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safination · 3 hours

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Smell of Rain Through the Window Pane

|Masterlist| Ao3| Taglist| Pairing: Alastor x wife!Reader Tags: angst. demon! Alastor. AFAB! Reader Summary: Acid drips off his umbrella and lands on the ground as he walks. You always seem to forget your umbrellas. Always. In life and in death, not once have you ever remembered to bring an umbrella. Did you forget your umbrella today as well? There’s a selfish part of him that hopes you do. Because that would mean you’re still not used to bringing your own umbrella. It means you’re still hoping and trusting that Alastor would be there with a smile and an umbrella in his hand. There are very few truths that Alastor allows himself to realize when it comes to you. If he digs those emotions out…well, he doesn’t think he would ever want to stop. It would be an insanity caused by you and you alone. TLDR: Acid rain stings, and destroys everything it touches. Still, Alastor decides that it’s a good day for a walk, because fate made him your husband. So, surely fate would find a way for him to hand you this umbrella, because you always seem to forget to bring one. Alastor will find a way to hand you an umbrella, even with the deal preventing you from seeing him. Word Count: 2.6k This is a little spin-off from my sheries: Partners in Death...and Life, but it can totally stand on its own. You don't really need to read the series to understand this. But to those who do, this is just a short one-shot I made to further develop some stuff that I won't really be fully able to explain in the main series. Again, you don't need to read the series to understand. So please read it :DD

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The clouds part, giving way to acid rain.

It’s been two years since Alastor last walked through the streets of Pentagram City. That means it’s been two years since Alastor left his wife with a vague note, and a shitty apology.

The rain corrodes the weaker structure around him. There’s a blood puddle that begins to wash away as acid mixes into it, sizzling the weak concrete below it.

Alastor summons an umbrella, and steps over puddles of piss and blood. Sinners begin to scamper away as the acid begins to burn their skin. A small laugh escapes him. It fizzles when he realizes that you would have laughed as well.

Alastor walks, and he walks and he walks and he walks and he walks. It’s supposed to clear his mind—it doesn’t work.

He’s careful to keep himself hidden inside the shadows, and far, far, away from any watchful eyes or cameras. Today isn’t the day to announce his return. Not yet, at least. There will be a time and a place, and this is neither the time nor the place.

Alastor doesn’t walk anywhere near St. An’s. Actually…he just doesn’t head anywhere near your general direction. Still, he offers a small plea to whatever being that fated him to marry you to somehow make it so that he could see you.

Acid drips off his umbrella and lands on the ground as he walks.

You always seem to forget your umbrellas. Always. In life and in death, not once have you ever remembered to bring an umbrella. Did you forget your umbrella today as well?

There’s a selfish part of him that hopes you do. Because that would mean you’re still not used to bringing your own umbrella. It means you’re still hoping and trusting that Alastor would be there with a smile and an umbrella in his hand.

There are very few truths that Alastor allows himself to realize when it comes to you. If he digs those emotions out…well, he doesn’t think he would ever want to stop. It would be an insanity caused by you and you alone.

Here’s one truth: It would kill him in more ways than one to see you with an umbrella.

It means you’ve accepted the fact that he left you. That leaving you is something he’s capable of doing. It means you’ve gotten used to thinking about having an umbrella.

The acid would sting less than the sight of you with an umbrella.

Alastor calls you ridiculous.

You call him silly.

And you are correct. He’s a silly, silly, husband. It’s that greedy part of him that wants you to keep on forgetting. Alastor needs you to keep on taking the small thing for granted. It means you still trust him to carry the mental burdens for you. It means that you know he will always be there to make sure you stay dry amidst the pouring rain.

How unfair of you to hold the ability to torture him with a simple umbrella.

Alastor walks and he walks and he walks, even if it doesn’t clear his head of you. It does the opposite. Every little drop makes him wonder if you’re staying dry. Every little splash of the rain makes him wonder if you’re enjoying a warm cup on this rainy day.

Alastor rounds the corner and smooth pavements replace pot holes. Wet leaves replace scattered carcasses. Wilted plants replace the asphalt roads. Trees replace the building, and their leaves blow all around him, sizzling away with every drop of acid.

And oh…oh…

There you are, still as beautiful as the day he first laid his eyes on you. You’re in a gazebo, a bored look on your face as you wait for the rain to cease.

Two years….Two years of torture. Two years since he’s caught a glimpse of you.

You place a hand over your eyes, settling on the gazebo’s bench. Are you really planning on taking a nap here? Anyone can take advantage of you here.

Alastor stays frozen between the park gates until you’ve fully settled into the bench. He knows when you’ve fallen asleep. How could he not? It’s in the way your breath evens out and it’s in the way your shoulders drop.

Nothing prevents him from taking a step. So, he takes another. Step after step, one foot in front of the other, until he’s in front of the gazebo entrance.

He takes a seat on the steps instead, turning his back to you with the umbrella hiding his body. Alastor will let you sleep for now, especially when exhaustion settles heavily on your shoulders. He wants to turn, to grasp a better look at you. Alastor cannot. If he does, he might never be able to leave again.

The rain pours around you and him. It creates this small bubble that houses this moment. Alastor would have to pop it, eventually. But it doesn’t have to be now. He just needs a moment here with you. Just a moment. That’s all he needs.

Alastor shouldn’t turn to face you, but he does so anyway. He turns to you for the very same reason Orpheus turns around to look at Eurydice.

“I know you have your questions,” Alastor says, leaning on the wooden railing. He’s staring at you. “You’re probably furious with me as well.”

The strength of the rain muffles his words. Your breath is low and even as you take your nap. That’s fine. He can’t have you waking up.

“This deal I made…,” he says, voice low. “A portion of it prevents you from seeing me. It’s such carefully constructed words. It means that you aren’t allowed to see me and I’m not allowed to seek you out. I phrased it in a way that allows me to see you in the context of a coincidence.”

It’s such a careful loophole that Alastor decided to place. There are so many other loopholes that he could have placed, but all of them—each and every single loophole—pertained to you. How absolutely silly of him.

Alastor could have placed a loophole to loosen his leash, or one that could potentially grant him freedom. It all happened too fast. There was no time to think, so he defaulted to the only thing in his mind—his wife. It was like instincts took over.

What does that say about him? Alastor could endure a leash, but he couldn’t endure anything that threatens you?

Alastor realizes just how selfish this loophole really is. You aren’t allowed to see him, but he can see you.

He takes a bit of your feathers, letting it flow between his fingers. “The deal didn’t even involve you,” he says. “But even when it isn’t about you, it still seems to be about you.”

His nails dig into his palms. It keeps himself grounded and prevents himself from touching you, from reaching out even more. There’s another umbrella in his hands, and Alastor doesn’t even know when he summoned it. He places it next to you.

“There are more loopholes to my deal,” he tells you, even if he knows you cannot hear him. “It’s not time yet. I just need a bit more time, but I placed them there in carefully constructed phrases and hidden words. You will be able to see me again. I promise you that.”

Alastor pops the bubble by walking away.

He stays far enough to keep his distance, but close enough to keep an eye on your safety. It takes another few minutes for you to awaken. Alastor sees your form from where he hides between the trees, and how absolutely ridiculous that is. He is your husband. Alastor shouldn’t be hiding at all.

You take the umbrella, and step out into the rain with a smile.

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Alastor spotted clouds forming over Pentagram City, and decided it was a good day for a walk.

There’s an umbrella around his hand as he determines to aimlessly walk around the cool city night. Alastor sticks to the shadows in case those pesky cameras catch a glimpse of him.

He’s walking across the streets of the seedier parts of the city. Piss and feces stain the walls and blood paints the ground. There’s no reason for you to be here, not when you should be at home or still at work. Alastor tells himself that he doesn’t want to see you. It’s why he’s here. Still, he walks and he walks and he holds out hope anyway.

Music catches his ears, causing them to flicker. It emanates from Mimzy’s club. The door to the alley slam open as two figures step out into the cold night.

“Go home before it rains,” Mimzy says, and Alastor knows it's her because he could recognize her voice anywhere. “I’m not going to deal with you becoming all mopey over the rain.”

Another voice speaks out, and it’s one that Alastor knows on an intimate level. He knows that voice even more than Mimzy’s.

“I’m never doing this again,” you say, weakly. “I swear, I’m never doing this—”

Puke hurls out your guts and spills across the already dirty alley.

Alastor presses himself by the entrance of the ally. He keeps far away from your sight, but peeks out just enough to see you.

Mimzy rubs your back as spit out whatever’s left from your puke. “You said that the last three times,” she tells you. “Look, I’m all good for some party time and getting high but you’re just drinking your problems away and there’s already enough of those losers inside. There’s no fun in that! That deer of yours would surely cause a hissy fit.”

Your laughter echoes around the alley before the sound is replaced by your puking.

“He certainly would,” you say and wipe the corners of your mouth. “I can practically see it.”

“Why don’t you just leave? It’s been four years, sweetheart,” Mimzy says, and Alastor’s jaw tightens at her words. “I love the guy as well, but you need to start thinking about yourself. I’m still in my prime, ya’know. Got enough youth to help you move your stuff.”

“Can’t,” you mumble.

Mimzy snorts and takes out a pack of cigarettes. She flickers the lighter, taking a puff once it’s lit. The cigar gets offered. “You made a deal or something?”

“A vow, actually,” you say, refusing the smoke with a wave of your hand. “Those things will kill you.”

“Already dead, sweetheart,” Mimzy says, taking another puff. “Then what? You sold your soul to him?”

“There was no point in making a deal for my soul.” You press your hand on the wall, heaving a little. Nothing comes out. “We have our vows.”

Mimzy blows smoke to your face. “That he’s currently breaking.”

“Thank you for inviting me out,” you say, waving the smoke out of your face. “I always have fun with you.”

“You don’t actually think that,” she says, pointing her cigar.

“Why do I keep hearing that?” you mumble, running a hand through your feathers. “I actually did have fun with you.”

“Well, it’s hard to believe when I know this world could split in half, and you wouldn’t give two shits about it.”

You take the cigar from her fingers, and inhale the smoke. A cough escapes you as the smoke irritates your throat. “I do care,” you say, trying to take another puff. “I don’t understand why you enjoy this.”

Mimzy takes the cigar back from you and blows smoke to your face once more. “There are very few things you bother yourself to care about,” she says. “And I’m not one of them.”

“That’s only because fire seems to follow you around,” you tell her, smiling. “It took forever to re-grow my feathers.”

Puke comes out from your mouth once more. You couch the remains out before hurling once more. Mimzy rubs your back when it should be Alastor who does so.

“Stay here. Shout if anything happens,” Mimzy says, killing the light of her cigar with her foot. “I’ll get you some water, and help ya get home. But you owe me.”

“I could kiss you right now.”

Alastor’s smile widens into a snarl as he curls deeper into the shadows.

Mimzy bats an eye to you. “Don’t tempt me, missy.”

The door shuts with a loud bang as Mimzy steps back into her club. You place your hand on the wall, taking deep breaths to steady yourself. How much did you drink?

“Hello,” you call out. “I can hear you.”

Alastor keeps himself at the entrance of the alley, hidden by the shadows. He doesn’t answer you.

“I really am never doing this again,” you say. “I said that the last three times but I’m here again. My husband would kill me.”

There are quite a number of things Alastor would like to say to you, but silence is the only reply he can stand to give.

“You seem pretty harmless,” you say. “And I’m kind of bored. Let’s have a chat, yeah? My friend will be back in a moment—Fuck! Are those clouds? Is it going to rain soon? Did you know my husband would be mad to hear such language out my mouth? Can’t help it…I really need to stop watching so much television. Rots the brain.”

You crumple to the floor and take a deep breath. Alastor presses his back on the wall, and it’s the sensation of the hard bricks that prevent him from stepping into the light.

“Need to go home soon.” You’re talking to him even when you don’t know it’s him at the end of the alley. Some portion of you hope you do know. “But it’s hard to go home right now…it’s all just empty, and I am absolutely never doing this again because why am I saying this to some random stranger?”

The clouds part, and acid rain begins to drizzle into the alley.

“I used to like the rain,” you mumble, leaning your head on the bricks. “Got married in the rain. Both times. Ha! That’s a funny coincidence, but I like to call it fate.”

These are words he isn’t meant to hear, but still, Alastor accepts the truth you are displaying. He tosses the umbrella when the rain begins to pour, and once again…Alastor walks away from you.

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The acid rain howls across the city. The strength of its fury floods certain areas of the city.

Yet, Alastor walks across the rain, even if his clothes dampen. There’s an extra umbrella in his hand as his feet bring him to St. An’s. You always forget your umbrella…Please…please forget again.

Maybe he could leave this in your office, or slip it into your bag. Alastor could hide in the shadows, but doing so means he loses the opportunity to see you. There’s no guarantee that you’re still in the building. Thus, Alastor isn’t breaking any deals.

So, he stays out in the pouring rain, even as the rain soaks his clothes, and waits for you to come out. It takes more than a moment for you to step out the automatic doors. (It took sixty whole minutes of acid rain dripping into his clothes.)

A stray Sinner follows after you. There’s an umbrella around his hand that he offers to you.

Faint static emanates from him. The noise is soft and muffled by the strength of the rain, but your head snaps out into the city. You look around as if you heard his static, as if you are always on the lookout for his sound.

The Sinner offers his umbrella once more. You shake your head, and take out your own umbrella. It’s a proper and sturdy one. Its design and color perfectly match your taste. It’s an umbrella that you prepared and thought to bring with you.

Alastor smiles at you, even if you couldn’t see him, and walks away. It seems he was correct…

But how is it possible for a simple umbrella to sting more than the acid rain?

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What do you guys think? I was the the mood for some angst lol. So here you go. The day I stop making a Ben&Ben reference is the day I die. Lifetime has me in a choke hold. Paninindigan kita? Even worse than a choke hold. It has a death grip on me and it's not even funny. Don't be shy tell me what you think. Come on now! I promise I don't bite. <3 I highly encourage you guys to check out Partners in Death...and Life if you enjoyed this oneshot

#alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x wife!reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x you #the radio demon #radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel imagines #angst

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silentwalrus1 · 2 days

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oh did you not like sys tem coll apse? why not if you don’t mind me asking

Spoilers for system collapse below!

- felt very much like publishers/editors or whoever else were like hey Mwells this series is a smash hit you got anything else in the tank? And mwells scraped together a bunch of discarded scenes and concepts from the prev books and mushed that together into a minimum viable product

- no growth - all character arcs are either rehashes of what already happens in prev books or have no impact whatsoever. MB already learns that it cares about its friends and its friends care about it, that it can rely on them (hello Network Effect aka the most SLAMMIN AWESOME scifi action story i’ve read all DECADE); Tarik being a former corporate death squad trooper or whatever has absolutely no effect or consequence on anything; MB has even already crafted its own narrative & shared it, hello the documentary with bharadwaj??? the files it cut together for 3? THE WHOLE CONCEIT OF THE SERIES WHICH ARE THE MURDERBOT DIARIES WHICH ARE FRAMED EXPLICITLY AS NARRATIVES MB DELIBERATELY CRAFTS & SHARES WITH OTHERS???

- the climax of the book is. A montage.

Of our heroes making a powerpoint presentation.

I WISH this had been cool. It would’ve been hysterical to have a Final Battle be a pptx fight. Except.

It was. A montage. And then all the actual defining decisions happen offscreen. We don’t even get to see our heroes DO the actual thing - MB’s hacking gets a lot more detail than the construction of the pptx. Furthermore, how is this any different from what the corporate side is doing? Literally they’re both presenting competing propaganda pitch decks to a skeptical investor board that has what they want. It doesn’t actually matter that One Of These Powerpoints Is Always True And The Other Always Lies - how is it meaningfully different from a narrative & character standpoint? Right from the start of the series, PresAux are markedly different to all prior humans MB has had experience with - they are non-corporates! In this story about corporations/capitalism ruining everything! And then our other main heroes we meet, ART’s crew, are aggressively ANTI-corporate! So to have the climax of this latest book be “well both sides did the same action but one of them was objectively cooler bc it was Righteous - no dw it’s all happening offscreen anyway. Who cares.”

Well. Idk man, i was fucking bummed! It was boring!

Not to mention that the entire stakes of this whole… thing… are so lacking, as a reader? The rehash of prior arcs is especially poignant here, because none of the central concerns of the book feel like they matter. MB has already spent 5 books dealing with emotional disregulation, chronic issues caused by interactions of its organic + nonorganic parts, its attempts to navigate freedom, personhood and relationships in societies of bots and humans as a construct that is neither bot nor human but its own third thing, and learning to rely and trust itself and others. The first five books do this masterfully. System Collapse introduced nothing new, didn’t develop any relationships or plot arcs, regressed MB’s own main arc for no reason and ignored the entire symphony of a thesis of the entire damn series previous. Wish it wasn’t so :/

#Network Effect was a spectacular crown to the series with Fugitive Telemetry as a fun side romp outside the main arc #System Collapse as a sequel to Network Effect just doesn’t… work #yap yap #murderbot #system collapse spoilers #system collapse #like. there IS room for more after NE! i preordered this book not least bc i was RABID! FOR MORE THREE!!!#a relationship between MB and another free secunit!! hewwo?????? we’ve had bots and humans BUT NOW ANKTHER SECUNIT #THE PEOPLE MB HAS THE MOST FUCKIN ISSUES AROUND!!!#ITSELF!!! INGROUP!!! THERES DELICIOUS FRUIT HERE CMON #MARTHA CAN YOU HEAR ME??? MARTHA????#god. time to reread the entire series again from scratch

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vroomian · 2 months

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So not only did tv-head bag Masa, he bagged Ue too?

Does Lucifer find out?

Whoever Masa loves, Ue loves. When Ue calls Masa its heart, it’s really really not exaggerating.

#you've got questions we've got answers #think of Ue as a sentient sensation of hunger and starvation #it doesn’t have any emotions of its own!#it uses masa’s heart mind and humanity to experience more than what is capable of on its own #black hole au #bbp #it loves masa more than even its own desire to eat. ue is masa is ue. there’s no difference in its mind #j

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wren-was-here · 5 months

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listen i know gwen is definitely flawed but all the anti gwen fics i’ve read are like

“she rolled her eyes and scoffed then she talked way too loud and told everyone their feelings didn’t matter and then she punched ianto in the face and then accidentally blew up the hub”

like. bro.

#like i said criticism is valid but i have two points #a. ALL OF THEM ARE DEEPLY FLAWED #that is the WHOLE THING #that’s like what it show IS #AND THEY CHANGE AS IT GOES ON #gwen is awkward and annoying as fuck at the beginning of the show because SHE IS SUPPOSED TO BE #ITS THE POINT #b. idk maybe i’m wrong and i’m not saying that everyone who doesn’t like her is misogynistic #HOWEVER #whenever people like #REALLY hate a character because she’s like annoying or too obsessed with her children or her boyfriend or she’s too empathetic or emotional #i do raise an eyebrow #because i don’t see people hating any characters who are men like this #i’m sure it’s happened somewhere #and everyone is entitled to their opinion #but like #something to consider #i feel the same about everyone hating jj #that one is worse i think but that needs its own post #because YIKES #torchwood #gwen cooper

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apollos-boyfriend · 2 years

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the next person on tiktok to talk about lolita (the book, not the fashion, though that’s on thin ice too) dies by my hand

#icarus speaks #LEARN WHAT AN UNRELIABLE NARRATOR IS #LEARN TO THINK FOR YOURSELF FOR ONCE #you’re not gonna fucking spoonfed morality. if you read lolita and are on humberts side #THATS A YOU PROBLEM. GET HELP #but then fucking 90% of the people that try to talk about it have never even picked up the book #and probably only know it from its film adaptation #i saw someone talking about how fucking. lolita is overly sexualized and not given any agency nor her own feelings/emotions #CONGRATS!! YOU FOUND THE POINT #she’s not SUPPOSED to be a full-dimensional character because humbert doesn’t fucking see her as one #he doesn’t actually care about her own feelings #she’s SUPPOSED to be spoken over. re-written and warped into humbert’s reality. THATS THE FUCKING POINT #sigh. killing maiming violence etc etc #ask to tag

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hamletthedane · 4 months

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I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

#shut up e #long post #Saturday thoughts #this has been in my drafts for a week haha #also this is the heart of why AI art feels so wrong #forget the discussion of copyright and theft etc - even if models were only trained on public domain they would still feel very wrong #because they’re not art. art is the labor of creation #even commercial art and art commissioned by the popes and kings of history: there is humanity in the labor of it #unrelated: I did not know living in the Bronx was now something to brag about. How the fuck do y’all New Yorkers afford this city???

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staryuee · 17 days

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HOW THEY REACT TO YOUR SILENT TREATMENT.

꒰warnings꒱ not proofread … sigh

⠀꒲ ` synopsis . . . you and your partner are having a “cooling down period”, a time of détente, after a recent argument. how do they deal with the lack of love from you?

⠀꒲ ` characters . . . diluc, eula, wanderer, ayato, gorou, tartaglia, lyney, wriothesley, neuvillette, arlecchino

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . as a psychology student ☝️🤓 i can safely say that the silent treatment is usually frowned upon due to its connotations with emotional abuse, therefore i tried my best to make it apparent that this sort of silence is within the boundaries of the relationship ( ･᷄ὢ･᷅ ) please communicate with your loved ones if you feel a certain way :)

you and your beloved recently had a pretty bad argument. out of respect for both of your feelings you both decided to have a period of détente to allow a gradual recovery of your emotions and logical reasonings.

there was no need to argue, and there was also no need to be hostile or petty; therefore your silent treatment wasn’t a way to maliciously gain control or make your lover come running back to you, it was a way for both of you to regain composure and come back to the topic when prepared.

that did unfortunately, lead to much less affectionate gestures from both of you. of course there was still the casual “i love you” every morning and night accompanied by a simple kiss, but it never went anything beyond that.

while your lover fully knew why this sort of peaceful coexistence was necessary, sometimes it’s sincerely difficult to not just reach out and kiss you breathless.

you’re so close yet so far, it’s unbearable.

R. DILUC — 迪卢克

master diluc has been rather restless lately.

constant muttering to himself, plucking the dried up skin that stuck out from his badly bitten lips, his gloved hands constantly scratching a non existent scratch; honestly, if the fellow residents of dawn winery didn’t know any better they’d think he was possessed and required an immediate exorcist.

adelinde refuses to see her precious baby sink his eyes into ruin purely because he’s out secretly patrolling once he wakes up in the middle of the night to clear his head. you’re always there with him throughout the night: but why does it still feel so empty regardless?

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST ?

diluc is no pushover or people pleaser; if you were guilty, then you’re guilty and he’ll wait all the time in the world till you eventually own up and apologise (please let that come sooner or later though otherwise he’ll give into ruin and sip alcohol for a breather). otherwise, if its his fault, or no ones and it was a mere misunderstanding, the silent treatment lasts for a day. not any longer not any less; he doesn’t allow it to.

he’s more than happy to wait forever for you but gods if he ever made a mistake that accidentally led you to elongating this supposed transient silence till the end of time, diluc would much rather swallow his pride and give his all to you. you’re worth more than pettiness, and he’ll prove that to you once you wake up and get greeted with all your favourite luxuries and a bright, relieved smile on his face.

EULA — 优菈

you’re beyond delusion if you think this woman won’t turn this into a healthy-ish competition of sorts.

you wish to avoid her for days on end? she’s already used to the world avoiding her mere gaze, she can withstand the somber feeling of having the one person who’s fully understood her as the complex person she is self-isolating from her for a little while.

never mind, no, she literally can’t. come back to her right now. we have problem right? lets talk about it, isn’t that what you taught her in the first place? what do you mean you need a break and want to clear your head for a while to not hurt her feelings? you think eula of all people cares about something like that?

she’d rather you spit at her than withstand another hour of this mindless nonsense.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

she doesn’t apologise unless she sees whatever caused this perilous argument in the first place truly hurt you and you ended up in tears; otherwise whats the use in pointless words when you can easily hug it out and call it a day?

she lets you apologise under the guise of “if you don’t, my vengeance towards you will be greater than my foes”, but in reality? eula is hardly paying any attention to the words slipping past your lips. all she’s thinking about is how she’ll be able to shake off this uneasy tension that’s somehow been created between you two.

WANDERER — 流浪者

you can’t tell which one of you needed this little breather more, after all, you’d hope scara would allow himself to soften after distancing from you after a while, and scara hoped you’d see reason within your argument and eventually, as always, forgive him.

but forgiveness is a two way straight in the way most people subconsciously ignore; does he and could he ever forgive himself? that image of your teary eyed face, the harsh puffs of breath you heaved to prevent any more molten venom to burn his plastic skin, the slight clenching of your jaw, fuck it hurt.

he couldn’t admit it at the time, but right now after being forcefully peeled away from you for about week and forcing auntie nahida to listen to his venting rambles? he wished he just gave it all up and did something: anything at all. kissed you, hugged you, consoled you, swiped your tears away with his thumbs, fluttered his eyelashes on your cheek gently as he whispered an i love you.

yet all he could do right now was wait.

wait until you hopefully came back, he couldn’t face you. if you abandoned him he’d deal with it. the petals on the floor and the hushed whispers of “they love me, they love me not” are just hallucinations from his worried caregiver, he swears.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

never would he stoop so low as to apologise.

verbally. that is. if he’s aware that he’s in the wrong (believe me that look on your face does wonders for trying to figure out whats on your mind) he’ll begrudgingly come up with some covert way of making it up to you. he doesn’t want to be stuck in this immortalised silence forever; believe me, he likes your talking more than he realises and this little test trial of abandonment was more than enough proof that your existence within his life is essential.

if you’re not there standing by his side, what even is the point in that fraudulent pacemaker of his? your laughter is in the same shape of his heartbeat; if you’re not here, he’s just back to being that dumb little puppet cuddled ashore in the slim darkness of the night.

K. AYATO — 神里绫人

bile builds up in ayato’s throat, eyes threatening to spill hazardous tears on his paperwork. he HATES being away from you. yes, you’ll be back comfortably in his arms with a kiss on your forehead soon…but time isn’t making that “soon” come any quicker and it’s killing him.

‘silence’ is only the act of not speaking, right? so he’s technically allowed to sneak in pastries onto your desk when you’ve gone to take a break — he’s also most certainly allowed to write down his frustrations about not being able to be overly affectionate with you and then pitifully sliding them under your door in hopes you’ll read them and maybe write one back.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

he desperately tries to convince himself that if he works long enough, he’ll forget the hollowing feeling in his heart that’s left in the silhouette of you. he puts down his calligraphy pen with an exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples with rough motions as if to completely rid himself of any lingering thought of you.

that’ll never work, and ayato thinks you two have calmed down enough so therefore he trudged his way into your room, knocking of course, and sat down with you for a lengthy but beneficial conversation.

without a doubt, ayato will be the one to apologise first. whether it’s a conscious decision or not completely depends on how long he’s been away from you; at some point you just fall back into regular routine completely by accident.

GOROU — 五郎

he’s glad you’ve decided to take this sort of approach to your relationship instead of having a painful battle of the wits with him but right now, he’d withstand a thousand hours of scolding than the way his fellow soldiers worryingly clutter around their little general and ask about his well-being purely because those furry ears atop his bundle of bed hair decided to stay drooped down all week.

but he can’t help it! he’s utterly miserable! you didn’t even give him your complimentary “good morning, have fun at work, be safe” kiss before he left the door in the static quiet of your abode. to top this torture off? you haven’t pet him once, and while he’d normally revel in not being treated like an actual lap dog…you’re a huge exception in that rule!

unfortunately, it’s not like he can just outright demand attention from you merely because he’s feeling a bit down on his luck. you asked for peace, he’ll give it to you. he’s a war veteran but treats you like a flower thats sprouted on a ruined patch of sand.

ehem, but please come back to him soon. please?

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

whatever it takes to get your pretty hand to ruffle through his brunette locks he’ll do, he doesn’t care if the apology consists of him kneeling down on pitifully shaking his head near your thigh with his lips puckered into a pout. shame doesn’t exist within your relationship right? he’s more than willing to apologise first regardless of who was to blame.

if the argument was a little more serious however, he’ll sit down you on your couch that holds so many sweet significant memories within your mind, his head resting atop your collarbone and tail sneakily swishing from side to side now that your heartbeat was so clear to him. he’ll hear you out, talk through it, but more importantly, love and appreciate you.

TARTAGLIA — 公子

nuh uh. you think you’re getting silence with someone like him around? unless one or both of you fucked up really bad, tartaglia can’t see the point in silent ignorance; if you want to ignore him to personally calm down? sure, do whatever you want honey, you’re still getting treated like the other piece of his heart that you are.

if you’re genuinely annoyed he can leave you alone…for maybe two hours thirty minutes max. he loves you so much, talk to him, he doesn’t care if you insult him out of anger, lash out at him if you must. so long as you return into his arms so he can sway you around within his tender embrace and pepper your face with kisses, he’ll be more than happy and satisfied.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

him all day — call it the big brother complex with having to always apologise first whenever he got into a slight squabble or disagreement with his siblings when he were younger, or call it pure unadulterated love for you and the refusal to continue with this pointless staring battles whenever you guys were sitting across from each other.

whatever it is, just know he takes your feelings seriously regardless of the teasing grin across his face when you try not to squirm from the way his hand traveled from across your waist to the slither of exposed stomach. he just wants to assure you that his love won’t ever fade even if it becomes so deliberately one sided. he’s yours, after all.

LYNEY — 林尼

he’s used to eerie silence that bellowed icy winds against his ears, used to the tension that forced out his fight or flight response, but currently all he could do was freeze and overthink. how come this silence seemed so much more deafening than usual?

lyney doesn’t want this worse than capital punishment torture to continue without at least the slightest bit of laughter mingled into both of your days; he tries his best to curve your lips to even the slightest twenty degree lift using whatever he could. silly little flower reappearing trick there, a sneaky kiss to the side of your neck here; just any fleeting desperate attempt for some reciprocation on your part.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

lyney’s used to apologising first given his experiences within the house of hearth and the father herself. so imagine his surprise when you both incidentally stammer over one another as you two splutter apologies helplessly. god he’s so happy your relationship is built open gushes of giggles instead of the splats of tears because if it weren’t for that cute little accident? lyney was sure the second you opened your lovely lips to speak he would’ve teared up.

he missed that voice telling him constant i love yous, the affectionate cradling of his face against your neck and the way you wouldn’t hesitate to hold his flushed face within your cooling hands to comfort him after a particularly stress inducing performance.

WRIOTHESLEY — 莱欧斯利

you left the conversation with an “i love you.” so he knows that you’ll come back to him.

however, the last time he blindly trusted the comforting words of a loved one, it ended with blood on his hands and a lengthy sentence at the fortress of meropide. luckily for his heart and your own, he knows your charms and honeyed words aren’t for show and truly mean something.

wriothesley respects your boundaries and wishes to the t, he won’t speak to you like nothing at all happened but that doesn’t mean he won’t be overly cautious when it comes to your behavioural patterns. if he notices this sentence of silence is clearly taking its toll on you, he will, with no hesitation, talk everything out with you.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

depending on the argument, he’ll apologise first. if it’s rather undeniable that you were the one in the wrong however, he’ll explain his feelings thoroughly until you apologise — the standard. he doesn’t want this silence to end till the fortress of meropide overflows with primordial water so once you see multiple guards on your case more than ever, just know he’d like to talk to you.

NEUVILLETTE — 那维莱特

fontaine has been drenched in rain for the past couple of days. every hour, every minute, every second neuvillette spends alone in his office makes him realise just how grand and solemn it is. everything is so mundane and banal…even the cheerful mutters and chatters of the sweet melusines couldn’t bring a smile to his face — much to the dismay of the little sigewinne who even so kindly brought him a cake to cheer him up…

what makes it even worse is that everything reminds him of you…and oh god the muddied clouds have once again been cursed with rain. this unquenchable thirst for your presence cannot be ignored by a mere sip from his intricate cup and being the ever so carefully mindful iudex, neuvillette sees it more than fit to call this hopeless game of silence to quits.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

regardless of who’s in the wrong, neuvillette apologises first. he’s sorry for letting this go so far, he should’ve just trusted his gut and returned to your side even if it meant having to persuade you with his clever tongue or the coiling of his draconic tail around your leg to pull you sweetly closer.

honestly, if he could, he’d make this a punishment in the fortress of meropide for every couple. you committed a petty, technically non offensive crime? well instead of doing some charity work for the city, you’re not allowed by the side of your beloved for a few weeks.

ARLECCHINO — 阿蕾奇诺

a bunny within the jaws of a spring locked beast thinking it can persuade the tides in their favour with silence? arlecchino is amused you’d think such cheap tomfoolery would work to solve through your problems.

“darling, come here,” she taps her lap with her blood-stained nail, her eyes looking up at you greedily to soak up every single jitter of your movements as you alas fall onto your rightful throne, “my dumb bunny,” arlecchino coos at you with that devilishly low hum of her voice. “do you think the phrases ignorance is bliss, distance brings fondness, truly work within our relationship?”

arlecchino painfully grasps at your waist, that grip only loosening once you comfortably situate yourself on her thighs and lace your arms around her neck per routine. “i’d expect this behaviour from my children at the house of hearth, not you, angel.” she nibbles on your earlobe deliberately, forcing your lips to part just the way she likes. that perfect look of both surprise and desire; it’s a gorgeous display of your vulnerability.

“explain to me your problems, or else we can be at this forever.”

no such thing as the silent treatment when the very epitome of a wordless shadow has betrothed you.

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost ♡ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪʜᴇᴀʀᴛɢᴀɴʏᴜ

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exuvianen · 1 month

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dating hc's with dr. ratio, aventurine + blade!

headcanons about what these hsr men do in a relationship witth you <3

cw: x reader, gn! reader (no physical descriptions), mostly fluff, sfw, headcanon style

notes: hsr brainrot… ahahaha... i hope i have a fairly good grasp on these characters and wrote them well.

wc: ~1050 words, around 350 words per character. all under the cut!

feel free to drop an ask or to add on to my thoughts! likes + rbs are appreciated <3

✎ Dr. Ratio:

He likes parallel play, or being alone together with you. He works on his own projects, like grading papers or writing a new thesis while you’re doing your own thing, like playing video games or reading. Occasionally, he might ask you for your input, such as ideas about his next thesis or what pose he should sculpt himself into next.

He has a spare desk and chair for you in his office. You can choose to do work or entertain yourself there when you visit him and he’s still teaching a lecture, but feel free to take a nap on the plush sofa he bought just for you.

He will nag you about your health but in an annoyingly endearing way. He fusses over you, telling you about appropriate attire for today’s weather, offering you an umbrella, and reminding you to drink water.

He entertains all your ideas, no matter how silly or illogical. He’ll hear you out on anything you say, though he might have some very strong disagreements or objections to your ideas, especially if they are silly or completely nonsensical. However, he never turns you away when you bound up to him with a mischievous gleam in your eyes - he just sighs and prepares himself mentally to hear whatever goofiness comes out of your mouth.

He’s your biggest cheerleader, supporter, and advocate. Though he may come off as intimidating, he is always willing to help advance your career or work. He has many connections and vast knowledge of the universe after all - why not utilize them for his beloved?

He’s very good at dispelling any irrational thoughts in your head. If you’re panicking and your mind is disoriented, he’ll sit next to you and hold your hand gently, but firmly to ground you. He doesn’t speak at all when you vent out all your frustration, confusion, or anger - rather, he’s silently contemplative and then asks questions when you finish talking. He’ll indirectly guide you to a solution while gently calming you down as he dispels those pesky thoughts from your head.

He makes a custom alabaster head for you.

♤ Aventurine:

A big fan of matching accessories and clothing. You don’t need to wear the exact same outfit, but he likes wearing complementary colors and jewelry to yours.

If you’d like, he’d be more than happy to bring you to casinos and public events with him. He wants to show off to you and let you witness his wit, talent, and skill like a peacock presenting its colorful feathers.

He likes it a lot when you trace his skin through the spade-shaped hole in his outfit.

He hates the feeling of being vulnerable, but he likes being around you. This creates conflicting emotions inside of him. Oftentimes, he doesn’t know how to deal with it and just lurks by you. Pull him into a hug to quiet the voices in his head.

He will send you packages or luxury items from the planets he’s visiting. You’ll be greeting a disgruntled Topaz or IPC soldiers at your door as they hand you various gifts ranging from limited-edition jewelry to flowers that bloom only once every 200 amber eras. He gifts extremely grand things, but he always knows how to find things that suit your tastes.

He’s a big spender on you. If you’re unused to the amount of money he’s willing to throw at you, he’s going to give you a lot of “exposure therapy” with his generosity. He’ll invite you to private auctions, lavish galas, luxury boutiques, and high-end jewelry stores. He’ll start filling your wardrobe with tailor-made clothes with the excuse that you should match his outfits when you attend formal events together, but his clothing contributions eventually infiltrate your closet pretty deeply.

He enjoys being pampered and pampering you. Self-care nights are a must - as a representative of the IPC and one of the ten Stonehearts, he has to keep himself presentable and looking sharp, and that goes for his partner too! He’s more than happy to spend money to fund your trips to the salon or buy you any beauty products to use at home. He’d love to put on face masks together and share a drink or two with you.

☠︎︎ Blade:

If you want to, and Elio’s script permits, he will bring you along on missions to safer planets. He’ll drop you off at a commercial district - feel free to go shopping or try out some novelty food while he wraps up his Stellaron Hunter business.

He likes getting his hair brushed. One of his favorite activities is sitting down and letting you comb through his hair after he cleans up from a mission. It’s an activity that leaves him vulnerable, but he doesn’t mind if it’s with you.

He’s an acts of service kind of guy. He moves to take your bags before you even say anything, holds open doors, and pulls out chairs for you. Brings you a cup of water and some fruit when you’ve been working for too long, and silently drapes his jacket over you when you shiver.

Tell him you like a certain pastry and he’ll show up every day and bring some. Show him a picture of a pretty flower and he’s boarding a spaceship to bring the flower to you personally. If you want something, he’ll do his best to get it.

He’s pretty quiet, but he’ll remember everything you say, what your preferences are, and what you like. He secretly writes it down in case his memory gets murky, and he’ll often reread his notes to remind himself.

He gives simple but traditional gifts to you, such as jade bracelets and pendants, and combs and hairpins if you have longer hair to wear or use them.*

He’ll treasure anything you gift to him. If you make an accessory for him, he wears it at all times. If your gift is small enough, he’ll stow it safely in his pockets and take it everywhere with him.

If family is important to you, he’ll send funds their way and ensure that they’re taken care of.

As someone who’s often dead and then undead, his body can get stiff. He’ll enjoy it immensely if you massage him, and accompany him for his daily stretches and calisthenics. Even if you just hold him for a while, he finds that his muscles will relax from the warmth emitting from your body. Therefore, he quite appreciates having you physically near him.

* Combs, hairpins, Jade bracelets, and pendants were given as tokens of love and affection in Ancient China. These gifts have a deeper meaning/symbolism, but for the sake of post length, I did not write them all out.

#exuvia works #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x you #aventurine x reader #dr.ratio x reader #hsr headcanons #blade x reader #honkai star rail headcanons #hsr blade #hsr aventurine #hsr dr.ratio #ratio x reader #veritas x reader #veritas ratio x reader

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sttoru · 9 months

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𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐄

⟣ sypnosis. everyone has their own fetishes and things they get turned on by; some things being very random or specific—naturally, your lover has his own. what are random / mundane things you do that he gets turned on by?

⟣ note. uhh kinda a thought i had back in the days of my old account + from this post & now i just wrote it out . . . hope you all enjoy. this post contains smut, proceed at own risk !

⟣ tags. dom!gojo, geto, toji x female reader (separately). headcanons + drabbles. smut. (over)sexualisation. gojo: m! masturbation, implied blow job, dirty talk, reader gets called ‘baby, princess’, teasing | geto: teasing / edging, dirty talk, breast play, dry humping, implied breeding, degradation if you squint, reader gets referred to as ‘wife(y)’ | toji: brat taming, pussy spanking, cunnilingus, teasing, dirty talk, reader gets called ‘doll, slut,’

GOJO SATORU.

definitely the classical ‘sucking on a lollipop’. satoru himself doesn’t even know why he gets so turned on by the sight of the candy disappearing between your plump lips—it’s not that he likes it when just anybody’s enjoying a lollipop either—only when you do it, it’s a complete turn-on. it’s ridiculous that you have that much power over him honestly.

since satoru’s been dating you, he’s discovered so many things about his body that he never even knew of; new feelings, new emotions, new. . kinks and fetishes. there’s just something about you eating a lollipop (or actually any kind of food that you need to suck on) and he’s already having a difficult time hiding his hard-on. he swears that he’s never found that innocent thing ‘hot’ before;

will try to play it off—try to ignore it, but naturally, fails at this. you can easily see the changes in his expression and actions.

satoru shifts in his seat on the couch, eyes trembling as they didn’t know where to focus; the show playing on the tv or you, who’s next to him, suckling on a lollipop like it was the best meal you’ve eaten.

“is it good, princess?” satoru asks in hopes of distracting his perverted mind from going any further. you turn your head towards him and nod, taking the candy out of your mouth with a faint ‘pop’ sound, “mhm. very.”

it’s like you knew — the way your eyelashes flutter, your glistening lips parted into a sly smile, tongue sticking out to slowly lick the sweetness and circle around its surface to get every last drop of that strawberry taste. just like the way you would tease his tip—

satoru shakes his head as if it’d help erase the mental image of you on your knees between his legs; get yourself together. she’s just eating a lollipop. there’s nothing sexual to that.

but he can’t help it. his body reacts on its own as the blood flows to his crotch, his boxers restrain the growing bulge and his cheeks turn a pink hue. his breathing pattern turns irregular as well; all clear indications of his arousal.

you were too preoccupied with your little snack and the tv-show to notice any of it. the distraction was perfect for satoru—he could palm himself through his shorts and you wouldn’t notice a thing. so, that’s what he decided to do.

his big hand sneak under the waistband, long fingers reaching far enough to stimulate his throbbing cock through the fabric of his underwear. it wasn’t long before you start to notice what was happening down there. satoru was never good at hiding such things from you.

“shit—sorry, baby.” satoru flashes you a weak smile after seeing your eyes land near his groin area, “you’re just so fuckin’ hot. . i couldn’t wait.”

he tilts his head back, warm breath coming out in small gasps whilst his hand motions continue. satoru was shameless at this point. he didn’t care if you knew—all you had to do was sit there, look pretty, have a lollipop in your warm mouth and he’d be able to finish himself off with no problems.

“need some help?” you chuckle, biting down on the ball of candy in your mouth and throwing the empty stick away somewhere on the coffee table.

satoru lets a whimper escape his lips at your suggestion. he wouldn’t say no to that, but it truly felt like he’d cum right in his pants from the idea. he can’t wait to hear those wet, suckling noises again—this time due to you sucking and licking something else than a mere lollipop. something way bigger.

“mhm, fuck, yeah. need ya to suck me off so bad—might cum the moment i feel those lips wrapped ‘round my dick, though. ya mind if i do? just don’t forget to swallow like a good girl, ‘kay?”

GETO SUGURU

his ‘kink’ is simple: just you in an apron does unspeakable things to that man. suguru’s always knew that you’d be the one he marries, however every time you put on an apron to cook, the desire to make you his wife intensifies ten fold. you look absolutely adorable in it—standing near the kitchen counter whilst moving back and forth in your pink apron.

another thing about that which turns suguru on even more, is when he finds you in the kitchen after spending the night together, wearing only panties, his shirt and the apron. ‘easy access’, is what he likes to call it. his arms would find their place around your waist, clothed dick pressing and grinding against your ass from behind. next thing you know he’s pushing your panties to the side and fucking you good.

probably will dirty talk right into your ear whilst giving you that good, early sex session in the morning.

suguru sucks on your earlobe and digs his teeth in the soft flesh before pulling away, hands still feeling up your tits under the apron, hips deeply rubbing against the fat of your ass—just what you expected to happen once you put that apron on. his favourite one at that.

“look at you,” suguru purrs against your nape whilst leaving small pecks across the skin, “you’re going to be such a good wife and mother one day, sweetheart. and i want to be that lucky man that gets to call you his wife. .”

his words and touches were merely used as a way to divert your attention from your cooking. if suguru wanted to take you right then and there, he would. and he knew you’d allow it. you always do; you turn putty in his hands whenever he’s so loving like this in the early mornings.

“mngh, yes, please.. wan’ you so bad, suguru.” your voice is a quiet whisper as you bite back a moan or two. you couldn’t hold on any longer as the endless grinding made you crave for more. you push your ass back on the hard bulge you felt, gaining a grunt from the man behind you.

“impatient, hm? poor you.” suguru sighs before trailing two fingers downwards, pulling your panties aside while his other hand discards his boxers. he rubs the tip against your wet entrance, slipping the head in before pulling it back out to rub the mixture of fluids over your cunt—not yet giving you what you want, “you know, i was also thinking about how good you’d look in an apron while pregnant. with a little belly sticking out.”

the extended edging and dirty talk made your brain stop working as it turned all thoughts into lustful ones. all of them revolving around suguru and the pleasure you’re about to receive. you knew he was just giving you a small taste of what other nasty stuff he’s going to whisper in your ear later on. you can’t count how many times suguru’s made you cum from simply his lewd words and smooth voice.

“pl—” before you could start to beg again, suguru pushes his entire length in, the girth of his cock making you grip onto the counter like you’d fall over if you don’t. you bend over a bit and let your tummy rest against the cold surface.

“so submissive.” suguru whispers under his breath, watching you arch your back after he starts to pump into you. his hand trails across the knot made from the laces of the apron, which rests on your lower back. suguru twists the material around his index finger before firmly pulling you back by it—back flush against his chiseled chest, “so obedient. .”

it was only a matter of time before his slow thrusts turn into a quick and rough pounding. you could tell by the way his breathing was turning shallow.

“what do they associate those terms with nowadays? ah, yes, ‘wifey’ material. i feel like that describes you perfectly. fuck—i really can’t wait to make you my wife, put a baby in your tummy and start our own family. you’re going to look so beautiful pregnant. i’m sure of it.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI

gets extremely turned on by you getting mad at him. toji found this out when you were upset by his habit of leaving laundry on the floor. he remembers how you stood there in front of him, blocking the tv from his sight, hand on your hip, finger pointing at his chest with that cute little frustrated expression plastered on your face. for some reason, it made his dick twitch in his pants. the urge to fuck that scowl right off that pretty face of yours was undeniable.

toji would be so calm whilst you’d almost lose your mind at his laid back, or actually, lazy demeanour. like he isn’t taking you seriously at all when you’re mad (he actually isn’t; his mind is too busy thinking about the positions he’s gonna have you in later that day).

idle ‘mhm’s’ and ‘yeah’s’ are all you’re going to get out of toji if he’s seeing you look at him with that adorable pout again—that almost unnoticeable pout you have when you’re upset about something.

“honestly, toji. you could’ve washed this yourself instead of waiting on me to finish the dishes and then put your dirty cup and plate in the sink.” you sigh and reluctantly wash his dirty utensils as well, even though you were in the midst of scolding him.

“it’s really annoying, you know? when i think i’m done doing the dishes. . . .” bla bla bla bla.

well, that was moments ago—you trying to talk some sense into toji. somehow it ended up the other way around; you being put on your back on the nearby table, legs on either side of toji’s head, his tongue lapping up your leaking fluids, his rough fingers digging in the fat of your thighs.

“really thought ya could jus’ talk to me like that without any consequences?” toji sighs, his deep breath hitting your cunt making your muscles tense up, your thighs trying to close around his head. a harsh slap lands right near your clit which causes your hips to jerk up in surprise;

“aht aht,” toji scoffs and disregards any contact with your dripping pussy, leaving it be for the time being, “keep your legs open f’me. all the way or ‘m leaving ya hanging right here.”

you cooperate immediately and spread your legs again whilst your fingers tug at toji’s black locks. his sharp eyes travel from your cunt to your face and he exhales through his nose, almost in a mocking, breathy chuckle;

“bet y’re gonna sulk ‘n pout if i get up and leave again, eh?” toji grins and is almost tempted to do just what he said, simply to see you pout and get mad at him once more. he wants to play that game of patience, but he knows he’ll come out victorious after every round. you’ll be the first one to beg him for forgiveness for your behaviour.

“please, baby— ‘m sorry. sorry.” there it was. you caved in, your frown nowhere to be seen as your face was overridden by desire and need for the man kneeling before you. toji was too good at letting you forget all about your previous sour mood—his tongue working its magic on you was enough to put you under a calming spell.

“mhm. that’s what i thought.” toji hums and smacks your cunt again. this time it was done purely for his own satisfaction; to hear how wet you’re for him, how good he’s been eating you out for the past couple minutes. but most importantly—to make sure you knew who held all power in the end.

toji leans his head down and lets the tip of his tongue glide across your vulva, circling right around your entrance to drive you insane. you could feel him smirk against your cunt in victory;

“ya know, i should make you angry more often just to turn you into a fuckin’ mess afterwards. mhmmm—wanna see that cute tough act ya put on fall apart the moment i put my dick in y’r cunt. gonna have you go from acting like a brat to a slut in under a minute, you jus’ wait and see, doll.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo smut #geto smut #toji smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru smut #getou suguru x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #geto x reader

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 3 months

Text

Dad!Simon Riley x Fem!reader

Simon Riley: Girl Dad

From the request here ; pic screenshot from this video

“Can I come in now?” you ask, popping your head into the nursery as Simon finishes getting your 3 month old daughter Anna ready for the day.

She wriggles in his grasp, babbling away as he mutters in a hushed tone to her about keeping still for daddy.

"Ya think this is funny yeah," he teases her, tickling her chubby tummy before trying to wrangle one of her legs in his grasp.

It’s like music to his soul the way the happy talking sounds she makes touches his heart and it only makes him want to do whatever he can so that she will keep making them for him. That’s why it always takes longer than usual to get her dressed when he does it.

You crane your neck trying to sneak a peak, but his voice stops you. “Not yet,” he says and moves his body to block your view.

He doesn’t want you to see before he’s ready. The outfit is one he picked up the other night on a whim, the moment he saw it he knew Anna had to have it for today, and he wants to get it all on to give the full effect. He finishes straightening her up and tucks her body sitting up in the crook of his arm. She is content as can be being snuggled at the side of his chest, happily clapping her little hands together as they turn to face you.

“Well?” he asks, brow furrowed and body slightly tense as he waits for your critique. “How'd we do?”

You match your daughter’s vibrant smile as you see the outfit Simon’s bought all on his own: a bright yellow corduroy romper with frill capped sleeves, little socks with suns on them, and a big yellow bow to match. Your heart swells full of emotion at the sight; it’s just an outfit, sure, but it really means so much more than the sum of its parts. You know just how far Simon has come in his journey with her and it truly warms your heart to see him so smitten with the little babe this way.

When she first came home, there wasn’t a moment when Simon wasn’t on edge around her, nervous that somehow, someway, he would end up hurting her. She seemed so small to him in those first days, so incredibly delicate as she lay sleeping in her bassinet like the most perfect doll, that he was certain that someone as rough around the edges as him would never be able to be near her without breaking her and that was something he was not willing to risk.

She is his gift, his light, a treasure that came from out of all the years of heartache and hardship and he would never let anything bad ever happen to her.

It took some time and a lot of encouragement on your part, but finally Simon found his confidence and never looked back. Any chance now that he can get he is holding her, changing her, feeding her; anything and everything he can do to show her his love by his actions alone. And whether he gives himself the credit for it or not, he is doing a marvelous job.

“How did I know you'd choose something yellow?” you laugh as Simon glares at you, trying not to crack that fake tough facade.

It is becoming a pattern for him to choose yellow things when it comes to Anna. When she came home from the hospital a few months ago in that yellow onesie, it was like a flip and been switched and that was it; that was her hue from then on. It is strange, Simon never really had a favorite color before that special day and then suddenly yellow was never the same. Now he cannot imagine his life without it.

His face breaks into a smile as he shakes his head, not ready to admit that he is becoming predictable. “Come on, did I do it right or not? Just want to be sure it looks fine on her. We got a big day and I want it ta be perfect.”

Your face brightens as you look her over again. “She looks adorable, Simon,” you reply cheerfully. “You did good, baby. I think you’re really getting the hang of this dad thing.”

Looking down at her in his grasp, he beams with a sense of accomplishment and his tense shoulders ease. Parenting is not something Simon ever thought he could be good at, he never thought he would be the one with the chance at having a family, but each day he is making strides in the right direction to becoming the dad he desperately wants to be.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own today?” you ask as you watch Simon place a delicate kiss to the top of Anna’s small, wispy-haired head. “Cause I can stay if you need me to. All I gotta do is make a call and let them know I can’t go.”

Simon shakes his head and reaches for you with his free arm, pulling you by the wrist until you step close enough that he can wrap his arm around your hip to pull you against him opposite your daughter. “Ya worry too damn much, sweetheart,” he says as his hand finds your cheek, his thumb stroking across the soft skin before he is leaning his face in towards yours.

His full lips catch you in their tender embrace, a kiss that is full of emotion, and in an instant your eyes flutter closed as you relinquish yourself to him. You let all those worries fall away as the gentle touch of his lips, the heat from his breath, the passion flowing through his kiss calms your mind. He conveys so much without ever speaking a single word and in a flash you are put at ease.

Slowly he breaks away, already missing your taste the moment your lips part. Eyes still shut, he rests his forehead against yours, rocking all three of you back and forth a moment as he enjoys the feeling of having his entire life resting comfortably in his arms. You both open your eyes after a time and look down at Anna babbling away to herself, before looking back at each other. This is all still new and unchartered territory, so the both of you are working to figure it all out, but so far it has been anything except bad.

“I promise, I got ‘er. We’re gonna be just fine,” he says quietly. “Isn’t that right, princess?”

At the sound of his voice Anna turns her face to find his and it lights up as it always does whenever her favorite person talks to her. She even employs her recently-learned skill of giggling happily to punctuate that she agrees with whatever it was she was just asked, even though she doesn’t understand a word of it.

Simon kisses your forehead to be sure the worry is completely gone. “It’s just a couple hours on base and then we’ll be home the rest of tha day,” he says. “Besides, might be nice to show her off to the guys. She does look real pretty today.”

“That she does,” you agree as you quickly check the clock on your phone and with a kiss to your baby and one more for Simon you are gone, leaving the pair alone.

Simon gets to work double checking everything in his backpack that he has to bring for her: extra diapers, wipes, bottles, toys, anything he could need while he is out. It’s in his nature, years of military training has come in handy as he is prepared for it all. Satisfied, he turns back to the baby at his side. “Alright princess,” he says, “ready to go see where your dad spends all his time when he ain’t at home?”

The moment he’s walking on base, black backpack filled with essentials strapped to his back, tiny baby girl dressed in bright clothes tucked in his arms, he’s drawing curious stares from everyone he passes. This is the first time she has gone to base with him, so of course people are going to be inquisitive about things. How can they not? Simon looks like… well, Simon: intense, stoic, intimidating. Even in just his black t-shirt and jeans, with his lightweight balaclava on, he is still an imposing figure. Never one to be shy per se, Simon still does not like the attention on him, but since he is with his little angel he doesn’t care. He is proud to show off the best damn thing he has ever helped to create.

The contrast between him and his daughter he knows is jarring and Simon laughs to himself at how absurd this must look for someone like him with such a coarse demeanor to be handling such a precious, sweet thing. Who would have thought that the scary skull-masked military officer would have a family of his own? It is a shock he is sure.

“Seems we’re gonna be the talk ‘round ‘ere today, princess,” he says as he looks down at Anna, secure in his grasp as they continue on towards his office.

She is too busy looking everywhere her little head can turn to be bothered by anything. Being out and about with her father, seeing things she’s never seen before, which is pretty much everything, has her interested and engaged with the sights around her. Those small brown eyes, the ones that are a carbon copy of his, stare on as she silently takes everything in.

He makes it to his office and gets set up, grabbing everything that he needs in one tight spot as he sits Anna up in his lap with a toy for her to play with. She is content for a while as he goes through paperwork, occasionally he gives her a tickle or readjusts her on his thigh, something to show that he hasn’t forgotten she’s there with him.

Barely an hour has passed before Anna begins to whine and fuss and Simon knows what that means: she’s hungry. He grabs the prepped bottle out of the bag and walks to the small microwave in the corner of the room, warming it and testing it on his wrist before he moves back to his desk and sits back down in his chair, cradling her in his arms against his chest as he places the nipple of the bottle in her mouth.

“There ya are, luv,” he comforts her until she settles into him, “I gotcha. Daddy didn’t forget.”

Unknown to Simon, there is an unexpected guest that has just appeared near his office door, though before the person can even knock to announce themselves, they are caught by surprise at the sight before them. Johnny, who’s come to deliver something from Price, stops right in his tracks and stares at the scene before him.

He stands there, watching as Simon tenderly holds this little infant in his arms, quietly rocking back and forth as she drinks her bottle. Every now and again he speaks to her softly, the skin around his eyes tightening to indicate there is a smile underneath the mask. There is an ease to his movements as if he knows exactly what he is doing and it genuinely shocks the young sergeant. Who could have ever guessed that this would be something Simon would be such a natural at?

As Anna is finishing the bottle, Simon looks up as he feels a pair of eyes on him to see Johnny standing there, obscured by the doorframe, silently watching. He sets the empty bottle down on his desk and moves Anna to sit upright on his thigh, leaning her against the crook of his arm so that he can pat and rub her back until she burps.

“Can I help ya, Mactavish?” Simon’s distinct voice calls out, catching Johnny off-guard as he realizes he’s been caught staring.

“Sorry, L.T.” Johnny stutters out as he hurriedly steps inside the office, remembering why he is here in the first place, and sets some papers upon his desk. “Price sent these; says he needs ya to look ‘em over.”

Simon nods in understanding, his hand still rubbing the baby’s back. “Will do,” he agrees, thinking this will be the end of the interaction, but Johnny still lingers. “Anything else?”

“I heard ‘round base that ya had your little one here today. Had to come see if it was true fer myself,” Johnny admits with guilt.

“Well, ya could meet ‘er if ya like, ‘stead a standin’ there just starin’.” Simon nods his head down at the baby. “Johnny, this is Anna.”

The sergeant observes her as she begins to coo, her eyes catching the tattoos along Simon’s muscular arm, her petite fingers tapping and poking along the lines and patterns with delight as she loves to do when he holds her like this. She’s so engrossed that she hasn’t realized there is another person in the room yet.

Johnny clears his throat. “Didn’t mean ta stare, ya know. It’s just a surprise ta see she’s actually real, I guess.”

The original members of the 141 know about Anna, it wasn’t something that Simon could hide once she was about to make her way into the world, but it’s a bit jarring for the Scot to see someone that he had previously known to be so toughened by the world change so drastically. Anyone who gets close enough can see it in the lieutenant’s soft gaze: he adores the little girl and that is… interesting, to say the least.

Simon chuckles at the clear surprise in Johnny’s voice as Anna is still playing with his arm. “Bit absurd, innit Johnny?” he questions while watching her with a prideful twinkle in those brown eyes as she giggles. “Me with a kid? Doesn’t seem possible, does it?”

“Ya seem a natural ta me,” the Scot admits in awe of how easily he makes it seem, as if he was given some secret knowledge that made him know exactly what to do and how to do it. “Then again I don’t know the first thing ‘bout babies. Wouldn’t even know where ta start.”

Simon is reminded about how when he first found out he was going to be a dad he had started reading all the books, researching all the things like a good, capable soldier would, but how all of that prep was nothing in the end as the moment she came into the world everything was turned on its head. It’s not like in the books, it’s so much better and it is days like today that make it worth all the worry and fear and anxiety he had to break through to get here.

“Easier than ya think,” Simon replies with a chuckle as he moves Anna around facing forward now. “Once ya get the hang of it.”

“Don’t tell my girl that,” Johnny laughs back. “Can’t afford one right now.”

Anna’s attention is stirred away from Simon’s tattoos and towards the other man standing in the room with them. She looks up at Johnny in awe, not having much experience with others outside of Simon and you, but Johnny shoots her his classic smile and he has her giggling again in a flash.

“Well hey there Anna, nice ta meet ya,” he introduces himself before turning back to Simon. “I think she likes me.”

“It's your hair she's eyein’,” Simon points out, following her eye line.

Sure enough as soon as Johnny runs his hands over the mohawk cut into his hair her eyes light up. “Can she touch it?” he asks Simon and he nods in agreement.

Johnny falls to one knee in front of the little girl, leans his head down, and lets her put her hand in it. Her short, chubby fingers pull the strands as she laughs, the short, spiky pieces pricking her fingertips. She pulls away quickly before bringing her hand back in again, a sort of game that she repeats a few more times before Johnny gets back to his feet.

“He’s a funny one, ain’t he, princess?” Simon questions his little one as he strokes his thumb around the smile that fills her tiny, round cheeks. “Ya like him, yeah?”

She coos, her little lips forming an ‘o’ so that she sounds like a dove. That’s the closest to a yes as they are going to get.

“I sure ‘ope ya do, seein’ as I’m your dad’s best friend,” Johnny picks, looking to Simon to see his reaction.

He rolls his eyes at the statement, but stays silent and doesn’t correct him. Instead Simon opts to end the conversation there, needing to get finished here anyway so that he can get back home. As much as Johnny’s company isn’t as grating as it first was, he is ready to spend some alone time with the baby before you get back. “Well, if ya don’t mind, I need to get back to it. Say goodbye Anna.”

Johnny agrees, though his mouth twitches like he wants to ask a question, but ultimately decides not to ask it in the end. He turns to leave, but Simon guesses at what he is wanting and calls out behind him so that he stops.

“And ya can tell the others they can come see ‘er if they want,” Simon assures, “I know they’re probably itchin’ to get a glimpse of her too. That’s why they sent ya, yeah? See if I was up for company?”

Johnny turns around and nods his head. Fuck, they’ve been caught. “Will do, L.T.” he says. “Can ya blame us though? She’s pretty damn cute.”

And with that he turns back around. As Johnny leaves the office with the sounds of Simon and Anna at his back, he can’t help but smile to himself at seeing his friend finally have a bit of happiness; if anyone deserves it, it is Simon. Wait till the others see just how much things around here are going to change.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley fluff #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #ghost #cod ghost #ghost call of duty

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venuslore · 6 months

Text

𖥔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𖥔

summary ; coriolanus needs to learn how to relax.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

notes ; smut. 18+ content. minors do not interact! handjob (male receiving). swearing. spoilers for tbosas !

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

coriolanus’ determination to achieve the plinth prize was palpable. the coveted prize, awarded annually to the top students at the academy, granting them money and essentially a free ride through the university, was all he had been focusing on.

countless books lay strewn across his desk, balls of crumpled up paper scattered around the room, as he stood before it. leaning against the old wooden table as his arms firmly held him steady. it was a clear indication that coriolanus had been pushing himself, striving to make every word and every thought count.

while it was something to admire, that didn’t stop the worry that had been seeping in. it wouldn’t have been obvious to most, but to you, someone who spent a lot of time with him, you could see the dark circles that had begun to encapsulate his eyes, the way his hair was slightly disarrayed, or the fact that he hadn’t even completely changed out of his academy uniform. only his bright red pants and blue shirt still firmly clad on his body.

he doesn’t hear you come in, doesn’t hear the thud from you closing the door, or you dropping your bag on the chair in the corner of the room. too enthralled by his textbooks and whatever scribbled nonsense is written in them, that it’s not until you wrap your arms around him from the back that he finally takes notice of your presence.

a smile spreads across his face as he places a hand atop of yours, “what are you doing here?” he asks, surprised but pleased to see you.

you pull him closer, embracing the feeling of holding him in your arms after barely getting to see him that day. the smell of roses filling your senses as you drink him in, “tigris let me in, said you’ve been cooped up in here all afternoon. plus, i… missed you.”

“i really missed you too, my love, but i-”

“-have so much to do. i know,” you cut him off, finishing his sentence. the same sentence you had been getting for weeks now. “which is exactly why you are going to put away the books and spend some time with your girlfriend.”

you can physically see the gears beginning to turn in his head, trying to think of a way to let you down gently. you didn’t take it to heart, you knew how important it was for him to win the plinth prize. you were the only one outside of his family that did.

“you already know you’re going to get that prize, coryo,” you sigh, “nobody even comes close in comparison to how hard you’ve been working for it, but you’ve gotta stop spreading yourself so thin.”

“i know, but tigris and grandma’am-”

“-would agree with me, that you need a night off,” you press a gentle kiss to the back of his shoulder, and pull him in even tighter. his head lulls back to lean against yours, blond curls falling into his face as a sigh leaves his lips. he knew you were right. “you’re always taking care of everyone else, let me take care of you for once.”

he turns to look at you now, eyes big and dewy, a mixture of surprise and understanding as he comprehends the hidden meaning behind your words. however, before he can utter a single word in response, your hands gently glides along his abdomen, gradually tracing its way down to were the band of his pants delicately meets his waist. his breath catches momentarily, captured by a flicker of anticipation, while his unwavering gaze remains fixed upon your own, unyielding and brimming with unspoken emotions.

“you’ve been working so hard,” your voice is barely above a whisper, almost tauntingly, but he hears you all the same, “... let me help you relieve some of that tension.”

coriolanus swallows hard, falling into your hands, both physically and metaphorically, and he surrenders with a nod. it brought a smile to your face to see the hard exterior he put on crumble, become powerless, and just from your mere touch.

his back stiffened as he leaned against you, watching as your hand roamed lower now, trailing down to where he was confined behind his pants. a shaky breath escapes him and he shifts on the balls of his feet, waiting with anticipation as you finally make contact with his now pulsing bulge. nothing separating you except for the thin material of his underwear.

“y/n,” he sighs, your name falling from his lips so gracefully.

you can’t help the small laugh that escapes you, pleased to see the effect you had on him. “shh, don’t think about it, you do enough of that as it is. just relax,” you push on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, as a bright flush spreads across it.

you could feel him getting harder in your grasp, his breaths growing shorter and lower, eyes flailing closed with desperation. your hand runs circles around him, groping him where he needed you the most. it brought you pleasure just to hear the soft moans escaping him, watching him lose control to you.

his chest rises and falls at a dramatic pace, his patience wearing thin, but that was all part of the fun. you wanted him needy, begging for you to touch him.

“fuck, y/n,” he gasps, illiciting a stroke of excitement in you.

deciding that he had enough of you teasing him, you waste no time delving into his underwear and releasing him from the constraints of his pants. an audible sigh of relief comes from coriolanus as you do so, his body shuddering slightly at the warmth of your hand finally making contact.

he rests in your hand, his largely endowed member, all pretty and pink at the tip. you stroke him teasingly, rubbing the end with your finger to gather the pre-cum that had trickled out, using it to help you start stroking him. he shudders from the movement, struggling to stand still as you slowly pump your hand up and down his shaft.

you remove your hand momentarily to collect some of your spit and when you hold him once more he shudders, struggling to stand still, and his hips begin to move involuntarily. if there was one thing coriolanus loved more than you pleasuring him, it was watching you pleasure him.

tucking his chin against his chest, he watches as your hand works his length, pumping back and forth with ease. his hips jut forward, begging for more, until it all becomes to much and his hands lurch forward to grasp onto the table before him, just like they were when you walked in.

“let it out for me, baby,” your voice is reassuring in his ear, sweet and soft, full of promise.

hearing you speak to him in such a way pulls a moan from the back of his throat and he just about loses it. his body tightens at the same time, hips bucking himself into your hand faster as the coil in the pit of his stomach finally bends and breaks.

he clamps his teeth down on his lower lip to muffle his moans, trying to remain quiet so that no one else could hear what the two of you were up to. his knuckles turn white as he gently bangs his fist down on the desk, and it’s only seconds before your hand is warm with his cum.

“fuck me,” he whisper-shouts, eyes clenching shut as his hips jut and dick twitches in your hand.

“that’s my boy,” the comment pulls a small chuckle from coryo as you remove your hand, his white secretion now coating it, “though, it does seem like an awful waste. i guess it’s a good thing i’m not done with you yet.”

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 4 months

Note

Can you do a Clark Kent, with a mate? Maybe she gets jealous of Lois but doesn’t know why; an to get over him she tries to go out with another guy but Clark is like no. Your mine.

.⋆｡Office Crushes｡⋆.

Alpha!Clark Kent x omega!plus size reader

Little bit of Bruce Wayne x plus size reader

Your best friend has an office crush that seems to be becoming something more, maybe you should get your own office romance but not because you’re jealous- obviously

Warnings: a/b/o, jealousy, mutual pining, idiots in love, little bit of angst, protective!clark, fluff

WC: 3.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

It was quite common for any office to have its workers develop a sort of infatuation with each other. A confined space where you spend upwards of 40 hours a week with the same people, feelings are destined to arise, especially when it’s such a large mixture of alphas, betas and omegas. Hormones tend to go wild.

You were proud that you had never developed an office crush, knowing how disastrous it could be if the relationship ended, but you doubted your best friend could say the same. Clark had a big heart that he always wore on his sleeve and tended to attract a lot of romantic interest from practically everyone in the office. And apparently, Lois Lane was the lucky one who finally caught his eye.

A strange churning in your stomach began as you looked over the wall of your cubicle and spotted Clark leaning on the small kitchen counter, head thrown back in laughter as Lois chuckled over her now full cup of coffee. You know you should have seen it from a mile away- they were constantly paired up for articles, their chemistry was unmatched and they were by far the most attractive people in the office. You had even teased Clark on occasion for how often he met up with her after hours for some new lead, calling them dates.

Evidently, you were right. And for some reason, it was really bothering you. You felt physical disgust as Clark bent down to whisper something into the smaller omega’s ear and down right nausea as she placed a hand onto his broad chest to steady herself.

You swallowed down the bitter emotions and forced yourself to return to editing your article though a sour taste remained on your tongue. Maybe it was finally time to get your own office crush and the perfect opportunity had just landed in your inbox.

‘Bruce Wayne Interview- I trust you’ll get this done professionally’. You bit your lip at the offer, not only would an interview with Gotham’s golden boy boost your career, but whenever you had encountered the alpha before, he had always asked you out and you had always brushed him off. It was a win-win for you, and maybe it would stop the inexplicable rage you felt when you looked up and saw the goofy grin on Clark’s face as he sat back down at his desk.

Your nose wrinkled as you caught Lois’s scent clinging to him. Your fingers flew across the keyboard as you quickly sent a response back to your boss, accepting the offer.

You just needed a distraction and then everything would go back to normal.

——————

The tension in the conference room at the top of Wayne Enterprise was so thick you swore you could cut it with a butter knife. You cleared your throat and tugged down your pencil skirt, over-aware of just how high it sat on your plump thighs as you reclined in one of the many expensive seats in the room.

Bruce’s eyes flicked down to where your hands were curled into the material of the skirt and then back to your eyes but not before stopping very briefly at your lips. “Mr Wayne-“ You began again, glancing at your notepad. The small talk had gone well as did the customary chit chat about any new scandal he happened to have instigated and the photos of the both of you for the article.

“Bruce please, I think we’re far beyond that now.” He winked and you swore that his tone held a bit of a teasing purr. Your stomach flipped at the blatant attention from the alpha but it quickly dropped as yet another wave of thick, bitter scent filled the room making you cringe away from the other man standing to the side.

Through a series of several unfortunate events, your usual photographer had fallen ill and his stand-in got hired from right under the company and left so the only person that even had the slightest bit of talent with a camera in the office was forced to come with you today for shots of the billionaire. And in the worst stroke of luck, that person happened to be the very man that ‘inspired’ you to take the job in the first place.

Clark shifted on his feet and you barely repressed an eye roll. He had been very vocal in his disapproval of the whole thing given how often the mogul had put the moves on you but none of his arguments had done anything to deter you, instead they only fuelled the fire.

Bruce’s jaw clenched and you watched in fascination as the muscles beneath his skin moved, although they were not nearly as impressive as Clark’s (you would never admit that out loud). “Well Bruce,” He beamed at you, “Wayne Enterprises has just introduced a new product line that promises to ease the severe heats often experienced by omegas, my question for you is, what about this product is so different from all others on the market that promise the same things yet all others have failed?”

The alpha leaned back in his seat, his muscular thighs spreading slightly, instantly drawing your gaze to the thick bulge that was perfectly hugged by the material of his pants. Your eyes immediately flicked back up to him but given the smirk on his lips, Bruce knew exactly what he was doing.

“I’m actually quite proud of my team for this, they’ve worked tirelessly on development for years and I believe that it really shows. While other products are usually prescribed by doctors in the forms of ointments and perfumes that mimic the scent of an alpha, which almost never work by the way, we have gone in a totally new direction. Instead, omegas can buy these pouches at any pharmacy and when heated, they give off the scent of a pup.” Bruce gestured to the small bags that were barely the size of your palm that sat on the table next to him. They gave the appearance of a miniature version of a microwavable heat pack but he was right, if you concentrated hard enough, you could smell the mixture of milk and flowers that all babies had.

“It is common knowledge that the presence of pups actually help to lessen the effects of a heat whereas the scent of an alpha is far more complex to manufacture and can actually make an omega’s heat worse if they don’t have any other-“ he paused then, his smirk growing as the room seemed to grow smaller, “-tools to help them through it.” You barely suppressed a squeak and quickly ducked your head as if you were checking your notes once more.

You gathered yourself for a moment then spoke again, missing the way that Clark was glaring at the other alpha over your shoulder. “And how affordable are these products?”

“Wayne Enterprises are donating 2 million to women’s shelters throughout Gotham and we plan to sell them for less than $10.” As if anticipating your next question, Bruce licked his lips and continued. “While it is not feasible to gain a profit from such a low price, I would rather give them away to the people that need it but I do have a board that I have to listen to… sometimes.” He winked at you.

Heat crawled up your neck and settled onto your full cheeks. You squeezed your thighs together though you weren’t quite sure if it was because you were attempting to feign arousal or keep him from looking up your skirt. You laid a hand onto your notebook, shutting off your recorder, as you leaned forwards and offered him your other one. “Thank you for being so open to this interview, you have been a hard man to pin down.”

You could feel the way Clark’s body seized as Bruce’s smirk grew and his eyes twinkled deviously. “If it’s by you miss Y/L/N, I would gladly be pinned down any time.” He shook your hand with a firm grip, letting the tips of his fingers brush against your wrist. “For an interview that is.”

He rose to his feet and politely helped you to yours, steadying you with a hand on your waist as you wobbled on your heels. Once he was sure that you were steady, he ducked down and grabbed one of the unopened boxes of Heat Helpers (quite the cheesy name in your opinion) and gave it to you, along with a small piece of cardstock. “Why don’t you take this, a thank you for a great conversation.”

You flipped over the piece of paper to reveal a phone number scrawled on in pen. You gave him a questioning look to which he chuckled. “My number, if you ever want to have a one-on-one with me, with or without the tape recorder.”

You swallowed thickly and stuttered out some kind of polite response before Clark ushered you out of the room, muttering under his breath about being in a time crunch. You were barely able to catch one last, “Anytime miss Y/L/N” before the heavy door slammed shut and you were quite literally pushed into the awaiting elevator by your friend.

As soon as the doors were shut, you were on him. “What was that all about?” You crossed your arms over your chest and gave him a scrutinising look. Clark refused to make eye contact with you, instead he stared at the elevator doors like he was willing them to open.

“He was flirting with you.” You rolled your eyes and looked away from the tall alpha. “And you let him.”

“So what? He’s attractive and available, as am I. It was only natural.” Clark’s shoulders tensed, his grip on his camera tightening until his knuckles turned white. The confined space was now filled with a bitter scent that made your stomach drop and your omega howl in displeasure.

“Why are you so concerned about this, Clark?”

The elevator doors opened with a ping and he quickly walked out. “It’s nothing.” He said and you knew you weren’t going to get anything else out of him until he decided he was done throwing a tantrum.

——————

“So have you called him?” Lois was leaning against the bar next to you, her drink half empty but the flush on her cheeks told you that it wasn’t the first one of the night.

“Called who?” She rolled her eyes like it was obvious.

“Bruce Wayne! He obviously wants you too, I saw the photos Clark took. He’s fucking—what’s the word— enamoured!” You scoff behind your tumbler of whiskey which you had been nursing since Perry gave it to you an hour ago. The whole office had gathered at the bar down the road for an end-of-workweek drink and against your better judgement, you had decided to join.

Clark had been convinced into joining a game of pool, leaving you without anyone to talk to but it’s not like he would anyway. For some stupid reason, the alpha had been giving you the silent treatment for days and it was really starting to piss you off. You regarded Lois with a look but she was far too tipsy to get it.

“He was just flirting, he does it with everybody.” You dismissed it but she scoffed.

“Then why did he ask Perry for your personal number?” Your head snapped up, your eyes wide. “Clark didn’t tell you?” Evidently, your wide open mouth and lack of a verbal response told her everything she needed to know. Suddenly, Lois was very sober, a serious expression on her face.

“We were in a meeting with Perry the day after the interview and Wayne just strolled in like he fucking owned the place. He said how great you were and that he was hoping to get your number for a follow-up interview sometime soon. Clark said he would handle it, I assumed that he would have talked to you.” Her gaze travelled over to said man. “Shit I guess he didn’t.”

You slammed back the rest of your drink and without any sort of conscious thought, stormed over to the group of men huddled around the pool table. “Where the fuck do you get off Kent?” You snarled. Immediately all of the men seemed to find their phones incredibly interesting.

“I’m sorry?” He asked in that way too polite way he did that really meant ‘what the fuck is the matter with you’ but you were having none of it.

“Why didn’t you tell me Bruce asked for my number?”

“There’s a lot of Bruces in the world, you’ll have to be more specific.” He dismissed.

Anger flared in your gut. “You know exactly what I’m fucking talking about.” You snarled, making Clark stand up straight and meet your eyes. In the dim light of the bar, his expression was far darker than you had ever seen before as aggravation rolled off of his powerful body in waves. “You had no right to keep something like that from me!”

“I had every right! He was just going to use you and then never talk to you again! I was protecting you!”

“I didn’t ask you to!” The bar went completely silent as Clark visibly flinched but you were far too upset to care. “You know what, I’m done.” You raised your hands in surrender as you turned and pushed through the stunned crowd, your anger slowly trickling away into sadness.

The night air was like a punch in the gut but it also eased the tenseness in your shoulders. Taking a deep breath, you willed yourself not to cry. It wasn’t like you were in love with Bruce, but even if you were, Clark’s blatant disapproval of him and his distrust in your decisions made you feel incredibly small. And it was breaking your heart.

He was your best friend, he was supposed to be supportive if not a little teasing about your choice in men. He was supposed to console you when things went wrong, not say ‘I told you so’. Why did he get to control your love life while you could only sit back and watch him fall in love with someone else?

Your feet carried you further and further from the bar as the urge to sob was quickly becoming overwhelming. “Y/N!” You turned in time to see Clark throw open the door, the light from inside spilling out onto the street as he endeavoured to chase you.

“Leave me alone!” You cried or at least tried to, but then suddenly, the air was knocked from your lungs and you were looking up at the stars.

The shrill screech of a speeding car came from somewhere on your left as bright headlights illuminated the mass of a man above you before the sound was in the distance and darkness folded over you both. His weight kept you pinned to the slightly damp grass and you had the vague thought that you must be in a park of some kind, even though just a second ago you were standing on a sidewalk- or was it the street?

“Are you okay?” That was Clark’s voice but he had been so far away from you. “Omega?” He sounded distressed and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why.

“Say something!” His huge hands were planted by your head and it was only when one of them cupped your cheek did you find your voice again.

“Clark?” His whole body sagged with relief and he let his forehead rest against yours.

“Thank god. I thought I didn’t get to you in time. The car came out of nowhere and you were so close.” You turned your head away from him, your eyes focusing on the bar… that was across the street… a block away. The glint of something in the grass catches your attention, Clark’s glasses.

He looked so different without them and all your confused mind could think was just how blue his eyes were when they were unobscured by the glass.

His button up shirt which was normally so perfectly done up was unbuttoned, exposing the tight material of something navy beneath. “What?” But you couldn’t get out anymore, not when he shifted his weight, exposing even more of what was covered by his shirt and you were stunned into silence.

The red ’S’ practically glowed as realisation dawned into you. His brows scrunched in confusion, following your gaze. “I- I can explain.” Your head spun as he yanked you to your feet, though his hands never left your skin like he needed the reassurance that you were still there.

“I was going to tell you but then I realised how much danger it would put you in and if you were hurt in any way because of me, I couldn’t even stand the thought. And then we had known each other for months and Lois said you would feel betrayed so I kept it a secret-“ You placed an open palm onto his chest, stopping him in his tracks. His mouth snapped shut with a click.

“Is this why you were acting so weird about Bruce? You thought he would hurt me because of you?” Your voice wobbled with emotions as your nails dug into his warm peck.

Clark’s growl was shocking in its intensity. The vibrations shot up your arm as the ground shook beneath your feet with its power. “No, he would never even dare to fucking touch you. He knows who you belong to.” Your heart skipped a beat, this possessiveness was nothing you had ever seen from the soft-spoken reporter before. You knew that you should find it disgusting considering how he had been treating you but instead your veins filled with warmth.

“And who is it that I belong to? There’s no claiming mark on my neck.” His grip on your hips tightened which should have been a warning but the anger was quickly returning now that the foggy haze of danger had passed. “If I can remember correctly, you’ve been courting Lois, not me.”

“I’ve been asking her for advice on how to ask you out!” He said, exasperated. “I just couldn't find the perfect time to do it.”

“You’re an idiot.” You retorted before grabbing his black curls in a tight grip and yanking his mouth to yours. His body tensed but then quickly melted into you, groaning against your lips.

Maybe you did have an office crush but it’s not like you’d actually admit it.

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logicalbookthief · 1 year

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I adore the fact that in so many other stories, Mob Psycho would’ve concluded with the World Domination Arc. After all, it has the big, climatic battle with the ensemble cast versus the overarching villain. They win, and everyone goes home, all’s well that ends well, right?

Except the story doesn’t end there. Because Mob has yet to reckon with this internal, antagonist force that has haunted the narrative since the very beginning: Himself.

When Mob comes face-to-face with ???% at long last, he says: I am Kageyama Shigeo.

This isn’t a conflict with a villain, or another esper, or even a separate entity that resides inside Mob’s body. It is something far more personal, and far more relatable.

???% is the culmination of everything Mob’s held back. Not just emotions like anger or fear. Even his desires, like his crush on Tsubomi. All muted by his efforts not to hurt anybody with his powers. Mob has come such a long way, but he’s still restraining his feelings so tightly that the moment his control wavered, ???% took over.

But the conflict isn’t the destruction ???% is wreaking just by walking through the city. The conflict is Mob refusing to accept this part of himself he’s suppressed for so long.

And ???% is right! Every attempt to stop him thus far has failed. Because he isn’t meant to be stopped. Mob has to reconcile with the parts of himself that he won’t acknowledge.

And it’s the most difficult thing Mob has ever had to do! This is the part of himself that hurt his brother; that hurt his friends and decimated so much of the city. Reconciling with it means accepting that Mob hurt those people, whether he wanted to or not. It means accepting all facets of himself, even ones he’s not proud of or wishes he could change but cannot.

Mob has grown so much in this latest season alone, he hasn’t had any explosions, and he felt confident enough in his own abilities to actually ask Tsubomi out, which was something the Mob of two seasons ago could never imagine.

But what about the advice Reigen gave him for his confession to Tsubomi?

His true self, in its totality. This is what Mob has struggled with the entire story. This is why his confession to Tsubomi is the culmination of his character arc. Expressing his feelings means exposing his true self to someone else, even with the fear of rejection.

And while we’re on that subject. Let’s talk about Reigen. Right after he gives this advice to Mob, he says this about himself:

It is the height of irony (and tragedy) that Mob and Reigen admire each other’s strengths so much, yet have no idea they struggle with the same exact fear: that if the people they cared for found out who they truly were, they would reject them. It is why Reigen relies on lies and why Mob suppresses himself.

It is also why Reigen has never actually witnessed ???% until now. It is why Mob has never heard Reigen admit the truth about himself out loud.

And that’s why the final arc feels like such a gut-punch in the best of ways. What is harder than accepting who you are, and hoping for others to accept you as you are? Even at your most deceitful, or your most destructive? Mob Psycho ends with the Confession Arc because that’s the very heart of the story.

#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #mp100 spoilers #mp100 s3 spoilers #kageyama shigeo #reigen arakata #tearing up as I typed this don’t mind me #I’m a manga reader too but seeing this animated finally got to ne #and then the reigen parallels hit me!!!#I’m not Ready for next episode

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iceunhie · 5 months

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JEALOUSY IS A FICKLE THING...

ft. al-haitham, ayato, wriothesley, lyney

warnings : gender neutral, jealousy, mentions of suggestive content on wriothesley's part, established relationship, you are wriothesley's spouse. erm slight dark content but it's okay it isn't implied, we need more men like them in the world

mhie's notes : i used the wheel randomizer for this i hope everyone's proud i write for anyone other than scara ijbol

al-haitham’s jealousy is muted; quiet and hardly noticeable, often non-existent unless you have the fortune of knowing him deeply enough (kaveh). make no mistake, al-haitham trusts you, he simply doesn’t trust those that make moves on you when he was clearly right there. when some bothersome person disrupts you both on a simple date, which is already a clear red warning sign, for the acting grand sage hardly has any time to spare; naturally, his reaction would be to put a complete stop to any and all the flirty remarks towards you with a flat tone.

it’s not the content of the words that make the person making a move on you leave, but the slight menacing edge to al-haitham’s voice, a sign that if they do intend to cross the line more than necessary, he won’t just be using his words.

most would back off after a simple talking-to, but in the case that person doesn’t cease their advance, you can best bet your lover is steering you away immediately. dendro archon forbid they touch you or make you uncomfortable in the slightest, though, or else al-haitham has no qualms contacting the matra or taking matters in his own hands, but this scenario hardly happens often, given his seamless ability to get to the heart of the conflict and uprooting it so that no problems arise.

he’d most likely opt to diffuse the situation by straight-up telling any admirer of yours that you were taken and most definitely not up for grabs.

“they are my lover. since you’re clearly crossing their preferred boundaries and seem ignorant of the fact, i’d advise you to stop making them feel any more uncomfortable.”

though it’s truly difficult to get al-haitham jealous due to the excellent control of his emotions, tempered by his rational thinking, the most you can see of it is how he seems to stay closer to you than usual and the simple but firm link of your fingers as you both continue on your days.

(but if you notice him putting a subtle hand on your waist as you both walk, do try not to comment on it, will you?)

for ayato… er, why have you even bothered? if one even has the nerve to flirt and court the yashiro commissioner’s own partner, then that’d make you either not inazuman, or simply an idiot. it’s no exaggeration, but a simple fact. ayato is by no means a jealous man, but he doesn’t like seeing those not worthy of you hover around you with such impure and unwelcome intentions, so he tells ayaka and thoma, but really, he just wants to call the shuumatsuban on any who dares to even look at you the wrong way.

he bides his time well, approaching your admirer with a genial smile and elegant composure and indulges in small talk, but there’s a chill in the air and the looming feeling of doom as well as his smile that seems to see through any and all actions. its terrifying, really.

it also doesn’t help that he’d be extremely touchy in these moments, seeking to link arms with you and yes, even going as far as to rest his head on your shoulder, a clear indication of exactly how close you two really are. after you introduce him as your lover, at this point, it’s likely that the person making a move on you would back off and run away immediately, for how could they even dare to compete when it’s the yashiro commissioner himself who they’re facing?

he’d gloat silently afterwards in the comfort of his own quarters though, the sight of your admirer cowering like a dog getting cornered by a wolf, ah, truly satisfying. though thoma would eventually tell him to tone down the ‘borderline evil chuckling.’

“my love, have you been well? hm? the change of topic? ah, well, as the saying goes; ‘out of sight, out of mind,’ yes? no need to think about those that’ll only bother you. now, come here, there’s a new hotpot ingredient i’d like you to try… haha, relax, it isn’t dango this time.”

another one with a terrifying reputation and terrifying influence to make even the most daring of your admirers quake in their boots. wriothesley is amused - he gets that there’s hardly any window for romance in such a dreary place like the fortress, but even going as far as to court the duke of meropide’s own spouse? really funny, honestly.

but after the initial wave of amusement, he does take this time to immediately show off his status as your husband, showing off the matching wedding rings and even having the well-deserved nerve to smile and continue on rambling about your marriage, which is clearly a very happy one, judging by the way he presses a lingering kiss to your cheek while maintaining clear eye contact towards the person.

you’d have to wrangle in your husband when you both sleep tonight though, because wriothesley has made it his personal mission for any and all those who wish to covet you to show them that you were his spouse, and no other held your heart or your affections. when morning rises the next day, you promptly leave with a very visible bruise on your neck, and an especially relaxed and happy duke at your heels. most would look away in embarrassment, including your admirers, so that’s that.

“hah, that'll show any of those who have way too much time on their hands to lay their hands off my spouse. what? too brutal? well, sweetheart, what did you expect?”

oh my god lyney. haiz this enigmatic magician… magicians are all about masterfully weaving lies and illusions in order to perform to the top standard, and it's no surprise lyney also uses such methods when dealing with any and all annoyances in your relationship. he can be perfectly fine on the outside, but he has always been good with keeping his more sinister and less than socially acceptable side in check.

in fact, chances are he’d probably charm away your admirer with his own tricks; a wink their way and honeyed suave words to ease their love-struck heart and in seconds your admirer is up and away, promising to leave.

this often gets you disgruntled and in awe of his ‘performance,’ but lyney will always stave off your complaints or questions with a rainbow rose or some other fancy trick of his up his sleeve and guide you away, person courting you forgotten. all according to plan….

in all honesty, lyney isn't as composed about it as he seems. lynette can see it at a glance after you two have separated after the encounter. it shows in the way he broods silently for some time, preferring to divert the attention of such a sore subject away and going about endlessly about what new gifts he might give you or what seat was best for viewing, read: what seat was closest to him, for that matter. her brother was truly such a pain in the neck, and lynette does thank you for making him happy, but really, at this rate, you'd drive him insane by how much sway you hold over him.

“and just a trick of the light here and-! ta-da! a rainbow rose, symbolizing just how much i do adore you, way more than any other! …so don't try to pay attention to them, okay? after all, you've already caught this magician’s eye and heart~”

he can still be pouty and extremely clingy after the encounter though, which carries on whenever he performs any of his shows, where lyney always, always makes one of his acts feature you, be it a simple guess your card trick or his favorite, the one act where he leads you to land up on stage and give him a kiss based on the card’s instructions, it's all to show just how wrong anyone else other than him would make you as elated as lyney does.

@ MHIIEEE 2023 : do not copy, repost or plagiarize my work.

btw can you tell i had fun writing for al-haitham despite the fact that i have never even been remotely interested in him in the entirety of the game

#mhie's spirals #astronetwrk #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #al haitham x reader #lyney x reader #wriothesley x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato x reader #al haitham #lyney genshin

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