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#this poor child can’t catch a break
mommy-medusa · 1 year
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Athena’s Wings
So, in Medusa’s Child, Athena has wings now! And I think they’re neat, so I’m gonna talk about them!
Athena was born with a pair of sterling owl wings, and throughout her life, she gains more through accomplishments she achieves as a goddess. Before the book starts, she has twenty pairs, each representing something she did (aside from the first ones). She gets a few more throughout the story for various things, but she has twenty at the start. The way she got them are as followed:
Being born
Killing Pallas (this is damaging to her psyche as much as you think it is)
Becoming the patron of Athens
Making the first olive tree
Domesticating horses
Inventing the plow
Inventing the rake
Inventing the bridle
Inventing the yoke
Inventing the chariot
Designing the first ship
Beating Arachne in the weaving contest
Turning Arachne into a spider
Blinding Tiresias
And then 15-20 are just for various goddess shenanigans like fighting in wars and aiding some mortals.
Unfortunately, Athena loathes her wings.
For one, she sees them as a sign of hubris. That she’s flaunting her victories. And that doesn’t really sit right with her, as she feels no need to show off.
For two, they are a teensy tiny itty bitty bit excruciatingly painful.
Her wings are meant to be out and free, but instead, she keeps them hidden inside her back. This causes an extreme strain on her entire body, and she says that she can constantly feel them “writhing” beneath her skin, “yearning for an escape.”
And even when she does have them out, she still isn’t free from discomfort. Due to the amount of wings she has (remember, there’s forty of them), there isn’t much space available for all of them to be out at once. She isn’t a very big goddess, after all, and even if she was, the back only has so much skin. As a result, the wings grow over each other, fighting for room, and her flesh gets ripped to shreds. It’s a pretty (read as: extremely) bloody sight.
Her wings are also embedded with several grey eyeballs (think of biblically accurate angels). In my book, this is we’re she gets the epithet Grey-Eyed Athena (because she herself has grey-blue eyes). She CAN see out of all of these eyes, but she chooses not to, as it gives her a headache.
Her primary wings are thirty feet long, and all the rest span from fifteen to twenty-five feet. They all get smaller when they’re folded on her back and only grow to their full size when extended. This keeps her from falling over backward from the weight of them.
The only wings she doesn’t hate are the little wings she has on her head, which aren’t painful or straining or annoying.
And now, beneath the cut, for your viewing pleasure, the actual scene where her wings first appear! Enjoy!
“I didn’t know you had wings.”
The topic was meant to distract Athena from her distress, but it seemed to do the exact opposite, as Athena visibly grimaced at Medusa’s words. Her wings, sprawled limp at her sides, flinched and drew in closer to her back, as though ashamed of themselves.
“Yes,” Athena said softly. “These are my original pair. The ones I had when I was born.”
“Oh? You have more than one?”
“I have many.”
She sounded so tired when she said that. So spiteful toward her own form.
Medusa dipped the moss into the salt water, then gently dabbed at the burn on the left one. Athena jerked away, a ripple of pain causing the entire wing to shudder. When it did, Medusa swore she caught a glimpse of some strange movement from beneath the plumage.
With curious claws, Medusa began pushing back some of the silver feathers. At this, Athena let out a hissing breath and said, “I would not do that if I were you…”
She made no effort to stop Medusa, however, and, too driven by her intrigue, Medusa continued, brushing through feathers until she saw it.
An eye.
A grey eye.
The eyeball revolved around to stare directly at her, and Medusa found herself pulling away instinctively with a small gasp of fright.
Athena sighed heavily. “My apologies.”
“You have…an eye in your wing,” Medusa said as if Athena didn’t already know this.
“Indeed.” Athena raised both wings, and all her feathers stood on end, revealing the array of bright grey eyes underneath. Medusa’s own wings suddenly felt very itchy.
Athena lowered her wings, and her plumage smoothed out. She looked bitter. “Not very inviting, hm?”
“Can you see out of them?” Medusa asked. “The eyes?”
“Technically, yes,” Athena answered. “But I try not to. It is headache-inducing, seeing so many things at once.” Then, sourly, she added, “I don’t like having them out. They’re nuisances. I would cut them off if they didn’t grow back like the heads of a Hydra.”
“You say that like you know that will happen.”
Athena gave her a look.
“Oh.”
There was a small snort from Athena.
Medusa extended a hand and gently stroked one of the wings. It fluttered under her claws.
“Well, I think they’re beautiful,” she said. And then, before Athena could counter her with some self-loathing comment, she went on, “You said you have more?”
“Many more,” Athena nodded. “I am ‘awarded’ with new wings with every accomplishment I achieve as a goddess. They’re a sort of prize, if you will. But if you ask me, they’re just feathery forms of hubris. I have no reason to flaunt my deeds. And yet, the universe seems to want me to.”
“So that is why they call you Grey-Eyed Athena,” Medusa hummed.
That actually got a laugh out of Athena. “Indeed,” she said. “I used to—” Another light laugh. A finger scratched at one of her head-wings sheepishly. “I used to appear before mortals, when they would summon me, with my wings spread out, many eyes aglow and wide open. All mystical and majestic. It got a real kick out of worshippers.”
“Why’d you stop?”
“It lost its appeal after a while. It stopped making me happy, I suppose. It was all just an act. The strain certainly didn’t help, either.”
“Strain?”
Athena heaved a great sigh, and one of her wings twitched. “Having my wings out at all is a constant struggle. These,” she gestured vaguely, “are alright, as they are my original pair, but the others… They’re painful. Terribly so. The more I have out at once, the more friction they create on my body, and it feels as though my skin is being scraped off, piece by piece. My back is usually torn apart by the time only five pairs have emerged.”
Wincing lightly, Medusa couldn’t help but ask, “How many do you have?”
Athena blinked, slightly dazed, then looked up at the dark sky as though she were trying to remember. After a moment, she answered, “Twenty pairs, I believe.”
Now Medusa grimaced fully. Forty wings. Her own two wings were annoying enough at times, but forty? A sympathetic twinge of pain went through her back.
“Wow,” Medusa breathed out.
Athena gave a humorless, bitter laugh. “Indeed.”
“And you said they hurt you?” Medusa pressed.
Athena’s lips pressed into a tight line. “Yes,” she said. “They do. They are not meant to be concealed in a prison of flesh. They are meant to be out and free. But I don’t care. I loathe these mutations. And so, they wrath against me. Even as we speak now, I can feel them writhing beneath my skin, yearning for an escape. The feathers itch so vehemently against my muscles, pressing mercilessly on my bones. It’s a pain.” She lifted her head to Medusa, and her eyes looked so exhausted. “For me, it’s always like this.”
Medusa frowned. “It must get tiring, all that—”
“It does. It does get tiring,” Athena whispered. “But I don’t have any choice. I never did, and I never will.”
Medusa reached down to squeeze one of Athena’s hands tightly. “I’m so sorry, Athena.”
“Don’t be,” Athena said. “You have nothing to apologize for, trust me on that.”
For some time, the two of them sat in silence, Athena staring at the ground with a hollow expression and Medusa tending to her burn.
And then, “Sometimes I get some bad cramps in my wings.”
Athena laughed. One of her head-wings swept around her face to muffle the sound, but Medusa heard it clearly. It was like a chiming bell in a great, black void.
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perlelune · 1 month
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Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | i.
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Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.
Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt
This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.
𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
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Your hands quake around the bucket of mice as you stand above the terrarium. The bright-skinned creatures inside writhe around, in anticipation of their next meal. You peer inside the metal bucket at the little mice with their cute whiskers and beady eyes. Your heart twinges. They will soon meet their end, courtesy of you. But what else can be done? The snakes need to eat. Because if they were not fed, the colorful reptiles would break through the glass in search of the food they were denied. You used to have nightmares of it as a child. The lab crawling with snakes, their neon scales filling every corner.
Natural order restored as every warm-blooded creature in their vicinity turns into prey. 
You suppress a shudder. While that never happened, you can’t erase the slight chill dancing through your bones whenever you approach the terrarium. 
Other lab assistants have offered to take on the task, noting your discomfort. You’ve turned each of them down. Mother has given you this job ten years ago. A gift, she called it. More of a challenge quite frankly. A way to test your nerves, that she always deemed too delicate. She never expected you to go through with it. “Hippity, hoppity, little one,” she mockingly sang that day as you fidgeted before the ceiling-high glass case filled with snakes to the brim. Their scales were a deep green back then. Nothing like the pink, yellow and blue shades they don today. A plethora of mutations throughout the years has made them what they are now.
You tip the bucket against the edge of the glass case, abandoning the poor rodents to their fates. The reptiles are quick to dive upon them in a heap. The mice’s helpless squeaks reach a peak, piercing your ears until they’re silenced quickly. You watch, stomach tight while the snakes open their maws and swallow the furred animals whole. The spectacle will never sit well with you.
Still, you school your features and steady your heart. Mother’s voice echoes through your head.
Emotions are a weakness. They must be harnessed, contained.
Harnessing your emotions. A feat you could never achieve. One that makes you a failed experiment in Mother’s eyes. A waste of space. A disappointment.
You start climbing down the ladder to gather more mice from their cages. Your insides clutch at the prospect of gently picking them up only to escort them to a sorrowful fate.
The train of your thoughts is interrupted when voices erupt from the other end of the long hall. 
Recognizing them, you freeze. Panic floods your veins. You haste down the ladder, the bucket clattering as you discard it on the floor. 
You scurry inside the nearest office and duck beneath a table.
The voices grow in the lab. You eavesdrop, allowing you to catch snippets of the conversation. They’re discussing Mother’s latest experiments with the Avox subjects. One succumbed to a chromosome translocation with a wolf mutt. The finer details of replacing the subject and what can be learned from the results are discussed in cold, clinical fashion. No regard for what was a human life, now lost, is granted. The Avox was nothing more than a slab of meat meant for slaughter. The slow, barbaric kind.
Ice seeps through your veins. You loathe visiting that room, the one displaying Mother’s human experiments on unfortunate Avoxes. Their beseeching gazes. Their warped pleas parroted by the jabberjays above them. You almost passed out every time you were tasked with monitoring their electrolyte status or switching their intravenous tubes.
Head rising from under the desk, you allow yourself a peek. 
Mother’s here, of course. You recognized her voice right away. Then, there’s…him.
You let your gaze rest on him, never having the chance to observe him like that. Steal a glance from the back of the lecture hall. Get a glimpse of him amidst his crowd of friends, always in his element of course, owning every room he’s in.
Never before did you get to just look at him.
The first thing that strikes you is how beautiful he is. Handsome in that dazzling way the pretty boys in the sappy books smuggled from the Districts your mother berates you for reading are.
She calls them stupid. For you however, they are your only escape from the dismal humdrum of the Capitol. Fictional worlds that shield you from the harshness of reality. Your saving grace.
Platinum locks combed back from his face. Eyes as blue as the sky. Sharp, angular features.
Coriolanus Snow.
Behind the safety of the glass panel, openly admiring him is easier. In fact, you find it almost hard to peel your eyes away.
No wonder half the girls in your cohort can’t stop gushing about him, how there’s an irresistible, slight air of danger hovering around him since his brief time as a peacekeeper. Even Io Jasper noticed it. And Io never notices anything that she can’t wedge between two glass slides and examine under a microscope.
Awe mingles with envy in your chest. This is who your mother chose as her unofficial successor. The worthy, cool-headed apprentice she has yearned for years. She’s been through so many people, each more eager to please and impress than the last. None ever fit. Not even you. Especially not you. Nobody except for him.
No one had ever passed your mother’s crooked tests before Coriolanus Snow came along.
Blue eyes travel upward, the Snow heir seeming to sense the scrutiny upon him.
“Is someone here?” he says, pushing forward.
Your pulse quickens at the sound of Coriolanus Snow’s deep voice, disturbingly close. You crouch to hide from view.
Mother’s exasperated breath reaches you from behind the glass panel.
“Don’t worry. It’s probably my daughter. I’m afraid she’s quite useless,” she says matter-of-factly.
Your heart sinks. Face warm with embarrassment, you shrink beneath the desk. You bring your knees to your chest. Hearing such words shouldn’t affect you. Not after all these years. Yet it does. A pointed reminder that you can never measure up. That you’re a glaring mistake, lucky to even be allowed to wander the halls of the Citadel and be given a semblance of responsibility, however small.
That you’re not enough, will never be enough.
That you should never have been brought into the world.
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After getting caught, you file away your embarrassment and make yourself small. Even smaller than usual. It's not too hard. When you aren’t working at the lab, your schedule consists of attending lectures and studying for long hours at the library. It keeps you busy enough to find excuses to skip a few hours at the lab. After all, midterms are only a few weeks away. They require your entire focus. You can’t fail and add more of a shameful stain to Mother’s name.
It’s why you ramped up your studying since the Academy. You were painfully average then, tragically unremarkable, not even ranking high enough to get your own tribute to mentor in the tenth Hunger Games. The shriveling stare she cast upon you the day of the reaping after Dean Highbottom failed to speak your name is burned into your mind forever. That day, you failed Mother again. You swore to yourself to never let it happen again afterwards.
This year, you will study harder, until your eyes fall off if necessary. If you can pass every class with flying colors and perhaps even aim for the valedictorian spot, you can prove Mother that your existence isn’t a complete and utter waste. It might be a lofty goal for you, but you’ve been ranking higher with every test these last few weeks.
For days, your path does not cross Coriolanus Snow’s again. Your peace is maintained. You get to almost forget how piercing his blue eyes were that day, even from behind the glass panel.
Today, you don’t expect things to veer away from your usual routine. You sit in the back of the lecture hall as is your habit. Students pour inside at a sluggish pace while you peruse your notes from the previous class. They barely make sense, even to you. Defense economics has never been your favorite subject, possibly your most hated in fact, and paying attention during Professor Cloudsbane’s class is even more of a challenge. More than once, you dozed off, the complicated concepts struggling to fully sink into your mind.
Keeping up with this class is twice as much work than all the other ones. Even Mother’s bioengineering and military strategy courses do not give you so much grief. Concepts she’s drilled into you since childhood are easier to digest.
Which is why you’re flabbergasted when the results of last week’s test are passed around and you receive yours. In disbelief, you blink at the paper multiple times.
It’s the highest grade you’ve gotten the entire semester. Possibly the highest one in the class. You bask in the private, secret victory. You’re always so behind. You plan on enjoying that tiny moment. You hug the test to your chest, a smile creeping upon your lips.
“So what score did you get?”
Your head whips up, the sudden voice startling you out of your thoughts.
Bright cobalt orbs fill your sight.
You gape in disbelief. Coriolanus Snow.
Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize he and his group of friends have elected to occupy the seats in the row before yours today. You’re stunned. They’re usually sitting somewhere in the middle of the hall, not quite at the front but close enough so that Clemensia can comfortably harass the professor with a ceaseless string of questions as she’s known to do.
“So?” he asks again. His eyes dart down. “Your grade?”
Your throat knots as you gawk at him. When you don’t reply, he huffs out a laugh and swipes the piece of paper from your hand. You’re too flabbergasted by his actions to even react.
Empty hands hanging before you, you watch him purse his lips as he inspects your paper.
“Hm, top grade. Figured.” His eyes twinkle. “Expected from Dr. Gaul’s daughter, I suppose.”
“You almost had it, Coryo. But she beat you,” Clemensia teases, wiggling her eyebrows. Meanwhile, Ivy Briarose, Clemensia’s close friend, giggles at her comment. 
You steal a glance at his test; he’s holding it next to yours. Surprise surges through you. There’s only half a point between your grade and his. Just half a point…but still. Coriolanus always aces Professor Cloudsbane’s tests. Him getting the top grade is often expected. But this time, the Snow heir falls behind…you. 
You can hardly believe it. A sliver of pride flutters through you. The fruits of your labor are beginning to show.
“If you don’t watch out, she’ll steal the top student spot from you,” Livia chimes in. You can tell the blonde is reveling in this, that strange animosity between her and Coriolanus on full display.
Coriolanus’ jaw ticks, his tight-lipped smile unfaltering as he studies you.
“I suppose she could,” he utters softly. Despite his tranquil expression and the smile pulling his lips, a peculiar unease settles in your bones. You shift in your chair, goosebumps blooming across your flesh.
He hands you your test back without a word. You’re relieved when he turns and the class starts. 
Still, even with his back turned, the weight of his sizzling scrutiny doesn’t part from your skin. 
The class proceeds, the words pouring from your professor’s lips a befuddling heap in your ears as usual. You jot everything down, acutely aware you’ll need several hours if not more than that to decipher everything he said. Your mind already throbs at the prospect. 
You sneak a glance at the row in front of you. It’s mostly filled with the top students, most of them mentors that last year at the Academy. Some of them aren’t even taking notes. Only Coriolanus sporadically does. He appears to have no issue keeping up with this class, unlike you who drowned in the first few minutes.
You’re relieved when the lecture reaches its end. Your mind is on the cusp of overflow. You desperately need a break. 
You pick up your things and rush to the exit. In the hallway, some guy bumps into you from behind, sending the books in your arms flying across the floor. He doesn’t say anything to you and you bend to pick up your books. Tears press behind your eyes. This is nothing. It shouldn’t make you blink back tears. It’s not the first time someone’s treated you like you were invisible. 
“Hey, apologize.” 
Your eyes drift skyward. Stumped, you watch Coriolanus grip the boy who bumped into you by his shoulder. 
“What?” the guy replies, confusion scrunching his features. 
“You bumped into her. I said ‘apologize’,” Coriolanus articulates, as if he were addressing a particularly slow child. When the guy tries to leave, rolling his eyes, the blond squeezes him tighter. Tension flickers in the air. They trade looks and doubts creep on the guy’s face, his face blanching. 
He clears his throat and whirls to you.
“Sorry,” he blurts out.
You shake your head. “It’s fine.”
He turns, likely hoping to leave again, but Coriolanus tuts him, pointing at your books, still scattered across the floor.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he says, arching his brow.
The guy unleashes a sigh but hunkers down to collect all of your books. He gives them to you in a neat pile as you stare at the spectacle, mouth agape.
“Thank you,” you mumble.
He nods and saunters off, avoiding Coriolanus’ eyes.
Coriolanus grabs your hand, helping you to your feet. The pads of his fingers are rougher than you expect, calluses pressing against your soft skin. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you rise. 
You’re not sure what to say, your nerves flaring beneath his stare. But you suppose you should thank him. While you struggle standing up for yourself, he just did it for you. So you mumble the words under your breath and begin heading in the opposite direction.
With his long legs, Coriolanus easily keeps up with your hasty strides. Your heart skips a beat as he falls in step with you.
“I feel strange asking this but…” He leans above your shoulder to whisper, “Are you avoiding me?”
“I-I’m not,” you stammer, your pulse racing with the lie.
The blond chuckles.
“You’re walking awfully fast for someone who’s not avoiding me.”
“I’m just running late to my next class.”
“What about your mom’s lab?” he challenges. “You were hiding from me, weren’t you?”
Your lips tighten. If only he’d drop it. You don’t want to revisit that awkward moment. Everything about it makes your stomach ache.
“I…wasn’t,” you lie, your voice barely above a breath. Your face warms as a smile plays upon Coriolanus’ lips. You halt in your tracks, hugging your books against your chest as you pivot to him. You bashfully meet his gaze. “I was just a little spooked.”
He tilts his head, mirth swimming in his cobalt orbs.
“Spooked? By me? Do I scare you, angel?”
The pet name, uttered like a caress, sets your heart aflutter.
“No,” you mutter. Another lie. And it’s like he’s picked up on it, his soft, pink lips stretching even more.
“It wasn’t nice what she said,” he says abruptly.
You blink in confusion.
“I’m sorry?”
“Dr. Gaul, about you. It wasn’t nice.”
You shrug. “I’m used to it. It’s fine.”
He approaches you. The scent of his pricey cologne engulfs your senses. It’s masculine but the faint scent of roses lingers underneath, as if stubbornly clinging to him.
His voice lowers, his gaze entrapping yours. 
“It’s not fine. You work so hard to make her see you. You’re a good daughter.” You don’t realize his hand’s moved to your face until one of his fingers traces the curve of your cheek. Your heart races at the sudden touch. Coriolanus’ thumb drags down to your chin, his attention landing on your bottom lip. He smiles. “Hard work should be praised, rewarded even.”
Disarmed by his closeness and the strange words rolling off his tongue, you retreat.
You readjust the books between your arms.
“I s-should go. My next class is about to start.”
His words interrupt you.
“Hey, why don’t you have lunch with me and the others today?”
Your stomach clutches. You think about Coriolanus’ usual crowd, a bunch of kids from wealthy, influential families, popular and revered. Clemensia Dovecote. Livia Cardew. Ivy Briarose. Hilarius Heavensbee. Festus Creed. Most of them now hold the admiration of their peers for having survived the chaos the Tenth Hunger Games were.
You’d never fit in with them. In fact, you never did. Coriolanus must know that. Is he trying to punish you for eavesdropping on his conversation with your mother the other day? 
“I-I never talked to any of them,” you answer, panic swelling in your gut.
His brows crumple. “If you don’t talk to anyone, you’ll never make friends.”
“That’s okay. I don’t need friends,” you retaliate.
“It’s always useful, having friends,” he rasps. “The right connections, they can get you far.”
You anxiously roll your bottom lip between your teeth.
“I’m not good at…making conversation.”
“We’re having a conversation now,” he says, laughing.
As you mull over what he just said, a small smile tugs your lips.
“I guess we are.”
His gaze sharpens. “That’s a pretty smile. I’d love to see it more often.”
His low, soft voice sends chills through your spine.
Coriolanus’ long lashes droop as he gauges your expression.
“I’d be disappointed if I didn't see your face, angel.”
You fidget, your eyes sinking to the floor before rising to meet his again.
“I don’t know if that’s okay… for me to show up like that.”
“I’m inviting you, so of course it’s okay.”
He speaks like it’s a given, like whatever he says goes. His confidence unsettles you. 
You fall quiet, weighing your options. There’s something in Coriolanus’ silky voice that makes it hard to say no, but you’d hate being the unwanted guest at the popular kids’ table. 
Still, the expectation on his face makes you not want to let him down. 
“I’m not hearing a yes.”
“Y-Yes,” you stutter belatedly. 
A broad smile spreads on his handsome face.
“Perfect. See you at lunch then, angel.”
As he strolls away, your feet remain glued to the floor, your mind lingering in disbelief of what just occurred. 
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venxvending · 2 months
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𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐃𝐚𝐝!𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐱 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
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I've been having such brain rot for this pairing I had to write it out, and honestly, if ya'll really want me to, I'll make a full fic of this au because GOD DAMN
Anyways..... enjoy 😍
18+ MDNI!!!!!
Pairing- SingleDad!Sukuna x Teacher!Reader (AFAB) TW- Smut, degrading, p in v, exhibitionism? (kinda?), Sukuna being a meanie, Sukuna, public sex Word count: 916
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
Imagine- You’re a 5th-grade teacher with this one student who just doesn't know when to stop. He’s constantly disrupting class, trying to start fights, and back-talking you every single time you try and punish him for his misconduct. So, you’re left with no choice but to schedule a parent-teacher conference. 
Imagine- You’ve been waiting for 15 minutes, and this kid’s father still hasn't shown up. It’s not like you're shocked. You barely managed to keep his father on the phone for longer than a minute to schedule this damn conference. Not to mention the student’s father was a complete and utter jackass throughout the entire call. With an exasperated sigh, you tapped your nails on your desk, and you were just about to send the kid off to catch a late bus when the door to your classroom opened.
Imagine- The absolute shock on your face when you see what your student’s father looks like. While you have seen your fair share of hot single dads in your line of work, the way this man’s biceps moved underneath his tailored suit made you question throwing away your entire career just to be his cute little housewife. It took everything in you to straighten up and forge a warm smile as he walked over to your neatly decorated desk and took the chair next to his son.
Imagine- When you first hear his sultry and, dare you admit, sexy voice ask, “Why in the hell did you bother calling me here? Isn’t your job to be handling misbehaving 10-year-olds?” your mind immediately snapped away from the inappropriate fantasies of the bedroom. Your dazed expression shifts to one of annoyance as you once again slap on your customary smile and explain to him how much of a little shithead his son has been. You expected many different reactions from Sukuna, but what you didn't expect was for Sukuna’s face to curve up into a sly smirk as he laughed in your face. Your expression dropped as you stared at him dumbfounded. “And how is that my problem? From what it sounds like, the other kid was being the issue.” It took you a few seconds to respond, and when you did, it wasn't in your typical friendly tone. “I’m sorry, what? Your child literally gave him a black eye for not laughing at one of his jokes!” A stunned laugh of your own slipping past your lips. Never once in your years of teaching have you ever dealt with such a disrespectful parent. 
Imagine- After a painful hour of arguing back and forth, you and Sukuna finally reached a compromise. And well, it definitely wasn't what you were expecting. 
Imagine- The confused expression on your face as you watched Sukuna tell his son to wait outside while handing the kid the keys to his car. You only grew more bewildered as Sukuna slowly pulled off his blazer and stood up from his chair. “Now that the kid is out of the way, how about we settle this like adults… Yeah?” You would be lying if you didn't admit that what he said made you clench your thighs together. The more you thought about it, the more this was starting to look like a porno. 
Imagine- The absolute filth that would fall from Sukuna’s mouth as he has you bent over your desk and plowing into you from behind, his fat cock stretching your poor little cunt to its breaking point. Your eyes rolling to the back of your skull every time he slammed into you while groaning out a. “Stupid little slut, can’t even take a punishment. No wonder your students get away with so much shit… Their teacher is a weak little whore.” The sound of his laughter following his comment made your cunt squeeze his thick shaft as he bullied his cock into your pussy once more. 
Imagine- How pissed off Sukuna would get at the way your hands are practically nailed to your mouth as you tried to suppress your pathetic whines. You were only trying to spare your dignity as other faculty members could be roaming the halls outside your classroom. Yet, Sukuna wanted to hear you scream his name, and he WANTED people to hear it. You felt his hand grasp your wrist before you felt him rip your hand away from your mouth. “Come on baby, I know you wanna be loud for me. Show me how good this fat cock makes you feel.” You broke right then and there when he whispered that into your ear. 
Imagine- The absolute mess that would be made of your desk after he’s through with you. Papers, pencils, and folders were thrown across the floor while the cum that slowly dripped out of your spent cunt stained the wood of the desk. While you rested there, panting, you watched as Sukuna tucked his button-down back into his slacks and fixed his belt. “I’m assuming there’ll be a follow-up conference, hun? Oh, and don't worry, I’ll ensure the kid behaves.” Sukuna snickered with a wink. Before you could even string together a sentence, you watched as he walked out the classroom door, leaving you with cum spilling from your cunt and one hell of a mess to clean. “Like father like son.” You groaned while standing up, your wobbly legs almost causing you to go crashing back down to the floor. Luckily, you caught yourself before you did. “Bastard!” You huffed.
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decafgrace · 26 days
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I see everyone talk about Paul but can we talk about Chani and how she always gets the short end of the stick? I haven’t watched Dune pt. 2 yet but I have read the book and all this talk about the movie’s got me thinking about her again. Like poor girl can’t catch a break.
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[Dune series spoilers beyond this point]
She literally falls in love with the wrong guy (who actually is a colonizer on her planet) and then her family dies (and Paul almost does), and then her first son is killed as an infant, she marries into a crazy family and gets a super weird crazy sister in law and now is involved in space politics, her people end up going on killing spree in the name of her husband, and then she ends up having to SHARE said husband for political reasons and she has to accept being just a concubine, and then the “actual” wife of her husband gives her contraceptives in secret so she can’t bear a child, and when she finally is able to give birth she she dies, and then later one of her kids ends up becoming an immortal prescient sand worm space dictator while her husband goes blind and disappears into the desert-
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yandere-writer-momo · 22 days
Text
Yandere Baki Headcanons:
Struck By Cupid II
Yandere Baki Various x Fem Fighter Reader
Part 1
TW: Yandere behavior, stalking, uncomfortable themes, violence, minor smut, dubcon (alcohol), Jun Guevara, masturbation mentioned, and unconsensual touching (kissing and hugs
@abottleoflotion
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Pickle
Now you hadn’t meant to catch his attention! You truly hadn’t! But the gods were not on your side the day you met Pickle... The caveman took utmost interest in you when you showed genuine care for your comrades. Pickle took an interest in your tears. A horrifying and unwanted thought, but there was nothing you could do when your tears fell down your face for your defeated comrades. Pickle was quick to pick up on it. You cried just like him… were they your friends like the ones he had back during his time?
Why do you weep for those small, weak males? They are not worth your time when a stronger male like him is around!
Pickle began to approach you more often with an eager smile and bad breath. His clawed fingers ran through your hair as you became rigid. No need to fear! Your mate was here!
But you fought him with your small feet and fists. Something that fascinated him. Was this some sort of mating ritual? If it was, Pickle would indulge you!
You’d always jump whenever Pickle tried to touch or sniff you, but Pickle was determined to have you. Don’t ever worry, he’s quite loyal once he sets his mind to it.
And so began your constant attempts to fight him off whenever he’d follow you around. Pickle didn’t mind a kick to the face if it meant you’d give him attention. And even better, he’d get more chances to sniff you. Pickle was obsessed with how sweet you smelled… it was intoxicating.
Pickle often brought you animal carcasses and wild flowers as a gift. Your poor doormat had to be replaced once a week from all the guts that would be laid out on them from your prehistoric admirer. It was miserable.
Pickle often tried to break into your home to the point Jack and the others began to lurk around to ‘keep you safe.’
The entire ordeal was frustrating. You were no damsel in distress and you certainly weren’t happy with the way all of the other fighters treated you. Couldn’t they understand that you were uninterested in a relationship of any kind?
Yet despite all their best efforts to keep Pickle away, the caveman finally had enough and broke into your home while you were asleep.
In a way, it was kind of funny to wake up to this giant, smelly man cuddling beside you. His large arms wrapped around you with his face buried in your face like a child does to a mother. And his golden eyes peered up at you with so much admiration that you almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Pickle still broke into your home to lay beside you, you counted your stars lucky he didn’t give you the reporter treatment.
You sighed when Pickle cooed at you, his head nuzzled into your neck for comfort while you begrudgingly ran your fingers through his thick brown hair.
“Pickle, you know they’ll be upset if they find you here.” You spoke to the caveman as if he’d understand you. Your eyes glared down at the caveman who continued to purr and coo like a cat of some sort. Pickle was so odd… “You can’t stay here-“
You squealed when he dragged his tongue across the soft skin of your exposed neck, his eyes a bit half lidded. You tried not to retch from the horrid odor from his mouth. In Pickle’s mind, he needed to claim you. Pickle had to mark you so the other males would leave you alone!
Pickle then attempted to pin you under him but you were quick to kick him off you. Your feet landed a wicked blow to his chest that sent him onto the floor of your bed with a soft thud. His golden eyes showed hurt and he bared his fangs at you with a snarl.
“You’re gross, Pickle!” You furiously wiped the spit off your neck with your pajama sleeve. “You can’t be doing that.”
You sighed in defeat when Pickle tilted his head off to the side in curiosity. There was no use speaking to him… Pickle would never understand you.
You rose up and began to pet Pickle’s head like a dog. The caveman immediately perked up and purred at the relaxing sensation, his arms now wrapped around your legs.
You belonged to Pickle. You had just accepted him by giving him affection… Pickle was all yours, a fact that you would soon understand.
“What am I going to do with you?”
Hector Doyle
Oh ho ho ho, what’s this? A convict on the run? One that had blown up the dojo a few times and even disappeared without a trace for months? A convict who was quite smitten with Katsumi and was utterly horrified to find you in the way of their relationship. How dare you. How dare you get in the way of their friendship!
You didn’t even know you ran into a criminal until Hector Doyle stopped you on the street pretending to be a lost woman. He was determined to eliminate you so you’d be out of Katsumi’s life for good. Just a quick slice to your throat and you’d be gone.
“I’m terribly lost, I can’t seem to find my way-“ Doyle felt his breath hitch when you turned around and smiled at him. What a stupidly pretty woman you were… no wonder Katsumi was all over you.
“Oh! I can help you out, Miss. Is there a specific place you’re looking for? We could walk there together if you like since it’s getting late.” Doyle only flushed when you offered him your hand, your sunny smile never faded. You were not only stupidly pretty, but you were stupidly kind too.
Doyle would have to eliminate you another day since more people began to gather in the streets.
He quietly muttered a specific restaurant he had seen prior to coming up to you. The young man shocked that you hadn’t released his hand as you lead him to the restaurant. Your soft voice shared how you only recently came to Japan but that restaurant was a place you often frequented with a friend (a fact Doyle knew since you often stalked you and Katsumi there).
“Here it is! I recommend the tonkorsu ramen here, it’s one of my favorites.” You beamed at the mysterious woman. Doyle knew this fact, of course, but he gave you a smile. You had to be mocking him since that pork ramen was also Katsumi’s favorite. You little bitch.
Doyle decided then and there that he’d earn your trust and then he’d kill you. He wanted to savor your death. To see the light fade from your eyes while you were consumed with betrayal. Yes… he’d take his time with you.
And so began your friendship with the mysterious yet eccentric ‘Doyle.’ The taller ‘woman’ often talked over you, but you didn’t seem to mind. Rather, you seemed happy to have the company of another woman. You trusted Doyle, a fact that made the assassin giddy.
You often confided in Doyle and were always so sweet. Doyle began to look forward to spending time with you, he wanted more of you.
Doyle used to try to get information about Katsumi from you, but he started to realize just how infatuated Katsumi was with you. The more you spoke of the strange happenings with Katsumi, the less interested Doyle became. Perhaps Doyle only sought companionship with Katsumi and had built an unrealistic version of the Karateka in his head? He didn’t know… all he knew was the his heart fluttered when he was with you.
“I appreciate you being my friend, Doyle.” You smiled up at Doyle as you rested your head on her (his) shoulder. “I wish I could spend more time with you…”
Doyle felt his heart flutter when you turned your gaze to look up at him. He was happy he repaired his eyes so he was able to gaze upon your unearthly beauty. It was in this moment that he realized he was in love with you. That his feelings were Katsumi were purely strong attachment since he’s never had positive attention. With you, it was different.
You were warm and so soft… you always reassured him and you never got upset with him talking over you or being a bit mean to you. Doyle knew he didn’t deserve to be in your presence since his ulterior motives had been malicious, but now he was in love with you. Love. Love. Love. LOVE!! He loves you!
Doyle sometimes imagined you beneath him with a knife against your throat, a scene that got him riled up more than anything. He desperately wanted you beneath him… or on top.
Doyle began to steal your clothes, both soiled and clean, when he spent the night. He adored wearing your clothes, just to feel that much closer to you. He was especially fond of soiled clothes since he could drown in your scent. Doyle just couldn’t get enough of you. He wanted so much more than the friendship the two of you had, he wanted a relationship. And it was finally time to reveal himself to you…
“Doyle?” Doyle leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. A gentleness only reserved for you. “I didn’t realize how muscular you were.”
Your nervously chuckled under Doyle’s intense gaze, the redhead’s eyes practically bore a hole into your head. What on earth was going on with your friend?
“Oh (your name)… you’re always so innocent.”
Doyle reached up and pulled off his wig, your eyes widen a bit in shock. Doyle had short hair? The red color was honestly stunning.
“Your hair is such a pretty red-“ you squealed when Doyle pushed you back onto the couch. He took advantage of your surprise so pinned yours above your head.
“You’ve always been so naive… so kind.” Doyle bent forward and pressed soft kisses to your cheeks. “I’m a man, (your name). A man that loves you.”
Doyle chuckled when you pushed him off of you and pinned him down on the couch. A smirk on his devilishly, good-looking face. Yes… that look in your eyes made him squirm with delight. Look at him. Look. At. Him!
“You bastard…” Doyle took advantage of your emotional state to sit up and press his lips against yours in a passionate kiss.
“I may be one, but I’m yours. I’m your bastard.”
Jun Guevara
You met this flirt when you went on a vacation to Brazil to try to escape your suitors in Japan. A suave pirate who was smoother than butter. A cheesy pick up line was all it took to make your heart flutter. Jun was bold with his interest in you.
To you, this was a summer fling but you never took into consideration that this was so much more to Jun. The possibility of Jun being madly in love with you never occurred to you. What a fool you were.
You were a bit swayed by his charismatic charm and his honeyed words. It was so odd to be scooped up in a whirlwind romance, but who were you to complain? He was attractive. And he was a passionate lover… although you had avoided getting into bed with him.
There was not a doubt in your mind that he’d blow your mind, but there was a feeling in your gut that told you not to sleep with him. And you would trust your gut, it’s never lied to you once.
“Meu amor, how about I take you sailing?” Jun often took you sailing or sat with you on the beach around a fire as he held you close. He had the scent of coconuts and the ocean. He was the perfect man. The perfect escape.
Jun shared his past with you, he was on open book with radical ideologies that fascinated you. Jun had a way with words no other man that you’ve met, thus far, had. Jun had so much passion for his country and was brave to stand up to a foreign government to protect it. (He was a master manipulator)
Jun was also incredibly romantic. He wasn’t afraid to show public displays of affection nor did he care if you wished to cuddle with him whenever you wanted. Jun was an amazing lover, one you felt so bad about not being with…
Passionate kisses and he constantly offered to go down on you, but you had to refuse his offer. Jun was always a bit too eager for your taste, especially because the two of you didn’t have a label. You were only here for the summer.
“I’m sorry, Jun. I’m only here in your country until summer ends.” You failed to notice the way his face twisted and his blood ran cold. Only for a summer? Didn’t you understand that the two of you were in love?
Jun never pushed further, yet you could feel how passionate his kisses were. It’s been so long since you’ve been intimate with anyone… a thought that made you nervous.
As you went into your final week in Brazil, Jun encouraged you to drink more around the bon fire. He kept pushing drinks into your hands that you happily accepted. You trusted Jun. His forehead pressed against yours as the two of you exchanged rum flavored kisses and slurred words.
Yet you found yourself faltering in your initial rejections when the kisses became more adamant. When his gentle touches became lustful groping. When he scooped you up into his arms and carried you into his house… when you ended up in his bed with your fingers tangled in his brown locks with his face shoved between your bare legs.
That drunken night, you ended up sleeping with him. A huge mistake.
Jun’s arms pull your bare body against his chest as he pressed hot kisses up and down your shoulders. “Meu anjo, I just can’t get enough of you… I want to hear your pretty voice scream my name again, this time until it’s hoarse.”
“Jun, we can’t-“ You gasp when his fingers give your nipple a harsh pinch, his teeth now sunk into your shoulders in a playful bite.
“Did you not enjoy yourself? You seemed quite satisfied-“
“Jun, I go back to Japan in a few days-“ Jun grabbed your chin so he could slam his lips down on yours. The pirate maneuvered his body to lay on top of yours as he ground his hips into yours. A heat spread through you from his salacious touches.
“You’re not going anywhere, amor.” Jun chuckled, his lips trailed up your neck until he reached your ear. “This is your home now.”
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what do you think about this prompt
” you’re the most jealous woman i know ”
” you know other women? ”
with cassian😍
Cassian x jealous!reader
wc: 500
a/n: posting a blurb from my drafts while i finish working on some prompt requests, enjoy💗
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You and Cassian were out in Velaris and had decided to stop at a cafe to get hot chocolates. After picking what you want, Cassian goes to the checkout counter to pay while you find a table outside. You sit at a small table in the corner of the patio and wait for him to come join you. After a few minutes, you look inside to see what is taking Cassian so long. You see him standing at the counter with your hot chocolate, talking to the worker who seems to be standing way too close and giggling way too much. Immediately you get jealous, but you just keep watching. It’s obvious that Cassian is just trying to be nice, but the barista is not catching the hint. Eventually, you knock on the window to get his attention, causing them both to turn. The barista’s face goes red as she backs away from Cassian, and Cassian gives an apologetic look and hurries out to you.
He hands you the now lukewarm hot chocolate and sits across from you.
“You seem to have had a nice conversation in there.” You say with a completely calm voice, which only worries Cassian more. He knows how jealous you get.
“I’m sorry, y/n. She just kept talking and I didn’t want to be rude.” He explains. You just stay silent and take a sip of the hot chocolate.
“You were in there talking for so long that our drinks are cold.” You set the cup back on the table and stare at him.
“I can go order us new drinks. Don’t w-“ You cut him off.
“Oh, so you want to go back in there and talk to her some more? I don’t think so.” You snap at him and hurry to stand before walking inside. Sure, you were probably overreacting, but it was hard not to when half of Velaris was constantly drooling over your mate. Sometimes you just got fed up with it.
When you return, Cassian is sitting there with a sad look on his face, like a child who got put in timeout. You set his new drink in front of him, hot chocolate with extra marshmallows. Even if you are upset at him, you always still want to do things that make him happy, like extra marshmallows.
“Thank you.” He murmurs.
A few moments pass while you two silently drink your cocoas. Eventually, you look up at him, and you can’t help but crack a smile at the hot chocolate mustache on his face.
“I can’t stay mad at you. You’re too cute.” You giggle, taking another sip of cocoa.
“You are the most jealous female I know.” He chuckles, letting out a breath of relief.
“You know other females?” You narrow your eyes and stare. His eyes go wide with panic.
“What? No! I didn’t mean… I’ve never met a female before!” Obviously not true, but Cassian was never good with words when he panics. “The only female I ever interact with is you I promise!” This only makes you laugh.
“Mor and Amren might be upset to hear that you won’t be speaking to them anymore.” You giggle, dropping the upset tone. Cassian lets out a breath and chuckles, wrapping an arm around you.
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poor cass can’t ever catch a break
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nav-i-nav · 15 days
Text
Actually, while we are at it, can we talk about how awful a lot of the fanbase treats Basil? My man can’t catch a break because almost everyone misinterprets him one way or another.
Where do I even start? Literally everything he does is taken the wrong way. There’s the people who characterize him as an obsessive yandere who only cares about Sunny and did everything in his power to isolate him. On the other hand, we have people who just remove one of the basic core aspects of him as a whole and make him an empty husk with no real personality.
Headacanon him however you want, but also try to understand him? I don’t know how people can say he only cares about Sunny when it’s clear he deeply appreciates his friends. He has a stronger bond with Sunny, but that doesn’t mean he’s a possessive and obsessed person who is toxic.
He definitely fucked up along the way, but his actions were never intended to hurt Sunny intentionally. He was in a panic and all he wanted was to keep his best friend safe. People constantly treat him as he’s a disgusting person for simple fact he shows mental illness signs, which is incredibly disheartening because there IS people in real life who act this way and can’t help it! What a relief it is to know people will treat me or my friends like this if we dare show an ounce of distress or panic!
Being mentally ill does not justify your actions, but this also doesn’t mean you are allowed to treat people who suffer from them like scum. People like Basil deserve to get help, to have people who support them so they can start healing. Basil clearly didn’t have that support, the only person that was there for him being his bedridden grandmother who he eventually lost.
And on the other hand, we have people who just choose to get rid of Basil’s personality altogether and characterise him as this character who is all suffering and trauma based off things that are NOT canon. It’s true that Basil’s life doesn’t exactly fit a “normal” childhood (having to live with his grandmother for unknown reasons) but that doesn’t immediately mean he is beyond traumatized? Basil is a little shy, sure, but a lot of people are. Basil used to be a smart and lively kid who loved his friends dearly. It wasn’t until AFTER the incident that he spiralled to the point he is where we see him in game.
People either disregard his trauma and paint him as a villain (let’s make one thing clear, there are NO villains in OMORI), or try to give him even more trauma for no apparent reason. All we know is that his parents aren’t really present in his life, and while that may bring some issues, from what we can see in cutscenes and the photo album, Basil lived a comfortable life surrounded by a loving family member and friends who cared about him.
You are free to explore Basil’s character however you like, but there’s a point where it no longer feels like Basil.
There is nothing wrong with showing his gentle side, just as how there’s nothing wrong to explore his unhealthy behaviour. But focusing on only one of the aspects of his entire self just turns him into a one-dimensional character with no redeemable qualities.
In my opinion, Basil is one of the best examples of a person struggling with mentally illness in media, yet people choose to ignore the complexity of his character to have either a selfish and dangerous yandere or a cute and shy femboy who’s only there to look pretty.
Write him like the mess he is. He is unstable. He is resentful, he is paranoid. That’s what makes Basil’s character so loved. That’s what makes him feel so relatable and human. Ignoring one side of his self takes away all of that. OMORI is a game about acceptance and forgiving. Why shouldn’t we apply those terms to their characters? It’s rather hypocritical for the fanbase to treat Sunny as a poor boy who only did what he did due to stress and trauma and then mark Basil as a psychopath with no redeemable features as if he wasn’t also a scared child who witnessed his very best friend push his sister down the stairs.
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anxi-aashi · 1 month
Note
Pls pussy drunk childe :)
a/n: say less
warnings: fem!bodied reader, cunnilingus, overstimulation, begging, fingering, dacryphilia?? not really just crying, profanity, not proofread
MDNI
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How long had it been? You weren’t sure. Long enough that sweat had begun dripping down the back of your thighs from the bend in your knees. Long enough that your voice cracked every time a plea slipped from you. Definitely long enough that the sheets beneath your ass felt just as damp as your tear-stained cheeks.
But no matter how long it has been, Childe was still there, laid between your legs, lapping at your poor pussy like he was heading off to war.
For probably the twentieth time that night, your hands weakly attempted to push Childe away, desperate for a break from the attention he was giving your cunt, but you were unsuccessful. Your insubordination only caused him to remove one of the hands that held your thighs open and pin your wrists to your tummy. A groan ripped from his throat at the way your unattended thigh snapped to his head, but he didn’t stop.
You let out a weak sob. “Ajax, please, I can’t! ‘S too much, too—”
Childe dragged his tongue up the expanse of your slit, finishing with a swirl around your clit, collecting the arousal that still miraculously oozed out of you for a taste. He glanced up at you, finally allowing you a chance to catch your breath; studied the way your breasts sank and rose with every heave of air you drew into your lungs. 
Your arms shook from the effort it took you to sit up and look at him, but the strain was worth it when you saw what an absolute mess he was.
Pupils covering nearly all of his blue irises, a mix of your slick and cum covering the lower half of his face, dripping off his chin and adding to the puddle that was probably soaking through to the mattress. He panted, admiring you from under half-lidded eyes, at the mess he had made you, and you knew he still wasn’t done.
“You taste so fucking good,” he groaned, sliding his hands over your thighs. Childe licked his lips, bringing his attention back down to your pussy. “One more? Can I have one more?”
Shocks of overstimulation rippled through you at the touch. A whimper slipped from you. “I don’t…” you couldn’t finish your sentence before he was already slipping two nimble fingers back into your heat.
The squelches were deafening, fighting for dominance over your whines as he wasted no time massaging the gummy spot in your walls. 
“You do, I know you do,” he mumbled, leaning down to wrap his lips around your clit for a devastating suck. “My pussy’s got one more, she does. Can’t you hear her asking for it?” He picked up the pace, bullying his fingers into your g-spot. 
Your hips jerked out of your control, hands grabbing a fistful of his hair, but as you felt a swell of heat in the pit of your stomach, you no longer knew whether it was to push him away or pull him closer. 
Around Childe’s fingers, your walls fluttered. “Mhmm yeah, you gonna cum?” he gasped, tongue still lapping at your clit, “Come on, please, please, wan’ you to cum around my fingers again— Fuck!” A giddy laugh bubbled from his lips as he sat back on his knees to watch your cunt clench and convulse, squirt spraying on the sheets and his lower abs.
Childe pulled his fingers from your pussy, licking them clean for no one else's pleasure but his own. “Fuck,” he sighed, removing his fingers with a pop! “Been eatin’ you out for so long now, I didn’t think you had that in you,” he marveled. “Think you can do that for me again?”
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cieloclercs · 6 months
Note
grace , send me a trope + a character and i’ll write a short drabble from it
hii, can i please request best friends to lovers with ollie?
congrats on 1k btwww 🫶🫶
call me cupid — ollie bearman
pairing. ollie bearman x best friend!reader
word count. 2.7k (i swear i tried to make it short lmao)
warnings. kind of a weird fusion of fluff and angst ??? unrequited love vibes (that’s not actually unrequited but u get what i mean), pining ollie, pining reader, arthur lowkey is the mastermind, and is also sick of said pining, abrupt ending i’m sorry 😭
author’s note. hello anon! thank you so much for your request ☺️ i hope this is ok ! i know it cuts off quite abruptly, but i’d be open to writing a part 2 with the confession if you want one <3
read below the cut
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He’s staring again.
It’s becoming a problem, but can anyone really blame him? You look nothing short of angelic under the strobe lights, your shimmering dress catching his eye every time you move. You’re dancing with a girl he doesn’t recognise, that beautiful smile he adores stretched across your crimson-painted lips. It makes him wonder what she’s saying to you to make you seem so content.
Best friends shouldn’t look at each other the way he’s looking at you now. Ollie knows that. Yet on days like today, he really can’t help it. This is your party, celebrating your third Formula 2 victory in a row. He’d watched from way back in P5 as you stormed through the field, fighting off every challenge your opponents tried to throw your way. There’s a reason the fans call you the Queen of Formula 2, after all. You’re practically untouchable. All it does is heighten his awareness of his own pounding heart whenever you’re around; turn his insides to velvet when you so much as smile his way. Yes, it’s becoming a problem — and Ollie isn’t sure there’s anything he can do to stop it.
“You know, I’ve just thought of something you should try.” A voice speaks up to his left, breaking him out of whatever trance you’ve unwittingly put him under. He turns. Arthur Leclerc stands like the devil on his shoulder, arms folded, expression unimpressed. When Ollie says nothing, he goes on, “It’s called talking to her. Works wonders, really, I’d highly recommend. It’s how I met Carla.”
The younger of the two rolls his eyes. Arthur is the only other living soul on earth who knows about his infatuation with you — officially, at least. In reality, almost everyone in the Ferrari Academy has long since figured it out. Everyone except you, ironically. But Ollie supposes it makes sense; why would someone like you ever even consider him as something more than just a friend?
“Can we not do this tonight?” Ollie sighs, exasperated, “I’m just trying to forget about…all of that for a moment.”
This time it’s Arthur who rolls his eyes. Ever since he first caught on to his friend’s crush on you a little over eight months ago, he’s been trying every method under the sun to try and make him see that maybe, just maybe, he shouldn’t be so pessimistic about his chances. But the answer is always the same. Ollie remains convinced, like some poor, naïve, completely oblivious child, that you’d never so much as give him a second glance if he told you how he felt. It’s complete bullshit, of course. Arthur has seen the way your eyes search immediately for his after a race, be it a good result or even a bad one. He’s watched you brush off close friends (including him, many a time) even family members, to get to Ollie. But of course, Ollie himself doesn’t notice. No fool in love ever does.
“You’re not going to forget though, are you?” Arthur muses, glancing at his friend out of the corner of his eye, “I know you, and I know you can’t stay away from her for that long. You’ll cave eventually.” he smirks. At the sight of Ollie’s pink cheeks, he knows he’s caught him out.
“Why don’t you go annoy someone else for a change?” the Brit grumbles. There’s the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. Arthur could pick it out even in the pitch dark.
“Don’t pretend you don’t love me.” he teases.
Within moments he’s cowered behind Carla on the other side of the room, chased away by Ollie’s (half joking) threats to crash him out of the next race on purpose if he doesn’t shut his mouth. But Arthur’s words stick with him throughout the entire night. Somehow, they always do.
In truth, Ollie's been grappling with the idea of telling you for quite a while; to put him out of his own misery more than anything else. He's sick and tired of the 'best friends' label. It seems so trivial, so reductive to say that it hurts him, when in fact, every time you refer to him as such, he’s sure you must be ripping his heart out of his chest. But then he can’t help but feel melodramatic — at least he has you, even if only as a friend. Even if you don’t love him in the way he loves you, you’re still there. Close, though perhaps not quite close enough. Ollie has decided not to take that for granted. He knows how easily it can be snatched away from him.
In the end (just as he always seems to be) Arthur is right — it’s not even an hour before he finds himself gravitating towards you; unwittingly being pulled into your orbit from which he fears, if he’s not careful, he’ll never be able to escape. You’re hovering on the edge of a group of engineers now, sipping on a glass of sparkling water out of a straw. How you can appear drop dead gorgeous yet so damn adorable at the same time, he has no idea. Ollie feels he’ll be spending the rest of his life trying to figure you and your many layers out.
“Hi, Ol.” you greet him with a smile like the sun when he finally plucks up the courage to approach. He mutters something in reply, though as soon as the words have left his mouth he’s already forgotten them — he could have said something completely unintelligible for all he knows. That’s the effect you have on him.
“Having fun?” you prompt again, your soft smile spreading into a full-blown grin. Ollie glances briefly around the room. It’s absolutely packed full of Ferrari Academy members, both drivers and personnel. Normally, this kind of event would be his worst nightmare. Even if he’s known these people for years, the idea of having to socialise and look like he’s having fun makes him feel sick. But then he remembers all this is for you. It’s to celebrate your achievements in a male dominated field, which no woman has ever managed to do before. When he reminds himself of that, all his anxiety suddenly seems to melt away.
“Of course.” Ollie grins back. His heart soars to see you light up at his words, to see you giggle behind the rim of your glass and look at him as if he’s the only person in the world. At times like this he can truly believe that maybe Arthur is right — maybe, if he confesses, his world won’t come crashing down. Maybe you’ll light it up for the better.
“What happened to you at turn one? Nic told me you dropped out of the points." you go on, eyebrows furrowing with the remnants of confusion. Ollie had begun the feature race in P2 behind you, yet you'd find that the competition you'd so anticipated disappeared not even before the first lap had ended. The Brit sighs, shaking his head.
"I collided with Jack trying to defend." he tells you with a wince, "Damaged my sidepods."
Your expression twists into one of sympathy. There's almost no coming back from that, even for a driver as talented as Ollie. Still, you think, to climb back up to P5 after sustaining damage like that is no mean feat. You don't miss the way he flushes bashfully when you tell him as such.
"It was my own fault." he mumbles, trying desperately to cool the flames in his cheeks as you watch him, eyebrows raised. He always feels like he's been put under a microscope when you look at him like this. There's no escaping the calculation in your stare, the curious scrutiny. "I took too much of a risk."
You shake your head. There's the tiniest of knowing smiles on your lips. Ollie is always so hard on himself. It's something you both admire him for, and find yourself exasperated with; he never seems to be able to see how brilliant he really is -- or at least, how brilliant he is in your eyes.
"Well, whoever was at fault, it's a real shame." you dismiss with a wave of your hand, "I miss sharing the podium with you."
Ollie is sure he must be melting. He can't figure out if it's from your words alone, or from the tiny pout that's fallen on your lips, or even the soft glint in your eyes as you gaze up at him. Suddenly the proximity between the two of you seems to have all but diminished. He chuckles nervously.
"Next race will be ours." the Brit murmurs. Little by little you inch closer to him, your hand resting on the ledge you're leaning on, just ghosting over where his own lays flat. He breathes in sharply.
"Promise?" you whisper. The point of your heel bumps against his foot. Ollie glances down at it in a panic, before his head snaps up to meet your piercing gaze. He fears that if he rocks forwards only the slightest bit on the balls of his feet, he'll be close enough for his nose to bump yours. He's never felt so consumed, so intoxicated by another person in all his life. He can smell the honey scent of your hair, feel your warm breath tickling his cheek. His gaze flickers down for the briefest of moments to your lips - soft and pink, parted as if there's something else you want to say, but the words have gotten trapped in your throat.
"I promise." Ollie croaks.
Just one more step, you think. One more step, and he'll kiss you. He's so close, closer than he's ever been before, and suddenly you can see everything falling into place: all the nights spent crying on Arthur's shoulder, wondering whether Ollie is truly just scared as your friend says he is, or whether he simply doesn't feel the same. It will all fade into a distant, long-abandoned memory. Finally, you'll be able to call him something more than just your best friend.
But then he steps away.
You flinch, taken aback at his sudden movement. Ollie stares at you, wide-eyed, breathing heavily as if he's just run a marathon. He can't believe what's just happened — can't believe he was about to kiss you. How could he be so stupid?
"I —" he stammers. The look on your face is hard to decipher: shocked, confused, hurt. If Ollie looked a bit closer, he'd be able to see the last of those emotions, or the way your shock is mixed with a horrible sinking feeling of disappointment. But, of course, he doesn't see it that way. He's stuck on the same, poisonous idea that's been plaguing his mind ever since he first figured out his feelings — you don't feel the same way.
"I'm sorry." Ollie gasps. Then, without another word, he turns on his heel and runs, leaving you stood alone, arms half outstretched as if to try and stop him. You're too late, of course. Within moments he's out of sight. Gone, just like your hope.
"Well that was a train wreck." a familiar voice speaks up from somewhere on your left. You spin around, groaning as you spot Arthur, arms folded, eyebrows furrowed in what you can only imagine is frustration.
"You don't say." you drawl bitterly, glaring down into your empty glass. Wordlessly, your friend passes you his own half-full one. You lean down to sniff at its contents, and pull away, nose scrunched in distaste — definitely not water. But you think, at this point, you're owed some kind of distraction.
"Why does he keep running away from me?" you grumble. It's been months of this cat and mouse game now. Tonight is the closest you've ever got; the first time you've seen with your own eyes that Ollie does reciprocate your feelings. Yet it feels like for that step forward, all you've gone and done is taken another two back.
"Because he's an idiot." Arthur answers plainly. The Monégasque watches as you take a gulp of his drink, pulling a face at the burn in your throat, and wordlessly reaches forwards to take the glass back from your hands. He's grateful that you don't complain.
"Well I wish he'd stop." you mutter. As much as you're willing to wait for Ollie for as long as he needs, it's painful, having to go on loving him from a distance like this. Every time you lock eyes, the longing grows more intense. You're not sure how much longer you can take it.
"You know, you're just as bad as he is." Arthur speaks up. Once again, your head snaps towards him, eyes narrowing.
"What?"
"You heard me." the Monégasque says with a sigh, "Look, I want to help you, I really do, but you could make all of this so much easier for yourself if you just tell him how you feel."
And there it is. You can’t help but let out a bitter chuckle. It sounds so simple coming from Arthur’s mouth — so easy. God knows you’ve tried, time and time again, to be honest with Ollie about your feelings, to rip off the plaster in the hopes the pain of it won’t be too great; that he might just tell you he’s been trying to say the same thing all this time. But whenever you feel as if you might be ready, the words catch in your throat. You just can’t stomach them. It’s a kind of vulnerability you’ve never shown to anyone before, let alone someone who already means so much to you. At the end of the day, you’re still young. No matter how much you love Ollie now, the chances of him being the one are low.
At least, that’s what you’ve been trying to convince yourself. But a part of you knows already — there’s no one else on earth you’ll ever feel this way about. Young or not, it’s always going to be Ollie.
“I don’t know if I can take that risk, Arth.” you say quietly, “If Ollie and I — if we’re not meant to be together…isn’t it better just to have him, even as a friend, than risk losing him entirely?”
You’re honestly not sure which is the most painful: having to pretend that you don’t love him, or the idea of one day not having him at all. Yet, you still know which one you’d choose — even if it hurts like ripping your own heart out of your chest.
“Huh.” Arthur says, eyebrows furrowing again. There’s something different in his expression this time, though. It’s less frustration, more a spark. As if he’s realised something you and Ollie may not have just yet.
“What?” you ask. Suddenly, Arthur begins to smile. You watch him disbelievingly, none the wiser as to what on earth he has to be so happy about at the present moment. Then he’s laughing, shaking his head as if in mirthful despair.
“You really are soulmates.” the Monégasque snickers, watching almost gleefully as you grow even more confused.
“What?” you ask again. Part of you begins to wonder if Arthur has lost his mind — you wouldn’t blame him after the game he’s been playing: acting as some sort of secret go-between in the middle and your and Ollie’s back and forth self-doubts. But Arthur hasn’t lost the will to live with it all just yet. In fact, he thinks he’s finally figured out how to make the both of you see sense.
“He said the exact same thing to me.”
And with that, Arthur turns on his heel, leaving you stood alone, your mind racing. All this time you’ve been trying to play the long game; trying to anticipate what Ollie is thinking, when in reality, your thoughts are practically shared. You’re both afraid. More than you ever have been in your life. But for the first time you begin to think, perhaps fear doesn’t have to be the dividing factor.
“Why do you look so pleased with yourself?” Carla Brocker asks her boyfriend as he retakes his familiar position at her side, still grinning like a child who’s just been told Christmas is coming early. Arthur says nothing, merely tilting his head in the direction of where you stand motionless. It only takes a few moments for Carla to catch on. She turns to face her boyfriend again, mouth hanging open.
“You think you’ve got through to her?” she whispers urgently.
Once again, Arthur Leclerc grins proudly.
“Just call me Cupid.”
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sugurustattoo · 20 days
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tldr: suguru as a child/early teenager and his journey as a sorcerer after he meets you, his new neighbor.
cw: mentions of vomiting, not in-depth. not edited, not beta-read, rushed, and possibly ooc suguru. gender neutral and sorcerer!reader.
a/n: sigh... i’m so tired. probably when i wake up i’ll actually edit it, but i just needed to get something out, so maybe consider this a lil teaser...? i might make a second part expanding on how he ends up going to jjt n then whenever he defects, but im absolutely exhausted rn. exams have been kicking my ass </3 + im going to a festival so this might not be edited for a lil while longer. sorry yall!
a part of me thinks suguru would live in some small, unknown little town. the people are closed-minded, content with the life they’ve built for themselves, and they don’t want it to change. if you’re born there, it’s hard to get out, especially with such few opportunities. it’s a town meant to keep aspiring little doves caged within its walls.
so imagine some six, maybe seven year-old boy going around saying he sees monsters sometimes. of course, the first conclusion any adult would reach is that the poor thing is having nightmares. he’ll grow out of it — all of them do.
but suguru doesn’t.
he’s afraid to sleep at night, and despite his parents’ pleas for him to sleep in their bed, he says that he can’t. “what if you get hurt too?”
they end up having to sneak melatonin in his dinner to get him to sleep at night.
when he turns eleven, he gets a grasp on his technique. he has to eat the monsters, consume them so that they don’t go out and hurt anyone else. that’s easy enough, right?
for the first few weeks, he vomits. they taste disgusting, like dried, crusty rags used to clean up puke and shit. but he has to do it, he has to! otherwise, who’s going to keep his innocent parents safe?
so he keeps going. exorcise, consume, puke. exorcise, consume, puke. exorcise, consume, puke.
exorcise and consume.
then, at age twelve, you come along.
you’re like the sun peeking through the dark clouds after days full of rain and thunder. a breath of fresh air, a sugary treat to balance out the saltiness of this shitty town.
you move into the once abandoned house right beside his, a radiant smile on your face and eyes twinkling with determination.
beautiful, perfect, normal.
the two of you click almost instantly, although suguru’s a little reluctant at first — what if you think he’s weird? his parents and teachers say he’s a bit troubled, nosy neighbors joke that he’s a few sandwiches short of a picnic, and bored grandmas claim he’s been touched by the devil. despite their rumors, despite suguru’s reputation, despite the fact you two are polar opposites, you don’t avoid him. in fact, it’s like those things just entice you even more.
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“suguru.”
the fear in your voice catches him off-guard, and he stops walking. your hand grips the hem of his jacket, and your finger slowly raises to point towards the corner.
“what is that?”
it’s a crude thing. skin a dingy shade of purple, stubby limbs twisted and contorted into impossible angles, and jagged yellow teeth that poke past its thin, cracked lips.
that’s when he realizes it: you can see them too.
he’s not alone. finally, fucking finally, suguru geto is not alone.
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by thirteen, you and suguru are attached at the hip. there’s not a day where the two of you don’t see each other, even when you get grounded for accidentally breaking a bathroom stall trying to exorcise a curse.
they’re so ungrateful.
he’s tainted your image. you were once normal, the cute neighbor nextdoor, but now you’re best friends with suguru, the pretty boy with the strange bangs and broken mind.
you don’t care though, and he loves that you never have.
nothing can separate you. you go to school together, take the same classes (thanks to suguru modifying his schedule), walk home together, exorcise curses together.
you’re all he needs, and he’s all you need. you’re the only ones who understand each other on a fundamental level, who know each other inside and out, down to the very last atom in your bodies.
with you, he’s sure that he can snap the chain and leave this place, to soar so high in the sky that there’s nothing and no one left but you and him.
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you hand suguru his slushie, and he takes a long sip, letting the sugar-filled drink wash away the lingering taste of today’s curse.
“sometimes, i think we’re kinda like batman and superman.”
suguru can’t help but scoff. “us? you think we’re superheroes?” how unsurprisingly childish of you.
you nod, snapping your kit-kat bar in half and taking a bite out of it. “yeah, dude! we fight alien bad guys with our superpowers. pretty cool, right?”
he leans back, legs spread and an arm resting on the back of the bench. “sure, but they always get rewarded for saving the day. what do we get?” he doesn’t wait for your answer. “nothing.”
a small frown flits across your typically cheerful features, and suguru wishes he could shove his words back into his mouth and down his throat.
“mm... i think we get stuff. we get to see our parents safe, and even if no one else here really likes us, they’re safe thanks to us, too.” the toe of your shoe traces shapes into the pavement. “we’re the only ones that can do this, suguru. it’s our duty.”
right. duty.
suguru hums, but you can’t tell whether it’s in agreement or not. you decide that it doesn’t matter, that he’s just thinking like always.
“wish i was rich, though," you joke and pop the rest of your little kit-kat stick into your mouth.
after a moment, he shakes his head and takes a sip of his bright purple drink. “me too.”
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corazondebeskar-reads · 4 months
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you know you never stood a chance - epilogue
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you know you never stood a chance series
epilogue: maybe light a candle
series masterlist | prev chapter 
Joel Miller x f!reader
Words: 2.9k
Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and Joel hasn't come home yet. (this takes place about three years after the end of the main story.)
Warnings: established relationship, angst, christmas in the apocalypse, technically spoilers for tlou pt 2, mentions of breastfeeding (not as a fetish), found family, poor communication, oral (f receiving), postpartum depression, possibly violating child labor laws by using a baby as a plot device, pls remember I am playing fast and loose with both canon and the timelines lol
also on ao3
dividers by @saradika-graphics
It’s Christmas Eve.
Or, at least, according to the council. You’re not sure if anyone is really sure what the date is anymore.
But for all intents and purposes, maybe it’s Christmas Eve. The holiday is a thin, moth-bitten version of its former self, but you’ve never been the holly-jolly or the religious sort, so Christmas Lite suits you just fine.
Maria had invited you and Lulu to the mess hall for a big meal and activities for the kids. It was less of an invitation than an expectation, but you stayed home anyway.
And maybe it wasn’t fair. Maybe she wanted you there for the same reason you didn’t want to be there. She’s fucking tough, maybe the strongest person you know, but she has to be feeling Tommy’s absence today, too. It isn’t Aléjandra’s first Christmas, but likely the first one she’ll remember, which is worse.
But it’s more than it just being Lulu’s first Christmas. It’s that Maria had made a point of telling you that Ellie would be there.
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You prepare to watch her leave for the night. The light pours in the window when she opens the shed door, and you know she can see your shadow haunting the living room.
You want Ellie to meet her sister. You dream of it nearly every night. But there’s no way in hell you’re doing it without Joel. It’d break his heart. You like to think she knows, at least. Someone (probably Tommy) had to have told her.
So when she climbs the steps instead of walking past, you freeze. Her knuckles rap against the wood, and you close your eyes. You can’t. You need to, but you can’t.
“Maria asked me to remind you that you promised to come by tonight,” she calls through the door.
She knows you can hear her. She knows you choose not to respond (but she doesn’t know you bite your lip so hard to resist that it bleeds).
It would be wrong. But the ache is so strong you’re convinced it must be a physical wound.
She leaves.
“There goes Ellie,” you tell the baby, as you always do. “She’s got places to be, but she loves you very much.” The guilt of keeping them apart makes you nauseous.
Maybe it isn’t true yet, but you think it is. You think, despite everything, despite the anger she harbors for Joel (and a fragment of that for you), that she already loves her sister. Even if she’s only the shadow of a sister spied through dark windows and across the street.
You wonder if she knows her name. Tommy had started the whole “Lulu” thing, and though it had grown on you now, it made you suspect he hadn’t thought to mention she had a real, full name.
Luna Luann. Luna, for Ellie, and Luann for Joel’s favorite tía, the one who smuggled them chewing gum and taught Joel his strong right hook when the other kids were picking on Tommy.
You’d take this secret to the grave, but you hated the name Luann. But when he brought up the suggestion, he had talked about her for nearly twenty minutes, and so you love the woman despite her name, just for the way she brought a little more of Joel out.
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You thought they’d be home by Christmas. You’re trying not to worry, but worrying’s one of the things you’re good at. It doesn’t help that you’re still struggling. You’ve been told it’s normal, but these last two weeks with Joel gone have been so hard.
She’s cutting a tooth (her very first), and you can barely catch a break. You sleep when she sleeps, but it’s never enough. A few neighbors have been bringing casseroles still, and it’s the only reason you’ve been eating.
So, you think it’s probably understandable that you crumble after you watch Ellie walk away and Luna starts to cry. The lights are out except for the single candle in the front window. You keep it lit all night in case Joel comes home. A beacon.
If you had a widow’s walk, you’d be haunting it. But you’re not a widow—couldn’t be, you’re not even a wife—and he’ll be fine. He’ll come back.
Joel always comes back.
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It might be Christmas Eve, and you’re slumped against the wall of your living room, crying in tandem with your infant. There’s nothing wrong, you checked. It’s so much worse that she’s probably just picking up on your mood.
You orbit around each other that way. She is the sun that you and Joel revolve around, but his absence has sent you both off balance.
The sun might be the more accurate comparison, but you usually like to say Lulu, your Luna, was your moon, and Joel was the sun. He disagrees. He says he’s the rock, and you are her light.
It was profoundly beautiful, but none of the concepts held up to the reality. The truth was that you were a constellation, but without Ellie, you made no recognizable form. Sagitta with one feather, an arrow that can never fly true.
When you settle down to sniffles and the errant tear, Lulu has fallen asleep against your chest. You creep upstairs and lay her in the crib squeezed between the bed and the wall.
The room was plenty large, and part of it had been set up as a nursery. But after she was born, you spent each night on the floor next to the crib.
Joel hadn’t been having that. After the first week, he sat you down and asked if you’d be able to sleep in the bed if she was next to you.
And then he just… built a second, smaller crib. One that fits right up against your side of the mattress. It was low to the ground, so all you had to do was reach down, and you could feel her little chest rise and fall, or scoop her up to nurse her in the middle of the night. She’ll grow out of it fast, but by then, you hope you’ll feel secure enough to move her to the big one just across the room.
You had been embarrassed. Didn’t want anyone to know. After all, mothers had been putting their children to sleep in different rooms for ages. But you weren’t afraid to tell Joel, knew if there was anyone in this town that understood, it’d be him (and Maria).
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with keepin’ your baby close,” he said, as gruff and blunt as always.
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When Joel comes home, he finds you that way. On your side, arm dangling into the crib with Lulu’s tiny fingers wrapped around your own. He sat down and gently tapped your shoulder, trying not to disturb the baby.
“What’re you doin’ here, darlin’?” he whispers when you stir. You blink up at him through sore eyes, then smile softly, sending his heart skittering.
“You’re home,” you say, extracting your finger and sitting up to reach for him.
He wraps you in his arms, lets you burrow into the nest of his broad shoulders. “M’sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, chasing the words with a kiss.
“Tommy okay?”
“Yeah, he’s good. Just hit some delays on the way home. Bridge was out. I thought y’all were going to the party?”
You don’t answer right away. You know he’ll feel bad. That he does feel bad, that the guilt eats a little part of him each day. All he wants is his girls all together.
“I was,” you mumble, feeling the tears prick with a vengeance. “But Maria said… Maria said that Ellie would be there.”
Joel’s arms squeeze you a little tighter for a moment. “Y’know I don’t want to get in the way of you talkin’ to her.”
“I know. But after last time… she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore, anyway.”
“She’ll come around,” Joel says.
It reignites a new round of self-hatred, that he’s sitting here consoling you. After all, she had spoken to you after their fight. Sat down and told you she wasn’t mad at you, that she knew he probably didn’t even tell you.
And he hadn’t told you, hadn’t clued you in, trying in his foolhardy way to spare you the burden of the lie. And you were mad at him for it; you’d had your own spat after.
But you weren’t mad he did it. Not one bit.
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He can tell you don’t want to keep talking about it, and that’s fine by him.
“You miss me, baby?” he murmurs, a teasing brush of his lips over your neck.
You roll your eyes. “Oh no, did you have to go two weeks without gettin’ laid?”
He chuckles, dark and raspy, as he reaches to cup your ass and squeeze, smirking when you gasp.
“And you’re tellin’ me those little fingers were enough for your greedy cunt? Like ya ain’t droolin’ for my cock right now?”
You whimper. He’s right. Two weeks is too fucking long for either of you.
He tugs you properly into his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, before he just stands up and carries you into the guest room across the hall. It’s not ideal, but if you leave both doors open, you’ll be able to hear Luna if she wakes.
“How’ve you not thrown your back out?” you grumble as he manhandles you.
He tosses you onto the bed, already peeling off his clothes and pointedly ignoring you.
He’s halfway through tugging his jeans down when he stops and looks at you. “What’re you doing? Let me see ya, sweetheart.”
You’ve long gotten over how easy you are for him. You only hadn’t stripped yet because you wanted to work him up. “You can see me just fine. Or do you need your glasses, old man?”
He takes the bait, shaking his head, before looming over you and running his hands down the sides of his old shirt you use for a nightgown. He barely grazes your breasts, just brushing the tips of your hardened nipples and grinning when you whine.
“Up,” he orders, tugging at the hem of the shirt.
You lift enough for him to pull it off and flop back down. It’s your turn to smirk as he watches the way your tits bounce with deep hunger.
And then he fucking rips the along the side of your panties and pulls them off, throwing them to the floor.
“Hey!”
“Shut up, you can sew ‘em back.”
“I’ve already sewn that pair twice, Joel. You’re a fuckin’ menace.”
“Is that so?” Suddenly his breath is hot against your cunt, and you clench around nothing.
“Uh-huh,” you moan as he runs one finger along the seam of your cunt. “‘Cause you’re a menace.”
“Only for you, darlin’.”
You laugh. “Oh yeah? Let me do a survey around town.”
He shuts you up by sliding two fingers right into your cunt, the stretch almost too much. Almost. But you don’t really notice because he buries his face between your lips, and any sassy remark comes out in a desperate cry.
He pulls away and gives you a warning look, head tilted. His free hand comes up to cover your mouth, thick fingers clamping down and digging into your cheek. It makes you moan, but it also muffles it, so it works out fine.
“If you want your turn, you gotta be quiet. Otherwise, I’ll just have mine and shut you up proper.”
You choke down the moan dredged up by the thought of his cock down your throat and make the saddest pleading eyes you can muster.
He rolls his, shaking his head, before he goes back to your neglected clit.
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You’re close, so close when you hear it. You pat Joel’s head, sitting up. “Was that the door?”
The shift is immediate. Three years in town has allowed Joel to relax somewhat, sometimes, but he slips back into it in an instant. He pulls back, brow furrowed, squinting like it’ll help him hear better.
It comes again, louder this time, insistent enough for him to pick up. A firm knocking.
There’s a pause, but Joel’s already on his feet, pulling his clothes back on. He tosses your shirt over as he ducks out of the doorway and you’re slipping it over your head when whoever is outside grows impatient.
Rapid, furious banging rattles the door, and you dart across the hall to shut the bedroom, but it’s too late.
Lulu starts wailing immediately, her little face scrunched up, nose wrinkling, and tears pouring out faster than a faucet. You scoop her up and soothe her, cradling her as she finds solace for her hurt feelings and empty stomach.
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Joel goes downstairs, partly to shut up the racket but mostly because the sound fills him with dread. When he opens the door, it flings wide, and the tirade begins immediately.
Ellie storms in, already yelling. “—could you? What the fuck is wrong with you? You won’t even let her come out for fuckin’ Christmas because she might see me?”
You’re going down the stairs as soon as you hear her voice, but she stops yelling when she sees you on the landing.
“It’s not his fault,” you say, face hot with frustration and raw hurt. You hate the way your eyes water.
“Like hell, it isn’t. Maria said you were going to come, that one of you might actually have the balls to tell me you had a fuckin’ baby, and—”
“And I decided not to go, Ellie. Joel wasn’t even home. He didn’t know.”
Lulu has started to cry again, distracted from nursing by your ire. You murmur apologies, kissing the little tuft of dark hair on her head, and try to coax her back to your breast.
Ellie’s eyes are wide, and feet planted, ratty sneakers dripping filthy snow across the floor. Her mouth hangs open as she takes in the tiny, ruddy creature who finally agreed to return to her meal.
“Hey, Ellie. We had a fuckin’ baby,” Joel says after the silence hangs for a minute too long.
The bark of laughter that bursts out of her looks like it hurts, but she can’t fight it. The tension dissolves into absurdity and then tears.
Ellie sits on the ground instead of the perfectly nice sofa to her left. You come down the stairs and sit beside her.
You look up at Joel, and he nods. You wish he’d come sit, but he’s too afraid to break the peace. “Would you like to hold your sister?” you ask Ellie, keeping your voice low and steady.
“Can I? I mean… what if I break her?”
“She’s pretty tough.” Lulu is done eating, just suckling for comfort, so you pry her off your breast and tug your shirt back up.
Joel takes her without thinking, leaning her against his shoulder to help her work out the air.
Once she gives a satisfactory belch, he thrusts her at Ellie, who’s startled enough to take her without thinking about it.
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You all hold very still. Except Lulu, who is blissfully unaware of the strife and coos up at her big sister. She bats a little hand at her face, smacking her nose in an attempt to grab on. Ellie laughs, and her smile, her perfect smile that you haven’t seen in a year, breaks out.
You can’t help it; you start crying. Ellie looks up in alarm, but Joel shakes his head, moving closer to rub your shoulder.
“It’s not you,” he says solemnly, “it’s just hard, after.” He gestures at the baby.
“It is you,” you say, and Joel scrubs a hand over his face with a soft groan. “It’s—I’m sorry, I just—”
Ellie’s looking like she might make a break for it. She tries to hand the baby back to Joel, who refuses.
You get ahold of yourself. “It’s not bad, Ellie. I’ve just been waiting for this since she was born.”
Ellie softens and then scowls. “Then you should have told me. You should have told me you were pregnant in the first place. I said you could talk to me.”
“No, I couldn’t,” and you pause as she shoots a dirty look at Joel. “No, not because of him. Because I would have done the same damn thing, so you may as well hate me too.”
“What?” She seems genuinely shocked, which you don’t have the patience for.
“I would do the same damn thing. If I had been there, there would have been nothin’ in the fuckin’ world keeping me from getting to you, Ellie. Nothing short of death. Not then, not now. I’d do it for her, too.”
The room is stifling, and Joel hasn’t even lit the hearth yet. Your breath comes out in little puffs, and every one of you has wet, devastated eyes. Even Lulu, who looks like she might be the first to break into tears.
Ellie looks down and sighs. “So, Lulu, huh?”
“Actually,” Joel says, and chances a step closer, squatting down. “It’s Luna. Luna Luann. Tommy’s just an idiot.”
Ellie’s a smart kid. You can see the moment it clicks—the way she looks up at Joel with something akin to hope. It fades quickly, but you know he saw it, too. His own staggering heart, heavy with love unspoken, is betrayed in the way he has to fight a smile, choke down the relief. Maybe, just maybe.
Maybe next year, you’ll get a tree.
thank you all so, so much.
*title from "Alone This Holiday" by The Used
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neytiriism · 1 year
Text
۰࿐·˚ ༘ 𓆛 YOU’RE HIS PEACE ۰࿐·˚ ༘ 𓆛
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featuring. neteyam + lo’ak (separate)
gn!na’vi!reader.
wc. 746
author’s note. I love avatar and I loved atwow so why not write something for my faves🤷🏾‍♀️<33 reblogs + feedback are appreciated!!
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NETEYAM
as the oldest, neteyam is always under so much pressure. the poor boy couldn’t catch a break. whether it be from looking after his younger siblings (mostly lo’ak) or living up to his father’s expectations, he always has some kind of weight on his shoulders. he’s meant to be the responsible one, the strong one, the leader but, he can’t always be that way. it’s impossible. he needs to be able to let loose and just be normal, even if it’s just for a little while. that’s why he seeks you out as much as he can, no matter where you are or what you’re doing.
you’re the only thing keeping him together. you’re like the calm in the middle of his storm. you see him. you see into him. you know his struggles and his pain so he doesn’t need to be this strong guy when he’s with you. he can let his guard down. you make neteyam feel safe and every time he’s with you feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest. he feels free.
when neteyam got back to the village, his first order of business was to find you. he had a particularly rough day dealing with his brother and he needed you to calm him down. he found you quickly, you were always easy for him to find. his eyes were always drawn to you no matter where you were.
“y/n!” he called as he ran up to you.
your ears perked up at the sound of his voice. “netey- oh!” you yelped.
neteyam had scooped you up in his arms, squeezing you around your waist as he spun you around. “i missed you.” he mumbled into your chest.
you smiled and patted his head. “i missed you too, nete. now put me down.”
neteyam lightly placed on the ground but his hands never left your hips. he pulled you in until your foreheads were touching and looked at you with loving eyes.
“what has gotten into you?” you asked. “i haven’t seen you this happy since you rode an ikran for the first time.”
neteyam smiled and squeezed your hips lightly. “I just love being with you.”
you leaned up to kiss his lips and in that moment he felt all of his stress melt away. he was at peace.
LO'AK
lo’ak is a problem child. he knows this. he’s the rebel, the troublemaker, the outcast. and his father of course doesn’t let him forget it. whether it be after a raid or even just getting into trouble with other na’vi, his father always lets him know how angry and disappointed he is in him. always telling him off and comparing him to his older brother, it feels like it’s never-ending. and there’s only so much lo’ak can handle before he wants to blow up at everyone. so when he starts to feel that way is when he goes to find you.
you were the only one that made him feel like he was good enough, the only one that made him feel like he belonged. you always uplifted him and encouraged him no matter what because you knew that he had a good heart. sometimes you didn’t even need to speak for him to feel better. you were his comfort, his home.
lo’ak stormed away from his family’s hut wanting no more than to be away from his father for a while. he was tired of the ridicule, he just couldn’t deal with it that day so he set out to find you.
it didn’t take him long to spot you under a tree near the beach, carving some new beads for your hair. you looked so calm, so happy, that’s what he needed right now.
“lo’ak!” you said happily. “how are you?”
he doesn’t say anything as he walks up to you. he only sits down next to you and pulls you into his lap, resting his head on your chest. your heartbeat soothes him, it brings him peace.
“lo’ak?” you ask.
no response. he only tightens his grip around your waist and nuzzles further into your chest.
“lo’ak what is wrong? did something happen?”
“don’t worry about that. just be here with me please.” he whispers.
you sigh and wrap your arms around him, softly running your fingers through his hair and down his back. he lets out a soft sigh of contentment at the sensation, wishing he could stay like this with you forever.
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© 2023 copyright. all rights reserved. @neytiriism.
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dbs-scans · 1 year
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Minamoto Supernatural Detective Agency — April Fool’s Day 2023
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April Fool’s! Nah, this one’s the real deal—here’s a translated archive of the event hosted on AidaIro’s twitter during April of 2023.
Day 1
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“Hello, you’ve reached the Minamoto Supernatural Detective Agency—” “Oh, it's just you, Kou. Yes, of course.” “All right, I'll see you at 8 PM.”
Click! Booop, booop....
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Day 2
Somewhere in the city lies an ultra-famous detective agency that boasts a terrifying case-solving rate...
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[Teru] “Welcome, I've been expecting you.” “I look tired, you say? Haha, I've been working on a big case that came in yesterday.” “But I have plans to go on break tomorrow, and I'm used to pulling all-nighters, so don't worry about me.” “You reporters are just as busy, right?”
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“I've collected the info pertaining to the Ryokan Case over there.” “Huh? You don't know where I mean? Sorry, I've been so busy that I haven't had a chance to organize everything.” “All my other case files are scattered around... but I won't mind if you search through them for it.”
Various items have been scattered throughout the detective agency. What interests you is the...
POLL:
Old Flier
Strange Magazine
Dirtied Diary ✅
Left-on TV
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It's a diary with a cute design. It's terribly dirty, as if someone had dropped it somewhere. You can see a footprint left behind where somebody stepped on it.
Everyday events have been written inside with neat handwriting: “The potted flowers we planted bloomed today.” “Went out with a friend.” “I spotted a cute cat.”
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...But the diary entries abruptly cut off, and a message written in another person's hand-writing has been left behind: “Go Away.”
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[Teru] “Ahh, that's unrelated to the ryokan.” “A client asked me to locate the diary of someone precious to them.” “I did find it, but as you can see... her work environment was rather poor.” “She set her sights on a new career path, and left to do field research, but I'm not sure where...”
――Knock Knock! “Hm?” “Looks like somebody's here. Is it another job request...?”
[Akane] “Oh, there's a guest here. Hello.” “I came to pick up something I left behind before I leave! I'm going on a trip with my childhood friend!” “A vacation to the hot springs, all by ourselves... I can't squander this. I've finally made it...” “Enjoy working on your day off, Chief! See ya!”
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[Teru] “A hot springs vacation with his childhood friend, huh...” “Oh, that was one of our staff members. It seems he's going to be taking some time off, as well.”
Now, where should I check next?
POLL:
Old Flier
Strange Magazine ✅
Left-on TV
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A mysterious magazine titled Monthly MO has been left here. There’s a bookmark inside. A special report on cryptids...?
[Teru] “Reports of cryptids at the ryokan are almost never-ending.” “If you go there, try seeing if you can catch one. You might earn some extra pocket money if you do.” “Haha, I'm just kidding, of course.”
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Now, what’s next? 🐈The investigation continues tomorrow at 8PM🐈
POLL:
Old Flier
Left-on TV
Cassette Tape ✅
Day 3
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It's an old cassette tape. I'll try playing it. ...It's a man recounting how he was spirited away as a child and wandered into a mysterious ryokan in the mountains. He sounds oddly happy about the experience.
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“...and that was how I returned to human civilization.” “I'll never forget the girl who helped me to escape from there. Never ever~!”
“She told me ‘you must never come back here again,’ but it's my dream to return one day and be reunited with her.” “If it meant being with a beauty like her, then I’d do anything—I’d even become a cat...!!!”
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[Teru] “To be attracted to someone that isn't even human? What a freak.” “I can't relate at all.”
Now, what should I check next?
POLL:
Old Flier
Left-on TV ✅
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The 12 o'clock news is on. It appears that the children of the leaders of the East and West yakuza organizations have gone to dinner together. Rumor has it that they're considering an arranged marriage to unite the criminal underworld.
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“Now this is just plain dumb. A political marriage, in this day 'n age?”
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“Wait, you don't want to get married?” “Huh?”
[Teru] “Wow, they'll make a news report on just about anything.” “I'll change the channel~”
Now, what’s next? 🐈The investigation continues tomorrow at 8PM🐈
POLL:
Old Flier
Old Newspaper Clipping ✅
Day 4
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It's a newspaper clipping from 50 years ago. During a national tour, a popular circus troupe had their tent burst into flames in the middle of the night and burn to the ground.
Officially, the cause of the fire is unknown, but on that night, two small figures were spotted fleeing from the scene of the crime. However, there was only one child registered with the circus troupe at the time—a single animal handler, who went missing after the incident. The child was known for doting on his pet black cat.
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[Teru] “Rumor has it there's someone at the ryokan who looks exactly like the child who went missing, completely unchanged over the years.” “I wonder what that means...?”
Now all that's left is the old flier.
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There's a tattered, yellowed flier lying around—a notice for a lost cat. It appears the cat went missing over ten years ago...
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[Teru] “What a big cat. Cute, isn't she?” “They said she was a strange cat who would dance on nights of the full moon.” “Apparently they never found her... but lately, I've heard reports that a cat with similar characteristics was spotted near the ryokan.”
I've finished surveying the results of the agency's investigation. Now, for the final step, I'll ask for information concerning the person I'm looking for. 🐈 The final investigation begins tomorrow at 8 PM 🐈 
Day 5
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This is what the person I'm looking for left behind. I've brought it here with me.
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[Teru] “About that coworker of yours who disappeared, the photographer...” “So far we haven't found any concrete proof that kid is staying at the ryokan.” “It's possible he might have disappeared of his own free will...”
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That's what the guys at work all said. That he ran out on us 'cause the job’s too hard. But...
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He'd never go off and leave his camera behind. Something must have happened to him out there...
[Teru] “I see. In that case, you should trust your intuition.” “Even if there's no evidence to support it, there's still a chance he could be there.”
“...And with that, I believe we’ve gone through everything that my investigation turned up.” “So what's your next move? There isn’t much left to do except actually going to the ryokan itself.” “If you hire me, I can tag along and...”
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[Teru] “Oh, you're going alone? Since you don't want to bother me when I'm on vacation?” “But you know, they'll probably be less suspicious if we go together... Have you already got a ticket?” “Oh... You're so responsible, Kou. Your big brother is very proud of you.” “Okay, see you. Be careful out there.”
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[Teru] “......” “A trip to the hot springs, huh?” “Not like I've got anything better to do. Maybe I’ll go, too.”
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📺⚡
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BZzT zzzZzZT......
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🐈
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"Human society brings endless pain and suffering~♪" "The youth of today with nowhere to belong feel nothing but frustration~♪"
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"Let the hot spring's waters wash your troubles away~♪"
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"And let your bellies be satisfied by our tasty food~♪"
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"So come on down—" "To the Bakeneko Ryokan Hanako-tei!" 🐈 The End 🐈
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kiyolovesart23 · 6 months
Text
Sweet tooth
Where some genshin men have suddenly gotten a sweet tooth… or is it because a certain someone is working at the bakery near them… hm…
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Al haitham
Al haitham usually don’t care for sweets or sugary goodness (stupid), either ways now that he was grand sage, he didn’t have time to think about these useless things, he’d much rather focus on his work and his books, however once he went to run some errands and collei (yes her) happened to ask him to get sweets for nilous big celebration party later, he couldn’t say no to her now come on ( tighnari will kill him if he did)
So when he entered the bakery and saw you, looking so beautiful while.. working the counter..? He figured you worked there so he decided that now he had a sweet tooth
All just to see your beautiful smile everyday
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Diluc
Occasionally Diluc didn’t mind indulging in sweets once in a while, especially if it’s some special occasion but bro is literally batman ( no I am)
He sometimes gets too caught up in his work to go and eat sweets regularly, so he doesn’t really eat much, ( bro is ripped and hot ugh) however, HOWEVER, there are exceptions after all
When a sweet blonde hair ish looking cute girl with pyro vision who calls him weird asked him to get sweets for her since master jean wouldn’t let her ( master jean is a bitch, jk ily jean, don’t ruin my 50/50) diluc obviously takes his chance to redeem himself and not be called weird, so he goes to a good bakery and get the requested sweets
When he sees you working behind the counter he falls head over heels, love at first sight, there was just.. something about you that made his heart beat out of his chest, obviously now it was his life purpose to come visit you and the bakery regularly
He can’t say no to you and you’re baked sweets whenever you give him some,
He just can’t say no to you, you’ve stolen his heart after all;)
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Ayato
If you thought this dude had a sweet tooth, no he had a traumatising taste preference, thoma would know, plus being the commissioner he really can’t catch a break ( poor baby) it’s like he’s practically glued in his office
Ayaka and thoma are super worried about him and his health, after all no matter how strong he is, everyone needs to go out and touch some grass in a while;) ( yes us too genshin players) so while it takes the two of them a lot of time to convince ayato to go out, ayaka has an idea, she asks him to go get some sakura mochi for her with her puppy dog eyes, he can’t say no to her and it’s a good excuse to touch grass take a walk and so he does
And boy when he enters the bakery and sees you his heart melts, for some reason you have that effect on him, the way you smile and greet him and show him around the bakery at his request, your voice is only background as he finds himself listening to in your beauty, he thinks to himself what a wonderful idea ayaka has given him and that let him to you
Now he won’t let go, if you asked he’s willing to give you his life
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Zhongli
Zhongli is a mixed person to be honest (bro already has a bakery wym) he won’t mind eating the most finest of sweets even tho he’s broke asf ( Childe’s wallet is crying) and yet he happens to find himself in a simple bakery run by you smitten by your beauty
It all started when Childe gave him some more and left for a mission, that made zhongli realise that he has to plan efficiently and not waste a lot, and he saw your bakery on the way home and spent some time thinking to himself if he should actually go in.. once he did, he immediately realised it was an amazing choice, the way your hair fluttered as you moved and the way your eyes sparkled as you heard the bell when the door opens and the way you were so friendly with him, it made him feel a different way.. something he hasn’t felt in a while, it made him feel warm and fuzzy
Your laugh gave him joy and a new found purpose to now have a sweet tooth
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servalisms · 6 days
Note
Sev I've been having a lot of thoughts about Rahu x Milf!Reader these last few days (you've seriously gotten me addicted) and I'm just having so many thoughts that I need to express to you.
First off, I'm a firm believer that, yes, Rahu is the one full-on panicking once Milf!Readers water breaks. Like girl had a whole list of the things she needs to grab before getting you to the hospital, and it's all neatly packed and already to go, but she completely forgets about it or forgets where it is instantly. I imagine you're just standing off to the side, the bag in hand, and a hand on your stomach, acting like you aren't currently in labor. Poor girl is feeling so dumb when she finally notices you and the bag, then proceeds to take it from you finally as well as your car keys before you both leave to the hospital in silence (she's embarrassed and it's so cute).
Also, Rahu with a lactation kink!?!? I'm sorry, give me a moment, I think my horniness has just risen tenfold. She's such a needy and whiny puppy for your milk, and she's probably latched onto your nipples more often than your guy's baby is (she can be very possessive over your tits). I'm sure if she had it her way, she would be latched onto them all day, 24/7. Forget school or work or anything, she wants Mommy's milk.
I have more thoughts, but I thought I'd just share these two and not overwhelm you (considering your backlog of stuff, which btw, make sure to take breaks and don't force yourself to write). Anyway, it's 1 in the morning where I am, and I desperately need sleep, haha.
SINS IT IS BED O’CLOCK YOU BEST BE SLEEPING ?? 🔫🔫🔫
that being said 👀👀👀 girlfailure rahu SO TRUE like active combat situations? no problem. someone coming at her with a knife? cheap shit. the mother of her child going into labor? EXTREME PANIK 😭😭😭 you’re squeezing her hand while in labor and SHE is squeezing right back because she’s stressed out of her mind, more than you are LOL
cw. lactation kink
but yeah rahu and lactation kink goes CRAZYYY like she’s become even more puppy than before, if that’s even possible skdhdkskdkdk poor reader’s tits can’t catch a break LMAO after the baby is fed she’ll be sitting nearby giving you the most puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen and once you give her the go ahead i swear this woman will be leaping over tables and furniture to bury her face in your chest 😤😤😤
also on that possessive of reader’s tits note… a student once saw reader on campus and in the presence of both reader’s son and rahu said “damn she’s got a nice rack” and instead of rs throwing hands immediately he (and several other friends) has to hold rahu back from absolutely mauling the other guy. rahu is puppy for reader but for anyone else ?? she’s a got damn doberman and she’s NOT afraid to bite as a warning
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cegantheayugipi · 1 year
Text
"I Aced the Fatui Typewriter Exam" (Childe x Reader)
A Childe Enemies to Lovers Smut Oneshot
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Link to the Artist
Summary: Your sparring partner, Childe, ended up breaking your arm in your most recent fight... now, this wouldn't be an issue if you weren't an author who desperately needed to finish a manuscript by tomorrow... However, you come up with a creative but ambitious solution that seems to work a little too well, and not in the way you want...
Word Count: 10.0k
WARNINGS: MINORS DNI!!! BIG SMUT BELOW THE CUT!!
Tags include: hate sex, childe having very many disgusting kinks, violence, injury, waterworks
“I’m sorry.” You choked for a moment as you found your voice, “I have to WHAT?!”
Your exclamation rang through Bubu Pharmacy as you gawked at the poor Pharmacist, your voice so loud that any passerby outside could hear.
“You have to rest your arm for at least a week.” Baizhu shook his head. “Your Ulna is fractured, and it will not heal right if you keep treating your body like you have nine lives. I strongly suggest you stop your sparring sessions with that Harbinger you despise so dearly.”
“That fucking ASSHOLE!” You cursed, seething in place as Baizhu finished wrapping up your arm with bandages.
“Now, be quiet. There are children here, and I don’t like you using curses around them.” Baizhu spoke sternly yet smoothly, flashing you a smile. The two of you had grown close over the years, especially since your knack for danger ended you up at this very pharmacy all too often, so neither of you took each others’ antics to heart.
“But Baizhu,” you groaned, “I have a manuscript to send off tomorrow! Lady Guuji is going to have my head if I’m late again!”
“There is no way you can write or type with your dominant hand broken,” Baizhu responded flatly. “Perhaps, next time you will reevaluate the priority of your sparring sessions, since it seems like every time you have one, you end up in my care.”
“Baizhu, I’m serious! What do I do about this deadline?!” You groaned.
“Well, if it were me, I’d try to find a proxy who can write for you.” Baizhu shrugged as he handed you a small parcel of medicine for you to take.
“Baizhu, you know what kind of literature I write, I can’t just…” You trailed off for a moment as a brilliant idea came to you.
“Actually, you’re a fucking genius. I love you.” 
You stood up and immediately stalked towards the door.
“Don’t forget to take your medicine!” Baizhu called after you. 
Now that you were finally gone, the Pharmacist let out a worried sigh.
“The broken lady is always too noisy.” Qiqi peeked her head around the corner of the countertop, where she had been hiding from you this entire time.
“Yes, she is.” Baizhu sighed.
“What does fucking asshole mean?”
The curses coming from the small child’s mouth shocked Baizhu.
“QIQI!” he exclaimed, his eyes going wide. “That is not a word you can say!”
“Fucking asshole…”
“NO, QIQI!”
~~~
“Miss L/N, Sir Tartaglia is busy at the moment. I can pass on a message to him if it’s urgent.” Ekaterina spoke as the two of you stood in the lobby of Northland Bank.
“Urgent, my ass! That rat bastard owes me, his work can wait!” You seethed, storming around the poor receptionist as you made your own way to his office. Somehow, you remembered the way to his office from the odd couple of times you had visited him at work. 
“W-wait, he’s really behind on paperwork! Please let him catch up!” Ekaterina shouted after you, but you paid no mind as you continued down the hall.
The corridors were winding, dimly lit, and confusing, but you confidently swung open a door, knowing that this was certainly Childe’s office.
“*insert Fatui voice line here*”
You blinked, realizing you had opened the door to a janitor’s closet, and that a Fatui Anemoboxer was pinning an Agent to the wall inside. The two froze, turning their heads towards you, and you quickly slammed the door shut.
“I suggest you lock the door, idiots!” You shouted angrily.
So, that wasn’t Childe’s office. Which one was his, again?
You squinted as you stared down the corridor, realizing that Childe’s office was actually across from the closet from the plaque on the door with the name “Tartaglia” carved into it.
WIth absolutely zero respect for the Harbinger who broke your arm, you kicked the door open to see the ginger sitting at his desk surrounded by stack upon stack of papers. He seemed unsurprised that you had barged in so violently, considering the door slamming and shouting that happened only seconds prior.
“You sure know how to make an entrance.” He spoke flatly. “Are you paying for my door repair?”
“Do your fingers work?”
“Huh?” Childe seemed confused.
“I’m asking you. Can you use all ten fingers?”
“Depends how you want me to use them.” He smirked cheekily, leaning back in his chair.
“Ew, you disgusting bastard. I’m asking if you can type.” You stormed towards his desk, tempted to swipe all his stacks of papers onto the floor. “Unless your fingers are as dumb as that empty head of yours.”
“I got a top score on the Fatui typewriter exam, I’ll have you know.” Childe crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “I bet I can type faster than you.”
“Hah.” You laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”
“Oh yeah?” Childe smirked. “I could do it right now.”
“You could?” You smirked. “I’ll hold you to it.”
“It’s a contest, then.” Childe spoke confidently.
“Actually, that’s exactly what I was thinking.” You smirked.
“Huh?” the ginger became confused again.
“I have a manuscript due tomorrow and SOMEONE has rendered me unable to type or write. So, you’re coming with me.”
“W-wait, I have a lot of paperwork to do-”
“Your paperwork can wait one more day. I have a deadline and a publisher who is demanding I start sending out drafts on time.”
You walked around the desk, grabbing Childe’s arm with your unbroken one and dragging him out of his chair. The ginger stumbled behind you, unsure about what you had in store for him.
“Morax on a stick, your arms are scrawny as hell.” You scoffed, continuing to drag him behind you.
“These arms can still beat you in a fight.” Childe retorted.
“I’d watch my mouth if I was you.” Rolling your eyes, you dragged Childe through the lobby of Northland Bank towards the main entrance.
“Miss L/N, Sir Tartaglia, wait!” Ekaterina exclaimed as she tried to call after you. However, the two of you were already on your way out the door.
~~~
“So… What do I do again?” Childe spoke, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. You had made him sit down at your desk, in front of your typewriter, a page half-filled with the guide already positioned at the next empty line on the page. You stood behind the Harbinger, staring down at his messy head of hair as you pointed to the machine.
“I dictate, you type.” You spoke bluntly. “If you mess up even one letter, I’ll break your nose.” 
“Okay…” Childe suddenly felt extremely nervous. He had last done this test when he was eighteen, which was several years ago. However, he knew he couldn’t give up here, since he had to carry through with his bet to prevent him from seeming like a coward.
“Alright? The page is already half done. Just write what I say.”
“Got it…” Childe trailed off, positioning his hands over the keys.
“You never realized how the Knight felt for you until-”
“Wait, why is it in second person?” Childe questioned.
“Shut up and type.” You responded. “I’ll start again.”
“O-okay.”
“You never realized how the Knight felt for you until you felt his soft embrace, period. You thought he was merely a noble man who was courteous to everyone, comma, but this was more than just that, period. This was desire, period.”
Childe’s hands flew across the keys, typing out the sentence with speed and accuracy that actually surprised you. When Childe reached the end of the line his hand flew up and fluidly swiped the carriage return lever to start a new line without any hesitation. Only a couple of seconds after you had finished speaking, the sentence was written out in perfect spelling and punctuation.
“Wow, you can actually type pretty fast.”
“I’m assuming you don’t want that sentence included.”
“Yup.” Mildly impressed, you continued to dictate the story.
“...as your lips daintily interlocked with his, comma, you could feel the tender passion the Knight radiated, period. His arms gently caressed your back and pulled you closer to him, period.”
Childe didn’t know how to feel about typing this sort of story out for you, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to win the competition and prove he was better at typing than you. So, he ignored what you were saying and instead focused on getting the letters typed onto the page.
“His hands moved dexterously as he unlaced your bodice-”
“Uhm.” Childe cut in, his hands pausing over the keys.
“Hm?” You raised an eyebrow, wondering if this kind of story would be too much for Childe to type calmly.
“How do you spell dexterously?”
You rolled your eyes, realizing it was a mere spelling issue.
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
“I think that’s a couple too many letters for one word.” Childe responded cheekily.
“D-E-X-T-E-R-O-U-S-L-Y” You spelled out quickly, and Childe immediately finished the rest of the sentence afterwards.
“Okay, continue.” He responded, still determined to win at whatever this competition was turning into.
A couple minutes later, and the story had progressed even further.
“You stared up at his toned body, comma, admiring the way his muscles flexed as he moved, period. Line break.”
Childe grew uneasy as he finished the sentence and set a new line on the typewriter, the satisfying “clunk” of the metal sliding into place acting as a signal for you to continue.
“Open quote. Are you willing to submit fully to me, to give me everything, question mark, close quote.”
Childe shifted in his seat, realizing exactly where this story was going as his hands continued to fly over the keys and type perfect words. He tried to block out how the language you used seemed to only grow more and more lewd.
“You gasped as you felt him breach you, comma, laying kisses over you as he penetrated you with his manhood, period.”
Childe hoped the blush on his cheeks wasn’t obvious to you.
“How can you publish something like this knowing that people are going to read it?” Childe murmured.
“No talking, typewriter. And I’m no idiot. I use a pen name.”
You switched back to dictating your story as it progressed.
“You couldn’t help the moans that escaped your mouth as his cock pounded into your sopping cunt-”
Childe choked, his hands faltering over the keys in response to what you had just said.
“Do I need to say it again? You couldn’t help the moans tha-”
“Are you getting off to the fact that you’re making me type this?” Childe questioned in disbelief.
“Hah. You wish.” You stepped around the chair, standing next to where the Harbinger sat. “You shouldn’t be the one to talk when you’re hard yourself.”
“Wh-”
Childe froze in place as you lifted up your foot and placed it down on the outline of his dick that strained against his pants. Your slipper dug into the fabric, and Childe had to use every ounce of strength in his body to suppress a groan from the painful pleasure.
“Now, continue.” You instructed, “He grabbed the underside of your thighs, comma, fingers digging into your soft flesh, comma, pinning down your legs so he could pound into you at a better angle, period.”
Childe’s fingers moved a lot slower than before, now that your foot was digging painfully into his erection.
“Your eyes rolled back in your head as you felt him reach deeper and deeper inside of you, comma, pushing you closer and closer to your-”
You stopped as you realized Childe had finally made a mistake.
“You fucking rat bastard!” You exclaimed, pushing the chair backwards. “You made a mistake!”
“I’m sorry, it’s hard to pay attention to what I’m typing when you’re stepping on my-”
It’s hard to resist the temptation to break your damn nose!”
“Oh yeah? I can always break your other arm.”
“Then I’d just use my legs.”
You pushed the chair over, making Childe fall backwards onto the floor. Your foot remained pressed against his crotch, but Childe quickly solved the issue by pulling you down to the ground on top of him. You caught yourself on your hands and knees – which made you end up straddling his body.
“How about you stop writing such disgusting literature, you dirty minded freak.”
“Says the one who’s hard as a rock!”
“I’d bet my position as Eleventh Harbinger that you’re wet right now.” Childe smirked, slipping one hand down your stomach to the front of your waistband.
“Don’t touch me, you disgusting bastard.” You spat, grabbing both of his wrists and pinning them on either side of his head, ignoring the sharp pain that went down your broken arm.
Childe merely responded by rutting his hips upward, forcing you to sharply inhale as his erection pressed against your clothed but sensitive pussy. You tried your hardest to ignore the jolt of pleasure his movement sent through your body as you leaned back up, sitting down aggressively and forcing Childe’s hips back onto the floor – and painfully crushing his erection in the process.
Childe felt like he was going insane; his dick ached so badly, his lower back hurt where you forced it to dig into the back of your chair, and you stared down at him with abject hatred as you pinned his arms down…
This should be considered sexual torture – so why did he enjoy it?
“You’re gonna get up and finish the story.” You spat as you seethed with a deadly mixture of anger and arousal.
“I propose we take a break for now.”
“A break? Hah.” You shook your head at the disobedient Harbinger.  “The smut has barely started.”
“Calling it smut, huh?” Childe smirked. “Just as disgusting as the word sounds.”
“You’re the disgusting one here.” You scoffed. “I can feel your dick twitching in your pants.”
“I’m not the only one, that’s for sure.” Childe smirked. “How do you even come up with stories like that?”
“I won’t reveal my methods to anyone. I have a bit of a monopoly on the market for these kinds of novels, which is why Yae is trying to squeeze every last ounce of talent from me.”
“Talent?” Childe scoffed. “I’d call it having a dirty mind.”
“I can show you dirty.” You smirked.
“Not if I show you first.” Childe gave you a devilish grin as he bucked his hips, throwing you off of him and flipping you over to pin you down on the ground. He held your good hand down with one of his, leaving your broken arm alone as his other hand roamed down your torso.
“Ugh, why does everything have to be a competition with you and your stupid-” Your words fell short as his hand slipped into your pants, fingers invading your underwear and raking along your lower lips.
“Ngh- Stop it!” You writhed beneath the ginger, trying to suppress the pleasure you felt from being violated by him.
“As I expected.” Childe smirked. “You’re disgustingly wet.
“Shut up, you ass- hnn-” Your eyes pinched together as Childe slipped two fingers into you without warning, stretching your entrance with the sudden intrusion.
“Wow, look at you taking in my fingers like a needy whore.”
“Stop it! You’re hurting m-” You gasped as he curled his fingers inside of you, the pads of his fingertips pressing into the all-too sensitive spot at your core. You blinked your eyes hard, trying to prevent them from rolling back in your head; you refused to show him that he was driving you insane as he began to pump his fingers in and out of you.
“Look at you, all worked up from only two fingers.” Childe teased.
“Grr, shut up and take them out of me!” You shouted, Finally giving in and using your broken arm again.
You swung your arm up, hand curled into a fist, to lay a weak and off-balance punch to the Harbinger’s nose.
“Gah!” Childe exclaimed, recoiling as he pulled his fingers out of you and leaned backward. He quickly recovered, returning to his teasing tone. “You’re gonna have to hit me harder than that if you wanna break my nose-”
Since Childe was leaning back, you finally had the room to raise one leg and kick hm in the face. He careened backwards, landing on his back across the room.
“Ngh!”
“If I can’t use my arms, I’ll just use my legs.” You smirked as you climbed to your feet.
“Hahhh, good one.” Childe groaned in pain. “Guess I’ll have to break those too.”
“Not if I break yours first.” You retorted, walking over and resting a knee on his dick.
“AAH!” Childe exclaimed, his eyes going wide from the intense pain of your weight on his erection. He tried to throw you off of him, but you quickly used your other leg to reach up and pin down one arm while using your good arm to pin down the other.
“I can’t believe how much you underestimate me.” You scoffed, staring down at the ginger with displeasure.
“The only thing I underestimated was how damn dirty you are.” Childe retorted, but you reached up with your broken arm to squeeze the column of his neck. You had just enough grip strength to cut off his airway, making his face turn red.
At first, Childe seemed to let you choke him, but as the seconds ticked by and it seemed more and more likely that you weren’t planning to let him breathe, his eyes went wide as he began to panic. He started to struggle harder against you, his movements becoming more and more desperate, but you maintained the upper hand since it was too painful for him to fight against the pressure on his erection.
Childe was about to resort to more aggressive methods as you finally relaxed your grip, allowing him to gasp as he finally took in air.
“You bitch.” Childe choked out, staring at you with hatred.
“Actually, I prefer it when you don’t speak.” You replied, quickly tightening your hand around his neck again.
Almost immediately, Childe began to struggle again, terrified that you weren’t planning on stopping anytime soon. His mouth opened as if to speak, but no sound emerged.
He’d have to actually fight to breathe.
Summoning the arcane power he reserved for only the direst of moments in battle, something in his pocket began to glow purple, as sparks of Electro began to arc across his body. He immediately channeled the energy through you in a short burst, the power too finicky to avoid causing serious harm.
You recoiled with a shrill scream as you felt the painful currents run down your limbs. The purple arcs of electricity danced across your skin, setting your nerves on fire. Childe wasted no time in overpowering you as soon as your hand left his neck. He grabbed your waist, bringing you down to the ground as he rolled on top of you and pressed your back into the hard floorboards.
“Unfair!” You gasped, head dizzy from the sudden change in position and skin tingling from the electrocution.
“Oh, please.” The ginger smirked as he reached one hand down, tearing your pants open and then ripping your underwear clean off of you to give him access to your core.
“Ngh, these clothes are expensive, you asshole!” You exclaimed furiously, kicking your legs out in a futile attempt to get him to move – he was hovering too close over your body, giving you no room for you to kick him off of you.
“Maybe you should have thought about that before getting me to write your porn.” Childe sneered, fingers brushing over your soaked folds. He let out a small spark of electro directly onto your clit, the jolt of electricity making your back arch from both pain and pleasure.
“Haahhh, stop!” You writhed, going insane from how much he was teasing you.
“Your soaking pussy says otherwise.” Childe smirked as he began to crawl backwards, his hands moving down to hold onto your thighs.
“That’s not what it-” you were cut off as he forced your legs open, diving his face into your wet heat. “Hey!”
You gasped as you felt his nose press against your overly-sensitive clit, his tongue pushing into your swollen entrance and sending pleasure shooting up your abdomen.
You hated the way he consistently crossed every single one of your boundaries – you hated the way he always managed to find a way to drive you insane… but what you hated the most was the fact you liked it.
You suppress a moan, trying to move your thighs to push him away. However, they were growing shaky, a part of you beginning to fall into the pleasure.
“Ngh, stop…” You reached down with your good hand and grabbed a fistful of his hair, trying to yank him away from you.
Childe merely grunted, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pressed his tongue further into you. You blinked away the pleasure that clouded your vision as he nipped and sucked at your sensitive lips. The wet heat of his mouth threatened to overwhelm you, but you persisted.
“Get off of me, you bastard…” You groaned, but your grip on his hair began to weaken as your arm grew shaky.
Childe raised his head slowly, his gaze filled with lust as he stared up at your face. You noticed the strings of slick that clung to his mouth and chin, a wave of pleasure suddenly flashing in your stomach at the sight – why was it so hot?
“You even taste like a slut,” Childe spoke lowly, crawling forwards to mash his lips into yours.
Your eyes widened as his lips meshed with yours. You whined into the kiss, hating the way his lips felt so good. You fought against him for a moment, tearing at his lips with your teeth, but a hand went up to your jaw in an attempt to force it open. Your jaw was strong, and you resisted for a moment, but as his grip became more and more painful you finally relented and let his tongue in. The salty sweet musk and slippery texture of your own arousal filled your mouth, filling you with a lethal mixture of pleasure and indignation at Childe’s blatant invasion of your boundaries. He pulled back for a moment, breaking away from your messy lips to spit directly into your mouth. You were caught off guard by the salacious mixture of your wetness and his saliva that suddenly splattered onto your lips.
“Hey- mmmph!” Your complaint was muffled by his lips on yours.
You groaned against the kiss, furious at the damned Harbinger for spitting in your mouth and driving you crazy, but also craving more. You tried to bite down on his lips, to draw blood in any way, but he was faster than you – he broke away from the kiss before you could hurt him.
“Asshole.”
Childe smirked.
“Please. You like it.”
The Harbinger rolled his hips forward, pressing against your wet heat, teasing your oh-so sensitive lips with his clothed erection. The friction against your bare skin made you groan, but you weren’t about to let him get away with humiliating you.
Reaching your good arm up, you gave a harsh tug to his coat, snapping off the clasps in the front and revealing his red shirt underneath.
“Excuse me!” Childe complained, watching the metal clasps clatter to the ground, pushing himself up onto his knees as he looked down at his broken coat.
“You ruined my clothes, it’s only fair I ruin yours.” You snarled, sitting up and grabbing onto his chest harness. With an aggressive twist, you brought him down to the floor again, quickly shuffling to pin his torso down with one knee while you slid your hand down his chest.
“Now that’s fair enou- aah!”
The ginger was interrupted by your hand harshly tugging at his belt, undoing the buckle and yanking the waistband down harshly. With the sound of his Hydro vision clattering to the floor and seams ripping, you had freed his painfully hard cock at the cost of his pants.
Childe let out something halfway between a grunt and a whine as his member slapped against his stomach. The tip gleamed with precum, evidence of just how turned on he had been.
“You’ve been making a mess in your pants, I see.” You smirked, fingers ghosting over the length of his dick as your thumb wiped across the wet droplet that had collected on his tip.
“You didn’t have to tear my clothes to feel my dick.” Childe spoke teasingly, somehow still smug despite being humiliated and groped like this.
You didn’t respond; you merely drew your hand back, giving a harsh slap to his stiff member. Childe gasped as his erection slapped against his stomach, his lungs quivering as his increasingly sensitive cock bounced back upright, throbbing with pleasure despite the pain you were causing him.
Childe moved his arms in an attempt to push himself up, but you quickly repositioned your leg to kick him back down to the ground.
“No.” You spoke sternly, staring down at the Harbinger with distaste. You began to crawl over him, keeping your body weight on his chest, silently ordering him to remain still. “You break my arm before an important deadline, then when you agree to help me with it, you get oh so flustered like a little schoolgirl and can’t keep your dick under control.”
Crawling further upwards, you slide your knees off his shoulders, settling them on either side of his head. Childe was so turned on as he stared up at your bare pussy above him, even if he realized there was a chance for him to throw you off-balance and pin you back down he wouldn’t have wanted to.
“Then, you have the audacity to call me disgusting. In my own home, for my own profession.” You sneered down at the Harbinger who simply laid there. Childe wasn’t sure if you’d sit on his face – although, a carnal part inside of him truly hoped you would.
“If you’d like me to be more respectful-” Childe’s quip was cut off by your stern order.
“Open your mouth.”
“What?”
Childe’s question went unanswered as a hot stream of liquid poured directly into his mouth. He sputtered for a second at the sudden bombardment, the golden fluid steaming as it quickly flooded his mouth. He thought it was water for a moment, until he registered the slightly bitter taste…
You were pissing on him.
Childe’s eyes squeezed shut as his lips sputtered, mouth quickly filled with urine, streaming down the sides of his mouth and slipping down the back of his throat. He choked at the musky taste, unable to help himself from swallowing the warm liquid.
The Harbinger didn’t know why he was suddenly so much more turned on than before. Childe’s dick throbbed almost uncontrollably at the way you used his mouth like a toilet; was he truly turned on by such an act of degradation?
He shuddered as he felt your urine trickle down the sides of his neck and into his hair. As the hot stream from above turned into more of a trickle, you lowered yourself onto Childe’s mouth, threatening to suffocate him with your pussy.
“Mmmh-” Childe groaned, his head trapped beneath your body. You were essentially sealing his mouth shut, forcing him to swallow everything that was in his mouth at the moment.
“I bet you like being put in your place like this, you filthy slut.” You spat, rolling your hips as you ground your pussy further into Childe’s mouth. 
Childe was in heaven and hell at the same time. He didn’t understand how you could torture him and pleasure him at the same time, and he simply couldn’t cope with the way he hated you but at the same time desired you so intensely.
The Harbinger let out a choked whine at the way you ground into him, his shaky exhale from his nose tickling your clit. His eyes were wide and unfocused, and you smirked down at his expressions as you drove him crazy. Childe’s eyebrows pinched together as you slightly squeezed his head with your knees. Another roll of your hips and his eyes rolled back in his head, a guttural groan escaping his mouth.
Despite the ferocious desire that roared in his gut, Childe felt bare without his vision; almost instinctively, he reached towards it, knowing he couldn’t feel secure with it safely beside him.
You saw a hand slide across the floor from the corner of your eye, moving towards the Hydro vision that had slid away from Childe’s body… You quickly reached over and snatched it up before he could.
“Tsk tsk…” You hummed, holding the glowing vision in the air above him. “You can’t just use your powers to get out of this.”
Childe couldn’t help his hands from flying up to your hips, fingers digging into the soft skin of your ass as he pulled you down on his mouth harder. You let out a breathy gasp as he began to suck on your sensitive clit, lips nipping at your tender bud – it was as if he were saying he didn’t want to get out of the situation… It seemed like he was actually enjoying it.
You couldn’t withhold the shudder that traveled through your body as Childe’s tongue teased your entrance. What started out as simple degradation began to feel more and more like you were pleasing him as a loud slurp escaped Childe’s lips, his teeth grazing over your clit and making you squirm.
“What are you- ahn…” Your sentence fell short as Childe’s hands gripped your hips tighter, holding you down on his face. The teasing of his tongue against your swollen lips sent pleasure shooting through your stomach, something you would never admit to the cocky Harbinger.
A muffled groan emerged from Childe’s throat as he felt your entrance tighten around his tongue. He pulled your hips down harder, ignoring the very real possibility of crushing his face with your pussy.
“Hahh…” You murmured breathily, staring down at his face. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, you filthy bastard- hnn…”
Your sentences were interrupted by the humiliating moans that you couldn’t hold back – you didn’t understand how Childe, someone you hated, could make you feel this aroused. No longer able to resist the temptation, you dropped his vision to reach down and dig your fingers into his wet and messy hair. You paid no attention to the broken arm that throbbed painfully with each movement you made. You began to rock your hips against his face harder, chasing the pleasure he was giving you… A familiar sensation began to build in your stomach as you realized he might actually make you cum like this.
One of Childe’s hands left your ass to slip under the hem of your shirt, traveling up to one of your breasts. HIs fingers groped your soft skin hungrily, wrapping around one nipple, pinching and rolling it with his thumb and forefinger.
You didn’t care how much you hated him anymore; you didn’t care that your attempt to humiliate and degrade him backfired in such a way. The noises his mouth made against your lower lips, the fingers teasing your breasts, the iron grip on your ass was driving you insane with pleasure.
“Aah, fuck!” You exclaimed, Childe’s voracious ministrations pushing you closer and closer to climax. Your cursing only drove him to pump in and out of your entrance harder as he sucked, making your thighs squeeze his head even tighter as the coil grew tighter and tighter in your stomach. 
Childe could tell you were nearing climax; as he felt his head get crushed by your thighs, your entrance began to squeeze around his tongue and your breathing became far more erratic and labored. So, he decided to get payback; right as you seemed you were on the precipice of orgasm, he withdrew his tongue from you and instead bit down on your clit.
You let out a shrill scream at the deadly combination of pain and pleasure, Childe holding your clit hostage as you rode his face through your orgasm. Your body shook with the waves of pleasure that washed over you, undercut by the overstimulation the Harbinger was causing.
Childe quickly let go of you as you collapsed face-down onto the floor above his head; you were completely overwhelmed.
As you rested on the floor, Childe let out a small chuckle.
“I think you enjoyed it too.”
You let out a groan, responding “I hate you.”
In the throes of your orgasm, you forgot you had dropped Childe’s vision, allowing the Harbinger ample time to shuffle out from under you and pick it up.
“You know,” Childe climbed up onto his knees, gripping his Hydro vision tightly. “I had no clue I’d enjoy something like that. But coming from you, I wouldn’t expect anything less filthy.”
He leaned over your bare pussy, letting a string of spit fall from his mouth, directly landing onto your tender folds.
“S-sick bastard.” You muttered, pussy quivering as the disgusting mixture of saliva, cum, and urine fell from Childe’s mouth and onto you. 
Childe didn’t respond; he merely stood up, summoning Hydro to spray his face and hair with, in a somewhat half-hearted attempt to clean himself up after being pissed on by you. He shook his head, flinging the water from his hair and onto the floor.
“You’re getting the floor all wet, you dirty pig.” You complained, slowly picking yourself off of the ground.
“You literally just pissed all over it.” Childe retorted.
“Yeah. It’s MY floor.” You rolled your eyes.
“You seriously can’t be calling me the dirty one here.” Childe responded, frustrated.
You had barely climbed to your feet when Childe was suddenly on top of you again. There was a sharp pain in both shoulders as he knocked you down to your knees, pressing your chest and face into the floor. He held your wrists behind your back so you couldn’t try to push yourself back up. In this position, your ass was in the air, your shoulders digging into the hard ground.
“What the fuck?” You complained, dizzy from being shoved down so fast. “Get your hands off of me, asshole!” 
You gasped as you felt Childe’s erection brush against the underside of your thigh. One of his hands ghosted across your ass, fingers spreading the sensitive lips of your pussy.
“Look at you, so wet over a little face riding.” Childe sneered.
“You spat on me down there, you little shit! Of course it’s wet!” You groaned, trying to ignore the heat that flared between your legs as Childe’s fingers tugged at your swollen lips.
“Oh, I should have guessed you like being spit on.” 
“That’s not what I meant, you disgusting-” Your words fell short at the feeling of Childe’s cock prodding into your soaked entrance. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing with that pathetic little dick?”
“Pathetic?” You could hear the smirk from Childe’s voice alone. “We’ll see if you call it pathetic after I’m done with you.”
Almost immediately, he thrust his hips – hard. They collided with your ass as he speared into you, forcing his cock all the way into you with no warning. You let out a wail at the initial burst of pain that was immediately followed by the intense pleasure of being filled to the brim. The tip of his cock reached dangerously deep into you, stretching out the very depths of your pussy, creating a bulge in your stomach that neither of you could see from your current positions.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Childe chirped, reveling in his invasion of your hot and wet pussy as he held his hips flush against your ass. 
“Fuck- y-you!” Your voice came out far more broken and pathetic than you had intended.
“That’s bold of you to say, when I’m the one balls deep inside you.”  Childe responded slyly, rolling his hips, forcing a whimper out of you as his tip dragged across your sensitive walls. “Are you reconsidering your statement earlier?”
“N-no, you sick fuck.” You whined, unable to keep your voice calm in this situation.
Childe pulled out of you slowly, and you realized just how empty you felt without him all the way inside of you. Biting back the whimper that threatened to escape your lips, you held still and waited for what you knew would come next.
The Harbinger wasted no time in setting a brutal pace of thrusts that wracked your body.
“Haahh, ngh-” Only garbled moans and gasps escaped your mouth as Childe pounded into you relentlessly. His cock was somehow able to hit that oh-so sensitive spot deep inside of you over and over almost painfully hard, as if his goal were to knock you out from pleasure. Each of his thrusts forced more and more of your slick to ooze out of your pussy, turning each slap of Childe’s hips against your ass wetter and wetter.
Your shoulders ached from the force of each thrust that pushed you into the ground, back arching further as Childe reached deeper and deeper into you. Each time his dick reached deep inside of you, driving you crazy with pleasure.
Childe slowed his movements, giving you reprieve only to tease you even more.
“I see you’re not complaining much anymore, girlie.” He laughed as his hips rolled into you at a much slower pace, still intensely pleasuring you while no longer driving you insane like before.
“F-fuck you.” You managed to rasp out, your lungs still quivering.
“Is that all you can manage to say now?” Childe teased, continuing his languid rolling, sliding his cock slowly in and out of your oozing pussy.
“No- nghh~” Your response was cut off by a sudden sharp thrust into you, Childe’s hands going to your hips in order to pull you closer to him so he could reach deeper inside of you. 
“Such a filthy, filthy girl.” Childe’s breathing barely seemed labored at all despite the intense snapping of his hips against your ass. “Writing porn, tearing off my clothes, pissing in my mouth…”
Squelching noises mixed in with Childe’s filthy murmurs of degradation as slick spilled out of you with each thrust. He knew you were only getting more turned on by his dirty talk as he felt your wetness begin to drip down his legs and onto the floor in thick, slippery strings.
Childe rutted into the most sensitive spot inside of you with such force that tears began to stream down your face. Your clothes were ragged and torn, hair messy from being fucked into the ground, body quivering from the intense pleasure that almost bordered on pain. Your cheek was pressed into the floor, so you could barely see Childe above you out of the corner of one eye. You couldn’t see the expression on his face, or the way his abs flexed with each smack of his hips, or the veins that bulged from his arms due to the iron grip he had on your body.
It was too soon since your last orgasm for another one to be building up in your stomach; but you couldn’t help it. You had never been filled up so much before, fucked so vigorously before, treated like such a filthy slut before and you loved it. As you shook from the power of Childe’s every thrust, stars began to dance across your vision, your eyes rolling back in your head as you fell fully into the incredible sensation.
“So soon, and you’re already crying?” Childe commented as he stared down at your pathetically trembling body and your tear-stained cheeks.
“P-please,” you blubbered, squeezing your eyes shut. “Please, it’s too much, ‘s too much, too much….” 
Your cries only drove Childe to fuck you harder, threatening to bruise your ass each time his hips collided with it. Your wails turned into screams, your body unable to handle such intense stimulation as you careened over the edge of your second orgasm.
As the dam broke and the unstoppable tidal wave of pleasure crashed across your body, you lost all control – not like you had much in the first place, with Childe’s grip on your hips and the inflexible position he had put you in. You let out a shrill cry as you convulsed around Childe, each tremor of your walls against his ever-hard cock threatening overstimulation.
Childe inhaled sharply; it felt like you were trying to milk the cum out of him. He brought his thrusts down to a slow and steady pump, not to give you some rest after a brutal orgasm, but because he wanted to keep going for longer.
As soon as the pleasure began to ebb away and your pussy no longer twitched in such an intense manner, Childe picked his brutal pace back up without a second thought.
“No!” You wailed, still coming down from your climax as Childe pummeled into you. His girth stretched out your gummy cavern with each thrust, making your entire body quake, driving you insane with overstimulation.
“Come on, I thought you called my cock pathetic.” Childe sneered. “Where did all that spunk go? Don’t tell me you lost it all after you finally had a taste of it.”
He slowed down his thrusts just enough for you to regain some of your wits.
“Hnng… sick bastard…” Your words slurred together, your incoherence only turning Childe on even more.
Picking his thrusts back up, Childe decided that he wouldn’t be finishing anytime soon. He reveled in your whimpers and whines as he bullied his way into you over and over.
You felt like you were being ruined from the inside out. Minutes seemed to go by without Childe relenting at all, his rhythm still just as fast and harsh as before. Tears continued to stream down your face and blur your vision.
When you first began your regular sparring sessions with the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger, you thought he was simply an immature battle-hungry grunt for the Cryo Archon. Each interaction with him always ended up as a competition, frustrating you further and further until the only thing that made you feel better was beating him in a fight. If someone had told you that you’d end up pinned to the ground, having your brains fucked out by him, you would have called them absolutely insane.
But right here, right now, new realizations emerged. Childe wasn’t only fucking you like there was no tomorrow… He was fucking you better than you ever thought anyone could. Was it his endurance and strength as a formidable fighter? Was it the intense hatred the two of you felt for each other? You assumed it must be a combination of both, as your mind drifted off into heaven from the pure ecstasy of your sex.
You were snapped out of your daze by Childe’s sudden withdrawal from you. His cock pulled out of your entrance with a wet ‘pop’, the sudden emptiness and lack of stimulation making you whimper. His hands quickly moved to push you over onto your back, his body now hovering above yours. You stared up at his lust-filled eyes, watching Childe as he drank in your tear-stained cheeks and fucked-out expression.
Childe didn’t want this to end just yet; he grabbed the underside of your legs, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs as he pressed your knees against your chest.
“Ngh… hey…” You whimpered, squirming beneath his firm grip as he lined back up with your entrance.
Childe entered you slowly this time, reveling in the way your eyes rolled back in your head as he stretched you out once more. You let out a whine as he bottomed out, filling you up once again with his stiff and swollen cock.
“Ahh, much better.” Childe grinned, “Now I can see how much I’m ruining you.”
“No…” You murmured, staring up at his smug freckled face. Childe wasted no time in setting his pace once again, forcing a startled cry from your lips.
From this angle, it felt like he was even bigger… Your cunt squelched around him as he pounded over and over into you, each thrust making you bounce from the impact. 
“I can’t wait to stuff you full of cum… ngh…” Childe groaned, his words intermixed with the lewd slaps that echoed through your study.
“No-wait, Childe, no!” You exclaimed, suddenly extremely terrified. The last thing you wanted was for that filthy Harbinger to impregnate you.
“I’d love to fuck you full of children… hahhh…” Childe seemed to be losing his composure as he pinned you down and continued to slam into you. 
You tried to fight against his grip, against the force of his relentless pounding, but you were pinned down in too compromising of a position. The pleasure wracked your body and stole any control away with each thrust.
“Nghh… but not yet.” Childe muttered, his movements slowing. You whined at the lack of stimulation, some part of you hoping he would pick his pace back up, even if it risked the chance of pregnancy. You’d never admit it to anyone, not even yourself, that Childe’s desire to cum deep inside of you was incredibly hot.
“Bastard…” You grumbled, realizing this was your chance to take back control while he was too focused on preserving his stamina.
You dug both hands into the floor beside you, ignoring the sharp pain in your broken arm, deciding to kick both legs against Childe’s chest as hard as you could.
The Harbinger was too engrossed in his own pleasure to react in time. He was thrown off balance, toppling backwards onto the floor as you scrambled to climb on top of him.
“I didn’t get to choose when I came,” You grunted, positioning your hips above Childe’s erection that was messy with slick, “so you don’t get to choose when you do.”
You settled down onto his dick a little too quickly thanks to the copious volume of your own cum that coated you both. Childe let out a groan from the sudden penetration, his hands flying up to your waist. However, you immediately grabbed his wrists, gathering them into your good hand to pin them against his chest.
“You’ve been groping me all afternoon, and I don’t like that at all.” You sneered, beginning to bounce on your heels, sliding yourself up and down his length yourself. “No touching.”
Childe let out something you could only describe as a whimper. Your movements stopped for a moment, completely surprised by the noise that escaped his lips.
“What was that?” You questioned.
“Please, I wanna move.” Childe began to roll his hips beneath you, too eager for friction against his aching member. You could feel the way it throbbed inside of you, and knew he was close.
“No. Stop talking.” You grunted, your broken arm going up to his neck, once again squeezing his throat enough to cut off his supply of air. You ignored the sharp pain in your arms as you reveled in his euphoric expression of both pain and pleasure.
Childe’s dick twitched rapidly inside you, and you realized this was simply driving him further to the precipice of climax. You began to bounce again, harder this time, watching the way his mouth fell open and his eyes rolled back in his head. He was too caught up in the moment to fight against your grip on his wrists, to try to break your hand away from his neck. He was so close, he didn’t want to stop you at all.
“You look so pathetic, I love it.” You sneered. Childe’s hips moved up to meet yours with each bounce, the Harbinger chasing his orgasm despite the burn in his lungs from lack of air.
The wet slapping of skin-on-skin grew louder and louder as you both moved more and more fervently. You relied on every ounce of remaining strength to maintain your rhythm as you bounced up and down. All you needed to do was to keep going like this until you knew he was about to cum.
The Harbinger began to grow dizzy from oxygen deprivation, his vision blurring. As his rhythm suddenly faltered, hips stuttering, you knew this meant he was close.
Childe let out a startled cry as you pulled yourself off of him, your hand finally letting go of his neck to instead wrap around his cock. He coughed and gasped for air, his chest shaking as he was finally able to breathe again.
Once again, you ignored the intense pain in your broken arm as you pumped your hand up and down his cock vigorously, wanting nothing more than to drive him completely insane.
“Stop, Y/N- haah!” Childe trembled beneath your grip, his member swelling as he was finally pushed to climax against his will.
Thick ropes of white burst from him with force, splattering onto your chest before you could move to cover his tip with your hand. As time went on, more and more of his ejaculation gathered in your palm, surprising you with the sheer volume he was unloading.
“You’re cumming so much it’s disgusting.”
“Haaah…” Childe let out a breathy, half-pained sigh, “That could have been inside you.”
Despite being overwhelmed with pleasure, Childe still somehow managed to utter a comeback. You gritted your teeth angrily, fingers slipping across the tip of his oh-so-sensitive dick to gather the last drops of cum.
“I think I’d prefer it inside you.”
Climbing up, you shoved your messy fingers into his mouth, marveling at how easily he let them past his lips. You slipped them down further, pushing deeper until you could feel his throat convulse around them as he choked.
“Swallow it.” You commanded as he gagged, his tongue sliding across your fingers.
After a few moments, you pulled them out of his mouth, and he let out a groan.
“Good boy.” You sneered, wiping the mixture of ejaculation and saliva across his lips and chin. 
“You’re filthy.” Childe murmured, his voice small compared to his previously confident tone.
Your body grew heavier and heavier as you came down from the high, and you could only mumble a half-coherent response.
“Says you.” 
And with that, your legs finally gave out, causing you to collapse on top of Childe.
At first, the Harbinger was surprised with the way you suddenly let go of his wrists and fell face-down onto his chest. However, he began to realize just how intense and unhinged your sex had been, and understood why you’d be so exhausted.
He slowly pulled his arms out from under your body, eliciting a groan of pain from you.
“Ngh… everything hurts…” You mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut. 
Childe carefully sat up, realizing his entire body hurt too. He carefully untangled his limbs from yours, resting you on the floor as he reached for his Hydro vision that had been discarded a couple of feet away.
He shuffled over to you, realizing that you weren’t only bruised and scraped from the intense hate sex, but you also had several scars that littered what skin he could see beneath your tattered clothing. They were all at various stages of healing, some more faded than others. There was a particularly gruesome one that cut across your stomach, the deep pink mark starkly contrasting the rest of your soft skin. He couldn’t help but reach down and trace the curve of the scar, his fingers ghosting over the toughened tissue.
“Who…” Childe muttered, “Who did all of this to you?”
Sighing, you turned to glare at the Harbinger.
“Most of them are actually from you.” 
Childe ignored the pang of guilt in his chest at the realization that he was the one responsible for hurting you.
“Hah.” He chuckled, “I guess this is proof that I’m a better fighter than you.”
“No, it just proves you’re a fucking asshole.” You groaned. 
Childe didn’t respond; instead, the deep blue glow of Hydro began to fill the room.
You were startled by the way he suddenly activated his vision, and tried to jump into action as you thought he was about to attack you. 
“Hey, hold still.” Childe rested a hand on your shoulder. “This is harder when you move.”
“What are you…” You began, but the sudden lack of pain answered for you. Your mouth dropped open as you began to regain energy, completely taken aback as you learned that Childe had a completely new skill. 
As the blue glow dissipated, you immediately sat straight up and glared at the Harbinger.
“You can HEAL?!” You exclaimed, staring daggers at the ginger.
“Look, I’m really not that good at it, so-”
“Why didn’t you tell me this one of the other hundred times you’ve injured me?!” You shouted, wobbling as you climbed to your feet. “I bet you enjoyed watching me limp home after each sparring match!”
“I told you, I’m not all that confident at it, and healing without proper training can do more harm than good.” Childe responded. “However, watching you limp around after kicking my ass actually made me feel a little better.”
“You ass!” You exclaimed, winding back a fist to lay a punch on the Harbinger. However, you were quickly swept off of your feet, and found yourself in his arms instead. “Hey!”
“Alright, we’re going to see a doctor.”
“What? You just healed me, I’m fine!” You complained, squirming.
“Your arm looks like it’s even more broken than it was this morning.” Childe shook his head. “You’re going to the doctor.”
“Not like this!” 
“Of course, of course, I’m getting us some clothes first.” Childe sighed. “Now which way is your closet?”
“It’s in my bedroom at the top of the stairs.” You mumbled, defeated. 
~~~
“So, how is she?”
“You know, you don’t have to be in the same room while I examine Miss Y/N.” Baizhu couldn’t help his venomous tone as he glared at the Harbinger sitting beside you.
“Uhm, yeah, I agree.” You responded.
“You’ve somehow managed to make the fracture even worse.” Baizhu paused to let out an exasperated sigh. “I’ve re-dressed the arm, because somehow you’ve managed to destroy the bandages in a single day, and I recommend a strict ban on whatever activities are going on between the two of you.”
“Excuse me?” You questioned. “I don’t even have the manuscript done yet!”
“Well, I suggest you politely request an extension to your deadline.” Baizhu spoke smoothly yet sternly, moving to his desk and scribbling down some illegible symbols in his prescription pad. “And I have a couple more medications for you to take, so I’ll help you out at the front counter.”
Baizhu sauntered out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He was far too fed up with the reckless endangerment of your own body.
You let out a sigh of defeat, hanging your head as you stood up from the examination table. You felt Childe’s hand ghost along the small of your back as you walked, as if he were trying to help you along or prevent you from falling. You rolled your eyes and swatted his arm away angrily.
“I can walk on my own, idiot.” You grumbled.
“Sorry,” Childe laughed awkwardly. “You’re kinda really injured, you know.”
“No thanks to you, asshole.” You rolled your eyes as you responded sarcastically. The two of you walked out of the examination room and towards the front counter of the pharmacy, where the very short Qiqi was waiting.
“Do you have a prescription?” She asked monotonically, her voice lethargic.
“It’s right here, Qiqi.” Baizhu smiled sweetly as he handed her several papers. 
“Okay.” Qiqi responded, turning around and rummaging through the drawers behind her. She pulled the correct medicines out, glancing up at Baizhu who gave her a nod of approval before standing up on her tip-toes to slide them across the counter.
“Thanks, Qiqi.” You responded, picking up the medicines.
“Payment please.” Qiqi looked down, as if she were thinking about something for a moment before looking back up, peering over the countertop at you. “16,750 Mora.”
“Oh.” You murmured, reaching into your pocket for your wallet.
“No, don’t worry about it.” Childe placed his hand over yours, instead tossing his own coin purse onto the counter.
“Excuse me.” Baizhu spoke. “Is there a reason you feel obligated to pay for miss Y/N’s medicine?”
“No, not at all.” Chide smiled. “I’m just being generous.” 
“Paying for someone else’s medical treatment implies guilt. Are you doing this as a way of apologizing for hurting her?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Childe tried to smile sweetly at the pharmacist, but his eye began to twitch.
“If you are, I suggest you use your words instead and save any generosity for a dinner date. Or a designer dress. Or a luxurious mansion, after everything you’ve put my dear Y/N through.” The hatred practically dripped from Baizhu’s words.
“Uhm, Baizhu, I think I’m alright.” You clutched the medicines. “I can pay for the medicine.”
“No, Childe is paying.” Baizhu smiled sweetly, a thin facade for the hatred he exuded.
“It’s my pleasure.” Childe smiled in response, just hoping to get the hell out of the pharmacy as soon as possible.
“Oh, I’m sure it is.” Baizhu snapped.
“I’ll take the payment, now.” Qiqi droned, opening up the coin purse, taking out the exact change. “Thank you for your patronage.”
“Actually, Baizhu.” You turned to face the green-haired Pharmacist, “Are you able to run Bubu without Qiqi here?”
“Uhm, technically yes, why do you ask?” He tilted his head to the side.
You immediately turned to face the small zombie behind the counter.
“Qiqi, would you like some coconut milk?”
~~~
“Sir Tartaglia, how is your paperwork going-”
Ekaterina opened the door to Childe’s office, but instead of the messy head of ginger hair she normally saw hunched over the desk, she saw a young purple-haired girl who could barely see over the desk.
“Sum total debt, six hundred thousand and fifty seven mora… Interest accrued, thirty seven thousand, two hundred and eighty mora… confirm the right amount…”
“Uhm, who are you?”
Qiqi paused her vigorous scribbling across the pages of paperwork, turning to face the shocked receptionist.
“Qiqi will finish all the papers, in exchange for Cocogoat milk.”
Ekaterina stood there, mouth hanging open, completely shocked.
“I see Master Tartaglia has found yet another way to weasel out of paperwork.” She huffed, turning around and closing the door behind her to give the small child some peace and quiet. “Now…” She hummed, “Just what is the young Master up to…?”
~~~
At the same time, you were standing back in your water-logged and somewhat destroyed study, standing behind Childe who sat at your desk, typing away.
“You ruined my clothes, comma, so it’s only fair that I ruin yours, period. You reached down and hooked your fingers around the knight’s undergarments, comma, tearing them away from his waist, period.”
Childe’s fingers paused, despite your lengthy dictation. He turned his head to stare up at you with a smirk.
“Are you by any chance, perhaps, gaining inspiration from what we did yesterday?”
His teasing tone was mildly infuriating. You dug your fingers into his messy hair, forcing his head to face the typewriter once again.
“Your job is to write what I dictate.” You spat. “If I have to repeat myself again, I’m going to choke you out.”
“You know, that actually sounds kinda hot.” Childe jested.
“I don’t know if it will be once you pass out.” You threatened, hand sliding down the back of his head to grip the sides of his neck.
“Alright, alright.” Childe shook his head, shivering. “I remember every word. Don’t worry.”
“Good.” You smiled, nodding. “I’ll continue, now.”
~~~
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