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daegall · 7 months

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☆ tiny mishap

➷ in which your very protective boyfriend interrogates you about a certain wound you have

pairing: (opla!)bf!zoro x reader

genre: fluff, slight crack, established relationship!AU

warnings: injuries, booze, mentions of self harm (it is assumed, but false) based off opla!zoro, but has chopper bc chopper <3

word count: 1.5k words

a/n: to my nct audience; LOL SORRY IF THIS CAME UP IN UR FEED AND YOU GOT CONFUSED 😇🙏 currently obssesed over one piece live action dude i physically cannot explain how much i love all the characters :( (esp koby and nami's character development!!!) anw ive been having a major zoro brainrot so :) enjoy!!!

You grumble and keep a hand to your cheek, shoulders slumped and sore, as you walk into the kitchen, in search of someone specific.

Chopper, your trusty nurse and adorable friend, of course. Who else would heal the cut on your face and bruises on your arm?

Hearing a little action going on in the kitchen, you can only assume is your captain Luffy, or Usopp, as they both are food lovers, after all.

"Hey, have you guys seen Chopper anywhe–"

However, once you make it inside the kitchen, you are shocked to see the person you've been avoiding this whole morning.

"Oh," You breathe out. A frown curls on your lips once you realize he's got a bottle of booze wrapped in his hand, bringing it up to his lips as he turns to gaze at you. "Damn it, I thought I hid those..."

Your boyfriend's got a nasty habit of drinking alcohol. Anytime he wanted. Bored? He's either napping, training, or drinking his stupid booze. Tired? Booze. Feeling happy or sad? Stupid booze.

You've been trying to stop him before he becomes 80% alcohol, but he's better at finding it than you are at hiding it.

"Morning," Zoro mumbles, as he puts his bottle down. "tried to hide these just like you've been hiding from me me all day?"

At his words, you look away, taking a step away from him. "I don't know what you're talking about,"

"Why are you holding your cheek?"

When your eyes flicker back at him, he's got a worried frown, a crease in his eyebrows some might mistake as anger, but you recognize it as care.

He cares for you, and you hate how soft it makes you.

"It's just... cold," You attempt to lie, rubbing at your skin. Bad idea, as you fail to stop your hiss of pain.

Zoro instantly walks towards you, his hands releasing his bottle of beer, and his swords, to raise it to your face. One hand hovers over your uncovered cheek, the other wrapping it's fingers around your wrist gently.

"Show me."

You still, not knowing what to do. You know you're gonna succumb to him anyway, so there's no need to put up a fight, but you can't help how stubborn you are.

So, you don't step away, but you don't lower your hand anyway.

"Y/N," Zoro says sternly.

"It's nothing, I swear, just a tiny... mishap,"

"Then show me,"

Despite his voice being so harsh, and his gaze just as much, you know this is all because he loves you. You can tell by the way his thumb softly runs over your skin, you can tell by the way he steps closer to observe further, you can tell by the way he doesn't force you. He trusts that you trust him, and you hate how it works on you every time.

"Do you at least have any bandages?"

With your tiny voice and small gaze up at him, Zoro knows you've given in.

"You know I always do,"

It's true. With the amount of fights he gets himself into, he has at least 2 packs on him. Also in case you scrape your knee or get a papercut. It's the small things he does that assure you he cares.

He finally releases his grip on your wrist, walking back to pick up his bottle of beer on the counter. Before he can even take a sip, however, you hop onto the counter in front of him, and snatch the bottle, shaking your head.

"It's 10 in the morning." You remind him sternly.

Zoro can't stop the tiny smirk on the corner of his lips, huffing. "Yeah, yeah,"

You know he loves you, he knows you love him too.

It's the tiny things like this that prove it. The way you try to make him a better man, the way you'd instantly take care of his wounds yourself, the way you shush the other crewmembers when he's napping. And unlike you, he loves how soft it makes him.

"Take your hand off now."

Though you have a disapproving look, and grimace, you comply, slowly lowering your hand from your cheek.

You look down at your lap once you hear his sharp intake of air, playing with the hem of your shirt.

Zoro can't take his eyes off the cut on your cheekbone, his heart sinking impossibly quickly, cracking when he sees a bruise right under the cut. "What the fuck happened?"

"It just... happened," You mumble weakly.

"Who did it?" Zoro'a voice, once again, is harsh, but you hear the shake in it, worry.

"...I did,"

You know he takes it the wrong way the next second, considering how you answered him, you would have skipped to conclusions yourself.

"You're harming yourself?!"

You interject immediently, reaching out to grab his wrist, "No! God, no, Zoro,"

You haven't said his name until now, and it still manages to send a wave of warmth over his body. The way you are so quick to reassure him, the way you lean into his warmth, how your skin rubs against his comfortingly, it all warms him inside. He's only ever felt warm with you, which is why he loves you so much.

"Then how did it happen?"

At his question, you frown again, but it's less serious than before, it's more of a pout, if anything.

"It's stupid."

"It's not stupid if you're getting hurt."

"You'll think it's stupid,"

"Our captain is Luffy, whatever you do can't be that bad."

Zoro waits patiently for your answer, taking out the band-aid from his pocket. His eyes shine with anticipation, no longer (that) angry, and you're glad he isn't as worried anymore. You hate making him worry.

"I..." You hesitate for a second, tearing your eyes away from his gaze. You decide that it doesn't matter if he laughs or not in the end, because he won't ever see you differently. He's your Zoro, and he'll always be by your side.

"You know how there was a storm last night?"

Your boyfriend's eyebrows raise at your words, and he nods silently, gently sticking the band-aid to your cheek. He blows on it, making sure it's secure.

"I fell off my bed and face planted onto the floor,"

At your words, Zoro completely freezes, his fingers grazing the skin of your jaw. You can't tell what he's quite feeling, as one, you didn't have the pride to look at him for more than 2 seconds, and two, he remains as emotionless as a rock.

"...Zoro?"

Suddenly, there's a sound. A strange sound that comes from him. It's unfamiliar, but... strangely warm. You come to a conclusion that Roronoa Zoro, your cold, stoic boyfriend, is laughing. He's laughing with his whole heart, eyes squinting as he finally smiles, the prettiest, most precious smile you have ever seen.

Zoro's forehead lands on your shoulder as he continues, an arm wrapping around your waist to secure you in place.

"Roronoa Zoro are you laughing at me?"

"N-no–" He snorts. How dare he lie to your face.

Although he did flat out lie to your face, it's endearing. His laugh and smile is new, comforting, and you swear your could listen to it your whole life and not complain.

"I-I'm not laughing at you, I promise!"

"Doesn't look like it," You huff out with a grumble, facing away from, attempting to hide the shy smile curling on your lips.

"N-nooo!" Zoro chuckles. A sudden warm feeling envelops not only your chin, but your whole entire being, as Zoro tilts your head back to him, your heart almost stopping at the sight of his charming grin.

He's grinning.

And it's all because of you.

You have to admit, you're proud of yourself.

"You're just... too adorable,"

"Roronoa Zoro, you're flirting with me now?!"

"Shhh!" He shushes you, though its playful, and loving, placing his index finger on your smiley lips.

You two sit there, alone and together, for minutes on end, unable to let the moment become a memory. Zoro resumes with patching you up, caressing the bruises on your arm comfortingly.

It's moments like these that make you realize just how special you are to Zoro, and just how special he is to you, because who else on planet earth would be able to get him to laugh thay hard, grin that much, and love you that much?

You'd crash into the floor a million times if it meant seeing Zoro's smile, you'd admit to any embarassing moment, if it meant having to hear his melodious laugh.

"You know," He breaks the peaceful silence, causing you to grow concious of how you were staring at him. To be fair, the both of you don't mind staring at each other. What's there to hide? You love him, he loves you.

"you could come nap with me if you want. I could keep you anchored to the bed so you don't fall out again."

Considering how much he valued his hours of sleep, and alone time, this is something big he asks you of, and you feel a sweet warmth stirr in you.

This time, you don't grow shy, or snarl at his sarcastic remark. Rather, you grin at your lover, reaching up to pinch his chin playfully. "You'd like that, huh?"

"Don't say you wouldn't,"

"And if I drag you down with me?"

Zoro shrugs, ruffling your bed-head. "We'll both get to laugh and patch each other up."

You reach up to peck his cheek, before hopping off the counter. "I'll take you up on that someday,"

#roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #zoro #one piece #one piece imagines #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro imagines #zoro imagines #one piece live action #opla #roronoa zoro live action #zoro live action

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baeshijima · 1 year

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— perfect

your parents believed you were destined for each other, though it would seem they hadn't taken into account your differing ideals.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 1.2k wc, fluff, arranged!marriage au, basically arranged partners-to-strangers-to-lovers, jing yuan in denial until he can... no longer deny it

A/N : this was supposed to be a one paragraph brainrot. what happened.

when you first heard of your prospective marriage partner, you didn't feel all that much for him. granted, there was only so much you could feel when listening to your parents ramble on. he was supposedly the son of a family friend — the ones who served the realm-keeping commission. he was set to graduate the academy in a few months, but that's all you really paid attention to before tuning out.

it wasn't long when you finally met, and you soon discovered you didn't mind him as much as you'd thought. well, that was until you took note of the clear lack of interest he held for you (for anything since you saw him, for that matter). he was aloof, never speaking more than a couple words before turning away and focusing on something else. with the boundaries clear alongside his lack of interest, you decided it wasn't worth the effort. your parents will just have to deal with it.

the next you heard of him was a few months later, the day after his graduation. apparently, he had enlisted into the cloud knights and was now part of their ranks.

your parents called it rebellious, you called it escaping his fate.

you don't see nor hear from him for a couple of years, instead finding out his achievements through gossipmongers and the occasional exaggerated tales you hear on your strolls. at least he's out there making a name for himself and doing what he loves, free and unshackled at the hands of fate.

he bumps into you when he's on patrol on the luofu, and at first he thinks it to be you trying to reach out again, only to be stumped at the uninterested — dare he say, annoyed — look you give him before stalking away in the opposite direction. but he shrugs it off thinking you had a bad day, returning to his duties in maintaining the peace of the luofu.

he runs into you again when you're out food shopping. it's a complete and utter coincidence you're both in the same place once more; you out on errands while he is on duty. oddly enough, he's doused in a wave of peace and content from just watching you from afar, the knowledge that he is capable of protecting you has him prouder than he'd like to admit.

that doesn't last for long, however, for you suddenly shift in place, your expression now more clear than it was earlier. jing yuan's heart stops then, plummeting into an abysmal pit as his eyes zero in on the new expression. your smile is far more beautiful than anything he could ever hope to imagine.

(in a trance, he wonders if you would ever direct that smile towards him.)

it's not until a little later he finds himself wondering about how you're faring, having half the mind to reach out through a letter before ultimately scrapping the idea. after all, he has to focus on his training, not over his arranged partner who probably doesn't even want him after that stunt he pulled all those years ago (he wouldn't either, if he were in your shoes).

and so he ignores the ache in his heart when he spots you from his peripherals. he ignores the urge to abandon his post and remove the bags from your grip and transfer them into his own. he ignores the desire to have a proper conversation with you, one that doesn't result in him being tongue-tied and you annoyed. he ignores the desperation surging through his nerves to hold your hand in front of everyone, wondering what your skin would feel like against his calloused palms.

he ignores it all, and he ignores it well.

so why is it now he finds himself breaking into a sprint after catching a glimpse of your side profile, ignoring the calls of his fellow knights in fear of losing you — the chance to finally speak to you and settle this once and for all because screw it. screw his hesitation, screw his yearning — screw it all!

when he finally reaches you he's at a loss, the words which once seemed so clear in his mind now fizzled out on the tip of his tongue. it's laughable, really, how he's praised for being quick-witted and yet he's reduced to nothing but a gaping mess in your presence. so he just stares at you with a heaving chest, your furrowed countenance making his heart stutter more than it really should.

it's not until you turn to leave that he panics, latching onto your wrist in a last-ditch attempt as a strangled "wait!" flies past his lips. you don't recoil from his touch, so he supposes that's a good thing, even if your glare is anything but that.

"i... i want to apologise for how we started off," he stutters, tripping over his words as he lays himself bare, exposing his heart for you to judge; for you to determine whether he is worthy enough to be by your side. there's so much more for him to say — so much more he wants, no, needs to get off his chest before you slip away yet again.

should he start off with how he could only speak a couple of words when you first met because he feared stumbling over his words and making a fool of himself? or should he say he wanted to build up his courage before facing you, and that part of his reasoning to join the knights was in hopes of finding that? (although it was a bit of a belated realisation, but no one's keeping track!) oh, or should he start off with—

"is that all you have to say?" your voice is smoother than he last remembers, though maybe it's the fact he's only ever heard you speak directly to him a couple of times, having heard your voice when on patrol more than he has face to face. if it weren't for you clearing your throat, jing yuan would have forgotten to answer.

he quickly snaps himself out of his trance, pushing down the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck. "if it's alright with you, would you..." he gulps in apprehension, chest constricting as he fumbles to regather his thoughts. he sucks in a breath and lifts his head to meet your gaze, revelling in your slightly widening eyes. "if it's alright with you, would you like to start over again?"

silence ripples between you after his words. can you hear his heart hammering behind his sternum? can you see his breaths quicken in anticipation? can you feel his hand become unbearably warm against the skin of your wrist?

oh god he hopes not.

but then your voice ceases his thoughts, your amused smile doing little to help his above mentioned symptoms. "i'm [name]. it's nice to meet you," your voice trails off a little, and he doesn't bother hiding the growing smile when he realises what you're doing.

and so he eagerly plays along, losing himself in the warmth you provide when you slip your hand into his.

"i am jing yuan. and... likewise, [name]."

(jing yuan decides the sensation of your skin against his calloused palms is unlike anything he's felt before. if he had to put it into words, he would say it's perfect.)

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #jingyuan x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #jing yuan x you #jingyuan x you #honkai star rail imagines #hsr imagines

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catiuskaa · 5 months

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sway with me —bf!minho thoughts.

A/N: the bf!thoughts series is finished! I’m so happy I could finish it. I had so much fun coming up with these lil scenarios. Feel free to check them all out, they’re all linked in my masterlist!

(because everyone loved chan's edition so much and it's really easy to get ot8 brainrot for headcanons and because i love my little bunny boy minho~!)

(this ended up being longer than expected lol)

minho, who’s been training all afternoon inside the company’s practice room. He feels sweaty as he pants, laying on the floor.

minho, who’s so comfortable resting on the wooden floor that doesn’t even bother to open his eyes when the door creaks open, a known silhouette entering with small steps.

minho, who can’t stop a small smile that creeps from the deepest parts of his body when he hears your soft tone of voice call his name, almost in a whisper. “Minho, baby? Are you awake?” For a moment, he pretends to be asleep, and relaxes his body, feeling you move closer to him.

minho, who snickers before lauching his body over yours, rolling on the floor with your body pressed tightly against his, and then stops, smiling from all your giggling when he pins you down.

minho, who gently lowers his head and stays right above yours, almost tempting you to move when he boops your nose with his, then tenderly leaves a shy kiss on your forehead.

minho, who gets too shy after that display of affection that he grins slyly, abruptly letting all his weight on you.

minho, who teasingly refuses to move from on top of you, a childish mockery that you cherish because of how sappy and cute he looks when he wiggles his eyebrows and raises his tone of voice, just like a toddler.

minho, who blushes furiously after you enticingly start peppering his face with kisses, unconciously leaning for more, but then, he reminded himself where you both were.

minho, who quickly rushes back to his feet as you cackle, still on the floor. “Yeah. Reeeeeeally funny.” He mumbles, not being able to cover his red-tinted cheeks or his flustered smile.

minho, who says he has to finish his training. “just one more time, jagi.” He claims, lying through his teeth.

minho, who only wants to dance again because he loves to feel your stare on him as his body moves to the music, smirking at you through the mirror when your cheeks turn slightly pink.

minho, who grins like a fool when you recognize the song and stand up from the sofa, cheeky as you laugh and state that you know this dance better than he does.

minho, who lets you have the spotlight as you laugh, making up moves as you dance, letting the rythm and the melody guide your way.

minnho, who loves to see you dancing anytime, not only because of how good your skills may or may not be, but because how cheerful you look.

minho, who finishes practice and gets home with you with a big smile on his face despite how draining training can get sometimes.

minho, who thinks the best part of the day is when he comes out of the shower and you smile at him, moving your paperwork somewhere else as you start heating up dinner for both of you.

minho, who backhugs you and moves his hand from your waist to underneath your shirt, a move not overly sexual coming from him, but rather one that makes your heart flutter.

minho, who slowly sways your body as he humms, happy that you like dancing and cooking with him, but even happier that you are here with him.

(aish it got so fluffy i almost cried abkdbakdjakd so cute i love minho ajdjajdjkadka —more incomprehensible sounds from cuteness overload—)

#just look at him #HE LOOKS SO GOOD WITH GLASSES #i want to nomnom #HIS SMILE #i cant even #brb swooning #simping #stray kids #stray kids x reader #soft hours #lee minho fluff #stray kids fluff #minho headcanons #lee know #stray kids scenarios #lee know headcanons #skz scenarios #stray kids imagines

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ponderingmoonlight · 6 months

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Gojo's little sister seducing Choso at Shibuya

Pairing: Choso x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,6k

Synopsis: When Gojo's little sister is at Shibuya in order to find her brother, she meets none other than Choso - a man that seems to have everything she has ever dreamed about. Is she able to seduce him?

Warnings: the end is spicy as hell so read at own risk, Choso being a lil slow but straightforward in the end, this has no real plot so be aware of brainrot

Tags: @96jnie @shebibtedmypepnis @chososwhoresblog @sanicsmut (you didn't ask for that but I tagged you anyway) @curlynoodle937565 @ifuckfictionalmen (thought you might like that) @nyahctrl @khaleesihavilliard

„Let’s see where you are…”, you mumble to yourself.

Satoru has some nerves, letting himself get sealed when the whole country needs him and his stupid six eyes and hollow purple. You’ll definitely make fun of him for the rest of his life for that. What else should you do? After all, you are his little sister. It’s your job to get on his nerves.

Your heels klick against the hard floor beneath almost therapeutically while your eyes scan the area. Seems like none of these fuckers are here. Who the hell is responsible for this whole mess? Surely not that volcano and flower guy from before, right? If Satoru is smart, he already exorcised both of them.

Something inside you makes you stop in your tracks. There is someone, without any doubt.

“Don’t be shy, you don’t have to hide from me. I promise I won’t bite. Just beating the shit out of you”, you announce into the darkness, the only thing lighting up the hallways being the colorful signs.

This definitely isn’t one of Satoru’s students, that’s for sure. None of them is already skilled enough to hide from your sharp senses. Fuck, even Nanami can’t escape you.

So, who the hell is this?

Your nerves begin to tickle just the way you like it, a bright grin plastered on your face. Finally some action, finally someone you can fight eye to eye. How long has it been since you’ve experienced that? Too long, that’s for sure.

Despite being Satoru’s little sister, you aren’t gifted with six eyes or unlimited cursed energy. No, even though being a member of the Gojo-clan you were never able to meet his standards, always a shadow by his side. Gifted with the same blue eyes but without the glow, gifted with a few strands of white hair but your head isn’t fully snow-colored. That didn’t stop you from becoming a grade 1 sorcerer, one of the bests under the special ranks. Yes, you are an exceptional jujutsu sorcerer all by yourself, without being gifted since birth.

But regardless of your big brother always came first, he loves you with all his heart. Protected you when you didn’t want to be protected, trained you even though you hated getting beaten by him, comforted you when all you could do was cry. To be honest, Satoru is the best big brother you could have asked for and it’s your responsibility to save him. What do you have siblings for?

“You’re starting to get on my nerves. Come out or get out of the way.”

Foreign steps start to echo through the hallway, making your heart hammer against your ribcage in an instant. These footsteps don’t sound familiar to you, you haven’t met whoever this is yet.

Your vibrant blue eyes dart towards the figure of what seems like a man, coming closer and closer to you. He’s tall, dark hair hanging into his face. Oh, his face…he’s really handsome with that tattoo over his nose. Since being Satoru’s sister comes with meeting many good-looking man, this is nothing new to you. But something about him is special, more your type. A look into his brown violet eyes is enough to get lost in them.

“You’re hot”, you coo out, heels clicking while you approach him.

“Who are you?”, his deep but bored voice questions.

Choso hates to admit it, but you’re easy on his eyes. Something about your appearance seems familiar while he’s sure he has never seen you before. That ocean eyes…

“You look like Satoru Gojo.”

“Yeah, I hate to admit it but I’m his little sister. Are we really that similar? I don’t want to look like him”, you remark, face twisted.

That means you’re his enemy, that means he has to kill you. Instinctively, he shoots slicing exorcism your way, attempting to pierce right through your heart at horrendous speed.

“Watch out, that is dangerous!”, you warn him, flying through the air with ease to avoid his attack.

Damn, you’re fast. Your speed is exceptional for a human being, almost as fast as Satoru Gojo himself.

“Let me come closer”, you hush.

Before he’s able to react any further, you stand right in front of him, fists flying his direction.

“You’re so quiet, what’s on your mind?”, you insist, careful to not get sliced open by his blood manipulation.

“I wish you were too”, he hisses before catching your fist mid-air and slamming your body into the ground.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad”, you purr, hands grabbing his strong shoulders tightly.

Satoru would kill you right here on the spot if he’d hear you, always disliking your taste in men like nothing else.

“I think he’s kinda hot”, you admitted while eyeing the dark-haired boy from Kyoto named Kamo.

Satoru almost choked on his coke, eyes and face screaming in disgust.

Are you serious, (y/n)? What the fuck is wrong with your taste in men, why always the bad ones? Maybe you should get them checked.”

He roughly smacked the back of your head, making you almost lose it completely.

“Are you out of your mind, idiot? I heard your eyes can freeze if someone hits you in the head while you’re squinting!”

“Your eyes aren’t functioning properly anyway. How about someone like Yuta or somethin’, a nice guy with good intentions. Or even better, just do this world a favor and stay single.”

“Can you just shut the fuck up? You have nothing to say to me!”

“I AM YOUR BIG BROTHER-“

“CAN YOU TWO SHUT UP ALREADY!?”

Hehe. You smile to yourself while shaking your head, focus back on the man in front of you. Oh, you can tell by the way he moves that he’s absolutely buff underneath that cloak. And his eyes…They look even more stunning up close. What a gorgeous man. Yes, he’s definitely more than your type. Who is he?

“Tell me your name.”

With a swift motion, you’re back on your feet, curse-loaded fists aiming for him.

“Choso Kamo”, he presses out.

What’s wrong with you? Are you really trying to seduce him while battling? He’s your enemy, he’s on his way to kill your comrade, he…you…

Why are you so good-looking? And why does your confident smile make his usual calm heart flutter? You don’t seem scared at all, let alone determined to kill him.

“Oh, that explains the blood manipulation.”

“I’m here to kill Yuji Itadori.”

“Yuji, huh? What did that poor boy do to deserve your hate?”, you question, letting yourself fall into a split to avoid his blood.

“He killed my brothers”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

You stop in your tracks for a second, gaze fixed upon his. Oh. This certainly wasn’t the answer you were expecting. In your mind, all of these curses and the people working with them are cold-hearted monsters, walking on this earth to kill every human that gets in their way. But Choso…

You can feel his pain.

“I’m sorry to hear that”, you breathe out.

And you mean it. You’d be devastated too if someone killed Satoru, seeking for revenge with every fiber of your being.

Your glistening eyes and words make it hard for Choso to raise his hand against you. The eyes that look like those of Satoru Gojo, those eyes that are partly responsible for the death of his beloved brothers. No, he can’t let you get away, you are a part of the problem, you have to die, you…

You are grabbing his hand.

“If someone killed my brother, I would do exactly the same thing. But let me tell you this wasn’t easy for Yuji, he had no other choice-“

“I don’t want to hear it”, Choso yells, slapping your hand away, trying to slash you open again.

“Good for you I like my man feisty and strong. You’re a great catch”, you shout, entangling him in close combat again.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t you understand that we are on different sides?”, he questions.

“Why though? We’d be a perfect match. I bet those fingers look good around my neck.”

The way Choso’s face instantly twists in disbelief and that little blush that creeps up his face are the best things you’ve seen for a long time while suddenly water rains down on him, fire alarms going off around both of you.

“Opsie, might have hit something important”, you comment, white uniform now soaked in water.

Did you really just say that? Are you too dumb to realize that he is your enemy, that romance has no place in his world, that he is fucking reincarnated? No, you are way too smart to not be aware of the fact who he is. You simply decide to ignore it.

But not only that, are you really flirting with him? Choso never really thought much about his appearance, it was never his goal to be ‘attractive’. But at the moment, when seeing your wet skin, your eyes lingering over him…

Something about your words and looks make him wonder.

“Do you…really mean that?”, he mumbles while blocking your attack.

“Huh, that you’re hotter than hell? Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m lying.”

Choso feels like fainting when your dripping face comes so close that it’s only inches away from his own, your mesmerizing orbs locking with his through wet lashes while your hands rest against his chest. Can you feel his heart hammer, can you tell that this the first time a women ever touched him? Oh god, what is he supposed to do? He has a mission, he needs to kill Yuji Itadori, he-

Your fingers start to draw small circles over the fabric of his soaked cloak, making something twitch inside his pants. Fuck, why do you have to look so absolutely stunning when your hair is completely wet, light up by purple light that makes you look almost angelic?

“Oh god”, he breathes out.

This feels so good. No, this is so wrong.

“You…you shouldn’t be flirting with me. I am party responsible for your brother getting sealed and killed. I am your enemy.”

“Urgh, stop talking about my damn brother, he’s fine anyway. He doesn’t let himself get killed by some idiots. And you don’t have to me my enemy. Let’s be…friends”, you suggest.

“Friends”, he repeats.

“Maybe more, who knows…I’m not mad about the things you’ve done. I fully understand why you’re outraged and what your mission is, I respect your motives”, you reply.

God, why does he have to be so breathtaking beautiful and relatable? Under all the men you’ve met, why is it exactly him you fell the hardest for? Why can’t it be someone like Ino or Todo? Why does it have to be him? Oh, Satoru will definitely kill you when he finds out about it.

But you don’t care. No, Choso has something you were looking for in every man you’ve met before. He is strong, outstanding smart, has clear goals, is straight up stunning and a little dangerous. You couldn’t care less about the fact that you’re standing on opposite sides.

You want him.

“You won’t stop me from killing Yuji Itadori.”

“I will have to try. But until then, there is absolutely no reason for us to fight, right? I’m into bad guys anyway.”

Choso looks at you completely lost at words. You, a breathtaking fine-looking and skilled jujutsu sorcerer, are really interested in getting to know him? This has to be a dream he didn’t know about until now, a deep desire that comes to life.

But he can’t resist. Despite all the things that speak against it, he can’t.

“Fine”, he grumbles.

“Great! Would you mind taking off that cloak so I can see your abs?”, you ask, eyes sparkling in excitement.

But why is this not enough? Why is a simple ‘fine’ not enough to fulfill that desire? Something inside him begs him to pull you closer, to hold your body firmly against his, kiss you and-

He swallows heavy. What has gotten into him?

“I won’t do that”, he automatically replies, gaze fixed on your pretty little mouth.

Oh, the things he wants to do right now, things he never thought about before. Is it because of the human body he reincarnated him? No, he never felt the desire to be close to a woman before. It’s because of you and the way you tilt your head, how you seem to know which words you have to use in order to drive him insane.

“Oh, was it too early for that? Fine, I’ll wait then… ”

Fuck it.

It happens faster than you’re able to react. With a swift motion, Choso pins you against a nearby wall, looking down at you with dark eyes.

“What do you have that other women haven’t had before?”, he hisses.

“Beauty, brain, power…”

You aren’t able to finish your ramblings. With rough hands, he grabs your waist and neck before pressing his lips against yours. You melt into his touch in an instant, too stunned by this sudden reaction. Instinctively, your very own hands begin to roam around his body, muscles now perfectly emphasized by the stream of water that pours down on both of you through the dim purple neon lights. Fuck, you’re melting like butter in his hands, your shared sloppy kiss being the only thing apart from the dripping water that fills the empty hallway.

“Fuck”, you moan into his lips, fingertips tracing through his wet hair.

This is straight out of your dreams. Making out with a man you didn’t even know an hour ago, a man that seems to have everything you want, a man who’s your enemy. But since when are enemies this good at kissing, since when is it allowed that they are so damn fine?

Why the hell are you so turned on?

He let’s go of you as suddenly as he grabbed you before, panting hard while looking down at you with glimmering eyes.

“I will search for Yuji Itadori now”, he proclaims, licking over his lips and closing his eyes for a second.

Slowly but surely, Choso returns back into reality, mind sorting itself. That felt good, way too good for his liking. If he didn’t let go, he’d probably stay here with you until the night ends. But he still has a mission to fulfill.

“You sure about that? Y’know, we could stay here a little longer, that fire alarm with all that water pouring down and the neon lights are kinda romantic…”, you begin.

“I’ll meet you again. Until then, don’t get in the way.”

One last touch. He allows his fingertips to brush over your cheek and mouth one last time before turning around and disappearing.

He’s gone, leaving you sinking down the wall as your knees give in. Mindlessly, your fingertips trace over your lips.

This really happened. Did you really just seduce the enemy? Your heart still hammers roughly against your chest, hands trembling in sensation while the water from above keeps pouring down on you. No man ever touched you like that, no man ever gave you that kind of feeling. Fuck, what did you get yourself into?

You chuckle into yourself, eyes fixed on the pouring water.

“If Satoru finds out about that…”

Click here for Part ll

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st4rrth0ughts · 2 months

Text

Ok I know I said I’m taking a break but I’m going to just dump this idea and expand on it soon, warnings below

Reader is aven’s bodyguard, mentions of dead body, death, a bit of a word vomit, and a sfw brainrot (I know, shocking, Im writing on the train anyways) probably ooc aven? Prodding at the hsr 2.1 leaks (if ykyk), I’m not in my computer so no more yellow text T-T

Aventurine peeking into your dreams through that phone in the Penacony dreamscape, only to see you, his precious bodyguard, always so stoic and unemotional, breathing hard, in the ‘real’ dreamscape, desperately yelling his name.

but the feelings of happiness, the feeling that he was important to someone, goes away the moment he sees you mortified, staring at his dead body. He wants to just jump into the dream, hold you and tell you it’s alright, seeing the look of panic, desperation and pure agony in your eyes makes his heart shatter. He would never make you cry, and he certainly wouldn’t want to in your own dream, where it’s supposed to be relaxing.

nothing much he can do about it when he stares at the dream playing out in shock, when your begging, begging for him to wake up, praying to the Amber Lord himself that this dammed nightmare would end soon, and that you would see him alive and well again.

Aventurine has never known how to receive from anyone. All his life, it was him giving, since childhood to his current age as Senior Manager of the IPC. The fact you, on a daily basis, already sacrifice so much for him, your time, freedom, even your own safety, bearing cuts, wounds while Aventurine remains perfectly unharmed was a foreign concept he still struggles to comprehend.

the fact that in a dream state, where your supposed to be happy, thinking about something else, no, even in your dream, it revolves around him. As much as he wanted to be smug and shit and be proud he was the main priority in your life, seeing you quietly sob as you hold the dead body of his doesn’t sit right with him. Never in 700 years. (See what I did there)

the dream ends, and the caller cuts off the call before he can even say anything. He walks aimlessly through Penacony, the dream replaying in his mind.

You crying. You holding him close. Of course, close contact wasn’t exactly unheard of between you two, you always did keep a eye on him, mostly during gambling sessions because of jealous competittors, he can’t count the number of times you pounced on someone for trying to attack him, but to be still cannot wrap his head around the fact that he was so important to you that he was quite literally on your mind even unconscious.

He hears footsteps, and your just right behind him. He always questions and teases you about how fast you can clear up your appearance after it gets disheveled, but he doesn’t say anything as he stares at your slightly trembling hands.

“Apologies for being late, sir. I was caught up in the dreamscape.”

Stop apologising, he wants to yell. You just had one of the most horrific nightmares in your life and your apologising for being late?! He grabs you and pulls you close. Sometimes he wishes he was taller so he could bury you in his chest and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, but feeling your chest in his face isn’t that bad either.

“I’m staying here. I won’t leave you, never did and never will.”

You run your hands through his hair. It’s not just the nightmare, it was the fact you were trying to find him, and overheard his plan to be a sacrifice to reveal The Family’s secrets to the universe. But you can’t tell him that for now, he’ll be sure to make changes so that you can’t interfere and be a self sacrificing idiot (as he puts it).

So you simply nod, thank the Amber Lord that you have those sunglasses that hide your bloodshot eyes as you let yourself be consumed by his lie of forever.

“Likewise, sir.”

#dom male reader #dom reader #dom gn reader #sub character #sub honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #star rail aventurine #sub aventurine #hsr leaks #hsr spoilers #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader

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love-bitesx · 11 months

Text

was booking myself a new tattoo and this is all i could think of ! this is just brainrot ramble

: ̗̀➛ hobie brown x gn!reader - giving him tattoos (and yourself)

thinking about giving hobie sweet little tattoos with a makeshift stick and poke set up. he'd come home drunk one night, slurring his words and holding you close to him, ranting about how he wants you to give him a tattoo (and something about not wanting to pay big corporations for a real tattoo gun). even if you’re not creative, he just wants to be able to look at his skin and see evidence of you, always. you refuse him at the time, telling him he's too drunk and he'll regret it. but when it's the next day, and he's stone cold sober, you walk in on him hunched over the kitchen table, making a little stick and poke creation.

so, it’s late at night, he’s sprawled out across your bed like it was his, his head and shoulders pressed into the headboard, eyes trained on you. straddling his lap, you held his arm up to the lamp, tongue stuck out in concentration. hobie winced everytime the needle met his skin, his free hand gripping at your thigh to outlet the pain. when you're done, and he's all cleaned up, he's lit up with pride, constantly checking his arm in different lights to see your design. "it's perfect, darlin'," he mutters, his lips pressed to your forehead.

he’d very rarely ever wear sleeves again after that, always having your design on show to remind him of you when he’s away. not that he needed it, you always had a comfortable seat in the front of his mind. he’d show it off to his friends, though, all the time.

"oi, pav!" he'd call out to his friend, drawing his attention over to his exposed skin.

"you got a tattoo!" pav would exclaim, hopping over and inspecting it closely.

“my partner did it,” he couldn’t mask the grin from fuzzing his cheeks, “fuckin' sick, right?”

his heart wasn't even prepared for what he'd come home to that night. when he'd climb in through your window, shedding his spider-apparel and kicking his boots off by your dresser, he'd notice your sleeping form. smiling to himself, picking up the sheets and climbing into the empty space, careful not to startle you – not that it would, you were more used to waking up beside him than alone.

his hands wouldn't be able to stop themselves from touching you, needing to feel your skin beneath his fingertips, and beaming at the sleepy sound of his name leaving your lips. when his hands find your hip, however, you jump and groan in pain. he'd pull you to him.

"'the fuck 'appened?" he'd whisper, careful not to touch the area again, but be confused at your reaction.

"tattoo," is all he could catch, through your tired, and possibly pained, groans.

"you what?" he'd mutter, and lift the covers back, hiking up your his t-shirt to expose a tiny black design, sitting on the skin above your hip bone.

etched into you was a tiny spider, hand drawn and adorned with little spikes, similar to his persona. he'd be so taken aback, he wouldn't even know what to say.

"'s'this for me, sweetheart?" his fingers would very lightly ghost the dark outlines, honing into your body's reaction to it, steering clear of the painful areas. he's close to you, very close, and you can feel his heart pounding against his chest.

"mhmm," you moan, your brain finally pulling itself from slumber, warm in the smell of him, tangling your arms around his neck, "all for you."

"fuckin' ell," he breathed before kissing you with such a passion you'd never felt from him before. he was drowning in you, head buzzed at the thought of something of him being on your skin forever, and you on his. heart pouring, he reached for you in every way he could.

he'd be obsessed with both of the tattoos, strongly encouraging you to never ever wear anything high-waisted again, so long as he steered away from sleeves. pride and happiness overtook him when he'd see you with other people, in public or with friends, and see the black ink peek through your clothes, knowing that it was for him, and nobody else.

he just loved you a lot, and he adores the permanent reminders.

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stqr-grl · 11 months

Text

╭﹕🎧｡♡・late night lovin’

୨୧⸝⸝﹕synopsis — your boyfriend just loves fucking you to sleep when you’re antsy.﹐

୨୧⸝⸝﹕warnings — f!reader, established relationship, petnames[doll, pretty thing/girl, sweet girl, etc.], reader has a slight caffeine problem, brief thigh riding, fingering, all characters are 18+, mdni!﹐

୨୧⸝⸝﹕wc — about 1k.﹐

୨୧⸝⸝﹕notes — this is a little bit of a mess but my bllk boy brainrot grows daily and simply have to let others see it !!﹐

nagi’s bag hit the floor with a mild thud, an exhausted sigh leaving his mouth as he struggled to kick his shoes off at the door of your shared apartment. it was no secret that he hated when practice ran over it’s usual time —and admittedly you hated it too—, especially with you in the house sitting up in bed, struggling to stay away as you awaited his arrival.

excepting you to already be in bed, curled up in the the sheets and hugging his pillow, he quietly stalks into your shared bedroom, careful not to awake you only to be surprised to find you awake in bed, phone in hand, the screen illuminating your features.

“doll?” he blinked, “what are you doing up?” he questioned, walking to bed and crawling in, causing a noticeable dip in the soft material as he took you into his warm —and admittedly still sweaty— embrace, the smell of grass still lingering on him as he kissed your temple.

“sei, welcome back! thought i heard you come in,” you beam, returning a kiss to his cheek. “couldn’t sleep, had some coffee earlier.” you explain as nagi sent a disapproving look. “c’mon pretty thing, really? knew getting you that coffee machine would be a future pain..” he mumbled, more to himself than to you.

admittedly he was right, he knew getting you that thing as a present would wreck havoc one of these days and today just so happened to be the day. nagi sighed, shifting to grip your hips and pull you into his thigh, hands slipping up your —technically his— large graphic tee.

you can only giggle at his words, glancing back at him as he moved you from your spot. “what’re you doin’, sei?” you didn’t have to ask, you already know the answer to the question but snowy haired male just smiled as grabbed your plush thighs, forcing them open as he peered over you.

“mh, gotta tire you out pretty thing,” his whispers, slipping his large hand up your graphic tee, hooking his finger on the hem of your laced underwear, careful to be gentle when slipping them down your legs(they were his favorite to see you in and didn’t wanna see them all ruined). “can’t go to sleep without you.”

you squirm in your spot, borderline giddy to have your boyfriend in this moment, having been stripped of his touch all day, blowing up his phone with “i miss you”’s, “need you so bad :(“‘s and plenty of lewd selfies that kept his mind distracted from everything that wasn’t you.

“go ahead ahead angel, ride my thigh,” you shift, turning yourself to face him, gripping his shoulders for support. you didn’t mind having to do the work — you knew your boyfriend was tired, muscles sore from training and wanting nothing more than to be in bed with you.

you start off slow, pacing yourself with a slow grind against his thigh, leaving a noticeable trail of slick in your wake on the black if his shorts. a shaky sigh slips from your lips, at the slight feeling of friction while nagi sits, watching you intently, occasionally flexing the muscles to watch your face scrunched into a frustrated pout as you struggle to get off on his thigh alone.

he knew you couldn’t do it alone, he knew you needed his help and he knew it didn’t feel the same as when he did for you, knowing all the right spots to press and what movements would send you right over the edge — but he liked watching you struggling, hearing the small pleas of his name flood from your mouth asking him to help you out.

feeling rather generous he grabs your hips, the pads of his fingers digging into your hips as he stops your desperate grinds, chest already having a hefty rise and fall as you try to steady your already uneven breath.

one of his hands strays from your hips, finding its way to your sticky folds, spreading them apart, collecting your slick on to of his fingers. you sigh at the feeling of his fingers lazily teasing your hole, drawing what you think are hearts around it.

his thick fingers slowly dig into your weeping cunt, a drawn out moan slipping past your lips, walls fluttering around his fingers as the grip on your grip on his shoulders tightened. “sei–” you whimper, helplessly grinding onto his fingers as his thumb mindlessly plays with your clit.

“hm? do you like that pretty thing? doin’ such a good job taking my fingers,” he whispers, half lidded eyes fluttering shut, fingers methodically in and out of you, curling them upwards, pressing that sensitive spot inside of you.

your body twitches, a mewl being ripped from your chest. “mhm– feels so good, oh fuck–! keep going, please,” the small smirk on his face grows at every little word that floods from your lips. a content hum comes from him when he feels your walls flutter, then clench around his fingers; sucking him in as if you wanted more than he could give.

even while tired, likely on the verge of sleep even whilst doing this, he always had the ability to slowly make you come undone one way or another with such minimal effort and that fact alone stroked his ego but admittedly you shared the same effect on him.

he’d be lying if he didn’t say that seeing you crumble on him like this didn’t leave him with an aching boner — seeing the starry, glossed look in your hooded eyes, mouth slightly agap, breath heavy and chest heaving. you were truly a sight for sore eyes, looking so pretty for him without even having to try.

“gah– y’clamping down on my fingers so tight pretty thing, can barely move,” he huffed, watching your body go limp on top of his large frame, eyes struggling to stay open as whiney moans escaped your chest. you were getting tired, he knew once your orgasm hit that it would be the final blow.

he works his finger in and out of your cunt a bit more, thumb now rubbing quicker circular motions on your clit. the heat in your stomach grew, eyes rolling back as a sudden wave of pleasure washes you, leaving the feeling of sleep in its wake, your eyes soon fluttering shutting as nagi removed his fingers from your sticky, velvety walls.

he sucked both his fingers cleaned, a little pop noise coming from his mouth as he pulled them from his lips, moving you onto the soft mattress and pulling the sheets over your body. he groaned, glancing at the tent his shorts. “nothing that a quick cold shower won’t fix..” he grumbled, pressing a chaste kiss your lips as he climbed out of bed. “gotta take care of myself now.”

2023 ©stqr-grl

#╭❕﹕ ˚₊ sealed #╭🤍﹕ ˚₊ love seishiro #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi x reader #nagi x reader smut #nagi seishiro x reader smut #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x reader smut #blue lock smut #bllk smut #bllk nagi #nagi smut

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rileyslibrary · 1 year

Note

hello! absolutely love your blog <3!! just thought i could share since idk who else to dump my ghost infested brain.. but lately i’ve been brainrotting for fluffy and domestic ghost hh something about helping him shave in the morning before cooking breakfast together and just lazing around in the afternoon drives me insane

Lazy Sunday with Simon

A/N: I got this ask before I decided to turn off the anon option for a while! I’ll let you know when I turn it back on :) There’s more A/N at the end; meet me there!

———————————————————————

He usually wakes up at 6 a.m., regardless of the day of the week. You’ve always marvelled at this trait, secretly envious of his ability to jump out of bed immediately. You wonder if he’s a morning person by nature or if his past military training instilled this reflex. Regardless, you rarely wake up at the same time. And on the rare occasion that you do so, he’s eager to get up as soon as possible, as though laying in bed simply served his survival needs for sleep and nothing else.

But today is different. It’s almost 9 a.m., and you sit on your shared bed, watching him sleep. His chest rises and falls, and you mimic his breath, momentarily experiencing life from his perspective.

As you shuffle to retrieve something from your bedside drawer, he stirs and wakes up.

“Shit!” He curses, shooting up like a spring.

“Simon,” you say to him, your hand halfway to the drawer, “it’s Sunday.”

He checks his phone to confirm your statement, then sighs. Rubbing his eyes, he turns to look at you.

“Good morning,” he says sheepishly.

“Morning,” you respond with a chuckle.

He crawls over to your side of the bed and kisses your lips.

“You, sir, need a shave,” you tease, gesturing to his stubble.

He rubs his chin. “I do, don’t I?” he admits, rising from the bed and heading to the bathroom.

You hear the sound of the toilet flushing, the faucet running, and teeth brushing, followed by a silence that makes you tune in. You can listen to him unscrewing the cap of his shaving cream, whistling as he applies it to his face.

You rise from the bed and enter the bathroom. Simon catches your eye in the mirror’s reflection and raises an eyebrow.

“This room ain’t big enough for the both of us,” he quips, mimicking Nick Grindell from The Western Code.

You smile and press against his back, wrapping your arms around him. “Looks like there’s enough room now,” you say playfully.

He resumes shaving, and you watch him closely; tiny strokes with the razor, then a rinse and repeat.

“Can I try?” you ask, and he stops mid-stroke to look at you.

“I don’t know, can you?” he teases.

“I’ve shaved my legs before,” you reply.

“Exactly,” he emphasizes, “your legs, not my face.” But he hands you the razor anyway and instructs you on how to proceed.

You seem to be doing fine until he suddenly jerks back from the razor and lets out a yell. You panic, but he quickly bursts out laughing.

“Asshole!” you exclaim. “I thought I cut you!”

“That was the point, love,” he chuckles. “You should have seen your face.”

“And you should have seen your face if I had actually cut you!” you quip, brandishing the razor in mock threat.

No matter how long you two live together, he remains his old, caustic self. He is kind and gentle, except when pulling one of his “jokes.” You’ve had to learn to adapt to his sense of humour.

You announce that you’d go to the kitchen to get breakfast started while he keeps on shaving, and he gives you a thumbs up.

———————————————————————

As the kettle on the stove begins to whistle, you deftly mix the pancake batter. He approaches you and stands beside you, watching you whisk.

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” he comments, gesturing towards the bowl.

“Whisking batter?” you question, eyebrows raised.

“You shouldn’t be doing pancakes in general,” he elaborates, lifting his shirt to reveal a hint of a soft belly. “Look.” He says and gives it a slap.

He has put on some weight after leaving the army, but this didn’t bother you as much as it bothered him. The weight gain was not the real issue but rather a manifestation of how he felt - insignificant. He didn’t talk about it directly, but it showed up in other ways. Mumbling to himself while watching the news, for example, reciting what his team would have done differently in that case. Or by reflecting on how he could have helped in recent disasters while discussing with your friends. In this case, it manifested in the form of fishing for compliments.

“You look fine.” You comment, but he rolls his eyes.

“No, I don’t,” he says, “stop lying.”

“Hey,” you wave the whisk at his face, “I never lie, ok?”

He shoots his arms in the air. “First the razor, now the whisk,” he says, “you’re too aggressive today, don’t you think?”

“I like you, no matter what. Understood?” You keep threatening him, and, with a manoeuvre, he takes the whisk off your hands to continue the mixing.

You prepare the table, and he serves the pancakes he cooked. You both sit down at the table, enjoying your breakfast. As you eat, your mind keeps going back to your previous conversation.

“Hey, I was thinking,” you say between bites. “There’s a veterans’ group in town that meets every week. Maybe you could check it out?”

He looks up from his plate and then shakes his head. “No,” he states.

“Why not?” You ask, “it could be good for you to connect with other veterans and share your experiences rather than arguing with the TV.”

He keeps staring at you, and you’re unsure if he feels exposed or contemplates your idea.

“There are other people like you, Simon,” you explain, “good people who went through similar things.”

He shrugs and takes another bite. “What do they do in that group?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” you reply, “but I can find out if you want.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I’ll do that.”

You smile. “That’s great,” you say, relieved, “I think it could really help you.”

He nods and takes another bite. The two of you continue eating and talking, enjoying the simple pleasure of a warm, late breakfast.

———————————————————————

You both lay sprawled on your living room couch. You’re glued to the TV, binging on the new season of “Love is Blind,” while he lies next to you, engrossed in a book.

You notice his eyes flickering towards the screen occasionally, but he tries to hide it. You catch him peeking again and can’t resist poking fun at him.

“Interested, I see?” You ask with a smirk.

“What the fuck is that?” he asks you back with a sneer.

“It’s a reality show,” you explain, gesturing towards the screen. “People date each other in these rooms called ‘pods’ without seeing each other.”

“Huh,” Simon scoffs, “and how do they meet?”

“One proposes, and if the other accepts, they finally meet.”

He puts down his book, stares at the screen, and then back at you.

“Like a marriage proposal?” He asks with raised eyebrows, and you nod.

“You’re kidding,” he states in disbelief.

“No,” you shake your head, giggling, “I’m afraid I’m not.”

He opens up his book again and shakes his head. “What a load of bullshit,” he grumbles.

But as the episodes keep rolling, you can see his resistance slowly crumbling. His book is closed for good now and placed on the side table next to him. “What a load of bullshit” has now turned into “what a fucking nob head!” and “can you believe them?!”

And as the day turns into dusk and the marathon draws ungracefully to an end, he waves his finger at the TV.

“Put the next episode!” he orders.

“It’s not aired yet.”

Simon’s face contorts into a look of pure shock and horror, and you stifle a laugh.

“You can’t be serious, love!” he yells. “When are the next ones supposed to be aired?”

“In two weeks, Si-”

“TWO WEEKS?” he exclaims in a high-pitched voice. “What are we supposed to do for two weeks?!”

“There are three more seasons before this o- “

“Now!” He commands, slapping the cushion with enthusiasm. “Put. The first. Season. Now!”

———————————————————————

Hey, sweet person who requested this and fellow readers! 🍫 Hope you enjoyed it! Maybe I got Simon a little out of character with the “Love Is Blind” scene, but I saw a similar TikTok/IG Reel (I can’t remember where exactly) and instantly thought of him. So I wanted to include it! Also, my stupid ass kept writing “whisker” instead of “whisk” until I thought to google it. Glad I did.

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solverse · 7 months

Text

okay, we all know about SAGAU and its different hundred of aus (not complaining tho, some are chef kiss out there) but like I've been interested in Honkai Star Rail self-aware AU– like i know it's been out for a while but the SAGAU concept is even better when it comes to HSR because of it sheer size and potential.

(not saying Genshin SAGAU aren't good tho.)

It just that I've been having this brainrot and I just need to get it out.

Imagine in SAHSR (yk, self-aware honkai star rail), we got an OC (or reader, if you're more comfortable with that– i refuse to use Y/N, just no) that is an Aeon.

Nothing shocking but lets turn that up a bit by making the OC (or Reader) the oldest yet an unknown Aeon since they went into hiding, but still kept watch of the galaxies. People know little to nothing about OC other than their loyal followers– like, even some of the newer Aeons know nothing about us (or Reader).

My brain rot came up with the Aeon of Mortality. Kinda like an emphasization that we (the Aeon) was here before most of the living being in the galaxies (hence the 'creator' thingy).

Or Aeon of Origin would be a good one too since theres Terminus, the Aeon of Finality.

(kinda like a direct reference to Kiana and Mei, hehe.) But im leaning more towards Aeon of Mortality.

Heck, yk how the Imaginary element embodies the light of lives? yeh, spin that point to how when OC(or Reader), the Aeon of Mortality came into existence, which created the Imaginary element. hell, maybe even drag the Quantum element in too bcs mortality also embodies the aspect of death.

some of the faction/group names i came up with are [Freedom-willed Sworn], [Home of the Epheremeal] and [Anti-Entropy].

not gonna explain the meaning of all of that, but they all gotta do with mortality, freedom, freewill, the will to choose and live, etc.

now thats out of the way, lets get to the fun part!

OC (or Reader) is the Aeon that watches over the Trailblazers (like, us players) and latches onto the Astral Express because they used to be besties with Akilivi ( D: ). Stelle/Caelus have no idea how they got a whole Aeon to get attached to them but they aren't complaining!

(we are also the one enabling the two's trash-loving behavior lmao)

the Astral Express also has no idea why an Aeon, the oldest one (and one they know nothing about) decided to ride along with them. Himeko got used to our presence as we appeared when she repaired the train.

March is confused but happy, Dan Heng is cautious but tolerant and Welt is skeptical but lenient. But slowly, they get used to our presence and might even start liking our help and support!

Asta and Arlan are surprised to know that the oldest Aeon known is constantly watching over them. They've never met an Aeon that interact so close! Herta might have a whole aneurysm wanting to learn anything about us.

Screwllum and Ruan Mei would try to stop her but even they could not hide their curiosity about the oldest Aeon.

The Stellaron Hunters are surprised by our appearance as it was not written or foretold in Elio's script. Kafka is amused by the outcome, also a bit delighted to know that the Aeon (or Reader) was watching over them.

Going to Jarilo-IV! Surprise, surprise! Theres someone in Belobog who is a [Freedom-willed Sworn]! who is it? it can be whoever you might think it is!

The Jarilo-IV gang would be shocked to know that an Aeon was traveling alongside the Astral Express and was currently watching over them.

Some of them would be shy and awkward for knowing that, especially Bronya and Gepard. Some would be apprehensive, like Seele and Svarog. And some would be delighted! Aka, Sampo, Serval and Luka! Even Clara and Hook are happy to have us here.

Next station, the Xianzhou Luofu! right from the start, every kind of words gets out when they find out that the Aeon of Mortality is with the Astral Express. Xianzhou Luofu are skeptical of us, since they do not know of our standing, especially when it comes to the Plague Author (Yaoshi.)

not to mention OC/Reader is the Aeon of Mortality and little is known about us so they might think that our path is aligned with Yaoshi. (which doesnt, honestly.)

Jing Yuan would be suspicious of us but he would hide it well, Fu Xuan would be discontent since the future she saw did not include us, Yanqing have his own opinion but he'd follow Jing Yuan's belief, Sushang would be fascinated and Luocha would be surprised at our reveal.

Tingyun (or Phantylia) would be intrigued at our sudden appearance, Yukong is the same as Jing Yuan (just that she doesn't hide it) and Qingque wouldn't really care.

but once the Xianzhou Luofu quest is over and the gang understands that OC/Reader is not aligned with Yaoshi, they start warming up to us! while Xianzhou Luofu is devoted to Lan the Hunt in their pursue to eradicate Yaoshi, they wouldn't oppose the help of the oldest Aeon!

also, our relationship with some of the Aeons? Aeon OC/Reader constantly gives Qlipoth headaches and they would get worried about us since we do all kinds of shits ehehe.

Aeon OC/Reader constantly annoys Lan (affectionately) and Nanook whenever they get the chance.

OC/Reader are besties with Xipe (goes on a date all the time) and IX (bcs its hilarious). Likes to go sightseeing with Fuli and constantly argue with Aha lmao.

p.s. im hesitant to include the notion of 'Reader' as im not used to using that title but i think most people are more comfortable with that. i, however, will not use Y/N.

–

#just a little something #hsr brain rot bcs yes #sagau #sahsrau #self aware genshin #hsr aeons #honkai star rail #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin sagau #honkai

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pumpkin-patch-cat · 4 months

Text

⸸ Savior ⸸

Satan x Fem! Reader (female presenting)

🔞 NSFW. Minors DNI.🔞

Warnings: rough penetration, semi-conciousness, language

AN: Just a little brainrot I've had cookin' in my head and decided to share with the class. As per usual, please pardon any grammatical errors.

That familiar pain. The burning ache.

‘Not again’

You look to your side toward Satan in desperation as your stride slows, your lungs yearning to take unimpeded breaths of air but each time you breath in, it's as if you're inhaling needles and foreign ozone.

“S-satan..” You croak, hastily seeking his attention by reaching for his sleeve, but the attentive king had already noticed. With no Sitri and Ppyong present, the king couldn't be happier. But not so much knowing this phenomenon plagues you and causes you pain. Pain not inflicted by his own hands, that is.

“Your room. Now” He commands with a knowing smile.

He grabs your hand, you shut your eyes, desperately trying to conjure up the familiar space, but alas, your thoughts are repeatedly interrupted by panic. You simply can not take in a good enough breath to maintain your train of thought.

“Y/n, hurry” Satan's stern voice presses. He grips your shoulders, noting the tears pricking your eyes when you open them in panic once again.

“c-can’t” you inhale as sharply as you can to gather any air that would make it through.

You claw at your throat with one hand while holding his forearm with the other in a silent cry for help.

“Shit” Satan frowns, then scans the area quickly. Most buildings are dilapidated and have fallen to ruin. ‘Damn angels’ he thinks, dragging you further down the deserted street in hopes of finding a space untouched by violence. If he had it his way, he'd fuck you where you stood, but that was reckless.

You continue to take in short puffs of air, wheezing now, nearly losing your footing.

Satan steadies you with a protective grip on your forearm, and when you both come to a stop near a darkened alley, he makes an executive decision.

“Fuck it”

It'll have to do.

It's dark and dank. Musty with the smell of dry rotted wood and moldy, wet brick. A stark contrast to the evening's inviting and dusky setting sun outside of the alley. Satan drags you in deeper, avoiding a few leaky pipes, debris, and puddles, continuously on alert to be sure no angels are on your heels.

Once the man is satisfied with a spot closest to a dead-end, the king turns and graces you with one of his signature kisses without hesitation. In the back of his mind, he's unsure if the transfer of energy will work without the proper head space, but right now there's no time to hypothesize.

His kiss deepens when a pained whimper escapes your lips.

He needs to hurry, less he lose his favorite human.

Through your dazed expression you feel the cold chill and rough surface of something hard pressed to your back.

“I've got you…” He murmurs against your lips and presses you closer against the wall, quickly reaching down to undo and slip your bottoms from your hips, the tell tale sound of a belt buckle and zipper of his jumpsuit follows after. Fabric now left to pool at both your feet.

Even in dire times, his human was still beautiful.

With his boxers at his hips, the king hoists you up by the ass, pressing against you, his dick now free and already impossibly hard knowing your most precious space is currently his for the taking.

Using the wall to keep you sandwiched against his broad chest, Satan pistons your pussy without warm-up or warning; relishing in the tight squeeze and slowly moistening flesh fighting to adjust to the intrusion. He'll apologize later…maybe.

“Argh!” A strangled cry escapes your throat despite the innate lack of air, to which a hand comes down over your mouth to quickly muffle the sounds, forcing you to attempt harsh breaths through your nose.

“Easy, little lamb. You don't want those creatures to interrupt our fun, do you?” he offers quietly.

The only response he receives comes in the form of whimpers each time he re-enters, those red eyes keeping you locked in a dazed trance.

The demon thrusts harshly upward, forgoing a lazy pace and opting for one that's sure to leave your insides bruised. His large hand grips your ass, while his other moves from your mouth to hold your thigh, guiding you up and down.

While the blooming pleasure feels incredible, it's nearly drowned out by your lack of air supply. The energy isn't being absorbed fast enough and your vision starts to go dim. You claw at Satan's shoulder, breaking skin in an attempt to stay grounded and push through the fog, but the tightness in your chest is nearly unbearable.

“Stay with me, y/n. Fuck…you feel so good…That's right, abuse my flesh. Use me!” Satan muses through clenched teeth and pushes in deeper, digging his nails into the soft fat of your ass.

Your body feels like jello. You feel as though you're underwater. Your eyes begin to roll, practically a limp, play-thing in the demon's arms, and it only spurs him on.

The demon shifts his hips in a way that manages to prod against a more sensitive spot deep within your pussy, pushing out another strangled cry from your near empty lungs. His lips connect with yours again to swallow the sound.

“Look at my little human. At the presepist of death, yet drunk off the delicious burn of pleasure…” he coos near your jaw as it goes slack in a silent scream. Your head weightlessly pulls to the side just a bit, only to be yanked back upright abruptly by the chin.

“Look at me, y/n. Hey…HEY. Focus” he taps your cheek a bit rougher than intended, but it brings your fucked out, panicked eyes back to his face.

God, you were gorgeous.

Terror and bliss playing tug of war with your features, and his heart. Fervent groans of both pain and ecstacy continuously escaping your throat. He wished he could take a picture. To freeze the expression on your face in time.

To show you…to tease you…

To piss you off.

The thought of your rage upon seeing yourself in such a vulnerable state of disarray had the demon's eyes crossing slightly, tongue lapping out and dripping with saliva into the space between your bodies. His dick engorged further as he envisioned the twisted, raw anger in your words as you scolded him for his behavior.

A bit of liquid dripped down the side of his face and over his cheek. He licked it away greedily when it reached his lips; the taste salty and familiar - his horns were leaking. He felt heavy against your walls, his balls clapped rhythmically against your ass cheeks to the beat of each relentless plunge within. You were so wet around him, for him, and it only increased the faster he moved. That's a good thing. It meant you were still alive. You were still his.

Despite your slowly deteriorating state, the king could feel the needy squeeze of your pussy keeping him locked deep inside - you were close.

“Just like that.” he breathes, brows creased in concentration.

The muscles of Satan's ass flexed and relaxed, forcing you upward in his grip.

The darkness that licked at the edges of your vision remained, but the familiar burn in your core was smoldering - growing.

“S-satan” you manage to croak again, barely above a whisper. You held on to the wefts of hair on his shoulders like anchors with what little strength you had, managing to catch the glimmer of two crimson, half lidded eyes boring into your face through the glaze clouding your vision.

“Cum for me, little lamb. Let me be your savior. Pray to me. Let me be your God” He grinned above you, face flushed red and wild.

The feeling was damn near torture. Being tugged back and forth between consciousness and a mental, black void that threatened to swallow you whole, but it did not extinguish the growing flame in your gut, nay, it pushed you further; a feeling akin to a taut rubber band.

Satan set a punishing rhythm then, the sound of wet flesh colliding together bounced off the walls around you both. His hips began to sputter, his thrusts slowed to harsh grinding where the tight curls of his pubic hair rubbed deliciously against your throbbing clit.

“S-satan…I..cum-ing!”

The moment the proverbial rubber band snapped was the moment an orgasm so forceful--so earth shattering--rocked through your arched body, and set your senses alight.

Your only warning from the demon was a drawn-out grunt that reverberated deep in his chest and his teeth coming down to latch onto your shoulder to muffle his own sounds.

A rush of hot warmth coats your insides simultaneously, and color bursts forth into your vision; air once again floods your lungs with the deepest of breaths.

In the few moments following, the only thing you remembered was a gentle hand resting on your cheek and the words 'sleep now' being uttered before your world went black.

⸸⸸⸸⸸

“You did so well. But now you need rest” The king had you dressed, as best as he could anyways, and in his arms bridal style heading for home.

Although the transfer worked and he managed to save you, it was hard to ignore the small sense of dread that bottomed out in his stomach seeing you in distress.

The further he walked, cradling your body against his, your breaths now even, he contemplated.

In the beginning, the possessiveness he felt for you had been brought on by territorial instincts nurtured by your connection to Solomon, but the longer he spent time with you, his idea of who you were had started to change.

You were interesting for many reasons, reasons he couldn't quite put his finger on, and both Ppyong and Sitri had taken a liking to you as well, though in a way that felt completely different from Solomon's time in hell.

Did that make him…happy? It's been a long time since he felt an ounce of happiness, depression was unkind like that. But you. Your presence had started to fan those flames. The thought brought a small smile to his face.

“What are you doing to me, y/n?” He asks quietly, sweeping his eyes over your relaxed, sleeping face. An inkling of warmth tingling in his chest.

Satan wasn't sure what was going on, but in that moment, he vowed to be there when you needed him. To stay by your side and protect you.

#*clings to Satan*#angy king is love #“I got chu boo” vibes #whb satan x reader #whb satan #whb #what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad?#fanfic #writing

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fatuismooches · 2 years

Note

I was wondering for poly harbingers (except Pulcinella cuz he's like my father figure) what would it be like if like the reader fell first but obviously since everyone of them r harbingers they're terrible at feelings and reader is always trying to get them to love them but after a while they just give up and leave snezhanya and that's when the grovelling starts? Sorry u can ignore this if u want <3

—

(not really a request it's more brainrot but I still wanted to send this hdjshdb) Imagine being a new recruit to the Fatui and end up becoming all of the harbingers favorite,,, like you're just a new cicin mage or agent and they all dote on you and can and will spoil you rotten,,,I just love the harbingers being soft gidigsigdsgi <3

♡ 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 ♡

synopsis: When you fell in love with the Harbingers, you already knew that they didn't do love, or feelings, or emotions. You knew that, but it still hurt when you kept trying your best to woo them, but to no avail. Thankfully, things turn around.

includes: all harbingers (except pulcinella) w/ gn! reader

notes: To both these anons, yes!! This is so cute! (I kinda combined two asks and sent them in as one myself. Also, this turned into my just spewing my thoughts around, so apologies if it's kinda messy.) I want them all to hug me. NOW!

Everyone joins the Fatui for different reasons. Some to become stronger, to get paid to support their families, some to faithfully serve the Tsaritsa, and some to climb the ranks. Your reason, however, had nothing to do with that. It might be stupid- no, actually it is dumb, but you joined simply because you thought all the Harbingers were handsome, gorgeous, beautiful, and everything else. (Minus Pulcinella, you daydreamed of him being your grandpa, telling you stories from long ago, and eating cookies you baked together.) Capitano? Even with the helmet, he still managed to woo you. La Signora? You admired her confidence and the long hair that flowed after her. Dottore? He’d probably kill you but you were determined. Arlecchino? Her permanent resting face was still attractive. You could go on about all the Harbingers… but the main point was that you made it your goal to gain all of their attention. (Your ambition probably rivaled Childe’s, and for the least sane reasons.)

You couldn’t bear the embarrassment of messing up in front of the Harbingers so you trained a long time before you joined the Fatui. You may not have a Vision, but you could still kick serious ass. You hoped that your skill would eventually catch the attention of at least one of the Harbingers. And what did you know - your hopes and efforts paid off. The day had come when all the new recruits would have their first training battles with each other. Everyone would be separated randomly into eleven groups with a Harbinger watching over each. Who would you get? You’d be fine with anyone really. You and the other recruits uniformly filed into the arena and there he was - Capitano. He was so well formed, dwarfing everyone else, and he was even more attractive up close, but also more intimidating up close. He didn’t notice you, of course, but nothing would stop you. You heard some relieved sighs from the others. Capitano was much more composed and didn’t have a bad temper like some of the other Harbingers. (We won’t mention names.)

Soon, you were paired with other random recruits to spar, and it was a cakewalk. You didn’t even need to use the wooden sword - you could easily trip them on their own feet by dodging their attacks. You could feel a lot of eyes on you due to all the wins you were effortlessly getting. Oh, and you could feel that especially intense gaze, belonging none other to the Harbinger. Oh, how giddy you were for him to talk to you. And he did! Not as quick as you hoped, but you were prepared to wait a long time. Since that day, the higher-ups ranking below the Harbingers saw you as someone reliable and assigned you more tasks than the average recruit, which led to your deeply desired meetings with the Harbingers.

The first Harbinger got to speak more than a couple of words first was Childe. He was always looking for a good fight, so when he heard of your abilities, he couldn’t help but seek you out and ask for a sparring match. You were ecstatic and accepted, and you lost, of course, but training with Childe had put you in a great mood. And furthermore, he complimented your abilities and urged you to keep training, so he could keep sparring with you. You could have cried tears of joy right there. Since then, the Eleventh Harbinger began to see you more and more.

As you climbed the ranks, people talked about you more and more. You didn’t care much for their attention, but you really hoped the Harbingers were hearing about you too. For some reason, you were assigned to a specific squad, and you were more running around helping each Harbinger’s division. (You didn’t complain though - you had the chance to familiarize yourself with each section.)

It had been a while since you joined, but you finally had it. You had the honor of delivering paperwork and reports directly to each Harbinger. You could finally see them up close. Scaramouche, who sneered and rolled his eyes at you for a while, but grew curious when you’d keep coming back with a smile on your face. Arlecchino who gave you the same cold look every day but was surprised to see you play with the orphans. Childe who waved you over and called you comrade. Capitano and Pierro who nodded at you politely and went back to their work. Dottore who did his usual crazy and maniacal things but grew interested when you weren’t that phased. Columbina who was usually asleep or singing to herself but began conversing with you after many meetings. La Signora who grew fond of you after all the other recruits pushed you to deliver any news to her because they were too scared. Pantalone who teases you with his velvety voice and kept offering you a job as his personal secretary. Sandrone who doesn’t say much but lets you look at her robots since you’re the only one who's not scared. And Pulcinella… the one who is being your father figure and dropping some fun facts about the other Harbingers without their knowledge.

You had worked your way up to the point that they could remember your name and face, which was amazing considering how many recruits there are. With this, you began to try and actually talk to them more. Pretty much all the recruits were terrified of saying anything more than “Yes, Lord Harbinger” to them so to hear you actually voice your thoughts was a surprise, but not an unpleasant one. If it were anyone else, they’d be punished by now, but you were different, for some reason. The more friendly ones would sometimes invite you to their office during their breaks. Another would forcibly drag you from whatever you were doing to follow him around (totally not Scara.) Some would lock you up in their labs with them and order you to help them with their experiments. And sometimes, you’d find gifts in your living quarters. Soon enough, every time you appeared, you were at the side of a Harbinger. The more you were in their presence, the more and more you loved them. You had garnered that all of them had some terrible backstory and all you really wanted to do was share your feelings and make them feel warm inside.

The only thing was, no matter how hard you tried to drop any hints, or get them to engage in conversations other than work, was fruitless. Even when you got promoted to Harbinger status, your main job was to assist others in their work. So you did, but along with basic things that they forgot to do. Simple meals, each catered to their liking, coffee or tea, made how they like it best, frequently sat on their desk, made by you. That huge stack of documents? Already signed off by you. Little trinkets you thought they’d like were given. But they still didn’t catch on to how much you liked them?! You were literally doing everything besides kissing them at this point. It was starting to give you a headache.

You kind of felt stupid and sad, to put this much time and effort into this plan, only for the rest of the Harbingers to treat you mostly as their colleague. But this was incredibly stupid in the first place so you couldn’t really blame anyone. You knew they were horrible with feelings, but… damn, it was really bad. And now you were a damn Harbinger so you couldn’t exactly leave the organization. Since you were a new Harbinger, you weren’t required to leave the nation for some time, but you needed some time alone, so you directly applied to the Tsaritsa to send you out to a foreign nation for some mission. Little did you know about the switch-up that was about to happen.

For once, the Harbingers were grateful for Scaramouche’s confrontational nature. After hearing news of your possible departure from Snezhnaya, all the Harbingers were suddenly wide awake and with the same question - Why are you leaving, and why do they feel so irritated at the loss of your presence? Thankfully, they could leave the first question up to the Sixth Harbinger while they listened on from far away.

A sudden call of your name and hard, impatient footsteps behind you stopped you in your tracks. Anyone in the Fatui could easily recognize those ones. You turned around and saw a very peeved Scaramouche. Before you could greet him, he crossed his arms and spoke.

“Why are you leaving?”

“What do you mean?”

He scowled, “Why are you leaving this nation? There is no reason for you to go.” You didn’t know the news would spread so fast, and that he of all people would be the first to say something.

“I’ve just decided I need more real experience to better complete my duties,” you lied. Hell, you’d stay here forever if you could but it just hurt to see the Harbinger’s faces every day and not have your relationships progress.

“What about your duties here? You’re supposed to help us.” To be honest, Scaramouche could care less about duties and whatnot, he just had this nagging, irritating feeling of loneliness that kept popping up when he thought of you leaving for months on end.

“Well, there’s a hundred other recruits you can ask for help. From what I can remember, last time you got mad at me because your coffee wasn’t bitter enough,” you frowned back. “Everyone’s survived without me before, I think you can survive without me again.” You didn’t mean to add that much sass but you just left before the situation escalated.

Scaramouche and the other hidden Harbingers watched you leave. They didn’t mean to come off that way… they just have shitty communication skills.

I have to throw this in but- Grandpa Pulcinella who scolds the hell out of the other Harbingers for their denseness and communication. Has to actually explain to them that you’re relatively normal compared to them, so you’re expecting normal interactions in return. And that they have to start doing better before you ditch their asses. So now, the Harbingers are very out of characteristically groveling to silently convince you to stay.

Scaramouche has to physically bite down on his tongue to prevent any accidental snarkiness from coming out. It’s not that he wants to be that mean, it’s just his natural reflex to say something like that after every sentence. Orders you to accompany him to places but he just walks around randomly while you ask where exactly you’re going. Allows himself to become softer in your presence because he doesn’t want to lose you. He has been betrayed enough times, he doesn’t want to see you go.

Capitano makes an effort to frequently invite you to his office so he can just listen to you talk. Also thanks you a lot for everything. He’s very unsure about how to treat you in the best way possible. So he just listens to you talk and secretly takes notes instead of doing paperwork. Also is scared to initiate any physical contact because he’s afraid of breaking you somehow, is jealous of the other Harbingers for this reason. Also opens doors for you, I just see him as a gentleman. Doesn’t know how to tell you not to leave him, so he just comments on how quiet his office will be without you.

La Signora who invites you to go shopping with you many times. Spoils you with the best clothing, cologne/perfume, hair products, and much more. She did have a previous lover so she at least knows about love, she was just hesitant and scared because of how her last relationship ended. But she’s the one whose not afraid to touch you - will curl a lock of hair of yours around her finger and hum, or place her hands on your shoulders, silently conveying that she’d rather have you here, safe in her arms, than outside.

Dottore doesn’t know how to show genuine affection like a regular person so his idea of making you stay is appointing you as his personal assistant who gets special access to his lab, notes, and answers to any questions you want. To an average person, it seems useless, but when the genius mad scientist bestows upon you this, you better at least show your thanks. (It’s so funny to see how he thinks he’s doing good, and you’re just like hmm yea such an interesting bloody fact!) Subtly drops the fact that he can’t do his experiments without your help anymore, which would lead to problems within the Fatui, so you simply must stay.

Childe continues to spar with you, only this time he physically shows you the right form, his strong arms positioned on you. Will painfully lament about how he’ll miss these “little sparring dates.” Cooks your favorite food and coughs about how you won’t get authentic Snezhnaya cuisine anywhere else. Also brings you to his family so Teucer and the other siblings can cry to you about how much they’ll miss you.

Arlecchino is still quiet and cold as usual but makes a much bigger effort to talk more than normal. She lets herself smile now when you’re around inside of restricting it. Is secretly scared of you dying in a foreign land. Also comments about how the kids always look forward to your storytelling and visit.

Sandrone doesn’t know what to tell you in person so she makes cute little robots of your favorite animals that deliver messages to you. She takes inspiration from the notes you leave her and other Harbingers - “Make sure to eat and drink some water <3” or “Please don’t stay up until three AM doing paperwork or experimenting” Sometimes, you write “And Dottore, I don’t want to be woken up by your maniacal laughter that early in the morning. Go to sleep, please. That includes all of you.” The most important note Sandrone sends is “Don’t go.”

Pantalone just spoils you endlessly. Gifts upon gifts upon an immense sum of Mora being deposited into your account. Your whole closet is full of clothes despite the only thing you wear is literally your Harbinger clothes and a big fluffy coat. The one who calls you into his office not even to do any work, but to just to flirt with you, show you around his huge mansion, get your opinions and interests so he knows what to buy for you later on. It’s awfully lonely around here when he doesn’t have anyone to spoil, he complains.

Pierro is the one whose old and wise, yet he still has problems dealing with these feelings he always keeps sealed you. He is the Harbinger who you probably see the least, yet you always make an effort to scurry up to him and inquire about his day, because he apparently always looks tired. Pierro doesn’t say much but enjoys these sparks of brightness into his dark life. Gives you advice about anything, your troubles may seem mundane compared to his but he wants you to be stress free. He doesn’t want to intrude on your Harbinger duties, but he really will miss you bouncing around headquarters.

Columbina takes you to visit the most beautiful but unknown places in Snezhnaya, and often falls asleep on you there (you can’t say no to her.) Hums that she’ll be sad to not have anyone as her personal pillow anymore.

You’re pretty much overwhelmed by all this positive attention - you finally did it! And you deliver the news they’ve all been anxiously awaiting: you won’t leave your snowy nation anymore. And that you also have something important to tell them.

At this point, all the Harbingers know that each other has taking a strong liking to you, and all of them are quite literally, ready to fight for your love. That is, until you explain how you love all of them and want to cherish all of them equally. None of them are quite pleased with the arrangement, but they do see how happy you are with each of them, so they won’t say anything. Some of the Harbingers probably grow a bit closer to each other, just by talking about you.

“You know, when we went to Liyue together, we took a lot of pictures together. I’ve even got one of them cuddling their pillow.”

Cue nine other heads snapping in the other direction.

“You brat, don’t hog it to yourself. Give it to me.”

“Indeed, I want a copy as well.”

“I do too, for research purposes.”

“Oh, they look so cute like that!”

After everything is established and such, I can see Scaramouche who bickers with the other Harbingers, especially the lower ranking ones over your time and attention. All of them are possessive but Scaramouche hates almost everyone and has no problem voicing his biting thoughts aloud, while other Harbingers prefer to be more professional and not cause a scene. Surprisingly enough, he gets along a little bit better with Childe (if you count calling him various curses and electrocuting him every five seconds better). Even still, Scara would much rather prefer to keep you to himself, and you do too unless you want him to be scowling at another Harbinger the whole time. And you often spend time with Childe alone too, just because he’s not very close with the others. He has beef with all the women Harbingers, and he’s actually a lot more… sane than the other males, or they’re too high ranking for him to talk to. If anything, he’d love to spend time with you and Capitano just so he can admire both of you and your strength. (It’s more of a pipe dream, but if you manage to make it happen, he’ll be ecstatic.) Hell, you might even be spending time with Childe and grandpa Pulcinella because he thinks of you as his kids, lol. He gives Childe great advice on how he wooed others back in the day. Also, Childe who is arguably the sanest and romantic and is actually knowledgable about this stuff helps the other Harbingers on how to treat you. (Is my bias showing? Sorry.)

Arlecchino and Columbina who like to spend time with you together. Columbina likes to use you two as a pillow as she falls asleep, while you tell both of them about your day. Both of them are the quiet types so they go quite splendidly together with you. La Signora and Sandrone also join sometimes for sleepovers and self-care days (I like to think all the female Harbingers are secretly close with each other and respect each other a bunch <3.) They all would pamper you, all different in the areas they excel in. Columbina and Signora take on your hair, Sandrone has her robots take care of your nails, and Arlecchino helps you with anything else really (she’s at a loss with this kind of stuff so the others teach her.) They’re probably the most harmonic group here, and they don’t mind sharing you, but they tend to scoff at the other men when they’re near you. Also expect lots and LOTS of kisses all over your body with them <3. They all got to destress with you after all these Harbinger duties. Oh, and also expect tea parties with them!

Dottore who also often spends time with you alone because the other harbingers don’t like him very much due to his… you know. If anything, Pantalone or Sandrone usually join in him spending time with you. The former isn’t too scared of Dottore because he provides funding, the latter respects Dottore for his robotic knowledge and tends to actually observe his experiments sometimes. Dottore loses patience with Pantalone more quickly, due to his charming and even flirtatious nature when he’s around you. Dotty likes Sandrone a bit more due to her more subdued and quiet nature. Dottore who will drone on about the most sciency things in order to get anyone else to leave so he can be alone with you.

Capitano and Pierro who like to share you too, are both big, tall, and initially awkward men. (I like to think both of them are on good terms with each other.) Neither of them are sure of how to treat sweet, little you. But they are both so infatuated with you that they just let you take the lead for now. The two of them are more on the quiet, gentle giant (and also very much overworked) so they enjoy the calm and peaceful activities. (I don’t know why, but I imagine picnics with the two of them, where Capitano is taking up half of the blanket and sitting with his legs to his chest.)

All of your lovers fight over who gets to take you with them on their mission outside Snezhnaya. (They’re coming with me to Inazuma… no, they should come to Liyue with me… actually, they’re staying in Snezhnaya with me.) Most of them are not very fond of each other, but they can come together just a bit, if it’s for you. Also, all the Harbingers wonder if they’re truly worthy of you. They have all this blood and chaos on their hands but you still allow them to hold you and touch you. None of them voice this out loud but they know every one of them thinks the same thing. (Extra - the Tsaritsa who is amused and curious at how you managed to get all her devoted Harbingers wrapped around your finger so quickly. Pulcinella who is initially shocked at the relationship… “youngsters these days” but grows to accept it. Fatui recruits who get whiplash from seeing their cold and stoic Harbingers become nicer in your presence.)

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #fatui x reader #dottore x reader #pantalone x reader #scaramouche x reader #pierro x reader #capitano x reader #childe x reader #columbina x reader #la signora x reader #arlecchino x reader #sandrone x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui harbingers

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sad-leon · 1 year

Text

Mmmmm angsty leo brainrot go brrr

Context:

Draxum took Leo during one of the fam's first adventures on the surface (8ish). He raised Leo as a warrior, training him with the portal sword. When he was 13, Leo felt confident enough to fight back and managed to get himself away from Draxum.

In his time with Draxum, Leo woundn't stop talking, complaining, joking, or pestering until Draxum snapped and nearly strangled him. He can still talk, but he chooses not to. He was trained (read:abused) constantly. He sustained plenty of leg injuries, leading to constant pain that braces barely help. On bad days, he can't walk at all. Most days, he uses his sword as a crutch.

The brothers meet April soon after Leo was taken. Donnie's the first to tell her about it as he's constantly looking for any signs of his twin. When they drop into the Hidden City, and end up in Draxum's lab, the Raph and Donnie go feral at the sight of the man that kidnapped their brother (they get even angrier when Draxum says Leo had run away. They don't believe him). April drags Mikey to the weapons room and grabs the weapons that seem to fit the others' fighting styles the best. April nabs the crystal in hopes it could help Donnie.

The brothers + April and Mayhem retreat when the lab is about to explode. They immediatly tell Splinter of Draxum's location. Splinter is too focused and the possibility of finding his baby blue, that he doesn't ridicule them too much for going down to the Hidden City.

Splinter and Donnie do as much research as possible to find out what Draxum could have done with Leo. It's only a day before the fam planned to go raid Draxum's destroyed lab when Donnie catches a suspicious figure portalling across the city, fighting off the mutants created by the Ooze-squitos. Donnie decides to go off on his own, having a gut feeling that the mystery person in important. Raph and Mikey follow close behind him.

For a year, Leo is out on his own. He stays away from the sewers, scared to face his family again. He hates he's become under Draxum (he does have innocent blood on his hands). He decides that until he can redeem himself, he'll stay hidden. When mutants start popping up in town, Leo is scared that Draxum had begun his plan to destroy the human race. Leo fights them and becomes sloppy at hiding himself.

He's nearly asleep in his hideout one night when he hears someone approach. He immediatly gets ready to fight until he freezes when he meets Donnie's eyes.

He panics and tries to portal away, but the panic disrupts his abilities and he ends up portaling directly into Raph and Mikey.

Do y'all want more of this au? I originally called it my villain Leo au, but I think Lonely Leo fits better..

#lonelyleoau #rottmnt #rottmnt leo #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise leonardo #angst #rottmnt au #abuse #abuse mention #baron draxum #rottmnt draxum #sad•leonart

1K notes · View notes

chronically-ghosted · 1 month

Text

stay sexy and don’t get murdered

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 6K

summary: Trapped behind a secret wall to hide from a murderer, the close proximity forces you and Dieter to confront feelings you rather bury underneath your case to prove your favorite neighbor didn’t commit suicide.

(This is the Only Murders in the Building smut fic in the chaotic stylings of Dieter Bravo.)

warnings: brief moments of tv-appropiate terror, arguing, mentions of suicide, mentions of death/murder, but more importantly: smut (like half of this is smut), oral (f!receiving), dieter’s bare ass nearly catching on fire, too many feelings for something that started as a crack fic idea

a/n: this is my submission for the Dieter Brainrot Club server challenge! Thank you so much to @sp00kymulderrr for putting this together!

🤍AO3 Link

🤍Dieter Bravo Masterlist

🤍Masterlist

On the other side of the false door, the floor creaks. Fear arches up the back of your spine, your fingers digging into your thighs, your heart pounding somewhere near your ears. The threads of light that struggle through the nearly invisible cracks fade and emerge as heavy boots cross back and forth over the wooden floor. A thousand panicked thoughts pierce one after the other –

Did you shut the door all the way?

Could the intruder see the seams in the wall?

What were they waiting for?

And then, like a red, bright flare barreling through your brain: what the fuck were they after in Dieter’s apartment?

Another step closer to the false door and dread smothers every thought in your head, until you can hear the thundering of your own heart, the quick draw of your breath that is obviously so loud, the intruder has to hear it.

Another bootfall, another creak, less light – he’s coming right for you you’re drawing him in – you inhale sharply, fear beating your heart against your breast bone the closer and closer the shadow comes – all the light is gone – and –

His hand slips over your mouth and draws you against his chest. The chill of the hidden crawl space dissipates against his warm skin, his solid forearm like a protective barrier over your chest, his fingers suddenly around your wrist as if to catch you. Your body must think it's falling because your hands grip him around the forearm, pulling him even tighter, his warmth a balm to the sinking cold of fear.

Shhh . . .

Maybe he says it or maybe you just hear it in your head, his lips against your ear, not a gust of air between your bodies, his own breathing so faint you vaguely think he might be holding his breath. The heady scent of his muted cologne – days old at this point – mixed with the zing of something citrus-y has your head fogging up faster, fear dripping away like melting ice. You want to keep your eyes trained on the cracks of light, keep your muscles tense and ready for a fight when that door inevitably opens – but you swallow against his fingers when you realize that underlying smell of spice coming from him is the smell of Takis sticks and how much it turns you the fuck on.

In the silence, the footfalls stop. The pressure and overpowering heat at your back makes sweat peak at your hairline, heartbeat at a low thrum. You’re entirely sure both of you have stopped breathing, just waiting, hoping –

You squeeze your eyes shut –

And then the boots turn away. Heavy, lurking, but in the opposite direction. The invader paces up and down the length of the apartment, never coming near the secret door again. And then, as quickly as he came, the front door opens and shuts.

There is quiet, a ringing silence.

“Oh thank fuck,” Dieter gasps out. He lets you go, giving you space again, and you are instantly cold. He drops his hands to his navy sweatpants over his knees, head dropping down against his chest. “Holy shit I thought we were gonna die.”

Your lips are still warm from his hand so as if to give it back because you don’t want anything from him, you pout them out.

“If you didn’t fight with me about hiding, we would have had more time. Why are you physically incapable of listening to me?”

You watch sweat roll down his temples and you realize your back is also damp. Your knees quake as the adrenaline subsides. The droplet from his hair continues down his throat, catching on his collarbone between the two folded edges of pink-and-black see-through kimono he wore like it was a totally normal thing. Of course this is his painting outfit.

If Dieter catches you oogling, he doesn’t say anything. Instead he straightens up and rubs his eye with the back of his wrist, still a bit out of breath.

“You know, when someone with tits like yours pushes me into a dark closet, I’m not really one to argue, but I think I should get some credit for not calling the cops on the first person who broke into my apartment today. What the fuck were you doing in there?”

You’re not quite sure what makes you flush harder: that he caught you doing something highly illegal or that he thinks your tits are dark-closet worthy.

“Your apartment is one of the few original rooms built as part of the Rhododendron,” you answer defensively, arms crossed. “And since these passageways never showed up on any later building plans, I figured no one knew they were here.”

Dieter frowns as he wipes the back of his neck with his palm and your eyes definitely don’t track it.

“You’re saying there have been people living in my walls, watching me jerk off and I never knew?” His dumbstruck look melts into one of lewd satisfaction. “Nice.”

No, see, this was why nothing was ever going to ever happen between you two.

“God, Dieter, you’re disgusting.” You shove past him and lean into the door. “People aren’t living down here. Didn’t you hear what I said? Hardly anyone knows about this at all – and they aren’t waiting around – to watch – you come –,”

Three hard pushes and the door remains firmly shut. What the fuck? Your fingers skim the seams, looking for a latch or a handle, something.

“You can yell at me once we get back inside.” He shudders and wraps his arms around his chest. “I’m freezing my nips off in here.”

“I’m trying, Dieter, but it won’t open –,” you push harder, using even more force than you did to open it on the other side. “It’s stuck.”

“Move, I’ll do it –,”

“Fuck you, Dieter, I got it.”

“We’d be outta here by now if you did.”

“Just help me–,”

“Ugh – fine – on the count of three – one –,”

“Two –,”

“Three!”

Nothing. He slumps to the floor, his bare feet sprawled out in front of him.

“For this much grunting and sweat,” he pants, “we should definitely be fucking.”

You flick his ear, glaring at him, the heat of exertion sparking up to your cheeks at his words. He scowls up at you and claps a big hand over his ear as if to protect it from further assault.

With a huff, you take out your phone and slide on the flashlight. As suspected, the crawlspace continues on, long into the dark.

“C’mon, there has to be a way out somehow.”

“You’re not serious,” he snaps from behind you. “Even I know in an emergency situation you have to stay put and wait for the authorities.”

“Oh, you mean the authorities that don’t know we’re here and probably will never know, with my –,” you check your phone for emphasis, “zero bars!”

His hands fly to his pant pockets and groans. “Fuck, I don’t have mine.”

You step back, hinging at the waist in a low bow. “Then lead the way.”

“Fuck, this is not how I wanted to spend my night.” He groans again and shoves the heel of his palms into his eyes before crawling to his feet. He wraps the air-thin kimono around his torso and fixes you with a solid glare. “Fine, but I’m charging you for every toe I lose to hypothermia.”

The hallways grow colder and darker the further you go, the air thickening with dust. You walk longer and longer as the passageway narrows until his shoulder bumps yours and eventually he has to follow an inch behind you to get through. But he’s not close enough to be warm.

“Can’t believe my last fucking meal was Froot Loops,” Dieter announces to the darkness after what feels like you’ve been walking for hours. You don’t need to see his face to know he’s scowling. “Fucking nasty.”

Your jaw aches from how tightly you grind your teeth together.

“If it was so nasty, then why did you eat it?”

“I couldn’t UberEats Captain Crunch,” he sniffs and you realize how cold your own nose is. “There’s a blizzard going on outside, didn’t you hear? Or were you too busy playing Nancy Drew, Baby’s First Break in?”

“I didn’t think you’d be home so early. You usually stop painting around eight, not 6:30.”

“And just what were you hoping to find?” The casual sarcasm has been leached from his voice and genuine anger crackles over your shoulder. “I told you Mags gave me that key to her apartment of her own free will –,”

“– which you just conveniently forgot to mention–,”

“– she gave it to me months ago and, so, yeah, sue me for forgetting!” You want to bite back with something, something to make the painful ache in your chest when you found out he had been lying to you go away. Something to scrape the taste of shame and disappointment off your tongue. But you know everything you’d throw at him would be unfair and childish. You stew so long in a bottle of your own rage and hurt that you don’t realize the silence has stretched on far too long.

When Dieter speaks again, he’s several steps behind you. You shine the flashlight on him and he barely flinches. You can see his broad shoulders shivering and you do think his feet look worryingly pink.

“The last time I saw Mags was just before a six month shoot. She gave me that key and told her to surprise her when I came back.” His teeth are chattering but he won’t look up at you. “I meant to call her, check in, while I was gone, but I just . . .” He shakes his head, eyes tightly shut. “I got back into town an hour after they found her body . . . which means I didn’t kill her, for the record. You can check my ticket.”

Your mouth drops open, shame spreading out like an electric shock across your skin. “Dieter, I never thought that you . . .”

His glare levels you and you wonder what his face looked like after you slammed the door behind you that night you found the key. You had spent two weeks afterwards wandering the halls looking for secret tunnels to peel the image of his face just before you left in a rush from the walls of your brain. What had he done in all that time apart?

“Whatever. Let’s just go. I think you already owe me a thousand bucks.”

He tries to move forward but you block him, standing in the middle of the hallway. The light of your phone hits him from underneath and his jawline plays shadows on his chest.

“I didn’t leave because I thought you killed her, Dieter. You lied to me. I’ve been running in fucking circles over this thing for weeks and all this time you kept something from me! It felt like you were . . .”

“What?”

The heat of your anger rolls up to the back of your neck. “It . . . i-it felt like you were manipulating me. Play detective with the little idiot in 2B because you’re bored and I was . . . available. Like what we were doing, it didn’t matter to you.”

Dieter’s teeth clench on the right side of his jaw. “Of course it matters to me. Mags was the only one in this entire building who treated me like a person and not a fucking spectacle. She was important to me and I know she didn’t kill herself. I wanna get the fucker who did it as much as you do.”

“But you kissed me!” You feel the cold in the air drop down into your lungs so fast your chest aches. “You kissed me, Dieter, and then I found the key on accident – like you were hiding it from me – a-and I heard the message Anika left on your voicemail. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, but . . .” You squeeze your eyes shut, the cold from your lungs seeping into your bones. It’s nearly hard to breathe. “You and I are very different people, Dieter, and there’s not a world I can imagine you want anything to do with me, or Mags. I thought you were just . . . playing with me.”

The light of the phone hovers between you and him. Your toes are starting to ache from the ice-cold concrete and you briefly consider taking off your shoes and giving him your socks because that’s the instinct he draws from you. Despite how you fought it, how you clawed and scratched, you want Dieter Bravo to be okay, to be happy. But you can’t prostrate yourself on the altar of someone who wouldn’t do the same for you.

Not again.

“Dieter, please say something.” You can see his pant leg tremble in the blue light. “I’m sorry I–,”

“Did you ever think I like the fact that you’re different from me? From everything that my world means? That everything that makes you, you is amazing and gorgeous and I’m so fucking drawn to it, I lose sleep at night.” His voice is deep, hulking in a way that fills up the dark corridor until you feel like you are being smothered. But it’s not angry, not aggressive. If anything, his voice is thick with regret. “Anika was . . . a mistake. She knows that now. She’s seen it. So I can’t blame you for r-running the way you did, but . . . I’m not lying to you. Not about Mags, or how I feel, or anything else. I never have and I never will. You got that?”

Swallowing the grisly, meaty knot in your throat that could be mistaken for your emaciated heart, you nod. You are suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to fall to your knees and confess your own sordid past that made you the way that you are because he needs to know you’re NOT amazing or gorgeous or anything resembling someone worth losing sleep over.

He needs to know he should run from you

“I’m starting to lose feeling in my toes, seriously. We need to get out of here.”

He stands there staring, the dark shadows abandoned by the light of your phone hiding whatever is in his eyes. And then you realize he’s waiting for you to move. Your knees and elbows locked from the cold and the weight of his confession, you stiffly turn around, heading into the darkness without looking back.

About an hour later, Dieter bursts through his apartment again with a cry of relief and immediately bolts for the fireplace. He twiddles with the switch a second before a massive fire belches from behind the sleek black grate. With another deep groan, he drops in front of the fire and sticks his hands centimeters from the metal fence. He wiggles his toes and props them up on the marble lip. The stiffness recedes, the pink fading, and he glances over his shoulder.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Either come in and shut the door . . . or leave.”

Your fingers wrap around the edge of the black door. You are cold. Your fingers are cold. The hole in your heart that’s been growing there long before you met Dieter . . . makes you step through the threshold and shut the door behind you.

Dieter wiggles his toes against the marble lip, his elbows over his knees, his eyes the color of earth in autumn. He neither tenses or relaxes when you sit down next to him, extending your own extremities closer to the fire.

The color has returned to his lips and you can’t find anything else in the room to look at.

“I’d offer you a drink,” he murmurs to the flames, “but I still can’t feel my feet.”

I lose sleep at night.

“Dieter, look, I’m . . .”

His thick fingers wrap around the bone of his wrist and he shakes his head. “Don’t. You don’t have to say anything. Don’t . . . don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“Thank you, Dieter.” You glance at him. The fire crackles in his eyes, wide in disbelief, fingers tangled together. “I mean that. I wouldn’t have gotten as far as I have without you.”

He chuckles after a pause. “That’s not what you said when I broke into the super’s storage closet for you.”

“You’re going to get us arrested,” you roll your eyes and bump your shoulder into his. With a grin that is innocent and hopeful and full of bright fire from behind the grate, his gaze drops to the plush of your mouth, the wet crease where your tongue soothes dry skin, and his bottom lip curls between his teeth.

“Oh,” he murmurs, “I’ve always liked the idea of you in handcuffs.”

As though his gaze has a solid presence, it licks fire down your throat, over the back of your neck, rocketing into your spine and swooping low into the peak of your thighs. It darts over your lips, your nose, your cheeks, your ears, dragging lightning in its wake.

It isn’t the first time you’re consumed by the thought of kissing Dieter Bravo and it certainly won’t be the last, but it’s the first time you are made so overwhelmingly helpless by it, the wind is knocked out of you for a second.

You wait too long to breathe, too long to tear your gaze away from his lips, too long to realize you’re leaning into him, until his broad hand redirects your forward motion up into his open mouth.

This is the first time you’ve ever kissed Dieter Bravo and dear fucking god, please don’t let it be the last.

His tongue lines your bottom lip, tasting, memorizing, marking that place that has you tilting in closer. Beneath your fingertips, the recluse beard scratches and burns and you take his jaw in both palms because you can’t wait to push it between your legs. His fingers wind into your hair and he’s leaning over you, consuming you like only your dreams of this kiss had before.

All it takes is one soft sigh, one final moan of relief, your fingers curling around the flimsy kimono, and Dieter pins you to the floor in a single fluid motion. His knee digs into your thigh, trapping your legs apart, to make room for himself in the cradle of your hips, pressing himself into you and pushing air from your lungs. You can feel him hard, the tip of his cock warm against you, and that simple fact – the fact he wants you so badly – has you slotting an arm around the back of his neck, tugging him in tighter, closer, because not even sex would bring him deeper inside you. With a grunt, Dieter’s hand leaves your cheek, running hotly down your neck, the curve of your shoulder, and into the dip of your hip. He squeezes and you whine against his teeth. He rucks his leg up under your thigh, squeezes you again, rougher, more intentional, and you tug your head back, gasping for breath, lungs on fire and mind whirling like a book flipping open in the wind.

You groan, air precious and limited, as he sinks just a hint of teeth into your jaw, your earlobe – harder, then – your throat, his tongue going flat and fat against your skin, then the valley of your collarbone. He mouths lower on your chest over your shirt, need overwhelming logic, and your fingers fly to slide up your own shirt, wriggling between his cock and the floor, and when he sees you peel your shirt up over your ribs, his mouth parts, eyes dark, framed by darker lashes.

“Fuck.”

Your back arches towards his mouth, towards his tongue and lips and teeth and the hot pant of air coming from the back of his throat. The lip of your shirt exposes your heaving tits and Dieter plants his mouth in the curve, groaning with a mouthful of your skin. He sucks, teeth prickling the skin, as if he could eat his way through you. His hips sway forward, heavy against the seam of your jeans and his nose draws up to your jaw before he’s kissing you again.

“I’m not manipulating you,” he hums out of nowhere. He blinks his bleary eyes at you, his wide hands stilling in their touch, and you want to laugh and grin and tell him he’s being silly but you can’t, you can’t over the wild beat of your heart, the sincerity in his voice a grounding force beneath the bloom of pleasure riding up from where his hips press into yours. He dips his head and drops a hot, open-mouth kiss to your throat. “‘M not, I swear, I swear–,”

“I know, Dieter.” You tug his chin up with the press of your thumb, into your seeking mouth, and he groans, tasting the transference of want, of truth, of pure desperation on your tongue. The slip of lip between his teeth turns his touch frantic.

“I want this.”

“Me too.”

Shifting over you, he kisses back down your neck, short whiskers stroking tiny burns against your skin, down your chest until he dips his head over your right breast, and bites – then soothes with his tongue. His hand nearly maps your other tit in one palm.

He squeezes as he bites again and your hips drive up into his, bliss sparkling like lightning between storm clouds beneath your skin. You aren’t sure if you moan his name or if it’s just pasted over every thought in your head. He makes you lose all sense.

With a groan he lifts his head just an inch, the cold tip of his nose drawing senseless shapes over the curves of your breast.

“Wanna see your tits – can I see your tits, please?” His hand slides up your back, between your bra band and your hot skin and digs his nails in. “Please, pretty girl, please.”

You whine your consent, nodding into the messy heap of hair that tickles your chin, and he pinches your bra off before the last dip of your head. He flings it into the darkness behind him and with a strained groan, Dieter opens his mouth around your nipple and sucks.

The corners of his mouth are still a bit cold, the heat of the fire not quite enough, and when he slurps up from the underside, the fat curve of your tit, up to your nipple again it’s like someone outlined your goosebumps in ice. You scratch at his head, begging him deeper into your chest, and he obliges with a wet, swollen hickey on the top of your tit. His teeth hurt but with each suck, it’s like he’s plucking at the string connected directly to your cunt. You throb for him.

His fingernail grazes the irate pink of your nipple, circling it again and again before he pinches and you arch, right into the flat hardness of his cock. You shake and intentionally, unintentionally, you don’t know your own body right now, rub up against his cock and Dieter, with your tit halfway in his mouth, chokes.

“Fuck, I’d ask you to do that again, but I’m gonna come like a fucking jet engine in my pants. Lemme in,” he’s babbling as his hands drop to the button of your jeans and wrench the zipper down, “I’m gonna eat you out till you’re fucking dry.”

Shoulders pressed back against the white shag carpet, you help him yank your pants down over your hips, up your calves, and off your feet. Dieter’s eyes can’t find a place to land – from the purple claim he’s laid over your tits, to the sucker pink swell of your lips, to the wettest cunt he’s maybe ever seen in his whole life –

He sits up on his heels and nearly gets caught up yanking the kimono off his shoulders. With shaking fingers, he unties his sweatpants and tugs himself out.

You’d never noticed before when your mouth flushes with spit at the sight of a good meal.

You do now.

He’s not overwhelmingly long, but he is thick, thick and a ruddy red, cream dribbling out. The sweat on his chest and stomach a few inches above sparks gold and warm in the light of the fire. In a single swipe over his palm, Dieter spreads that wet precum over his long cock, easing a few smooth strokes.

“Mhn, this is what I look like when I fuck myself at night t-thinking – thinking of you,” he groans. His hand curls around your thigh, keeping you pinned, keeping you spread. But the sight of him jerking off and moaning your name drops your knees apart and your hand on your clit. With every swipe, you circle faster until you think it’s his hand on his cock that’s doing this to you. Dieter watches, mouth open, shoulders curved as you spin yourself wetter and wetter. “Came so hard I blacked out with the thought of you like this in my head. Wait, baby, move, I wanna –,”

His hands on your knees, he shuffles closer and like you can see his words without asking, you tilt your hips up towards him, receiving him as he rubs his cock between your soaked folds. His blunt head catches your clit again and again, and you twitch, as though shocked in an electrical storm.

“Oh, fuck, baby –,”

You dig your nails into the back of his hands over your knees, using the leverage to speed up his thrusts, the ruddy tip smacking where you need him most but never inside. His eyes flutter as he feels you soak his cock, slick dripping between your thighs and the shine against your skin nearly knocks the wind out of him. He grips you harder.

“Fuck it, I gotta know what you fuckin’ taste like.”

In a move that catches your legs over his shoulders, rolls your ass up off the floor, and his body back and further down, Dieter tucks his head and latches onto your cunt, presented high near his face. He inhales as he drinks, as he eats, as he dines on the spillage down to your ass. Dieter moans and suddenly the boiling heat of pleasure rages to an inferno when he wraps his lips around your clit and licks with the flat brim of his tongue.

“Oh, oh-h-hmy fucking god, Dieter!”

It’s whiny and debauched, but it’s also a plea, a desperate bid to the last traces of your sanity. Your eyes roll back in your head and your back, flat, on the floor, but Dieter lays flat on his stomach, fingers pressing into your thighs, shoulders shoved up against the curve of your legs – his tongue still dragging breathless gasp after breathless gasp out of you. He’s tapping out nuclear launch codes with little licks of his tongue, eyes as effective at pinning you down as his thighs were.

You can feel yourself drip for him, on him, into him because his mouth is pressed right up against the seam of your pussy. Words rise and fall and die in your throat, your mind following the rising path of your orgasm into nirvana.

“Say it, baby,” he husks into your damp curls. “Tell me how good I fuck you with my tongue.”

You groan, riding his nose. “So fucking good. Oh, fuck, wait, right there – oh, shit – Dieter, baby, ahh–,”

It comes on without warning, without slowing down, without giving you a second to breathe before bliss flattens you like a train. It courses through you, singeing your blood and showering sparks behind your eyes. You spill more for him, so much for him, and he eats, like drinking honey from the source – spill, and spill until there’s nothing but a thready pulse inside your body.

He’s sucking directly from your tingling pussy when you finally push him back with a groan. Dieter retaliates with a huff, mhm mm, eyes black like the coals inside the grate, the entire bottom half of his face hidden from view as he hungrily tugs your hips to him with both arms. You’d never seen him quite so sure about something, so possessive.

Like he already owns your cunt. Stop me, I dare you, he taunts with his eyes.

“Dieter,” you plead, mouth dry, heart fluttering with each lick of his tongue. Your poor clit is drenched and stiff. “B-baby, I need you . . . up here.”

With one last prod that slides just barely between your cheeks, up through your leaky hole, and swiping your clit one last time, Dieter unplugs himself from you, murmuring and wiping his mouth as he goes. Your skin glistens where his mouth leads and he can’t resist shining up that purple swell as if showing off where he lanced you through the heart.

You half-expect him to shove his pants all the way down and shove himself into you, but he doesn’t. Instead the man known for his hedonism around the world and certainly within the building crawls up your body, drops a grateful kiss into the bend of your neck, and one by one, folds onto his elbows over you. His face smells like you, his aquiline nose inches from your own, his lips still damp and warm, and the soft brush of those lips high on your cheek has you shuddering in his arms, digging your nails into his expansive shoulders and tipping him into your waiting mouth.

He kisses you for a moment, breathing roughly out of his nose, before he wipes his broad palm across your forehead and pushes your hair back over your head, cupping the curvature of your skull. The motion drags your eyes open.

“Hi there, baby,” he murmurs quietly across your lips, eyes soft and a thousand miles deep. Your legs tuck up around his hips. “Can I fuck you now?”

You nod through the sudden blockage in your throat, the swelling in your chest making your heartbeat twice as hard. You think you might die if he doesn’t. Dieter presses a kiss with just a hint of teeth against your cheek before sliding back down, littering your skin with kisses full of praise and heat, and hovering above your belly button, he knees off his sweatpants, fully down from his hips, the motion bending him forward and pressing his face into the swell of your stomach.

“I wanna make this last,” he slurs into your skin, “but I don’t think I can. Fucking dreamed about you for weeks. Scared out of my mind when you didn’t pick up your phone.”

Dieter covers you with his body, his palm planted by your ear, the other hand wrapped around himself, and his words register in your brain, the desperation peeling back the fog of lust-drunk.

“W-when didn’t I answer my phone?”

His eyes, dark and wet, glance up from where you’re nearly combined and you nod, hands sliding from his biceps up to his shoulders. With a groan deep in his chest, Dieter rolls his hips forward, the blunt head of his cock sliding you apart and your mind nearly in half. You arch your back to take him more fully.

Half-way in and he drops his other hand to mirror the one by your head. He keeps pushing, keeps making room for himself, the thickness nearing choking you into blackness. You whine, incoherent syllables, and he grinds his jaw together.

“W-when you – fuck, baby, you’re so tight – when you went to that m-meat – ngh –,” he’s almost flushed against you, “that factory, ah-all by yourself.”

Are you sweating? How are you sweating already?

He ends against you, and you both groan at the sensation of his thick weight settling inside of you. You bury your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and tug – how dare you make me feel so good why haven’t you done this before please god don’t fucking stop now

“You were f-filming – Dieter! – you were in another countr-ry.”

With half a laugh, delirium twisting his mouth up into a smile, he lowers down and kisses you, your own mouth slow to follow him. He pulls back, a fraction of an inch.

“I would have dropped everything for you. Now, hush, I gotta fuck you until you can’t walk straight.”

His palm cupping the back of your head, his arm curled with his hand flat on the floor, Dieter starts slow, his pace deep, curious just how much of him you can take without actually tearing apart, and his cock brushes something that sends sparks up behind your eyes, splits your mouth apart, and wrenches his name out of your mouth.

“There we go,” he hisses in your ear and speeds up his thrusts. Like music cranked up on a radio, you can feel yourself pulse, your heartbeat in your neck, as every tap of his cock overwhelms your body with pleasure. The least you can do is hold on; you wrap your arms around his heaving back, and tuck your legs up to your ribs and he squelches in deeper.

“Hm – yeah – needed that–,”

Heat builds between you: between your neck and his panting breath, between the flushed skin of his chest inches from your sweaty one, between the brush of his course curls against your clit. He’s trying to make you remember every fight you had, every touch you shared, every shallow drop of his heart when you pushed him away again and again – he fucks you like he wants you to synonymize him with the very sensation of heat itself. But you’re unspooling rapidly with every thrust of his hips – more of you leaves as more of him comes in.

For the first time in weeks, you don’t think about Mags. Or her murder. Or her blue-cold apartment. You don’t think about failure or fear, or your anger that you wield like a weapon. You don’t think of your parents or what the fuck you’re going to do with your life when this mystery is over – when Dieter inevitably tires of you – you can’t think at all. He won’t let you.

He knows you want to recuse yourself, retract and hide, but he won’t let you.

The unimaginable stretch keeps your mind unfocused, blurred, and just when you think you might stabilize under the sensation, he kisses you. Harshly, softly, any kiss he knows you need to keep you in your body, forced to receive every devastating wave of pleasure he gives you. He palms back your sweaty hair off your forehead, salt clinging to his own curls, and sucks on your earlobe, asking how’re you feeling, my good girl? from between his teeth.

Your stifled sigh is answer enough.

“Almost there, love, what do you need, huh? What can I give you?” His words, offered in a voice so lust-strained, you feel the vibrations over your skin. You palm the center of his back, muscles hot and tight, and you answer with the only thing that’s on your mind:

“You.”

Breath suddenly short in his chest, he quickens his pace – shorter, faster thrusts that send you higher, sprinting towards an inevitable, bright end. His grip shifts as he squeezes your hip, that low ache tightening and locking down, the overwhelming sense of Dieter spiraling you apart.

“Show me you mean it,” he whines, the scruff of his beard rubbing your jaw raw. “Come on this cock for me, baby, show me who you need.”

You yank on his hair again and with a snarl, he snatches your wrists from around the back of his neck and pins them above your head.

“Gonna fill you up with e-exactly what you need, gonna fuck you so full of me, your undies are gonna drip white for weeks–,”

“Mhmn, yesDieterplease, yes, m’yours, y-your –,”

Another release, this one wild and spiraling, tears through you, up your spine, out of your mouth in a wide, silent scream. Your body curls around him, clinging to him as you pulse and seize, your legs twitching. Your hands tingle with a sudden loss of sensation as Dieter squeezes down on your wrists, head tucked into your neck, and with a shuddering, “f-f-fuck,” he follows your release with his own. A rough shove and he breaches your squirming cunt with his warm cum, the feel of it tugging your own smoldering orgasm along a bit further. Basking in the last twitches of your cunt, Dieter lowers his head to your shoulder, his thumbs distractedly rubbing soothing circles around your wrist. You can’t move, can barely breathe with his weight on you, but the pounding of his heart through his chest into yours settles the haze in your brain.

You know now you can’t hide the thunderous machinations of your own heart from him either.

“Don’t wanna move,” comes the dispassionate grunt at your neck, “but my ass is on fire.”

A smile then a full body laugh, that makes Dieter lift his head. His own smile strikes you in your heart: adoration, a little sleepy, and relief. He glances over his shoulder at the exposed flames mere feet from his bare ass.

“S’ what I deserve, fuckin’ in front of an open fireplace.”

“We all must suffer for our art.”

At that he turns back to you, grinning wildly and a tad bit proud. His own ego blown up to excuse his softening cock, Dieter slides out of you and onto his back. Without his chest, the heat from the fireplace collides with your bare, sweat-slick chest and you shiver.

“Cold?” He sits up and tries to catch a loop of the sheer blanket on the back of the couch but you still him with a touch of your hand on his back. The look in his eyes, that dopey ease by which Dieter lives his life, makes your other hand on your stomach tremble.

You don’t want your overthinking to ruin a truly blissful mood, but anxiety chatters at the back of your teeth. Instead of suggesting you both go to his room to shower off, or if he thinks the police might know about the secret passageways, you ask:

“Did you mean it?”

His face softens, eyes go warm. You should specify which part, but he doesn’t need you to.

“Yeah. I did.” He leans down and kisses you briefly on the mouth, knowing you have more to say and worry over.

“But–,”

“As cute as your but is, we’re not gonna do that right now. You’re going to get under this blanket with me and we’re going to talk about what you’ve found about the case and then we’re going to solve this mystery together.” Dieter reaches back and finally snags the blanket. With a shuffle, he, sweat-streaked and cum-covered, lays down with the blanket over his shoulder and opens his arms to you as though he’d done it a thousand times. Your face hot and your eyes painfully dry, you curl up into him.

“Together,” he repeats. “Did you hear that part? That’s important. We’re going to Scooby-Doo this together.”

Silence, where all the wrong things sit heavy on your tongue, your own twisted morality desperate to push him away and run out the door – silence stretches, uncomfortable and tight and –

“I’m proud of you for that pun, and not using it like I’m gonna ‘Scooby-Doo-Screw-You’.”

“Fuck,” Dieter groans and you giggle. “It was right there!”

His chest is warm as you bury your face into his skin.

You watched true crime television specials to be prepared for the worst. You listened to podcasts about missing women to avoid making deadly mistakes. You fought and hid-away your whole life to keep yourself safe and protected, but nothing – nothing in the entire world – could have prepared you for falling in love with Dieter Bravo.

His smile is soft and he knows you well enough to know that you’re thinking about something. With a brush of his thumb over your cheek, he asks:

“What?”

And all you can do is shake your head, the deluge of words and feelings trapped behind your lips and the only noise you can make to keep them inside is a squeak.

You press your forehead into his shoulder and his arms smooth across your back, tugging you closer.

“Nothing. It’s just . . . I feel safe with you.”

Safe, and happy, and loved.

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