#the scribes

[larissa-the-scribe]

guys I had this realization the other day that Redwall works really well for reading aloud, and kinda half-remembered something about the author reading to kids? So I looked it up to see if I had made a connection.

And it turns out, yes, actually, because he read aloud to kids at a school for the blind. But all the books they gave him to read were depressing. So he wrote Redwall, a story about heroism and courage and making it through struggles, and filled it with so many sensory, visual details so he could give them something better and I just-- that's so wholesome-- help

#my theory is that all good childrens books are written with LOVE #and he clearly loved these kids #anyway I got kind of emotional at that #as someone who read Redwall as a kid and was inspired to be brave #also I left this in my drafts for a while oops #but yeah I have feelings #redwall #brian jacques #reading #scribe rambles

[scripture-pictures]

#the scribes #summer #sunflower #daily bread #nightly bread #god is love #bible

[daily-prompts]

What are you guys working on??

#fiction #writing #writing inspiration #words #writers on tumblr #any way #if you guys want me to do scribe my wip I can #but boy howdy it’s confusing

[dani-dear]

Maximus!!

#my art #fallout #fallout show #fallout on prime #maximus #I rly like the scribe outfits..makes everyone look so smart idk #fanart

[numinous-scribe]

Siblings by trial and choice

So @noir-renard posted a prompt in Haunting Heroes a little while ago that's had me in a perpetual choke hold ever since.

When the Portal ZAPS Danny, he doesn't just get turned into a half ghost; he gets catapulted halfway across the galaxy. So now he's stuck on an alien ship, trying to deal with new powers, and desperately searching for a way home.

And my immediate thought was "How can I make this about Starfire?", from which everything spiraled.

[Click the pictures for better quality!]

Having assumed that the portal wasn't even supposed to be functional, Danny had absolutely no basis for anything that was happening to him. Not his new look or powers, not for wherever he was, and certainly not for the predicament of where he landed-- A ship he would later come to know as belonging to the slavers known as the Gordanians.

For all Danny knew, he certainly wasn't human anymore, and he might not have even been in the same dimension either; while Earth had been seeing more and more interactions with aliens, he'd never seen any quiet like these, and his parents had said that the portal was designed to view a whole other world.

And that was terrifying! He was Danny Fenton, just fourteen, and so far out of his depth it wasn't even funny. If it weren't for Koriand'r then Danny didn't know how he would have kept it all together.

As it were, Kor'i had already been enslaved for four years by this point. She knew what it was like to suddenly be cut off from everything she'd ever known, and the torment that was awaiting this strange boy that had appeared in a flash of green light. So even though she had nothing to give, Kor'i stuck by Danny's side.

Together, for the next two years, they fed each other hope.

Naturally, returning to Earth was a big ordeal for Danny, and by proxy for Kor'i as well. Over the two years they spent enduring harsh labor and torture from both their Gordanian captors and the Psions, Danny had confided in all sorts of stories about his home world and vice versa Kor'i about Tamaran. After confirming that he hadn't been transported to another reality, and that this was his Earth, Danny had been so excited to return home and to introduce Kor'i to his friends and family.

But while Earth was still the same, home... was not.

His parents were in jail; not only for their unethical and code violating lab, but because they were so neglectful to the point that minors were able to get into the lab unsupervised and one of them— Danny —was able to access their faulty machine and, presumably, died.

Jazz got picked up by the state, but quickly managed to get herself emancipated and now lived in some other state attending college.

The Manson's moved. Sam was a wreck and not coping well at all; her parents were considering having her committed to an institution for a bit to help her last anyone had heard.

The Foley's couldn't afford to move, so Tucker had to carry on with life as well as he could. He's quiet now, not as verbose and shameless as before, more of a hermit than anything.

And since he's been presumed dead, and can't figure out how to disprove that, honestly, Danny doesn't know how to pick back up where he left off. He can't. Because everything, including him, has changed as well.

But, like she's always done since the moment they met, Kor'i was there for him. And now they have a new family in the Teen Titans as well.

Bonus:

Close ups of Phantom and Starfire. Danny's suit design is a mixture of some of his original concept art and @the-stove-is-on-fire's designs :)

#scribe's work #tt!danny&starfire au #dpxdc #dpxdc crossover #dpxdc art #dcxdp #dcxdp crossover #dcxdp art #long post

[wickedsrest-rp]

NAME: The Scribes

FOUNDING: While humanity as a whole continues to be unaware of the beasts they share their world with, supernatural threats only continue to grow. In places like Wicked’s Rest with high supernatural activity, this poses not only a threat to the town, but an ever growing risk to humanity itself. In the year 2000, when a giant egg appeared out in Gatlin Fields, this small group of humans who knew better than most knew they had to pull together for the better of the town. These future scholars determined that in order to protect everyone, the best thing they could do was compile and learn from as much information as they could. They observed the supernatural world around them. They took field notes. They searched for sources of information that spanned that globe. They put themselves in danger in order to learn. They made allies and developed their own philosophy. This marked the beginning of what would later be known as The Scribe Organization, and their collective goal was to gather information about the supernatural world that might later help protect humanity. The stewards of this information would come to call themselves the Scribes, and Wicked’s Rest seemed the perfect location to continue to grow their Library, located in their Oldtown Headquarters. 

PASSING THE TORCH: Today, some of those original founders continue to work at the growing Scribe Organization. Others may have passed the torch to their children, who could have been raised to understand the importance of their parents’ work, or perhaps only learned the truth about it as an adult. Some expectation of legacy seems to have already formed. Some of the founders spread far and wide across the globe, specializing in collecting knowledge on farflung creatures, while others stayed in Wicked’s Rest, trying to anticipate the next disaster. One thing is certain – as hard as the founders worked, there is still so much information that needs to be collected.

INFORMATION & KNOWLEDGE: Today, many Scribes are still dedicated to field research and observing what they see in the world, taking studious notes to file away. While they’ve proven their use in many situations already, the Library was only getting started, and some Scribes may dedicate themselves to collections of supernatural volumes, while others may be more focused on the keeping and preservation of knowledge. Other Scribes may function more like archaeologists or anthropologists, going out in the world and getting their hands dirty in the name of learning. More recently, Scribes have amassed several rarely disclosed locations that house dangerous artifacts. These have the potential to cause harm in the wrong hands – or the Scribes may simply not know enough about an artifact to keep in their main headquarters at the Library. Should some of these artifacts fall into the wrong hands, the results could be catastrophic. Scribes, however, feel strongly that they are the right hands. 

MORALITY: Above all else, the Wicked’s Rest Scribes seek to keep the town and humanity as a whole safe from the numerous threats it faces day in and day out. They’ve developed their own codes and philosophy to help guide them in this lofty endeavor. Within their code, Scribes agree to be pragmatic with all issues the town faces and like to map out potential consequences of sharing valuable knowledge. Scribes pride themselves on their objectivity and prioritize accordingly, with the greater good in mind. They operate as a democracy and every decision the organization makes is put to a vote amongst its ranks. To some, this can become frustrating as it can sometimes take a while for decisions to be made.

The Scribes are aware that they share the town with many non-human species as sentient as they are. On this matter, they also strive for neutrality. They tend to avoid working with any individuals who have only violence in mind, or individuals of any species that are currently attempting to exert control over the town. In general, they have a vested interest in keeping the supernatural secret from humans who are not in the know. Given their study on the subject and personal experience, they know just how dangerous it can be when humans begin to pry into the supernatural. Some Scribes see the irony (or hypocrisy) in this more than others, but most agree it’s for the best. 

Each Scribe has their own approach, but as a whole, they will work neutrally with any species, provided they have assessed the situation, need, motive, and likely outcomes to be for the greater good. While it is rare they will interfere with different disputes among species, if things escalate to a certain point, Scribes will provide necessary information to other parties that are de-escalating any conflict. They tend to focus on large-scale issues that plague the town as a whole as these tend to require more specialized knowledge. Scribes will also keep records of events like this in order to help future generations who may encounter similar problems. 

SECRECY: Because of their recent founding, even those who grew up within the supernatural community may not have heard of the Scribes. Though the Scribes value working with others, they also value secrecy and ultimately wish to remain relatively undisturbed. They understand that the knowledge they hold is valuable, and as such, Scribes typically reveal themselves only when they feel the situation or time call for it, so as not to put a target on their back or cause greater conflict. However, regardless of being covert, those with a keen interest in the supernatural, as well as those in need of assistance, often find themselves face to face with the Scribes. 

RECRUITMENT: In order to even enter the Library, an invite from one of its stewards is required. Information in the wrong hands can be a very dangerous thing and those rare few who are invited to join the Wicked’s Rest Scribes, rather than legacied in, are thoroughly vetted. New members are occasionally recruited by an active scribe who has deemed them trustworthy. Before officially joining, recruits have to take a test with both multiple choice and written answers. For the character portion of the exam, the paper is spelled to prevent lying. Part of this section is an oath to not commit violence or murder. While not impossible to circumvent this spellwork here, in order to cheat one has to be very skilled at compartmentalization. The oath itself is not magically binding.

COMMUNITY DYNAMICS: While the Wicked’s Rest Scribes themselves are pledged to nonviolence, they will share information with hunters, vampires, spellcasters, and a variety of species to help take down any threats to the town. They have a network of people in town who they may be able to call upon to help, and they wish to grow that network. Their goal is to be respected by most species (at least, the individuals who know of them) due to their pragmatism when it comes to keeping all citizens of Wicked’s Rest safe. However, they’re not quite there yet. Some species may not appreciate being studied, while others might feel the Scribes are “useless” because they don’t take up arms themselves and instead try to remain neutral which sometimes leads to detrimental inaction. Opinions differ based on who you talk to and what the latest conflict was. Some notable dynamics are below: 

Hunters: Scribes and hunters use each other as valuable resources in the exchange of information pertaining to the supernatural. Because the Scribes are a predominantly human organization, some hunters disapprove of them being involved in the supernatural, and especially of them disseminating information to others who aren’t in that world. Scribes can also cast judgment on hunters who kill indiscriminately or feel that they own certain knowledge. Despite these circumstantial bumps, hunters and Scribes can be of great use to each other.

Mediums: Where does one go when they need to research who a malicious ghost was when they were alive? Scribes have some of the most accurate records of supernaturally inclined ne’er-do-wellers and that can often help mediums figure out how to best some of the toughest specters. However, some mediums may feel that the Scribes’ efforts to understand the nature of ghosts are misplaced at best.

Fae: Among the most insular species, fae don’t take kindly to anyone prying into their secrets and communities, especially humans. They feel this secrecy is necessary to protect themselves, and knowledge escaping from them is only a threat. Fae dislike Scribes for the attempts at collecting this information, and some may even be moved enough to act against them. On the other hand, some fae may have fun providing inaccurate information. As such, the material the Scribes have on fae is sparse and laced with things that might be completely fabricated.

#lore #the scribes #town lore

[kvnis]

imagine . . . meeting online bsf scara . ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

⤷ fem!reader. nsfw utc. ﾉ overstim. praise. creampie.

﹒online bsf scara ౨ৎ . . . who doesn’t know that you caught feelings for him over the internet.

﹒online bsf scara ౨ৎ . . . who reluctantly, and with shaky hands, texts you one morning ;; ‘ want 2 meet up ? ’

﹒online bsf scara ౨ৎ . . . who drives over 4 hours ,, all just to see you <3

﹒online bsf scara ౨ৎ . . . who has his hood up in the freezing cold rain, waiting for you to open the door, shifting from foot to foot ‘cause he’s so anxious !

﹒online bsf scara ౨ৎ . . . who’s gaze softens after seeing your figure at the door—you looked even prettier in person.

“scara!” you spoke with a joyful expression, immediately flinging your arms around him and pulling him in your warm, comforting embrace. “come in, you’ll catch a cold otherwise.” and he prays you don’t see the burning blush on his cheeks.

﹒online bsf scara ౨ৎ . . . who’s awkward for the first hour in ,, before boldly asking to stay the night. ( you agree ! )

﹒online bsf scara ౨ৎ . . . who’s constantly stealing glances at your lips ,, not failing to notice your creeping blush as he grows closer in proximity.

your cheeks were glowing a bright pink, which was hard to miss, even if you tried to hide it. you clear your throat, saying something to scaramouche which only gets drowned out in the pool of awe in his brain. it’s now or never, he tells himself.

﹒online bsf scara ౨ৎ . . . who goes on his instinct, clashing his lips with yours, seeking the taste of you he’s been wanting for so long.

﹒online bsf scara ౨ৎ . . . who’s lips are soft as they mould with yours, perfectly slotting his tongue in between your lips, as if you both were made to be with each other.

the way he cupped your jaw and angled it so he could kiss you was perfect. warmth bloomed in your chest as he pulled away for air, observing your stunned state for a quick moment before immediately pulling you back in. you sent him reeling, enchanting him and hypnotising him to go back in for more. your taste, your scent, you’ve got him wrapped around your finger already and you don’t even realise it yet.

﹒online bsf scara ౨ৎ . . . who’s hand slyly creeps up the hem of your shirt to grasp your waist, pulling you flush to him with no room for escape.

﹒online bsf scara ౨ৎ . . . who doesn’t waste any time in pinning you to the bed ,, his needy hands beginning to tug your clothes off.

“i’ve wanted you for so… so long,” he whispered against your lips, a hushed confession only meant for your ears to hear. his hands go down to your thighs, kneading them as if you were malleable putty in his hands. his breath fans upon your lips, heated pants against your spit-glossed lips. “let me have you, please.”

﹒online bsf scara ౨ৎ . . . who whispers sweet nothings into your ears as he slowly slides his leaking cock into your cunt.

﹒online bsf scara ౨ৎ . . . who’s so pent up from your teasing glances, he blatantly refuses to stop after you orgasm.

“nuh-uh… that’s too bad. you should’ve thought about that before you gave me those bedroom eyes,” he spoke in a condescending tone, your velvety walls only tightening around him from it. “oh? you liked that, hm?”

﹒online bsf scara ౨ৎ . . . who peppers comforting kisses up the side of your neck and trails them to your lips after hearing your overstimulated moans and whines.

﹒online bsf scara ౨ৎ . . . who whimpers into your sloppy kiss about how much he’s needed you and craved you over the time you’ve been friends.

﹒online bsf scara ౨ৎ . . . who praises you and touches you as if you were the most fragile china vase in the world, his caresses proving to stir the warmth in you.

“so pretty,” he murmurs against your lips as you came around him, your slick oozing around his cock and creating a creamy ring at the base. “fuck, f-fuck… so good, all for me, mhm?”

﹒online bsf scara ౨ৎ . . . who after spilling inside of you, cleans you up and runs you a bath, confessing his feelings as you two bathe in the warm water.

his hands brush through your soapy hair, massaging your scalp satisfyingly. “i love you.” he blurted out without thinking, his eyes widening once you turn around and look him dead in the eye. his heart drops, but hearing you reciprocate his affection makes his mouth tug up into a grin. until, he grips your head and turns it forward harshly, telling you to shut up so he can finish washing your hair with a smile.

﹒online bsf scara ౨ৎ . . . who’s just so happy you’re finally his, and his alone. <33

©2024 kvnis do not copy, plagiarise, translate or repost any of my works.

#— ꒰ ๑ ꒱ scribed-kvnis . ྀིྀི #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche genshin smut #scaramouche fanfiction #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader smut #scaramouche genshin impact #scaramouche genshin impact smut #scaramouche genshin #scara #scara x reader #scara smut #scara x reader smut #scaramouche fanfic #genshin scara #scara genshin smut #the balladeer #the balladeer smut #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x reader smut #genshin impact x reader smut #genshin impact smut #genshin fanfic #genshin smut #genshin headcanons #scaramouche headcanons #scaramouche fluff

[local-queer-classicist]

I have acquired several dusty tomes (books) from the ancient archives (college library) with which to perform evils (research paper writing).

#special thanks to the scribe (fellow student at the front desk) for helping me uncover my tomes. u a real one #local queer classicist posts #classics stuff #university stuff #university #classical studies #library #tagamemnon

[carpe-aurore]

POV Raven is trying to rizz up some local so she can get free birdseed

#cosplay #oc cosplay #ocs #Raven the scribe

[scribefindegil]

Papercraft Tome for day 2 of GirlWeek!!

#mp100 girlweek #mp100 #kurata tome #scribe art #marbled papers are Great for making planets. #i should do more spacescapes. collage a filk cover. #tragic that the camera doesn't pick up all the sparkles tho #she is so shiny irl

[mirangel]

HII RANN ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE I REQUESTED SOMETHING SOOO LIKE CAN YOU DO ALHAITHAM X HYBRID READER X KAVEH AND LIKE THE READERS IN HEAT LOLOLOL

(I suffer from an unclean mind 😂😂)

monthly heat !

cw: gn!reader, hybrid!reader, heat, slightly omegaverse-y, polyam, kavetham here and there, praise, overstim, degradation, double pounding, dumbification

written by a minor, dni if uncomfortable

you can’t help but drown yourself in the overwhelming feeling of your heat. you practically raided your two roommates’ closets in order to prepare for this after all, but nothing could come close to the two men’s presence themselves. you could hardly breathe, grinding yourself in your beloved architect’s silk pillow, while you bury your face into your scribe’s clothing, begging to no one in particular for them to come home quicker, for them to come home and satisfy your needs. luckily for you however, they came home earlier than they both expected, and they were greeted to a beautiful sight of you humping kaveh’s pillow, while drowning your entire senses in alhaitham’s clothes.

“my… how naughty of you, to be playing with yourself while we’re away.” alhaitham sneers, pinning himself above your needy body while kaveh moves his body next to yours, rubbing the small of your back with his slender hand, using the other hand to rest his head on his fist, a gentle smile on his face. “alhaitham dear, this poor thing’s in heat! we should take care of them, it’s our duty as their mate after all!” the blond chirps, giving a small peck on the other’s cheek before unzipping his pants, with the other following suit shortly.

kaveh is a much kinder man, who treats you like glass as he presses kisses on your body as he mumbles sweet praises into your ear. he tells you how much you fit him perfectly when he slots himself inside of you, how beautiful you look underneath him, moaning when he takes you entirely, encouraging your moans that slip out of your mouth, coaxing you to go further, “tell me what you need, dear bunny.” he coos, caressing your cheek with his hand as he thrusts himself deeper into you.

alhaitham is much rougher, who treats you like the animal you are when he brings you to your peak over and over, he’ll bring you the satisfaction you deserve, despite what his other partner says, he’ll treat you as rough as you want him to go. “my, you little slut, if i had known you’d want this sooner i could’ve fucked you as hard as you want.” he grins, prodding a sensitive spot inside you that makes your legs curl around his waist.

the two of them together are like two devils in disguise, they find ways to satisfy you in unison without even giving each other more than a single glance and a nod, their two cocks pounding your hole with delicacy and toughness in one mixed setting, their ragged breaths in your ear as they mumble and moan about how you good you feel. you can hardly think, but that’s okay, you’re content being like this. your heat may be temporary, but their love for you is eternal.

ok!! i had this marinating in my inbox for a while and unfortunately for me! i am drunk off my shit writing this so this may be poorly written i am so sorry haha

#⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ starry scribe ✧ #⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ moonlight mirage ✧ #⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ fading fantasy ✧ #alhaitham x reader #al haitam x reader #alhaitham smut #kaveh x you #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #al haitham x fem reader #al haitham x reader #al haitham x y/n #al haitham x you #genshin impact x female reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #kaveh x y/n #kaveh x reader #kaveh x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #alhaitham x male reader #alhaitham x female reader #alhaitham x gender neutral reader #al haitham x male reader #kaveh x male reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x male reader

[flowers-of-io]

Destiny + text posts part 19/?

#destiny + text posts #shitposting tag #eris morning #petra venj #nightmares #eater of hope #eater of what’s left #xivu arath #kridis #vexed #vault of glass #vogposting #taniks has no legs #rhulk #destiny 2 #gensym scribe

[peony-plum]

Hello little guy 👋

#morrowind #nerevarine oc #I refuse to kill these cuties #nerevarine #elder scrolls #elder scrolls fanart #tes #my art #drawing #dunmer #scribes #morrowind fanart #digital arwork #digital fanart #fanart #morrowind art #dunmer oc #oc drawing #elf oc #rainyday #oc elder scrolls

[killer-outlet]

Leshy got there fursona wrong

#justifys everything tbh #not sorry for like exclusively drawing p03 as a stoat btw #the other scribes are getting hit with the furry beam next #inscryption #P03 #stoat #leshy

[literary-illuminati]

Wildly amusing to me that we apparently literally know the name of the guy who invented imperialism.

Feel like we should hate him more. Use his name for demons and monsters in fantasy novels. Have a holiday about how shitty he was. That kinda thing. Just on general principle, you know?

#weavers scribes and kings #amanda podany #pg #history

[brayneworms]

send up my heart to you.

kinktober day four: overstimulation

word count. 3.2k

content. MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI, overstimulation, porn with feelings, crying, kissing, gender-neutral reader, reader bottoms, no real power dynamics, implied virgin!xiao, references to xiao's past abuse, subspace, aftercare, mild dumbification, sub-top!xiao, blink and you miss it implications of masochism, this got emotional lol.

kinktober mlist | regular mlist

♪ my love mine all mine - mitski

Xiao doesn't know he can get addicted to love.

How could he? It's not like you realise you're craving something when you don't have it. So the first time it's entirely by accident. It takes a lot for him to get like this, to get vulnerable enough. So much of your human lifespan that he feels indescribably guilty, actually, that you've wasted so many years on worrying at the stone wall of vulnerabilities he'd erected so many years ago.

But, diligently—and so humanly—you had.

And there is still so much of him that screams that he doesn't deserve it. That first time, he won't ever forget—bristling with karmic debt, feeling it ooze out of him like a shameful shadow. It rolled down his back in drops of sweat and beaded in his eyes like tears. With every wet, strangled gasp that left his throat it released into the air like a noxious gas, and he waited, body tensed like a loaded weapon, waited for it to kill you.

And it didn't. And it doesn't.

It feels impossible. Nothing should feel this good. It's slow and hard, in the way that it's deliberate. That's the thing that makes Xiao want to cry. You're deliberately touching him. On purpose, you love him.

Your hands are deliberate; there is no chance you'll forget it's his skin you're touching as you knead it between your fingers like fresh bread, fitting your fingers between his ribs, rubbing slow circles over his thighs, tracing the scars that welt up under the flesh. Your fingers paint fire over his body, and disrobing feels like simultaneously the most natural thing in the world, and also something that makes Xiao want to run and hide.

His own skin seems to scream at him. But you must only hear birds.

Soft kisses, dotted down his sternum as your hands skim over the scarred plane of his torso, thumbs circling. Can you feel the way his stomach tenses under the flex of your digits, the way his breath hitches? His ribs creak and expand with each shallow breath. It's dangerous, and he thinks—perhaps he could grow addicted to this.

How awful. To be addicted to something that will be gone in the blink of an eye.

The touches and the kisses, the little whispers are good, but being inside you is something almost indescribable. It's a slow, conscious effort, something almost akin to a play like in the theatre that Zhongli and Hu Tao frequent on their rare days off. There are roles and lines and actions to be memorised, and he does, opening you up—spit, fingers, the help of some slippery oil in a glass vial you produced from your pocket. This, too, is deliberate—the whole time is Xiao knowing what he's opening you up for, and being struck dumb all over again before he's even—

even—

"Are you ready?" you murmur, and Xiao's mouth works soundlessly for a moment because how could he be ready for something like this? He doesn't even know what it's going to feel like. How can he be ready for that?

But what he is ready to do is trust you. With his life, with everything. In so many ways, he's already given you everything. So he nods, trembly and short.

"Can I hear a yes?" Your hands stroke up and down his thighs, the sensitive skin on the inside, and Xiao huffs out a strangled breath.

"Yes," he grits out, teeth mashing together. If it's going to be anyone, it's going to be you. And you smile at him, all lips and no teeth, eyes crinkling in bows and Xiao swallows past the unidentifiable lump in his throat.

(It is only unidentifiable because he is a coward. He knows, deep down, exactly what it is).

You take him in your hand; he's already painfully hard, had been, really, since you started kissing. It's mortifying, this show of desire, but he's helpless before it as you move your hand slowly up and down. You position him between your legs, and he feels the soft, the hot and wet, spit and oil and something else, and it hits him—

He slides in. Xiao sees your thighs shake with the effort, his hands slipping under clumsily to grab at them to help; it feels like all his own strength as been sapped, and as soon as your body swallows the tip of his cock all he can do is slump back against the sweat-damp mattress, mouth open in a silent gasp before it releases in a high, broken whimper like shattered glass.

Arduously, you take him all. By the time you're practically sitting on him he's already an utter mess, squirming and hot under you, his hands scrabbling frantically for purchase on your thighs. His nails leave little railroads behind on your skin.

"Oh," he moans, head tipped back. "Oh—gods—"

"Xiao..." Your fingers trace over his; he can feel your own shaking. "You feel so good."

He blinks his eyes open, shocked to find them already blurry. "I—I do?" he rasps, pathetically, hating himself for it, but your radiant smile makes him ascend.

"Feel like I was made for you," you mumble, and Xiao's heart cracks because how can you, your mortal form, how can you be made for him—toxic and rotten and old, so old that he will outlive you by thousands of years? But then you smile weakly, and you say, "or maybe you were made for me," and that feels a lot more palatable. Xiao can believe quite readily that he was put on this earth for no other reason than to please you.

He rocks his hips up weakly, chasing more of that squeezing wet heat, that almost suffocating tightness, and your body jolts and groans. "S-sorry," he wheezes, but his body can't stop, he can't stop, every cell is on fire and you feel so so so good—

He comes far, far too quickly; it's basically over before it's even started, as he thrusts up into you with a shattered gasp. For a moment his head goes wonderfully, blissfully blank, and it feels like the first time in forever he's stopped thinking long enough to relax. He slumps against the mattress, breathing fast, and peers up at you with wide, apprehensive eyes.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice strangled, weak, pathetic. Self-loathing rises up in a vice, twists up his insides. What a useless tool he proclaims to be. His fingers drop limply from your legs and twist up the bedsheets, avoiding your eye, despising himself. "I can keep going."

Your expression pinches—for the first time, Xiao realises with disconcertion. There had been no trace of disappointment when he'd failed to perform, only now that he offers himself up as a sacrificial lamb for your pleasure. The casual concern makes his head rush.

"It's okay," you say soothingly. "It's a lot. I mean—" You glance down for half a second, but Xiao catches it, follows your gaze. Release drips down from where he's still buried inside you, running languidly down the backs of your thighs. Xiao's face burns, but he's caught between mortification and sudden interest.

A piece of him is inside you. It makes his whole body shiver with satisfaction, like an itch that's finally been scratched. He feels the limp instrument between his legs swell, and it's with more conviction that he says this time, "I can keep going. Please—please allow me..."

Shivering, he reaches a hand up, smooths it up your stomach. Your skin is so smooth and hot, so untouched by the ugliness of war. He wonders how you can stand to look at him, but you can, you do, and he swallows hard as he sits up and presses a stinging kiss to the swell of flesh on the left of your chest. This close he feels your breath hitch.

"If—if you're sure." Your voice has become quiet, shaky. Unsure, for the first time.

"I am." He is so fucking sure—every part of him, apparently, because the heat between his legs is starting to get painful again. "C-can... could I...?"

In answer, you roll your hips against his, testing, slow. He feels like dick twitch inside you, and it shocks him like lightning. It's an odd sensation—a pleasurable burning, feeling momentarily so good that it hurts. Is this normal? He shudders, eyes struggling to focus; every small jolt of him inside you sends shivering bolts of lightning through his body, ones that have him whimpering and gasping much more than before.

It's slightly painful—and it's ridiculous, because Xiao has made friends with agony, had lived through so much of it that he'd come out the other side and regarded it almost as an old friend. But it's a different sort of pain than torture, than brutality, than mindless violence for the sake of it. This is a discomfort he would happily self-inflict.

"Xiao?" you ask, breathlessly. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes," he answers mindlessly, then rushes to correct himself. "Th-that is—it doesn't..." He gathers a sharp breath. "I do not... dislike it."

"Are you sure?"

In answer, he gathers his strength and flips the two of you over. You make a grunt of surprise as your back flops against the mattress, and it takes an awkward few moments of fumbling and sliding sweaty limbs to align yourselves correctly again. Xiao kneels between your legs, keeping himself lifted with his arms on either side of your head. Framing you, like you're a painting. You might as well be.

You stare up at him owlishly.

"I'm sure," he says, then fixes you with an attempt at a flat look. It would probably be more effective if he wasn't blushing madly. "I'm not made of glass, you know. It's far more likely that I'll hurt you rather than the other way around."

"You won't hurt me," you say with so much certainty that it throws him for a loop. Xiao swallows, eyes softening as he gazes down at you. You slip your hand between the both of you and wrap your fingers gently around his cock, and Xiao buries his head in the crook of your neck with a muffled moan. The sound that slips out of him is almost pained, wispy and high as you carefully manoeuvre him back to the heat between your legs.

Sliding back into you is what he imagines heaven must feel like, in the event a wretched creature like him could ever get there. And it burns, every clench and ridge catching on his cock as he pushes back in with a breathless noise, every cell in his body fizzing with life and fire.

"Hah—" The noise slips out like a punch. "Oh, oh..."

"Please." You lift your hips encouragingly, pressing the two of you flush together. "Please move."

The first few thrusts are awkward, but after he manages to pick out a steady sort of rhythm it's so easy to fall back into it. Xiao stares down at you, gobsmacked; is this what you saw, sitting on his waist, looking down? Your head tips back against the sheets, fingers clenching the bedsheets, your lips parted in a helpless little moan. He feels dazed, heavy-limbed: how did you not fall immediately and irrevocably in love?

Oh, he thinks distractedly. Maybe you—

You're getting closer, this time—he's not entirely sure how he can tell, but he just can. Your breathing picks up, gets higher and wispier until you're practically wheezing, and your arm flies up to dig your nails into the foam of hair at his nape, pinpricks of pain to match the sensitivity burning between his legs. Every push in and out of you makes his whole body shudder, makes small, pathetic sounds drift out of him almost absently. It's almost scary, how separated from his own body he feels.

It's something he can only compare to committing absolute violence. Leaving yourself behind like this, to do what must be done.

He has just enough wherewithal to bend his neck, mouthing at your chest, the soft skin under his lips feeling like a miracle, an offence to everything he knows. Your answering groan sends heat rushing between his legs. You're making—he it's because of him, and he's—he's making you feel—

His second orgasm doesn't so much as creep up on him as it does slam through him with barely a seconds' warning. Xiao practically chokes on his, his hips stuttering against yours as his cock twitches inside you, again, and it's so much, too much, that his whole body lights on fire with the oversensitivity. Tears swarm his eyes as he clenches them shut, pressing hard against your collarbone before he slumps, practically boneless.

He can feel you breathing beneath him. Certainly you didn't finish, if the way you're swallowing and breathing hard is any indication. Shame fills him all over again, as soon as the feverish heat retreats. He lifts his head groggily and looks up at you, dread pooling in his stomach—but again, there is no disdain in your expression. Your eyes are wide, mouth parted, but when he locks eyes with you all you do is smile weakly and shrug, a gesture that even Xiao understands to mean it's okay.

Still. It isn't. Not to him.

Through the foggy haze that has settled over his brain, he manages to dredge up two words. Hoarsely, whispered into your skin: "One more."

"W-what?" There's barely time for the shock to slip off your face before Xiao pushes himself up on trembling arms. "Xiao, you—oh!"

The noise you make when he presses his hips flush against you is almost enough to have his cock swelling with interest again. "Wait," you whine, even as your hips arch into him. "Xiao, it's too—you m-must be—"

"I can take it," he grits out, unsure if it's true but beyond willing to find out. He blinks down at you with wet eyes, mouth agape, not thinking to close it, not thinking about whether he looks ridiculous, wanton, or any thousand other things. Only thinking that he wants you, and wants you to feel good. "Please..."

The feeling that rips through him when he rolls his hips against yours almost makes him shriek. It's so much, and a loud buzzing fills his ears as his jaw locks. It needles at him, his skin screaming as he grinds against you, barely thrusting really, just trying to ease himself back into the feeling again. Your expression pinches.

Pleasure pricks through the pain. Xiao groans, effectively brainless, and only one thought drives him forward. He wants to make you come. He wants to see you finish, feel it around him, so he moves his hips again, again, relentlessly, through the overstimulation, through the waves of pleasure that roll over him helplessly. Tears swell up against and spill, and every time he rocks into you he makes a sound like he's been shot through; whimpery and high, wet and pathetic.

A film slides over Xiao's brain. All he can hear is your moans, fast and urgent, and all he can feel is you practically pulsing around him. Nothing should feel this much, he thinks senselessly, and it's only when you put a hand on his face desperately that he realises he's saying all of this aloud, mindless babbling under his breath, a constant stream of consciousness like he'd lost the ability to shut his mouth.

Maybe he has, he thinks distantly, and is that such a bad thing? How can it be a bad thing to be mindless in front of you, to only think about this, it's so good, it hurts but it's so good, he loves it, he loves you—

Still speaking aloud; he can tell by the way your expression slackens, your lip trembles, and you shakily cup his face to bring his lips to yours. He's barely conscious enough to reciprocate, his whole body shuddering with every thrust, and he can feel the quivering vibrations of the both of you moaning into each other's mouths, feel the wetness of saliva and tears, his tears, when was the last time he cried? He'd cry for you, he thinks senselessly. You're worth crying for.

"Please," he begs, not necessarily knowing what he's pleading for anymore. "Please, please, please—"

You tighten around him, and it makes his voice cut out with the noise it makes, and even as he watches through the blurry wet haze of his tears he feels and sees you come undone beneath him, your back arching up to meet him as though you two could possibly get any closer. Your broken-off moans and breathy gasps send Xiao over the edge again with a dry, broken sob.

He's so, so sensitive that even pulling out of you makes him wince and shudder all over again. He watches, dazed, as his own release drips out of you, thankful absently that you thought to put towels down before—before.

You're gasping, hands on his face, a frantic look on your face. "Xiao? Hey. You okay?"

I'm fine, Xiao tries to say, but all that comes out is a breathy whimper. He's still sort of crying, he realises, bringing up a trembling back to touch his wet cheeks. You thumb at his face, the touch almost too much—he wants to curl into his clothes, but of course he has no clothes because he's naked, both of you are—

His face burns with sudden shame. He came three times.

"Did I make you feel good?" he whispers, softly, wide-eyed. Your expression trembles, melts into a soft smile that feels like the closest thing to sedation Xiao can handle.

"So, so good," you assure him, and Xiao melts into your arms with a deep sigh. He's still shaking like a baby bird, but you hold him in your warm arms, as his tears turn to sniffles and then wet, quivering breaths. "You pushed yourself too far, though," you tell him, and Xiao curls up, blanching at any semblance of rejection. "I'm not mad," you hasten to assure him. "Far, far from it. Just... go easier on yourself, next time, please. I care about you. I don't want you to hurt yourself for my sake."

Reality returns in doses. Some semblance of awareness trickles back to Xiao the longer you talk. "I understand," he whispers. "I liked it. It was—perhaps more i-intense than I anticipated, but I liked it. I liked... doing it for you." He blushes.

You press a soft kiss to his forehead. "You're so sweet, Xiao. We'll talk about it more tomorrow, okay?"

He nods tiredly. That sounds agreeable. Tomorrow exists in some far-off dreamland. For now, he can curl up to your side as you carefully manoeuvre the towels off the bed so you can sleep on clean, dry sheets. Xiao clings to you, snuffling into your side like you'll disappear if he lets you go, and you card your fingers through his sweat-damp hair.

It should be horribly embarrassing. But it isn't. It just isn't. Nothing is the way it should be, when it comes to you. Not pain, or pleasure, or any of the things he usually feels. He supposes it's a byproduct of never being loved.

But he loves you. And—

"I love you, Xiao," you murmur against his hair, and if he had any tears left he's sure they'd be welling up in his eyes. As it is, his fingers merely tighten their hold on your waist. "You said it earlier—I don't know if—well. I just wanted to say it. I love you, and you did so, so well for me. Now go to sleep."

Xiao thinks he'd die if you asked him to.

But you don't. You just ask him to sleep.

So he does.

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