Since Luuk is colorblind, it would be a really cute idea to me if he was drawn to you by something on you which is constantly golden - which happens to be the color he can see.
Maybe it's your hair, some piece of jewellery, anything really. And he would constantly search for that tiny little spark in the crowd, his heart only at ease once he spots it.
The eight-year-old Segment was unlike any child you had ever met.
When you were in the Akademiya with Zandik, you had gathered bits and pieces from what he told you about his childhood to somewhat imagine what a little Zandik would look like. It was… difficult to envision, not because you couldn’t form a picture, but because the thought of him being hurt so deeply as a child hurt you too. But when you finally saw the slice of his child self in front of you, you quickly realized the reality was far more cruel than you could ever think of on your own.
His eyes were… empty. For someone so young, not even a glimmer of light could be seen within the redness. It would have comforted you more to see even anger or sadness, but there seemed to be nothing of the sort. And yet, it did not deter you from attempting to befriend him, despite Eight’s initial lack of interest.
He was the child, and yet you were the one wandering after him like a lost kid. The Segment would just stare at you before excusing himself. Perhaps he was confused about why you were speaking to him in such an excited tone. Perhaps he did not know how to deal with it. All he knew was that the others had told him to treat you respectfully but not to bother you, and Eighteen specifically gave him a look every time you tried to usher him closer.
But in the end, a child was a child. A child would think and behave like one no matter how much they buried themselves, and that was also true for little Eight. You had noticed Eight frequently spent his spare time writing and doodling in his notebook, although he would always shut it if you got too close, obviously still guarded around you. At least he had gotten comfortable enough to let you stay in his room. Still, it was easy to piece together what he was doing in there. So, one day you slipped him a drawing of an Aranara you had drawn yourself.
Eight recognized the creature immediately, and you witnessed more emotion than you had seen before, with his eyes widening and mouth parting. He closed his notebook shut and tentatively reached to brush his small fingers against the drawing, and you pushed it closer to him encouragingly.
“Have you ever seen one like this? You know, there are the round ones and-”
“The ones that are skinny with long hats.” Before you could finish your sentence, Eight interrupted you. It was like a switch had been turned on.
“And then there are some with flowers on their heads-”
“And the ones with leaves on top.” It looked like he really was an expert on Aranara facts.
“You know a lot, don’t you?” You beamed at him with interest, and suddenly the child felt a bit shy. It was rare anyone took interest in him or anything he liked, but at the same time, knowing a lot had once gotten him in trouble a long time ago.
“I didn’t expect you could… be so detailed,” Eight said, changing the topic as he brought your doodle close to his face, examining the detail as his nose almost brushed it, in true childlike wonder that he always kept hidden.
“Well, in the Akademiya, you’re usually asked to sketch out your observations like wildlife or architecture, even potential machines and inventions, so I know a bit.” He only continued gazing at the messy Aranara. “You can keep it, if you like.” Eight glanced at you, slowly nodding as he finally set the paper down. He looked a bit more relaxed now.
“Now… would you mind if I see your drawings?” You pressed the tips of your fingers together, brightening with hope. Eight already guessed you had been itching to ask him that for a while. At first, he would have rejected you, but now he felt a bit more… comfortable.
The child Segment didn’t need to answer, only opening his notebook to the first page and leaving it there for you. You clasped your hands together with a resonant ‘thank you’ as you pulled a chair to sit next to him at his desk.
“Some Aranara have hats of different shapes and colors. Some of their hats cover their faces. Others have leaves drooping down instead of hats,” you read aloud from the journal. Each description was accompanied by a drawing. “Some also have bowties or carry around weapons. They’ve also picked up habits from humans, such as cooking or living in houses.”
For someone who didn’t seem to feel much, Eight watched you intently as you examined his notes. Maybe he subconsciously looked for approval. At the very least, you looked to be absorbed in his words, allowing him to feel a bit proud of himself.
“This is some really good research. Thank you for trusting me with it,” you said softly, hand reaching out to hold his, until you stopped midway and drew back. Perhaps it was best not to push things so quickly. “Though… I do think some of these sketches could use some color.”
“I would,” the boy nodded in agreement, “but I don’t have anything to color them with.” A spark of sadness flickered in your heart, knowing that he was chained to the mindset of a child and was not even allowed to indulge in it.
“Well, why don’t I get us some colored pencils and we can fill them in together? Adding a bit of color is sure to add some life, hmm?”
And so a few days later, you were once again sitting near Eight with his notebook open. You had made sure to order the most high-quality coloring supplies for little Eight. Even he could not hold back his excitement, observing them up close one by one and picking out the ones he’d use for the Aranaras. In all honesty, he was more focused on coloring than you, and seemed very intent on making sure everything was accurate… But you didn’t mind. You only gave some pointers here and there and answered his questions on whether the color he chose was good or not.
“Thank you,” Eight said eventually. He couldn’t remember the last time he expressed gratitude for something, because the only thing other people ever did was hurt him.
“Anything for you, sweet one.” He didn’t respond to the pet name, and you quickly worried you had overstepped, before Eight nodded and went back to coloring.
Perhaps if he had just had someone who supported him when he was young and took interest in him, things could have turned out differently.
—
One day, you had called Eight to the kitchen, and he was immediately greeted with a delicious smell.
“Oh, you’re right on time!” You called for him and ushered him closer. He took in the mess of the kitchen before he noticed what was making his mouth water. A tray of baklava sat there, sliced and ready to be served.
“You all still like to eat, don’t you? I thought I’d make something for all of your hard work.” You were busy cleaning with your back turned. “I invited you to have the first bite. Help yourself.”
He and the other Segments would go to the Fatui’s cafeteria, and although it was nice, it didn’t really have food from Sumeru. They would never bring up their dissatisfaction, however. But now, one of his favorite treats from his homeland sat in front of him. The older Segments might have lingered around you some more, but him? The child couldn’t help but want to dig in as soon as possible.
“Thank you.” Those words were starting to become familiar to him again. Eight’s fingers pinched a piece of the dessert and took a small bite before immediately devouring the whole thing. It was probably the best thing he’d ever tasted. He glanced at you before taking another piece, and another…
“Do you like them?” You finished cleaning the area and washing the tools as you made your way to the table. “It’s been a while since I made any so-” You paused when you noticed at least a third of the tray was gone, and the child had stuffed cheeks.
Eight blinked at you. You blinked back. You were at a loss for words before you burst out laughing at the sight.
“Y-You don’t need to eat that fast, you know. I can always make some more.” You grabbed a tissue and began wiping around his mouth. You remembered Zandik being a fast eater back in the Akademiya, but you didn’t know he could gobble stuff down this quick. Eight stiffened as you tenderly wiped off the crumbs and fussed over him, and though it felt weird, it wasn’t weird enough for him to push you away.
“Hmm… I guess I’ll portion the rest for the others. We can give Eighteen the least for being a big meanie. Hehe, don’t tell the others, alright?” Your little accomplice nodded, chewing the dessert slower, not only savoring the flavor but… your kindness too.
Eight had started to open himself up to you, slowly but surely.
—
Little Eight had begun to seek you out on his own, cling to your side, to grab onto your sleeve and look up at you with expectant eyes. With that, the boy had become oddly observant of you.
“You don’t look well,” he pointed out.
“Hm? Oh. I’m… I’m fine. Just a bit tired but-” Before you could finish, Eight grasped your clothes and led you over to sit down. Of course, you couldn’t refuse him. “Really, I don’t-” Eight pressed his small hand against your forehead.
“Your face is warm, and you’re sweating a bit. You should stay here. I’ll get one of the others and the medical record.” It was almost jarring to see a kid assess the situation with such calmness. Perhaps he already had experience with this from Regrator, though. Or maybe he just had to grow up quicker than other children.
“But… you don’t need to do all this. I can take care of myself…” He should just be allowed to be a child, you wanted to say. He shouldn’t have to be in this dreary lab with experiments of this nature.
“I want to.” Eight was surprised those words left his lips as easily as they did. He had thought he had become numb to the suffering of others. He knew something was wrong with him for that. But when he looked at you, it made him upset that you were in pain.
“… You’re very sweet. Thank you.” The others had told you that the child Segment had already lost his compassion, but every day, you learned that clearly wasn’t true.
—
The eight-year-old carried around his notebook like it was a lifeline, clutching it to his chest. If he had to put it down, he’d always make sure it was within his line of sight. You knew that his notes were important to him, but you couldn’t help but feel that there was something else to this behavior.
You found out the answer one day, when you were in Eight’s room. He was searching for his notebook in front of you when he opened his drawer to reveal a few copies of the same black notebook, before grabbing one of them.
All of the notebooks looked the same, so you had no idea he had multiple. But it didn’t strike you as unusual at first. You just assumed he had filled up that many notebooks with his ideas, and naturally, you wanted to see.
“Do you mind if I read these?” You pawed at the covers.
“You can, if you want. But you probably already read most of them.” That made you pause.
“What do you mean?”
“Those notebooks all contain the same content. I just wrote most of the important stuff in all of them.” So… he was making duplicates of the same thing?
“But why?”
“Sometimes I misplace them. And then sometimes one of the others throws it out.”
“Throw… throw them out?” You repeated, as if you were in disbelief, but Eight seemed to be unaffected.
“It’s mostly Eighteen that does that. But I don’t want to lose my ideas, so I just write them down in multiple places just in case.” Your jaw was left slack as Eight calmly flipped through his current notebook.
“A-And what does he say?”
“That it’s childish. Or a waste of time. Things like that.” He didn’t think about it when you didn’t respond, but before he knew it, you were up and pacing around the room. “What’s wrong?”
“He can’t do that to you!” You had never spoken to him this loudly, which took him off guard, and you recognized that and took a deep breath. “That… is just wrong. I will not let him do it again. I’m- I’m going to speak to him right now!” Eight realized that this was the first time he saw you truly frustrated, and it was on his behalf, too. You almost burst out the door before he called for you.
“Wait,” the child requested. Never one to ignore Eight, you listened. “You don’t need to do that.”
“Yes, I do. If I’m here, no one is doing that to you. Why, I might as well go and throw out his property and see how he likes it!” Eight felt a bit of warmth prick his face at your outspokenness. But he really didn’t want to start a fight with Eighteen, which would probably escalate to the others, with Thirty-Five telling them not to hinder his work, Forty-Five laughing, Sixty-Five being tired, and the original Zandik… what would he do?
“I’d prefer it if you stayed with me.” You opened your mouth and closed it again, expression softening.
“Well then… I guess me and Forty-Five will do something to get back at him in secret instead then.” You couldn’t help but give in to Eight, especially when he was learning to be so genuine with you. You sat on the edge of the bed with him and rubbed your hand on his back. However, you still looked troubled.
You thought back to the days you spent with the original Zandik back at the Akademiya. Eighteen was the only Segment you had a concrete understanding of, considering he was a replica of the one you knew so deeply when you were young. You had seen his bitterness firsthand, the desire for himself and his ideas to be acknowledged, only for it to never happen, sending him deeper into his resentment for the world. He would grip you, stubborn tears rolling down his face that he silently asked you to ignore. Perhaps if you had remained in the waking world, you could have done something, but…
“You know, um, Eight,” you began, and the Segment gave you his attention. “About Eighteen… I wouldn’t say he hates you. He just…” The child’s eyes bore into you as he watched you fumble for words. “I guess… He might be a little jealous of you.” That seemed to surprise the little boy.
“I don’t understand. There is nothing I have that he doesn’t.” Eight furrowed his brows, carefully thinking, and a part of you was flattered he was taking your opinion so seriously. “Eighteen has his own lab, office, equipment, proposals, funding, experiments… I don’t really have any of that.” Well, there had been proposals he had been drafting for Pantalone, some with your assistance, but he had yet to present any of them… Most of his duties included assisting the others with their tasks instead.
“Well, all of that is true but… Eighteen doesn’t have your mind.” Perhaps deep down, Eighteen wished he too could be a bit “childish.” Although Eight had clearly gone through something rough, he managed to retain something Eighteen could not. Could Eighteen ever find something and pursue it with pure wonder and excitement as a child could? He couldn’t. Instead, the older Segment was only trapped within the harsh reality of this world’s cruel rules and laws. But how could you explain that to a little boy?
“By which I mean, he doesn’t have the proper mind to appreciate your dear Aranara. And it’s a shame, because he wants to, but… can’t.” You tried to word it as best you could. “Of course, what he did is still wrong, but…” You trailed off, really not knowing what to say, but Eight only leaned into your embrace. He could understand that this was your attempt to make him feel better. Honestly, you had already done more than you knew, because Eighteen always seemed to be in a far better mood whenever you were around. And whether he liked it or not, the older Segment still stayed with him for a lot of things.
The original Zandik, the one who was fascinated with you more than any sort of research, had once told him that your warmth could fill an entire room. Obviously, that didn’t make sense in the literal way, so it was metaphorical. But only now did Eight understand what the older man had meant by that. Actually, now he understood why all the other Segments trailed after you, looking for attention.
You were truly a warm person.
His eyes flickered from you to the floor, and back to you again, as if he was making an important choice. Within the span of a few moments, the tiny Segment turned to fully embrace you, arms wrapping around your body, making you softly gasp. Without hesitation, you gently reciprocated and held his smaller body. Eight always did like when you patted the top of his head.
The child really liked you a lot. Maybe you could convince the others to let him take a trip to Sumeru? Or at least get one of his proposals approved? But for some reason, those things didn’t seem as much of a priority now, when compared to spending time with you.
...eating you out, they get their pleasure from it for different reasons.
Dottore is methodical and calculated. He has studied every anatomy textbook (and probably more than one human body), pored through every reference or light novel possible, and he takes your pleasure as seriously as he does everything else. And that's clear from the way he lavishes you in too-soft kisses, grazes of his teeth at the tender flesh of your inner thigh as you're splayed out on his bed.
Every stroke of his tongue against your folds, every suck of your clit, every single centimeter he slips his gloved finger into your entrance - it is all intended to bring you to the edge and keep you there as long as possible. You are the most lovely specimen to be studied, his pet project, his beloved; and to see you sobbing, thighs quaking in his iron grip, frantically trying to grind your hips against his slick-covered face for an iota of friction after being denied orgasm after orgasm while he chuckles and coos over what a desperate little thing you are...for someone like the Outcast, it warms his heart as much as it hardens his cock.
You are the Doctor's beloved; the one who reminds him of that scrap of humanity he has left. And the way you sing his name (his real name, Zandik, the one he's only heard from your lips since centuries ago) when he finally helps the wave of your orgasm crest its shore...it is tangible proof that he is, in spite of everything, still worthy of love in return.
He will never tell you how you make him feel, preferring to show you instead and knowing you are intelligent enough to make the inference.
Pantalone is different. He is the richest man in all of Teyvat; he can purchase whatever he wants, sell whatever he doesn't, and his wealth and power are evidence that he has risen to the highest of heights without a lick of help from the gods. Money is a catalyst that can bring him that which he desires.
You, however...money could never buy the way you ride his face into oblivion. It could never buy the iron grip of your fingers in his dark locks in a futile effort to keep him in place whilst he teases your clit. It could never buy the rasp in your voice as you cry out his name, 'Lone, please, begging for more, more, more - and Pantalone is greedy. His title of Regrator knows no bounds, and the way he veritably devours you makes that fact quite clear.
He does not know how to navigate a relationship that is not transactional. You snort and roll your eyes at his attempts to adorn you with priceless jewelry and furs; you scoff at his offers of lavish gifts and fine wine, opting for a quiet night in his quarters snuggled into his lap. But the sound of you losing control, at his doing no less...that, Pantalone knows. That, Pantalone can give you - and he will continue to give it to you, over and over and over, until your legs are jelly and his glasses (which he inevitably must leave on to make out the perfect part of your dry lips, the flutter of your lashes, the furrow of your brow in the throes of ecstasy...) are fogged.
You are there to be spoiled, nothing less, and Pantalone will spoil you into eternity.
Rerir has you lying on your back, facing him. His hands are gripping both your legs, pushing them to your chest, restraining them from kicking out of pleasure. His cock, filling you up.
You sobbed as he continued his inhuman pace, tears streaming down from your flushed cheeks, your lip glistening. How long have you two been going…? Honestly, you don’t know. The only thing you knew was that his cock had been thrusting in you nonstop. You could hear his groans and curses coming out of his mouth.
You don’t know how, but he was able to speed up even more, making you see stars in your vision.
"O-Oh Gods…!"
You felt his large hand clamped over your face, fingers digging into your jaw and cheek, palm smothering your mouth. You feel a shiver run down your spine when you see his crimson eye on you, face covered with black wrappings.
"There are no Gods here, human—only I….Now—"
You let out a silent moan, your mouth forming into an O as you felt his cock hitting your spot over and over again. His hand squeezes your throat, leaving little room to breathe. His palm slaps your ass so hard that it feels like he is gonna leave a mark.
"Say. My. Name"
Drool spilled from the side of your mouth “M’sooorrryyy Rerirrrrr…! Haaahh…! S’sorry so....sorrrryyy!…mmmnnghh…!” Your nails dug into his back, scratching it.
“That’s right…Apologise for screaming those fools' names—fuck! Instead of me…haaahh…shit!” You kept apologising again and again. You couldn’t tell from the black wrappings, but you swore you could see him smirking.
note: Is this my first smut fic? Yes, yes it is. Is it my first ever smut fic? Yes, it is. so please don't judge me 🥺
During dangerous moments, the strong wolf mode is on: he steps in front of you, shielding you with himself and his cane, his voice is low and commanding, his gaze is intense, as if he's about to devour anything/anyone who dares to hurt you.
But the moment, the threat is gone, and you thank him with a sweet smile and "My hero," he instantly flushes.
“Hero is… excessive. I was merely doing my job,” he’ll say, pulling the brim of his hat over his eyes, trying to act cool (actually, hiding his ugraceful, flustered self from you).
"Those words have really touched the detective's heart, so that he can't even look at the person who said them to him."
"Hush you! I've already been robbed of most of my dignity!"
Later, at the agency, he will replay your words in his head for hours.
Note: this might be a bit ooc, as this is merely how I interpret certain personality traits, backgrounds, etc. and the corresponding actions and thoughts.
Also, this is my first time posting on here ^^ I hope you enjoy it and I’d love to hear what you think!
Phainon
Phainon thinks that his crush on you is a well-kept secret. Emphasis on ‘thinks’, because for all the skills in his repertoire, keeping his affections for you discreet is not one of them.
Phainon is probably the sweetest guy ever. He is the type to remember your every word and take note of all the minute details in your features.
He has about two dozen of silly trinkets at home simply because they reminded him of you in a way that makes absolutely no sense to anyone else.
When he finds something funny, the first thing he does is look at you and see if you laugh as well.
Whenever he finds an excuse to hug you (which is strangely often), it lasts a little too long to be casual. Phainon generally initiates small acts of body contact almost always.
“Many boys will bring you flowers. But some day you'll meet a boy who will learn your favourite flower, your favourite song, your favourite sweet. And even if he is too poor to give you any of them, it won't matter because be will have taken the time to know you as no one else does.” THIS. This is Phainon (Read Six of Crows btw).
Boothill
Boothill tries to keep you at arm’s length. The dude is thoroughly traumatized and a small part of him is terrified that just as everyone else he’d held dear, you will slip through his fingers and turn to ashes as well.
Whenever you’re in the same room, he will keep close, talk to you a little softer than with everyone else, but as soon as it’s not necessary for him to stick around anymore, he’ll be nowhere to be found.
A part of him longs to keep you close, to shield you from harm and never leave your sight, while the other part of him wants to forget about you simply for the sake of your safety.
Still, if someone looks close enough, they would see him somewhere near you almost always, hiding in the shadows and at a coincidentally convenient distance to shoot someone down who looks at you a little too suspiciously.
Despite that voice in his head telling him to stay away, when you are searching for him, he’ll let you find him.
In other words, it takes a lot of work to get Boothill to the point where he accepts his feelings and even more to get him to stop worrying too much.
Dan-Heng
Dan-Heng is very subtle about his crush. It’s hard to tell whether he’s simply friendly or madly in love. If you know what to look for though, it will become pretty obvious.
Usually, Dan-Heng doesn’t talk too much but with you, he’s wrecking his brain for facts about whatever interests you at the moment that you would surely find intriguing.
He doesn’t want to be a show-off but he does want to impress you with his knowledge.
Dan-Heng is a yearner when it comes down to it. On a daily basis, it’s hard to tell but he would wait thousands of years for you (as we know 👀)
He is the definition of “there is nothing of equal value to me.” (Read OUABH guys).
But most importantly, he lends you his precious books. Everyone knows what’s going on in that instance because letting people use the databank? No problem. But touching the very limited, very old collection of books he treasures like a limb? Never. No one is allowed to do that but himself and now you.
Aventurine
Aventurine is the type to spoil you rotten, it’s not even funny anymore. When you eye something in a shop for a second too long, his spidey-senses tingle and he sweeps the item to the check-out, buying that and ten more of the same kind before you can blink. He’d say it’s the least he could do as ‘a friend’.
He would send you boxes of fine clothes and accessories, finding excuses as to why you definitely need them.
Aventurine would be a pain, actually. Because whenever you would address the fact that he seemed to spoil you about ten times more than anyone else, he would laugh it off and joke about it, calling it silly.
He text you a l o t. Whenever something pops up in his mind, he learns about something intriguing, or he’s simply bored, he’ll go ahead and text you about it. His co-workers kind of hate you because he is always texting in meetings and excuses himself early whenever he wants to take you out to go shopping again.
Whenever he travels, he asks you if you want to come along because he’s sure you’d love to see the places. Again, he would find a way to explain it in a way that made just enough sense to be passing as a platonic favor.
Blade
Similar as with Boothill, Blade would try to keep his distance from you in fear of losing control of the mara and causing you harm.
To be fair, it took ages for him to realize that the annoying buzzing in his heart wasn’t caused by some still-healing wound from where he was (yet again) pierced through the chest with a spear, but instead feelings. Like, actual romantic feelings.
He would be overly sensitive when someone talks about you, staring them down and daring them to say something stupid. It was painstakingly obvious that he did not take well to hearing anything negative directed your way.
He asked Kafka to wipe you from his memory once (to protect you from himself most of all) but it took all but three days until he remembered you again because everything on the streets, every person and building and flower, sparked some kind of memory of you.
A dead giveaway that he has feelings for you is that he keeps the tokens you gave him, keeping something with him at all times because it helps to ground him whenever he feels the mara starting to spike agin.
worried rerir that keeps you safe from his insanity, that leaves you for so long so you don't see him baring his fangs at others.
worried rerir that holds you close whenever he could, his abyssal arms and hands wrapping around your thighs to make sure you don't leave him — he can never be too cautious.
worried rerir that never held your hand, always too worried that he might do something he doesn't want. to pull you too harsh, to scare you by his grip, to horrify you by his true nature.
worried rerir that considered himself no longer human, seeing you and the way you act, and seeing himself — every part of him drenched in blood, whether his own, or others.
worried rerir that seemed more human by his mindset than his actions — allowing himself to be contaminated by the abyss, getting so stuck up on the past that he forgot that tholindis was never the end of his heartbeat — it was him ending it by himself.
worried rerir that loved you more than the one he thought the world was lightless without — because you knew him. fully. you knew the rächer of solnari, but you still loved rerir.
blade is a cold and ruthless man. everyone knows this, including you— his lover, of course. despite how he usually is, he can be surprisingly gentle with you. doing little things such as placing his hand on your waist when you’re out together, letting you hold his hand (albeit, a little reluctantly) and lets you do his hair!
and he’s just as gentle during intimacy. but he can be rough, if you ask him to be.
he’s really not that aggressive when he’s like this, the only times you really see him go crazy is when he lets the mara take over. other than that, he’s perfect in your eyes.
but you never expected him to be so... needy when he really wants something. and that something right now is a baby.
“you’ll let me breed you, won’t you, [name]?” blade grunts into your ear as he pushes inch by inch inside of your soaked hole, your walls sucking him in eagerly. your nails dig into his back, a moan pouring out of your lips as he finally pushes his entire cock into you.
your legs tremble as he starts pounding into you mercilessly and he shuts your cries up with a kiss to your lips, swallowing all of your pretty noises. he only breaks the kiss so he can whisper against your swollen lips.
“hm? ... please?” just that please alone coming from his mouth was enough to make you completely wrapped around his finger, he didn’t say that word often but when he did? it made you weak in the knees. “... i wanna see you bearing my child, [name].”
your eyes roll back in your head— making you see stars when he hits that sweet spot of yours, making you breathless. his crimson eyes rake over your face, that alone made him let out a barely restrained groan.
blade rolls his hips, thrusting in and out of you with an agonizingly slow yet hard pace. your nails scratching against his back and in return, he digs his fingers into your plush thighs hard.
“say yes. please, [name]. let me make you carry my child.” blade whispers into your ear, his thrusts starting to become greedier and faster. it was driving you insane, making you practically unable to speak— only able to let out pathetic noises of pleasure.
you give a quick nod, a breathless “yes” coming out of your lips. but that was enough for blade. with your approval, he picks up his already fast pace. his hands slither down under your thighs, pushing them up slightly so he can hit deeper.
he keeps shoving his cock deeply into you, his pace brutal as he takes you like this. as if you’ll run away from him, even though both you and him know there’s no escape when blade’s already staked his claim on you like this.
and you’ll be carrying his child soon, no less. you’re all his and he’s all yours.
with another hard, deep thrust— he fills you up with his hot release, a moan sounding out from the both of you. blade doesn’t pull out though, he keeps himself buried deep inside of you like this, panting heavily.
your hands drop from his back and land onto the mattress. you’re just as breathless as he is— if not even more. blade leans down to press a quick kiss to your lips. his face was not really giving away what he might be feeling right now, but the pure love in his eyes definitely tells you another story.
blade is drop dead enamored with you and he could not be happier to start a family with you, his beloved.
CW: Blade giving into love propaganda, Suggestive/Implied NSFW on lust part
Blade for centuries has only ever felt despair and sadness. So things like love and lust have don't cross his mind too often. He has the occasional thought, about how innocently pure it is, but never a permanent fixture.
Until he met you.
Ever the stone faced, he's glaring at you from a mile away and you can feel the intensity of his gaze. You don't know where, but you can sense it, as if someone has decided you're the one they wish to engrave in their memory. While you're not wrong in the least, you have no idea it's Blade of all people feeling such a way...
Suddenly, while he desire for death remains, he feels much more inclined to at least go on another day. Rather than muttering about deaths embrace like before, he's engaging in whatever you talk about (with grunts and hm's of acknowledgments). He still aims for an end, but if he must continue living, he thinks he might need you, to make it more bearable.
Days where he ponders on how someone can forget love, like him, exists, are now spent thinking about what you're doing. He's staring out the window with a glare while Kafka periodically sends him photos of you to stop him from seeking you out himself. If left unchecked for too long though, he seems to break out of what he believed to be a mara trance, right in your bed. An emotion that seemed no longer plausible for him, is now his everyday when he remembers you exist. And that's every moment he's not thinking about death.
And oh the lust.
As an immortal being, all human functions of his still work. But, he simply had no interest in them anymore. Its been hundreds of years since he ever felt the need for it. He hoped the next day would be his last (It never has been however), so he held off. So much so, he's too busy now to experience it. But once again, the moment you came into the picture...
Something deep deep in him (whether mara or his unconscious) whispers at him to pounce and strip you on the nearest surface.
He always ignores it, his nails digging into his palm through his glvoes. It doesn't matter because they'll heal eventually, but its starting to get annoying. He didn't really think he'd have the urge ever since his beginning he newfound cursed life, yet here he is.., Fighting himself from handling you in the roughest ways.
Which is why, the moment you hint at anything close to his carnal desire, he's absolutely feral. Actually, he's somehow feral and gentle. Trembling and baring his canines all as his fingers gently trace your veins.
He'll treat you like porcelain no matter how much his instability has him ask for something harsher. And of course... it's only when you ask for something rough, does he allow that pleasure.
(Still gives you like the most blissful aftercare, along with treating you like glass while he continues staring at you like he wants to kill you. For a split second, when you sigh and lean back into him, there's a twitch in the corner of his lips.)
Suggestive content, MDNI, will write fluffy stuff for him soon <3
I’m glad everyone agrees that Ashveil would be a soft dom, one of the softest out there. Def handles his sweetheart with so much delicate, gentle care because he knows his rough, wolfish tendencies could hurt you if he’s too rough. :((
For example, he tries (tries) to avoid leaving hickeys on your skin because when he does, they’re massive, dark, and extremely sensitive to the touch. Part of him feels this ugly possessive, proud feeling at them, but he knows they must be uncomfortable, and thinks they’re scary to look at..
I also feel like he’d lwk be the opposite of dacryphillia.. doesn’t like seeing you cry, wipes your eyes and cheeks with his big hands!!
He’s definitely on the shyer, more awkward side of the Hsr men when it comes to intimacy and sex (you’ll know if you’ve played literally any of the Planarcadia quests yet, he’s adorable!)
I’m so #inlove with this man I hate it he will be dealt with.
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