#just so that i can prolong the inevitable

[crystallinestars]

How They React to Your Death

My HCs about how I think the Genshin boys would react to your death. I wanted to write Kaeya too, but ran out of steam.

This month has been terrible to me, so I was in the mood for angst. I don't know how well these turned out, but they were fun to think about.

Characters: Alhaitham, Childe, Heizou, Kaveh, Lyney, Neuvillette, Venti, Wanderer/Scaramouche, and Wriothesley

WARNING:

Reader has death descriptions. Some are more graphic than others, but I don't get into the nitty gritty details.

Spoilers for the backstories of all the mentioned boys.

MAJOR SPOILERS for Act V of the Fontaine Archon quest in Neuvillette's part.

Childe's part contains mention of suicidal thoughts.

Kaveh's and Venti's parts contain alcoholism

🎧 Alhaitham

Despite Alhaitham’s considerable wealth, no amount of money could cure your Eleazar sickness. His money could only buy treatment that prolonged your life a little bit, but ultimately your many years of battling the illness ended when he got news from the doctors that you had passed away in your sleep.

Alhaitham had accepted the news fairly quickly. He knew your death was inevitable, could see you slowly wasting away each time he visited you in the hospital over the past few months. So it was no surprise to him when the day finally came. The other patients and staff thought it strange how Alhaitham had no visible reaction to the news, but some chalked it up to shock when in truth the Scribe was simply accepting of that fact. There was no use denying something that already happened.

When Alhaitham came home that day, the house felt silent and empty. It reminded him of how the house felt when his grandmother passed away when he was younger. The sensations were similar. However, he did not cry over your death. Instead, he carried on his life as normal, or as close to it as he could now that you were no longer a part of what he considered ‘normal’.

At first glance, people thought that Haitham was unaffected by your death. Nothing about him changed. Not his mannerisms, his quality of work, or his expression. He remained the same reserved, stoic Scribe who had no time for trivial nonsense or extra work. He also never talked about you to others aside from confirming their question if you were truly gone. Alhaitham was like a well-oiled machine that worked efficiently like clockwork, keeping up the same even rhythm.

What they don’t see is how he comes home with the expectation of hearing your voice greet him upon entering, only to be faced with a defeating silence that makes his heart sink. They don’t know that Alhaitham wakes up throughout the night, expecting to find you snuggled up next to him in bed the way you used to before your sickness got worse, and you had to be hospitalized. However, you weren’t there no matter how many times he looked towards your side of the bed, and the Scribe could only sigh and try to fall back asleep while ignoring his aching heart.

No one sees how Alhaitham gets too lost in his books in the mornings and accidentally makes two cups of coffee instead of one due to force of habit. Or how, for once, he finds the silence of his house bothersome without your voice and the sounds of your activities resounding within the walls, and it’s enough to distract him from reading. He could be found reading at the House of Daena and Puspa Café more often from then on.

During his afternoon naps, Alhaitham sneaks back home and cradles your favorite blanket to mimic the sensation of holding your soft body in his arms the way he used to when you joined him for naps. He listens to recordings of you talking with him just so he can hear your voice again. He was glad he made the decision to record your voice at the hospital before you became too weak to speak. It gave him the chance to hear you one more time even if the sound of your voice made his chest hurt so much that he occasionally had to stop the recording to collect himself.

Nobody sees how Alhaitham finally picks up the fiction books you recommended him because they were your favorite. He prefers non-fiction, but these books are the last things he has left through which he could connect to your mind and way of thinking. He reads them all cover-to-cover even if he finds the story lacking or the writing not to his taste. He will learn to treasure each and every word because you once did.

What someone might see, as Kaveh did when he moved in with the Scribe, is a bookshelf filled with a few journals, a thick book with an emerald cover, and an assortment of fiction books that exist nowhere else in the house. Alhaitham never talks about these books unless asked, but their well-worn covers are a sign of frequent use, and sure enough, one can catch him reading a rare fiction book during one specific month each year.

🐋 Childe

You went missing after going out to collect some firewood in the woods near Childe’s home. A search party was arranged to find you with Childe in the lead, and he was also the first one to find your remains. Your body had been torn apart, blood and innards splattered across the snow, no doubt the work of some rifthounds. Usually, Childe would relish in such a gory sight, but not this time. Not when it’s your blood and flesh painted in the snow.

The sight leaves him numb. He’s numb when the search party comes to retrieve you, numb when he sees your parents weeping over your gruesome death, and numb when he takes on the duty of exterminating every rifthound he finds around Morepesok.

He wants to cry too, to grieve for you the way he needs, but refrains. He doesn’t want to appear weak and unreliable when his younger siblings mourn and cry over your death. You were like family to them, and your death broke their little hearts to pieces. Childe didn’t want to burden his siblings further by breaking down in front of them. He needed to remain a reliable older brother who could support them through this tough time, even when his own heart bled and he cried in his sleep when he dreamed about you.

Childe’s underlings noted that the Eleventh Harbinger became colder and more irritable after your passing. Any mention of your name would garner the speaker a harsh glare, and if Childe assumed what said person said about you was disrespectful, he didn’t hesitate to start a fight and beat the other person within an inch of their life. He became violent and unhinged, much like how he used to be when he returned from the Abyss as a fourteen-year-old boy.

Childe knew his behavior was irrational, and it pained him to see even his own family fear him due to his violent actions. He felt restless. Spending time at home among your belongings summoned feelings of longing and sadness, but even so, he couldn’t bear to throw anything away. He lived among the ghosts of your existence, however, it drove him mad with grief.

Childe needed an outlet for his emotions, so he took to fighting monsters and other strong opponents. He became even more reckless in battle. If before, the Harbinger sought out strong enemies to test his mettle against them and grow stronger as a result, now he sought out an opponent that would be worthy of taking his life.

Childe didn’t want to abandon his family. He loved them dearly and wanted to see his siblings grow up to be happy and successful people, but life without you felt so hollow. A part of him wanted to return to his family, but the sense of his family feeling incomplete never left him. You were just as much of a family to him as his siblings and parents were. He had plans to start his own family with you. But now… now, a part of him yearns to reunite with you in the afterlife. He promised he would stay by your side no matter what, and Ajax is not one to break his promises.

🔍 Heizou

Heizou was one of the first to hear about your stabbing that occurred in an Inazuman alleyway late that evening. You were rushed to a doctor to have your wound treated, but the robber who attacked you hit a vital area. Your blood loss was colossal, and it wasn’t long after arriving at the doctor’s that you succumbed to your injury.

To Heizou, the news brought on a sense of deja vu. He’s already lost a friend to crime in the past, and now he lost you to crime, too. The knowledge made him furious and heartbroken. He was angry at the robber for stabbing you just so he could steal some money that you didn’t want to part with, and he was angry at himself for failing to prevent this. After his friend passed away, Heizou swore to nip crime in the bud by discouraging criminals from committing crimes with the threat that he would find and capture them no matter what without fail. But what good did his resolve do if you still died because of an armed robber?

The heartache and guilt he felt ate away at him as the memory of your ashen face during your last few moments haunted him. He lost you. Never again would he get to spend time with you and make you laugh, kiss and hug you, or tell you he loved you.

His anger drove him to capture the murderer in record time, but hearing the criminal’s subsequent sentence for theft and murder didn’t comfort the detective. No amount of jail time would ever atone for the loss of your life.

After that day, Heizou lost his playful demeanor, becoming somber and reserved. He threw himself into his work, feeling pressured to capture as many criminals as he could in as little time as possible. However, his grief and exhaustion caused his mind to dull and make mistakes while investigating clues. It got to the point where Kujou Sara had to forcibly send him on vacation so he could take a break and properly process your death.

Despite his protests, Heizou knew he wasn’t much use in his current state, so he took this free time to visit your family and mourn together with them. He apologized for not doing a better job of protecting you, fully expecting your parents to lay blame on him for not protecting their child. To his surprise, your parents didn’t blame him at all. They even thanked him for catching the murderer and helping them to feel a little more at peace. Heizou’s interaction with your family helped him feel a tiny bit less guilty about your death.

The experience left him feeling a little less broken, so in the following days he sorted through your belongings in your shared home. He packed away some items to return to your parents, some things he put in storage, and others he gave away that he remembered you wanting to get rid of. A few of your items he kept for himself, one of which was a scarf you mentioned you bought because it was the same shade of green as his eyes which reminded you of him.

Heizou wore your scarf as a keepsake and good luck charm and would hardly be seen without it when he finally came back to work. What once served as your reminder of him, now served as his reminder of you, the person he loved with his whole being. But with the memories of you came the reminder of how you died. Though the memory was painful, it helped Heizou work up the will to keep pursuing his goal of eradicating crime. Even when the case was extremely tough with conflicting clues, your scarf would remind him to not give up, to not let another incident like yours happen again, and Heizou would persevere. He would continue to persevere no matter how long it took because he didn’t want innocent lives like yours to be snatched away so cruelly. Maybe one day, he will see you in the afterlife and proudly tell you all about how he achieved his dream. Until then, he will work hard to be worthy of the title of Inazuma’s best detective.

🍷 Kaveh

Kaveh had a lot of work to do. He was saddled with creating drafts for another large project while also trying to work on the commission for constructing a library in Aaru village for the children. Wanting to help alleviate his burden, you offered to take the finished drafts over to Aaru village yourself so he could focus on finishing up work for his other project. Kaveh tried to object, saying you really didn’t need to trouble yourself on his behalf, but you insisted, expressing your desire to help him finish his work sooner so the two of you could spend more time together again. After some deliberation, he let you go to the village by yourself, confident that you could make the trip since you accompanied him there several times before.

A few days later, Kaveh received news that you had died on your return trip from the desert. When he heard the cause of your death, his stomach roiled. You perished in quicksand just like his father. You died doing something for his sake, just like his father did.

Whatever future plans he was building together with you, whatever progress you made in helping him slowly heal from his trauma, it all came crashing down around him. Your death reopened old wounds Kaveh was only starting to heal from, as well as left new scars that tormented him every waking moment.

The first few weeks, Kaveh couldn’t stand to be in your shared home. It was full of memories of you, and each and every one of your belongings would stab at his heart like a blade. Moreover, the house felt so silent without you around. It reminded him of when his mother left for Fontaine, leaving him alone in a house too big for only him to live in. Now, he was reliving that moment all over again, but it was worse this time because, unlike his mother, he would never see you again.

Kaveh also couldn’t stand to look inside his sketchbooks. The pages were covered in various sketches of you, and looking at them only made the anguish and guilt grow in him tenfold. He blamed himself for your death, attributing it to being his fault just like he attributes his father’s death as his fault too. No matter what anyone says to console him, he will never stop believing it’s all his fault.

Fueled by guilt and self-loathing, Kaveh spent several weeks visiting Lambad’s tavern practically every day. One could even say he lived there since the architect seldom went home. He used what little money he had to buy alcohol, especially of the stronger kind. He wanted to numb the pain in his heart and to pretend that you weren’t really gone from this world. The alcohol helped to muddle his mind until his intoxicated brain conjured happy memories of you together, and Kaveh would mumble your name in a drunken haze. Other times it didn’t help, and Alhaitham, Cyno, or Tighnari could often find a drunk Kaveh quietly crying while slumped over a table and trying their best to drag him home while listening to his drunken babble of self-loathing and regret.

It will take a long time for Kaveh to feel okay again, and even then, he will never be the same optimistic and cheerful person he used to be. You were his muse, the one who made him feel like maybe he was deserving of love after all. But with you gone, he lost his creative spark. His designs no longer held the same extravagant and artistic flair they used to. Now, they’re more tame by comparison. With your passing, you took with you the little bit of joy he felt towards the world, and it seemed more bleak than it used to be when he was with you.

Kaveh refused to seek out love after your death. He’s lost too many people he held dear and has been left alone over and over again. The pain of being left behind and of feeling like he will only bring misfortune to those he cares about, made him seal off his heart. He doesn’t want to let people close to him like that again, and neither does he want to replace you. You were, and still are, very special to him.

Despite numerous years going by after your passing, Kaveh never forgot you, and he didn’t want your memory to be forgotten either. He built an art school and dedicated it to you in honor of being the one who inspired him so much in his creative endeavors. He hopes that your name will live on and continue to inspire future generations of artists long after he is gone from the world.

🎩 Lyney Having grown up in the House of the Hearth with Lyney and Lynette, the twins were practically like family to you. Though admittedly, Lyney and you developed romantic ties rather than familial ones the more you got to know each other. It was no surprise to anyone when the two of you became a couple, and Lynette even encouraged it.

Being a member of the Fatui, you were often sent out on dangerous missions to infiltrate enemy territory and report your findings back to Arlecchino. You were good at your job and had major successfully completed missions under your belt, but even the best slip up sometimes. After infiltrating enemy headquarters, you regularly reported your findings back to the House, however, one day the correspondence stopped. You went completely silent. The thought of you being caught immediately crossed Lyney’s mind, but he was hopeful that as an experienced agent, you would manage to find a way out somehow. You always have in the past, and after having worked together with you during joint missions, he saw first-hand how capable you were. To pass the time, he focused on polishing a magic trick he wanted to show you upon your return.

Days go by, and just as the magician is about to lose his patience and run off to try and find you, news about your body washing up on a riverbank reaches his ears. The heartbreak Lyney experiences upon hearing the news is indescribable. He felt lost, disoriented, and anguished. A part of him refused to believe the facts, but after witnessing the gruesome sight of your corpse, he had no choice but to face reality.

You were dead.

Lyney wondered at length about the cause of your death, and while his own guesses made his stomach knot, the autopsy report he read a few days later made him livid. Numerous torture and abuse marks were found on your body. It seemed that the enemy had captured and tortured you, hoping to force you to spill some of the Fatui’s secrets. Judging by the severity of the most recent wounds, you must have kept quiet because more brutal torture methods were used on you until the enemy figured out they wouldn’t get anything out of you, and disposed of you. Lyney knew how loyal you were to your family. You would never betray them even at the cost of your own life, but in that moment, he really wished you would have treasured your life more. Maybe then you could have survived. Maybe then he would have had the chance to hold you in his arms and tell you he missed you while you were gone. Maybe he would have had an opportunity to show off the magic trick he created specifically for your eyes only. But now, he’ll continue to miss you until the day death comes for him too. Lyney’s initial reaction upon hearing of your torture is overwhelming fury. Lynette had to hold him back from recklessly running off to take revenge against the enemy. It took a lot of reasoning on her part, but eventually, her brother calmed down.

Once his bout of anger passed, Lyney broke down. Lynette didn’t hide her own tears as she held her brother in her arms while he cried. The siblings both missed you dearly and mourned your loss, but Lyney took your death especially hard. He felt broken. One of his most precious people was taken from him in such a cruel manner, and the mere thought of how you must have spent your last few waking hours made him feel horrible.

He was anguished and angry, and the potent concoction of negative emotions weighed down on his heart and mind. Gone was his cheerful smile and outgoing attitude, replaced with a cold and somber frown. His calculative side took center stage. Though his initial burst of outrage passed, he wouldn’t give up on his desire for revenge until the act had been carried out. Aside from the twins, Arlecchino also refused to take your death lying down. You were her precious child, someone she put in a lot of love and effort to raise, and this transgression angered her as much as it angered Lyney. Together with Arlecchino, Lyney and Lynette infiltrate enemy headquarters and make every person a part of that organization pay. The magician ensures that the perpetrators experience the same pain you went through during your torture, and by the time they’re done, not a soul is left alive.

Even after exacting revenge, Lyney barely feels a smidge better. Though your captors have been neutralized and won’t hurt anyone the way they hurt you ever again, it doesn’t satisfy Lyney. At the end of the day, all he wants is to have you back in his life. He consoles himself with pieces of your clothing. Your clothes smelled like you, and Lyney hugged one of your items every night, breathing in your scent and soaking the material with his tears as he quietly cried. It takes a long time for Lyney to get himself together and act like himself again. Though he could easily put on a fake smile for his audience, his heart still aches inside. He misses you no matter how many months go by, and Lynette has her hands full comforting him when he breaks down at night and cries about how much he wants to see you. Lyney would have had an easier time accepting your death if you had passed away more peacefully, but knowing you were tortured to death will forever haunt him.

Once he feels more like himself, Lyney incorporates the magic trick he originally wanted to show you upon your return into his magic shows. He only performs it during special occasions so it would leave a great spectacle upon his audience. It was once made to awe you, but now it awes his audience, and a part of him feels some semblance of catharsis in knowing he could inspire others to feel the same joy you made him feel using just this trick. At times like these, Lyney feels as if a part of you was still there with him, enjoying the show he secretly dedicates in your honor.

⚖️ Neuvillette

You were visiting your friend Navia in Poisson, when the Primordial Sea flooded the area and caused a great catastrophe that took the lives of many of its residents. Neuvillette was aware you were in Poisson when the disaster struck, and he tried to get there as quickly as he could to check on you. He would have arrived there immediately were it not for the pressing matters he had to settle prior. He hoped the Traveler and Paimon would find you and keep you safe since they knew you were the Iudex’s beloved.

When he finally made it to Poisson, to his morbid surprise, he found neither you nor Navia, but some Fatui members helping to mitigate the damage. When he asked about your whereabouts, he was told that nobody had seen you. Immediately, his thoughts ventured to the worst scenario, but he refused to believe in his fears until he could get confirmation. He held out hope that you were alright, and went in pursuit of Navia and the Traveler, hoping that maybe you were with them, or they knew what happened to you.

It wasn’t until he was saving Navia from getting dissolved in the Primordial Sea water, did he catch a glimpse of your face. You were trying to protect Navia from certain death, along with Silver and Meluse. At the time he was too anxious about saving Navia to fully register the implication, but an unsettling thought sprang in his mind that maybe you really were— No, he didn’t want to accept it.

When Navia regained consciousness, Neuvillette asked her about your whereabouts. Her answer pierced through him like an ice-cold lance. With tears in her eyes, Navia recounted how you were helping Silver and Meluse rescue the residents of Poisson when the Primordial Sea flooded in, and how she saw your body dissolve in the water along with her loyal subordinates with her own eyes. The news settled in Neuvillette’s stomach like a boulder, causing it to sink and make him feel nauseous. Dread filled him, but he could only muster a quiet “I see…” and stare off into the distance. He felt crushing sadness, but he wasn’t given time to properly process his emotions and your death until he managed to make it out of the ruins.

That evening, Fontaine was hit by a torrential downpour that lasted several days. The rain fell in heavy sheets, flooding the streets and urging most of the citizens to seek shelter in their homes. Only the Chief Justice had the gall to stand outside and let the rain seep and soak through his clothes.

Neuvillette let the water droplets cascade down his face, imitating the tears he wished to shed as the realization that he would never see you again settled in. It was strange. Though he was on land, each waking moment he was pursued by a constant feeling of drowning. His chest felt heavy as if burdened by a great weight that made each breath he took feel like a herculean task.

Neuvillette felt a lot of emotions he couldn’t find the words for. He was frustrated and angry that innocent civilians had died in the flood because nothing was done to prevent it. So many people died. You died. If nothing else, he wanted to get justice for your and the others’ deaths.

However, Furina refused to provide answers to his questions despite his probing and insistence that now was not the time to keep secrets that could potentially help prevent an even greater catastrophe. That was when he turned to seeking aid from his companions, in the hopes that Fontaine could still be saved. Neuvillette lost and gained many things in those few days. The citizens of Fontaine were freed of their curse, and Neuvillette had obtained a position of complete authority, however, it all came at the cost of the lives of innocent civilians, Focalors’s life, Furina’s mental state, and… your life. Those were great prices to pay, and Neuvillette mourned each and every sacrifice.

Now that he had some time to himself to process his feelings, Neuvillette recognized that what he felt was grief and longing. He wanted to see you at least one more time, to feel you in his arms again. To have you taken from him so suddenly was too painful. He never got to tell you one last ‘I love you’, and he could only hope that his words reach you wherever your consciousness might be now. Fontaine will see frequent rainfall in the coming months. It won’t be easy for Neuvillette to get over your death, and some part of him will always ache and yearn to see you again. But one thing he can do is strengthen his resolve to make Fontaine into a nation that both you and Focalors would be proud of. A nation where tragedies like these will never happen again.

🍃 Venti

Venti liked to climb up on high places like his statue in front of the Favonius church, the rooftop of the Cat’s Tail, or the great tree at Windrise. Today, you found him high up in the tree, absentmindedly strumming a new tune on his lyre. Wanting to surprise the bard, you tried your best to climb the tree as quietly as you could, but right as you were about to pop up and surprise him, the branch you were on snapped, and with a heart-stopping shriek, you plummeted down to the ground.

Your scream alerted Venti. He felt your presence before you even started climbing the tree, but he failed to foresee the danger until it was too late. He didn’t react fast enough to summon a gust of wind to safely lower you down. The sickening crunch of your skull hitting the ground made his stomach roil, and for a brief moment he felt as if the blood in his veins turned to ice. He felt frozen in place.

Snapping out of his momentary stupor, Venti rushed to your side to check on you, but the enormous pool of blood blooming around your lifeless body made him throw up.

Not again. He lost someone he loved once more. The painful emotions of losing you triggered a cascade of memories of seeing the broken body of that one boy he called a friend thousands of years ago. The same boy whose face he now wore as a way of honoring his memory and giving him an opportunity to live out his dreams of freedom through Venti.

Venti felt that same feeling of heavy emptiness once again as he cradled your lifeless body in his arms, your blood smearing the white sleeves of his shirt. One of the bard’s hands cradled your still-warm cheek, and he wept. To have you taken away so easily through such a small accident… it was too much.

Venti didn’t attend your funeral. He couldn’t bear to. However, he forced himself to watch from a distance as your loved ones gathered around your grave. He fully empathized with their grief.

In the following days, one could often find Venti at a tavern. He started with Angel’s Share, but after consecutive days of heavy drinking and drunken ramblings about how remorseful he felt and how you deserved better, Diluc put a stop to Venti’s visits. The Anemo Archon wasn’t getting any better from drinking himself into a stupor until he could barely hold himself upright. It was heartbreaking to see.

Even after being banned from the Angel’s Share, Venti would visit other taverns in the city and rinse and repeat. He so badly wanted to numb the pain in his heart and forget the awful memory of your lifeless body. Only after several bans did Venti finally stop coming to the city altogether. He disappeared for a while, and nobody was able to find him. Only after many weeks did the bard suddenly pop up in the town square with his lyre in hand.

During his absence, Venti wrote a few songs as a way to cope with his grief, and after a while, finally felt well enough to play them. As a bard, he was well-known in Mondstadt for playing cheerful and beautiful tunes, but this time his melodies were melancholic, even sad. They listened to him sing about a love he can no longer say ‘I love you’ to anymore, someone he can no longer forge new memories with and can only carry on in his heart as a memory. The music he played captured the attention of every member of the audience and touched their hearts so deeply that they, too, could feel the sorrow the bard was trying to convey through his melodies. His pain became their pain, too. The heartache was so profound, so raw and crippling, that many people couldn’t hold back from crying.

Venti wasn’t playing the songs to earn money or share his sadness with others. He was playing them for you. He hoped that his feelings would reach you wherever you were and that your memory wouldn’t fade away even if he remained the last person alive who knew of your existence. His songs will keep your memory alive in the hearts of the Mondstadt citizens, never to be forgotten.

☂️ Wanderer

You have been fighting chronic sickness for months, but despite the treatments, each week you seemed to get worse and worse. Neither the doctors of Sumeru nor even Nahida herself could figure out a cure for your condition. You were bedridden with barely any strength to move. Wanderer took responsibility for nursing you back to health by helping you get to places you needed, cooking all your meals and feeding you, as well as getting your medicine and administering it.

Despite his efforts, you could tell you wouldn’t last long. While you still had the strength to talk, you apologized to him for being forced to part from him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, with a frown pulling at his lips. “Rather than talk about such nonsense, use that energy to get better instead.”

He didn’t want to face the facts, to accept the reality that you could disappear from his life. But then came a day where you no longer opened your eyes when he called your name, nor stirred when he tried to shake you awake. Your body was cold and stiff and so unlike what he was used to seeing you as. The life you possessed was gone in all senses of the word.

Something in Wanderer snapped that day. Falling to his knees, he let out a guttural scream that tore at his vocal cords. He unleashed a wail that carried all the anguish and misery he’d been keeping bottled up inside for hundreds of years. He’s lost so many people he cared for in the past. Each time he met someone he grew attached to, fate would always tear them away from him, and you were no exception.

He cried bitter tears in the privacy of your shared home, cursing Fate for doing this to him over and over again. He was angry and heartbroken. Though he lacked a real heart, the sensation in his chest felt like something inside him broke into a million tiny fragments. As if sharp needles pierced through his non-existent heart and caused him to scream until he lost his voice.

He wanted revenge, but how can one get vengeance against Fate itself?

You were gone, so cruelly torn away from his side despite his best efforts to keep you alive. You were the little ray of light that never gave up on him no matter how cold he was towards you or how much he pushed you away, and helped him heal little by little. You accepted him in his entirety and wormed your way into his non-existent heart, so how dare Fate mock him like this? Wanderer truly felt as if Fate was purposely torturing him by taking away all those whom he held dear.

Helpless and anguished, Wanderer reverted to the days when he used to be Scaramouche, the sixth of the Fatui Harbingers who was infamous for his callousness and mercilessness. His roiling emotions spurred him to repeat these spiteful acts against anyone who got in his way. It was the only way he knew of how to vent these overwhelming emotions that made him feel like he was choking on his grief.

It took Nahida’s interference to calm him down and get through to him that you wouldn’t want him to be like this. The Wanderer you fell in love with wasn’t such a hateful person driven by negative emotions, and though he was loathe to admit it, the God of Wisdom was right.

Having quelled the initial burst of wounded anger, Wanderer would think more clearly about what he should do from now on. He could keep all your items, photographs, and letters, but they would never replace you, only help preserve some of the memories attached to them, which a puppet like him had no need for. He won’t forget even the smallest thing about you, not as long as he’s alive.

Wanderer becomes a regular visitor of your grave, taking care of it so your name won’t be erased from the gravestone by time too quickly. He would frequently bring your favorite foods and flowers and place them in front of your grave, before taking a seat next to it and staring off into the distance without saying a word. He did this mostly at night so he could stargaze, just like how you both used to when you were alive.

Even centuries later, when everyone who knew you took their memories of you to their graves, Wanderer will remain to watch over your final resting place, unwavering in his devotion.

🐺 Wriothesley

You accompanied Wriothesley on another one of his swims out in the open waters surrounding the Fortress. Since you weren’t a vision holder, you had to wear a diving suit to breathe, unlike your beloved Duke. You’ve had these private little swim dates a few times before, so your guard was down when you swam through some jagged areas of the Fortress’s scaffolding. The shoulder of your diving suit caught on a sharp edge of metal and tore a hole in it. The tear was fairly large, and you panicked when you felt water rush inside your suit. Wriothesley was quick to freeze the hole and pull you up to the surface to get the suit off of you, but by the time he did, it was too late. You had inhaled too much water and were unresponsive. Wriothesley tried to keep his anxiety at bay and utilized all the CPR knowledge he learned from Sigewinne to try and save your life. He breathed air into your lungs and did chest compressions with enough force to hear your ribs crack, but even after 30 agonizing minutes of trying, you wouldn’t wake up.

Wriothesley had no choice but to accept the fact you died. Wriothesley doesn’t cry for you. He’s no stranger to death. His exposure to it in his younger years made him all too aware of how easy it is to die, and that death came for all without exception. As a result, he was able to accept your death a little easier than most, but it doesn’t mean he made peace with it. The staff and inmates at the Fortress all said Wriothesley looked the same as usual even after your death. He kept up his laidback yet intimidating demeanor and busied himself with the variety of work someone in his position was required to take care of. Only Sigewinne could tell that Wriothesley was not alright despite all the strained smiles he gave everyone. The bags under his eyes grew more prominent by the day, a clear indicator he wasn’t sleeping well. She saw how he threw himself into his work, barely taking any time to rest properly, as if wanting to keep his mind busy from the horrible memory of seeing your corpse. Though he tried to mask it, in truth, your death affected Wriothesley deeply. He had frequent nightmares about watching you drown and being unable to save you, and they would keep him up at night. He usually awoke in a cold sweat, his heart pounding from intense panic and dread until his mind cleared, only to be replaced with a stone-cold reality that made the feelings of guilt come rushing back. Out of habit, he turns to your side of the bed to seek comfort in your presence but seeing it cold and empty served as yet another harsh reminder that you were gone. Wriothesley can’t sleep after his nightmares, so he opts to work out or fuss over his gauntlets to distract himself from his feelings. It takes all his self-control to keep a lid on his emotions and not become the angry, irritable mess he knows he will be if he’s not careful.

When he makes tea, Wriothesley accidentally makes two cups out of habit. One for you and one for him. Even weeks after your passing, it was still a difficult habit to break. For the first while, Wriothesley would even stop drinking your favorite tea blend because it reminded him of you. Rather than enjoy the flavor, all he tastes is bile in his throat. The flavor of your favorite tea makes him nauseous because it makes him think about how you will never taste this again or have another tea date in his office.

There was one occasion when he tried to drink your tea shortly after your death. He thought maybe the flavor would remind him of the happy times he shared with you, but all it resulted in was a broken teacup from the force of his grip, and Sigewinne fussing over his cuts and burns. He didn’t drink your favorite blend for a long time after that, only being able to find enjoyment in it again many years later when the startlingly clear memory of your death didn’t hurt him as much. Wriothesley felt lonely without you. You were the friend and confidant he told his deepest and darkest secrets about his past, the comfort he sought after a difficult day, and the soothing presence that made him feel accepted for who he was without all the embellished titles. But after your passing, the Fortress of Meropide seemed cold and gloomy, as if devoid of the warmth it once had that made him call it home. It was as if your death snuffed out the little ray of warm sunshine he felt when spending time with you.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #heizou x reader #shikanoin heizou x reader #heizou shikanoin x reader #kaveh x reader #lyney x reader #neuvillette x reader #venti x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wriothesley x reader #For some reason Lyney's part is the longest

[lecliss]

I have nothing left to do in ff7 except the final dungeon 😭😭 I dont want it to be over

#ive done EVERYTHING except play most of the gold saucer mini games cuz thats not really my thing #i fought all the weapons i have all the limit breaks i did all the side quests jesus fucking christ why does it have to end #im actually excited at the prospect of leaving most of my team underleveled so that i can come back later and grind levels for them #just to have something to do #im gonna go get food so that i can prolong the inevitable #personal

[thelesbianpoirot]

I was reminded recently of the power of dignity, and how developing a healthy or even overdeveloped sense of dignity as a woman can save your life. My gender dysphoria lessened because I was nearly thirty and found it pathetic to still be wanting to magically turn male one day, and realized how embarrassed I would be having to larp as a man the rest of my life and force other people to acknowledge my delusion. I recovered from my eating disorder because I was so swagless and unconfident starving myself into my thirties that I decide just being okay with being fat/normal weight is way cooler. Nothing is more baller than eating whatever you like, whenever you like, no fake rules, only thing holding you back is your budget. And I gave up any suicidal ideation I had because I thought about how embarrassing it is expecting to have a beautiful tragic meaningful virgin suicide, when I will just be rotting in the ground and no one but one or two people would care after I am gone, also I could be killed at any moment by a man or disease, why rush to the inevitable? Cringe! There is dignity in surviving in this world as a woman. Giving up harmful beauty practices was the easiest, I wasn't feminine to being with, because there is nothing I found more humiliating than wasting time, money and energy to put the woman costume that signals to every man that I have submitted into my role and am not a threat to patriarchal society. With a developed sense of dignity as a woman, I can't be bullied/coerced into sex with men, or any other state of prolonged sexual humiliation. I react to people trying to force me into any situation that threatens my self esteem and pride with righteous anger, not manipulatable despair like before. I cannot recommend developing a sense of dignity more as a woman. It is your greatest ally traversing the woman hating world. I won't stand for any of this bullshit anymore.

#thelesbianpoirot

[batterygarden]

can you help me, sensei?

contents: alpha! satoru gojo x omega! gn & afab reader. taboo dynamics (you used to be jujutsu tech student, he was/is a mentor figure), age gap, a/b/o, p in v sex with knotting and heat, manhandling (he’s strong), mult orgasms, gojo is bigger than u, barely there exhibitionism bc his house keepers are home, pet names, 1.8 k words

a/n: my contribution for @lorelune ‘s spring fever collab! ^_^ thanks for hosting <3 <3 <3

18+, minors dni please

Satoru’s sitting in his home office answering emails when you knock on his door, flooding the room with a certain tell-tale sugary fragrance the moment you step inside. Satoru sighs. You’ve only been staying with him two short days. This is what he gets for helping an ex-student in need, ignoring Nanami’s warnings about ‘sharing a space with an omega’.

“Hey bunny,” Satoru speaks slowly, eventually halting his typing when he looks up at you. “Something wrong?” (He knows what’s wrong. He knows that you know he knows. He’s buying himself time to reckon with it.)

“Uhm yes actually—” he feels a prick of guilt for asking. You’ll struggle to say it. “---I, uh, made a mistake.”

You inch your way closer, skittish but needy. Like he’s a stranger with food in his palms. Maybe that’s a generous comparison—Gojo can’t possibly come off that inviting. Maybe it’s as if he’s some murderous beast sleeping in a field of berries, and you’re starving. He needs to work on his analogies.

He scoots his chair away from his desk when you make your way around it, turning to face you with spread legs, inviting you in because he can’t help but want to. Your smell is so strong his mouth is watering.

“You’re in heat,” he says matter-of-factly. You flinch from your halted distance of a yard away.

“I need help.”

“Thought you were on suppressants.”

“I am! I mean—I thought I was! I’m starting to—ngh,” He watches you rub your thighs together. “---think they were expired or something.”

“‘s that so…” Gojo thumbs at the edge of his blindfold, prolonging the inevitable. This is a bother.

You nod frantically, your expression pained. Desperate and pleading like maybe you really are starving.

Gojo is mad, somewhere. He should be, at least. Any logic is forgotten with the clean air he breathed before your dramatic entrance, though.

This is Satoru Gojo’s first time feeling the true pull of his instincts. They rid him of his renowned self control—a lifetime of careful barriers and walls and techniques, wiped away by his cock and your fucking pheromones. It should be laughable.

But the instincts rob him of humor, too.

“Does it hurt?” His voice is soft without trying—he’s genuinely concerned. You’re helpless, his insides are screaming—he needs to do something.

Your eyes turn glassy when you nod, and Satoru has to grapple with the way it feels like the world will end if they spill over. Or worse, maybe he’d get even hornier.

He shushes you, pulling you into his lap carefully, like your limbs are held together with school glue, gently tugging till you straddle him.

“You poor thing. So needy huh?”

Your answering pout makes his cock twitch.

“Need an alpha to fill you up?” He says it so soft, it’s like a lulluby.

He doesn’t expect your quiet temperament to reply, but you do. “Yes, please, alpha—sensei, I really need it.”

That’s all he can take before he’s rubbing his face into your neck, inhaling and licking at the sweetness there before he bites, leaving a permanent mark, relishing in your whines while a warm hand slots between your legs.

And just like that, you’re being mated with Satoru Gojo. A teacher from school that taught the other students in your grade while you were busy healing with shoko. The strongest man alive, your sponsor who agreed to house you briefly between moves, an enigma more than a man (and one you don’t even truly know, at that). Just sitting on his lap like this is far more intimate than the two of you have ever come infinitesimally close to being—exchanging small talk and a few mentor-related words of advice was the prior extent of the relationship. There were pet names, sure—but you’ve come to find those were on par for Gojo Sensei’s personality.

Now he’s got teeth in the skin of your throat while his fingers trace right through the center of you, only a thin layer of shorts in the way. You buck automatically, openly desperate, whining when that isn’t enough.

“you poor baby—“ sensei hums, his lips against your pulse. His tone is patronizing, but it soothes you regardless. “It’ll be okay. Gonna make you feel better.”

He speaks against your jaw now, dotting kisses wherever he moves while the sorry excuse for shorts you wear are pulled to the side, your panties with them, so he can really trace you.

Though they aren’t what you truly need, Gojo’s big fingers sate your ache in a way you couldn’t yourself—your body seems to mellow at the touch of an alpha, like it knows you’ll be taken care of now that he’s here.

Instincts less frantic, your sighed please alpha comes slow and heavy as he pushes two fingers inside of you, almost testingly. It’s slow—bordering agonizing—but you wouldn’t put it past gojo sensei to mess with you, even at a time like this.

Your slick floods his fingers at that small action, a whine and a buck of your hips accompanying, and satoru lets out an amused sigh.

You’re preparing to beg for him, plead to stop the teasing, but then… you’re on his cock before you can take another breath.

The relief is unparalleled. One minute he was dipping fingers into your entrance, slow and deceptively gentle before the next he was spreading your juices over his freed cock, pulling you onto him like he’d done it a million times. You suppose the familiarity is from those very instincts that brought you here—your chest practically sings now that they’re sated.

And so do you—you can’t control the cry you let out when he finally stretches you, feeling every ridge and vein of his heavy cock deep inside your tummy just where you’ve been needing him.

“That’s it, little lovie. You’re okay—hah!”

You’ve never heard sensei gasp the way he does when you roll your hips over his. It’s a strained, weak sound—the kind you’ve never known alphas to make.

He digs wide hands into the squish of your waist. “You’re tight.” His voice speaks directly into your ear as he tucks you into his chest then, scooting back into his trusty (thankfully armless) rolling chair so he can plant his feet and sink you down even closer. He makes light work of guiding your hips, the strength of the strongest shining through as he manhandles you up and down his length like you’re a doll.

And you feel like you’ve got the autonomy of one in his hands—his cock inside your tummy seems to hollow out your thoughts while your legs turn weak beneath you. Your arms remain to cling though, wrapping tight around sensei’s shoulders through your first release on his cock. The warm waves of it shock your system, and you cry out for your alpha when it hits you before he captures your lips in his.

Kissing satoru gojo is different from all your past experiences kissing. This one is so gooey and sweet it’s gross—the spearmint taste of his mouth reminding you just who it is you’re mating with. You flash back to Gojo dropping by to bug your sensei during your apprenticeship—dwelling on the way he’d talk to you like some silly kid. He’d always invade your personal space to tease you for no reason but to see you flustered, not that he needed to—you’d fluster easy just from his handsome alpha proximity, the minty smell of his breath.

It’s gross that such a mature mentor figure’s got you clamping hard on his cock now, tongue deep in your mouth to dull the sound of your whines.

But the disgusting nature of it all has you cumming in buckets—squelching on your sensei’s girth with every pump he guides you through.

You’re barely collecting your senses and drifting back to earth with Satoru pulls you off him, chuckling at the delayed clinging you react with. Of course you’re not strong enough to hold your body to his when he’s rearranging you—as much as you try—you have no choice but to get stripped and molded over Gojo’s fancy mahogany desk how he wants.

You’re still disoriented when he enters you again from behind, shoving himself deep deep deep till you’re so full you feel like choking from the stuffed feeling. It’s almost overstimulating when you just came so intensely, but the feel of your alpha splitting you still pleases your inner omega. More than that, you’re delighted.

“A-ahh! A-alpha—“

You can barely get out a word through his heavy thrusting, merciless and rhythmic.

“What is it, sweetheart? ‘S it feel good?”

Gojo digs thumbs beneath your shirt while he speaks, his anchoring grip around your sides surely leaving bruises. Not that you even notice how tight it’s become—all you have the sense for is his cock.

“Yes alpha! Th-thank you!,”

Gojo fucks you through orgasm after orgasm like that, till every pound against your flesh is wet and sticky.

It’s loud too, and, if you were in your right mind, you might worry about the fact that Gojo’s house keepers haven’t even left for the night yet.

You’ve lost track of your orgasms by the time sensei’s pace begins to show, his massive knot catching in your tight folds till he’s stuck deep inside you, while rope after rope of warm cum pumps you full. You finally feel that fever of yours beginning to fade once you’re flooded like that, coming out of your craze only to be met with exhaustion.

Of course you aren’t really done, sensei’s still connected to you with his knot, you can feel its delicious thickness where your body craved it most when you move your hips to go limp on sensei’s desk. You can feel the flood of his hot cum still streaming into you.

Satoru is panting for the first time in your memory, rubbing the soft skin of your hips while he recuperates before murmuring your name.

Then, “still breathin’, bunny?”

You make a little noise, nodding your head with immense effort, letting your eyes droop.

Only to open again when satoru lifts you with an arm beneath your chest, pulling you back till you’re both seated in his office chair. This way you’re still connected with you on his lap, cum still spurting into your womb.

He fishes your shorts from the ground, then, only to mop up your mess on his table, though truthfully most of it was still on each of your thighs.

At least with his table cleared he can move his desktop closer and finish those mission reports he had left—the solo ones he couldn’t pawn off.

You’re in a half conscious state around Gojo’s cock, breathing somewhat evened out with closed eyes, so gojo leans you carefully against his chest, with an arm on either side so he can type. Sure, the stuff on his computer was technically confidential, but you likely wouldn’t be alert for a while. And even if you were, did the whole classified document rule even apply to you anymore? It’s not like anyone could ask him to keep a secret from you, not now—not when you’re mated.

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo fic #gojo satoru smut #tw.omegaverse #tw.taboo dynamics #tw.age gap #🐞 writes

[writingstreetspirit]

One Breath, One Touch

Summary: A night out at Rita’s changes everything for the better

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Tension, reader is very shy, prolonged eye contact, kissing

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: It feels like it’s been forever since I last wrote a longer piece instead of headcanons, so here’s a Azriel piece. If you liked this, please like/comment/reblog/follow as it helps me and every other content creator out there. Thank you! 🫶🏻

—

Rita’s is full of people, not unusual as it was Saturday night. Drinking, laughing, dancing, and music fills up the building, a pleasant atmosphere of life all around you. A lot of handsome and beautiful things and people to look at, but there is only one person that’s grabbed your attention tonight.

You can tell he is watching you, because you can feel his stare in your soul. The Night Court's own Shadowsinger Azriel is just a few meters away, along with several others that are part of the Inner Circle, Cassian, Nesta, Mor, and Amren. They’re drinking and laughing, Mor and Cassian goofing along to the music.

While Azriel is there in the middle of the group, his focus seems to be entirely on you. His eyes are like whiskey, they glow in the light, and are dark in the shadows. He stands there, looking at you, waiting and watching.

You blush from the intense staring, not being able to hold the intense eye contact for more than a few seconds before having to look away, only to then return your eyes to him again, starting over the process.

This has become a routine over the years. While Velaris is not a small city, it is inevitable to run into all citizens at some point or another. Especially with you being a co-owner at the local bakery in the middle of town, you have had customers all over the Court visit to purchase freshly baked bread or sweet pastries.

That includes the Inner Circle, Feyre and Mor often visit for the delicious cupcakes, and oftentimes Azriel accompanies them, probably as a safety precaution with Feyre being with the High Lord of the Night Courts, Rhysand. The first ever time you meet the lovely High Lady you also saw Azriel.

It’s almost been four years to the day, and every time the door opened and Azriel stepped inside, your heart would race. You’d engage in small conversations, well, more like just a few words, but you’d think about those hazel eyes and dark hair for days until the next drop in.

He raises an eyebrow slightly. He leans back against the wall he’s against, and stares you down. You can sense some kind of tension like it’s something you can physically touch and see. You feel nervous, a fluttering in your stomach.

He stares at you for a while longer. When you're not expecting it, he walks away from his group and steps right up to you. His voice is low and rumbling. “Are you here alone?”

You blink slowly, feeling warmth traveling through your face. If you had a mirror to see yourself, you bet you’d be as red as a tomato. You admit in barely a whisper, “No, I came with a friend. Though I think they’ve left me for a male.”

The corner of his mouth curls down in a small frown, and he glances away from you for a split second before his eyes pierce into yours again. “She didn’t even say that she were leaving?”

You shook your head. It wasn’t the first time something like that has happened, and while it stung the first couple times, it didn’t bother you anymore.

“Would you like company? You seem lonely.” You gulp, looking away from Azriel’s intense eyes. Your cheeks are burning hot, and despite the thin dress and the slightly cool temperature you break out into a sweat. You croak, “Yes, I’d like that.”

His gaze returns to yours, Azriel’s eyes seem to pierce through you. He leans closer towards you, the a small smile forming on his lips. “Should I get us something to drink?”

“Okay,” You breathe out, your heart racing inside your chest. Azriel’s the most handsome male you’ve ever seen, and so…kind and caring. You find it hard to look at him without revealing all your personal thoughts and feelings about him. About how he’d been on your mind everyday since he first walk inside the bakery.

You can smell his scent, it is intoxicating, and it fills your mind with thoughts of him. He’s wearing that cologne that you’d sniffed out whenever he’s been near enough for years now. It’s good, fitting him perfectly. He is so close you could kiss him.

“What would you like to drink, sweetheart?” Azriel asks, and his low voice sends shivers down your spine. Your heart fluttered, he had called you sweetheart.

You don’t answer for a long moment. You’re sure that he’ll know what you’re thinking about if you answer him. Hell, he probably already knows. After all, he is a Spymaster, and a very skilled one at that. Finally you squeak out, “Surprise me.”

He smiles, then turns away to walk towards the bar. You breathe out shakily once your alone. Fuck, you think, I must look so dumb in front of him. He’s just being kind, he doesn’t like me like that. Just as you’d managed to gather yourself somewhat, he returns with to glasses in his hand. One’s a whisky, the other is…your favorite drink.

“I hope you like this one, I can get another for you if you don’t.” Azriel says, holding out the glass towards you. A shaking hand accept the glass, letting the cold drink cool your flushed skin. “Thank you. No, this is perfect actually.”

You sip the drink through the straw, a pleasant hum escaping your mouth at the pleasant taste. You miss the pleased smile forming on Azriel’s face as he takes a swing of the whisky.

“Have you had a pleasant evening, despite your friend leaving?” Azriel asked, and you look up from your drink to see that he’s already looking at you. You hum, nodding once. “I have. Have you? Had a pleasant evening, I mean?”

He chuckled, nodding to behind him where his very obviously family were still hanging out. “Indeed, but I think they’ve had more fun than me based on how much they’ve drank. Especially Cassian and Mor.”

You laugh softly, gazing down at your high heels clad feet bash fully. “Yes, it seems to be that case.”

Azriel studies you for a long while, waiting for you to look back up again. When you finally do he smiles that smile that you’d like to think was reserved just for you. Your hair has thankfully fallen in front of your face and you hope the strands hid the flush that spreads across cheeks.

“Though I can think of something else that would make this night impossible better than it already is.” Azriel spoke low, his voice barely louder than that you just managed to here him. You look at him questioning, curious as to what he was thinking.

He raises his hand, scarred fingers brushing strands of hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear. He pauses, the space between you is electric and palpable. “Do you want to know what I’m thinking about right now?”

You want to say yes, tell me, I want to know everything single thing you’re thinking, no matter how small or seemingly unimportant, but you're too flustered to speak, so you nod instead.

He smiles slightly, it’s as if he already knew you’re tongue tied. His thumb traces your jawline, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. He whispers, “Y/N, I have been wanting to do this since the moment first I saw you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not knowing what Azriel is referring to, but before you could ask what he meant, his lips were pressed against your.

His touch is gentle, yet intense. Your heart is pounding out of your chest. You feel alive, your whole body is humming, electric. Azriels free hand is cupping your cheek tenderly, and you melt into his touch. Your hands creep up to his waist, gripping onto the fabric both to pull him impossibly closer and to keep your unsteady legs upright. Somewhere far in the back of your mind your hoping that you’re not spilling the drink all over the back of his shirt.

You don't want the kiss to end, but eventually it does. He pulls away slowly, as if he also didn’t want to leave your pillow soft lips. His hand fall away from your face, and you look up at him. Your breath rushes back to your lungs, and you are breathless.

Azriel stares back at you, you are both breathless. Eventually he speaks, his voice is low and rumbling. “You are the most beautiful person my eyes have ever laid upon.”

Your heart races, you have never felt like this before. Never been so enamored, felt so seen, both in and out, or so cherished by another. It’s exciting and terrifying at the same time. Please, a voice in your head said, don’t ever let this feeling go away. You pant, eyes unable to look away from his for even a second, “Really?

Azriel lowers his hand to touch your chin, to cup it in his and make you look him in the eyes. They are warm and soft, unlike his usual hard and closed off expression. His voice is low and rumbling, you can feel in your heart that he is telling the truth.

“I could look at you all day.” He tells you, “and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

You lean your flushed cheek into his hand, nuzzling into his warm skin. You smile up at him, at the male that had stolen your heart. The true words spill out of your mouth without any embarrassment or uncertainty. “You are too, Azriel. So very beautiful.”

He smiles back, and his touch is gentle as he strokes your cheek. All the tension and nervousness has melted away between you. Instead a warm, cozy feeling lingers between the two of you, the rest of the visitors in the bar just background noise.

“Will you take me home with you, Azriel?” You asked, looking deep into his eyes. Azriel lowers his hand from your chin, his eyes still locked on yours.

“Yes,” he says, his face shining with what you could only describe as pure joy. Wherever your newfound confidence came from, you thanked it greatly. He puts down his whisky on the table top beside you, and you follow with your own glass. “I will take you home with me if you desire it, sweetheart.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” You ask, a small playful smile breaking out across your face. Azriel chuckles low, slowly wrapping his strong arm tenderly around your waist and gently guides you along with him out of Rita’s and into the night breeze.

#writingstreetspirit #acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #acotar bat boys #bat boys

[lxkeee]

Hi!! I absolutely adore/love your works!🥰💕 Also if you do accept a request can you do platonic with reader as the second child of Lucifer and Lilith!

If your requests are closed you can just ignore this and have a good day/night!😁

TO-DO LIST

—Father! Lucifer Morningstar x Daughter! Reader [Platonic]

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Synopsis: Lucifer promised himself to do better, making a to-do list to keep track of what he needed to work on. Including mending his broken relationship with his second daughter.

Notes: will be making a male version of this later.

Additional Notes: anon didn't specify what scenario it is so I just winged it and made up a scenario of my own.

Progress, sure it's slow but progress is progress no matter what the speed of the process is. Lucifer sighs softly to himself, his right hand holding a fountain pen and his left holding a notepad. Moving his hand as he fluidly crossed out something from the paper.

Organize my room. Done.

He smiled proudly at himself, admiring his work. His bedroom is now neat and tidy, the pile of rubber duckies are now stored away properly. Some are used as decorations but the others were hidden somewhere. He made sure to display his proudest creations, such as the backflipping and fire breathing rubber duckie he recently just made.

He promised himself and Charlie that he'll be better. He thanked himself for allowing himself to visit his daughter's hotel. There, he was able to reconnect with her.

His eyes became heavy as his gaze landed on the very last goal he wanted to achieve. Reconnect with [y/n].

Reconnecting with Charlie was easy as the girl was like an exact copy of him. [Y/n] on the other hand is the copy of Lilith, his ex-wife.

Sure, she has his qualities but personality wise. Lilith.

He and [y/n] stopped communicating with one another after he and Lilith split. Guilt. He felt guilty.

He avoided his second daughter as she reminded him so much of her mother.

It's not [y/n]'s fault, nor is it his. He was just grieving, grieving over a love that lasted for so long and suddenly fell apart.

He couldn't process it properly and hurt his daughters in the process.

He doesn't even know what [y/n] is up to lately. Last he remembered is that she took over some things around the kingdom as he was quite useless during these past seven years.

What a shitty father he is. He couldn't protect his daughter. He wonders how much his daughter is going through by temporarily taking his place for the meantime. He could just imagine those filthy sinners looking at her with those disgusting eyes. The harsh words, the objectification.

He just wants to shelter and adore both of his daughters, okay?

Lucifer sighs softly, hand gripping the notepad.

He wants to reconnect so badly but he's being too much of a coward.

He doesn't want to admit it but he's doing all of these tasks because he's prolonging the inevitable of talking to [y/n].

Running away like he always does.

Before he could self destruct like he always does when facing a problem, he could remember Charlie's words, “Healing takes time and you shouldn't rush things if you're not ready. Take one step at a time.”

Lucifer calms down, right. Take my time. I should use this to think about what I should say to her.

Progress, just like Charlie has said.

Slowly and surely, goals that were written down are crossed out one by one.

It took a few weeks at most but he's finally done. Taking out his pen and crossing something out of the notepad.

Try to understand sinners. Done.

His eyes landed on his final goal. Reconnect with [y/n].

Taking a deep breath, trying to calm his fast beating heart. He's nervous, that's an understatement because he is downright terrified.

Finally picking up his phone, tapping on to the screen to look for his contacts.

Finally seeing [y/n]'s contact, her profile a rubber duck version of her that he had made.

Taking a deep breath, trying to remember what he planned to say. Finally, his fingers hit the call button.

Ringing. It's ringing.

His fingers taps along the table of his office nervously, waiting for her to accept his call.

“Father...?” [y/n] answers hesitantly from the other line and his heart almost leaped out of his chest. He cringed a little, after his relationship with his second daughter fell apart. She started calling him father instead of dad. Which sounded way too formal for his liking.

Taking a deep breath, he needs this to be perfect.

“Hey sweetie... I am just calling because I am wondering how you have been?” he says, stuttering a little.

The other line went silent for a few moments before she answered, “Are you okay? This has been the first time you've called me in the last... 5 years. Do you need something father?”

He could practically hear doubts in her voice, imagining that she's raising an eyebrow at him at the moment.

“Are you busy at the moment...?” he asked softly and he could hear the deep sigh from the other line, he could practically hear the disappointment from the sigh she let out.

She probably thought he only called her for a favor. What a bad father he is, really.

“Not at the moment, why?”she asked.

“Can I visit?” he asked hesitantly and the line went silent once more.

“Why...?” she asked, he flinches from the question.

“Can't I visit my daughter now?” he asked, jokingly. He can practically imagine her deadpanning at him.

“Surprised to hear you still call me your daughter, I'm sure I didn't feel it for the last seven ish years.”

He flinches, yeah. He hurt her a lot.

“I know [y/n]... I was a horrible father to you and you didn't deserve that treatment but... I want to be better. For you and Charlie... So please? Can I see you...?” he pleaded softly, tears rolling down his cheeks. He could hear her breath hitched from the other line, followed by a sigh.

“Alright, fine. You can come over.” she says, defeated. No matter what he did, she'll always look for her dad.

The phone call ends and Lucifer takes a deep breath, calming himself before eventually teleporting to the other side of the pride circle, where his daughter's office is located.

He immediately teleported to her office, seeing her working on her desk, typing out on her laptop.

Without giving her time to process, he immediately went to her side. Pulling her up from her seat making her yelp in surprise and hugging her.

“Dad?!” she yelped in surprise, surprised by the warmth her father gave her after seven long years. The male hugged her waist. [Y/n]'s eyes soften as she returns the hug.

“I know I treated you so horribly and I cannot justify my actions. You have been nothing but the best daughter to me and I pushed you away. For that I am sorry, please forgive me.” Lucifer pleaded softly, crying silently against her suit.

“I should've been there for you as you lost your mother but I made it all about me. You had to take over my work while also grieving. I should've been more competent but I pushed all my responsibilities to you and for that I am deeply sorry for hurting you.”

[Y/n] stayed silent, crying silently as she hugged her father. She misses him so much.

“And for that, I hope you know that I am very much proud of you. I love you my dearest princess.” he says softly and it was enough for the girl to finally breakdown, sobbing into her father's shoulders as she kneeled down to reach him. Lucifer held her, holding her body protectively.

“I am grateful that you are my daughter more than anything.” he says, running his hand through her hair. His other hand rubs circles on her back for comfort. “You've grown into such an amazing woman and I am very proud of you. I hope you forgive your father for making you do his work. Don't worry, daddy's here now...” he cooed softly, still holding into the crying girl in his arms. He promised to be better. One step at a time.

General Taglist:

@adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lxkeee answers #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #lxkeee updates #lucifer #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar

[mojogojocasahouse]

Just in Time Part I

Satoru Gojo x f!reader (Principal Gakuganji's daughter)

On the eve of a wedding of your father's arrangement, you call upon your reliable yet agitating old flame Satoru Gojo in an act of desperation and defiance

words: 4.7k content: infidelity (in an arranged marriage so does that even count?), smut, unprotected p in v, oral m-receiving, face fucking, rough sex, minor choking, spit kink, creampie, jealous!Gojo, protective!Gojo (moreso in part ii), minor degradation 18+ only

[9:37 pm] Are you busy?

[9:38 pm] Aw. Kamo family party not as lively as you’d hoped?

[9:38 pm] Just answer the question, Gojo.

[9:38 pm] Gojo is busy. Satoru on the other hand can be persuaded. 

“Asshole,” you mutter under your breath, scanning the room again for anyone who might be taking an interest. Of course, no one seems to even remember you’re here at all.. 

[9:45 pm] Yes or no

[9:45 pm] What’s in it for me?

[9:45 pm] You’re joking

[9:46 pm] With all my options, why do I choose the Kamo bride tonight? Hmm? 

[9:50 pm] You’re a piece of shit. 

[9:51 pm] HARSH!! You’ve convinced me. Send me the address. 

[9:52 pm] Oh and tell daddy hi for me!

“Fuck you!” you hiss under your breath, sighing as you toss your phone back into the small bag you were carrying. 

Your history with Satoru Gojo has always been…tumultuous. It started in high school, as the daughter of the principal of the Kyoto branch, you sought him to get back at your father, Principal Gakuganji, and he’d been more than happy to oblige for the same exact reason. Exchange events had been less about competition and more about the time stolen in dorm rooms and behind buildings, far more than goodwill being spread. 

It had all come crashing down the day you turned 18. 

Not that there had been an air of commitment between either of you, but whatever physically beneficial relationship that had sprung up and the hopes that it would be more frequent after graduation were wiped away with one sentence. 

“You’re getting married,” your father had said, the Kamo boy from a year ahead of you smiling at his side. 

That was the day you’d realized you’d been nothing but a pawn from the day you’d been born. Despite being a Jujutsu sorcerer, you’d begged to go to university, prolonging the inevitable for as long as you could. Gojo had frequented your dorm room there, too, arriving at your door with his cock already stiff, you barely made it inside before you were on your knees, pulling him into your throat. 

Those years were as close as you got to happy. 

The Kamo clan had taken possession of you two years ago, and while meetings with Gojo became less frequent, they also grew more hostile. Satoru Gojo wasn’t known for his kind, warm nature, and his frustration in losing his favorite toy was on full display whenever you’d been able to get away from lackluster events and days of learning customs you couldn’t care less about; you were too weak to end it entirely with him. He made you feel too good, it was a reprieve from the life you faced day in and day out. But maybe it was just a different breed of nightmare. 

As things continued, you realized it wasn’t actually you that got his cock throbbing. It had always been the satisfaction of how much your father would hate Gojo being in your presence, never mind your bed. You felt the same, being with a man your father loathed above all else was just as thrilling to you. And now, on the evening of your arranged wedding, you’re standing outside a small sushi cafe in a misting rain waiting for a ride to the lavish Tokyo apartment Gojo uses for one thing only. You can’t help but wonder how many others have seen those barren walls. 

Typically, he sends a taxi service, letting you know the details of the car to look out for, but it’s been twenty minutes and you’ve received no information. 

[10:19 pm] You better not have fucking bailed on me. 

You hate how the thought makes your cheeks burn and your chest hollow in what you try to convince yourself is anger, but you know the truth. 

“Why would I bail on you!?” The sound of his voice yelling from his downed window has the muscles in your shoulders loosening. “You look ridiculous. What is that makeup?”

“Fuck you,” you spit at him, rounding the car to slide into the passenger seat, “Just go.”

“Well, aren’t you tense? What’s a‘matter? Already hating marital bliss?”

The disregard he displays about your impending doom digs under your skin. Your bladed gaze shoots over to him, you’d just noticed he was wearing his white bandages over his eyes still, the high collar of his uniform unzipped just enough to reveal the stretch of his throat you’d be decorating soon. 

“Were you working?” you ask, the hour a little strange for a teacher to still be on the clock. 

“Uh-huh,” he practically purrs, flicking through the songs quietly humming from the radio.

Well, that explains why he was the one that rolled up to get you. However, more dangerously you consider that he’d dropped what he was doing for you. 

“Seriously, what are you wearing?” he asks again with a chuckle.

“Shut the fuck—“ your retort was cut short by a long, slender thumb pressing down on your tongue, your lips locking around the digit and sucking instinctively. 

“I’m gonna tear it to shreds.” The whisper is almost menacing, and your core throbs at the husky tone and malicious intent. 

When you’d texted him, you knew tonight would be different. Tomorrow you’ll be signed away. Not that it will change your arrangement, at least you had no intention for it to, but it won’t be the same. It couldn’t be. You’ll be princess to the Kamo clan, officially, and while you find pockets to escape now, soon there will be hurdles even Satoru Gojo can’t leap over. 

“Did you have any trouble?” he asks as the car comes to a smooth halt at a red light, your lips pressing a kiss to the pad of his thumb before he can pull it away completely and check whatever alert had just pinged his phone. 

“No,” you answer, turning your attention out the window.

In fact, the lack of resistance had given you pause. When you’d told your father you wanted to head home, he hadn’t even asked why. You’d already prepped the excuse of a headache and buzzing nerves, but he’d waved you off and returned to his conversation with one of the many Jujutsu society higher-ups in attendance. You hadn’t even bothered to check in with the man you were set to marry in just over twelve hours. Instead, you took the easy way out and ran.

The apartment is pitch black when you arrive, Gojo forgetting to turn the lights on as he throws his things onto the kitchen counter and heads straight to his fridge, grabbing a glass bottle of soda and sending the metal top skipping across the floor. Your eyes can’t help but try and follow it, even in the dark, the thud of Gojo’s hands slamming against the door behind you echoing in each of your ears. He’s centimeters away, his sweet strawberry breath huffing out against your lips, and your lungs seize up, your chest shaking with traitorous little gasps. It’s been almost ten years of this, and still, he leaves you quivering.

“I know what you wanna do.” His voice is smoother than melted chocolate, sweet and rich.

“You don’t know shit.” Maintaining this ruse is futile when your voice is trembling, but you try anyway.

“Oh? I think I know you best of all.”

He’s right, and the fact that he knows that has your stomach knotting. As he flashes that cocky, toothy grin there’s no helping the relief that floods through your body. The night had been tense, you’d been nothing but a stranger in a strange land, sat down and expected to abide by customs and etiquette that made you sick. It was a hierarchy, and you were the very bottom rung of the ladder, only there to push the others around you up higher towards their goals.

“You called me, remember?” he croons, backing away enough to have your body following his on pure instinct, “So come and take what you want. I’m all yours.”

For one last night. The leather of his belt is smooth as you grip it with one hand, yanking him back into you. He has a significant height advantage, but when you seek his lips he’s already curled himself down, the kiss you find solace in waiting for you. It’s sugary and warm, the soft cloth of his eye-covering pressing against your forehead as his palms swallow your sides whole, he’s learned the intricacies of your preferences in ways no one else ever would. He knows to tease you until your fingers thread through his hair, a gentle tug the welcome invitation to swipe his tongue along your swelling lower lip, but he’s also well aware you won’t take that step, but it’s one he’s always happy to leap into.

Snowy, white strands fall over the back of your hand as the bandages around his eyes loosen and drape over your noses, your nails still raking through the buzzed hair of his undercut and you know if you dared open your eyes, the infinite blue that the sky itself envied would greet you. Both your fingers and his work to pull the troublesome fabric free, his succeeding before threading with yours and pinning your hand above your head, the fraying edges of the cloth dancing against your hair as his pace picks up. 

Every inch of your body burns, the tight material of your assigned outfit suffocating and the room growing seemingly smaller around the broad shoulders in front of you. All you can smell is him as you search for the zipper of his jacket with your free hand, pulling it open and making quick work of the buttons of his overpriced shirt. His skin is smooth and cool to the touch, the peaks and valleys of his defined torso solid beneath your brushing fingertips. It takes all your concentration to keep up with him, he’s almost frantic, pushing you further and further into the wood behind you as his chest heaves until suddenly he pulls away. 

You’re left cold and buzzing in anticipation, his predatory gaze burning through you from where he stands just out of reach. 

“I want that off,” he mutters, low and menacing, his teeth gnashed together, and you know he isn’t talking about your clothes.

He’s faster than you are, his pointer finger and thumb gripping the gold ring on your left hand and tugging, the ping of the metal skittering across the floor after his haphazard toss in sync with the speed at which he claims your mouth once again. You knew he could feel it catching in his hair and grazing over his chest. Typically, you remembered to take it off prior to even stepping foot in his building, but today the surprise of Gojo himself pulling up to get you had sent everything out of whack. 

“Satoru,” you sigh, his appreciative groan from hearing his given name falling from your lips hitting where he was currently mouthing at your throat, “Satoru…”

You sound pathetic and you can't care less, he’s eating your blatant need for him out of the palm of your hand. He always does, and you wonder if he’s like this with everyone else who gets to see these walls. 

When your hand shoots to his belt, undoing the buckle and finding the button and zipper that’s keeping him contained you can feel the stretch of his smile against your neck.

“I win,” he croons, tugging his arms free of his sleeves as you push his pants and boxers down to his ankles. 

“I volunteer,” you correct as you sink to your knees, his finger keeping your chin in place and eyes on him as you drop down. 

Satoru usually won this little tradition, his hand diving between your legs first and claiming himself the “loser” as he spread your thighs wide and worked you on his tongue until he’d had his fill. Tonight, however, belonged to you, his cock thick and long as you ran your tongue along the underside, greedily collecting the small pearls that had already begun to leak from the tip. 

“Lookit me,” he slurs, mouth already hanging open as you keep his flushed head sitting on your tongue, “Good girl.”

His thumb rubs reverent circles on your jaw as he spits along his ridge, your mouth immediately locking around him and sucking him clean. With each bob of your head you take him a little deeper, your lips loudly suctioning around him as his head falls back in bliss and his shoulders drop from their tensed state. He sighs in relief, his thighs flexing beneath your hands when your throat constricts around the intrusion, your hair quickly knotting in his grip as he takes two steps forward, pinning you against the door. 

“Come on, princess,” he urges, pinching your chin, “don’t be a tease. Gag it down. All of it.”

It’s times like these when you remember the man towering above you is just a few criteria short of being a monster. Spoiled rotten and all-powerful—there is nothing the world could offer that was out of his reach. His confidence is otherworldly and earned, there is no task he isn’t proficient in, and in turn, you’ve always worked hard to stand toe-to-toe with him in all things. Even this. 

A wicked grin stretches across his face as he watches your expression morph into one of ire and determination, he knows how to push every button and pluck every string and he’s well aware of it. With your head firmly in his grasp, his hips start to move, his cock sliding over your tongue like silk as you try to force back the urge to wretch it out. Your eyes burn, tears sliding down your cheeks and mingling with the drool coating the lower half of your face, and he doesn’t relent, nor do you ask him to. 

“There we go,” he praises, yet your nose still hasn’t touched the thin patch of white curls that’s still an inch away, “Fixed that hideous makeup.”

He can tell that you need air, and he pulls himself free while still keeping you pinned by the hair, a string of spit connecting your gasping, swollen lips to the shining tip of his dick. He’s chuckling to himself at your haggard state, your lungs burning as they pull in the air that tastes like him. He bends, forcing himself to your eye level, his free hand thumbing at your gaping mouth.

“You’re such a whore,” he whispers, and it sounds like a compliment in his tooth-rotting, sweet tone, and he spits once again straight onto your tongue. 

“Prick…” you cough after swallowing down what he’d left, his high-pitched giggle echoing in the room as he stands back to his full height. 

“Well, you don’t come here cause I’m nice to you. Do you? Open up.”

Your response is a swift obeying of his command. 

“You like this kind of attention,” his tone is lower now.

Once again, you have to resign to the fact that he’s right. There’s no warning now, no preparation, just his cock slamming into your throat, and your eyes snap shut as you breathe through your nose. He reaches down to feel the bulging of his thrusts, being careful to not pinch off whatever airflow you may have just yet, his hum of approval shooting straight to your throbbing core. 

“And only I give it to you,” he finishes, your tongue laving out against his sack drawing out a whine, “Stay still.”

He knows exactly what you can take, moving his hips at a speed he knows won’t be too much and stopping when your mewling turns frantic, kissing your lips as you suck in air before returning to fucking your throat hard enough the door rattles on its hinges. You want to reach between your legs to relieve the ache that’s becoming unbearable, but you know he’ll scold you, prolonging any relief indefinitely. 

“And what would daddy think of you now?” he snarls, pulling out and smacking the side of your face with his cock, “When are you gonna stop letting that old man run your life?”

The question comes out of nowhere, shocking you enough to give you pause. His nostrils are flared again, and his chest heaving; he looks furious. He takes full advantage, a firm grip around your upper arm pulling you to your feet before he does exactly as he’d threatened, tearing your outfit off in one effortless tug. The question of what you’ll be going home in flits across your mind, but it’s background noise, drowned out by the confusion at his sudden uncharacteristic question and the oceans swirling in his eyes staring down at you.

“I hate what you do to me.” Words you weren’t sure you were meant to hear push the air from your lungs as he tugs you towards the bedroom, your feet following until your back hits the soft down comforter stretched across his bed. 

You want to contemplate what he means by that, but he doesn’t give you time. He’s nudging your legs apart with his knees, his cock flushed practically purple in his grip as he finds you dripping wet and ready for him. There’s nothing slow or gentle about the way he fills you in one hard thrust, his arms immediately pulling you upright and flush to his chest, your thighs trembling from the burning stretch between your legs as he lifts you slightly and lets you sink down onto him.

“You know, out of everyone,” he purrs, all signs of his previous anger neatly tucked away, “your pussy is still my favorite.”

Whatever of his anger had quelled now coiled in your belly at his words, and you shove at his shoulders, his unsuspecting body toppling over with a clumsy “oof!” as your knees straddle his thin waist. 

“Ohoo, ha! That makes you mad doesn’t it?” he taunts as you do your best to pin his wrists above his head with two hands, “That you have to share.”

It’s a thought that shouldn’t irk you in the slightest, but it makes your eyes flash green with envy. He doesn’t even flinch as you hold him in place despite how easily he could overpower you in less than a second. Tufts of white hair fan out around his head like a halo for a man anything but angelic, his hands wriggling free just enough to entwine his fingers with yours. You go from feeling in control to once again at his mercy as he cradles your palms in his, the gentle press of his lips to the point of your chin waking the butterflies in your stomach. There’s no reason for him to be this reverent, this intimate, he was spitting in your mouth just minutes ago, but he continues his soft path, your head turning to allow him to trace your jaw and find the sensitive hollow behind your ear.

“Now you know how I feel,” he breathes, and you clench around him as a shiver shoots down your spine.

The sharp point of his nose grazes along your skin and you’re twitching on him now, but you’re too content like this to move. He’s so close, you feel hypnotized, almost serene as you breathe him in and just feel him. The worst part is that he gives in, letting you have this tease of a moment, a flickering and fleeting ruse of something that will be ripped away. You like holding his hand, as it turns out, his grip is strong and delicate all the same, his fingers practically at the bend of your wrist. You’re just breathing each other’s air now, noses bumping as your eyes flutter closed, and part of you just wants to collapse and fall asleep.

“Am I still a prick?” he asks with a devious lilt.

“Yeah,” you confirm, but for reasons that aren’t entirely his fault.

“Hmm. Want me to be nice to you?”

Life will be easier moving forward if you refuse his offer, but before your train of thought catches up with the autopilot currently in control, you’d already nodded. 

The pillow is soft under your head as he flips you onto your back, your bodies still connected while he situates himself comfortably between your legs. With the first slow roll of his hips, a kiss to your forehead sends your knees into his ribs, his smile stretching across your dewy skin before he repeats it all over again. It’s cruel, and immediately you loathe the woman who has seen this side of him before you have. 

“You need to relax,” he commands, flicking his tongue out against your pursed lips, “Before you drive me insane. How long d’you think I can make it with you clamped around me like this, huh?”

“Aren’t you the strongest?” you sass in reply, trying to distract yourself, and he laughs.

“Most of the time.”

He’s found the angle that drives you mad, every drive of his cock hitting that spot deep inside you that inches you towards ecstasy. Your vision goes white around the edges, his lips still close enough to kiss but neither of you can focus enough to close the distance. At some point, your fingers had wound into his hair and his in yours, the muffled whines and gasping breaths escaping into the room more obscene than the guttural cries of his name of times past. This was raw, honest, desperate. He’s muttering obscenities as he tugs hard enough to have your scalp twinging, the sudden pressure of a hand clasping your throat dragging you up to the surface.

“I need you to…” He’s wrecked, sweat dripping down his temples, his hair stuck to his face, “I need you to come. I can’t…”

A reassurance that he can cut the act and do what he needs to is cut short by a blinding, white-hot wave surging from your middle outwards. Your nails seek to permanently indent their half-moon shapes into the marbled perfection of his back while your face buries in his neck. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you can feel the vibration of his voice against your cheek until your senses begin to regulate, and it’s then you realize it’s a pleading whine of your name he’s been chanting like a prayer. 

Panic sets in, he looks like he’s in agony, his face twisting and eyes clamped shut but when your hands cup his jaw it melts away. A lazy kiss allows you both to settle, lips tugging and pulling, tongues brushing softly, and you can feel him softening inside of you as his cum and yours soaks your inner thighs and drips onto the bed. You want to know what he’s thinking, but his face is unreadable now, it’s almost as if he’s half asleep, opting to rest down on your chest for just a moment, his ear directly over your still-hammering heart.

There’s no time to decipher exactly what had just transpired. It’s better that way. He lifts you with ease and carries you to the shower, his fingers scrubbing your hair before he drops to his knees in front of you–a silent plea to return the favor. You take it slow, scraping over his scalp and combing through his thick locks until his head falls to your stomach. You stay until the water runs cold, not a word is said, and there’s no use in translating the silence. It doesn’t matter anyway. 

“Guess I didn’t think that through,” he chuckles as he passes you a t-shirt from his drawer, watching intently as you pull it over your head before focusing on the way the hem hits the middle of your thighs, “Maybe you’ll have to climb in through a window like the old days.”

The memory makes you smile. 

He’s in nothing but sweatpants when he walks out with a wink, leaving you sitting on the edge of the bed with a towel in your hair. Once you leave this room he’ll call you a taxi, and then it’ll be tomorrow. So you sit there surrounded by everything that makes Satoru him. Empty soda bottles on the nightstand, mochi wrappers surrounding a half-empty trash can, his uniform for tomorrow folded and set neatly on a chair in the corner of the room beside the moonlit window, expensive watches he rarely wore, an array of sunglasses, and a single photo of him, Shoko, and Suguru Geto from their second year at Jujutsu High tucked back on the dresser like a relic he dares not move.

When you finally shake the lead from your feet and trudge into the kitchen, Satoru’s at the stove, music playing lightly from his phone on the counter, the symphony of the orchestral tune mixing with the sound of metal scraping on a pan. As you approach the table, he slides a plate across to you, your stomach rumbling at the sight.

“What’s this?” you squeak out, staring down at his offering.

“An omelet,” he states bluntly, flipping the one he’d started for himself.

It’s like an anvil has been dropped on your chest, the control on the tears that had been threatening to break free since he’d pressed worshipful kisses to your stomach in the shower waning. It’s insane that for a moment you consider he actually cares, the lack of common decency you’re shown in your daily life making every gesture grand, even something as simple as this.

“Do you…not like omelets anymore?” he asks, you hadn’t realized how long you’d been in a staring contest with your late-night snack.

“I do.” Your throat is closing in on itself and it’s becoming impossible to mask.

“Okay…”

Etiquette takes over, and you sit to take a bite of what he’s prepared for you, but the small piece you’ve cut off only makes it halfway to your trembling lips before it goes clattering down to the table. 

“What is–” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Why?” The question is much more harsh than you intend.

“Why what?”

“This.”

“Because your stomach has been gurgling since I picked you up. It’s annoying. And you said you wanted me to be nice to you.”

You can’t help the knowing laugh that snaps you both out of whatever daze you’d been trapped in. Your appetite ducks and runs once again and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. It’s all part of the act; he could be whatever it was you wanted, all you had to do was ask as long as the request wasn’t honesty. If he won’t call you a cab, you can get one yourself, and you find your discarded bag on the counter on the other side of him, but of course, he blocks your path.

“What is your problem?” The concerned furrow of his brow almost makes this all believable, like he can feel remorse.

Footsteps coming up the sidewalk catch not only your attention but his, and although he slips around you to separate you from whatever lies on the other side, his arm held out to keep you safely pressed behind him, your anger has already taken over.

“Have I overstayed my welcome?” you snap, shoving at the barrier of infinity he’s activated.

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

“Is your next visitor here? It is a Friday, I’m sure you’re busy.”

“Tch. I was working before I dropped everything to come rescue you. Left poor Megumi to finish the job on his own.”

“As if you couldn’t have just done it yourself.” You mimic the way he unleashes that destructive purple technique, flicking against his invisible wall right behind his ear with your middle finger, “Just let me leave–”

“With no pants? Good luck.”

The color drains from your face when it isn’t a woman’s voice heard on the other side of the door, but a very familiar one. Three raps of a wooden cane echo through the palpable silence, your body going rigid in terror as the sound of your pulse turns deafening.

“What did you do…” you mutter under your breath, backing away from Satoru who’s playing the part of shocked exceptionally well, “What the fuck did you do?”

“What did I do?!” he responds in a hushed, frantic whisper.

“You called him.”

“Of all the stupid conclusions you’ve had in your life!”

“Gojo!” your father’s voice echoes through the room, “GOJO!”

Part II is almost done! Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs=love

{{Masterlist}}

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo fanfic #gojo satoru fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk smut

[mercuriians]

hello!!! I saw that your requests were open, can I request some drabbles with Welt and Jing Yuan with an overly cautious s/o, discovering them wearing something of theirs as comfort? (ex. They catch reader out and about calmer then usual, and the after a bit realize reader is wearing an article of their clothing? (Maybe for Welt, one of his old scarves, wrapped around their neck, covering half of their face. For Jing Yuan an old long sleeve turtlekneck, that's so loose on reader that it looks like a dress)

Thank youu

✒️

breathe me in

content info — gn! reader, fluffy drabbles w/ the lovely mr. yang & jing yuan (separate!!), reader is mentioned to be a cloud knight in jing yuan's part, & a morsel of hurt/comfort if you squint.

word count — 0.9k words.

author's note — mm i liked writing this a lot! welt's been one of my favs since the start and i've grown fond of jing yuan too. i love them. thank you for being my first requester, anon!! <3

WELT YANG.

seeing as your boyfriend is, hands down, one of the most observant people you've ever come across, it's only inevitable for him to notice one particular change in your appearance. he's barely entered the parlor car when he spots some sort of brown fabric comfortably stretched across the width of your neck. the realization dawns not even a second later—that's his scarf, one of the several that have grown weathered over the limitless journeys.

still, once welt sees the serene, relaxed expression on your face, and how the stiff vigilance in your eyes has melted—that alone brings out a tiny smile from him—he comes to the conclusion that you pay no attention to the scarf's loose threads and holes. or, that you do, but you don't care about them.

finally, your eyes meet his, your lips curving into a familiar little smile of your own. he walks over to where you're sitting before taking his place next to you. "hey, baby." you greet him tenderly.

"hi, dear," welt hums. with no one else—besides pom pom of course—in the parlor car at the moment, he reaches for your hand without any trace of hesitation. his fingers, calloused yet warm, envelop yours. "i see you've found one of my old scarves. i'd honestly almost forgotten that they were still in my drawer."

"yeah, you caught me.." vaguely, you start to look bashful, your gaze drifting elsewhere, your teeth nibbling softly on your lower lip.

however, he's quick to appease your diffidence. the man says his next words with the kind of adoration that can never be faked. "it looks far better on you than it could have ever been on me."

wide with surprise, your eyes find his. "you.. you mean that?" you whisper, but your heart is already swelling with joy.

welt leans down to place a careful, meaningful kiss on your forehead. "forever and always, my love."

JING YUAN.

the present moment was likely the worst time for your clumsiness to show. just a second ago, your foot had slipped on the loose material of jing yuan's burgundy turtleneck. barely managing not to fall on your face, you stumble into your shared chambers. what really makes your cheeks burn in humiliation, however, is what happens next.

without a warning, the general of the xianzhou luofu bursts into laughter.

it's not his usual kind of laugh, either; instead of being brief, restrained, and courteous, it's prolonged, loud, and unbridled. one would almost think that he's cackling, if not for the respectable kind of individual that he happens to be.

"do my actions entertain you that much, general?" you grumble with your arms crossed, a forced, but mild anger lacing your tone.

once he hears your words, jing yuan ceases his hysterics. "why do you address me so formally, darling?" he asks, clearing his throat despite the remnants of mirth still lingering within his aureate eyes.

"maybe because you seemed unable to control your emotions a second ago," you retort. your answer doesn't even fully make sense, you're well aware, but by now the shame covers you from head to toe. you can't exactly find the effort needed to care.

still, the general maintains his appropriately perceptive nature. sensing your change in mood, he quickly and efficiently dispels all traces of amusement. he pats the vacant spot next to him. "come, sit with me."

you move to sit down next to him, your movements completely quiet except for your breathing. this time you make sure that you don't trip on your boyfriend's annoyingly long turtleneck. to jing yuan's surprise, you speak first. "i'm sure you've noticed what i'm wearing," you start, and he nods affirmatively. "i found it while i was cleaning your closet."

you look down, nervously pulling on the sleeve. "it reminded me of you, so i put it on. it.. it helps me feel normal, i guess, like i don't have to constantly put my guard up."

there's a stubborn beat of silence that ensues, and with your unease growing, you lift your head to meet jing yuan's eyes. however, your worries are futile; the look on his face tells you that he understands completely.

of course he does.

"i'm sorry for laughing earlier, my beloved." the man says earnestly. "i was just taken by surprise, especially since your steadfast caution is of another level. to put it into other words, i suppose.." jing yuan trails off, taking a moment to properly articulate his thoughts. "it makes me glad that even a strict, unwavering lieutenant of the cloud knights has their moments of humanity."

with the way your boyfriend gazes into your eyes, you're unable to do anything else but let your embarrassment slip away, subdued by what you know to be jing yuan's love. "and it makes me glad that even a general of the xianzhou has their moments of immaturity," you giggle softly. the man shakes his head, amused once again.

"i'll offer you a deal, darling. if i kiss you, perhaps, will you promise to forgive me?" jing yuan hums, his large hands already reaching out to trace the familiar hem of the turtleneck.

"i already have," you smile, but nonetheless you lean in, taking in his placating scent of cedarwood, fresh ink, and earthy leather. your eyes slide shut, lithe arms circling around your boyfriend's strong neck as your lips meet his. his fingers dip underneath your clothing, tenderly ghosting over your skin as he kisses you more deeply.

neither of you pull away for a long while.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr welt #welt x reader #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #gender neutral reader #hsr fanfic #hsr fluff #welt yang #welt fluff #jing yuan #jing yuan fluff #welt x you #jing yuan x you #hoyoverse #fanfiction #✎— ❝devon writes❞

[alucarddear]

Alucard drinking his lovers blood-😩😩😩

Mine*

Alucard feeds on his lover during sex.

Note: *Smut drabble ahead. This contains 18+ written material. [She/her]

I wanted this to be sfw, but I ended up just going for the usual passable excuse in vampire fiction—sex truly works.

The dhampir starts slowing down his pace, prolonging the inevitable. He bucks into his lover with enough force at just the right angle, coaxing a particularly drawn-out moan from her. He chuckles low against her lips, watching the way her face contorts in pleasure, enjoying the fact that he is causing it.

Even in his darkened room, she is beautiful.

Soon, he has her panting, writhing, gripping the sheets, his name falling off her lips in a repetitive litany he could’ve sworn rivalled those sung in hymns, if only they weren’t followed by vile fucks and shits and harder, faster, please, Adrian, please.

How could he ever say no to his little darling?

Adrian picks up his pace, his hips stuttering against hers in rapid successions, the slapping sound of their coupling nearly drowning out every dirty little thought swimming in his head. “Yes, that’s it,” he says. “Squirm for me.”

His lover arches her back, pressing her breasts against his chest. “Adrian, I-I—” she pants harder, faster, voice going higher in pitch to match the shaking of her legs. She grips him as if her life depends on it. The coil is tightening. Too much, too much—

“Shhh,” he coos, supporting her, holding her by her arched waist and hitting her spot over and over. He presses his face to her breasts and convinces her that “Yes, yes, darling, you can take it.”

She’s so soft, so warm, and mine, mine, mine.

Fuck. He’s close, and with the way she is clamping around his length, he knows she is too.

It’s time.

“Darling,” he rasps, his thrusting becoming desperate, yet she is already throwing her head back, baring her throat to him willingly.

Adrian hears her heart beating, racing, as she chases her orgasm, her own hips meeting his every thrust. He smells her everywhere—tantalising, flooding him with a different kind of hunger, yet he senses no fear in her, only desire. He gulps.

His fangs extend and he zeroes in on her neck, grasping her by her hair.

She barely feels the sinking of his fangs as her searing white-hot climax hits her hard, leaving her clawing at his back, mouth open in a silent scream, limbs shaking, shuddering, writhing.

He empties himself buried deep inside her quivering cunt, back stiffening, his moan muffled by his suckling at her throat.

As always, she tastes sweet like cherry wine.

#my boy deserves sex without him shedding tears for any reason grr #i will not accept it #adrian tepes #alucard #castlevania #alucard tepes #alucard x reader #alucard fanfic #alucarddear writes #alucarddear: mine #Alucard smut #Adrian tepes smut

[rebouks]

Ivan stared at the contents of his suitcase blankly, barely paying attention to what he was packing as he flicked the zip back and forth. “I didn’t think you’d be here.” He remarked, glancing over his shoulder.

“I was waiting for you-.. where’s Pixie?” Bruno asked, as though he didn’t already know the answer. “Oscar’s.” “Are you coming back, or..?” Bruno mirrored Ivan’s fidgeting, picking at the fluff on his old joggers. “I don’t know, I need t’think for a while-.. I’m goin’ away with Tilda n’ Mia for a couple weeks n’ all.”

Ivan snapped his attention back upon his luggage. It would’ve been easier if Bruno hadn’t been home, he was bound to forget something now, distracted as he was.

“Ivan, I-…” Ivan interrupted Bruno before he could continue, “Explainin’ ain’t gonna change anythin’ is it?”

Bruno fell silent, struck with inertia at the edge of the bed. He should’ve explained, pleaded, threw himself at Ivan’s feet and promised he’d never return to Oasis Springs-.. but he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

“I’m probably gonna find someplace else when I get back-.. dunno what you wanna do with the house, but I don’t want it. Y’could buy me out, I guess, or we could sell it.” Ivan filled the void with practicalities that Bruno didn’t want to envision just yet.

“We don’t have to decide anything right now.” He offered, instead. Ivan shook his head, “I ain’t gonna change my mind.” Bruno thought as much, but he still couldn’t help himself from adding, “I still love you, for what it’s worth.”

Ivan paused for an excruciating moment before sighing, deflating Bruno’s glimmer of superfluous hope, “I ain’t sure what it’s worth anymore…”

“It’s not the same as before.” Bruno pleaded, “Kaden’s-…” Ivan rose to his feet, dismissing Bruno’s words with a wave of his hand, “I don’t want nothin’ t’do with any of ‘em-.. apparently, that includes you.”

Bruno tugged at Ivan’s wrist before he could leave, manoeuvring himself between him and the door; his unusually calm, cold shoulder cut far deeper than Bruno expected it would.

“You don’t have to have anything to do with them-.. no one’s in any danger.” Ivan huffed disbelievingly, sidestepping Bruno’s efforts to stop him from leaving, “Keep tellin’ yourself that.” “It’s different with-…”

Ivan finally lost his air of composure, cutting Bruno off mid-sentence, “Was it not excitin’ enough for ya?  D’ya not feel alive unless y’pushin’ folk around, fuckin’ someone over-.. is doin’ whatever y’please the only thing that gets your blood pumpin’? Does it make life worth livin’?” Bruno blinked as Ivan confronted him, not quite expecting such a succinct breakdown of all his supposed failings.

Ivan’s steady gaze faltered somewhat once he’d said his piece though; his brief flash of anger replaced by sadness as he asked, “All this time-.. why’d y’even pretend, B?”

Bruno avoided Ivan’s gaze for a moment, unable to form a response; he hadn’t always been pretending, but as much as he hated to admit it, Ivan wasn’t too far off the mark. He didn’t particularly enjoy the lifestyle that he’d described, but it felt a hell of a lot more natural than trying to fit into this one; he wasn’t made for domestic bliss, he didn’t make Ivan happy, nor was he. They both knew he was playing pretend by now, but letting go was easier said than done, no matter how much you loved someone. In fact, love only made things more complicated.

Ivan pulled away from Bruno, punching through the silence than hung thick between them, “I just need some space, okay? Do whatever y’want with yours.” Bruno tugged desperately at Ivan’s shirt as he turned away, “Wait-.. can we just talk about everything when you get back?”

Ivan sighed morosely, offering a weak shrug, “Sure, let’s prolong the inevitable-.. what’s a few more weeks?”

Bruno hung his head as another rogue tear escaped down the side of his nose. Ivan’s demeanour felt so wearisome, so final-.. but Bruno didn’t want to let go, not that it felt fair to try and convince him to stay either.

“Don’t fuckin’ cry, B! Don’t act like this wasn’t on you!” Ivan spat, his uneven tone betraying the lump that resided in his own throat.

Bruno stuck his fingers beneath his glasses, jamming them into his eye sockets; he thought Ivan’s familiar anger would’ve consoled him, but it didn’t.

“I tried, okay? I really did-.. n’ you did too, I know y’did…” Ivan added a little more softly, as though he understood; as though it wasn’t really Bruno’s fault, like he wasn’t truly angry at him-.. even though it wasn't true.

Bruno nodded; the tips of his fingers still pressed firmly against his eyes in a vain attempt to stop the pain from overcoming him completely.

“Bruno, don’t…”

Ivan tried to pry Bruno’s fingers away from his eyes, wordlessly begging him not to make this harder than it already was.

He acquiesced, dropping his hands to his sides as Ivan gently caressed his cheek, his eyes brimming with a million different emotions at once-.. but that was Ivan, and that was the problem.

He hated, loved and felt everything with intense fervour, unapologetically wearing his heart on his sleeve for all to see; a heart so full of love and passion that Bruno felt inadequate in comparison. He couldn’t reciprocate any of it the way Ivan deserved; it would never be enough.

Hollow and empty in contrast, Bruno could never hope to give as much as Ivan was worthy of, and he was worth the world-.. but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to pretend.

Maybe just one last time…

Previous // Next

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 story #sims story #forever in between #fib #ivan harper #bruno clarke #i hate it hereeee #i'm packing my bags and leaving too #i'm DONE #😭😭😭

[vilsoo]

prize counter girl ☆ ten

➥ michael afton x camgirl!reader

you've been a camgirl for only a few months and everyone loves the content you post. when michael afton porn surfs to relieve his stress, he comes across your videos. the more he jerks off to your content, the more he's addicted. but it wasn't until, a few months later, he sees your familiar face as the new employee working at the prize counter.

chapter warnings. sex work mentions, so much flirting

notes. we’re backkkk 😋😏😫😍‼️ i hope y’all enjoy this adorable, lovely chapter that i KNOW yall have been dying for. here’s some yummy food @ihrtlert

pcg materlist • previous • chapter eleven

As much as you wanted to keep making out with Michael in the dimly lit hallways of the pizzaplex and escalate things further, he had a few things to do before locking up the place. First things first, cleaning up the supply closet and then finish organizing the boxes of new prizes and supplies for the arcade. It was his fault for getting himself distracted like this, staying much longer than he was supposed to that you decided to offer some help.

But that didn't mean the end of your night together.

"So. What made you wanna stay during closing tonight, hm?" he teased as he was closing the closet door. "And where were you hiding this whole time, anyway?"

You were leaning against the checker-patterned wall as you fixate on him, smirking in a subtle snarky manner. "Upstairs where the bar and lounge are at. I wanted to check out for myself what was upstairs and then... that's when I found you.

"Oh? Roaming around where you're not supposed to, I see..." Michael mirrored your smirk, dipping his head lower and inhaling your sweet scent that drives him insane. Just like before, the gap between you two is now inevitably thin, feeling his body heat transmitting onto your chest as you arched your back against the wall.

"Aw, am I in trouble?" you bantered, settling your gaze on him with the right kind of heat and ardor pooling in your flaunting eyes. It was the same look you gave him in the break room today. The same look when you cleaned his cum off his cock. Your fucking "fuck me" eyes. The look you give him as if you're undressing him without even touching him that drives every fiber of his being to just... ravage you.

"We'll both be in trouble if you keep fucking looking at me like that," he murmured in your ear with his tone falling sharper and stricter, a shiver coursing down your spine. He was frustrated. A little enraged, even. And that turned you the fuck on that even Michael could tell.

In such close proximity and prolonged silence, you gaze intensely into each other's eyes one last time, surrendering to this imbalance of power and unfair seduction, that he immediately had to pull away before he got carried away again. In just a fleeting moment, the both of you snapped back into reality.

"I— I, uh, have to lock up," he sputters. "You can go through the regular exit to the back parking lot since there's no cameras. I'll go through the main exit where I parked."

You sighed deeply as if your heart sank, pushing yourself off the wall with your gaze attached on the floor. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow, Michael...."

"You too," he beams, slightly agitated, but involuntarily raising his arms out as a gesture for a hug. He wanted to feel the warmth of your body melting onto him one last time, an inhale of your scent to linger in his nose, to at least hold you as if he wanted to protect you. His heart then palpitated when you wrap your arms around his neck and laid the side of your head on his chest, your lips stretching to a smile at how fast his heart was beating.

Michael never wanted to let go.

This embrace felt like the longest he's ever hugged a woman. But after glancing at the clock on the wall and noticing it was almost 12AM, you had to separate. He was here closing the pizzaplex for an hour, way past the time he was supposed to leave. But for some reason tonight, he wasn't feeling all sleepy or tired from work. As if he felt that same rush of energy he got from kissing you last night...

When you already left to the parking lot with your stuff, Michael was lingering in his thoughts. An ongoing battle in his mind, his leg bouncing up and down from this sudden burst of energy as he sat alone in his car. Thinking of you. Thinking of the confession. Every thought of his was consumed by you, and only you, like a triggered springlock clawing into the depths of flesh and bones, unable to escape.

Tomorrow is another day with her. Just ask her out in the morning.

A nice, innocent date where she can dress up and look pretty while I treat her and spoil her.

But tomorrow is too long from now, man.

I'd rather lose hours of sleep than lose a simple last minute date night with her I've been wanting for so long.

He was the only car parked in this lot while yours was on the south side of the building where all the employees are supposed to park. Throwing away his inhibitions like he always does, he speeds around to the corner of your designated parking spot, hoping that you didn't leave yet. To Michael's luck, you were still there turning your engine on.

Your heart fluttered when you suddenly see his car in your peripheral vision pull up beside you on your left, facing the opposite direction so he could be closer to you in the driver's seat. His window was already down with his elbow resting on its ledge, an exhilarated smile on his face as if he just couldn't wait to see you again.

You couldn't help but laugh as you rolled down your window, shaking your head. "I knew you were gonna come around."

"Well, you said it yourself. I enjoy your company as much as you enjoy mine," he teases, his heart still thundering in his chest in agitation even after he motivated himself just awhile ago.

"Shouldn't you be catching up with your hours on sleep? I know I made you stay a little late..."

"You don't have to worry about me. I've actually been sleeping pretty good recently," he smiles, dismissing the fact that you really were at fault for his lack of sleep the past couple of months— but he allowed it.

"That's good to hear," you bantered. "Did you drive all the way here to be my passenger prince again?"

Michael chortled, finding his laughter and the way his eyes crinkle adorable to you. He then inhaled sharply with his teeth clenched, mentally preparing himself and ruminated on his thoughts before speaking.

"Ah, well... After what just happened back there, I— I didn't want our sudden late night together to end just like that..."

"Oh? Is my manager... asking me out on a Sunday night?"

“Not your manager," he corrected. "Your biggest fan."

When you drift your gaze onto Michael, a warm, bonny sensation dissolves onto his skin from the way your eyes glimmered at him. A surging tide of ardor and infatuation blossoming in your stomach— this man would never fail to surprise you, to be the cause of your body surrendering to the charming side of his personality. He could tell you were robbed of speech and so was he— but then again, time was limited.

"And yeah— I know it's really last minute," he continues with a slight stammer, "believe me, if I had the time to take you out, I would've planned ahead. You know, so you can have enough time to dress up and get ready and not have to show up in your daily attire or even your work uniform—"

"Michael, it's fine. I would love to go out with you," you reassured to him sweetly. The way he rambled, the way you can tell he's still nervous and stumbling over his words urged you to just shut him up with another kiss. Good thing he wasn't your passenger prince for tonight or you might've recreated what happened last night... perhaps escalate things more than just a heated, intense make-out session.

Michael blinked rapidly like he just had a double-take. "Oh. Then, uh... you'll just have to follow me and we'll meet there."

"Do you know where we're going?" you asked, grabbing the clutch of your stick shift from park position to drive.

"It's only, like, fifteen minutes from here. Definitely a nice, relaxing getaway place from work. I think you'd love it."

You never thought that you'd experience these kind of late nights with Michael; stargazing together, admiring the stunning cityscape, and indulging in the nightly, tranquil ambiance of this perfect night. There was a place in downtown that he knew, a secluded hilltop that shows the breathtaking view of the twinkling city and midnight sky. As you sat on the hood of his car and relaxed under the stars, it was also a perfect time to ruminate on life and have more than just "small talk" outside of work.

"...To be honest, sex work has always been physically and mentally exhausting," you confided to him. "I don't even know why girls who just turned 18 all of a sudden wanna be in the porn industry. There's so many fucked up people online that can exploit these young and impressionable girls— believe me, I've seen everything in less than 5 months I started. There's a dark side to this industry that's never talked about or even forewarned before you do sex work."

Michael had his arm around you, rubbing your shoulder in comfort. "I always thought that shit was weird... It's always social media that pressures those young girls to do sex work for 'empowerment' when in reality... it'll just destroy them, right?"

"Yeah. That's why I never take sex work too seriously and didn't want this to be my career. I mean, yeah there will be times when I do it for fun and earn good money from my viewers, but... that's only the glamorized part of it all. In the end, sex workers shouldn't be demonized, but the industry shouldn't be glorified, either. I will always support women who do this because of their financial situation, as long as they're cautious and understand their reality."

"You're absolutely right," he says. "I'll always be supporting you too, you know. It's just— I still can't get my head wrapped around the fact that we actually work together. My first time seeing you, I literally didn't know how to function. I was just like... holy shit."

The two of you chuckled as your mind replayed the way Michael seized up after seeing you for the first time that day. "I've never seen a man fold like that ever," you teased. "You were so awkward in real life compared to when we chatted online. That's why I had my doubts, but— it was kinda hot seeing you all shy and nervous around me."

I won't be the one shy and nervous next time...

Michael scoffs, grinning down at the ground. "I mean, could you blame me? I didn't expect the camgirl I masturbate to working here with me."

"Oh my god, shutup," you bantered, lightly tapping him with your knuckles.

Michael couldn't believe that after so much time had passed until a few days ago when he fist met you, you were starting to be comfortable with each other. Aside from just flirting and intense sexual tension, there was something else existing between you two that just felt... surreal.

This beautiful balance of having flirty banter, sarcasm, and humor that would go to being sweet and genuine with each other, and then being able to empathize together, opening up to each other about serious things in life... This kind of connection for him was not only what he's been craving, but what he cherishes, something so special that he would never want to lose.

"...What's your schedule looking like the next couple weeks?" Michael asks, slanting his head closer to yours just to take in your scent again.

"Hm. I think I might be off next Friday..."

“Oh really? I'm also off that Friday too," he replied sardonically, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"What about your dad?" you piqued. "Do you think he's gonna get suspicious of us at work?"

Michael's hummed, slightly perturbed as he thought about the times where his dad pestered him just from seeing you two together. "It's kinda hard to tell, you know? Him suspecting his employees having something going on is the least of his priorities. Like, he won't be watching us all the time, especially on the cameras. But if we make things way too obvious... he's not that dumb. We'll definitely get in trouble."

"I get it. I think it's best to keep our distance just in case," you suggested, settling your gaze onto his face as you leaned on his shoulder. There goes that look again, beguiling him wholeheartedly. Your riveting, doe eyes with the moonshine reflecting off the lens has never looked so beautiful. But whether this was intentional or not, he can sense that you love making him feel this way.

She is the only one that does this to me.

She drives me crazy. She makes me act out of control until I'm not longer myself.

And she takes sick fucking pleasure while doing it.

She knows what she does to me.

"You and I both know that's fucking impossible," he coaxed, turning himself to stand in front of you while caressing your waist. "I can't stand not being around you. Talking to you on break or even after work isn't enough for me."

You find yourself leaning against the hood of Michael's Audi as he inches closer. Your breath nearly faltered from the way his fingertips glides against your skin, drizzling you with goosebumps. A sweet sensation interwoven, burning every molecule of desire in your bodies. He's been aching to caress you, to hold you safe in his arms, to touch you in places that sends you right over the edge... Nothing could help the fact that the both of you were touch-starved deep down.

"The supply closet and a few other places downstairs," he mutters into your ear, "there's no cameras. I know you love showing off in front of cameras, but... a private show wouldn't hurt, hm? That is— of course, whenever you're down for it. Not like I'm gonna randomly snatch you and then we have a quickie. That's insane."

You bursted out laughing from his sudden tone shift, him being all flirty and then back to his sarcastic self. "You're funny, Michael."

"Well, in all seriousness... That Friday I'll also be requesting time off. We'll have the whole day to ourselves— and I'll definitely have a perfect first date planned for us."

Your arms slither around his neck, lips just mere inches away from his as both of your hearts pound in excitement. "I can't wait," you murmured fondly.

Michael presses his lips against yours, melting onto each other passionately right under the pale moonlight. This beautiful feeling, this beautiful sense, this basking of pleasure knowing that he's all yours— not only admitting his dirty little secrets and the lustful pining had brought you two closer than ever, but also the intimate, ardent feelings you both had for each other was mutual.

Now that he can be himself without acting so painfully awkward around you, so much burden had finally lifted off his shoulders. No more secrets, nothing else to hide from each other anymore. But there were still a few more problems the both of you had to inevitably face at work— one of them being William Afton if he ever suspected that his employees are officially dating each other.

Fuck the fraternization policy.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐎 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost/share any of my works on any social media where minors have access.

#( ♥︎ ) — prize counter girl. #michael afton #michael afton x reader #michael afton x you #mike schimdt x reader #mike schimdt smut #michael afton smut #mike schmidt x you #fnaf smut #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you

[avocadoguru]

He was staring at her in a way no one had in her entire life. She couldn’t read anything in his eyes - not surprise, not fear, not malicious intent - nothing. (wolfrry, werewolf!harry, alpha!harry, ranger!y/n)

Lupus Noctis- Masterlist, Author’s Note & Warnings

Chapter 10 / alternatively, read on wattpad

Chapter 11 (word count: 8k) -updated July 3rd

Harry had never cared less about appearing vulnerable to someone else. The amount of times Niall had seen him cry and cling to Y/N whilst whispering sweet nothings into her ear was well out of his comfort zone. But it didn’t even occur to him to mind.

It was like no one else existed.

Y/N was all that mattered. Her frail state that he could barely look at the first two days. Niall had told him not to, but he’d climbed next to her in the hospital bed. When he realized his friend was worried for his own injuries and that it would not affect his human, he completely disregarded his admonishments.

And Harry was aware that Niall had saved his life. He was lucky for such a friend as him and he would tell Niall as much once he got his mind in the right place. Once his human was up and talking and smiling again. But until then, he would sit by her side and talk to her, holding her hand and caressing her face, petting her hair. 

His own wounds would heal. He was okay but in pain, as his body had lost an almost fatal amount of blood. But he wasn’t thinking about that. He wasn’t worried about himself. He could endure the pain, the healing. He could endure the aftermath, his anger.

He’d not made his friend’s job easy. Niall had had to operate on him right there, next to Y/N, because he simply would not leave her sight. At Niall’s practice in the city, he set up two beds. One for Harry and one for Y/N. Lester helped aid him as much he could because time was of the essence with Harry. He was aware Y/N was too far gone to save but he did what he could in order to clean her up and close the wounds. Keeping her stable only prolonged the inevitable but Niall wouldn’t live with himself if he didn’t at least try. He knew it was of no use but he could stop her bleeding and get her to safety. That was all he could really offer.

For Harry, though. He was strong and could heal. He’d lost too much blood but he was a werewolf and his body would repair itself at a rate a human’s body would never be able to. So he cleaned and stitched, and stapled Harry’s wounds and broke him the news about his human. 

“No. She’s still alive. That means something. She’s not gone.”

“Harry…” Niall spoke softly and slowly knowing his friend had to hear the truth as awful as it was, “She’s not going to recover. I just want you to be prepared for this. Currently, her heart is still pumping but it’s getting weaker as the hours pass. Her lungs aren’t working and we’ve connected her to a ventilator so she can breathe but that just means her body is unable to function properly.”

He refused to believe she was dying. He was looking right at her, leaning over her body, his hands grasping her limp ones. She was only asleep. She was only unconscious and her body needed time. Just a little more time.

Niall went home every night to sleep in his own bed but he stayed with Harry as long as possible and he always returned the following morning with food for his friend.

He was worried about Harry. Not because of his injury, but because he wasn’t sure if Harry would be okay when Y/N’s body finally gave up. He was sure Harry would lose it. He was worried he’d go and get himself killed. The muttered words, “If she doesn’t come back to me I’m going to kill every fucking person that was involved,” told him as much. Niall was worried he’d lose his best friend.

The more time went on, the more desperate Harry became. While at first he’d just sat next to her bed, he’d ended up crawled next to her by the crack of dawn. If he barely could take in the sight of her at first, he was now scanning every inch of her as if to memorize her better. Barely daring to talk to her at first, he was now whispering right in her ear. Not for fear of being overheard. Again, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about how he appeared to Niall, Lester, or any of the nurses who came in during the night to check on Y/N. But as to be as gentle as possible with her, as to not startle her in her slumber, for he knew she was only asleep. 

He did hope she could hear him. Because he had a lot he wanted to tell her. Things he was desperate to get out, for fear he maybe wouldn’t get the chance to later on.

It wasn’t ideal, this wasn’t how he wanted this to happen. But he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “My love, please come back to me,” he murmured in her ear, not for the first time, not for the last time. “Please, I want to look into your pretty eyes again. Wish I’d told you how much I love your eyes before. I get so lost inside your eyes. Would you believe it? Or would you scoff and look away, thinking I was taking the piss? I don’t think you ever knew how far gone I was. I never showed you what you do to me. Not just my body, but my heart. Was too afraid to. Like a fucking coward. I wish I could take it back, wish I could show you just how much you’ve meant to me all along. Wish I could’ve seen your eyes when I first told you I loved you, no, when I sobbed it, when Niall brought us in and finally left us alone after he poked at my injuries for what felt like hours. It’s not that I didn’t want him to hear, hell, I’ll shout it from the rooftops. Mountain tops. I’ll howl it to the moon. I just… I wanted your ears to hear it first. I love you. You’re my mate. I’ve known from the start. I wish I could’ve told you. I wish there’d been a better way. Wish I’d been braver. Anything. Anything but this. Anything but you in this bed. Anything but you so weak and in pain, and–”

Harry buried his face in the crook of her neck and allowed himself to sob once more. He’d not cried since he was an infant, as children do, but he could physically feel his heart breaking. It was unbearable. If he held onto her tight enough, she couldn’t leave him. Right? 

“Everyone left. My parents. My brother. Don’t leave me too. Not when I finally found you. Not when you finally know. Not when I know that… you love me too… I know you do. Tell me you do, Y/N. Please. Please open those pretty eyes, and move those pouty lips and tell me. I swear I’ll not want for anything ever again. And if you don’t… That’s… that’s ok, too,” he sniffled, pulling away a bit and wiping his tears away from her skin. “Just wake up. If I’m wrong, and you don’t want to see me again, if… if seeing me was too much, is too much… I swear I’ll understand. I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll get lost forever if that’s what you want. Just please… wake up. Please.”

On the morning of day three, Niall came in with bagels and fruit. And it was no surprise when he saw Harry sitting next to her in bed. After assessing the scene and finding that Y/N was still alive he greeted Harry, “Hey, morning.”

Harry turned to look at his friend and ticked his head in a nod before bringing his full attention back to Y/N as he continued speaking in whispers to her. Private confessions. Promises. Declarations. Apologies. Supplications. The sort of things one whispers to a loved one on their deathbed.

“Got bagels and some spreads. Some bananas and melon too. It’ll be over here if you’d like any,” Nialll placed the food on the table he’d been using to eat on next to the window. 

Harry was a little hungry. He hadn’t eaten all that much in the few days since the fight. He hadn’t really been that hungry. But his body was healing well and now it was asking for some sustenance. 

Lifting his head he turned to face Niall, “Yeah. I think I’ll eat,” he stood from his chair and walked to the table selecting his bagel and a packet of butter as Niall watched him closely, “What?”

“Just… I’m glad you’re eating first thing. That’s good news. You’re healing well I think-”

“I don’t give a fuck about me. I know I’m fine. That makes all this so much worse!” He gestured around the room.

Niall nodded, “Yeah. I know. I just mean, for me. You know? You’re my friend. I’m just glad, is all.”

Harry was chewing into the bagel as he nodded, keeping his eyes on his friend. Swallowing down his bite he looked across the room to Y/N then back to Niall, “You’re a great friend, Niall.”

Harry took his usual quick nap once he’d finished eating the bagel. He would stay up all night with his eyes on his mate to watch for anything. He refused to sleep since Niall wasn’t there to check on her. He couldn’t risk being asleep if anything happened to her and no one else could watch over her, even with an overnight nurse present in the practice in the doctor’s absence.

Niall hoped against hope that, somehow, she would wake up. That she would be okay so that his friend would also be okay. He knew it was just about impossible, but if she didn’t wake up Harry would get himself killed by trying to avenge her.

After the last patient had left and Niall was shutting everything down he heard Harry calling for him. Niall took a deep breath, imagining the worst as he turned into the room the pair were in.

But it was the opposite of what Niall had thought. The patient monitor was showing a stronger heartbeat and slightly higher blood pressure. He scratched his head as he looked at the vitals on the screen and immediately pulled his stethoscope over his ears and held her wrist as he placed the chest piece over her heart to check the stats for himself. 

He looked up at Harry who had an expectant, hopeful expression on his face.

But Niall was confused. How? He double-checked her heart rate and swallowed, “I… She’s getting stronger. But I don’t know what this means. Um, I should stay the night. We can take shifts-”

“No. You can sleep if you need to. I’m gonna stay right here with her,” Harry spoke as he looked over his human and took her hand into his, “You’re doing so good, Y/N.”

Niall put on a pot of coffee and continued monitoring her as Harry stayed by her side. But the night didn’t change her status. She still had a stronger heartbeat and that was good. But no improvements were notable by the time Niall laid down to shut his eyes for a bit. His friend was glued to Y/N’s side. 

After Niall had fallen asleep Harry paced the room a bit. His nerves were getting to him. She’d gotten stronger suddenly and Niall was surprised by that. The not knowing what was to come was hard. Harry was used to being in situations where he could pretty well foresee the outcome because he was the one calling the shots. But this was different. Y/N’s life hung in the balance and he had no way of forcing his hand in this. It was up to fate. To chance. 

When the sun slowly drizzled into the room, golden first light hues scattered over her face as Harry sat by her side. Even asleep she was beautiful. Even with a tube in her throat. With a bandage on her neck, scratches on her face. 

“Good morning, Y/N. Sun’s up. Where are you? Are you coming back today, my love?”

Seconds after Harry whispered his words the patient monitor sounded with an alarm and Harry stood up quickly to see what had caused it. Rapidly increased heart rate.

Niall was quick to jump out of bed and take over but before he could pick up his stethoscope she moved. Her neck turned and her brow furrowed and Harry inhaled a sharp breath as he watched his mate come back to life. 

Quickly snapping on his gloves, Niall carefully pulled the tube from her throat, “She’s breathing. Respiratory waveform is active. I may need to reintubate but she’s breathing!”

Harry didn’t know what Niall was talking about but he didn’t care. It was all good news to him. She was moving and wincing as the tube was pulled out. Once it was tossed to the side Y/N began to cough and her scratched throat and trachea sounded like she had laryngitis but Harry was smiling and his heart was pounding in his chest.

“Y/N!” He pulled her hand into his and squeezed as she slowly blinked her eyes open. When her vision cleared and Harry came into sight she startled and yanked her arm away from him, eyes wide and looking around the room. 

The smile fell from Harry’s face at her reaction to him but figured that was deserved. He was just happy she was with him. She was awake. She was alive.

Niall quickly adjusted the settings on the monitor so the alarms would stop and then he looked her over, “Y/N. You’re in my clinic right now. You’re recovering from an injury. Do you know who I am?”

She tried using her vocal cords but winced and coughed, “It’s okay. You don’t need to use your voice right now. You had a tube in your throat and you’ll be a bit sore and uncomfortable for a bit. Just nod or shake your head to answer.”

She nodded slowly and scrunched her face in pain.

“She’s hurting, Niall!” Harry spoke quickly. Her little body was in pain. He could tell.

Niall pulled an IV and inserted the appropriate amount of narcotic to put into her bloodstream to ease her pain, “I know, Harry. One thing at a time, man. She’s just becoming conscious.”

Harry could feel warm tears begin to fill his eyes and blur his vision but now that she was breathing, and looking around the room, he didn’t want her to see him falling apart. Now that she was back he knew he needed to stay strong for her. He quickly exited the room so he could let himself feel the sadness and joy heave from his body. He leaned into the wall and tilted his head back to look upward as he clutched over his pounding heart causing the tears to drip into his ears and on his neck. 

If Harry didn’t need Niall he’d have strangled him then and there when he re-entered the room after collecting himself and seeing Y/N was back asleep. 

“I had to sedate her! She was in too much pain!”

Harry kept it together upon hearing that. “But she will wake up again. Right?!”

“Absolutely. She’s… I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but she’s on the mend. She’s getting better. It’s only uphill from here, man. Listen, I know you wanted to talk to her… but she was struggling, I could tell. Another round of IVs and she should wake up way smoother next time. Plus, she’s breathing all on her own! Look!”

And Harry was looking. He’d not taken his eyes off of her. Niall had better been right about this, otherwise he’d never forgive himself the mistake of stepping out for the brief moment she was awake. But he didn’t want her to see him fall apart like that. He needed to be strong for her. Needed to reassure her. Brighten her up.

He hoped he hadn’t missed his shot.

*

Niall decided to sleep at the practice again that night, knowing Y/N would probably wake up and he wanted to be there to give her proper medical care and make sure Harry didn’t accidentally smother her back into a coma. He kept that thought to himself, along with his other suspicions regarding her sudden, and quite miraculous recovery, at that.

Instead, he tried distracting his friend who seemed even more impatient for her to wake up than before, “She’s a fighter, your Y/N.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile at that, ungluing his eyes from her frame. He sat on a chair on the side of her bed when Niall was in the room, mostly so he could prod at her freely. 

Niall was very pleased with her vitals. She was almost fully recovered, judging by all her stats. The bloodwork had come back almost impeccable. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was a scientific miracle. It kind of was, in a way. But Harry wasn’t questioning it at all. Maybe to him it didn’t seem like such a miracle, with all the pleading he’d been doing for her to get better, it was like all his prayers had been answered. He didn’t have the medical knowledge to grasp the uniqueness of the situation.

“She always has been, you know. Brave little thing.” He told Harry how she had gone looking for him that night and found Niall at his apartment and how he knew she didn’t buy his story about taking over the lease. He’d called Lester the very next morning to tell him that Y/N was concerned about Harry being missing and Lester told him that she was in danger and he was on his way. Lester knew not to trust Harry’s pack. He knew something wasn’t right. He’d been around long enough to know what was what in that world.

“And then Lester said that as he was leaving the house and saying goodbye to Alma, Edward growled and pounced on him to get him to wait and that’s when he shifted back. No one expected it but it happened. So Lester, Alma, and Edward all made the trip together because Edward wanted to help. Then I tried calling her and texting her so I could warn her but by then it was too late. And that’s when I found her apartment door open and her purse left behind.”

Y/N had been smart to go searching for Harry. If she hadn't, Niall might have not known he was missing because it wouldn’t be uncommon for Harry and Niall to go a week or two without talking. And both she and Harry might be dead at that moment if not for Lester and Niall’s intervention. 

Lester’s sway amongst the leaders of the packs was wide-reaching. He threatened to call on reinforcements if Harry’s pack didn’t offer a trial (which they weren’t going to at first). So, as grim as the current outcome had been, it would have been worse if Niall and Lester weren’t there to help.

But it had all started with Y/N. She’d been worried about him, even mad that he’d gone missing, again. 

Eventually, Niall left the room to nap in his office and Harry was once more alone with his little human. Knowing she was definitely going to wake up again now made him focus on how he was going to fix this mess. He wasn’t foolishly assuming she’d forgive him and want him back, even though he did know that she loved him too. He’d seen it in her eyes when he was about to fight that scumbag for his life. 

Be that as it may, he knew that didn’t equate to her wanting him in her life necessarily. What she’d witnessed was hard to accept. What he’d kept from her was hard to come to terms with. And she was fragile now. She needed space, he knew. But he wasn’t going to leave her out of his sight no matter how much she opposed it. He was going to bring her back home and assure her he would give her space, the space she needed to figure things out whilst recovering safely. 

He didn’t trust her alone at her own place. Sure, he’d earned their freedom from the pack but there were still loose ends he needed to trim. Like Irina. Harry hadn’t forgotten about her and her complicity in all of this. She was going to have to pay, too. But that was for later. For now, he was focusing on Y/N and her safety, and he didn’t trust his former pack, especially Irina, not to try and get to them again. They were conniving, double-crossing fiends, and even after earning his freedom fair and square he was still expecting some sort of retaliation. 

His plan was for them to move away for good as soon as she made a full recovery. Granted she still wanted him, of course. He had no plan for the eventuality that she would kick him to the curb. He couldn’t even ponder that option. 

But Lester’s offer was all the more appealing now. And he knew she loved it there on his farm too. Maybe that could be their new home. Anywhere she wanted. As long as they were together.

Just then, he felt her stir, and he climbed off the bed gently and sat on the chair next to her bed. He didn’t want to suffocate her with his proximity. Didn’t want to give her the impression that he was assuming anything. But he still held her hand, he just couldn’t let go. He didn’t need the monitor to feel her heartbeat pick up and know she was waking up, and he saw Niall approach from the corner of his eye, his watch alerting him of the changes on the monitor.

“She might be a little woozy ‘cause of the higher dose of painkillers I gave her. So don’t worry about that.”

Harry nodded and squeezed her hand in his gently, “Y/N? Are you awake, kitten? C’mon. Open those pretty eyes for us.”

And open them she did. Fluttering eyelashes gave way for her lovely irises in which Harry had feared he’d never see his reflection again. 

Both men smiled widely at her compliancy and Niall brought a tall tumbler of water to her lips, “Need to lubricate your throat a bit, Y/N; have a sip, please?”

She looked up at him and gave the faintest of nods, and he took it as his cue to hold the straw steady as she puckered her lips around it and began drinking out of the glass slowly. She winced at first, taking the first few gulps, her throat sore no doubt, but she finished the glass in its entirety which prompted Harry to squeeze her hand once more and coo, “Good girl.”

Her heart rate picked up a bit at that and Niall gave him a sly smile, but Harry was too enthralled watching his little human to notice. She rested her head back against the pillow, the strain in her neck keeping her head up getting to her. Niall fluffed the sides of her pillows a bit to give her even more support and smiled at her, “You’re doing so well, Y/N. You’re recovering beautifully. Would you mind trying to talk to us a bit? I know it’s a bit uncomfortable and your throat must still be sore, but I know someone is dying to hear your voice again.”

Harry kicked his friend in the ankle at that. He had no business putting that kind of pressure on her and Niall got the message loud and clear, but she seemed to miss the interaction altogether and opened up her mouth to try and get some words out. “How…” she frowned at the sound of her own groggy voice, and tried clearing her throat but it came out the same, “How long was I…?”

“A few days. Nothing major. Don’t worry about that. You’ve made a full recovery, so nothing to worry about whatsoever! You still have some scarring that will fade but I guarantee there will be no marks left to tell for them. And of course, you need to build your strength back, but at the pace you’re going, you should be on your feet as soon as tomorrow!”

Harry shot up his eyebrows to Niall’s statement as he watched him prod at her further, making her follow a small light he fished out of his breast pocket and then asking her more questions to assess her reflexes and awareness. Wasn’t that a bit too optimistic? He’d never heard of anyone making such a speedy recovery waking up from a coma. He didn’t want Niall to create false expectations for her.

“In fact, I’m discharging you today!”

Y/N was just as surprised as Harry to hear that she was going to be ok to leave so soon. She had no idea how long she’d been out of it exactly, but she disliked hospitals as much as the next person, so she was glad for it.

“Now… I know this is a sensitive subject, so I’m going to step out and leave you two to it, but I’m going to have to need you to tell me if you want me to send over a nurse to look after you for a day or two at home, or if you’re comfortable with nurse Harry over here,” Niall nudged over to his friend. “There’s really nothing special he needs to do, just make sure you take your meds on time and keep an eye on you, make sure you make no sudden movements, make sure you hydrate and feed yourself properly, you’re still going to need to sleep as much as possible so it’s easy to lose track of all that yourself.”

Y/N made to say something but stammered, trailing off and Niall took it as his cue to leave the room, but not before praising her for her recovery again, “You’re doing great, Y/N. I’m so happy to see you on the mend. Had us worried for a moment there, but you’re a fighter.” 

Harry watched his friend close the door behind him and then turned back to look at his little human and found her eyes already on him. He was still holding her hand, running his thumb over her skin in soft strokes all along, and he took one more look at the sight of her small hand in his before he removed himself in order to give her the space she needed to make the decision.

He looked back at her then and his heart soared at the sight. He didn’t know whether it was the drugs she was on, but the brazen look in her eyes and the way she didn’t shy away from his as she sometimes did had his own heart pounding against his ribcage. For the first time ever, he didn’t know how to approach her. She intimidated him. A feeling so foreign to him. He didn’t think anyone had ever made him look away, stare him down to the point where he had to break eye contact. Surely it was the guilt he felt, he reasoned. 

“Are you alright?” she whispered as to not strain her vocal cords. Her voice sounded more like her old self when she did that, she found.

Again, Harry felt his heartbeat pick up at her concern for him. “I am now. How are you feeling? Are you hurting?”

She shook her head slightly, “I feel fine. It’s like I just woke up from a deep sleep. But I remember the pain…” she winced at the thought, and Harry made to grab her hand in his again but stopped himself just short of.

Instead, she stretched her arm ever so slightly and grazed his hand with the back of her fingers. Both of them watched intently as their fingers intertwined. Harry couldn’t fight the urge to raise their conjoined hands to his lips and kiss hers. “I was so afraid I’d lost you,” he murmured against her soft skin, his brows furrowed and eyes shut tightly.

She understood all the different meanings to his statement and wanted to say the same. But she needed more time. She needed to clear her head a bit. But she also needed him, that she knew for sure. She didn’t want to go home without him. Not after she thought she was going to lose him, herself. No. She wanted him near. “So take me home, nurse Harry.” 

*

Y/N felt exhausted by the time Harry had brought her back to his house. He’d carried her all the way, to and from his car, and she could’ve sworn she felt his heart threatening to break free from his chest as she laid her head atop of it, in his arms. She’d never seen him drive that slow, avoiding every little pothole just so she could be as comfortable as possible for the small journey to his house. She knew they needed to talk and clear the air, but she didn’t have the energy for it quite yet. She was happy he was alive, and she allowed herself to bask in that feeling. 

She’d asked him to run her a bath, the sponge baths the nurses had been apparently giving her had left her sufficiently clean but she felt like she needed to really soak and preferably wash her hair too. Harry wasn’t too sure about that, though. He wanted to give her space, but this could be too dangerous for her still weakened state. He didn’t want to push it and suggest he get into the tub with her, but he told her he’d be standing by the whole time and wash her hair for her, and she agreed to it.

He tried looking away when she undressed, and he even helped her to an extent, but then he reasoned he needed to assess how her bruising and scarring was developing. He was pleasantly surprised to see her skin was barely tainted.

And Y/N was very aware of his eyes on her, on the way his blood quickened in his veins, could almost guarantee he’d stiffened in his pants at the sight of her bare body before him, but she couldn’t act on it as much as her own body was responding to their closeness. She needed time. Her body needed time, too, not just her heart and her mind.

He helped her climb into the tub and sink into the perfectly warm water and Harry sat on the floor next to it and leaned on the margin, looking at her through bubbles, content to have her safe in his presence. Content to know she wasn’t in any pain. He didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky. It seemed like a miracle that she was awake, let alone able to do all this so rapidly. 

But he didn’t want to tell her how close he’d been to losing her. Didn’t want to tell her how worried Niall had been and adamant she wasn’t going to wake up. Didn’t want to tell her that he’d been prepping himself for losing her for good, telling her all he had weighing heavy on his heart.

They sat in silence, and it was perfect. She was there. She was alive and well. And she’d not told him to get lost. His heart was hopeful.

Eventually, he helped her wash her hair, sitting on the edge of the tub behind her. He was extra gentle, and she hummed deeply at how good it must’ve felt. He was happy he could make her feel better, in any way.

And later, when she let him dress her in one of his shirts to bed, his heart soared. He wanted so badly to kiss her, just a soft peck. Just to be close, and communicate how he felt. But he wouldn’t push it. Her hair was still damp but the look in her eyes had gone soft and hazy, and he knew her energy was running low. He gave her her meds and helped her in bed, and then stood there stupidly, unsure what to do.

“Are you not tired?”

He nodded. He was exhausted. He’d barely slept for all those days, and he was still recuperating himself from fatal injuries. Of course, being a werewolf, his recovery was expedited, but he still felt weak. Above his physical injuries though was his mental exhaustion. He’d worried so much for her that he was now feeling it all catch up to him. 

“Will you hold me, then? I know you’re injured, too, so only if–”

She didn’t even have time to finish that sentence before Harry was undressing and climbing into bed behind her. He’d kept his boxers on- again, boundaries. But he tentatively reached for her soft body and pulled her into his chest, holding her to him.

Her own hands grabbed on to his arm and she nuzzled closer against him as he spooned her, “I just know I couldn’t fall asleep without your scent all around me,” she mumbled, already so close to falling asleep.

He’d not had time to shower himself that day, so hopefully it wasn’t off-putting for her. But he’d get that done in the morning. As well as cook for them, his appetite was growing now that all was well in the world again. And, well, he’d have to do something about the erection he was trying to keep from pressing into her. He was determined to give her the space she needed and that meant keeping his urges at bay. 

He was so happy she was in his arms, he felt like crying from happiness. It was hard refraining from smothering her in his affections when she was right there, pressed against his chest.

“Oh…” she gasped softly. “Is that… are you purring?”

Harry froze and immediately stopped, “‘m sorry, thought you’d fallen asleep…”

“No, no. Don’t stop. I like it. Please keep doing it?”

Harry didn’t even have to force himself to, just hearing her asking him to purr had him doing so naturally. It felt incredible to be able to do so freely, after having to hide it from her for so long. His natural reaction to her proximity when he felt happy and warm and fuzzy. 

She giggled. Harry smiled widely at the feel of her trembling in delight in his arms, and it spurred him further, tightening his arms around her a bit more, still careful not to harm her in any way though. “This feels amazing…” she trailed off, drifting into unconsciousness. Harry agreed wholeheartedly.

*

Harry had woken her up at around 6am to give her her meds, then before she could drift back to sleep he told her he’d be stepping out very briefly in the morning to restock their fridge so he could cook something for them, as promised, making a point out of how he’d be back before she’d even wake up but in case she needed anything, anything at all, she was to call him ASAP. 

But she was feeling fine, in fact, she’d used the bathroom before going back to sleep all on her own, no need for him to help her to the ensuite, she was just very tired still.

So when she woke up later, she didn’t really need to go downstairs and check to know that Harry was not back yet. In fact, he’d probably just left since his scent was still lingering pretty heavily around her. Plus she couldn’t smell any cooking taking place.

Still, just to be sure, she got out of bed and decided to go inspect. She was feeling… surprisingly fresh and reinvigorated. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken up so well-rested. She couldn’t believe she’d suffered any injuries, she was feeling fine. More than fine. 

Strange.

But she wasn’t gonna complain about it. She did feel hungry though, so she was hoping Harry would be back soon from grocery shopping and she was determined to convince him to let her help. She had a burst of energy and couldn’t imagine being made to lay in bed for one more day.

She still felt like this house had way too many rooms. Was way too big. Who needed all this space?! She liked it, she really did, but she much preferred the cosiness of her own home. That was probably what was wrong with it, this just felt like a house, not like a home.

It hadn’t been lived in all that long, to be sure. But still. Passing by a spare guest room she suddenly stopped in her tracks.

She furrowed her brows, following the overwhelming scent she was picking up on, coming from that room.

She’d expected it to be a laundry room with the kind of scent she was picking up on, but there were no hampers lying around the room. It all smelled of brand new furniture, except for one specific chest of drawers. 

Approaching it, she reluctantly opened up the uppermost drawer, on a whim. 

Her eyes rounded in shock. She gingerly picked one of the several pairs of panties. Not just any panties, but her very own. Her very own used panties. 

She dropped them back and took a step back, incredulous laughter escaping her lips that she then covered, still in shock. “...Holy shit!”

Maybe she should’ve found it repulsive, she reasoned, but to her dismay she found this was turning her on for some reason. She didn’t know what it was about her discovery, but it awakened something in her, something very… primal. 

But she didn’t really have time to contemplate this when she heard the faint sound of a car door. The huge, semi furnished house must’ve had quite the echo if she could hear him out front when she was on the other side of the house entirely.

Nonetheless, she decided to bring it up later, use it to her advantage somehow, the idea sending a thrill through her body.

For now, she needed to eat. She was truly ravenous. 

She made her way into the kitchen, just in time for Harry to emerge with the groceries. He was being very careful and quiet in his movements, but she noticed him rush to the kitchen after he’d entered the house, almost as if he knew she’d be there.

“What are you doing here!?”

She shrugged, “Waiting for you. I’m hungry, you said you’d be quick.”

Harry didn’t know whether to be annoyed or glad. He was happy she was feeling good enough to get out of bed, happy she was hungry, but he’d told her to take it easy. “I told you to call if you needed something!”

“Why? I knew you were probably on your way back, and I don’t exactly need anything. But you’re letting me help.”

Harry placed the groceries on the island, taking her in. She was quite sassy all of a sudden. Again, there was something about the way she was looking at him. Something was just… different. Like she was challenging him, more than before. She was never the meek and obedient kind, and that’s one of the things he liked about her, but now… she’d amped it up a notch. Or two.

And he liked it.

“Is that so?”

She nodded. “Are we making eggs benedict?”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, his lips quirking up in a smile. “I am. You’re gonna wait on the couch all snuggled up.”

Y/N frowned, “But I’m tired of lying around! How long was I even out for, I feel like my muscles need a good stretch! Could we go for a swim later? Besides, you went for a jog yourself, don’t be selfish!”

Harry was taking all of this in, trying to process what she was saying. He wasn’t all that familiar with human recovery, but this sounded out of the ordinary, even to him.

“It was just a quick run before I headed out. I’ll have to check with Niall and see if he approves. He told me to make sure you take it easy.”

“Yeah, nurse Harry, I remember. But surely swimming isn’t too strenuous… I just wanna stretch my limbs a bit.”

Harry had a different idea as to how he could help her with that but he kept it to himself. For now. Especially with how he was certain he could smell hints of arousal on her. But he knew he couldn’t dream of pursuing that idea until they had a serious talk about what had happened. And he was waiting for her to initiate that conversation. For now, he had to burn off his pent-up energy by doing things out of character, like jogging. He would’ve skipped it had he known she’d be up so soon. For as long as he’d known her, Y/N had never been a morning person. And now especially, she should’ve been still in bed, recovering. But it was barely 9am and here she was, giving him lip that early in the morning.

“I just don’t know where,” she mumbled while she started unpacking the groceries. “Can’t exactly go back to the preserve…”

Harry furrowed his brows even deeper watching her unpack the groceries. His mind was racing, trying to make sense of it all. “How did you know I was planning on eggs benedict?”

Y/N shrugged, “Guess I had a hunch? Oh, crap. The hollandaise is dripping!”

Harry approached her side to inspect the jar, luckily not much had dribbled down the side of it, “Yeah, I opened it up to check if it was any good otherwise I’d have had to make it from scratch. The lid must’ve unscrewed on the way here…”

Part of him wondered if she’d smelled the sauce, and that’s what had given it away, but there was no way she could smell that tiny bit that had dribbled out of the jar. He could smell it now, of course, being as close as he was to the opened bag, but had he been able to get a whiff of it earlier he’d have secured the lid in place.

Y/N was having a hard time with him so close to her. He smelled delicious, all manly after his jog. She felt like burying her nose into his neck and forgetting all about breakfast. Suddenly she had a different appetite that needed sating. And then there was the tiny detail about him collecting her discarded panties…

No sooner did she finish even thinking about that, that Harry pulled away as if electrocuted and she watched him take a few tentative steps back. “What’s wrong?”

“I just remembered I’m long overdue a shower, I must reek. I’ll be quick, please don’t start without me, alright? Turn on the TV or something, sit.”

She rolled her eyes and watched him rush for the staircase. Fine. She’d wait. 

Harry had not allowed himself any reprieve since this whole nightmare had started. The first good night’s sleep he’d gotten was that very night, with Y/N safe and sound in his arms, in his bed. The jog earlier that morning was meant to help him blow off some steam, but Y/N’s proximity was making it very hard for him to ignore his urges, especially when he most definitely smelled hints of arousal on her.

He was determined to keep it in check for her sake, and aside from the fact that he really did need to shower, quite desperately so, he was also going to jerk off to clear his head a bit.

He came way too fast, and very hard since he’d not released in over a week. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d gone so long without. Probably not since he’d first masturbated as a teenager, which was saying something. But it left him unsatisfied. He needed more. He huffed his frustration but then heard a loud knock on the ensuite door. He turned the shower off so he could hear her properly, “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“You tell me! It sounded like you were in pain, are you alright?!” a very distraught Y/N could be heard from the other side. Harry frowned. Surely he hadn’t been that loud when he came. And the water should’ve muffled it. 

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.” He quickly grabbed a towel, placing it around his hips and holding it together in his fist as he emerged from the ensuite, taking in the distressed look on her face.

But her look of distress quickly morphed into something else. He could visibly see her eyes darken as she unashamedly scanned him head to toe, her hungry gaze following the path the water droplets were making on their way down his body.

She took a step closer, then, to his surprise. He was already hardening again just taking in her own body’s response to his. And Harry definitely noticed the way her eyes widened when they reached the way he was tenting his towel, even held snug around his hips as it was.

And he could definitely smell her arousal, too. She must’ve been dripping with how potent it was. Harry was in limbo, frozen in place waiting for her to do something, anything. He knew she desperately wanted him, just as much as he wanted her, but he wasn’t going to push her. Not when he knew there was so much to–

His throat went dry immediately when her eyes traveled back up to meet his. Her eyes. It couldn’t be…

“I, uh, I forgot something in the car! Be right back!” he stammered, clutching his towel tightly as he made his way downstairs in a rush, all wet and slippery on the marble floor.

He not only went outside, but surpassed his car parked out front, and instead circled the property all the way to the furthermost corner of the expansive garden. He’d made sure to grab his phone first from the kitchen island where he’d left it, and dialed Niall’s number as soon as he was as far away from the house as he could get, given his state of undress.

An amused voice sounded from the other end when Niall finally picked up, “So… did you figure it out, yet?”

Chapter 12

A/N: (@fkinavocado and @gurugirl here) What do you think this all means for Harry & Y/N? Did you vote correctly?

please remember to like & reblog if you enjoyed this, and most importantly, come share your thoughts on it with us here 💌

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[probably-writing-x]

The Side You See

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Nobody ever understood how somebody like you could be with somebody like Rafe. I mean, come on, you two were polar opposites. But when everyone else would disappear, and it was just the two of you left, he was every bit a new person - a side of himself that he would show when it was only your eyes that could see him.

Warnings: Mentions of drug and alcohol use, some sexual hints if you really squint, drunk and hungover Rafe

Author’s Note: Thank you SO SO much for the love on my last couple of posts, I was so sure nobody would be bothered if I started posting again but you guys have exceeded every single expectation I had. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, I can’t wait to be writing more for you lovely bunch <3

(Also, please let me know if you want me to start up a taglist again on my posts if you’d like me to tag you in future work)

The party was winding down from full swing, bodies spilling into every room of the house, music pounding and drinks flowing. That was something people always guaranteed when Rafe hosted a party - nobody would be going home bored, and barely anybody would be going home sober. He made exceptions for you, and really only you. You’d never been much of a drinker, beyond a glass of champagne at a family wedding, and that’s one of the reasons why it surprised people so much when you were the one Rafe went after - the one he fell in love with. You were like polar opposites from what people could see - you sipped a red cup of lemonade, and he sniffed another line. But the thing about those differences, was that Rafe had learnt his limits when he had started dating you. He could still get drunk, get high, do anything he wanted to at a party, but he was never as bad as he used to be. This was his vice, the parties, the drugs, the drink, it was a release for him away from the stress of dealing with everything his family threw at him. You knew he had his troubles, everyone knew that, but this didn’t seem like much of a big one in comparison to everything else. 

“Hey baby!” His familiar deep voice calls out to you, soon accompanied by his arm slinking around your waist. 

You knew he was drunk when he started calling you pet names in front of other people. They all looked at him like he was no longer himself.

“Having fun?” You laugh, feeling him drop more of his weight onto you as you wrap an arm around him to steady him more before an inevitable fall. 

He hums, dipping his head to bury into your neck. Since the two of you started dating, he had become the clingiest drunk you’d ever known. Not that you were complaining all that much. Though it still took everyone by surprise when he was so public in his affections - the heartless Rafe showing a heart??

“I’ve missed you,” He mutters into your neck, kissing the soft skin there. 

“Rafe, we’ve been at the same party all night,” You roll your eyes, turning so that he can wrap both arms around you, your chests bumping together. 

“You look hot,” He whispers the words, his eyes scanning over you like he still didn’t believe he was the one that got to tell you that every day. 

You were wearing a cropped tank top and shorts, with one of his big shirts open over it all, so long that it grazed the middle of your thighs. He loved when you wore his clothes, a possessive trait he’d never lose - in the best way possible. 

“Rafe, honey, how much have you had?” You ask him, dragging a hand through his growing hair, trying to force his eyes onto you. 

He squints for a prolonged moment like he’s trying to focus on you, “I can’t remember.”

It was late by now, and he’d been drinking since dinner with Topper, and you were sure he was getting to be more and more of a lightweight.

“Do you want to go to bed?” You offer, running your hand down his arm, where the curves of his biceps clung to his shirt. 

He grins, clearly impressed by your suggestion, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips before turning around. Only then does he start shouting at the dispersing crowd to leave, swinging his arms around, taking cups out of peoples’ hands. They all inevitably oblige, because this was Rafe; you’d be stupid to not listen to him. 

Eventually, only the two of you remain as Topper and Kelce shout a slurred goodbye and something about wrapping it up, before they both walk off in the same direction. 

“Just us,” Rafe mumbles, stumbling in his steps as he walks back over to you on the porch. 

You laugh, “Babe, do you need to be sick?” 

He shushes you, flopping down onto the couch along one side of the wooden fence.

“You don’t want to sleep out here,” You roll your eyes at him, crouching down to his head height.

“But its so comfy,” He slurs, eyes closed and lips parting. 

“Rafe?”

Your only response is a soft snore from his parted lips, rumbling in the air between the two of you. You pull the throw from the back of the couch and drape it over him, taking one of the empty plant pots and setting it in front of him in case his stomach eventually rejected everything he’d put into his body, and you go back into the empty house to curl up on the sofa. Close enough that you could still see him. 

~~~

In the morning, you’re up when the sun is and Rafe is still flat out snoring on the porch sofa. He’s on his stomach with his hair spraying in different directions, his head on its side and his eyes flickering every so often in his slumber. You potter around the house clearing up the remaining mess left over from the party. There are enough red cups to fill up two full bin bags, clattering around the plastic with the beer bottles and cans. Once the lounge and kitchen are completely cleared, you go outside onto the porch and start picking up the bottles left out there too.

Rafe groans and shifts a little on the couch, his arm falling off of the cushion and dropping, his hand hitting the floor. It forces his eyes open, but they are slow and reluctant to do so.

“Morning, handsome,” You laugh, seeing the delirious confusion washing his face, clearly not sure where he was and with no idea as to how they’d got there.

Rafe grumbles, trying to move on the couch and coming to terms with where he was, “What happened?”

You stop putting the bottles into the bag and set it down, “Well, the bed felt a bit too far away last night, so you slept here.”

He groans again and stretches out his arms trying to push himself up, “Where did you sleep?”

“On the sofa,” You respond, your words much clearer than his.

“What?” Rafe had a thing about that, he didn’t like the idea of you sleeping on your own because he knew you never slept well.

He sits up against the back of the sofa and drags a hand over his face as if trying to clear the fuzzy feeling away from his head.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve been bad last night,” He shakes his head, “I can’t even remember what I had.”

“It’s okay,” You chuckle, “You weren’t bad, but your friends will probably have something to say about what you were saying to me.”

He groans again and stretches out his arms, “Cm’ere.”

“Let me just finish cleaning up,” You comment, throwing a few more bottles in the bag.

“That can wait,” He tugs at his shirt you’d been wearing, now buttoned up around you with nothing underneath.

You stumble over and he catches you in his arms, pulling you into his chest.

“Hi,” Rafe mumbles, burying his nose into your neck and breathing in the lingering smell of your perfume.

“How are you feeling?” You ask him, shifting your legs to either side of his thighs so that you straddled his hips.

“Like I need to sleep for another ten hours,” He says, shifting his arms around you so that they held you impossibly closer.

“You can go back to sleep, we haven’t got any plans today,” You nod, dragging hands through his hair to fix the curtains into place, “I haven’t got much left to clean up.”

“I don’t think you understood me,” He comments, shifting his weight before dropping back down onto the couch, with you now laying on top of him, “If I’m staying, you’re staying.”

You laugh and push yourself up on your hands, towering over his form. His features seem softer in the mornings, especially when he was hungover. His eyes are just a little shut, still adjusting to the light, his lips soft, his jaw lacking the tension that he normally held. You run your hand over his cheek, tracing his cheekbones down towards his jawline. Rafe tilts his head into your touch, tilting his head eventually and kissing softly at your fingertips.

“Can we just stay like this?” He hums, lifting one hand away from your waist to move it up and lace his fingers with yours, playing with the contact of your hand in his.

“Forever or just for today?”

He narrows his eyes, “I can’t see any reason we’d have to move.”

You laugh and press a kiss to the back of his hand, “Then we’ll stay.”

If his friends, or anyone on the island for that matter, saw him like this, they would think Rafe had a twin that they’d never met. They’d think that surely, Rafe Cameron didn’t wake up and cuddle his girlfriend and tell her he didn’t want to leave and kiss her with the softest touch. But this was him. This was every bit of the boyfriend you fell in love with, and continued to fall in love with a little more every morning.

“I love you (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” He’s half asleep, his eyes just closing, but he wouldn’t go to sleep without saying it this time.

“I love you too Rafe Cameron.”

His hands snake back low around your waist, gripping you tight against him and you let your head fall down onto his chest, listening to the slow drumming of his heartbeat. His legs find their way to tangle into yours and his breaths even out into sleep once more. In those moments, he was nothing but yours. And that’s how you wanted to stay.

#Rafe cameron #rafe #outerbanks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #outerbanks x reader #Rafe x you #rafe cameron x you #Outerbanks x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x y/n #outerbanks x y/n #rafe cameron outerbanks #rafe imagine #rafe cameron imagine #outerbanks imagine #rafe one shot #rafe cameron one shot #outerbanks one shot #outerbanks drabble #Rafe drabble #rafe cameron drabble #rafe blurb #rafe cameron blurb #Outerbanks blurb #Obx #netflix #outerbanks fanfiction #Rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction

[arabaka]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ hayakawa aki x fem!devil-reader. CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ !!! reader is a SEX DEVIL (aka succubus). m!receiving oral. ride 'im like a cowgirl baby!! aki bites 'n draws blood. WORD COUNT: 5.1k PSD CREDIT !!!

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI or I WILL SPOIL YOUR CROPS（ ꐦꉺωꉺ)つ

( ˊᵕˋ )♡.°⑅ dedicated to the aki queen, @meownotgood

*₊˚💬୧ more than likely will be a series hehe <;33

A devil so powerful, there’s a waiting list for contracts. A devil so desirable, contracts are cherry picked. Where other devils are flippant about who they loan their power to, you are meticulous. Not a hair out of place, some might say. You have your reasons. For as much as you give, you receive so little in return. A caveat to your power is your crutch for staying alive.

Because blood is easy to come by. Cum? That takes work.

It’s deplorable, the levels you have to sink to for a meager helping of your life source. Unbecoming of a devil your size, of your stature even. Yet the irony of being the Sex Devil is that you enjoy it.

You crave it. You wish you didn’t sometimes. But a life of debauchery on Earth is better than contending in Hell and you’ll prolong your inevitable return for as long as you’re able; you’ll just be picky about your participating party.

So when a hunter started to haunt the whispers of lower-grade devils, you took notice. Delighted even when you saw what this Hayakawa Aki looked like. Devil hunters are a dime a dozen. Handsome devil hunters with brains? He’s so delectable, you can eat him alive.

You chose to wait. Your modus operandi: you will not beg for a contract.

You keep Public Safety just under your heel; close enough to be mutually beneficial, but not enough to lose your agency. So when his name came up, you needn’t hear more because your contract with him was signed the moment you laid eyes on him. “You know where to send him.” Your voice curt, you hear the click on the phone line. And once again, you wait.

The rumble of his engine is unmistakable in the dead of night. He pulls up to your residence, car humming before subtly giving way to weighted silence. His knuckles flex pensively around the steering wheel, his skin illuminated by the moonlight cascading from above. Makima’s voice, ever beguiling, plays on repeat in his head. I’m sure you’ll find her to be very helpful.

You’re unlike any devil he’s heard of, much less made contracts with. He’s signed away much more for a lot less. Yet what you ask of him has him giving a cursory look in the vanity mirror, brushing away his fringe until it’s falling over his forehead just right. His reflection stares back, mimicking his expression as it goes from dispassionate to frustrated, brows knitting tight as he chides himself with the click of his tongue.

This whole arrangement– It’s demeaning. Sex with a devil. Fraternization with the like is off-putting enough. Necessary but revolting all the same. This, however? Is far removed from those arrangements. Offering up his flesh to satiate a devil’s voracious appetite is a superficial sacrifice. You require something much more consequential: vulnerability. And to be frank, no Devil deserves that.

From your bedroom, you watch him with a huff. What’s he waiting for? You can’t help but roll your eyes at his hesitation. Humans are all the same. They kid themselves, paying reverence to baseless morals but fold under duress. You’ve seen this before from devil hunters like him. They hold sex in a high regard, thinking it’s beneath them to cavort with a devil but their first step in your door and they’re clamoring for your affection, for you. So you find it pointless that Aki’s still lingering by his car, taking a smoke break while you stew in the delay. He’s lucky he’s hot.

Nicotine in his veins and senses dulled a smidge, Aki’s come to a resolution. He’s not leaving empty-handed and he’s wasted enough time. He snuffs his cigarette out, chucks it in the car’s ashtray and adjusts his tie. Force of habit.

When you find Aki at your door, he has that same glowering mug you’ve seen him with before. He looks at you like you’re another devil to exterminate. You’d be lying if you said disdain didn’t look good on him.

His eyes, tired and narrowed, drink in your appearance and you watch as his expression starts to soften; a symptom of your pheromones at work. You follow his gaze as it trickles downward, intrigued sensuality marbling his azure eyes because of your body, what you’re wearing. You could be completely bare and still bring a person to their knees but that’s hardly any fun.

“You like it?” Your purring should be grating on his ears but it sounds like a song, a siren’s song. His leg muscles tense up, hesitating to take a step further. That just won’t do, so you gingerly walk your fingers up his tie, tugging at the knot as if to say you’ll drag him the whole way if you have to. You peer up at him, thick lashes batting alluringly but you can see his vision is still focused on your body, on the babydoll lingerie that follows the curves of your body and hugs your breasts with sheer lace. You glow under his watch, glossy lips curling to a smile as he starts to buckle under the pressure of your power.

You look… Enticing. True to your name. It’s utterly humiliating how his defenses are lowering so easily, to a devil no less, but fighting it is futile. Maybe it’s better if he lends himself to the lush feeling flooding his brain, the tension building in the crosspoint of his slacks. He gulps, perhaps swallowing the last of his pride, as careful fingers reach out to touch the lace bodice that stretches down your abdomen. “Let’s get this over with.” He tries to say with a sullen attitude but chokes on his attempt at a stern tone. God, you’re evil. He thinks as he watches those pretty lips of yours contort to a smirk.

“Be nice or I’ll leash you.” You’re teasing… Are you? Your aura is starting to overtake him because now there’s an uncomfortable stretch between his legs, cock starting to stiffen as he imagines you, chain in hand and collar round his neck. He can physically feel the last strands of sanity leave his body the longer he loiters around you. There’s a voice in his head still decrying the very nature of what he’s about to do but the longer his eyes cling to you, the quieter that sound gets. He’s finding himself to be particularly attached to your breasts and the fanciful way the lacy shelf cups frame them, just barely tucking your nipples out of sight. At least you’re nice to look at…

You start to roll the length of his black silk tie around your palm, giving it a once over, gaze briefly flitting over to your suitor for the night. Dusting his cheekbones is the most satisfying shade of pink, so pretty in fact you wish you could swatch it. He looks even better like this, a little bothered with only a small helping of shame remaining. You can’t wait to wring him dry, see him sweat and pant in trying to keep up with you.

You’re making his skin prickle with goosebumps and a surge of heat swells in his body, steam practically fogging up his brain. “Oh,” You coo, finally giving him full recognition, “Let’s get you out of those clothes, hm?”

Aki trails behind you, a curve to his back as you keep him close, using his tie as a tether. Like a dog. Utterly demoralizing, the way you have him ogling your body like a wretched fool but the delicious sight of the swell of your ass, hugged so tightly by the hemline of your lingerie, goes right to the budding erection in his pants and he’s starting to like it.

Your room is large and far too lavish for a Devil, but oh so fitting for you. Catching his attention, more than anything, is your bed; round in shape and massive in size, it sits raised on a circular platform and comes complete with silk sheets, as well as a few haphazardly tossed cushions. You live far beyond any means Aki is used to, it’s almost too overwhelming for him to process all the furniture and embellishments. His brain can’t help but wander, if only for a moment. Were your furnishings gifts? Supplied and paid for by Public Safety, for your services? He should feel disgust at this, logic still tells him as much, but he can’t find it in him to even broach that emotion. What he can feel, however, is his entire body and mind start to sink down, down, down under the weight of your influence.

You walk him to your bed, tie still in hand, gingerly motioning him to sit against the headboard with your palm now at his chest. He caves under your persuasion, watching with bated breath as you climb on top of him, your legs split as you take a seat on his lap.

Oh, you croon to yourself as you come to graze the thick outline of his dick bobbing in his slacks, he’s perfect. Your tail, long and crimson with an arrowed tip, flicks about enthusiastically. “Where have you been hiding?” You mumble, just loud enough for Aki to hear but you’re not exactly wanting an answer. He’s pliant in your hands, letting you cup his face as if to examine him closely. “Open.” You order and much to his surprise…

He listens. Now it’s not fully unexpected, your wiles have already wrecked havoc on his system after all, but it almost feels like he’s a foreigner in his own body. He parts his lips for you and you giggle. “See, not so bad now right? You humans get so hung up on the littlest of things.” When you talk, you have a lilt to your voice that’s a little mean, a little mocking, and his cock twitches because of it. “You should consider yourself lucky.” Now your thumb is pressing into his tongue, your face glowing with delight as you watch saliva slowly start to pool in Aki’s gaping mouth. “This is as mutually beneficial as it gets.” Your face gets so close, so fast, he can’t register fast enough when you lick into him, replacing your thumb with your tongue in a nasty, wet open kiss.

The groan that comes bubbling from his throat catches him off guard but more importantly, makes Aki realize something. He never stood a chance against you. Even someone with as strong a willpower as he can find all sensibility washed away by your essence. Right now, as far as he is concerned… You’re as powerful as it gets.

Aki’s eyelashes flutter apart, his pupils blown out but under a strong haze. Warmth is shrouding his body once more but now he feels fuzzy, a little lighter even. Your lips on his are irresistibly soft but your kiss is forward, pressing on his so much they already feel sore. God, why do you feel so good? Is this really what you’re capable of? How are you not kept under lock and key? His brain is swimming in these thoughts while he squirms under you, the stiff bulge in his slacks pressing into your clothed cunt as his hips impulsively jerk into you.

Your lips leave his far sooner than he would have liked but you can’t help yourself from taking a gander at your handiwork. He’s always been so beautiful with his stoic face and striking blue gaze but seeing him like this, jaw slacked and reduced to a desperate mess? He’s the best he’s ever looked.

“Pretty, pretty, pretty.” You murmur as you start to litter kisses from his jawline to his neck, hands fanning over his chest as you start to push back his suit jacket. He seems to follow your suggestion, rolling the shoulders off and you complete the circuit, dragging the sleeves off his arms and tossing it aside with little regard. Aki can’t be bothered to care. With his coat off, he faces the reality of how fever hot his skin feels, how you’re the only one who can provide some relief so with a crackling voice, he breathes, “Please.”

He’s begging you. He’s begging a Devil.

And he loves it.

Why was he ever fighting this?

Pop, pop, pop. One after the other, the buttons on Aki’s dress shirt come undone and he hisses at the sudden contact of cool air brushing over his skin. You draw savory sounds from him, first his breath hitching and then a subdued moan, as you lick a stripe up his abdomen and pucker your lips around the plane of his pec. You revel in the taste, in the way his skin squishes in your mouth. The more you suck at the skin, the more he writhes underneath you and now is when he finally has his hands on you, gripping tight on your hips. You wriggle your ass, giving one last nibble to his chest and feeling a surge of pride when you see how his pretty pale skin is now bruised. Marked.

You sigh like a dream when you look at Aki, flushed and bothered under you, but he’s only down a shirt. You need to see him stripped down, to satisfy the curiosity that’s been swimming in your brain since you first learned of the rather handsome hunter. Struggling to inhale, Aki lets out a hoarse, “C-Come on.” But he doesn’t speak with the same reason for his urgency as before - to get it over with - now he is pleading because he so badly needs to feel the rush of pleasure you’ll no doubt give him.

Aki tracks your finger as it glides up his torso until it’s crooked around his chin, giving him no other choice but to meet your slit gaze when you tell him plain and simple, “Get up then.”

To be honest, you crave him just as badly so you’re on your knees and on the floor in an ardent rush, meeting his clothed erection and nursing it through his slacks with a palm that opens and closes almost tauntingly… Because at the end of the day, you’re a Devil and you love playing with your food.

Painstakingly slow, you start to undo his belt. His heart is pounding. Then down goes the zipper. He struggles to breathe. Your fingers, ginger and lithe, bundle the waistbands of his slacks and underwear together and with one downward tug, his cock is freed, springing out and it looks… So much better than you could have ever imagined.

He’s long, his length having the slightest upward curve to it with a fat and pinkened tip at the end, and he’s thick with veins overlaid on and around his girth. A fine meal for a hard working succubus like yourself. You squeeze an exquisite whine from Aki when your fingers finally come to circle around the base of his member and a greater moan when your tongue, hungry and flat, draws a line on its undershaft until you get to the pre-cum bubbling at the tip. You ground the head of his cock along your tastebuds, committing to memory his personal flavor as you lick him clean. Oh, you’re going to want seconds for the rest of this poor soul’s life.

“Fuck.” The word is heavy, riding off an exhale as you flood Ak with heightened pleasure, far sharper and stronger than anything he’s ever felt before, just with your tongue on his cockhead. You smile around the tip, parting your mouth with the pressure of his cock as he finally starts to sink into your wet and hot mouth. The groan he releases is guttural and carnal as you suck all around him, smoothly swallowing his length to the base and never breaking eye contact. You’re so delighted watching him fold in your hands that you get right to it, pumping his shaft with a rolling wrist, your mouth never far behind as you coat him in your drool.

“G-God.” How can you make your mouth so tight, it feels like he’s fucking into you already? And the way you look at him, with shallow adoration, has his stomach flipping and his heart bumping. He knows you’ll eat him alive and he feels like he’ll let you at this rate. His lips twist but it’s no use, a string of moans keeps his mouth at a constant gape as you pamper him with your tongue swirling, dashing, and criss-crossing all over his cock. You dip your head low, humming around him with a mewl of your own when he reflexively jerks into you, pressing his cockhead to the back of your mouth but you keep on. As if that would stop you.

Every slope down his cock, Aki is treated to the sight of your tits, caged by the satin straps of your babydoll ensemble, bouncing with your nipples slipping out a little more each time. His fingers twitch, eager to find out how they would feel cupped in his hands. “You’re unbelievable.” You have him grunting and cursing. It felt like just a minute ago, he was looking at you like you were scum of the earth. Now he’s revering you like a god.

Digits still shuddering, his hands come to the sides of your head for some relief. Your hair is so soft, he can’t help but dig in, fingernails curling into your scalp with little regard for any pain he may cause you. You don’t stop so neither does he. He can’t take his eyes off you, never wanting to forget how you look with his length completely disappeared inside you, your cheeks hollowed out and all because of him. You’re perfect just like this, he thinks.

You start to gag, but not because he’s too much. You gag to gauge his reaction. His cock bobs in your mouth and you swear you feel him get harder as you sputter and choke around his shaft and now with a hand at the crown of your head, you know you’ve hit the spot. So he’s one of those. You note as you continue to amplify those juicy sounds of yours, rubbing your thighs in anticipation as he starts to meet you halfway with jutted hips. The closer he gets, the sloppier he is you can’t help but notice as his movements start to become ragged in pursuit of his climax.

Ecstasy building, Aki’s head lulls back and his lids shudder shut as he feels your fist clutch him harder, tighter, dragging his foreskin into your mouth with your tongue poking in and lapping up any spare pearls of pre-cum. You moan, on your own, at his intoxicating flavor, eagerly awaiting for the rest to come filling your mouth until you’re filled with his taste. You lose yourself so much in lavishing his cock that you don’t see it coming when his hand digs into your fringe, pulling your head back so he can get a better look while he face-fucks you.

You’re actually glad he did because now you can see him truly at his lowest point. His raven locks are sticking to his face and temples with a layer of sweat making him glow under the dimmed lights in the room. You can no longer see the cerulean blues in his eyes; all you can see are his pupils, wide with lust, sizing you up as he starts to roll his hips into you, following the rhythm you’d already set. “Fuck,” He spits, “Feel so good. Gonna cum soon.”

Soon was an understatement. At the pace you were going, he could cum any moment. Your mouth was a cavern for him to exploit and you clearly were letting him, allowing him to start fisting your hair for some stability while he rocks into you. The force of his orgasm starts to build fast, his balls tightening as the rush comes like a flood. His cum shoots in dense strings, filling your mouth until the salty taste is all your senses can register. He shudders into you, groans dying out as he finishes emptying his load inside of you.

Seeing you swallow his climax has his adam’s apple bobbing with a gulp. Your eyes seem to brighten, the color of your irises glowing with the ingestion of Aki’s semen, and your tail swats in the air in a clear display of elation. His cum goes right to the core of your being, lighting your flame and making you feel full… But you’re not satisfied. Not yet.

Your lips run down the measure of his cock until you’ve finally parted, with Aki fixated on you the entire time. His member, drenched in your saliva and still swollen, trembles in the cooled air and the only noise in the room is Aki’s soft panting. You’ve only been off him for a few seconds but he already needs to be inside you again, that much he’s certain of.

"Is that…" His voice whines down so he tries to repeat himself, taking a breath this time beforehand, "Is that it?"

The poor thing. He thinks it's over. He thinks he's already wrapped up his end of the bargain. "Mmh-nn." You hum, lips back on the tip of his cock while your tail bats in the air with interest. You hear him sharply inhale, his eyes instantly shutting again as you lick quick lines on the surface, poking into his still leaking slit a couple of times. “That was just the appetizer. The first load is always the tastiest.”

Aki watches you rise to your feet, body moving so gracefully and sensually you have him captivated. It’s twisted, how he follows your every movement, bewitched by how you toy with the strap hanging on your shoulder. You invite him with the curl of your finger to take over and that he does, hands much larger than yours plucking the lingerie straps and slipping them down and off your arms. The fancy night dress you’d been wearing joins the rest of Aki’s clothes in a rush, neither of you wanting to be apart for any longer than you had to.

Now nude, you direct Aki to the bed, where the real show will begin.

With Aki on the bed, you crawl on top and there he’s able to fully appreciate the form you’ve taken, ogling your body like a debased pervert. You’re a tease, lowering enough to hover right above the bulge of his cockhead but never dipping any more than that. His hand, albeit shaky, comes to land on your waist, a calloused thumb pushing into your smooth skin and rubbing circles just to feel you. “Please.” The word leaves his mouth faster than his brain can process and you just adore the way you can visibly see him melt for you.

“Please what?”

“Please,” Now he has both hands on you, “Sit on my cock.”

Now that makes you smile wide. “Yes sir.” There’s a snide intonation of your voice when you address him but he doesn’t give a fuck. All he can think about is you, you, you.

Your hips sink, the tip of his dick smoothing along your folds and pressing into your entrance until the pressure is enough to break through and he’s in. And god, you’re already so tight, you have his lungs struggling to get a single breath in. Your walls crease and mold to his girth and for all the trouble you’ve caused him, you’re making up for it and he hasn’t even filled you to the hilt yet.

“S-Shit.” You were starting to think you’d never see the day when Hayakawa Aki, one of the most highly regarded members of Public Safety, would fall prey to your lascivious spell but here he is, hissing as he’s pulling you down on his cock with depraved hunger. Grunting, Aki digs his head back into your pillow but he forces his eyes open, needing to see you take him all the way and when you do, you’re such a sight to behold. Your lips, swollen from sucking him off, part in delicious rapture and you see stars having him all the way inside you. The corners of your mouth turn upward, a smile coming over your features as you feel the slightest hint of trembling in Aki’s thighs as you come to a full seat on his member.

The way he feels inside you is unlike anything you’ve had before, and you’ve definitely charmed your fair share of characters but this Aki… He’s more special than you took him for. Your walls flutter around him, hugging his cock nice and snug so that you feel every twitch, every throb he helplessly gives you. “You ready?” You ask but it’s not up for debate. You grind your clit against his pelvis on your way up, following the curve of Aki’s shaft before bouncing back down on his length.

He’s so dense, thick inside you that you could imagine him easily breaking you, if you let him. But you’re in control here and he seems game for it, what with how wanton his gaze on you is and how sternly he’s gripping your waist. He’s so deep in you, you feel him poking against your core and that has your heart drumming so vigorously, you can hear your heartbeat so clearly in your ears along with Aki’s moans and the erotic sounds of wet skin smacking together.

Your pace starts slow enough, giving you time to relish how he stuffs your gummy walls on every swing up but you’re both in agreement that it’s not enough. You both need more and as though you’re in sync, he starts to jerk his hips into you, cramming further inside you while you dig down just as harshly. The way you’re rubbing down on him has you coating him in your slick, the mass of your juices, and it’s so much that it’s spilling down his balls and lap. That only makes it easier for him to thrust into you, forcing your body to roll along his shaft and bend to the new rhythm he’s setting.

How can one human feel this good? He has you feeling so high, so overwhelmed with the weight of his cock inside your cunt, that you don’t even notice his hand reaching out to your forearm and unexpectedly forcing you down so your chest is flush against his and your lips are just mere inches from each other. That certainly isn’t the case for long, as Aki immediately forces his lips on you in a rough and needy kiss. Your tongue is still coated in his essence, his taste, and he laps it up in a frenzy. Your own sweetness tingles in his mouth, sending a hypnotizing rush to his brain that has him feeling like he’ll never recover from this. Like he’ll never recover from you.

Your pussy still swallowing his cock, Aki’s hands land squarely on your ass and start to firmly squeeze your plush flesh, nails sharply piercing your skin until he knows he’s drawing blood. You whine and moan into his mouth, all muffled because there’s no way in hell he’s letting you break the kiss. “Don’t you dare pull away.” Aki growls and for once, you’re listening to a Devil Hunter as he starts to mercilessly buck his hips, thrusting harshly into you like you’re just a toy for him to abuse. Anyone else would be screaming, crying for a reprieve but not you.

His length penetrates you so roughly while the thickness of his cock has you full to the brim and the combination of both is sure to be a new addiction of yours. Now you’re thinking crazy, wondering if you should just drop all your other contracts if this Aki will keep business with you. Any sensible thought is pounded out of you soon enough, Aki’s hips crashing against your bottom fast and hard. Your kiss with him is just as cruel, his teeth capturing your puffy bottom lip and sharply biting down until the vulgar taste of blood is dripping into his mouth. You whimper but never tell him to stop. Why would you when he feels so good?

Too good, in fact. He told you to stay put but you can’t help it, you come to rise, still with his length fully inside you and resume your earlier position of bobbing up and down on his cock but now with a more reckless flair. As you do, as you near your climax, a script starts to sear itself into your pelvis. “The–” Oh now you’re the stuttering fool, “t-the contract.” You choke out, the outline of the brand charred in your skin.

Aki’s mystified by you, by what’s happening before him. Still ramming into your tight pussy, his hands move from your wiggling ass to digging his nails harshly into the design scorching itself on your supple flesh. You yelp, face glimmering with a layer of sweat, but your cries hit a new pitch when one hand dives down towards your cunt, thumb messily running circles around your clit. “Fucking cum for me then. I’m gonna fill you up.” Where did this man find his grounding? Your head rolls back, lips quivering with a never ending string of lewd noises as your thighs begin to give out– no, give way to Aki’s domination.

Now on a firm seat on Aki’s lap, his hips thrash against you until he feels his member swelling and pulsating inside you, against your narrowing walls that dare to swallow him whole. As he does, an inscription he can’t totally make out starts to appear on your pelvis but one thing’s for sure; you look good with his name in kanji branded on you.

“Cumming– fucking take it, devil.” You crumble all around him, your sopping wet cunt fluttering all around him as you too, start to feel your release bubble up until spilling over. He pumps into you every last drop of his cum but you still feel yourself trembling long after he’s finished.

Your pants of recovery cut through the silence in the room. What the hell was that? This man… He’s not human. Not with the way he just fucked you. You’re going to keep this one, even if it takes all your power. You’ll keep him safe, you promise to yourself… So long as he keeps up his end of the deal.

You feel empty when his cock finally leaves you and even more so when Aki gets himself dressed and ready to go. If you had it your way, you’d keep him there all night and all day… Though you guess humans need more than sex to refuel. A pity.

“Guess this is it.” Aki mumbles at your front door but you stop him from taking a step further, dainty little nails curling around the sleeve of his jacket as you look up at him with ravenous glint in your eyes, “Oh, didn’t Makima tell you? This contract is ongoing. I’ll ring you up when I need more.”

Shit. What did he get himself into?

#aki hayakawa x you #aki hayakawa x reader #aki x you #aki x reader #aki hayakawa #csm imagine #csm x you #csm x reader #aki #aki hayakawa x y/n #aki x y/n #aki hayakawa smut #csm smut #x f reader #x fem!reader #.˚₊ ੈ ʚ 🍰 ɞ ₊˚. ꒰ a little treat for aki. ꒱

[deathbxnny]

Alright! After debating which characters i want to use for this idea, i chose Lyney! So can i request Lyney x reader where he and reader does a ballroom dance under the moonlight. The Merry Go Round of Life ost is honestly a perfect song for a ballroom dance so i have to request a ballroom dance! Also this ask is kinda similar to your Furina post, but..

Let me explain:

So the reader is Lyney’s crush and Lyney is also the reader’s crush. Their love for each other is mutual but both of them have yet to confess. The reader is wating for Lyney to be the one to confess while Lyney… Lyney plans to never confess to them. Despite really wanting to, he can’t. He won’t because if he does that would mean getting the reader involved in the Fatui which he vehemently does not want to happen. So he trapped the both of them in this dance of Will They or Wont They because while he doesnt want to be actual lovers for their safety, this dance will at least let him believe an illusion that they are one. He knows the reader will get tired of this dance but that’s fine with him. He will enjoy every second of this dance until the reader eventually finds a new dancing partner lover.

But until then, he will let himself believe this illusion as it lets him forget all his problems and be in love for once.

(I should probably mention that i have yet to play Fontaine so idk how accurate Lyney is in this request but even if he does date someone, i still think he wouldnt be too keen on having his S/O involved in his Fatui business. Am i right on that assumption?)

- Flower Anon 🌸

I love your brain, Flower Anon! This is such an interesting idea, but I might change it up a little, so I hope you like it anyways and I thank you for your request!<33

(Part two)

Content: Heavy angst?, Mutual pinning but no confession, hurt/kind of no comfort, ballroom dancing, hints of depression, Lyney is a bit of a liar, sfw Reader has no metioned pronouns!! ((Not fully proofread))

《No happy endings. (Lyney x Gn!Reader)》

In a way, Lyney always knew his love for you would backfire eventually.

Whether it was due to his own actions or his family's "business," he knew this couldn't ever turn out the way he wanted to. That eventually, he'd have to pull away from you for good. But he was selfish for way too long, perhaps even in denial. He ignorantly thought he could manage his many lies with the same ease he balanced his magic tricks on stage. And yet, it all came to a head the day "Father" told them of their important mission.

A mission he knew would end in nothing but heartbreak and loneliness.

He ofcourse tried to prolonge his doom for as long as he could, mainly because he just couldn't let go of you. He didn't want to, and it was so painfully obvious to everyone around him. It didn't help that he knew that you loved him back, too. Neither of you ever dared to confess, however, something he was thankful for until now. It made things a little easier, or at least it did, until you one day visited him at one of his street shows with a letter in hand, inviting him to a grand ball in the theater.

You were glowing under the bright sun, your smile wide enough to make him breathless. Lynette gave him a glance, an unreadable one he still understood anyway. After their last meeting with their "Father", she had bluntly asked him what he was going to do with you now. This wasn't the first time she had asked him this either. But everytime she did, his words would dry out in his mouth and he'd be left there speechless, unable to come up with a solution.

The issue was clear as day, however. It's either he confessed to you or he didn't. For a while, he entertained the idea of doing so, just so he can finally hold you the way he so desperately wanted to. But Lynette wasn't letting him dream anymore. If he confessed, then he'd have to lie to you about everything. And it was inevitable that eventually, one day, you'd find out about their real identities. Would you stay then? Freminet quietly shaking his head at his older brothers question was enough to make him finally wake up to the reality of the situation.

No, ofcourse you wouldn't stay, because he had deceived you for so many years. Perhaps you'd be able to look past the Fatui aspect, but not the lies.

He hadn't been the same since and everyone noticed. Even you, who was so desperate to cheer him up from the unknown issue that was clouding his mind. Always so ready to help him through everything, despite not knowing you were the cause of his plight. And he regrettably loved that about you the most.

"You... want to go to the ball with me? Ah... I-" "-Please? I've been wanting to go with you for a while, and I'm sure it will do us some good to catch a break." You said quickly, afraid of his rejection when you haven't even tasted the beginning of it yet. The blonde man bit his lip, his eyes meeting Lynette's for help, who simply looked away stubbornly. She had warned him of this. At this point, she wondered who's feelings she was really trying to save. Her twin brothers or her dear friends? She didn't know and hoped it would all just come to a quick, painful end.

Lyney sighed softly, unable to ever say no to you in the end, as he forced a smile to grace his lips. "Why ofcourse then! Let's make the night count!" He said in his usual grandiose tone, his heart fluttering as you gave him an excited giggle and hugged him, quickly taking your leave with a gleeful thanks. The twins watched you round a corner, the young man deflating with every step you took.

He pressed a hand against his face the moment you disappeared, his breath a little uneven and shaky. His smile wobbled until it finally dropped entirely. Even smiling had become too exhausting to do. Lynette simply stared before she shook her head and crossed her arms tightly. Someone had to be the responsible one here, and as much as it hurt her... she had to be the one to push him over the edge. "You'll end it after the ball. You have to." She whispered to him, leaning in close enough to notice the teary, near empty gaze glinting in his eyes.

He always loved too hard.

"I... ofcourse I will. You're right." He muttered in a near daze as he gathered up his cards off the floor from a previous performance. He looked so small, all his pride and grandiose having been shattered the moment he realised that his life and free will never belonged to him to begin with.

---

The days flew past him afterwards and by the time the night of the ball arrived, it was like he had woken up from a bad fever dream. He stood in the now crowded theater room, dazed and dressed in a lavish suit he only barely remembered to have put on with his siblings' help. He had attempted to stall having to come here, but his "father's" dark glare from the door way made it clear that she wasn't going to entertain his "distraction" being around him anymore either.

Fountaine's whole existence stood on the line, so how dare he hesitate? How dare he care about being heartbroken, when people are going to die?

His hazy mind nearly didn't recognize your radiating form when you approached him in absolute glee. Your hands took his gloved one's, tightly grasping them, as you spoke of your happiness to be here with him. You had dragged him outside onto one of the massive balconies, the moonlight mirrored in your beautiful eyes, and for a moment, everything around him disappeared. He could hear your words slow down, the panic kicking in full force when he realised what you were attempting to do, his mouth moving faster than his heart could stop it.

"Lyney, what I want to say is that I lov-" "-Let's dance. Let us please dance." He whispered breathlessly, his head spinning as he grasped onto your hip and took your hand into his. He couldn't process the hurt in your eyes, the way you pressed your lips together, tried mentally reasoning with yourself that he hadn't indeed just bluntly rejected you.

But he was quicker, the music filtering outside from the grand ballroom and mingling with the warm night air, as Lyney waltzed with you to it's melody. His mind was racing with so many thoughts and possibilities, his brain and heart tearing at his soul into opposite directions. He was hesitating. Despite knowing exactly what he had to do, the words just couldn't spill out yet. He gave himself time until the end of the song, his face flushing with a misplaced sense of excitement for being so close to you at last.

Yet you knew something was off about him. Perhaps it was the way he danced so clumsily. Perhaps it was the growing anxiety in his eyes that couldn't look into yours, and maybe it was the way his breath was so painfully labored, as though something was weighing down on his heart, suffocating him. Whatever it was, it made you slowly become frustrated.

Years of showing your affection to the magician seemed to have been brushed off and forgotten in that moment. And you weren't foolish enough to believe that he didn't feel the same for you. So what was he waiting for? What was holding him back? You couldn't understand, and so, when he spun you out, his hand only weakly keeping you from getting away from him, you finally uttered the words that burned on your tongue.

"Why are you hesitating?"

He looked at you for the first time since the waltz began, his eyes widening with unshed tears as he gulped, his throat so painfully dry. The melody was about to end, the orchestra leading up to it with suspense, somehow fitting for what he was about to do. He was happy that, despite everything, he was able to delude himself into thinking you two can be one, even for a single night. So perhaps his only regret was to not have been born in the right time and world for you.

"Because I can't love you. Not in this life. But I promise that nothing will stop me in the next."

The music came to an end, the wild and near deafening roar of the crowd in the ballroom filling this sobering silence between you two. It was his best performance, his best final magic trick, in which he'd make his own heart vanish. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your hand, unable to look at your shocked and tear-filled expression.

Lyney had made peace with himself and the situation in that moment, even when you wordlessly pulled away from him and quickly ran past him. He stood under the moonlight, still bowed, his hand reaching for nothing until he summoned his hat from thin air and elegantly put it on his slicked back hair. The blonde turned to look behind him as he did so, only barely seeing you vanish in the thick crowd as you wiped away your tears.

And somehow, he had it in him to smile, not out of amusement of what he had done to you, but rather at the realisation that he truly always did belong to a puppet show in a way.

What a shame that the script had no happy ending from the start.

Alrighttt... I hope this was okay for you, Flower Anon! And sorry for taking so long, exam season is not for the weak...

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact x reader #genshin lyney #genshin lyney x reader #lyney x reader #lyney #lyney x you #lyney x y/n