he swallows his anger down. And that, right there, is what Alex latches on to.

“Yeah," Pecco grits out, unable to hide the crack of his voice. He hums, around a mean, derisive leer.

Even after all the time they’ve spent apart, Alex is so pleased to find that he’s still an expert on reading Pecco. His tells haven’t changed. So he knows that he struck a nerve, has nicked Pecco's icy exterior. Just enough for Alex to see that he’s not the only one suffering here.

Maybe, Pecco is still just as affected by Alex as Alex is by Pecco. Despite the heat, he shivers at the thought.

“Well,” Pecco continues, voice steadier. He stands then, right in front of Alex, left hand gripping onto the band of Alex's sweatpants slung low on his hips. Alex's eyes trace down the strong lines of Pecco's body, lingering on the stretch of his pelvis for a beat too long. “I don’t miss playing with you. I’m too mature for it.”

Pecco starts towards the door, not hesitating to leave his own motorhome if it means getting away from the Spaniard, but Alex lurches to his feet before he can make his escape. One hand stays by his side. The other grasps Pecco's wrist tightly — to ensure that his skin doesn’t slip out of his hold — and yanks, pulling him back into the room while the heavy door slams shut again.

“No, you don’t get to leave, just like that. You don’t get to run away,” Alex snaps.

Pecco stares at him for one long second, nostrils flaring, jaw grinding in a furious back and forth, before he’s on him. Twisting out of Alex's hold, he shoves him up against the wall, using his right forearm to push hard along Alex's collarbones — wrist to elbow pressing just under the divot of his throat.

“That’s fucking rich, coming from you,” he sneers, letting out a mean laugh right in Alex's face.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Alex tries — albeit halfheartedly — to push back against Pecco's hold, but all it does is earn him another harsh shove.

Pecco is probably stronger than him, he always has been, he realizes with a start. Now that his body is sculpted by the most expensive trainers and nutritionists and physical therapists money can buy. He’s not even sure he could actually escape Pecco's hold if he tried.

It’s the closest they’ve physically been since they broke up nine years ago. He isn’t going to try.

His breaths come in and out in short bursts. The slight pressure on his neck limits his airflow, in addition to the heavy heat in the air that already makes it hard to breathe. All of it leaves him a bit dizzy — that, and the fact that all the blood in his body is rapidly rushing downwards. Suddenly he’s glad that his sweatpants are too big for his body, so they can hide the growing hardness of his dick.

All traces of humor are gone from Pecco's face, sardonic or not, leaving only sharp lines and dangerous anger.

“You fucking left first, Alex. You’re the one who ran away and never came back.”

“You’re the one who told me to go!” He yells, as well as he can, anyway, given the growing pressure below his throat. “You don’t get to put this all on me, Francesco. Just because you got off scot-free in the end doesn’t mean you get to blame me for everything. You’re at fault just as much as me. Probably more, actually, because you just couldn’t help yourself from blaming me for the fact you're a shit rider.”

Pecco shoves him back again, so hard that the back of his head slams against the wall. Presses up so close that his nose smashes into Alex's, so forcefully that he fears the cartilage is going to shatter.

“Oh yeah? That's why you purposely crashed into me? To get back at me?”

Pecco jerks away, and Alex has half a mind to think that he's going to hit him. He recoils as Pecco moves, only for him to turn around and take a rigid step away from Alex, leaving him still pressed against the wall.

The words sink in, then, and Alex lets out a humorless laugh. He wonders if Pecco realizes that he just showed his hand. Probably not — he was always reckless in his anger. When he finally exploded after bottling everything in for too long, letting the pressure build and build and build. Alex never had to wonder why Pecco was mad when they were kids, he knew that Pecco would let it slip eventually — all he had to do was wait him out or needle it out of him.

Seems he really hasn’t changed much at all.

“You know, Francesco,” he starts, aiming to sound detached, even though he’s barely hanging on to a single thread of control. “It might not seem like it, given your entire goddamn life, but if you can believe it, not everything is about you.”

Casually, he pushes himself off the wall. “And besides, you’re not mad that I fucked your race”

He gets one hand on his shoulder, with the other mindlessly toying with the Italians jeans. In one intense move he twists Pecco around to face him, hand swiftly cupping the younger mans crotch.

He can’t help the smirk that pulls at his lips at the reveal of Pecco's half-hard cock, the way it twitches when he catches sight of Alex's own proud erection, now undeniably visible even through the oversized sweats.

“No, you’re just mad that I didn’t fuck you too .” Pecco nearly flinches at his words, at the vitriolic way Alex spits them at him, and that’s how he knows he’s right. “It drove you crazy, remembering I'm not only good at fucking you over but also fucking you stupid. I know it did.”

A rough hand clasps around his throat — fingers and thumb spanning the sides, pressing against his bilateral pulse points. Not squeezing, just adding a firm, constant pressure as Pecco pulls him in close again. He can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed at the choked moan that escapes his lips, or the way his eyes flutter shut at the feeling.

“You don’t fucking know anything.”

Alex's smirk sharpens, dangerous. Maybe he can show his sharp teeth, too.

“Don’t I?”

Next thing he knows, he’s nearly choking on Pecco's tongue. He doesn’t know who moved first — or maybe they simultaneously closed the gap between them, both possessed by the same magnetic force — but he moans again, a deep, guttural sound all the way from the depths of his soul.

The kiss is rough, all teeth and tongue, like they’re mutually trying to devour each other. Alex presses his tongue deep into Pecco's mouth, trying to chase the taste of him. It’s so familiar . Pecco still tastes the same as he did all those years ago. The realization nearly brings him to fucking tears.

Another moan gets caught in his throat, stuck underneath the grip that Pecco still has on his neck.

He wants Pecco to press harder. Wants it to bruise, so he can wear Pecco's fingerprints on his skin like a brand.

Alex's own hands can’t seem to settle. He rakes his fingers up Pecco's strong back, down his pecs that may as well be fucking tits , and across his taut abs, barely grazing the coarse hair that leads down to his groin, and back up again. Crazed with desire, hunger , to consume every inch of Pecco that he can get his hands on. His fingers finally settle in Pecco's hair, and he yearns for his old curls — just so he could really get a good handful and yank . Pecco still groans when he manages to pull at the short strands anyway, when he digs his nails into his scalp.

Pecco releases his hold on Alex's throat — much to his dismay — and starts tracing a long line down Alex's chest. He scrapes his nails hard across his skin, moving so slowly, making Alex feel every raw pink line that he leaves in his wake.

Alex whines when Pecco cruelly pinches at a nipple, hand snaked up his Gresini team shirt, while simultaneously biting hard at his bottom lip. He tries to tip his head back, needing to breathe, suddenly so overwhelmed — but Pecco keeps his teeth pressed into his lip, making it stretch painfully between them. Keeping Alex right where Pecco wants him. Eventually, he releases his bite, soothes the sting with his tongue.

Pecco's hand continues on its downward path, making his abs quiver in response.

His other hand twists into Alex's hair and pulls, thrusting his head back. Alex finally sucks in a deep breath, nearly heaving with the effort, but all the air is knocked right back out of him when Pecco wraps a calloused hand tightly around the base of his aching cock, while biting hard at the now-exposed sensitive line of his throat.

Pecco starts pumping his fist at a brutal pace, squeezing so tight that it’s almost painful while his mouth is busy biting and sucking and licking at his neck, his jaw, his collarbones. There’s no way he isn’t leaving marks. Alex whimpers at the thought. Imagines wearing Pecco's claim on his skin in front of anyone and everyone.

And god, they’ll all know . One look is all it will take to know, without a doubt, that Alex has been claimed by Pecco — mind, body, soul, everything .

Fuck, it’s almost too much.

Almost.

“I hate you,” Pecco pants into Alex's neck. He gives a particularly hard bite, punctuating his harsh words. Alex wouldn’t be surprised if he breaks the skin, bleeds him dry right here in his motorhome. “I hate you for going to Moto2. And I hate that you got with that whore after you left me. You were mine first, Alex.”

“Yeah ,” he moans. He was. He is.

He's quick to undo the Italians jeans, wrapping his own frantic hand around Pecco's cock, he nearly sees stars at the heavy weight of it against his palm. Matching Pecco's pace, he lets himself squeeze a little bit too hard to be mean back.

“I hate that you don’t give a fuck about anything,” Pecco continues. “That you’re wasting your fucking talent. And for what ? You were supposed to be great, but look at you now. All this time, and what do you have to show for it? Fucking nothing . I already won, Alex, and I really hate that you never cared enough to even play the fucking game .”

Pecco gives another sharp bite to his throat, over the long muscle that spans its entire length, and digs his thumbnail mercilessly into Alex's slit, drags it across the aching head of his cock. Alex keens — high and needy. Feels his cock drool with precum, even as his hips instinctively try to squirm away.

“Fuck you, Pecco,” he gasps, breathless. It comes out sounding so pathetic. So weak.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you.” Not a question, just a fact. The sky is blue, grass is green, Alex Marquez wants to fuck, be fucked by — in any and every way — Francesco Bagnaia.

Needs it more than he needs air to breathe.

He reaches up to the hand Pecco still has clenched in his hair and pulls his fingers back, forcing him to release his grip. With the newfound ability to move his head again, he brings his lips back to Pecco's, kisses him deep and absolutely filthy . Desperate to convey how right Pecco is, how much he wants him. Has wanted him, for so long.

They continue to feverishly jerk each other off, grips teetering on the knife’s edge of too painful. The frenzied sound of skin-on-skin mingles with the wet smacking of their lips in the otherwise silent sauna.

It’s fucking obscene.

Pressure starts to build in Alex's gut, too fast too fast too fast . He’s not ready for this to be over, doesn’t want to come like this. He’s a glutton, he needs more . Needs to take everything Pecco will give him, if only for the fear that this is his only fucking chance.

I don’t matter?

Gathering a burst of strength, he shoves Pecco away, so hard that he stumbles a few steps backwards.

“What the fuck—”

Alex follows, pushing Pecco again, until the back of his knees hit the sofa behind him, and he just keeps going until Pecco has no option but to sit down. Head tilting back to keep Alex's eye as he towers over him.

He leans down, nearly closing the gap between them again, but leaves barely a millimeter between their lips. They pant into each other’s open mouths, sharing air in warm bursts. A bead of sweat drips off Alex's nose and lands on Pecco's cheek.

“You want me to play, Francesco?” He croons, right between his open lips. “Are you sure? Because you know I only play to win.”

“Yeah? That why you’re barely tenth?”

“Well,” he smiles, pushing a laugh into Pecco's mouth. “I guess I only go for the points that matter.”

I don’t matter?

Not even to the most obsessive MotoGP fan in the entire world.

I don’t matter?

It’s exciting to see you this way.

He stands back, takes a moment to appreciate the picture before him. And fuck, what a picture Pecco makes. Eyes glassy, cheeks and neck and chest flushed the prettiest pink beneath his glistening skin, his cock hard and nearly weeping between his thighs. And Pecco — he leans back, unabashedly kicks his jeans down and spreads his legs wide, he lets Alex look .

Fuck, how could Pecco ever think that he belonged to anyone but Alex?

He’s possessed, the need to take take take completely overcomes him. He needs to mark, to claim, to make sure that Pecco knows that he belongs to Alex just as much as he belongs to Pecco.

In a sudden move, one that Pecco clearly wasn’t anticipating — see, I’ve always had the upper hand — he grabs one of Pecco's thighs, twists his body so that he’s practically laying sideways on the sofa. He pulls the leg he’s still gripping and thrusts it up, pushing until he meets the resistance of Pecco's hamstrings, nearly folding his right side in half.

Pecco gasps when Alex places a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin of his thigh, just above the back crease of his knee. He tries to wrench his leg away, but Alex merely pushes Pecco further into the stretch. He smiles against Pecco's skin, feels the rippling tremor of his muscles below his lips. And then, he sinks his teeth in deep and sucks . Pecco groans, long and broken, as Alex relentlessly works to mar Pecco's sweet skin.

To anyone else, it’ll just look like a bruise. It’s in an inconspicuous place. Unassuming, normal for an athlete to have. No one will think twice about it.

But Pecco will know. Alex will know. Hell, maybe even Domizia will know. And tomorrow, when Alex gets a glimpse of his mark on Pecco's thigh, he’ll know he’s playing to win.

Because he does fucking matter.

“No matter what you think, Pecco,” he pants into Pecco's skin, too lazy to try to call the other by his full name, too lazy to try and pretend he doesn't care for him as he watches his handiwork turn an angry purple with a satisfied jolt in his stomach. Mine mine mine. “No matter how much you think you’re Domizia's, you know deep down that you belong to me. You’ve always belonged to me.”

He gives one last parting nip, which makes Pecco hiss out a short — hah — from the rawness of the already-forming bruise, and urges him to sit properly on the bench. Pecco splays his thighs out wide again, leaving just enough space for Alex to drop to his knees between them. Lightly, he runs his hands up the tops of Pecco's legs, feeling the rough scrape of his hair as he inches closer to his groin. He stops — just shy of where Pecco clearly wants him.— and drags his hands back down. Does it again, nails scraping this time.

“Alex,” Pecco whines.

He rests his cheek on Pecco's thigh, turns his head so he’s gazing up at him through his lashes.

“Sì, amore, what do you want? Tell me.”

The pet name slipped out unintentionally, likely a result of his brain short-circuiting from the heat and how fucking horny he is, but he can’t find it in himself to regret it. Not with the way Pecco's cock twitches in front of his face — nearly an invitation.

Pecco lets out an impatient huff when Alex starts languidly mouthing at his leg.

“God, you’re such a fucking dick.”

He hums, smiles against Pecco's skin. He tastes like salt, like sweat.

“That didn’t sound like an answer to my question.”

Pecco growls then, grabs Alex's face and holds it between his hands. It’s almost tender, the way his thumbs caress over his temples, across his cheeks. That is, until he hooks both thumbs into Alex's mouth, pressing hard and forcing his jaw wide open. Pecco scoots forward on the sofa, using his height advantage while Alex is still kneeling on the floor, and leans down until their noses press together, switching their earlier positions.

“I want you to show me. Show me how badly you want to be mine, Marquez.”

He spits then, right into Alex's pried-open mouth, right on his tongue. Fuck, he’s going to pass out. He didn’t think Pecco had it in him to be such a nasty freak .

He fucking loves it.

It’s exciting to see you this way.

Pecco releases his face with a gentle shove and leans back on the bench. Alex wastes no time, gathers his own spit, pooling it around Pecco's in his mouth, and drops it perfectly over the pink head of Pecco's cock. Watches as it drips down the shaft, utterly transfixed. He desperately wants to burn this image into his retinas, wants to see it every time he closes his eyes.

This is really happening . For so long, this only existed in the deepest recesses of his mind, only to be accessed in his weakest moments. When the loneliness — the longing — got so intense that he let himself slip up and imagine having Pecco this way. Twisting the knife further and further, deeper into his own stomach.

And if this is his only chance, he’s desperate to ensure that Pecco knows no one will ever make him feel better than Alex does.

Maybe then, if he makes it good enough, Pecco won’t try to leave him behind anymore.

You were mine first.

With a deep, steadying breath, he lowers his mouth around the base of Pecco's cock. Tantalizingly slow, he presses his tongue along the thick vein and licks a fat stripe up the entire length, tonguing hard at the frenulum. Pecco lets out an aborted moan, unable to stifle the sound completely.

Alex starts swirling his tongue around the head, dips it into the slit to finally get a taste of the precome collecting there. Laps at the salty sweet taste of him, while tilting his head up to catch his gaze. He’s pleased to see that Pecco's eyes are wide open, locked on Alex with a hungry glint shining in their depths.

With a final smirk — bottom lip catching against Pecco's cock — Alex gets to fucking work.

Still maintaining the delicious eye contact, in one swift move he takes Pecco's entire length in his mouth, pushing past his gag reflex. He feels Pecco curl up around him at the shock of it, scrabbling for some sort of purchase, eventually finding it with both hands gripping Alex's hair painfully.

He sets up a ruthless rhythm, bobbing his head up and down Pecco's cock while occasionally opening his throat and swallowing around him, desperate to feel him as deep as he can. He must look like a mess — he can feel tears clumping his lashes and spit spilling down his chin, so fucking sloppy and he doesn’t fucking care .

Pecco's hands keep a tight hold of Alex's hair, and Alex lets him take control of his movements. Lets Pecco take what he wants. He chokes out a punched-out groan when Pecco forces his head down to the base, as he thrusts his hips even further, nearly suffocating him on Pecco's cock.

“Yeah ,” Pecco grunts out. “This— this is what you’re made for. This right here,” he gives another harsh jolt of his hips, holds Alex in place as he gags, as he makes him take it .

“God, you’re so fucking desperate for it.” Alex hums in agreement, shivering in pleasure as Pecco moans from the vibrations. “Just wanna prove that you’re good at something , huh?”

Tears are streaming down his face, and Alex doesn’t think it’s only from the pressure of Pecco's cock fucking into his throat. He feels like he’s on the verge of a precipice — like he’s one step away from falling off a cliff so high he knows he won’t survive. Still, he presses forward. Because he is fucking desperate for it.

“That’s right, Alex,” Pecco continues, voice strained. “You’re only good when you’re playing for me . Everyone fucking knows it.”

Without warning, Pecco forces Alex's head up and off his cock. He sucks in a deep breath, letting out a pitiful whine at the loss. Vision blurring, he tries to focus on Pecco, staring as he starts to frantically pull at his length, wet and shiny with Alex's spit.

His body must realize what’s about to happen before his mind catches up, because he barely manages to shut his eyes before feeling hot ribbons of Pecco's come land all over his face, in his hair, down his neck and chest. Pecco keeps letting out these sweet, choked little noises — just the same as he did in his motorhome back in Moto3, when he’d jerk himself off after the thought Alex was asleep.

“God, just look at you.”

Alex cautiously opens his eyes — hyper-aware of the come matting his eyelashes and dripping off his eyelids — just in time to watch Pecco hold his softening cock in his fingers and drag the head against Alex's face. Rubbing his release into his skin, against his swollen lips. Possessive. Claiming.

Alex sticks out his tongue, gives a little kitten-lick to the head, where it rests against his lips, causing Pecco to hiss and retreat from oversensitivity.

He quickly replaces his cock with his thumb, collecting come from the corner of Alex's mouth and feeding it to him. He laves his tongue over the digit, savoring the taste of Pecco in his mouth. He continues to suck and nip at Pecco's thumb as he feverishly gets his hand on his own neglected cock, chasing his impending release. He’s nearly there already, just needs a few long tugs before he’s coming hard, spilling over his fist and the floor with a sob.

The heat must be getting to him, because he thinks he blacks out — the pleasure from his orgasm nearly blinding him. He loses awareness for a moment, lost in a floaty sensation, finding comfort in the smell, the feel of Pecco around him.

As he feels himself drift back, Pecco is lifting his body off the floor, hefting him into a seated position on the sofa. His eyes blink open, and he watches as Pecco reaches for the small towel that he quickly grabbed from the bathroom, and uses it to gently — so gently — wipe the remaining come off of Alex's face.

The intimacy of it is what finally cracks him open, right down the middle. He can’t keep up, can’t conflate the tenderness of Pecco's actions with the mean, unforgiving version of him that he’s been this whole time.

Embarrassingly, his eyes start to well up, and despite blinking to try to keep them at bay, one single tear manages to escape. His bottom lip starts to wobble, so he sucks them both into his mouth to hide it.

None of it escapes Pecco's notice, though. Once he finishes wiping the remaining come off his chest and his fist, he brings the towel back up to his cheek to collect the tear, face completely void of emotion.

He turns away, bends down to collect their forgotten clothes, and helps the Spaniard get dressed. As if nothing ever happened.

Panic rips through him, completely filling his gut with the heavy dread of fear. Pecco is going to ask him to leave, is going to go back to his wife and his dog and his fucking penthouse life, and he’s going to leave Alex here — alone, destroyed — again, forever .

He thought he’d be able to handle it. That even having Pecco once more would be enough, that he’d be able to live on the memory for the rest of his life. But fuck, he was wrong.

He can’t live without this, he doesn’t think he’ll survive without Pecco in his life. Not now, not again. Not when he finally got a taste of what he’s spent years yearning for. He can’t go back, will do anything to not go back.

I don’t matter?

His hand reaches back out, lands on Pecco's forearm, where it rests against the knot of the towel.

“Pecco—” he tries, desperately, but his voice is shot to hell, completely wrecked. “Please ,” he whispers, hoping he can read his mind. He could have, once upon a time. Maybe he still can.

Pecco finally drops the emotionless mask, lets a hint of resignation show on his face. He steps back into Alex's space, eyes flitting back and forth rapidly between Alex's own. He leans down, resting his hands on the sofa behind Alex, effectively caging him in. Slowly, resolutely, he presses his lips back to Alex's. It’s chaste, almost sweet. Alex whimpers into it, prompting Pecco to pull back after barely a second has passed.

“Shh, just— tomorrow, okay? We’ll talk tomorrow. I promise.”

Alex lets out a deep, shaky breath as Pecco stands him up, heading back for the door.

He opens the door for Alex who doesn’t turn back as the door swings shut behind him.

Head swimming, gut swirling, Pecco watches Alex go, eyes caught on the purple marks littering his neck.

Pressing fingers against his thigh, he feels the ache of tender marks littering his own skin, and actually lets himself believe his own promise of tomorrow. Tomorrow they would fix this. Tomorrow they would find a way.

#bone apple teeth #i guess #kats motogp blurbs!#alex marquez #pecco bagnaia #francesco bagnaia #pb1 #fb1 #pb63 #fb63 #am72 #rpf #sports rpf #smut #vr46 riders academy #vr46 academy #idk what to tag this

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meaningofaeons · 1 year

Text

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ drunken confession

⊹ character(s) - kaveh ⊹ word count - 1.1k ⊹ notes - gn!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort (for kaveh lol), kaveh gets drunk and basically whines to reader, reader is a lil blunt/stoic at times and is implied to be some kind of artist/have some understanding of artistry and such (and is also implied to be fairly affluent), fic is implied to take place sometime after the hangout (like after the traveler visits him in the tavern but they don't go anywhere ofc)

this idea sprouted up while I was playing kaveh's hangout quest so I had to rush something out for the loml.... kaveh ilysm (^≗ω≗^) SORRY THE ENDING IS KINDA CLICHE TOO I am cringe but free

"These clients think they can just... boss me around! All because they have plenty of Mora to throw about! I'm the architectural expert here, they don't know the half of it!"

The man across from you shouted freely, waving around his latest glass of wine as he vented his woes. Normally, this would warrant a hushing and an apology to the nearby patrons... but if you were honest, this was his regular drinking spot, and all the usual tavern-goers already knew of Kaveh's habits.

You, meanwhile, nursed your own glass of the same, glancing over at your companion.

"I know, Kaveh. You've told me that about the last..." You counted on your fingers. "Three clients you've had."

"Just goes to show nobody understands art like we do in this city!" Kaveh slurred, downing the rest of his drink as he slumped onto the table, burying his head in his arms. You eyed him concernedly.

Isn't that his sixth one?

"I think you've had a bit too much to drink," you pointed out, sighing as he waved over the tavern owner, deaf to your words. "Again."

"Nonsense." Oh, so he did hear you. "You know that the only thing that can make me feel better after a belligerent client is drinking until I have to be carried home..."

"Yet you have the gall to lecture the Traveler on the health issues caused by drinking."

"I just warned them a bit!"

"Hm."

Kaveh peeked up at you through his fingers, red eyes boring into your own. The beginnings of a pout formed on his lips, and you had to look away before he tried his puppy-dog eyes on you.

"You're so cold, Y/N... not even a bit of consolation?" he whimpered, his befuddled mind trying to appeal to your pathos in a way his composed self would never dare try. He'd be apologizing over and over for his childish behavior come tomorrow, you surmised. "Can't you comfort me?"

"I would only sound redundant. You come to me about the same problem every time we drink, so it's only natural that my advice would become repetitive."

"You sound like Alhaitham." The grumble in his voice was far too obvious.

"At least I have an artist's mindset and don't stew in books all day long."

"Hardly matters when you talk just as calculatingly as an Akademiya scholar..."

You heave a sigh. Banter wasn't going to make Kaveh feel better—if it did, he'd get along with Alhaitham far better. You opted to wave Lambad over, requesting a glass of water and the bill. You were also quick to shut down Kaveh's attempts to request a seventh glass of alcohol, promising a hefty tip if the tavern owner didn't bend to his whim.

The architect once again shot you a pout, but you merely moved to his side, rubbing circles onto his back as soothingly as you could manage. His crimson eyes began to droop at your actions.

Lambad offered you the water, and you offered him a hefty pouch of Mora, which he gladly took as he bid you farewell. You pushed the cup to Kaveh's lips, and he shot you a look.

"I can drink it myself... I'm not a child."

"You were acting like you had to be coddled like one only moments earlier. Shall I leave you to stumble home by yourself?"

"No! No... You're so mean," he sighed, downing the glass. It seemed to help him regain his bearings, even if only slightly. "Remind me to send you the Mora for my half of the bill later..."

"More like your three quarters," you joked, nudging him as you helped him to a stand. "Don't worry about it. I'll cover tonight's bill."

"But—"

"For a man in debt, you sure do seem keen on losing money." When he glared at you, you chuckled. "Sorry. Low blow."

"Hmph."

"Come, now. How about we go take a seat on the Divine Tree, overlook the docks for a bit? I don't suppose you want to get back to a scolding from Alhaitham anytime soon."

"Yeah... sounds good."

That's how you ended up leading Kaveh to a small root (well, small in comparison to the rest of the Divine Tree), sitting beside him and placing an arm around his shoulder to keep him upright.

He pillowed his head on your shoulder without much reservation, another byproduct of his liquid confidence.

"Have you ever thought about taking a break? I don't think I've seen you look this tired in a long while, Kaveh."

"I would, but you know... Bills to pay, groceries to buy... Not a day goes by that I can live without Mora," he sighed.

"What if I treated you to a vacation in Fontaine? I have some work to complete there. You could relax for a week or two, take your mind off of everything."

"I appreciate the offer... but I'd feel like I'm shirking my responsibilities. Besides, I don't want to bump into my mom, and make her think I'm there to barge in on her new life."

You raised a brow, a bit surprised at his thinking. You had met Faranak in the distant past, and she was as much of a doting mother as Kaveh was a momma's boy.

At the same time, though, you knew the way Kaveh felt. It was easy to fall into the habit of assuming yourself a burden to everyone, no matter how far from the truth it was.

"She would never think that," you said at last.

"I know..."

The blonde man shifted uncomfortably on your shoulder, so you moved to pull him onto your lap instead, allowing him to rest snugly. He looked about ready to protest—not even alcohol could muddle his mind that much, so as to not be embarrassed by your forthcoming action—when he was immediately shut up by your fingers carding through his locks.

It felt nice, very nice, in fact. Kaveh could feel himself nearly drifting off, the contact serving as just the comfort he needed for his down mood.

"Well, if you're willing to wait a bit longer for your vacation, let's go to Mondstadt. It sounds better for an alcoholic like yourself anyways."

"Really? I'm not that bad."

At your unimpressed glare, he stared out at the docks, blushing.

"...I'll try to drink a little less. But if you're willing to have me, I guess Mondstadt does sound nice."

You hummed, pleased at his response, staring at the moon hanging low on the horizon. With a more upbeat smile than before, you nudged him gently, beginning to weave small braids into his hair.

"Look at that moon. A lovely night. Doesn't this kind of beauty just get your creative juices flowing?"

Unbeknownst to you, crimson eyes flicked up to your smiling face, a flush that wasn't quite from any alcohol making its way to Kaveh's pale cheeks.

"...Yeah. Very lovely, indeed."

#genshin #genshin impact #kaveh #kaveh genshin #kaveh x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kaveh my beloved

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blessedarethebinarybreakers · 3 months

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Hey, this is going to be long and wordy but I’m kinda desperate. Lately I’ve been having doubts about whether Jesus actually said what’s recorded in the gospels and whether those accounts are true, and the uncertainty there scares me, especially since I know the gospel writers almost certainly had their own agendas and that’s why accounts of the same event can sound different, why the birth narrative was skipped over or not, etc. On top of that I’ve seen posts from Jewish users outlining why Judaism typically doesn’t accept Jesus as Messiah/why you can’t be Jewish if you believe that, and their arguments seem pretty sound. So it all boils down to this big scary question of “What if this whole Jesus-as-Messiah thing was just the result of projection onto some random guy who seemed to be the real deal because the writers were so desperate to be rescued from the Roman occupation?” It sucks cuz I’ve been enjoying my renewed interest in church (for the most part) and while I’ve tried my best to learn not to take the Bible literally all the time (yay for growing up in an inerrantist doctrinal tradition 🙄), I still want to take it seriously and I still want to believe in Jesus as savior/Lord/etc. I don’t want to just be like, “Yeah I don’t buy the whole Messiah thing but I can still follow his example!” I want there to be meat behind why I follow, if that makes sense. So inasmuch as this could be my OCD being bored and trying to take hold of whatever it thinks would bug me the most (wouldn’t be the first time!), I would really appreciate any advice you have. I know there may not be any certainty or reassurance to be found here, but I still want to hear from someone who’s been there before so I can chart a path forward, and I think this is an important question to wrestle with. Plus I remember from one of your posts you said you have seminary notes on this exact topic so I’m curious lol.

"Gospel Truth": how do we know what Jesus really said and did?

Hey again! Sorry for the long delay on this one but I wanted to do some research before responding! You're right that these are important questions, and you're absolutely not the only one to feel doubt and anxiety over them. You're also right that I can't offer you certainty, but I do hope you'll find encouragement here, and places to go as you continue your journey.

This got super long (as always lol), so let's start with aTL;DR:

In this post, you'll find that there's a lot that we can surmise is very probable about Jesus' life story, but that ultimately we can't know much for certain — and that's okay. In Evolving in Monkey Town: How a Girl Who Knew All the Answers Learned to Ask the Questions), Rachel Held Evans gets to the heart of the matter:

"I don’t know which Bible stories ought to be treated as historically accurate, scientifically provable accounts of facts and which stories are meant to be metaphorical. I don’t know if it really matters so long as those stories transform my life."

This is a time where scholarship & faith go hand-in-hand: using the minds God gifted us, we study and learn what we can; and we cultivate faith in the things we can't — a faith that doesn't deny doubt, but makes room for it, and calls us into community so that we can wrestle out meaning together.

A couple other notes before we kick off:

Please know that you don't Have To Study All The Things if you decide it's healthier for you not to go chasing those rabbit holes. You don't need to be an expert in Biblical studies to be a "good Christian" or to take scripture seriously or to get to know God deeply.

I trust you know yourself and how your OCD works better than I could. So I'm going to share the information I have, and leave it to you to determine for yourself how much information you need in order to feel reassured, without giving your mind new problems to ruminate over.

So here's a link to a Google doc that has A Lot of information — like, too much lol. But save it for after you read this post; I'm putting the most relevant & important info here! If you finish this post and feel satisfied, you never even have to look in the doc.

However deep you go, if you find yourself getting overwhelmed, know that whatever you are feeling is valid and probably pretty common, and take a break! Do a calming meditation or an activity you enjoy to help regulate your mind and body. If possible, have someone you can unpack this stuff with — or have a notebook ready to journal in. <3

Okay, all that outta the way, let's dig in!

Who wrote the Gospels?

Tradition goes that the authors of the four canonical Gospels are three of Jesus' closest disciples — Matthew, Mark, and John — plus a disciple of Paul — Luke. But academics have determine that this tradition is very improbable; it's much more likely that none of the four authors knew Jesus personally, and that the earliest of them (Mark) wasn't recorded till the 60s — decades after Jesus lived and died!

When people learn this, it often leads to something of a crisis of faith. If these writers didn't even know Jesus firsthand, where the heck did they get their information?? And come to think of it, why do their accounts differ? Is some of it made up? Is all of it made up??

The anxiety and fear that wells up is normal, and it's healthy to acknowledge that you're feeling it. But once that first shock abates, it's possible to discover a sort of freedom in the knowledge that the Gospel writers (and all the authors of the biblical texts) were human, with human biases and specific goals fitting their unique context; and that they didn't have all the answers!

This realization can free us to approach scripture without certain expectations (that it's all inerrant and prescriptive, etc.), and allows us to bring our doubts to the table with us. If something in the text seems questionable — particularly if it seems to promote bigotry and injustice rather than God's love — we can consider whether something in its author's cultural context might be responsible for that part of scripture.

So taking some time to learn the unique contexts of each writer can be quite enriching to how we engage the Gospels. For a chart that sums up the Gospel writers' unique contexts, audiences, and priorities, see this post.

For even more, you'll want a book that digs into that stuff — I recommend Raymond Brown's An Introduction to the New Testament (the abridged version!!). As you learn about the Gospel writers, I hope several things become evident:

First, that they weren't just making things up whole cloth, or relying on a game of "he said she said" telephone for their information! Each one drew from different primary or secondary sources, eyewitness testimonies or written texts (many of which no longer exist, but scholars have pieced together evidence of, like the famous "Q source" that both Matthew and Luke drew from).

Yes, each author does have an agenda in writing about Jesus, and in how they tell his story. But that's not a nefarious thing; it's true of any text, whether biography, poetry, novel, song — you don't take the time to write something without a purpose in mind! With variation between their specific goals, overall each Gospel writer's agenda was to persuade their audience that Jesus is worth following, and/or to offer encouragement to those who already believed.

Another thing that modern readers sometimes interpret as intentionally deceptive is that, yeah, the Gospels contain things that aren't strictly factual, and that the writers knew weren't strictly factual. This is because ancient ideas about history & biography are very different from our own. When we read a biography, we expect it to be all facts, with citations proving those facts. But the ancients were much less concerned with making sure every detail was accurate; instead, they were focused on making their specific point about whatever thing or person they were writing/reading about. So yes, they might embellish one detail or leave out another in order to fortify their desired message. They cared more about the Truth as they interpreted it than a purely factual account.

On a similar note, each Gospel writer understands Jesus and the meaning behind his story a little differently — hence why they all tell things in slightly different orders, and characterize Jesus differently, etc. This is also understandable — we all interpret stories differently; we all come to different conclusions even when we have the same or similar information. See the section in the google doc titled "each Gospel's essence" to learn more about the different ways each writer characterizes Jesus, and why they may have interpreted him the way they did.

On that topic, let's get to your question about...

Jesus — Messiah, or no?

If you read the Gospel of Matthew and take it as pure fact, you'll determine that Jesus is the Messiah his people were waiting for — that he did indeed fulfill various scriptures. But if you read Mark, you won't find that argument at all! To the author of Mark, Jesus clearly did not match the stipulations of the awaited-for Messiah — and for Mark, that's kinda the point: that Jesus is something new and surprising, unlike anything human beings expected, upturning our ideas of power and salvation.

...So how did they come to these vastly different views??

Well, Matthew was a Jew writing to persuade his fellow Jews that the Jesus movement was worth joining; to do so, he felt he had to "prove" that it fit into Jewish tradition. So he prioritizes showing how Jesus is a righteous Jew who abides by Torah, and that he is indeed the Messiah they've been waiting for.

(It's also worth noting that when Matthew writes, over and over, about Jesus "fulfilling" various bits of Hebrew scripture, that verb "fulfilling" doesn't mean what it might sound like to us — that a given text was always and only about Jesus, with the prophet having Jesus in mind when they wrote it. Rather, to Matthew "fulfilling" the text meant "filling it up" with more meaning — adding to its meaning, not replacing the old meaning. More on that, with citations, in the Google doc.)

Meanwhile, Mark's author was a Jew writing mostly to gentile members of the early Jesus movement. He knew they wouldn't care whether or not Jesus fit the Jewish expectations for a Messiah! (In fact, giving Jesus a bit more of a "Greek" flair would appeal to them more.) So Mark doesn't perform the mental and rhetorical gymnastics that Matthew does to try to make Jesus fit the Messiah requirements.

So which Gospel got it right?

For many matters of scripture, I say "it's open to interpretation!" or "Maybe both are right in different ways, conveying different truths!" But for this particular case, it is very important as Christians to accept that Jesus absolutely does not fit the Jewish requirements for their Messiah. To argue otherwise is antisemitic — it's supersessionist, meaning it claims that Christianity supersedes or replaces Judaism.

We might understand, as the author of Mark did, Jesus to be a messiah — which just means "anointed one" in Hebrew (the Greek counterpart is "Christ") — without making antisemitic claims that Jews "failed to recognize their own Messiah." (In fact, there are multiple messiahs in scripture, e.g. in Isaiah 45, the foreign king Cyrus is referred to as God's messiah; though later scriptures like Daniel do start talking about a specific Messiah who will usher in redemption & a new age for the Jewish people.)

We can understand why some of the biblical authors, like Matthew, interpreted Jesus as this specific Messiah as a result of their own specific context, without agreeing with their view. See this post about “Anti-Jewish Content in the New Testament: Why it’s there and what we should do about it” for more on this important topic. (You can also find even further resources on supersessionism in this post.)

...Okay, so we've looked at the authors of the Gospels a good bit. We've learned that their idea of a "biography" is very different from ours — that they didn't consider it bad to rearrange, leave out, or embellish accounts — but what does that leave us with when it comes to knowing who Jesus "really" was?

What can we know for sure about Jesus?

Let's look at the facts. The first one is: we don't have any. Not any 100% certain ones, anyway. The guy lived before audio recorders and cameras; we're relying on written and oral accounts, which can be fabricated.

However, there are points about the Jesus story that are regarded as almost certainly historical by the vast majority of historians today, so let's look at those first:

Jesus almost 100% certainly existed. There is enough historical evidence (both inside and outside the Bible) to confirm this — even non-Christian historians almost unanimously agree that there was a historical Jesus. (Phew, am I right?)

Almost all historians also agree that several parts of Jesus' story almost definitely happened: that he was baptized in the Jordan; that he traveled around teaching and offering miracles (whether or not they agree he actually had the power to perform real miracles, of course); and that he was arrested and crucified by the occupying Roman Empire.

Some of these almost-irrefutable claims lend plausibility to others: if he traveled around teaching, what was he teaching? Why not the sermons, the parables recorded in the Gospels? And if he was crucified — the death of a criminal, an insurrectionist — what did he do to get himself crucified? He must have done something to cause Rome to see him as a threat to their Empire — why not some of the sayings and actions that are recorded in the Gospels, like his claim to be "Son of God" (a title used for Caesar); his protest march into Jerusalem satirizing Caesar; and his disruption at the Temple?

The attempt to determine which parts of scripture are "authentic," i.e. things that really happened / things Jesus really said," is often called "The Quest for the Historical Jesus."

Over the decades, scholars interested in this pursuit have developed various "criteria of authenticity," which they use to try to determine how probable any given bit of the Gospels is. In the google doc, I summarize the history of this "quest" and describe some of the most popular criteria. But what's important to understand is that these criteria have major limitations — they're often applied somewhat arbitrarily, for one thing, and ultimately they can't "prove" for sure whether something in the text is definitely historical or definitely not. So honestly, this is not a field of study that I recommend everyone go immerse themselves in! When I do, I have fun for a while, then kinda end up more overwhelmed by how much we can't know.

Still, sometimes these criteria of authenticity do yield some interesting points. For instance, the "Criteria of Embarrassment" (yes, that's what it's called lol) asserts that anything in the text that would have been embarrassing to its author is more likely to be historical fact — because why would the author have made something up that puts them in an unflattering light, or might be used to argue against their message?

For example, a lot of Gospel stories depict Jesus' disciples being kinda clueless, or saying petty things, or failing miserably (e.g. the denial of Peter). Why would the Gospel authors have wanted to make these earliest believers, who are meant to be role models for their audience, look so bad? This criterion says that wouldn't — that they must include those stories because they really happened, rather than being things the author made up to make their point.

Or take the Criterion of Multiple Attestation, which determines how many sources include a certain saying or event. The more sources contain a specific story, the more plausibly "authentic" that story is, since it means that different unconnected communities knew that story. Logical enough.

So yes, there are ways to consider the historicity of the Gospels — but not definitively. So the question becomes: is the historical knowledge we do have enough for me to feel some level of, I don't know, peace? stability in my faith?

And, at the end of the day, how important to me is it that every single thing the Gospels say is completely factual?

Back to what matters: the Good News

Facts are great — God gifted us our minds, and various scripture stories show God encourages us to wrestle with the text! — but we are called to faith as well.

Furthermore, taking the Bible seriously means accepting it for what it is — a collection of ancient texts compiled by humans, even if guided by Divinity — rather than insisting it be what it is not. For the Gospels, that means accepting that they are not biography, but story, and prioritize Truth over fact.

My pastor friend Roger puts it like this:

“For me, it isn’t about deciding which things Jesus really said or didn’t say. That’s a road that goes nowhere. As a pastoral response, I take scripture at face value and work to empathize with the people in and behind the text. Through that empathy, I can find some meaning that connects with what we’re facing here and now.”

When we acknowledge that the Bible includes human interpretations of the Divine, and that we bring our own human interpretations to our reading of it, where does that leave us?

It leaves us in need of conversation, of an expansion of our perspectives by talking through scripture in community. We do that conversing with friends, or attending Bible studies at church, or reading a variety of theological texts — getting as many unique understandings of Jesus as we can, joining our ideas together to get an ever broader glimpse of the Divine.

There's a reason Jesus taught in parables: he didn't want there to be one definitive answer to matters of life and faith! He wanted to ignite conversation, to draw us into community — because it's in community that we are the image of God, the Body of Christ.

So keep on wrestling, wondering, talking it through (taking time to rest when needed — there's no rush!). We discover scripture's meaning for us in our own place and time through the wrestling, together.

#reading and studying the bible #bible tag #the quest for the historical jesus #gospels #historical criticism #biblical criticism #essays #i didn't do a great job of citing all my sources in this post -- for citations go to the google doc!#there's a list of further reading at the top of the doc too btw

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chansabsfanclub · 1 year

Text

Han NSFW Alphabet

genre : suggestive smut, gender neutral reader

word count : 1477

warning : suggestive and some smutty content

A/N : Han is my bias so I had lots of fun with this, I'm sorry I took such a long break from writing, I hope you enjoy this addition to the NSFW collection.

After care :

Jisung's super goofy and loving, giving lots of kisses all over his partners face. He'll give compliments and cuddle them tightly, he wants to make sure they feel loved, while keeping the mood light and fun.

Body (favourite body parts) :

He loves his hands, how they look on his partners body and when they hold his partners neck and face. Jisung would love his partners booty, he'll rub it and praise them about how hot they are and hold onto it tightly during sex.

Cum :

Messy when he cums, he loves cream pies but only if his partner is on birth control or has a kind of contraceptive, or anal.

Dirty secret :

He hides how Horny he actually is because he thinks it would scare his partner if they knew how much he jerked off and thought dirty thoughts. Until eventually him and his partner got close enough where he didn't hide it anymore.

Experience :

This man will brag about how he has alllll the experience in the world, he makes it sound like he's the sex expert, but in reality he is relying on the corn hub for his information, and when he actually gets to the down and dirty part, he'll get awkward and make jokes to cope. Very little experience in other words.

Favourite Position :

Doggy style all night, he can grip his partners ass, pull on their hair, fuck them as hard and roughly as he can, and he finds that the position makes him cum the hardest, it also helps him reach his partners most sensitive spot inside.

Goofy :

Jisung is extremely goofy, especially when it comes to sex, he'll sneakily go in for a motto boat, he'll be teasing and laughing and it helps his partners relax as well if they're nervous or shy, he's easy going and thats what helps make him so lovable.

Hair :

Jisung will do a complete shave every couple of weeks, then let it grow out, it's a lot of work to keep it constantly shaved down, so he has a little routine going where he'll take everything off and then let it grow out, then repeat.

Intimacy :

King of PDA, from making cute faces to holding hands and cuddling on a bus ride to home, he will actively show affection to his partner no matter what. He has his limits though, cute PDA is good with him, anything sexy or promiscuous would make him too embarrassed and awkward.

Jerk off:

He will find the time to do it every day at least once, maybe twice if he feels like it. His sex drive is crazy and his horny levels are insane, so he's jerking off a lot which doesn't help his case. Don't worry, he's not an addict. Yet.

Kink:

He's not the most kinky out there, he has a few such as back scratched, he'll beg his partner to dig their nails into his back as he fucks them, as well as pet names and such. He's pretty open to new things though.

Location:

Anywhere in the house with a solid surface. You're taking a shower together? He'll make you hold onto the wall for dear life. In the kitchen making breakfast, prepare to be lifted onto that counter. As long as there's no one else in the house Jisung will initiate something anywhere.

Motivation:

His motivation is his hormones, you could be sitting on the couch watching tv and turn him on. His dick has a mind of its own, so in terms of motivation he will be motivated anytime there's an opportunity.

No :

Noooooo public sex, not for him and never will be, he'a a huge flirt but he also has his dignity he's not willing to risk just to get down and dirty. He'll stay away from public spaces when it comes to naughty stuff, only closed off locked spaces will do.

Oral :

His best friend, hes a rapper his tongue knows how to move, he can do oral really well, and he also enjoys seeing your mouth wrapped around his dick as you suck him off.

Pace :

He can do any pace depending on the situation. He's the master at quickies, and if it's slow and sensual you want he can do that too, but he might get carried away and fuck your brains out.

Quickies :

Jisung is down for a quickie anytime any day, his high sex drive needs tending and there's not always time to get sensual, quickies are his best friend.

Risk :

Is Ji the most risky person out there? No, he'll get super embarrassed if someone were to walk in on something, so he keeps his risk fairly low just to keep SOME of his dignity. But, he wouldn't be opposed to a quick blowjob under his studio desk to take his mind off his projects.

Stamina :

He has pretty good stamina, we've all heard him rap, his tongue can work miracles and he has enough stamina to make you cum on his face. He can last around 15 minutes if it's slow and sensual, but if it's a quickie he'll get both him and his partner cumming in less than 5.

Toys :

He feels a but intimidated by them, he's 100% supportive if his partner wants to use them, but he'll get a bit scared if anything super extreme were to come out and be suggested.

Unfair :

He teases, I know he teases, you know he teases its a universal thing. He'll be dangling sex in front of you like a feather toy to cats. "Hmm, should I fuck you? I don't think you'd like that. I guess we won't fuck." And other stuff like that.

Volume :

Jisung is vocal, he's not screaming or anything, but he can't help but mutter out a "Yes baby" or "You feel so good". He'll even let moans slip out of his mouth as he gets closer to his release.

Wild Card :

"Hey Ji, I'm here, I stopped by the convenience store as well." I called out to my boyfriend as I entered the studio. It was late and Jisung was stuck on a song he desperately wanted to finish. He had texted me to come keep him company since Chan and Changbin had already went back to the dorm.

Jisung turned in his chair to face me and smiled widely. "I'm so glad you're here! This is killing me." He fake cried and opened his arms for a hug. I giggled at him and went over to hug him tightly. I sat on his lap and he turned back to his computer.

I watched as he worked for a while, his shoulders would tense and then relax, and his face would scrunch and he'd hold his breath, eventually releasing it after finishing something. He was super stressed, and I have an idea how to help him.

I got off his lap and slid under the desk, his face turned from confused to excited really quick. "Baby, are you gonna..."

"Shh, keep working." I interrupted him, he went back to his project, my hands went to the band of his sweatpants, tugging them down slowly, he lifted his butt so I was able to brings them down to his feet, his dick in his underwear was already starting to get hard, it was just too easy with him.

My hand gently rubbed his dick through his underwear, I could hear him let out a sigh as I pressed down lightly onto him. My fingers teased at his underwear, slightly tugging them down just so his tip was showing, I brushed my thumb over it making him quiver slightly.

"I thought this was supposed to be a stress relief." He jokingly said, his breath caught in his throat as I took his whole cock in my mouth.

X-ray :

Jisung gives off average dick energy. He's my bias okay, so I'm being completely honest, he doesn't have the biggest dick energy. I'll give him 6 inches, with a bit more girth, but nothing crazy, he knows how to use it though, from all the jerking off.

Yearning :

He craves sex, we've been over this. When it comes to sex drive he could make it from one side if Canada to the other.

Zzz :

Passes out right away, after they've finished, he'd wrap his arms around his partner and cuddled them to sleep, passing out right away.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fanfic #m.list #stray kids masterlist #skz fanfic #han jisung #han skz #jisung smut #stray kids reactions #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfiction #han jisung smut #han jisung stray kids #han jisung imagines #han jisung x reader #jisung x reader #jisung imagines

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