shroomie

she/they // no requests // 9teen

[eunjining]

❝ masterlist / intro ❞

virgo | currently playing: hsr |

[ fandoms ]

# honkai star rail

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» requests : closed

» fyi : although i don't write nsfw/dark fics, 18+ is still preferred (since i do reblog nsfw works and such) ; all works are gender neutral

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 © all original writing belongs to me. do not feed into any generative language ai models, translate, or repost.

[inpleinsoleil]

what bothers me equally as much as the very obvious race favorability in backrooms (film) fanfiction is that many of the already scarce clark fics are rooted in pedophillia

im sick of you people

[eunjining]

and bobby had like what.... 3 mins of screentime...? 😭 clark is literally one of the two main characters of the movie (him & mary), not to mention he has SO much depth and complexity to his character and he'd be great material for interesting fanfics and general fanmade material. it really is upsetting from both a selfish standpoint of wanting more fanfics of him but also bc the broader implications of this are that many backrooms fans would rather go the extra mile to pull out shit from a butt about a random ass yt man than write about a black man who took up at least half of the movie's screentime and story.

and i can't speak for black fans as to how they feel about the movies portrayal of a black character (I am aware there is some nuance since the casting was blind and race wasn't taken into consideration) but the least we can do as fans is to go out of our way and be more intentional about what kind of underlying stereotypes and racist views could seep into the material we write and publish. what you write and publish is a reflection of who you are no matter how much you try to deny it.

if you're gonna write for the backrooms and find yourself immediately wanting to write about bobby (a white man who was only there for 3 minutes and for mild comedy relief) over clark (an incredibly nuanced and complicated black character who i personally think is more attractive than bobby no diss) (and again, ONE OF THE TWO MAIN CHARACTERS) then I think some introspection might be needed.

so PLEASE for the love of god please give Clark the spotlight he deserves as a character + be conscious about HOW you write him! 😭💔

[eunjining]

❝ it's the little things ❞

gallagher + dr. ratio + boothill x gn!reader

summary: the little things that he does that drives you crazy and the little things you do that drive him crazy (very similar to the "random attractive things they do" concept!)

cw: kinda fluff but is suggestive at some parts (more specific cws at each character section)

word count: ~2300 total, ~760 per character

a/n: i finally finished my first yr of college and got burnt out after second semester so i need to slowly warm up to writing fanfic again by going back to the basics 😭 i swear i was 100% intending for this to be more fluffy, but then my period tracker app alerted me that i was ovulating so yeah idk lol

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❝ gallagher ❞

cw: slightly dog!coded gallagher, smoking cigarettes, submissive (?) gallagher, lowkey (highkey) sexual tension

# what drives you crazy…

the type to say "that's my girl/boy/(name)" when you tell him about a recent accomplishment, no matter how big or small— even if it's something as mundane as finishing a chore you've been putting off. in the same vein, he enjoys ruffling your hair quite a bit. if you jokingly tell him off by complaining that it makes you feel like a puppy and not a person, he'll chuckle and respond, "you're just as cute as one, though."

if you're a smoker like him (or want to try it with him for the first time), he enjoys sharing a lighter when smoking your cigarettes together. if you catch him already smoking outside of the bar and want to join him, he'll happily give you a spare from his packet. but instead simply handing it over like you expect, he takes one hand and cup your chin, holding it in place and effectively keeping your gaze on his. the faint smell of booze mixed with ash curls around you in wisps, embracing you delicately.

he takes out a cigarette with his free hand and places it between your lips, the hand holding your face slightly smushing your cheeks and parting your lips for him. and in the same way he'd kiss you, he leans forward and lets the fading sparks from his cigarette butt meet yours, keeping his eyes on yours all the while. smoke wisps out of the place where your cigarette butts meet, and he pulls away as though nothing happened.

if you don't smoke, however, gallagher will respect that to whatever means. he never smokes around you, and in the case you insist on staying when he does, he'll turn his head to the side and blow out the smoke elsewhere, exposing the expanse of his scarred neck (and maybe even some marks you might've left on him). the last thing he'd want is for you to get his secondhand smoke.

but secretly… he does like it when the scent of his cigarettes cling to your clothes after you've been around him for too long. he's even switched to certain cigarrettes with a more distinct smell so that it sticks around like a cologne would. he hopes that when his regulars smell those cigarettes on you while you visit him at the bar, they know you're his.

# what drives him crazy…

conversely, he loves it when you leave your scent on him. he doesn't care if it's your natural scent or if it's your perfumes— he graciously takes anything he can get. if you do show interest in perfumes, he'll happily take you to the shops at the penacony mall, and you can't help but notice that he seems way more invested in this than you are.

he'll lie to you that he prefers sleeping over at your place because "your bed is more comfortable," but in reality, he just enjoys having your scent suffocate him completely. and on the days that you do sleep at his place, he has to have you pressed up right against him, his nose right against the crook of your neck or buried against your chest. sometimes it even weirds you out when he just takes a deep breath of your scent, let out a quiet groan, then close his eyes in bliss like you were the answers to all of his problems and questions in the universe. but you let him, and he likes being a little selfish at times.

what he loves even more, though, is when you boss him around. he's used to doing the opposite as the security officer, barking orders and scolding the rookies at work all day. but when he's in the peace of your presence, he wants to turn his head off. he hardly gives in to the idea of being the "head of the household" nonsense. besides, he thinks you look irresistible when you're irritated.

not that he wouldn't take you seriously when you're genuinely upset, of course not. but, you know, when you're standing in the kitchen scolding him about not keeping his space tidy… he can't help the way his lips stretch into a cheeky grin. your lips are forming a small pout without you even noticing, your arms are crossed to emphasize your chest, and your eyebrows are furrowed juusst enough to make you look stern and cute at the same time.

when you finish ranting with a huff, he bolts up from the sofa and is immediately on his way to the kitchen as if he were your servant (which he's not exactly against the idea of). he chastely pecks your temple with a "yes, chief," the same title that his subordinates call him at work, as he passes by you. he's just grateful to have someone to put him in his place and keep him in line. "it keeps me humble," he tells you.

so slap him around a little more, yeah?

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❝ dr. ratio ❞

cw: ratio has no sense of personal space, allusions to making out, he's lowk horny but nothing explicitly stated

# what drives you crazy…

he enjoys standing or crowding behind you while teaching or correcting you. when you use the wrong formula while solving a problem on the chalkboard, he stands closely behind and takes your hand in his, puppeteering it to write the correct formula off to the side. his hand is much larger and warmer than yours, with several callouses on his fingers from the years he spent writing with chalk. you can feel his chest lightly brush against your back and his breath graze your neck, not to mention the way his sculpted biceps and forearms contrast with your own arm.

it's the same for your essays and writing as well. rather than simply taking your paper or laptop from your desk to read by himself, ratio stands right behind your chair and plants his hands on the desk, caging you in. his head is placed right on the crook of your neck, his hair tickling your cheek and his warmth crowding all around you. you notice just how close his hands are to yours, your pinky finger twitching with the urge to interlock with his thumb.

you don't dare to turn and face him either, but you can feel his reactions— the agitated sighs when he notices a spelling mistake, the slight huffs of amusement at an interesting point, or the low, gentle hums when he approves of your argument. once he's done skimming through, he slightly turns his head towards yours, his lips dangerously close to your cheek.

"acceptable," he simply says, but in a low, intimate baritone that makes you shiver. "but i'd suggest varying your sentence structure. your arguments also lack… passion. but you're halfway there, which is more than what my students and colleagues are capable of." if he's feeling particularly affectionate that day, he'll kiss your shoulder before leaving to attend to his own studies.

he also insists on adjusting your accessories and clothes despite them looking just fine (to you, at least), and you wonder if it's simply a poor excuse to touch you. he meticulously adjusts your glasses, the collar of your shirt, and smooths out the wrinkles from your clothes, his hands brushing over your waist, hips, and thighs in the process. he even goes as far as to make sure the charm on your necklace is perfectly centered between your collarbones, his face awfully close to yours as he does so.

"students are easily distracted nowadays. if you won't wear an alabastor head like mine, the least you should do is keep your appearance tidy," he tells you with a half-feigned sternness.

# what drives him crazy…

on the flipside, ratio feels his stomach twist and flutter when he sees your tidy appearance rattled, especially if he's the cause for it. maybe your glasses are steaming from his warm breath and sitting crookedly on your nose, your makeup smudged (especially your lipstick or lipgloss, which was kissed off of you), your shirt wrinkled from the way he gripped your waist, or your hairdo now out of place from the way his other hand was holding the back of your head to keep you in place.

he finds it even cuter when you get flustered and quickly try to fix it, as if you were worried that he'd care about it. after all, he only shows this type of affection in the privacy of your home— he'd rather you show your true self to him and him only, in the same way he does when he takes off his alabastor head for you.

another important trait of your relationship, at least to him, is that you two treat each other as equals, regardless of your intelligence level— which is why he particularly enjoys it when you become argumentative and defiant against his criticisms. the only people who should take his advice as gospel are his students, and he certainly doesn't see you as one, even if you do learn from him.

he tilts his head with interest whenever you poke and prod at his reasoning. partly because he enjoys the intellectual stimulation, but also because he loves the way your soft cheek smushes slightly when you rest it against your hand, or the way you bite down on your lower lip when you struggle to understand his line of thought. in the back of his mind, it reminds him of the way he holds your face in his hands and runs his thumbs over your cheeks or the way he nips at your lip in between heavy kisses.

but of course, you never catch him daydreaming. he's too smart to let himself slip up in front of someone like you.

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❝ boothill ❞

cw: biting, hickeys, physical touch, teasing, romantic tension, there's like one suggestive innuendo

# what drives you crazy…

likes to bite or lick you, specifically your fingers. when your hands are cradling his face, he turns his head slightly to the side to bite down on your thumb ever so slightly. if you hand-feed him a dessert you were having, he'll purposefully take a bite way too big in order to lick the cream off your fingers. no matter how much you cringe, how much your nose scrunches up, or how many times you chide him, he never stops. he gets a kick out annoying you a bit, but he also just enjoys showing off his sharp teeth. his body doesn't generate natural heat in the same way it used to, which means his tongue is cold as opposed to warm— even better for making you jolt or squirm.

having sharp teeth also means leaving hickeys in the weirdest places possible, even without intending it— the palm of your hand, your earlobe, your temple, and even your forehead. his kisses always linger just a bit too long, and before you know it, there's a small reddish-purplish bruise where he had just kissed you. it gets annoying when you have to try to cover them, but there's also a weird satisfaction that comes with him marking you in places that only he could.

he also has a strange habit of patting of tapping your hips and bum, either with his whole hand, his fingertips, or just two fingers. he needs to squeeze past you? he taps your ass. you're distracted and he needs to get your attention? he taps your ass. you tell him about something you're proud of? he taps your ass with a wide, toothy grin and a "there you go, knew you could do it."

he also enjoys coaxing things out of you. he likes when you're assertive and straightforward with the things you want or the things you want to say to him. he'll eventually sit down and listen to you, but he can't help teasing you a bit beforehand.

"c'mon sweetie, what's the magic word?" he teases, affectionately brushing his fingers beneath your chin. "you gotta be clearer with your words, sweetcheeks."

even if it gets on your nerves (it does), deep down he just wants you to know that he'll do anything you want at the drop of a hat. after the teasing is over, he's already on his way to fulfill whatever mission you assign to him, whether it's getting you a late-night craving or driving you places when you don't feel like it.

# what drives him crazy…

along the same line, boothill loves when you make him work for things. whether it be your praise, your attention, or your touch, he doesn't mind it if you're being a little difficult. in fact, he prefers it when you're difficult. he loves seeing you get picky about the gifts he buys you, what restaurants he takes you to, or the gestures he does for you. knowing you from inside out is great, sure, but he hates being stagnant. he wants to keep learning new things about you.

he gets a strange thrill during that half-a-second moment where you assess the souvenir he got you after another galaxy ranger mission, your eyes dragging down the accessory in his hands. he holds his breath for a moment and prays that you'll like it, his smile hopeful. when you finally smile in return after what feels like forever, he lets out a sigh of relief and watches you gush over it.

"pshh, i knew you'd like it," he drawls as if he wasn't sweating bullets (literally?) while he was out shopping for you. "it's jus' a lil something i got. no need to get all excited, sweetcheeks."

and though he hates to admit it, he loves when you lead him on or leave him hanging. you've got this thing you like to do with his hat specifically where you'll get on your tiptoes and pluck his cowboy hat straight off of his head before wearing it on yours. he smiles slightly and sees the way you look up at him through your lashes and the brim of his hat, your hair sticking out in all the wrong ways and the hat sitting lopsided on your too-small head. your smile is soft but teasing, like you know what you're doing.

"you do know what that means, right? can't have you just wearin' anybody's hat," he says, his eyes lidded and relaxed as he tilts his head. all you do is giggle and strut off, the cowboy hat clashing with your soft pajamas. he simply clicks his tongue in response and chases after you, and even if you don't give in to his antics, at least he got to see you teasing him.

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i SWEAR i wanted this to be fluffy i SWEARRRRR

[eunjining]

❝ it's the little things ❞

gallagher + dr. ratio + boothill x gn!reader

summary: the little things that he does that drives you crazy and the little things you do that drive him crazy (very similar to the "random attractive things they do" concept!)

cw: kinda fluff but is suggestive at some parts (more specific cws at each character section)

word count: ~2300 total, ~760 per character

a/n: i finally finished my first yr of college and got burnt out after second semester so i need to slowly warm up to writing fanfic again by going back to the basics 😭 i swear i was 100% intending for this to be more fluffy, but then my period tracker app alerted me that i was ovulating so yeah idk lol

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❝ gallagher ❞

cw: slightly dog!coded gallagher, smoking cigarettes, submissive (?) gallagher, lowkey (highkey) sexual tension

# what drives you crazy…

the type to say "that's my girl/boy/(name)" when you tell him about a recent accomplishment, no matter how big or small— even if it's something as mundane as finishing a chore you've been putting off. in the same vein, he enjoys ruffling your hair quite a bit. if you jokingly tell him off by complaining that it makes you feel like a puppy and not a person, he'll chuckle and respond, "you're just as cute as one, though."

if you're a smoker like him (or want to try it with him for the first time), he enjoys sharing a lighter when smoking your cigarettes together. if you catch him already smoking outside of the bar and want to join him, he'll happily give you a spare from his packet. but instead simply handing it over like you expect, he takes one hand and cup your chin, holding it in place and effectively keeping your gaze on his. the faint smell of booze mixed with ash curls around you in wisps, embracing you delicately.

he takes out a cigarette with his free hand and places it between your lips, the hand holding your face slightly smushing your cheeks and parting your lips for him. and in the same way he'd kiss you, he leans forward and lets the fading sparks from his cigarette butt meet yours, keeping his eyes on yours all the while. smoke wisps out of the place where your cigarette butts meet, and he pulls away as though nothing happened.

if you don't smoke, however, gallagher will respect that to whatever means. he never smokes around you, and in the case you insist on staying when he does, he'll turn his head to the side and blow out the smoke elsewhere, exposing the expanse of his scarred neck (and maybe even some marks you might've left on him). the last thing he'd want is for you to get his secondhand smoke.

but secretly… he does like it when the scent of his cigarettes cling to your clothes after you've been around him for too long. he's even switched to certain cigarrettes with a more distinct smell so that it sticks around like a cologne would. he hopes that when his regulars smell those cigarettes on you while you visit him at the bar, they know you're his.

# what drives him crazy…

conversely, he loves it when you leave your scent on him. he doesn't care if it's your natural scent or if it's your perfumes— he graciously takes anything he can get. if you do show interest in perfumes, he'll happily take you to the shops at the penacony mall, and you can't help but notice that he seems way more invested in this than you are.

he'll lie to you that he prefers sleeping over at your place because "your bed is more comfortable," but in reality, he just enjoys having your scent suffocate him completely. and on the days that you do sleep at his place, he has to have you pressed up right against him, his nose right against the crook of your neck or buried against your chest. sometimes it even weirds you out when he just takes a deep breath of your scent, let out a quiet groan, then close his eyes in bliss like you were the answers to all of his problems and questions in the universe. but you let him, and he likes being a little selfish at times.

what he loves even more, though, is when you boss him around. he's used to doing the opposite as the security officer, barking orders and scolding the rookies at work all day. but when he's in the peace of your presence, he wants to turn his head off. he hardly gives in to the idea of being the "head of the household" nonsense. besides, he thinks you look irresistible when you're irritated.

not that he wouldn't take you seriously when you're genuinely upset, of course not. but, you know, when you're standing in the kitchen scolding him about not keeping his space tidy… he can't help the way his lips stretch into a cheeky grin. your lips are forming a small pout without you even noticing, your arms are crossed to emphasize your chest, and your eyebrows are furrowed juusst enough to make you look stern and cute at the same time.

when you finish ranting with a huff, he bolts up from the sofa and is immediately on his way to the kitchen as if he were your servant (which he's not exactly against the idea of). he chastely pecks your temple with a "yes, chief," the same title that his subordinates call him at work, as he passes by you. he's just grateful to have someone to put him in his place and keep him in line. "it keeps me humble," he tells you.

so slap him around a little more, yeah?

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❝ dr. ratio ❞

cw: ratio has no sense of personal space, allusions to making out, he's lowk horny but nothing explicitly stated

# what drives you crazy…

he enjoys standing or crowding behind you while teaching or correcting you. when you use the wrong formula while solving a problem on the chalkboard, he stands closely behind and takes your hand in his, puppeteering it to write the correct formula off to the side. his hand is much larger and warmer than yours, with several callouses on his fingers from the years he spent writing with chalk. you can feel his chest lightly brush against your back and his breath graze your neck, not to mention the way his sculpted biceps and forearms contrast with your own arm.

it's the same for your essays and writing as well. rather than simply taking your paper or laptop from your desk to read by himself, ratio stands right behind your chair and plants his hands on the desk, caging you in. his head is placed right on the crook of your neck, his hair tickling your cheek and his warmth crowding all around you. you notice just how close his hands are to yours, your pinky finger twitching with the urge to interlock with his thumb.

you don't dare to turn and face him either, but you can feel his reactions— the agitated sighs when he notices a spelling mistake, the slight huffs of amusement at an interesting point, or the low, gentle hums when he approves of your argument. once he's done skimming through, he slightly turns his head towards yours, his lips dangerously close to your cheek.

"acceptable," he simply says, but in a low, intimate baritone that makes you shiver. "but i'd suggest varying your sentence structure. your arguments also lack… passion. but you're halfway there, which is more than what my students and colleagues are capable of." if he's feeling particularly affectionate that day, he'll kiss your shoulder before leaving to attend to his own studies.

he also insists on adjusting your accessories and clothes despite them looking just fine (to you, at least), and you wonder if it's simply a poor excuse to touch you. he meticulously adjusts your glasses, the collar of your shirt, and smooths out the wrinkles from your clothes, his hands brushing over your waist, hips, and thighs in the process. he even goes as far as to make sure the charm on your necklace is perfectly centered between your collarbones, his face awfully close to yours as he does so.

"students are easily distracted nowadays. if you won't wear an alabastor head like mine, the least you should do is keep your appearance tidy," he tells you with a half-feigned sternness.

# what drives him crazy…

on the flipside, ratio feels his stomach twist and flutter when he sees your tidy appearance rattled, especially if he's the cause for it. maybe your glasses are steaming from his warm breath and sitting crookedly on your nose, your makeup smudged (especially your lipstick or lipgloss, which was kissed off of you), your shirt wrinkled from the way he gripped your waist, or your hairdo now out of place from the way his other hand was holding the back of your head to keep you in place.

he finds it even cuter when you get flustered and quickly try to fix it, as if you were worried that he'd care about it. after all, he only shows this type of affection in the privacy of your home— he'd rather you show your true self to him and him only, in the same way he does when he takes off his alabastor head for you.

another important trait of your relationship, at least to him, is that you two treat each other as equals, regardless of your intelligence level— which is why he particularly enjoys it when you become argumentative and defiant against his criticisms. the only people who should take his advice as gospel are his students, and he certainly doesn't see you as one, even if you do learn from him.

he tilts his head with interest whenever you poke and prod at his reasoning. partly because he enjoys the intellectual stimulation, but also because he loves the way your soft cheek smushes slightly when you rest it against your hand, or the way you bite down on your lower lip when you struggle to understand his line of thought. in the back of his mind, it reminds him of the way he holds your face in his hands and runs his thumbs over your cheeks or the way he nips at your lip in between heavy kisses.

but of course, you never catch him daydreaming. he's too smart to let himself slip up in front of someone like you.

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❝ boothill ❞

cw: biting, hickeys, physical touch, teasing, romantic tension, there's like one suggestive innuendo

# what drives you crazy…

likes to bite or lick you, specifically your fingers. when your hands are cradling his face, he turns his head slightly to the side to bite down on your thumb ever so slightly. if you hand-feed him a dessert you were having, he'll purposefully take a bite way too big in order to lick the cream off your fingers. no matter how much you cringe, how much your nose scrunches up, or how many times you chide him, he never stops. he gets a kick out annoying you a bit, but he also just enjoys showing off his sharp teeth. his body doesn't generate natural heat in the same way it used to, which means his tongue is cold as opposed to warm— even better for making you jolt or squirm.

having sharp teeth also means leaving hickeys in the weirdest places possible, even without intending it— the palm of your hand, your earlobe, your temple, and even your forehead. his kisses always linger just a bit too long, and before you know it, there's a small reddish-purplish bruise where he had just kissed you. it gets annoying when you have to try to cover them, but there's also a weird satisfaction that comes with him marking you in places that only he could.

he also has a strange habit of patting of tapping your hips and bum, either with his whole hand, his fingertips, or just two fingers. he needs to squeeze past you? he taps your ass. you're distracted and he needs to get your attention? he taps your ass. you tell him about something you're proud of? he taps your ass with a wide, toothy grin and a "there you go, knew you could do it."

he also enjoys coaxing things out of you. he likes when you're assertive and straightforward with the things you want or the things you want to say to him. he'll eventually sit down and listen to you, but he can't help teasing you a bit beforehand.

"c'mon sweetie, what's the magic word?" he teases, affectionately brushing his fingers beneath your chin. "you gotta be clearer with your words, sweetcheeks."

even if it gets on your nerves (it does), deep down he just wants you to know that he'll do anything you want at the drop of a hat. after the teasing is over, he's already on his way to fulfill whatever mission you assign to him, whether it's getting you a late-night craving or driving you places when you don't feel like it.

# what drives him crazy…

along the same line, boothill loves when you make him work for things. whether it be your praise, your attention, or your touch, he doesn't mind it if you're being a little difficult. in fact, he prefers it when you're difficult. he loves seeing you get picky about the gifts he buys you, what restaurants he takes you to, or the gestures he does for you. knowing you from inside out is great, sure, but he hates being stagnant. he wants to keep learning new things about you.

he gets a strange thrill during that half-a-second moment where you assess the souvenir he got you after another galaxy ranger mission, your eyes dragging down the accessory in his hands. he holds his breath for a moment and prays that you'll like it, his smile hopeful. when you finally smile in return after what feels like forever, he lets out a sigh of relief and watches you gush over it.

"pshh, i knew you'd like it," he drawls as if he wasn't sweating bullets (literally?) while he was out shopping for you. "it's jus' a lil something i got. no need to get all excited, sweetcheeks."

and though he hates to admit it, he loves when you lead him on or leave him hanging. you've got this thing you like to do with his hat specifically where you'll get on your tiptoes and pluck his cowboy hat straight off of his head before wearing it on yours. he smiles slightly and sees the way you look up at him through your lashes and the brim of his hat, your hair sticking out in all the wrong ways and the hat sitting lopsided on your too-small head. your smile is soft but teasing, like you know what you're doing.

"you do know what that means, right? can't have you just wearin' anybody's hat," he says, his eyes lidded and relaxed as he tilts his head. all you do is giggle and strut off, the cowboy hat clashing with your soft pajamas. he simply clicks his tongue in response and chases after you, and even if you don't give in to his antics, at least he got to see you teasing him.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

i SWEAR i wanted this to be fluffy i SWEARRRRR

[khirslana]

˗ˏˋ is it so bad that i want a piece of me to become a part of you, too? ˊˎ-

synopsis: your lover had been deliberating on something all day. despite being the sole player, phainon finds himself losing his own game of Back and Forth. now that the time has come to finally set his plan into motion, he finds himself wracked with doubt, wondering if, in the end, this is all just a terrible idea.  (in other words, phainon wants to gift you one of his feathers, but wonders if it's worthy enough of being in your possession.)

wc: 2.9k

tags: slight angst (phainon grapples with his insecurities), reader comforts phainon, established relationship

— a/n: this is written in a setting where amphoreus has finally been realised after 3.7. it’s how phainon has the ability to materialise and use his wings, as it's only after he takes on the mantle of khaslana does he gain his other form :)

; — prefer to read on [ AO3 ] ?

Phainon doesn’t know why his hands tremble slightly as he gazes down at the little object sitting in his large, now sweaty palm. In reality it weighs nothing—yet it feels as though Phainon’s holding something with a density rivaling that of two suns combined.

Or rather, he does know the reason. But the answer is just so absurd to him that he pushes the notion away in denial, if only to preserve what little calm he has left. His right foot thumps at the ground at the same pace as his racing heart. 

Just half an hour ago he’d been pacing around the whole house. Up and down the living room, the kitchen. Bouncing between the walls in the bathroom. Climbing and descending the stairs to your bedroom like it was another one of his workout routines.

Your neighbours might even recall seeing the young man in the garden, bashing his head against a tree as if it would sprout legs and run away with his problem—if only to save itself from his physical abuse—if he hit himself hard enough.

Definitely not his proudest moment… Phainon groans. He has half the mind to apologise to poor old Helena for such a sorry sight when he next sees her. With a huff, the Chrysos Heir had resorted to dragging his feet back indoors, plonking his ass down on the sofa after the stunt. He could make a fool out of himself privately that way.

This is ridiculous, he scolds himself in a tone that most would consider self-depracting. Sharp and critical. Like he can’t properly execute a routine for the most straightforward of dances, stumbling over his own two feet. You’re the Deliverer. This is nothing.

Phainon had won hundreds of debates against fellow students and professors alike. He had given emotional, passionate speeches in front of thousands of Okhema’s citizens to rally their spirits. He’d argued—still poised, still calculated and composed—with the more aggravating members of the Council of Elders at Dawncloud about their lack of urgency for the severity of the once impending crisis. 

From simpler topics regarding better trade routes into and out of the city and preparations for upcoming festivals, to more dire subjects concerning the most harrowing situations imaginable, Phainon utilises his natural charisma and honesty to sway the masses in his favour, for the safety and good of all. All whilst maintaining his signature level-headed demeanor—even if it’s all just a facade. 

Like him or not, the undeniable fact is that Phainon reaches people without even trying. Moves them. Speaks with such heartfelt conviction that you can’t help but feel safe in his presence, in the promises that people know he’ll do just about anything and everything to keep. His words are a formidable weapon. A strength comparable to that of his combat-honed body. 

All of these commendable feats, yet his heart quivers at the mere thought of presenting you—one, single person—with something so simple. How unbelievable.

He wills the stubborn organ to calm down with a deep breath. In, then out, and in again with his eyes closed. But every inhale only seems to worsen the load. Exhalation settling like jagged stones in his chest.

It should feel like coming down—like unshackling the invisible weights bound to his wrists and ankles. It doesn’t. 

Phainon repeats the steps three times more but decidedly gives up with a shake of his head. Fluffy strands of blue-tinted hair sway at the motion, brushing over his forehead in light kisses. 

There is really, truly nothing to be worried about. It really, truly shouldn’t have him stressing out as if he’d be handing you a piece of himself to forever be called yours, if you’d be kind enough to grace him with your approval.

Except, he kind of was. Quite literally.

One golden feather. 

One of his very own, plucked out from his still-furled wing in the early morning after you had left for work—not before leaving him with a chaste kiss on his temple—and inspected twice, thrice, and four times over. Five times, possibly, just to be extra sure of its quality. 

And sure he was. It’s the most exquisite one Phainon has ever seen, its luster so ethereal that the feather appears to have its own mini halo when he holds it up against the window. Upon first glance, it almost looks as though it should feel solid. Rigid and firm like tempered steel. 

But it isn’t. It’s soft. Fluffy. Bends to the forgiving will of his fingers.

There was none else like it, no matter how hard he skimmed over his two wings just to be one hundred percent certain he wasn’t dreaming.

Phainon wants you to have it. 

You absolutely had to have it. You must. A most beautiful feather, such a delicate thing born of his burning, inhuman body, for the most beautiful person in the world. It was perfect. You are perfect. It makes sense. 

Another deep, shaky breath. In, hold, and out.

Be still, my heart. A mantra he whispers to himself whenever his entire being starts to act embarrassingly, wholly consumed by the thoughts of you. He tries to repeat it with as much confidence he can muster. Be still, lest I lose myself to you completely. 

Phainon turns the feather over by its shaft and scrutinises it once more. He trails his right index and middle finger across the downy barbs, then carefully across the rest of the vane. 

Would it be strange…?  To randomly give you this little feather. Something he had extracted out of his own flesh and blood, and immediately thought you must have. Is this weird? 

…Is he weird? 

The young man swallows down a lump in his throat, thick and leaden, that he hadn’t even realised was forming and thinks about how you might react when you walk past the threshold.

Maybe you won’t like it. 

And maybe you’ll stare at him blankly. 

Maybe you’ll furrow your brows. Frown and ask why you’d ever want such a thing. Maybe you don’t need this, this useless quill that serves no real purpose other than to prove his wretched constitution. And maybe this is all just too much and maybe he’s stepping too far. Or—even worse—maybe it’s not enough. You deserve far, far more than whatever he could possibly offer you—and he most definitely isn’t enou—

The shrill, distinct sound of keys jingling and the knob of the front door turning drags him out of his spiral. That final thought is snuffed out before he can attempt to grapple with it. 

Phainon’s whole body jerks up immediately, shooting up off of the couch and standing ramrod stiff facing the entryway of your shared house. Quickly, his fingers curl over the gilded source of his distress as he tucks his hand behind his back, shielding it from your view. 

The door opens.

Your form drags in with it, silhouette illuminated by the opening. A resounding click echoes down the hallway as you begin to shut the entrance, the outer world now left behind you. 

“Dawnlight,” he greets you with that special little endearment just for you, sounding quite breathless. Phainon begins to make his way over to you in small strides but freezes just short of meeting you all the way.

Right away he takes note of the tired slump of your shoulders. Of the dark circles framing your eyes and the way you haphazardly toss your bag on the ground. Your clothes are a slight mess, one half of your collar upturned and the necklace he’d given you hanging off-centred. Jumper sporting a stain that wasn’t there when he saw you this morning.

Phainon hears something vaguely calling out to him. A familiar voice asking how his day had been and if he’d eaten breakfast, had dinner, but none of it registers in his brain. Your mouth moves. He follows the movement of your lips. Nothing tracks. It’s all a blur. He sweeps over your knackered form once more.

Yeah. You really, really don’t need this right now—

“Phainon…?” Your voice. It’s no louder than a cautious murmur so as to not startle him, finally breaking through the sudden haze. You had called his name, concerned, after he failed to respond to your words.  

The Chrysos Heir blinks once. He realises how you’ve somehow bridged the small distance between you without him noticing. You stand right in front of him now, the worry on your visage clear as day, and he silently curses himself for adding yet another point of stress to your day. 

You should be relaxing. Not fretting over him. Over his stupid dilemma. 

Well, he braces himself, this is it. Phainon shakes his head. Gathers his bearings as best he can.

Wordlessly, your lover gently reaches for your hand. You give it to him easily, no questions asked, watching him from beneath your lashes. A flash of concentration suddenly washes over his face as you observe him curiously. You don’t miss how he refuses to meet your eyes when you try to catch his azure gaze.

There’s a pause—half a second of hesitation, of him worrying at his lip—before he relents.

You want to point it out, want to ask what this is all about. But you don’t. You can tell he’s trying to find something, and so you allow him the space to navigate freely without interruption.

He’ll come to you. He always does.

“Here,” Phainon beckons a moment later in a soft hush. There’s a certain raspiness to his tone that you pick up easily. Like he’s choking the word out. A light strain, as if that simple utterance is paining him somehow. 

His hand, large and calloused from the years of training and ruthless battles as it may be, radiates a steady heat so characteristic of himself from where it cups the back of your palm tenderly. But it shakes. Shudders. Barely, but it’s there.

You bite your tongue.

With great care, Phainon brings his other hand out of hiding and places the aureate piece right in the centre of your upturned palm. It catches the fading sunlight filtering through the curtains, glowing in that same way from when he held it against Okhema’s light, and you can’t help but gasp faintly. 

Awed. 

You tilt your hand from left to right slowly, Phainon’s own following your motions. The feather’s gleam remains fixed on the setting sun, drawn to it like a flower. That small halo appears again—real and otherworldly all at once. Your eyes twinkle as they catch the gentle rays of light reflecting off of the plume, and Phainon finds himself unable to resist the way you draw him in with the sight.

A hallowed little thing, you think. Surprisingly warm, too. It feels like sunlight made tangible. Like weightless gold. 

Almost unbearably nervous at your lack of an immediate response, coupled with your sudden noise, Phainon begins to speak again before you even manage to look back up at him. Your gaze remains fixed on the gift he’d just given you.

“It’s a feather—one of mine. The best of the bunch,” he explains, all in a single breath. Phainon winces instantly, a grimace settling over his features. Of course they can tell it’s a feather, stupid. They can see that. But he presses on. “It caught my eye earlier this morning. The shiniest one I’ve ever seen.”

When you seem to closer inspect the feather, face leaning in to have a better look, Phainon roughly clears his throat once. “Don’t worry—I cleaned it a while ago. Before you got home.”

Another recollection of his mantra. Still, you don’t speak. He wishes—oh, Titans he wishes—you would. Something. Anything. 

So he continues. Unsteady, and unsure. Like a fawn learning to walk.

“I know it’s not much, but…” Phainon inhales deeply. You pick up the most minute tremble in the sound, one that squeezes at your chest once you finally piece together what’s going on. “I… I hope you like it.”

It’s then when you finally raise your head to look at him, and almost immediately, the look in your eyes dispels the fear that had been festering inside of him for the better half of the entire day. 

Radiance—in the shape of you—scattering the dark.

You hold no scrutiny. No clawing inspection or the crushing weight of expectation. Just innocent curiosity. In your irises Phainon finds nothing but a deep, profound sense of admiration. Wonder. So intense, in fact, that the sight would send him reeling if not for the grounding feel of your skin against his own.

Then you see it. You see the gears turning in his head, you see his mind coming down from the high of uncertainty and vicious self-doubt. 

You understand. You always have.

Always, always.

Without much thought and before you can think to stop yourself, your empty hand smoothly glides past the column of his neck and the sharp cut of his jaw to cup at his cheek.

Phainon follows you, fingers gingerly grasping at your wrist. The action borders on the line between fear and reverence. Trust and the instinct to hide, all at once.

Your touch feels like a soothing balm against the eternal flames raging beneath his skin. Grounding. Anchoring him to the present, away from the noise. The stones chaining him prisoner—their heaviness, their rough surfaces—all but fade at the sensation of you.

And for a moment, you see everything. From the way his chest rises and falls just a fraction too quick to be considered normal, to the outline of his cheek from where he gnaws on it with itchy teeth. You see it in his eyes. Something more vulnerable. More raw. The way his gaze wavers for just a split second, but a split second too long. His eyes never falter. Never—not when he looks at you. 

The dawning realisation crushes you in ways you can’t even begin to describe. It’s a feeling heavier than the weight of the world, doubled. 

“Oh, Phainon…” You utter his name so quietly it's practically a whisper, low and intimate, and Phainon feels like he wants to cry. “You sweet thing.”

But before he even has the chance to, your limb is slipping out of his grip. For a moment a sharp burst of panic surges through his spine at the loss of contact. He wants to chase after you—very nearly does—but you’re already two steps ahead. 

Your free hand slips below his arm and rests in between his shoulder blades, igniting a trail of goosebumps underneath his shirt from where you smoothed over. Silently, carefully, you pull him into you until you’re flush against each other. 

Phainon all but melts into you with zero resistance. Gladly. His head falls easily, finding its home in the crook of your neck like it was second nature. Because it is.

He doesn’t miss the way your other hand curls over the golden feather protectively.

You hold it firmly to your chest. Protected. Cherished.

Something cracks inside of him. Then it swells and swells until he feels close to bursting. You’re warm from where you’ve tucked him against you, and Phainon wastes no time burrowing further into you. Into your softness. Into your acceptance of him in his entirety. He’s hyperaware of your heartbeat, thumping away against his own sternum like a steady lullaby.

“It’s beautiful, honest. Thank you so much.” The sincerity in your voice undoes him completely. Phainon lets slip a small, relieved smile, burying it into your neck. “I love it,” you swear. “Truly,” you promise.

He knows you mean every word. Doesn’t need to think twice about it. 

It’s only then does he let go of the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding in. Phainon pulls you in closer, impossibly closer, until he can’t tell where he ends and you begin. Until your breaths synchronise and warmth bleeds into one pool.

And then you do something that almost sends his knees bucking. Something that only happens when you know he’s close to splintering.

Your hand between his shoulders travels upwards, lingering at his nape. Now cradling the back of his head, you begin to delicately pet his hair, toying with the silky strands and tugging with a gentle pressure you know he craves.

This—you, your presence, your embrace—feels like home. Feels right. 

It should feel like coming down. And it does. 

No more weights. None on his wrists, none on his ankles. None in his heart.

Phainon makes a choked noise at the back of his throat at the comforting sensation, at the relief. He wants to say something—tell you he’s glad and that he’s forever thankful for your kindness. But he doesn’t trust his voice to not waver and crack at the seams. Doesn’t trust himself to not break this fragile silence that has settled over the both of you like a blanket. 

So he merely stands there, in the hallway, with you in his arms. You’re swaying him side to side now. Or maybe he’s swaying you. And he sighs a pleased sound.

Content.

[eunjining]

❝ realistic courting ❞

jiaoqiu + dan heng x gn! reader

summary: hsr men and how their literal/metaphorical animal counterparts affect their courting methods towards you! (headcanons with story excerpts)

cw: animal tendencies, the scientific parts will refer to male and female but reader is still gn, very much situationship energy, more specifics on each section

word count: about 2.5k total

a/n: god this took FOREVER. finals drained me so bad im not even kidding. tbh i was thinking about adding mydei as a lion but i couldn't come up w anything.... sry.....

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❝ jiaoqiu - fox ❞

cw: takes place after the 2.4 incident

“male foxes will follow females around, playfully teasing her with antics. he will also nuzzle or groom the female to show affection, and will fight other male foxes for her. the male fox will also guard his mate to ensure that he can be present while the female is receptive. female foxes will also ‘yell’ in order to attract mates, and the males will reciprocate with barks of his own.”

what jiaoqiu lacks in sight, he usually makes up in touch.

it’s almost sort of become a game between you two of who can catch each other off guard by sneaking up on them. you would think that jiaoqiu is more easily startled due to his blindness, but his foxian senses combined with his further sensitized hearing makes him much harder to sneak up on.

he’ll sneak up from behind, using his other senses to guess where you might be. and when you least expect it… “a-ha!” you let out a startled yelp as he laughs, his hands still placed on your shoulders or wherever his hands had landed. maybe you tumble forward, giggling as well— which in that case, he wraps his arms around you from behind, trapping you in his embrace his a mischievous smile. perhaps the stereotypes about the “sly fox” were true when it came to him.

“…”

“i know you’re behind me.”

you let out a groan of disappointment, sitting beside him with a huff. “your hearing gets sharper by the day, i swear. can’t you at least pretend to not hear me?”

with a stifled laugh, jiaoqiu reaches over and flicks your nose with precision. “i wouldn’t want to go easy on you. my hearing didn’t magically get better, you know. it still took some practice, which you are clearly lacking in.”

“wha- excuse you!” you try and poke his cheek, but he manages to dodge it, laughing childishly all the while.

and even in moments of peace, his fingertips are attracted to your skin like magnets.

he’s memorized your face, of course. whether it be from the memories before the poison or from memorizing the contours of your face, jiaoqiu knows your features better than he knows his own. but he uses it as an excuse more than anything, really. “just making sure it’s really you,” he always tells you as he smooths his fingers over your nose or your cheeks.

there’s no shame in the way he savors it, either. his thumbs always smooth over your cheeks and his fingertips always brush against your hair as if wanting to fix it. had it been before the poisoning, he would’ve gladly smoothed over your hair, helped you braid it, and assist you in whatever intricate haircare routine you lived by.

“you’ve got a little something there…” jiaoqiu mumbles as you’re trying another one of his dishes.

“hm? really?” but before you can say anything else, his thumb brushes a stray piece of rice from the corner of your lips. “how did you even notice that?” you ask. he can’t see it, but the slight waver in your voice tells him you’re flustered.

he gives you that classic, coy smile as his ears twitch slightly. “just guessing.”

but now, he’s learned to restrain himself (somewhat). he knows better than to mess with your appearance when he can’t even see it.

that doesn’t mean he’s entirely given up on trying to take care of you, though. blindness be damned, jiaoqiu refuses to be treated like the wounded, helpless fox that most people see him as ever since returning to the xianzhou yaoqing.

especially when it’s a busy day at the market and he’s out with you to get more medicinal herbs and roots, but most importantly— ingredients for hotpot. one hand holds a basket full of spices while the other has your hand or wrist in an iron grip. it would’ve been more than a hassle to lose you in such a crowded place like this.

but when you wander off or his grip slips, his stomach drops. oh god. he begins to worry for all sorts of things. will you find their way back home somehow? can you find him? can you even see him through the crowd? what if some scammer tries to target your poor, innocent soul to deprive you of all your money? or worse, what if another foxian man tries to be suave and win you over?

he knows it’s irrational. he doesn’t mean to be condescending, really. you’ve lived on the yaoqing your whole life, and you’re certainly not defenseless. but still…

“and what about these fish balls? they’d pair really well with the…” jiaoqiu trails off and gulps as he realizes he’s lost your grip.

you’re just about as anxious. you’re not sure when it happened, but now you’re at a stall with an old man selling pottery. people push their way past you, and there doesn’t seem to be a gap for you to sneak through. “hm? jiao? jiaoqiu?”

“y/n? y/n? … y/n!”

you hear his voice in the distance. he couldn’t have been that far, judging by the volume of his voice.

“coming!” you shove your way through, ignoring the few glares you receive on your way there. jiaoqiu continues calling your name, and you follow it like the north star. finally, after some effort, you spot a pair of pink ears poking from above the crowd.

“jiao!” you call out to him one last time, grabbing his hand with a relieved laugh. you can see his anxious expression melt away as well as his grip tightens slightly.

“don’t wander off again like that,” he gently scolds you. he gives your nose a little nudge from his fingertip. his ears twitch when he hears your sheepish chuckle. his voice drops to a softer, more protective tone as he squeezes your hand in his, this time interlocking your fingers instead.

“and don’t let me lose you again, alright?”

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❝ dan heng - dragon ❞

cw: one curse word, reader is part of astral express crew

“dragons will usually exchange gifts, particularly ones with great value or ones from their personal hoard. in some myths, dragons will show vulnerability (such as going into a ‘belly up’ position) in order to show trust to one another.”

dan heng is more than aware of his more… draconic tendencies, whether he likes it or not. even if he chooses not to do research on it himself, it will show up from time to time regardless.

of course, he’s aware of his instinct to hoard. he doesn’t hoard “things” in the traditional sense, but if there are ancient scrolls or letters to scan and add to the archive, he’ll do so without hesitation. in a way, the archive was his hoard.

but dan heng knows that gifts should be for the other person, not himself. as much as he’d like to bring you to his room to show you a new paper he found or an interesting artifact in the database, he knows that that would be more for his own satisfaction than for yours.

so for the first time in forever, he begins to spend money on non-essentials. he hates seeing your disappointed face whenever welt and himeko decide to put you on “watch duty” while the others get to explore a new planet. but when he brings you a carefully wrapped box after re-boarding the astral express, your excited expression makes it worth it all.

“what he’d get you this time?” caelus hovers over you as you sit by your desk and unwrap the present dan heng brought you after another long journey. you remember how you tried to give it a shake, only for him to sternly stop you and warn you that “it’s fragile.”

as you rip off the wrapping piece by piece, the branding and colors on the box begin to look awfully familiar. your heart races. surely this isn't... and once it’s revealed, caelus lets out a loud holler and shakes your shoulders out of excitement.

“holy shit! isn’t that the limited edition figurine you were talking about?!”

you can only laugh in disbelief as you hold the box in your hands, your eyes as wide as saucers. you could’ve sworn you had only mentioned it in passing, briefly showing the product page to dan heng and caelus while you sighed about how it was too expensive, too hard to find, yadda yadda yadda…

never in a million years did you have imagine that it would be in your hands, brand new in all its glory. as much as you’d like to ask dan heng a million questions as to why he even bothered to go out of his way to get it, above all, there’s a warm sensation blooming in your chest. “touched” doesn’t even begin to explain how you feel.

and dan heng will deny any efforts he made to the ends of the universe. “it just happened to be there,” he’ll tell you. “i didn’t spend that much money on it, anyways. it was on a very large sale.”

... right...

there are some times, though, when he invites you to the archives in an attempt to share from his “hoard” of knowledge (haha… see what i did there….). he’s well aware that material gifts aren’t enough to swoon someone, much less you. so the best way, he concludes, is to strip his heart bare before you.

those quiet moments are more often than not in the archival rooms, where the only other sound is the gentle hum of the express. some days you might not even speak to each other— simply being alone in the same space is enough for him. not to mention it’s a good opportunity to stare at you, especially when you’re absorbed in a book, a video game, or any other hobby you bring with you.

dan heng always lets you sit in his office chair, opting to ramble on about his recent research findings while leaning against his desk or sitting on the flimsy mattress on the floor that he calls his bed. it was the least he could do, especially since you were probably the only express member willing to sit down and scour the database with him. sure, welt and himeko were willing, too, but he always saw them as a parent figure more than anything— not necessarily a peer.

and you become bolder and more comfortable along with him. you start to curiously snoop through the files in the drawers, ask him all sorts of awful questions (such as “so does that mean you lay eggs?”), and take up all the space on his bed. you rant about anything and everything that comes to mind and try to show him funny videos or memes even though you know he’s not chronically online enough to understand them. (”six… seven…? what?”)

dan heng, on the other hand, begins to turn his dry dismissals into the smallest huffs of laughter. he may not understand all your jokes, but your efforts are amusing enough. his gaze becomes curious as you ramble about any new interest you’ve gained, no doubt preparing for another gift to give if he was sent out again. he starts to sit on his bed with you, albeit starting out by awkwardly sitting on the far opposite end before he can sit any closer.

“thanks again for the figure, by the way,” you mumble as you leaned against the wall, sitting on his mattress and his blanket wrapped over your shoulders. “i almost spent ten thousand credits on that…”

“you’ve thanked me about five times just today,” he remarks, sitting a couple feet away from you, his back against the bookshelf. he begins to fidget with his hand, unsure of how to accept your gratitude. he knows it’s no use to say that “it was nothing.” no, you were too kind for that.

“don’t you want something in return? even if it’s just me owing you lunch?”

dan heng sighs. you were going to pester him about this to no end. he could feel it in his bones.

“what i want is…” he sincerely thinks about it for a moment. for you to be happy. to smile. “to stay safe.”

“stay safe”. it’s what he tells the express crew every time they have to leave the haven of the train. and when on missions, he says it a million times over every day and every hour. it falls from his lips like it’s the easiest thing in the world, even if he means it every time. he can’t deny it’s different with you, though. he needs you safe from your own nightmares, your insecurities, and the mysteries of your past and future. he needs you safe from any and all discomfort, from the doubts that keep you hesitating. but most of all, he needs you safe from his past and the burdens of previous lives. from him.

i’m working on it. i promise.

“c’mon, i already do that,” you reply, rolling your eyes. but still, the words remain stuck in his throat. he watches you yawn, then slowly sink back and roll back down until your back is fully on his mattress, his bunched up blanket serving as a pillow.

right… it’s getting late.

“you should go back to your room,” he gently reminds you. “and actually go to bed soon instead of staying on your computer.”

“mmh… let me close my eyes for a little,” you mumble in response. by that, you probably meant, i have no intentions to leave your bed until i’ve slept to my heart’s content. and just as he thought, you’re softly snoring in mere minutes.

with a barely-there sigh, he scoots over to inspect you and make sure you’re really sleeping. it almost reminds him of when he first found you laying in the hallway of herta’s space station. he feels his own exhaustion growing and soon concedes to it eventually, opting to fully lay on his mattress with you only a few inches away. a part of him wants to reciprocate your gesture of trust— he’s more than aware that you’re not thinking much of it, but he just can’t help it. if you’re willing to be vulnerable, then he’ll live up to that the best he can and return it in kind.

his skin prickles from the warmth emanating from your body and your quiet snores and mumbles become a soothing lullaby to his ears. and that’s more than enough to send him into a gentle slumber alongside you.

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my cia agent watching me do extensive research on how foxes and dragons get their freak on

[eunjining]

the concept of a twilight!au in twst but the reader/yuu as bella, malleus as edward, and leona as jacob...

[eunjining]

❝ first bite ❞

argenti + blade

summary: vampire!au hsr men getting their first taste of your blood

wc: 1.5k

cw: blood (obviously), maybe a little freaky… nothing explicit tho (more specific cws before each section), 16+ please !!!

a/n: NO this was definitely not meant for halloween and NO i definitely didnt procrastinate idk what ur talking about hahahhahahahhahahahaha

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argenti

❝ forgive me, just this once ❞

cw: yearning, implied forbidden romance, suggestive touching, hints of corruption (?), a little messy, religious guilt??? perchance??

the knight gazed up towards you, sitting on the edge of the bed with his larger stature knelt between your legs. gloved hands crept up from your knees and to your thighs, dragging them up to your hips.

years upon years of fighting for chivalry and beauty, and yet all it took was the scent of your blood to be his undoing. argenti had watched his comrades fall to lesser feelings such as greed and ambition, but this… this was a gnawing and raw hunger that he was sure that not even the strongest knights could ever overcome. it was a hunger that pulsed in his body in favor of his own heart and blood. it was crude and base, unfit for a follower of idrila.

but even so, saliva pooled above his tongue and his fangs poked from his barely-parted lips. another pang of hunger pierced his stomach, forcing a shudder out of him as though he had just been struck. with dilated pupils, argenti’s eyes honed in on the thin sheet of skin that veiled your ambrosia, delicate like lace.

“please, I beg you…” he whispered shakily. he swallowed thickly, unable to find what other words to say. whether he was begging you to stop him or to enable him, he wasn’t sure.

“you look like you’re in pain, argenti. I can’t just leave you like this,” you whispered in return as you leaned towards him. your hands tentatively reached for his jaw, your warm palms colliding with the icy skin of his cheeks. he melted beneath your warmth and let out a quivering sigh. ‘pain’ wasn’t even the beginning of the sensations coursing through his veins.

the hands on his jaw gently tugged him closer, closer to your neck. your reassurance was all he needed to let go. that was how weak he truly was.

with a ragged exhale, he tightened his hold on your hips and pulled you towards him until you were barely seated on the edge of your mattress. his lips found your collarbones first, messily pressing themselves onto the very bottom of your neck. though it was hardly a kiss and more akin to a beast marking their prey before tasting its flesh.

argenti dragged his lips up to the side of your neck, leaving behind a trail of spit in their wake. “i apologize, i… i shouldn’t sully your skin like this,” he muttered against your neck as his fangs poked your skin. “forgive me. just this once.”

the tips of his fangs pressed into your neck, your nerves firing as the sharp ends threatened to break the barrier. and then, like a dam bursting, they pierced the thin veil between your bodies. his white, fanged teeth stained red with your blood in the same way his pearl-white hair was dipped in bloodshed all those years ago. his hands clawed at your back, the fabric of your sleepwear crushed beneath his clenched fist. you choked on your own breath at the piercing sensation, your body running hot despite the icy pain.

spare drops of you dripped from his lips and mixed with his saliva as it dried on his chin. the sides of his mouth were smeared with you, much like the dirtied snout of a wolf after feasting on a lamb. ugly. that’s how argenti felt in that moment. he felt idrila’s eyes bearing down on him with shame and disgust. there was no beauty to be found in the act of draining you.

he parted from your neck, but only to hold you by your shoulders and gently push your back onto the bed. he climbed over you intently before smearing a bloody kiss to your jaw.

“may idrila forgive me,” he panted as he lowered himself above you. “and may you forgive me, too.”

with glassy eyes filled with hunger and shame, argenti dipped his head towards the side of your neck once more.

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blade

❝ this is what i get for being selfish ❞ 

cw: internalized shame/guilt, blade accidentally hurts reader, blade gets a little aggressive (teehee)

“tell me to stop,” he whispered roughly. “tell me. now.”

restraint. that’s all blade knew ever since yingxing died within him. he could learn to restrain the mara within him. he could learn to restrain the bloodlust that came with it. he could learn to restrain his anger. he could learn to restrain those shameful instincts that reared its ugly head whenever he was around you.

but even as he hovered above you on the bed, his limbs caging you beneath him and his fangs aching to penetrate your skin, you clung onto him as if he was all that mattered at the moment— and that agitated him more than anything. you’d leave once you felt that rush of pain, he was certain of it. blade was already tattered and worthless as he was. there was no reason for to stay before, much less now.

“this isn’t something you want,” he added. he had to grit his teeth to suppress yet another pained groan.

“i.. i don’t think i want to stop you,” you admitted in a low, shaky whisper.

you felt a broken, ragged exhale against your neck upon that admittance. “it’ll hurt.”

“i know.”

blade could only scoff at that. no one in their right mind would’ve endured him for this long. his restraint had whittled down to a thin rope, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. and all you could do was stare back at him with wide eyes and parted lips.

but that’s all he was, wasn’t he? a selfish brute. a monster who didn’t even have a beating heart, much less a soul. he figured there was no point in trying to be pure, in holding back.

“fine. but don’t regret this.”

that was the last thing he said before he began to nose at your neck as if to map the pulsing blood beneath your skin. you felt his open mouth press against the fragile skin, his fangs cold and sharp like a knife. there were no kisses or warnings— not with blade, never with him.

all rational thoughts drained from his mind. his lips closed around the curve of your neck as a sharp, electric pain struck your body. your lips parted further in a silent scream, your fingers digging further into blade’s shoulders and biceps as you clawed for any semblance of safety. it was all too ironic to him. how could you so desperately seek his comfort when he was the one siphoning your blood? why was it that you called out his name whilst whimpering from the pain he gave you?

blade’s weight pressed onto you further, his strength weakening at the mere taste of you. broken groans echoed against the chamber of your throat. he didn’t even bother breaking apart for air— not like he needed to breathe, anyways. soaked lips smacked against your bloodied skin, the wet muscle of his tongue lapping up the precious ruby drops before they could drip down to your collarbone.

he reached one hand to roughly grab your jaw and tilt it up and further expose the expanse of your throat. like a starved dog, he sucked harshly onto that small opening in your skin. his physical hunger was sated, yes, but there was an underlying instinct that continued to beg for more. his stomach could be filled with anyone’s blood, and yours was no different. however, the hunger in his being and soul was a need only you could fulfill.

but then, your grip on his arms loosened and your limbs began to go limp. realization struck his core, and it was only until then that he mustered up the restraint to tear himself away from you, albeit reluctantly. his hazy vision cleared as he looked down at you again.

“aeons…” your eyes had fluttered shut, your eyebrows cinched together. cold sweat gathered at your brow, your lips moving as you tried to mumble barely-audible words. swallowing his pride, blade gently cradled you against his chest, his bandaged fingers tangling themselves in your hair.

the wound would mystically heal soon, as if it had never been there. your heart would still beat just as strong, and your breaths would even out to a reasonable pace eventually. despite that, he couldn’t shake off the guilt that began to cling to his conscience. this is what i get for being selfish.

but then you managed to cut through his spiraling thoughts. you always did.

it was deathly quiet, save for your shallow, even breaths and the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.

“blade… stay…” those words made him sigh. he should be the one clinging to you, begging for you to stay. he had a lot more reasons to stay than you did. he was selfish. he knew you were better off without him.

“i’ll stay. i always do,” he whispered in return. an unspoken confession hung on his tongue: i’m too selfish to leave, anyways.

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a/n: this might be the closest i ever get to nsfw lol i wanted to write for more characters but i genuinely could not squeeze out anything that i was proud of... better than nothing i suppose??

[eunjining]

❝ first bite ❞

argenti + blade

summary: vampire!au hsr men getting their first taste of your blood

wc: 1.5k

cw: blood (obviously), maybe a little freaky… nothing explicit tho (more specific cws before each section), 16+ please !!!

a/n: NO this was definitely not meant for halloween and NO i definitely didnt procrastinate idk what ur talking about hahahhahahahhahahahaha

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argenti

❝ forgive me, just this once ❞

cw: yearning, implied forbidden romance, suggestive touching, hints of corruption (?), a little messy, religious guilt??? perchance??

the knight gazed up towards you, sitting on the edge of the bed with his larger stature knelt between your legs. gloved hands crept up from your knees and to your thighs, dragging them up to your hips.

years upon years of fighting for chivalry and beauty, and yet all it took was the scent of your blood to be his undoing. argenti had watched his comrades fall to lesser feelings such as greed and ambition, but this… this was a gnawing and raw hunger that he was sure that not even the strongest knights could ever overcome. it was a hunger that pulsed in his body in favor of his own heart and blood. it was crude and base, unfit for a follower of idrila.

but even so, saliva pooled above his tongue and his fangs poked from his barely-parted lips. another pang of hunger pierced his stomach, forcing a shudder out of him as though he had just been struck. with dilated pupils, argenti’s eyes honed in on the thin sheet of skin that veiled your ambrosia, delicate like lace.

“please, I beg you…” he whispered shakily. he swallowed thickly, unable to find what other words to say. whether he was begging you to stop him or to enable him, he wasn’t sure.

“you look like you’re in pain, argenti. I can’t just leave you like this,” you whispered in return as you leaned towards him. your hands tentatively reached for his jaw, your warm palms colliding with the icy skin of his cheeks. he melted beneath your warmth and let out a quivering sigh. ‘pain’ wasn’t even the beginning of the sensations coursing through his veins.

the hands on his jaw gently tugged him closer, closer to your neck. your reassurance was all he needed to let go. that was how weak he truly was.

with a ragged exhale, he tightened his hold on your hips and pulled you towards him until you were barely seated on the edge of your mattress. his lips found your collarbones first, messily pressing themselves onto the very bottom of your neck. though it was hardly a kiss and more akin to a beast marking their prey before tasting its flesh.

argenti dragged his lips up to the side of your neck, leaving behind a trail of spit in their wake. “i apologize, i… i shouldn’t sully your skin like this,” he muttered against your neck as his fangs poked your skin. “forgive me. just this once.”

the tips of his fangs pressed into your neck, your nerves firing as the sharp ends threatened to break the barrier. and then, like a dam bursting, they pierced the thin veil between your bodies. his white, fanged teeth stained red with your blood in the same way his pearl-white hair was dipped in bloodshed all those years ago. his hands clawed at your back, the fabric of your sleepwear crushed beneath his clenched fist. you choked on your own breath at the piercing sensation, your body running hot despite the icy pain.

spare drops of you dripped from his lips and mixed with his saliva as it dried on his chin. the sides of his mouth were smeared with you, much like the dirtied snout of a wolf after feasting on a lamb. ugly. that’s how argenti felt in that moment. he felt idrila’s eyes bearing down on him with shame and disgust. there was no beauty to be found in the act of draining you.

he parted from your neck, but only to hold you by your shoulders and gently push your back onto the bed. he climbed over you intently before smearing a bloody kiss to your jaw.

“may idrila forgive me,” he panted as he lowered himself above you. “and may you forgive me, too.”

with glassy eyes filled with hunger and shame, argenti dipped his head towards the side of your neck once more.

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blade

❝ this is what i get for being selfish ❞ 

cw: internalized shame/guilt, blade accidentally hurts reader, blade gets a little aggressive (teehee)

“tell me to stop,” he whispered roughly. “tell me. now.”

restraint. that’s all blade knew ever since yingxing died within him. he could learn to restrain the mara within him. he could learn to restrain the bloodlust that came with it. he could learn to restrain his anger. he could learn to restrain those shameful instincts that reared its ugly head whenever he was around you.

but even as he hovered above you on the bed, his limbs caging you beneath him and his fangs aching to penetrate your skin, you clung onto him as if he was all that mattered at the moment— and that agitated him more than anything. you’d leave once you felt that rush of pain, he was certain of it. blade was already tattered and worthless as he was. there was no reason for to stay before, much less now.

“this isn’t something you want,” he added. he had to grit his teeth to suppress yet another pained groan.

“i.. i don’t think i want to stop you,” you admitted in a low, shaky whisper.

you felt a broken, ragged exhale against your neck upon that admittance. “it’ll hurt.”

“i know.”

blade could only scoff at that. no one in their right mind would’ve endured him for this long. his restraint had whittled down to a thin rope, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. and all you could do was stare back at him with wide eyes and parted lips.

but that’s all he was, wasn’t he? a selfish brute. a monster who didn’t even have a beating heart, much less a soul. he figured there was no point in trying to be pure, in holding back.

“fine. but don’t regret this.”

that was the last thing he said before he began to nose at your neck as if to map the pulsing blood beneath your skin. you felt his open mouth press against the fragile skin, his fangs cold and sharp like a knife. there were no kisses or warnings— not with blade, never with him.

all rational thoughts drained from his mind. his lips closed around the curve of your neck as a sharp, electric pain struck your body. your lips parted further in a silent scream, your fingers digging further into blade’s shoulders and biceps as you clawed for any semblance of safety. it was all too ironic to him. how could you so desperately seek his comfort when he was the one siphoning your blood? why was it that you called out his name whilst whimpering from the pain he gave you?

blade’s weight pressed onto you further, his strength weakening at the mere taste of you. broken groans echoed against the chamber of your throat. he didn’t even bother breaking apart for air— not like he needed to breathe, anyways. soaked lips smacked against your bloodied skin, the wet muscle of his tongue lapping up the precious ruby drops before they could drip down to your collarbone.

he reached one hand to roughly grab your jaw and tilt it up and further expose the expanse of your throat. like a starved dog, he sucked harshly onto that small opening in your skin. his physical hunger was sated, yes, but there was an underlying instinct that continued to beg for more. his stomach could be filled with anyone’s blood, and yours was no different. however, the hunger in his being and soul was a need only you could fulfill.

but then, your grip on his arms loosened and your limbs began to go limp. realization struck his core, and it was only until then that he mustered up the restraint to tear himself away from you, albeit reluctantly. his hazy vision cleared as he looked down at you again.

“aeons…” your eyes had fluttered shut, your eyebrows cinched together. cold sweat gathered at your brow, your lips moving as you tried to mumble barely-audible words. swallowing his pride, blade gently cradled you against his chest, his bandaged fingers tangling themselves in your hair.

the wound would mystically heal soon, as if it had never been there. your heart would still beat just as strong, and your breaths would even out to a reasonable pace eventually. despite that, he couldn’t shake off the guilt that began to cling to his conscience. this is what i get for being selfish.

but then you managed to cut through his spiraling thoughts. you always did.

it was deathly quiet, save for your shallow, even breaths and the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.

“blade… stay…” those words made him sigh. he should be the one clinging to you, begging for you to stay. he had a lot more reasons to stay than you did. he was selfish. he knew you were better off without him.

“i’ll stay. i always do,” he whispered in return. an unspoken confession hung on his tongue: i’m too selfish to leave, anyways.

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a/n: this might be the closest i ever get to nsfw lol i wanted to write for more characters but i genuinely could not squeeze out anything that i was proud of... better than nothing i suppose??

[khirslana]

˗ˏˋ downtime ˊˎ-

elio, ever their elusive leader, has finally given the stellaron hunters a well-deserved break. with this free time, blade finds himself, once again, at the receiving end of your antics. not once does he complain.

wc: 2.3k

warnings: mentions of self-inflicted bodily harm, brief mentions of branding

; — prefer to read on [ ao3 ] ?

much to the surprise of the group of wanted criminals, there seems to have been a few developments, of sorts, between you and the quietest member of the stellaron hunters. 

neither of you are quite sure as to when it all began. when asked about it, the xianzhou fugitive argues, with little effort, that the notion is baseless and merely another one of their silly ploys to rile him up.

as with many things, he monotonically remarks that these ‘developments’ are something he cares little for—though keener eyes, one pair pink and another pair feline in nature, believe otherwise. 

blade is a wise man. he is well aware that kafka and elio aren’t fooled by his poor excuses. he’s not that fussed about it, in all honesty. they’re far too perceptive, and he has never been interested in playing such mind games.

he lets the two poke and prod as they please, just as he allows the current situation at hand to unfold. it happens more often than he’d like to admit, you absentmindedly playing with his fingers as you both go about doing your own separate things.

under the rising veil of dawn, you sit on blade’s left scrolling on your phone whilst he rests his weary eyes, simply soaking in the peace that envelopes the dimly-lit living area as you both lounge on the plush couch. there are no scripts to follow today, not for him or for you. no missions nor tasks that require either his or your attention. 

perhaps it’s the girls' turn to handle things. blade wonders, offhandedly, which poor victim is at the current mercy of kafka’s deception; which unfortunate system is being intercepted by silver wolf’s crafty schemes, or the hapless soul facing the formidable and unyielding steel of SAM in the same way he once did. 

or, maybe elio has finally deemed it time for the hunters to unwind. blade's not too sure. he's not entirely privy to these things, not that he particularly cares for the minor intricacies of elio’s schedules. 

it's still, for once—his mind. as calm as the freshly-made teas that sit in a matching set of porcelain teacups on the coffee table situated across you both, a golden amber. their aroma blends seamlessly into the air and wraps around his senses like a soothing balm of herbs and spices. 

it dawns on him, then, that it looks like you’ve chosen his preferred flavour for both his and your drinks. chamomile tea, with hints of cinnamon and nutmeg for that signature earthy kick he once mentioned he liked a very long time ago.

there are no ripples on the liquids' surface. no maddening whispers festering deep within the swordsman's thoughts like rot. no sickening urge to slice, maim, and hack away at his body until little remains, just to watch the cursed flesh knit and stitch itself back together like he was some torn and abandoned tapestry of scars.

upon further reflection, blade finds that the intense want to rend himself until he is far beyond recognition, if only for a temporary moment of respite, has dulled. 

the abundance would drag him back, anyway. it always does.

for now, at least, the incessant depravities have come to a halt. it’s a bitter sort of alleviation, an occasion so rare that it heightens the man’s fleeting relief. 

in the silence of the living room, blade only registers the feeling of your fingers, warm and familiar, as they dance along the pallid skin of his own. gentle plucks and soft flicks, all yours as you paw and tug at him.

you grace him with light touches that have his fingertips curling back upwards once you part from the limb, only for you to repeat the same motions after a beat. not a single digit on his open palm goes neglected.

nothing of his ever does, really. not with you. it’s an old observation, something that still perplexes him to this day.  

you give the pads of his fingers a press every now and then. or two, or three, or five—there's no particular pattern that you follow, blade has noticed. they vary in length, too. some squeezes last for less than a second, whilst the man has counted up to three for others. and every now and then, when he cracks a single, tired lid open, he catches the small upwards curve of your lips. 

there's that telling glint in your eye when he trails his gaze higher up your face. blade recognises it almost instantly. it’s one that shines through and illuminates your irises when you find something particularly… amusing. you must be so, then.

as he predicted, something on your phone makes you chuckle. it's a soft huff that makes your chest heave just slightly, and only once. your grip on his index finger tightens ever so slightly at the movement, lips drawing to a wider grin as you squish at him. 

and, oh. aeons. 

you’re warm when you touch him like this—a belated realisation when you’ve been going at this for the better part of an hour.

your smooth skin sears him, almost as if branding him with your very own fingerprint. the heat scorches his flesh, yet blade remains pliant beneath you. the bristled warnings and clipped threats he so often bares at others who have the guts to enter his personal space lay dormant in his throat.

a small part of him wishes you would. brand him with your mark, he means… 

maybe. he doesn’t know. would the abundance rob him of that, too? 

he dwells on the action for a moment too long, regrettably finding the added pressure on his pad to be a nice sensation. the hunter can detect the faintest trace of your pulse through the hold as you continue to fuss over his limb.

steady, and so very yours. 

his chest feels funny when he focuses on the area. always that strange, funny feeling with you. 

blade shuts his eye once again, breathes in deep, and sighs. it's not a heavy sound. the breath passes through his nose deliberately. unhurried, and barely audible.

a bandaged thumb hovers in the air for just a second before it begins to ghost over the surface of your own. hesitation, perhaps. practiced caution.

its owner trails it up and down in a leisurely manner—a touch so featherlight that you barely register the contact until his warmth slowly bleeds into your skin. soaks into it, even. down to your bones and deeper still.

it's enough to have your gaze flit towards your hands, then to his face, and back to your hands again to the thumb caressing yours. there's a unique texture to the feeling, rather characteristic of the man, as he glides over you. you figure it’s likely due to the cloth wound securely around his digit. his traces leave gentle tingles in their wake, a sensation that leaves you wondering if he feels it, too. 

moments pass in unbroken silence. you count the beats with the thumps of your heart. he does not cease even after you’ve stalled your breathing, half wary that he’d stop if you move an inch as though he were some skittish little creature.

you know he isn’t.

it seems there's something... different about him today. barely, but you sense it nonetheless.

blade looks just as he did when you both first settled onto the couch, if not a little less tense—less severe. his shoulders are no longer hunched. the frown on his lips has faded, replaced by a neutral, straight line. dark and long lashes splay prettily against his porcelain cheeks, and the usual furrow to his brows is nowhere to be found. 

it's a rare sight that you truly can't help but bask in. so, you drink him in like a steaming cup of tea, as if he were your favourite blend. the ones on the coffee table aren’t as appealing to you, for some reason. they remain untouched and undisturbed.

he doesn’t seem to notice your lingering stare. at least, you don’t think he does. blade has a knack for sensing such things even when his vision is obscured. perhaps he does know about your blatant gawking, maybe he doesn’t mind. hopefully.

you pause, then, and quietly lower the hand that holds your phone. it settles on your lap with the screen facing down. never one to miss even a single miniscule movement of yours, the stellaron hunter finally halts his ministrations and raises his lids to reveal the gems that lie beneath them.

such pretty things they are, his eyes. sharp, red and glowing. they hone onto your smiling visage first, and blade swiftly notes how your grin has mellowed into something else. something more sincere, more genuine.

his gaze darts towards the small device laid flat on your lap before settling over your own once more—a question. curious. you hold his eyes, listening. he does not miss your attentiveness.

it’s at this point when you take your first gulp of air. your lungs, burning now, sigh in gratitude.

when the silence stretches over for a moment longer, evidence that the man beside you will not temper his piqued interest, you begin to languidly thread your fingers together before tugging them towards you so that they hover just before your lips.

you are met with no resistance, intertwined, and close. close enough that he can feel your breaths washing over him in small puffs.

blade is malleable in your hands as you stop momentarily to watch him. you aren’t too surprised, somehow. he does not pull away even as you begin inching even closer towards him with growing confidence, all the while keeping your eyes locked onto his. 

a faint noise cuts through the air at the motion. one so brief that it almost goes undetected. 

it’s not yours. his. 

however, blade does not turn away. his full attention remains on you, daring and resolute. you click your tongue. he must be sure, then.

further encouraged by the swordmaster’s burning, unwavering stare, you finally drop your gaze. with a downwards tilt of your head, you close the small gap and plant your lips with a certain firmness onto each and every one of his curled fingers. his thumb is lavished first, his index following soon in succession. 

one by one, and with purpose, you bless each of his worn knuckles—an answer. one that seems to gratify the silent man if the huff he lets out at the plush, heated sensations is anything to go by. 

you’re not quite sure who you are indulging by lingering slightly before every next kiss. not once does blade stop you, even as you tilt and adjust his hand so that not even a single patch of his skin remains wanting.

it’s sickening, this weird, foreign feeling. whatever it is fills him with the urge to tear himself away from you in order to put a stop to this. he doesn’t, though. in fact, against his better judgement, blade finds himself holding onto you tighter and in a manner so subtle that you very nearly miss it. the jerkiness of it gives him away.

he lets you take, and take, and take to your heart's content. blade gives it to you—gives himself to you—though it’s not as if he isn’t receiving anything in return. if anything, you’re just as generous a benefactor as he is, warming his cold fingers like this.

it’s only once you’ve thoroughly pampered each one of his digits twice over that you begin to gradually raise your head. when you look at him, really look at him this time, you find that his eyes are half lidded and his lips are parted ever so slightly. 

blade watches you. sees and observes your every move. something swirls in his carmine depths—the trace melts seamlessly into his bright, orange hues—but you don’t recognise it as mara beginning its rotten spread.

no, what you’re able to discern from his crimson jewels is far too reverent. the vague expression he’s wearing, pointed directly at you, is far too tender, too understanding, and far too pleased. 

you fail to notice that you mirror that same glow. 

neither of you dare to put a name to whatever this is, but… it’s nice. your companion reckons he wouldn’t exactly mind if you were to remain this way for just a little while longer, palm to palm, fingers interlocked and grasping.

that feeling in his chest has grown noticeably now. it’s as grounding as it is overwhelming, chipping away at him like this. feels like it's crushing him. blade hums, a gravelly purr, as he blinks at you slowly. 

“satisfied?”

a second ticks. then, “no,” you speak truthfully. the reply comes easily, your voice having grown so evidently shameless to his accustomed ears. there’s this quality to your tone that he can’t help but pick up on. “not quite yet.”

an idea. a plan.

hints of mirth, imperceptible to the untrained eye, dance along the planes of blade’s handsome face at your quip, as if already knowing where things are going. this tentative dance that you’ve both gradually choreographed throughout your time spent together is more than familiar to him now. 

he knows. he’s certain, even, of the following steps like it’s muscle memory. like it’s instinctive and ingrained into his being, almost, but not in a way that was carved into him against his will or without his consent.

this tired, old soul knows that feeling well. you are not like that. not at all. for that, and for many a number of different reasons he struggles to come to terms with, he is grateful.

blade has half the mind to slide his one glove off. you have yet to tend to his other hand, after all. he reasons—rather quickly—that it merely saves you the hassle of having to do it yourself… assuming that is your intention, of course, and that he isn’t misreading you. 

never mind that faint eagerness blossoming somewhere in his core.

[ published on 23/07/25 ]

[eunjining]

❝ who fell first, who fell harder ❞

sunday + blade + aventurine

summary: who fell first, and who fell harder?

cws will be added before each section !!

word count: 2k ish total

a/n: back out of my dungeon! i tried writing this prompt in a more "unconventional" way if that makes sense ?? i like it, idk... i wanted to write for more characters but i couldn't come up w any ideas i loved, i hope this is still enough 😓

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sunday : you fell first, he fell harder

❝ for once, he didn’t feel the need to control. ❞

cw: yearning

no one could’ve blamed you for falling for sunday.

when you shook your head no, he scooted over on the piano bench and patted the empty space beside him. you carefully sat on the bench, your heart jumping when his knee bumped against yours. his right hand reached over and covered yours before guiding each of your fingers on each key. every gloved finger lay perfectly atop yours, the warmth of his hand melting through the soft fabric and into your skin.

he was gentle, beautiful, and with a demeanor that invited tranquility all around him. he was the image of purest grace and elegance despite his silent struggle to piece back his shattered identity following his fall from penacony. out of all the places he could’ve landed though, he landed in the astral express, and that was a silver lining that shined brighter than any dark cloud. you loved his stories from penacony. you loved the way his wings fluttered whenever he felt shy. and gosh, you loved the tentative yet excited smile that graced his lips whenever fetched him his favorite childhood desserts from penacony.

and as the second-worst insomniac (behind the trailblazer), you often caught sunday practicing the piano in the dead of night, his fingers pressing softly into the keys as to not wake the others. the wings behind his ears fluttered when he noticed that you’d been watching, and you swore your heart did the same. but over time, he had grown to prefer your presence. he liked your impressed expressions and the quiet applause you’d give him after every song.

“ah… forgive me, i’m still rather rusty on my skills,” he said softly one night, a sheepish smile on his lips. you would’ve thought he just finished a horrid performance, but it was quite the opposite. you wondered just how elaborate the pieces he played in his childhood must’ve been if he thought that was bad. “do you know how to play, by any chance?”

“here, this is the first note in the octave, ‘C,’” he whispered as his thumb pressed on yours, the key producing a low note. his index finger then pressed against yours, and a slightly higher note played. “and that’s ‘D.’”

you swallowed thickly and quickly realized that you might not be able to pay attention when his hand was ever so gently placed over yours. but even so, you diligently listened to his advice and practiced your form with precision for the following moments. when you glanced back up at sunday, a small but impressed smile was blooming on his face. how you didn’t wet the piano keys with your own palm sweat was beyond you.

“you’re quite a natural. i couldn’t master basic finger exercises until after two weeks i began learning,” he remarked, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “maybe you’ll learn full songs very soon.”

from that night on, it was routine— his gloved hands guiding yours, your shoulders brushing ever so slightly, and your feet accidentally bumping when learning how to use the pedals.

sunday never admitted it for a while, but your presence was a balm to the wounds and scars still aching in his heart. in his fractured mind where memories felt like burdens, your mundane routine together kept him grounded. he could loosely hold your hand and not fear that it would slip away. for once, he didn’t feel the need to control.

after all, he couldn’t control the tremble in his wings whenever you smiled at him so proudly after flawlessly finishing an exercise. he couldn’t control the way his mind wandered to what it would sound like if you were to sing while playing the piano, if your voice would be as enchanting as the charmony doves from his childhood home. he couldn't control the way he yearned to feel your skin, eventually abandoning his gloves in favor of feeling his palm against the back of your hand, his fingertips gently resting atop your knuckles as they pressed the keys in your stead.

the once great and powerful sunday no longer dreamed of a grand aeonhood, sacrifice, or an eternal paradise. now, he dreamed of playing a duet with you, your voices aligned in harmony.

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blade : he fell first, he fell harder

❝ like it was euphoric, like it was a fetish. ❞

cw: physical fighting, implied enemies to .... something ?, mentions of blood, choking (??), freaky undertones, maybe ooc

“hah… too slow.” blade’s sword roughly pressed in towards your throat, your only defense being the weapon of your own.

“you’ve got some nerve wandering around the luofu like you own the place when you’re wanted,” you retorted. matter of fact, a ‘wanted criminal’ poster with his face was plastered only a few feet beside you on the wall of the alleyway the two of you were stuck in. his bounty rose even higher than the last time you saw him, it seemed.

today marked about the hundredth time you and blade had encountered each other. each time, it resulted in the clash between your fists, weapons, words, and feelings. blade always drew out the fights, holding back and smiling sadistically as he watched you struggle. he fell and rose over and over again in battle just to see the way your brows knit closer together in irritation. he’d hit you where it hurt because he loved when you clicked your tongue or groaned out of frustration. he’d laugh whenever you managed to pierce his skin like it was euphoric, like it was a fetish.

and now, he had you cornered once again. his mind raced— should he hold you here? let you push him off? would you kick and regain the upper hand? or maybe this time you had a new trick up your sleeve?

his train of thought was interrupted, though, by the muffled buzzing of the phone in his pocket. that was supposed to be his signal to hide or leave.

“why, is kafka calling for backup? you know you’re nothing but her lapdog, right?” you grit out with a scoff.

then suddenly, he threw his sword to the ground. after twisting your arm and pressing it to the wall behind you, he replaced his weapon with his arm, pressing you further back with his forearm against your neck. not hard enough to make your breaths ragged, but hard enough to keep you where he wanted.

“i’m no one’s lapdog, especially not kafka’s,” he whispered dangerously, his cold breath kissing your lips. “soldiers are near. you’re also wanted, aren’t you?”

blade tore off the poster hung on the alleyway wall and suddenly planted both hands on either side of your head, hunched over you with his entire body covering yours. you were about to protest before you heard the faint footsteps of soldiers approaching closer and closer, then quickly caught on to what he was trying to do.

“shit… you better not make noise.” blade leaned in closer, the tip of his nose bumping against yours. your breaths mixed, hot against cold. his bangs tickled your cheek, his breaths quickening with anticipation. you saw molten gold swirl in his red eyes like lava, his gaze darting between all your features. your eyes were different, alive. alive with pupils that dilated and contracted with life, the same way your lungs did with every breath. he wanted to know if your heart was hammering at that moment. if his heart would do the same, if he had one. if you’d take the bait and close the miniscule distance between your lips, or if you were still a coward.

blade’s eyes dragged from your eyes to your lips, then back to your eyes. your throat went dry. your grip on your weapon loosened, your fingers going numb. your own heartbeat thudded in your ears, and you hated knowing that he could hear it all. from this distance, this short distance where you could count the individual lashes framing his eyes, he seemed more human than monster. and that scared you more than anything.

the soldiers shuffled by without a second glance. once they were out of sight, blade let out a ragged sigh while you backed away from him. you sighed as well, but out of relief rather than disappointment. he watched you regain your grip on your weapon before fleeing the scene, likely to alert whatever fellow comrades you had that soldiers were active in the area now.

blade picked up with sword from the ground and huffed. the warmth of your breath clung to his cheeks like dust clung to untouched relics.

“perhaps next time.”

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aventurine : he fell first, you fell harder

❝ you’re a dealer, aren’t you? give me your worst starting hand. ❞

cw: gambling, dealer! reader, allusions to angst

“this guy’s gotta be cheating!”

“gah, we’ve had enough of this…”

several of the gamblers that had joined aventurine at the poker table were now storming off, huffing and puffing after having lost for the umpteenth time. he merely shrugged and began to count the enormous pile of chips in his section with a cool expression. the buzz of the casino continued around him, but the stark silence that rang in his ears was sobering. aventurine tried to lose on purpose this time, he really did. just to see if his luck had changed, but perhaps secretly in hopes that he’d get to retain any semblance of company.

“are you done here, sir? i can help you collect the money if you’re ready.” the voice of an employee tore him away from his ruminations, almost making him flinch. he glanced up and saw you— the same uniform and hairdo as all the other dealers, but with features still pronounced and eye-catching. soft eyes, pretty nose, hell, even the slight curve of your lips…

damn. you’re pretty. maybe even prettier than himself.

his throat went a little dry as he realized he had been staring at you for a split moment too long.

“hmm, i’m still itching for another round, actually…” he managed to reply with feigned nonchalance. “a pity nobody here likes my company.”

you chuckled as you began to collect the chips and stack them into neat little towers. he prayed to the aeons that that was a genuine, warm smile and not a ‘i’m-an-employee-here-and-this-is-my-customer-service-smile’ smile. “i don’t blame them, sir. your luck has always been unusual. but if you don’t have any gamemates, you’re always free to try the slots or other solo games while we prepare your prize.”

“how about a game with me?” he asked a little too quickly, unintentionally sounding too desperate for his liking. “no bets attached. i’m a VIP here, so i’m sure you won’t get in trouble for resting your feet and having a seat with a treasured patron.”

when he saw you hesitate for a moment, he grabbed a spare dice from the table and let it roll loosely in his palm. “how about this: you stay if this rolls a one, or you get to return to work if this rolls any other number.”

his gloved hand clenched tightly around the dice, knowing full well that he’d win these slim odds just like he always had. but his hand still trembled anyways.

he let the dice roll and clatter onto the table— one.

“oho! today’s my lucky day, eh?” he drawled, quickly retreating his hand to hide how clammy his palm was.

you playfully rolled your eyes and pulled a chair to sit beside him, deciding to play along with his whims. “every day’s your lucky day, sir.”

“drop the sir, aventurine will do,” he gently corrected you. “and you’re a dealer, aren’t you? give me your worst starting hand. if i still win, you have to share a drink with me next.”

you laughed and shook your head. he laughed along with you, knowing damn well you were laughing because he was being more ridiculous than smooth. but as ridiculous he seemed, aventurine had that pull you couldn’t deny. behind his tinted sunglasses, gaudy outfit, and million-credit smile, a goofy boyish charm lay hidden like diamonds amidst dirt. most gamblers treated you like a doormat, yelling after a game or barking out nasty remarks when your day was already at its worst.

aventurine was gentle, giving you slight teasing nudges and pointing out which card in your hand would be best to put down at your turn. how’d he know, anyways? it didn’t matter though, of course.

he won anyways.

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"blade isn't my fav character" i say to myself as i write him the freakiest out of everyone

[eunjining]

❝ who fell first, who fell harder ❞

sunday + blade + aventurine

summary: who fell first, and who fell harder?

cws will be added before each section !!

word count: 2k ish total

a/n: back out of my dungeon! i tried writing this prompt in a more "unconventional" way if that makes sense ?? i like it, idk... i wanted to write for more characters but i couldn't come up w any ideas i loved, i hope this is still enough 😓

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sunday : you fell first, he fell harder

❝ for once, he didn’t feel the need to control. ❞

cw: yearning

no one could’ve blamed you for falling for sunday.

when you shook your head no, he scooted over on the piano bench and patted the empty space beside him. you carefully sat on the bench, your heart jumping when his knee bumped against yours. his right hand reached over and covered yours before guiding each of your fingers on each key. every gloved finger lay perfectly atop yours, the warmth of his hand melting through the soft fabric and into your skin.

he was gentle, beautiful, and with a demeanor that invited tranquility all around him. he was the image of purest grace and elegance despite his silent struggle to piece back his shattered identity following his fall from penacony. out of all the places he could’ve landed though, he landed in the astral express, and that was a silver lining that shined brighter than any dark cloud. you loved his stories from penacony. you loved the way his wings fluttered whenever he felt shy. and gosh, you loved the tentative yet excited smile that graced his lips whenever fetched him his favorite childhood desserts from penacony.

and as the second-worst insomniac (behind the trailblazer), you often caught sunday practicing the piano in the dead of night, his fingers pressing softly into the keys as to not wake the others. the wings behind his ears fluttered when he noticed that you’d been watching, and you swore your heart did the same. but over time, he had grown to prefer your presence. he liked your impressed expressions and the quiet applause you’d give him after every song.

“ah… forgive me, i’m still rather rusty on my skills,” he said softly one night, a sheepish smile on his lips. you would’ve thought he just finished a horrid performance, but it was quite the opposite. you wondered just how elaborate the pieces he played in his childhood must’ve been if he thought that was bad. “do you know how to play, by any chance?”

“here, this is the first note in the octave, ‘C,’” he whispered as his thumb pressed on yours, the key producing a low note. his index finger then pressed against yours, and a slightly higher note played. “and that’s ‘D.’”

you swallowed thickly and quickly realized that you might not be able to pay attention when his hand was ever so gently placed over yours. but even so, you diligently listened to his advice and practiced your form with precision for the following moments. when you glanced back up at sunday, a small but impressed smile was blooming on his face. how you didn’t wet the piano keys with your own palm sweat was beyond you.

“you’re quite a natural. i couldn’t master basic finger exercises until after two weeks i began learning,” he remarked, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “maybe you’ll learn full songs very soon.”

from that night on, it was routine— his gloved hands guiding yours, your shoulders brushing ever so slightly, and your feet accidentally bumping when learning how to use the pedals.

sunday never admitted it for a while, but your presence was a balm to the wounds and scars still aching in his heart. in his fractured mind where memories felt like burdens, your mundane routine together kept him grounded. he could loosely hold your hand and not fear that it would slip away. for once, he didn’t feel the need to control.

after all, he couldn’t control the tremble in his wings whenever you smiled at him so proudly after flawlessly finishing an exercise. he couldn’t control the way his mind wandered to what it would sound like if you were to sing while playing the piano, if your voice would be as enchanting as the charmony doves from his childhood home. he couldn't control the way he yearned to feel your skin, eventually abandoning his gloves in favor of feeling his palm against the back of your hand, his fingertips gently resting atop your knuckles as they pressed the keys in your stead.

the once great and powerful sunday no longer dreamed of a grand aeonhood, sacrifice, or an eternal paradise. now, he dreamed of playing a duet with you, your voices aligned in harmony.

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blade : he fell first, he fell harder

❝ like it was euphoric, like it was a fetish. ❞

cw: physical fighting, implied enemies to .... something ?, mentions of blood, choking (??), freaky undertones, maybe ooc

“hah… too slow.” blade’s sword roughly pressed in towards your throat, your only defense being the weapon of your own.

“you’ve got some nerve wandering around the luofu like you own the place when you’re wanted,” you retorted. matter of fact, a ‘wanted criminal’ poster with his face was plastered only a few feet beside you on the wall of the alleyway the two of you were stuck in. his bounty rose even higher than the last time you saw him, it seemed.

today marked about the hundredth time you and blade had encountered each other. each time, it resulted in the clash between your fists, weapons, words, and feelings. blade always drew out the fights, holding back and smiling sadistically as he watched you struggle. he fell and rose over and over again in battle just to see the way your brows knit closer together in irritation. he’d hit you where it hurt because he loved when you clicked your tongue or groaned out of frustration. he’d laugh whenever you managed to pierce his skin like it was euphoric, like it was a fetish.

and now, he had you cornered once again. his mind raced— should he hold you here? let you push him off? would you kick and regain the upper hand? or maybe this time you had a new trick up your sleeve?

his train of thought was interrupted, though, by the muffled buzzing of the phone in his pocket. that was supposed to be his signal to hide or leave.

“why, is kafka calling for backup? you know you’re nothing but her lapdog, right?” you grit out with a scoff.

then suddenly, he threw his sword to the ground. after twisting your arm and pressing it to the wall behind you, he replaced his weapon with his arm, pressing you further back with his forearm against your neck. not hard enough to make your breaths ragged, but hard enough to keep you where he wanted.

“i’m no one’s lapdog, especially not kafka’s,” he whispered dangerously, his cold breath kissing your lips. “soldiers are near. you’re also wanted, aren’t you?”

blade tore off the poster hung on the alleyway wall and suddenly planted both hands on either side of your head, hunched over you with his entire body covering yours. you were about to protest before you heard the faint footsteps of soldiers approaching closer and closer, then quickly caught on to what he was trying to do.

“shit… you better not make noise.” blade leaned in closer, the tip of his nose bumping against yours. your breaths mixed, hot against cold. his bangs tickled your cheek, his breaths quickening with anticipation. you saw molten gold swirl in his red eyes like lava, his gaze darting between all your features. your eyes were different, alive. alive with pupils that dilated and contracted with life, the same way your lungs did with every breath. he wanted to know if your heart was hammering at that moment. if his heart would do the same, if he had one. if you’d take the bait and close the miniscule distance between your lips, or if you were still a coward.

blade’s eyes dragged from your eyes to your lips, then back to your eyes. your throat went dry. your grip on your weapon loosened, your fingers going numb. your own heartbeat thudded in your ears, and you hated knowing that he could hear it all. from this distance, this short distance where you could count the individual lashes framing his eyes, he seemed more human than monster. and that scared you more than anything.

the soldiers shuffled by without a second glance. once they were out of sight, blade let out a ragged sigh while you backed away from him. you sighed as well, but out of relief rather than disappointment. he watched you regain your grip on your weapon before fleeing the scene, likely to alert whatever fellow comrades you had that soldiers were active in the area now.

blade picked up with sword from the ground and huffed. the warmth of your breath clung to his cheeks like dust clung to untouched relics.

“perhaps next time.”

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aventurine : he fell first, you fell harder

❝ you’re a dealer, aren’t you? give me your worst starting hand. ❞

cw: gambling, dealer! reader, allusions to angst

“this guy’s gotta be cheating!”

“gah, we’ve had enough of this…”

several of the gamblers that had joined aventurine at the poker table were now storming off, huffing and puffing after having lost for the umpteenth time. he merely shrugged and began to count the enormous pile of chips in his section with a cool expression. the buzz of the casino continued around him, but the stark silence that rang in his ears was sobering. aventurine tried to lose on purpose this time, he really did. just to see if his luck had changed, but perhaps secretly in hopes that he’d get to retain any semblance of company.

“are you done here, sir? i can help you collect the money if you’re ready.” the voice of an employee tore him away from his ruminations, almost making him flinch. he glanced up and saw you— the same uniform and hairdo as all the other dealers, but with features still pronounced and eye-catching. soft eyes, pretty nose, hell, even the slight curve of your lips…

damn. you’re pretty. maybe even prettier than himself.

his throat went a little dry as he realized he had been staring at you for a split moment too long.

“hmm, i’m still itching for another round, actually…” he managed to reply with feigned nonchalance. “a pity nobody here likes my company.”

you chuckled as you began to collect the chips and stack them into neat little towers. he prayed to the aeons that that was a genuine, warm smile and not a ‘i’m-an-employee-here-and-this-is-my-customer-service-smile’ smile. “i don’t blame them, sir. your luck has always been unusual. but if you don’t have any gamemates, you’re always free to try the slots or other solo games while we prepare your prize.”

“how about a game with me?” he asked a little too quickly, unintentionally sounding too desperate for his liking. “no bets attached. i’m a VIP here, so i’m sure you won’t get in trouble for resting your feet and having a seat with a treasured patron.”

when he saw you hesitate for a moment, he grabbed a spare dice from the table and let it roll loosely in his palm. “how about this: you stay if this rolls a one, or you get to return to work if this rolls any other number.”

his gloved hand clenched tightly around the dice, knowing full well that he’d win these slim odds just like he always had. but his hand still trembled anyways.

he let the dice roll and clatter onto the table— one.

“oho! today’s my lucky day, eh?” he drawled, quickly retreating his hand to hide how clammy his palm was.

you playfully rolled your eyes and pulled a chair to sit beside him, deciding to play along with his whims. “every day’s your lucky day, sir.”

“drop the sir, aventurine will do,” he gently corrected you. “and you’re a dealer, aren’t you? give me your worst starting hand. if i still win, you have to share a drink with me next.”

you laughed and shook your head. he laughed along with you, knowing damn well you were laughing because he was being more ridiculous than smooth. but as ridiculous he seemed, aventurine had that pull you couldn’t deny. behind his tinted sunglasses, gaudy outfit, and million-credit smile, a goofy boyish charm lay hidden like diamonds amidst dirt. most gamblers treated you like a doormat, yelling after a game or barking out nasty remarks when your day was already at its worst.

aventurine was gentle, giving you slight teasing nudges and pointing out which card in your hand would be best to put down at your turn. how’d he know, anyways? it didn’t matter though, of course.

he won anyways.

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"blade isn't my fav character" i say to myself as i write him the freakiest out of everyone

[tonycries]

To Have Your Eyes - T.F.

Synopsis. Toji Fushiguro - strong, hot, and your steadfast personal knight. And his duty to the crown means that Toji should…help the princess he’s always loved with obtaining an heir, right? Right?

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!princess!reader, knight!Toji, ROYAL AU, childhood-friends-to-Iovers, arranged marriage, Naoya gets NTR-d, PlNING, oraI (fem rec.), spítting, improper uses of armor, thigh ríding, dry húmping, matíng presses, BRÉEDING, dúmbifícation, marathons, D slipping, he’s BIG, size kínk, tummy buIges, cúmflation, slight exhíbitionísm, forbidden Iove, not actually unrequited, Undressed by Sombr references, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 11.1k (wow)

A/N. TO HAVE THE EYES OF THE GIRL I WON’T FORGEEET-

“Q-quite a grand affair- wasn’t it, sir?”

Toji lets out a gruff, noncommittal grunt in response, seconds away from rolling his damn eyes as he listens to the newly-stationed recruit babble on and on about ‘seeing a royal wedding up close.’

Toji Fushiguro has always known that he didn’t deserve you - no one did. 

No prince, nor duke, but particularly not that prissy, pompous Zenin heir you’d supposedly been betrothed to since birth. What was his name-

“Naoya!”

Ah, yes. Toji’s scarred lips curl when he watches the prince slam the staggering mahogany doors of your royal room open, stomping down the winding hallway in all his sour-faced glory. Not quite Prince Charming if you asked him. 

“Ijichi-” He sends a sharp nod to the bespectacled knight, signalling him to follow the heir. As much as he hated the brat, it wouldn’t do to widow you so soon- especially not on your wedding night. 

And with that, Toji goes where it’s most important - to you. 

As the metallic padding of his armor clanked! with each determined step, so did the ringing thought that if anything - absolutely anything - had happened to you, he would kill that damn Zenin boy. Prince or not. 

Treason or not. 

He didn’t climb and elbow and fight his way through the ranks of knights to become your very own personal guard for nothing. From the very moment he’d met you, his duty was to you. 

As was his heart.

Though, that last sentiment didn’t matter much - not when he was nothing but your lowly protector. 

Completely out of place in the decadent, dimly-lit chamber of your bedroom; it was sprawling, and the entire Keep where knights slept would take up about only half the size of your chamber. It was obvious that this place was readied for the newly-wed couple - a faint mist of flowery fragrance clouding the air, white sheets so sheer that they looked like phantoms fluttering in the moonlight, and you.

You, seated on the center of your plush mattress, still dolled-up in your gauzy ivory wedding dress. Looking as angelic as ever- though, when have you not?

To Toji, it was routine to snap his jade eyes away from whom he never could have. 

Throat slightly rusty with hoarseness as he whispers, “My princess?” Before shaking his head free of any more of those stupid notions of ‘his.’ “You alright, princess? Must I slay a haughty royal neck tonight?”

That, at the very least, seemed to get a watery chuckle out of you as he’d wickedly hoped. Then you’re finally turning-

And oh, Toji thinks he might do very well to fulfill his promise of bringing you the head of your so-called new husband.

Because right there - in the corner of your gorgeous face that he’d grown up admiring through every year, every emotion - was a singular, silvery tear track. Glittering in the rays of moon, Toji can’t stop himself from the way his body viscerally wrenches a step forward-

-before you hastily wipe away the evidence of your sorrow before he can. Fighting to keep your sweet voice even, “Oh, don’t bother, Toji. Naoya just seems to be having a…bad day?”

He narrows his eyes- you were unhurt, at the bare minimum. Though, that won’t stop him from bribing the kitchen staff into overloading that damn Naoya’s meals with a bucket of salt from now onwards.

“Tch, the worst date to have a ‘bad day’. Don’tcha think, princess?”

“You’re telling me.” Throwing your hands up in exasperation, the silky sleeves of your wedding dress ripple as you huff. And Toji takes a few guilty moments to memorize the vision, one he never thought he would see. 

It’s only with how long you two had known each other that you’re not bothering with any plastic court manners as you pull your knees to your chest. Groaning in quite an unlady-like way, “And all because I simply asked him to help me take these damn laces off-”

“The bastard ran out because of that?” Toji suddenly interrupts, jaw slightly sagging as he dares to take a peek at the mass of ribbons and strings knitting the back of your stuffy dress together. 

Honestly- years in the royal palace and he still didn’t understand what it was with you people and these damn layers. 

Your embarrassed silence was enough of an answer, and Toji’s bowing. “If I may-” Letting his gloves drop to the polished marble floor with a clunk! “No, I will if he won’t. Turn around.”

Slightly yelping, you’re letting yourself be tugged closer to the edge of the bed once Toji walks his way ‘round. Gruff, grouchy, and yet he was still making gentle work with your frilly back - unplucking you free, one by one. 

“He said this was a woman’s work.” You sigh over the whoosh–! of creamy white ribbons being loosened from your outer corset. Lips twitching, “And I asked him if he’d rather I spent my wedding night with a woman, then.”

“Ya think? Anyone would be better than that pig-headed, brutish, fucking-”

“Language, Sir Toji.”

“Tch.” 

As the last of your stringy restraints are untied, you have to bite back a moan at the roughened padding of Toji’s fingertips. Dexterous digits digging into where your muscles were tender from being cooped up like this all day, “You’re…surprisingly talented at this- practiced much, Toji?”

“Been watching you get dressed since I came to this palace, princess, don’t underestimate me.” He’s growling, and if the very tips of his ears burned at the thought of being the one undressing you - on your wedding night, of all things - then, well, he’s only glad the flickering chamber candles were too dim for you to tell. 

“O-oh shut up.” You’re scoffing at the way Toji leers. Eyes darting anywhere but his and falling on- ah, your bed.

Your very un-mussed, very un-desecrated bed. 

“Oh.”

Toji perks alert instantly, “Did I hurt-”

“No no–” Waving him off, “It’s just…the bed.” And as his face tilts in confusion, you feel a slight twinge of envy at the way he wasn’t aware of this particular royal custom. 

Sighing, you pinch the plain sheets between your fingers. “The sheets- tomorrow morning, the courts will check and see that the marriage hasn’t been consummated. Of course, they’ll blame me for not trying hard enough to secure an heir. And I don’t trust my lovely husband to be over with his tantrum by then, so…”

Oh.

Oh.

The realization strikes - as do those words slip- 

“I can help with that.”

Toji thinks he’s about to pass out- no, he thinks he’s already dead.

Because, surely, he was in heaven right now? 

Or as close to heaven as he possibly could be - because with only a nod of yours, within only a few minutes he’s between your legs, kneeled at the very foot of your bed. The circles of his nostrils flaring in sweet, sweet anticipation the nearer he’s dragging his straight nosebridge in a meandering line towards your hot core. 

Sniffing a deeeep few lungfuls of your body, your cunt’s saccharine aroma. Baritone so primally guttural n’ wet, “And yer sure? This isn’t just you talking out of- her?” 

You’re whimpering once the honed, gleaming edges of his canines punctuate that last word by sinking into your drenched panties, gnawin’ until he lets it fall back with a sharp snap! that makes your heated skin sting. 

You’re so wet that your inner thighs were gluing together with a thin sheen now, letting off the most sticky plap! of flesh-on-flesh as Toji throws one leg over his broad shoulder. The other pushed and pushed and pushed to spread apart with one of his rugged palms. 

Hips squirming restlessly on your ancient bedsprings, “I’m positive. H-how bad can it really be?”

“Oh, princess, it won’t be bad.” The edges of Toji’s lips stretch at the way he hasn’t even started, and yet, you were already stuttering oh-so-cutely. The thickened curve of his thumb thumps against the top of your cunt, dragging a sultry touch down, down, doooown your sopping slit.

His eyes widen at the way it makes that flimsy fabric of your undergarments drench with a lil’ puddle of slick. And Toji feels his mouth water, “But don’t you take me for some priggish, posh prince that won’t eat out such a pretty pussy.”

“H-how crass!”

“Heh- if you think that’s crass…” Your knight doesn’t finish his sentence, only hooking a roaming index underneath the hemline of your panties. 

Toji bores his half-lidded eyes straight into yours when he tugs- when he rips your starchy white underwear off. Absolutely nothing against his monstrous strength as your personal guard— “Skirts up.”

And you’re barely registering his grunted words fast enough to pull your numerous inner layers up to your heaving chest, barely on time before Toji jerks his head slightly back and spits. 

Straight onto his target of your pussy, it cakes such a warm layer of sap that trickles down n’ in between your puffy folds. 

“Messy giiirl–” He’s more than happy to spank the pad of his thumb down on your swollen entrance and smear the glossy mess. “Hidin’ this away under all those layers. How dare you.”

Prying the edge of your cunt open just enough so that he could sneak a teasing look at your sloppily soaked hole. 

Toji’s scorching hot breath hits your skin in gusts once he’s leaning closer, nibbling on your fleshy pussylips until you whine. “O-oh my- s’it always this rude when one does…this?”

“No.” Gurgling out those syllables right where you were the most sensitive, he’s toying with you. Playing. Driving you mad with the tickling sensation of his scarred lips latching nose-deep into your pussy, “Just me.”

You buck, you keen, you spray him in even more gooey wads of slick that slip n’ slide riiight down Toji’s throat. And he stays there, maw agape so that you could watch each slithering trailway he drinks up like a man parched. 

Like he was thirsting for water for years before coming across your leaking pussy, Toji spanks the underside of his palm against your cunt and makes you still. 

“Now now-” Non-dominant hand latching to your waist to help you hold still, your knight snarls. “Enough runnin’, tell me what you want, princess.”

You claw desperately at the shaggy black strands of his bangs, a shrilling noise escaping you that you’ve never made before. Pulling him- “Want it, Toji. For you to do the…thing.”

“Ah ah-” Oh, he was having sooo much fun making his pretty royal beg for him like this. “The what? Didn’t you take all those ngh- elocution lessons, hm?”

Pulling away, in response your breath hitches with what sounds like a strangled sob, and it’s enough to make his aching cock twitch. Mindlessly humping the bulging outline of his girth against the cool wood of your bed frame, “Like my mouth?” Rubbin’ the line of his scar up and down your cunt, “My scar?”

Nodding and nodding because that’s all you can do, he watches on with a hooded gaze at the way your legs twitch with need. 

Lengthy tongue flopping out even further, your mouth drops ever-so-slightly as you take in how long he was. And he was going to use that? Slathering the very edge of his temperate muscle over your folds, “Then uuuuuse- your-” Pokin’ his nubbed end just back in between your soppy lips to make you bawl- and right out again. “-words.‘

“P-please!”

“Hmm–?”

“Please-” Tears bubble up by the corners of your eyes, and your chin drops down to your chest as you wail out the rude, un-ladylike answer he’s been dying to hear these past few minutes. Past few years, really. “-e-eat me out?”

He was ruining you.

And did your command even have to be a question with the way that Toji was instantly diving his face between your trembling legs like his life depended on it.

Swirlin’ the textured buds of his tongue smack-dab on top of your swollen, sensitive folds to give you a goood, long lick. Once - just a taste before he pulls away with a short ‘fuck’, before surging back in. 

Twice, before- thrice, he was addicted. 

Smack after smack of his dewy wet lips that were simply drippin’ wet with all your juices, Toji’s gluing his maw against your core and sucking you all in. 

He’s fighting to keep his verdant irises from rolling all the way back, he couldn’t even bring himself to even breathe before smushing his handsome features between your legs.

Gulping, “So fuckin’ sweet, princess. Sweeter than any wedding cake.” Toji’s knees go weak at the syrupy wet taste of you splashing on his tongue. “N’ I haven’t eaten allll day.”

And it wasn’t anything innocent - nothing sweet about it - you’re feeling the slimy tip of his tongue ease out further from between his puckered lips and swipe the dewy droplets of slick back into your hole. 

Filling up your entrance with his fat girth until the only thing you were cutely clenching ‘round was his tongue. Your mouth shapes into a soft circle as he starts thrashing his dextrous tongue all the way back n’ forth. “Ngh- ngh, fuck, Toji. It f-feels so…”

Fuck- not even the gossip of the court ladies talked about it being this good. 

“Ohhh– what’s that? Using such expletives, where are your manners, hm?” 

You’re fisting the expensive coverings of your bed as the tender, velvety underside starts scraping along just where you were fountaining out beads of slick the most. Toji’s high cheekbones hollow out with a slurp as he pumps his tongue in furiously. “How can I have manners when- oh fuck!”

Surprising yourself with the sheer carnal need that was seeping into your voice, your hazed pupils travel in circles inside of your eyes in synchronized tempo with his swirlin’ tongue. Rough, rugged. 

“Tha’s it- that’s it.” Toji has the audacity to knock his pointed chin against the base of your cunt and snicker, spitting out yet another stringy wad of saliva that makes your pussy glisten damply. Splat! “Any louder and the entire hah! palace is gonna hear, princess.”

“And whose fault is that- oh!”

“Yours.” He answers, simply.

Already having located your swollen, perky clit and giving it a playful bite. Your spine arches back into the soft blankets as you see fucking stars, clawing through his sweaty scalp. “I-I should admonish you for cheek, Sir Toji.”

“Go on, then.” His gravelly tone was dangerous, sounding oh-so-vulgar from down below once Toji’s plastering his mouth in an open-mouthed smooch against your cunt and prying your pussy further open.

Breath hitching, his prolonged middle finger tugs on your swollen folds and slips just the plush pad in. Groaning at just how wet n’ ready you were for him, “Tell me to stop.” Stretch-stretch-stretching your snug entrance around his bullying digit, “Hmm– command me, princess.”

Sloppy and aching.

Eating you out like he was starved, you’re barely given the time to catch your breath.

Damn near crying out by the time he’s scouring your glossy folds with the curvature of his finger. So big that Toji’s reaching every geysering nook and cranny without even trying– “I-I– fuck! More-”

He gasps, “More?”

“M-more.” Your chin slaps stupidly against the treacly puddle of drool on your chest, one you didn’t even realize was there before. Hazily lidded eyes blinking down at him, “More, please?”

Even when you were this gone, you still used your adorable manners. 

And that fact was enough for Toji to slip his free hand between his legs and massage the mountainous plane of his palm down on his throbbing length. Snaking a hand between his trousers, he silently thanked the wedding dress code for making it so that he didn’t need to wear his full metal armor today.

“My cute princess wants more. You- do you even know what you’re haaaa- asking for?” Toji pants - he heaves. Your cunt singing out a carnal squelch! as he’s crowning just the tip of his nimble index past your filthy hole. 

Nearly the entirety of his upper weight crushing your body to the bed, movements jittery with desperation. He’s suckling on your clit like his favorite gummy whilst stretchin’ out your glutinous insides as if he was trying to mold you to his each shape. 

Tracing your mushy channel in zig-zagged lines, the bed creaks each time you’re bucking to follow his lecherous movements. “D’you even know what I can do? How much I can streeeetch this tight pussy out?” Squeezing in another finger, he’s rawly opening up your cunt with crazed thrusts. “How much I’ve yearned-”

And more to shut himself up than anything, Toji stuffs his mouth full of your pretty lil’ clit. Craning his neck to let him drag his unfastened mouth over n’ over in slobbering drags. 

Letting your restless hips ride his features, “O-ohhh Toji– it feels so good.” You mewl, your entire body burning after each knocking thrash of his barreling fingers. 

He had three- three of them inside you. Slick, glissading, searching. 

“Promise to hah- scream my name, princess.” He pipes up, still salivating all down your slit with ribbony wires of spittle that start formulating a puddle beneath you. Sexily-placed scar rubbing a lecherous massage as the curling tip of his tongue draws a few hearts on your clit. Like he was strangely…distracting you. Before- 

“T-Toooji! There! There-”

He strikes your g-spot, mercilessly. 

Whack after whack he’s pushing until the knobbled bumps of his knuckles are rawly red, poking into your deepest depths. 

“Yeahhh- just like that, atta girl.” Toji utters on your tender, wet pussy and you see stars. Circling cartoonishly around and around your head while he keeps on probin’ your favorite spot. 

A place you’d only read about in those steamy romance novels your attendants smuggled, and now your knight was treating it like some cute glossy button he kept on squishing. The steady pushes of his digits bruising a few circumferences onto that spot, he was leaving your head feverishly empty.

And you can feel his smug smirk on your pussylips, faltering ever-so-slightly when he’s twitching in his hands. 

Oh, Toji could cum from just this. 

Forced to dab the heavy padding of his thumb over his weeping divot, he knits his dark brows and tries to make sure that this was real. That he really had you like this - all whimpering and drooling with both pairs of pretty lips, the crevice of your mouth opening with the loudest, most broken sob of- “Feels so strangeee–” Hips jutting, “I’m close.”

“F-fuck.” And if his voice broke on that last line, you were too far gone to recognize it. Like a madman, he’s twisting his mouth to now drink in all of you. 

Everywhere from the puffed-up nub of your clit, to where your sappy entrance was bulging with all of him. All his rummaging size that dug against your delicate sweet spots, Toji was kissin’ you everywhere and anywhere. 

Until his mouth burned, and your thighs quaked. “G-gonna…I’m gonna-” You’re croaking out, throat turning husky every time his tongue rolled over your clit, snaking up and down your folds. 

“Cum- cum on my tongue, princess.” Toji bores his dilated green gaze straight up at you as he grins. Lovingly. Pussydrunken. “That’s an order.”

And then you cum- and it’s right all over his mouth like he’d hoped. 

All down his tongue. Pooling at the back of his raping throat. Thick, splashing waves of sap that he’d love to drown himself in - to drown himself in your sweet, orgasming pussy. 

Toji’s riding you through each peak of your high on the dot, slashing his tongue in a slanted drag across your clit repeatedly. It’s such a primal back n’ forth that leaves your hips slamming back into his mouth. 

Voice wavering, it takes you a few seconds to blink away the blotches of pure white staining your vision. “Th-that feels so–” Still suffering from each ravaged shake that wrecks you, “Wait- are you…”

And as your vision finally clears just the slightest bit, you’re catching the sight of Toji’s beefy arm disappearing underneath your bed posts. Moving to and fro angrily– 

“Nothing to w-worry about, princess.” His smoky croon makes the line of your spine shiver, lavishing your cunt with another polish of his mouth. Allll the way up to your pulsing clit, he gives your g-spot another merciless thump. “Nothing to worry about at- fuck-”

He might be the strongest of all your knights, but he can’t handle this.

Can’t handle you looking so damn dazed on his tongue, twitching with even the tiniest graze over your sweet spots. Tearing out of your pretty pussy all for him - that he can’t help but reach his high.

And Toji wasn’t going to let it go to waste, no- in a quick split-second, he’s forcing himself from his kneeled position at the edge of the bed and hiking a meaty thigh beside your hips. Straddling you with all his bulky bodyweight, grabbing ahold of his reddened fat cock as he cums.

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck–” He’s nibbling down on his rosy lower lip and still can’t hold back the sheer amount of moans that escape him. 

Your eyes widen at the voluminous droplets of seed dribbling from that circular end of his shaft, throbbing and glittering with wiry strands of cum clinging to him. “Th-there’s so much, Toji.”

Head slouching forwards- “S’all for you, princess.” Toji’s orgasm hits him like a damn carriage, and it’s pure adoration to keep on creaming himself to the way you looked underneath him that he isn’t simply collapsing on top of you right now. 

Whimpering, your cunt starts throbbing needily once more at the splatters of syrupy ivory sap staining your sheets now. Making a mess. 

Husking, “S-s’all-” Still airy n’ half-lidded, Toji moves as if he’s in a dream when he creeps his cherry-red tip towards your plush lips. Inch by inch. Toned hips moving forward, toes curling as his angry cock cums even more– “-for you.”

“Oh- mmmm—” You’re looking up at him through your lashes once the last few pearly droplets of seed trickle down to your maw like a white gloss, mouth all full. Toji’s mushroom tip was as pink as a strawberry and just as massively thick, scraping your jaw with the puffy edges of his veins. 

Finally stealing a proper look at him, he just looked so attractive with your slick sparkling on his chin. Plastering a wet gleam all the way from the tips of his cheeks down his sharp jaw. 

Just dripping wet - he was wearing the mess he’d made of your pussy like a medal.

“Oh. Oh.” Toji’s dark pupils dilate, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d have said he had heart eyes. Shuffling further down to give your soaked mouth a looong, thorough kiss. His first, in fact, that he’s been saving for either you or no one. Not that he would tell you that. “Congratulations on the wedding.”

You’re whining, as if you’d just remembered what today was. “And what about the problem of an heir?” 

“O-one thing at a time, princess. Besides…”

Toji didn’t have to finish his sentence for you, too, to register what his keener ears had picked up. The distant thundering of footsteps- 

“They’re back.”

And just as soon as he’d arrived, he was gone. 

A fever dream that never happened- or, at least, Toji would never believe it happened if not for the cloying treacly taste of you still sticking to his lips. And if Ijichi arrived alone, with Naoya still in the throes of his tantrum, and sleeping over at some other ward of the palace - well, he may have just cracked a smile.

“What a great affair today- eh, Ijichi?”

“Y-yes, sir!”

.

.

.

Naoya accepted your explanation of using oils to trick the court into thinking the marriage was consummated, but what wasn’t accepted was the fact that weeks had passed and you still weren’t with child. 

With an heir. 

And right now the pressure from the court was crushing– 

“You must understand, my lady. You’re already at that age, and our majesties aren’t getting any younger!”

“Quite right quite right, an heir- if we can have an announcement before the upcoming ball-”

“It is imperative we have a newborn soon. Our enemies will see this as a weakness-”

“Right, and I believe Naoya will attend to that.” You’re throwing a bored glance at the way your husband lounged near the end of the council table. Stood tall, and aloof with power. And you didn’t mean just the matters with your kingdom’s enemies, Naoya hadn’t even tried to touch you since that night. 

To which you’ve been quite grateful, frankly. 

You cringe at the thought of what this arranged marriage may come to, and the fact that there was certainly no way Naoya could even hold a candle to how good Toji was-

No, subtly, you’re shaking your head. You couldn’t be thinking about these sorts of things during an official advisory meeting - especially not when your personal knight stood guard right beside your bejeweled chair. 

“-and his highness Naoya was so passionate on your wedding night.” Tuning back into the important conversation at hand, you’re almost regretting it. 

The elder that’d just spoken up sounded almost giddy with excitement, and you’re realizing - at his red-blotched cheeks - that he must have been part of the group to assess your bedsheets on the morning after your wedding night. 

Plowing on, almost conspiratorial, “I mean- the way those fine silks were torn- surely you must try harder, my lady, to replicate that night. Otherwise we might have to consider additional royal consorts.”

Beside you, you’re feeling Toji’s towering figure stiffen- recreating that night with Naoya was the last thing he wanted. And he’s growling out through his helmet before he can control himself, “We have no ongoing wars. We have no rebellions. I’d say we’re quite at peace without rushing the princess, minister.”

“And who gave you permission to speak, knight?” 

Oh, you don’t have to look up to know who seethed. 

The shards of vicious ice cutting through his voice was enough for you to already envision the glare that Naoya was sending Toji’s way. “And you’re one of the lower-born ones- a peasant, are you not? Aren’t you the one that had to get on your knees and beg to be able to take training?”

Toji grits his teeth so hard he tastes rusted metal, “I am.”

“So it is much above you to even breathe so loud during a meeting such as this- is it not?”

“It is.”

“Then why do you butt in like some- some lover when we talk of her duty-”

“Because my duty is to the princess you impotent lout.” Toji’s voice was thunderous, making the long wooden table tremble and the court advisors to hold onto their breath. You were quite sure you saw at least one faint. 

And Toji would let anyone mouth off against him - but one word against you and he would stand up to the king that knighted him himself. Nevermind some arrogant prince who couldn’t count the blessings he had. 

A prince who, he was sure, was on the verge of bursting right now. 

Face an unseemingly shade of red, veins popping, mouth spitting with what were surely punishments–

“I will remind you, husband-” Your voice speaks up, with all the regal authority that half this court wouldn’t be able to muster up. And every head snaps to you as if watching a particularly complex jousting competition. Your eyes narrow down at Naoya, “-that you are not king, yet.”

It didn’t even matter if he was - you would still not allow him to lay a hand on your steadfast knight. 

And there was nothing more to say.

Gingerly, the senior advisor, Gakuganji, is slamming down the tiny golden gavel to adjourn the court session. And every huffy elder nearly tumbles out of their seat to escape the stifling tension between you three. 

“You-” Naoya declares, as he stands up. With a jolt, you realize that he’s glaring venomously at none other than Toji. “I might not be king but I am next in line. And you shall do well to stay away from my wife-” 

Those razor-sharp eyes now falling on you, and even though Toji’s body moves- his heart can’t help but ache at the fact that he had no right to stop the future king - your husband - from daring to look at you with anything but love. Suspiciously, “-or else.”

In a flutter of velvety capes, Naoya is dragging his court entourage off - each one undoubtedly buzzing to gossip outside about the scandal of your knight as they slam the door behind them.

And then, you’re alone.

It’s tough to be alone with someone as princess - always in the presence of elders, guests, or subjects - and this is the first time the two of you have been together in a room, unsupervised, since…that night.

Toji’s mouth runs dry at his blatant disrespect- not only did he have to embarrass you, but he had made you fall within Naoya’s line of sight so vile. “My p- princess, I am sorr-”

“Touch me.”

Fuck.

It’s only once your face breaks out into a tentative smile that he’s realizing he might have just said that out loud. And you’re standing- walking, cornering him, “Well…if you really want to, Sir Toji.”

“But your husband…”

And he didn’t really care for that prince, he only cared for what they might say about you if anyone saw. If anyone knew- 

“Since when—” You’re drawling, eyes dipping lower. He really was oh-so-sculptured in his armor, all broad lines and chiseled curves. And it made the thin silk of your dress rub lewdly when you’re clenching your thighs, “-have we cared about him?”

Suddenly, you’re getting a demonstration on why exactly Toji Fushiguro was the fittest of all your knights - the one chosen specifically for you. 

Because your back hits the frigid coldness of the table before the recognition hits you- as soon as you blink, as soon as you can gasp, Toji’s lifting you clean off the ground and sprawling you out so prettily. 

Right then and there in the middle of the meeting hall. 

The velvety fabric of your dress draping across half the chairs, legs flying up into the air in such an unroyal way until Toji’s grabbing ahold of your ankles. Stretchin’ them out to lock around the back of his neck with one big, beefy hand.

You ogle the way his plates of armor shift as his biceps flex from underneath, pushing apart your too-many layers and twisting your undergarments just to the side. “Toji wh-what are you…”

“Sayin’ those things and expecting me not to lose it.” Comes out the answer - rough, hoarse. Like every syllable was wrenched from the back of his smoky throat, sensual. “Maybe I’ve been too- nice- princess.”

You’re whimpering, hips bucking needily off of the flat surface when Toji punctuates the very end of his sentence by rovering the blunt, glinting hilt of his sword between your legs. 

Safe. He would always keep you safe. Letting that scalding coldness drag down, down, down between them–

“Oh- fuck!” Before pressing down so meanly on the slope of your throbbing pussy with his metal shaft, you’re seeing stars once he’s nudgin’ apart your puffy folds just enough to locate your clit and massage. 

“Seems like we’ve taught my lil’ princess some baaad manners, huh?” He’s snickering, ‘round and ‘round go the gyrations of decorated hilt. 

And you’re so wet that every swerve of his blade leaves the barren air ringing with a muffled squelch! Thighs twitching further apart, he takes the opportunity to clunk his muscular thigh up on the ledge and let it grind just teasingly against your cunt.

Watching in awe as a puddle of silvery sap starts polishing his knee-plate, “Why don’t you get yourself off, princess? Hah- use me.”

“S-so crude.” 

Latching onto the broad deltoids of his shoulders, Toji’s bending and bending you all the way in half like a parchment. Smooth fringes of his knee sinking in past the plush of your thighs and draggin’ up your slit. 

The metallic surface of his armor squeaks when you prod up into it sloppily, riding his knee. All the way up to his thigh-

“And this, princess–” He gruffs out from above you, scorching hot pants sending goosebumps down your neck. Your hamstrings buuurn when he pushes against you, mounted, almost like he was fucking you- just with clothes and armor unfortunately on. “-is called a mating press. Never taught that one in elocution classes before, huh?”

A mating press- oh, Toji had you in a mating press, and he was rutting down into you until your joints popped in protest. 

Wrangling the fronts of your knees until they hit your tits, he’s lavishing his tongue on the crook of your neck and biting. 

“Oh, what I would ngh- give to have you like this.” Scarred maw tickling your skin, he’s humping you like he’s in heat. “Would absolutely ruin you.”

“S-so why don’t you-” You’re whimpering once he’s gripping a good handful of your left ass cheek, usin’ the lewd leverage to motion you in a manhandled pace. You’re not just being angled, he’s lifting you almost into midair so that you could hit the most perfect spots on your pussy against his thigh.

Crushing the front of your perky clit against his muscles, he snarls when your riding becomes more erratic. His ears burning, “Don’t- haaaah- don’t tempt me, girl- m’already so-”

He doesn’t even have to finish his sentence for Toji’s mossy eyes to drop and for you to realize exactly what he’s talking about.

The firm, rock-hard outline of his cock that was peeking out through the gaps in his armor- you don’t even consider what you’re doing before you’re undoing one of his tight laces to let the metal drop and show you all of his bulge.

“Oh, shit-” Toji gasps, eyes sprinting to the back of his skull when you tug down his black trousers to palm his throbbing erection. “Oh shit oh shit-”

“I-I thought these were padding-”

He smirks, “Heh- not for me.”

And, truly, you hadn’t gotten a good enough look at Toji’s fat, veiny cock when you had the chance to on your wedding night. Because he was just so damn big that you’re finding trouble wrapping your hand around his entire girth, palm tingly where you could feel all his prominent veins pulsing across. 

Zig-zagged patterns that Toji hunches over and makes you feel- 

“M’not fuckin’ breeding ya.” He spits as soon as he lifts his dripping knee off with a sopping plap! Though, he still keeps his sheathed sword hilt positioned on top of your clit. “Just let me…just…”

Toji couldn’t even begin to explain how filthy it felt to be doing what he was doing.

Holding you all spread apart for him while he fucked you- all without putting it inside like he so badly wanted to. Just lazed, sensual draaaags of his lengthy shaft straightly across your slit. All the way from where his pointed mushroom tip poked your clit, to the innocent smooch of his balls against your cunt. 

Bass voice hitching with a crack, “I can’t- I-I can’t I can’t-” It sounded as if he was losing it- Toji’s given an inch and he takes a mile. Rearing the bulbous end of his cockhead to slip underneath your panties- “M’gonna go fucking crazy like this.”

“F-fuuuck- feels like you’re ngh- really fucking me, Toji–”

“Don’t say that- ohhh, don’t say that, princess.” Warning you from above, Toji’s free hand grabs a handful of your sopping soaked underwear so that he can wrap the useless fabric around his shaft whilst he grinds down on you. Faster. “S’fuckin’ dangerous, might just end up giving birth to a heh- Fushiguro.”

Mewling whines, “I-I don’t mind-”

The only thing you can get out before Toji crashes his mouth into yours and makes you shut up before you made him even more feral. Vulgar groans departed into your lips as he thrusts across your pussy, barely audible over the sluuuurp of your two juices mixin’. 

“Now whaaat have I said about talking out- of- her-” His sensitive pink slit scratches the nub of your clit along with his blade haft, and that makes you see white.

Again and again and again- so close. Toji was just so unintentionally sexy as he pushed you closer n’ closer, meaty thighs sticking against yours, beads of sweat splattering down onto your body, and it only made you even wetter to imagine how much better it would feel if he actually–

“Oh-” Your knight gruffs out, stern lips twitching into a smirk when he snaps his eyes down to your furiously fluttering pussy. “-you’re cumming, princess.”

You- Clenching your eyes as you throw your head back and mewl. You were. 

And you didn’t even realize it until Toji was pressing one particularly prominent vein between your bloated pussylips, letting the gleaming curve of it dig back n’ forth against your cunt and grind you through your high. 

White-hot bolts of fire sparking, spine arching into his armor. 

“O-oh please–” Such pretty noises of pleasure escape your lips, and right now you’re too far gone to wonder or even care if someone might hear from outside. Toes curling, “Toji Toji Toji- Toooji—!”

Chilling metal hilt scraping your pretty clit, “That’s it- thaaat’s it- might not get to stuff you like I want to, princess. But you-” Darkened green eyes stare into yours seriously, “But you’re cumming for me.”

Toji keeps on staring right into your eyes as he fucks himself against your pussylips- straight into his own high. Forcing himself to milk out every drop, to cream all over your puckered lips with a froth of sappy white. 

Hissing, it’s all he can do to stop himself from throwing his head back at his orgasm - not wanting to miss a single nanosecond of your expressions. 

You’re blubbering out stupidly, “Will it always ngh- feel this good, Toji?”

“I can’t always have you, princess.” With a saccharine-sweet squelch! he dabs the thick end of his thumb into the pool of white that’d collected near your entrance. Letting it drip a few speckles of cum on its way to plop! right between your pouty lips. Making you suck.

It’s all Toji can do to not keen as he responds, “And- and when you…” He gulps, and in all the years you’ve known him, you don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound so pained. Sage eyes narrowing, he gazes into yours as if he was trying to memorize each blink. Each twinkle. Each shade. “-when you have children, please- please don’t let them have…”

Your eyes, the ones he’d never forget. The ones he’ll see till his dying day. He could handle watching you grow your family, raising heirs while he stands by your sides as he always has. 

But if he has to look at them and be looked at through your eyes- ones that never knew him as you did, he doesn’t think even the strongest knight could bear it. 

It’s what he wanted to say. 

It’s what he would’ve never forgiven himself if he said- because who was he, really, to demand such a thing from you?

So it was only because the universe had finally taken pity on poor Toji Fushiguro and his hopeless love that they decided to spare him this. Because just before he could dare finish that sentence, there’s a soft gasp from the other end of the doorway. 

Your blood crystalizes into ice, and Toji’s immediately covering your body- shining blade honed in on the faint figure of Ijichi, who’d very obviously been handed the task of bringing you two back to court.

“S-sorry for interrupting!”

With a bow so low that his wiry glasses clatter briefly onto the marble floor, Ijichi shuts the door fast enough that your mind - still reeling from your recent orgasm - starts to wonder whether he might even have been a figment of your imagination. 

Until Toji breathes out a ragged sigh of almost relief, “I have a new recruit to teach about knocking, princess.” Before staring back at you - and that ivory puddle of cum between your legs, and he grins. “Keep that there.”

.

.

.

Toji Fushiguro knew you had a penchant for wandering off- it’s how he met you, after all. 

That starry-eyed lil’ girl, just a few years younger than he was, who was roaming around the bustling streets of the town market with absolutely no sense of danger or emergency. Seriously- why the hell were you entertaining that hawker trying to sell you glass as real pearls, when you were obviously wearing the real thing?

And even from a distance, it was obvious that you were out-of-place. So Toji, with all his wizened fourteen years as an actual townsfolk, was the one to help you.

“-from the greatest depths of the greatest sea, I tell you, little miss! And only for you I will give you the low, low price of-” 

“Absolutely nothing.” Toji had snarled, signature scowl on his face - he was the most feared of the neighborhood boys for a reason. “That’s what tha crap’s worth.”

Pawing a hand on the silken sleeve of your dress, it’s only after he’d tugged you away from the shop and by his side that he’s remembering something you nobles (even badly disguised ones) had called ah- etiquette. 

But no matter, it was too late for that now, and you weren’t complaining either. Only peering up at him with a questioning gaze as Toji pulled you closer to his dirtied undershirt with a hand on your shoulder, “Scam the rich not the kids, fuckin’ conman.”

That seemed to draw a reaction from you, “Oi- who’re you calling a kid-”

“And who’re you calling a conman.” Indignantly, the older man eyeballed the two of you menacingly, “Who even are you, little twerp- I can’t imagine you’re her boy-”

“Gods yeah, I’m her- boy.” 

The words made his ears hot with blood, Toji wasn’t popular with anyone in the neighborhood - all finding him too frightening and big - let alone with the daughter of some aristocracy like you. But you weren’t correcting him, either!

“S-so–” The hawker seemed to have believed him, at the way his tannish cheeks were boiling bright red more than anything. It was enough embarrassment for him, and Toji’s turning to tug you away, “-you better- stay away from my girl!”

Hell, that was worse than embarrassing. 

Toji’s noticing that damn near the entire market turns at his cracking voice and wishes the ground would swallow him whole. 

Even more so when he’s out of earshot of the marketplace and you speak up- “So, my…boy, huh?” Shit- he was still holding onto your hand. You giggle when Toji lets go as if you burned, finding the older boy hilarious. He turns to you and oh- oh, his breath catches at your smile. “Guess that makes you the future king- you seem quite a lot better than that Zenin boy, anyways.”

“Future…king?”

It’s only then that he hears it- the galloping of horses so powerful that they could only be part of the palace’s special forces. The call of ‘princess! There you are-’

Oh, shit.

Toji Fushiguro was fucked. 

Go-home-and-think-about-the-princess-you-accidentally-propositioned fucked.

Wreck-your-humble-abode-into-a-training-ground-so-you-can-beg-to-try-out-for-the-royal-knights fucked. 

Toji Fushiguro was very, very-

“-out of it.” Wafts Ijichi’s tremoring voice through his little reverie. Tone slightly raised over the humming orchestra, “Toji, sir- sir!”

Toji jolts as he’s brought back- right, here he was. Stationed guard inside the ballroom of one of the most important annual functions of your kingdom, to bless the first few months of the newly-married couple. 

He’d zoned out just as your father, the king, had introduced the two of you, and Naoya had led you by your hand for the honored first dance - nothing worse than seeing you in the arms of another. 

He’d rather live in his memories with you, than a real life without. 

And that brought him back to Ijichi- whispering, though Toji wasn’t sure if it could count as whispering if half the surrounding nobles could likely hear. “Is this because of the other week when I caught you and the princess-”

“You will shut your mouth, Ijichi.” He cuts him off, tightly. 

“Yes, sir!”

Bored eyes refocusing back on the middle of the dancefloor, it seems the first dance was finally, torturously over. And Toji’s licking his dry lips as his gaze instantly finds you, as they always can’t help but do. 

Always looking at you.

Two parts of the same heart when they meet yours- and Toji feels a part of his break at the sad glimmer in your eyes when you’d wandered to the side of the polished floor, smearing one of those aching faux smiles he’s learned to distinguish. You wanted to leave.

How could you stand there like that?

So bothered and beautiful in your flowing gown, looking as if the rays of the chandeliers above were bouncing off of your sparkling dress - like they, too, knew they wouldn’t shine half as bright as you. And where was your husband- 

Oh.

Toji feels something ugly twist at the sight of Naoya talking with a court lady, a smizing smile on his lips. Too close. Too hurtful. And it’s a damn miracle he didn’t slay the heir right then and there. 

“Ijichi-” He hisses out, suddenly. Nodding as the other man yelps into rapt attention, “Hold my station- I have fuckin’ important business to attend to.”

The new recruit almost looks as if he was about to argue his superior orders, that is, until he follows Toji’s line of sight to meet you. 

“Understood, sir. Please take care of the princess.”

It takes Toji almost fifteen years to reach you, and only three steps. 

“Toji!” You gasp, seeing your lifelong friend bound up to your side, pointedly away from his station. “What are you doing here-”

“Do you want it to be him?”

Eyes boring into yours, hands itching for your own. He can apologize and grovel at your feet later for cutting the future queen off, but right now he just needs to know. And you already know, too. 

Your eyes darting to the middle of the dancefloor, where the string quartet had started up a new romantic melody, and Naoya was dragging a giggling noble lady into a dance. 

You could feel the eyes on you, and not just Toji’s. “Consorts. I told him I didn’t want- and then- about the heir- I think he just wanted consorts from the beginning. That’s why…but even though we’ve never consummated, our marriage is a contract so I can’t.”

“Do you want it to be him?” And Toji never repeats himself - not to eager new knights, generals, or those court elders - always listened to. 

But he would echo those very words to you as many times as you wanted until he was heard.

Your voice was almost a whisper- “No.”

There comes your answer, and there comes that familiar scarred grin of his. 

“Then come with me.”

.

.

.

“M-mm right there, Toji–” Your cries rip through the empty atmosphere of the knight’s quarters, right in unison with the rickety creak! given off by Toji’s shabby bed as you buck your hips in tandem.

The glossed walls of your cunt scouring for the touch of his roughened fingertips, scraping and stirrin’ right between your pussylips and hitting the bottom deeply. It’s driving you mad how easily he’s spotting your sultry g-spot, clawing at his ruthless wrist-

“Impatient giiirl.” He croons out cockily from above you, words huffed through clenched teeth. And Toji’s pressing his capped knee against your restless thigh to make you take it- “Unless you want my fat fuckin’ cock to hah- stretch the princess out then take it.”

You’re whimpering, spine arching off of the clammy blankets when his middle finger flicks your sweetest spot. “I-is it always that big that you have to stretch it out this much.”

“No.” Comes the answer - and Toji’s free hand toying with your left hand. Particularly the diamond ring on it, one he’s unapologetically plucking off of your finger and pushing onto his own - his thick pinky finger being where it would fit. 

Before slipping the banded digit past your dewy wet folds with a pryin’ squeeeelch, the noise is so loud and lewd that Toji groans as your greedy cunt swallows his fourth finger inside. “Jus’ me, princess.”

Just what- your brain can barely even compute past the stretch. The firm ridges of your knight’s lengthy fingerpads barreling straight past your elastic hole. 

Opening you up so much on his digits that it takes you a few breaths, a few seconds staring between Toji’s meaty thighs for you to understand what he meant- oh.

He was just that big. 

Whimpering, the chilling royal insignia creeps along your gummy walls and presses deep into your tender areas. Splotchy puddles of sap dribbling down Toji’s wrist, “Chatting to me from there too, huh? So loud- they’ll hear us at the ball, princess.”

They wouldn’t - the Keep too barren with every knight stationed, and the music of the orchestra too loud. You’re sure that the royal event was so bustling that no one’s even noticed you were gone, yet. 

But you mewl anyway, “Th-then- ngh! Then just wan’ you inside, Toji- please.”

Oh, the sound of your cute begging makes Toji’s ravaged, aching cock twitch. “Ohhh- I wanna fuck those manners outta you-” He groans, head slouching backwards once he’s assessing your driveling cunt. 

Faster, harder. 

Toji’s fingers carnally itch your pussy like he was crazed, pumping feverish in n’ out like he wasn’t even letting your slick, bulging folds get used to the stretch. Just watching with a leer as you struggle. 

Gruffing, “Open those pretty legs for me wider- yeahhh–” Toji’s sweaty, armorless body nuzzles the insides of your sheeny limbs. His bulky legs spread apart until his heavy erection throb-throb-throbs by the side of your inner thighs.

“Wh-what are you-”

“Shhh watch.” 

You can’t do anything but gawk once he’s rovering his free hand over your tummy- doughy thumb pressing down on the button of your clit, index streeeeetching upwards. 

He was measuring you. Measuring just how far his cock would go inside you. 

Once the curve of your knight’s index draws a horizontal line about halfway down your stomach, he grins. “There-” X marks the spot, and you yelp once the stern point of his finger taps right there. “-m’gonna fuck an ngh- heir into you there, princess.”

“Th-then do it, Sir Toji.” You huff, brows knitting with impatience.

“Well…” He drawls, and for a second you think that Toji’s about to pull away and leave you all high and dry. But, really, he’s just tugging on his snug white undershirt, dampened and clinging onto him with sweat in a way that made it look painted. 

Your mouth waters as you peek at the curly black happy trail which was lining the middle of his abs - so toned and tense that you could count exactly eight. Maybe more. 

A pearly droplet of sweat clings onto one of his shaggy bangs, and drips- slithering between Toji’s pectorals, his bumpy core, disappearing into where his heavy cock was fat n’ throbbing. 

In the dimmed lighting of Toji’s bedroom, you can already make out just how red and pretty his bulging tip was, curved just slightly right and weeping fat globules of frothy pre. It collects in a sleek mess over your pussylips, damn near ten inches of veiny shaft settled between your slit and waiting. 

He was weighty. 

“-if my queen asks.”

And Toji knows you. He waits just until your mouth opens to snark back- before kissin’ your glistening entrance with the edge of his mushroom tip and pushing—

“O-ohhh fuck–!” You’re letting off a shrill wailing whimper, hands reaching somewhere- anywhere for you to hold onto for dear life while Toji fit himself inside your tight pussy. 

Slurring, you grasp onto the rippling muscles of his deltoids and claw such red, red lines. “Shoooo big-”

Toji’s leaning himself closer, he’s slouching. He’s swabbing his plump, swollen tip deeper-

“A m-mating press.” Barking out a sudden laugh - octaves higher, wild like he was still in disbelief. Toji snakes his beefy arms underneath both your thighs and lifts you up until your ass cheeks are almost off the aged mattress. Folding and folding- he really was pushing you into a mating press. “I have you in a mating press- you. Like I’ve always dreamed.”

Before the words have even left his mouth, he reaches down to swab your bloated folds with the edge of his thumb. Straightly smoothing your pussylips and watching how you gulping down each solid, rummaging inch.

“And yer taking me-” Gasping, just the slightestshift closer leaves his pointed cockhead gliding off your walls and burying even deeper. Snagging his tender veins on your orifice and making him hiss, “-taking me allll up inside. O-oh, you’re so fucking- tight-”

It’s the first time you’ve ever been stretched out this much. Toji’s so damn big that it’s like your soppy walls were clinging to him like a second skin.

Not even thrusting properly, quick, rapid half-ruts that make him feel more like an animal. The curves of his spine bowing against where your syrupy pussy was being stretched out, “But will it even fit, then?”

“M’gonna make it fit.” He growls, slowing down the mindless cadence of his hips to a lazy tempo that makes you keen at the sensual lightning bolts of his veiny shaft. 

Feeling every twirling coil and pulse shoveling through your entrance. 

Possessively, Toji’s guiding one of your sweaty palms within his. Placing it right down on your tummy and pushing on the back to make you press- “Here- feel.” 

“Oh-oh!”

You’re seeing white- the walls of your pussy being sagged by his cock’s weight. 

Toji was making you massage where his pounding shaft was creating a lil’ bulging outline. Feeling every mazing bump where his slimy tip was snaking to your deepest depths. “Feel the way you’re sluuuurping me up s-so good. S’like you’re made for me.”

Crying out- you can’t keep yourself from planting your feet flat and leaning into his touch. “Don’t tease me and j-just put it all the way in, To- fuck!”

“Awww, but I’ve waited years, princess.” He snickers, kneading harder on the cylindrical ridge of your cute tummy bulge. And oh- Toji can feel that precise moment he’s bottoming out. 

When he’s bubbling out a fat wad of precum that smears against the very back of your cervix, the edge of his ballsack hitting your cunt. Finally. Finally. 

Panting- seething through his teeth at the gooey warmth, “Princess- princess princess- oh, princess, m’finally inside you.” 

Experimentally, Toji reels his hips all the way back - all the way until the cherry-red end of his cocktip was sticking to your hole like adhesive. Before slamming right back in- “And again.” Another. “And again. And again and- hngh- again.”

“Shit- shit shit shit y-you really are all the way inside.” 

You caress the mean bulging swab of his cocktip against the top of your tummy, confirming to your melted mind that he wasn’t actually thumping your damn lungs - even though it might feel like it. 

“Of course I am-” Toji doesn’t end his hoarse declaration with any punctuation. He’s finishing it with a quick splat! of saliva gluing your lips shut, “You’re mine.” 

With a hand on your tummy to balance himself, he leans just the barest inches backwards until he can do the same to your puckered pussy. Splatter! It’s so wet and gleaming with moisture that forms the most sinful pool, “All mine. And I’m yours.”

And now he’s fucking you like a madman, drilling the split-ended circle of his orifice against your mushy walls until you sob. 

The size of him was insane. It was stretching you out so good that all you can do is flap your mouth-watered tongue wetly inside and yeowl. “Ngh- feels so good- feels so full inside with you, Toji.” 

“Yer gonna feel ngh- even fuller when I fuck a baby into ya, girl.” 

He scoffs once an especially hard thrust leaves the base of his cock stinging, and you shoved up to the headboard. “And n-no running.” Before you know it, Toji’s maintaining a rude chokehold of your neck and using it to drag you after every recoil. “How m’I gonna fuck a nghhh- baby into ya if you run, hm?”

Fuck- Toji’s jackhammers were vulgar - almost vicious.

Every spank of his v-line let off aggressive paps! that made your eardrums pop. Your lips wobbling each n’ every time his bulging tip was stirrin’ around your insides to pinpoint every sensitive orifice. 

You feel the thin line running down his plummy tip scrape right along the bundle of your g-spot, dolloping out a stream of precum as hello. Grumbling, “Hmmm– how cute. Hope our heir’s just as cute as ngh- you.” 

“Gonna be j-just as rude as you.” You’re mumbling, and his absolute favorite moment was whenever your hips would be so stimulated that you’re perking away from his thrusts. 

All the better for him to tighten your airflow and bring you back down- humming at the erotic jiggle of your ass cheeks against his chiseled pelvis. “Heh- then I guess I’ll be the fun parent, meanwhile you…”

And fuck- fuck, he almost doesn’t finish his sentence with the way your tight, circular-shaped insides clench. 

A glittery gloss of slick dripping down the sides of your pussylips, Toji’s scarred lips curl once he drags your pliant body back to his again. Relishing in the harsh smack! against his abs, “You can sit there while I give you a pretty lil’ heir. Make my h-hah! pretty lil’ princess all round n’ glowing. All-”

He doesn’t know what not to do. He’s touching you everywhere - anywhere. 

From the underside of your thighs to the perky nub of your clit, Toji brandishes his thumb against your nub and watches you quake. 

“-all pumped- full- until you can’t take anymore. S’my damn duty. I’ll wash them- dress them, put them to sleep, feed them- don’t have to do a nghh- damnnn thing. Just- get- pregnant.” 

With the fringe of his muscular thigh lifting to keep you from running, you can only throw your head back and trill at the dual knocks of his cock against your g-spot, fingers against your clit. “I’m close- close- haaah not gonna last, Toji.”

“Already fuckin’ know.” He could feel the way your cute insides were clamping after every sweet ba-dump! of your racing heartbeat. The heavy curve of his balls begging him to milk himself on you, “Cum for me. Cum on my cock- fuck! The mama needs to cum if we’re gonna get you pregnant, princess.”

“Please- mm–”

“Deep breaths, deeeeep breaths.” With every heaving deep breath, his rams only grew deeper, too. Before ultimately Toji spreads his sweat-sheened thighs wider and groans— “Cum.”

It’s impossible not to listen - not when his fat, vein-decorated cock was splitting you open just so. Swervin’ your sticky walls apart and shoveling himself all the way near your throat whilst you reached your high. 

“It’s sooo- oh.” Your vision dazed with stars, and it took so much out of you to even grind your hips down and meet his sloppy tempo. Keening, “Cum…inside.”

Oh-so-dumbified that you didn’t even realize Toji was already finishing himself off on your dripping wet cunt until he’s guiding one of your hands to feel your driveling pussy. Letting that saccharine white sap slip allll the way between your digits and wad up. 

“Already- hah- already did. And fuck- girl, you’re loving this, huh?”

Nodding, your eyes just kept on criss-crossing after every knot of seed that bundled up near your cervix. Sloshing like waves against your womb-

“Oh look.” He’s manhandling your own hand to tease and sluuuurp down your overstuffed slit, pushin’ back in the knots of creamy white that leaked out. “Even she agrees- oh, aaaand you wanna know what else she’s sayin’?”

“Wh-what?”

Gruffly leaning in closer, Toji’s skin was so burning hot against yours that you feel your slam-impacted flesh break out in a fresh layer of perspiration. “She says it’s gonna be a girl.”

It was unsteady, animalistic the way that your knight- your lover was creaming out every ounce of cum on your pussy. Squishing it past your tight hole and letting his base slather in such a thick ivory ring, you whine. “O-oh, fuck, m’so sensitive, To- ah!”

But he wasn’t letting go of you that easily.

Fuck how electric skitters of your orgasm left your legs thrashing weakly, oh-so-overstimulated. 

Toji hisses at the springy recoil of his knobbled tip against the entrance to your womb, rugged fingers dragging you back-

“How about…” Pressing down, your pretty bulge wasn’t simply filled with his cock anymore. It was jiggling around with the inflation of his masses of cum. “-we make it twins?”

.

.

.

And it could have been Toji simply greedy for a second round, for a lucky third, a fourth- but the only thing you’re sure of was that his wooden bed was brokenly sagging on one side by the time early day had begun breaking through the shutters of his drafty windows. Lighting your eyes ablaze once you’re lolling your head forwards and slamming your grinding hips down onto Toji’s.

You don’t know who’s more ruined now - him or you. 

Whimpering at the slight scratch of his tufted happy trail, your thighs twitch weakly at the sensation. “H-haaa- just a little more- mmm a bit more, Toji.”

He sounds utterly fucking gone as he coos up at you, eyes half-closed. “You’ve been saying that for ngh- aaaages, greedy girl.” And yet, the cracked bedframe protests when he’s bucking his hips in tandem to puncture your battered g-spot with a spank. “G-gonna milk me d-ry–”

Toji’s voice was breaking, he was whimpering. 

You gasp, “Did you just-”

“Shut up.” His veiny shaft enters your hole mercilessly- and each time you thought you were used to the textured stretch of his sheer size, he always manages to surprise you. “Sh-shut up and-”

Toji can’t even tell you to take it because you were- over n’ over until his bulbous, weighty balls were all tender, and each time your hips swerved in that wiiide heart shape left him drooling. Hypnotized. 

A creamy circle of cum brands on his hilt and Toji gulps, “Get pregnant.”

“That’s what we’re doing.”

“Yes- yes, I want- no. I need it.” It wasn’t just enough to have you riding him, Toji’s rutting up in half-dazed ruts until he was seeing stars. “Need you to- get- pregnant.” One hand pawing at the bulging cumflation on your tummy, the other clinging onto your hips to make you bounce. “Get pregnant get pregnant- get- pregnant.”

He wasn’t just animalistic, he was feral. Filthily streaking your walls with a wisp of pre, every slight gush only makes his slip n’ slide probe deeper.

Blinking back fucking tears when your sopping wet walls clamp down - just the tiniest bit, but he was so damn fucked-out. He’s gasping, feverish, bucking-

Only to make the fleshy tip of his crown slip out of your sloppy entrance with a loud plop! 

“N-no-” Toji’s lips depart a murky pant, entire body shuddering when one of his hands clasp his ravaged n’ red cock. “No no no no- no- inside, need it i-inside.”

“O-ohhh fuck the stretchh–”

Maw dropping, voice hoarse with calling his name - if the ball hadn’t heard you before, then they sure as hell were now. 

Whining, you’re cumming on Toji’s cock for the nth time in the past few hours. Well, ‘cumming’ was an understatement - you’re downright drenching him in sparkly bucketloads of your squirt. 

Letting it drip down the sides of his ripped, flexible hips, showering him in a thin spray of your cloying wetness. You find it easy to use that sticky moistened texture as a way to glissade your front down his abs and ride him to insanity.

Milking Toji’s fat, bludgeoning cock until he was wrung dry.

Hitting and hitting the goopy spots inside you that clamped down on him the tightest, and yet, all his achingly hard tip could do was flinch. Jolting with a few sparks of pleasure once he’s hitting his wave of bliss. “Shit- shit, ya fucking milked me sucked me- hah- dry. Sucked me all dry.”

Cumming.

Cumming and cumming so hard that Toji half wonders whether he could cum again. The softened smooch of his ballsack makes his head feel numb, teeth grit as you just keep on riding him in slight motions repeatedly. As if you couldn’t stop anymore. 

“I-I love you.” Toji breathes, voice cracked. Holding you tight against him, “I’ve always- always loved you. I’ve loved you so long that I’d tear down any world where I don’t.”

“Toji- I love you, too.”

Toji feels the scouring end of his mushroomy tip skim deeply into your womb, letting it brand its spongy circumference and stay there while he babbles. Hopelessly pussydrunk. Hopelessly in love. “Run away with me…?”

Took him long enough.

.

.

.

“My princess, I told you not ta handle heavyduty tasks when you’re-”

“And I’ve already told you, my Sir Toji, that reading a book isn’t heavyduty.”

“Just let me read it to ya.” Toji rolls his shoulders from a long day out in the field. And you’re roaming your eyes over him appreciatively, all this extra manual labor had only made your husband more naturally swole. 

He trudges up to where you were sprawled out serenely across your cute cottage couch, tucked safely away in a kingdom where nobody would find you. None of your furious, heirless ex-husband, or those nosy elders. 

Well, almost nobody-

“Ijichi wrote to say he’ll be visiting this week.” You’re tittering over Toji’s dramatic groan, poking his beefy biceps whilst he lays across your lap, restful. “Oh, c’mon, our daughter loves him. Speaking of- you should get her from the garden, it’s getting dark.”

Waving an airy hand, though his heart swoops as it always did when he thought of you and his little daughter, his exact carbon copy - except for that one feature, of course. “Builds immunity.” 

His little family. 

Including- 

“I hope…” Gently, oh-so-gently as if this was a dream on the verge of shattering, Toji lays his palm across your swollen tummy. Awe striking through him at the slight movement beneath your thoroughly stretched-out stomach- and your daughter chose that exact moment to barge inside, sprinting to cuddle right on top of him. 

Looking at you, and you’re finally looking back. “-our son has your eyes, too.”

A/N. Daddy’s been listening to this song and going THROUGH it- Anyways, this was supposed to be PWP what HAPPENED?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[haruchuiyo]

the kings love

the king broke your heart. he is now on his knees, at your mercy.

content: NSFW + a welt yang royal au + fem!reader + reader is a queen + implied arranged marriage + groveling + angst + betrayal + talks about trauma (very short) + scenes with food + kissing + dry humping + breeding kink + talks of an heir + very slight creampie (implied) + non sexual nudity + also sexual nudity + implied obsessive behaviour + perverse thoughts + blade and his duchess makes their cameos + fluff at the end + happy ending!

word count: 14k (i got lost my bad)

—

“Her Majesty The Queen.”

Welt’s head perks up from his paperwork on his table as he hears the announcement of your arrival.

As he sees you, he feels his heart flutter at just the sight of you. His eyes wander down to the beautiful gown that hugs your body perfectly, fitting you like the true queen you are. Then his eyes trail up to your pretty face. You’re beautiful as usual. There’s a slight smile on your face as you approach him.

“Are you ready, my dear?” You ask gently. Welt swears this gentle voice of yours was real and not an act, then he sees how your hands are formed into fists on the table. Welt felt his heart sink and he nodded.

“Of course, my love.” Welt replies. The servant, as if on cue seeing the lovely act of his king and queen, decides to leave you two alone.

Hearing the door close and it’s only the two of you, you back away from Welt and drop your smile.

“I’m sorry.” You hear Welt say and you can’t help the slight dry chuckle escaping your mouth. Ignoring his words, you place a brooch on his table.

“Wear this brooch, it symbolises our unity through our marriage and for the kingdom.” Hearing the words slip past your mouth, Welt feels his heart sink even deeper and he regrets what he did to you a lot.

“Of course.” He softly says as he takes the brooch. As if he suddenly lost all knowledge on how to pin the brooch on him. Just a moment later, he feels your hands on top of his chest. Soft and gentle to the touch, you help him pin the brooch on the front of his suit.

Welt can’t help but let his hands wander and softly place them on your waist. He hears your breath hitch and you softly shake your head.

“I don’t need this from you right now, your majesty.” You try to remove his hands from your waist but it’s to no avail. You lightly bite down on your lower lip in frustration. Why does he have to be so strong?

“Will you look at me?” You keep looking at the front of his chest. “Please?” His voice was almost wavering and you slightly shook your head.

“I don’t want to.” At your words, you feel how Welt presses your body into his chest even closer. “Why not?”

“Don’t force me to do this. You have no right, especially after what you did.” You harshly tell him, holding back tears.

No matter what you say, you can’t deny the fact you enjoy his touch on you. His hand on your waist feels good and the heat from his close proximity raises a certain warmth in you, you almost don’t wanna leave his hold on you.

“I’m sorry, I truly am.” Welt sounds genuinely apologetic but the betrayal from what he did hurts deeper.

“Let me go.” And he does. And you miss his touch but you can’t go back.

—

As you get back to your suite from your royal duties, you see an envelope on your dresser. It reminds you of the times you thought Welt sent letters. The front of the envelope has your name on it and when you turn the envelope you see the familiar stamp on it. And you immediately place the envelope away in your drawers.

You have no idea what Welt would do if he saw you put his letter to you aside. Thank the aeons we’re not sharing a bedroom, you think to yourself as you sit on the chair in front of your dresser.

As if subconsciously, your hand reaches out to the drawer with the envelope in it. Something in you wants to read it, but the other something tells you it’s the same thing again. A letter written by someone else pretending to be the king, your husband.

And you let your hold on the drawer go as soon as your maids enter the room to tend to you.

—

Welt can’t stop looking at you. You look beautiful. Your smile lights up the entire kingdom and its people. The way you greet them so gently and as if they all are familiar to you. And the way you give each and one of them a smile. Welt can’t help the thought that escapes from him wishing your smile was all his. He wants you and he’s too late. Or maybe he isn’t.

And when he sees you look at him, your eyes are shining and face covered in happiness, his heart flutters. He can’t help what he did just now.

He gently takes your hand in his and kisses your knuckles. You look at him surprised when there’s rows of awe’s going off behind you. And little did Welt know, his little gesture made your own heart flutter.

And hours after that, you hastily walk away from him while taking your gloves off. You hear Welt call for you from behind you but you don’t quit your steps away from him. At this moment, you really truly wanted the guards at your floor, which you share with said man running after from behind you.

“Wait!” He manages to catch up. “Please.” And he grabs your hand and pulls you to a stop. As he does that, you catch a whiff of his scent and you almost want to take another one. As you look up at Welt, you see how he’s doing the same thing but he’s not hiding it.

He subtly gets closer to you, his hand wrapped around your wrist. You feel his thumb gently stroke your skin and you subtly grit your teeth and try to pull away from his hold, but it’s to no avail.

“Stop grabbing me like that!” You try to shake off his hold once more but it doesn’t work at all. “It’s not my fault I have to do this to force you to be with me.” At his words, a dry chuckle leaves your mouth and Welt immediately regrets his words.

“Aren’t you a little too late with that?” The way your eyes turned cold as you looked at him, Welt felt his blood run cold. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t do what you did and your apologies would have been nonexistent, your majesty.” You spit out and Welt feels his heart sink, though your eyes are glaring at him, he can still see the tears you’re holding back.

“I’m truly sorry. I regret what I did. You don’t deserve that.”

“Of course I didn’t. I didn’t deserve to be roped into an arranged marriage with you either, who was known to be a king who refused to marry.” And Welt flinched at your words, though you’re right, your words hurt. Welt can’t help but look down and he sees how he’s still holding you by the wrist. He lets you go and somehow, he feels slightly happy you didn’t leave him when he dropped his hold on you.

“You should’ve been known for playing with the heart of someone who loves you.” And he looks at you. And there’s tears streaming down your face and you chuckle as you wipe them away. His heart sinks even more at your tears though he can’t forget the words you just uttered. Though what you said next was an arrow to his heart.

“I feel sick for still loving you. Even though you hurt me so much, I can’t help but still love you. No matter what you did, that doesn’t remove from the fact you are a good man but you are not one to me. Not at that time and not now either.”

—

A little more than a year ago

You are nervous. Very nervous. But you shouldn’t be. But you are. You are to be married to the King of Astral who has a reputation of not marrying at all. What if he refuses you when he sees you. You subconsciously scratch your fingernails when the doors open and a handsome man emerges.

A handsome man adorned in finest silks, with a graceful walk and such aura to him. You would’ve thought it was someone else if not for the crown on his head and the pin on his right chest.

Welt Yang. King of Astral.

Your eyes widened, he’s truly handsome and you swear you felt your heart skip a beat by just his appearance. But when he talks, your eyes almost pop out. Not only is his face and entire body handsome, his voice is as well.

How you managed to curtsy to him and introduce yourself is a wonder to you. Though when you looked down at the floor, you could feel a pair of brown eyes on you. And when you looked up, your eyes were locked at each other and you saw a tint of a red hue on his cheeks and you felt your heart swoon.

The King of Astral is adorable as well.

Days and weeks after that, you have been in the company of Welt multiple times. Your father called it ‘get to know each other’, though you objected at the time your heart still fluttered.

“So, your majesty-“

“Welt.” Said man cuts you off and you look at him confused. “Call me Welt.”

And so you did.

Then came the day of your days as engaged and you swore this man had your heart in his calloused palms. He made you smile, laugh at his dry jokes and you enjoyed being with him so much, you anticipated meeting him every single day. Little did you know of what is soon upon you.

Weeks of being engaged, each and every day, you received a handwritten letter from Welt. Telling you of his days, how much he misses being in your presence and discussing every single topic with you. And since you’re helping with planning the wedding, he adds in a few suggestions here and there which make you smile. And every time you receive his letters, you write him equally as many back.

Then came the wretched day.

You had decided to give him your letter in person. As you stood outside the doors of his office, the guard outside the door bows to you and was about to open it and announce your arrival, when you grabbed his shoulder and shook your head.

“Mind if I go in there by myself? I don’t wanna disturb the king with his duties.” You kindly request, the guard looked flustered at what he is supposed to do but since you’re the soon to be queen of the kingdom he’s serving, he saw no point in refusing your simple request. You thank him profusely before quietly opening the huge door. You were eternally grateful at that moment when the door didn’t make a loud sound.

“I’ve sent the letter you requested, your majesty.” You hear a familiar feminine voice. It’s his Secretary, Himeko. About to speak up, you hear Welt’s next words.

“Did you write how I would, Himeko?” Welt asked and Himeko said yes.

What are they talking about and why do you feel nervous?

“Splendid. The princess is quite smart, if she picks up on the fact that I didn’t write the letters, it’d be quite troublesome as we are gonna get wed tomorrow.” Hearing what you did, you felt rage surge up inside you. Not just rage, but betrayal and despair.

Have you written to Himeko this whole time, thinking it was the king? The lovely words you read and received were all written by the king's secretary.

Welt was about to speak up when he saw you appear from behind Himeko. Your brows are furrowed and your steps are in haste as you reach him. And he sees a letter in your hand before it’s harshly placed down on his table right in front of him.

“What is the meaning of-“ and a sound emerged in the office of the King of Astral.

Welt looked sideways, his eyes widened as he held his cheek and Himeko looked terrified. You had just struck the king. And when he looks at you, there’s tears falling down your face and something stings in Welts heart.

When you hear him call you by your name, your heart aches.

“I really thought you were a good man, your majesty. I truly believed you liked me and enjoyed our time together. If you really didn’t want to do this and had to resort to having your Secretary write your love letters to me, you should’ve just refused to marry me.” And you left the room and the room has never been quieter.

And after that day, the letters stopped coming. But the man who was the object of your anger and the cause of your heartache, never stopped coming to you.

Every day he apologized. There wasn’t a time where you didn’t hear an apology from him. Even during your wedding party, even though he didn’t say it during your first dance as a wedded couple, you saw it in his eyes. You felt it in his touches at public events and in the gifts he gave you. Personally.

And everytime you refused.

—

Welt sits back in his seat in his office, looking up at the ceiling. He feels numb but most of all, regret. His heart ached the first day he saw your tears and he was the reason for that. And today you cried once more and he was once more the cause of your tears. Seeing you in that state two times, each time his fingers itches to wipe your tears away and beg on his knees for you and apologise, over and over.

Every day Welt berates himself for hurting you like that. And ever since that day, he’s read the letters you wrote when you two were engaged. And every time it doesn’t fail to bring tears to him when he sees how much of your love for him you poured into those letters. All while thinking they’d go to him and every letter you’d get back, you thought it was from him.

Oh how he wishes to undone his actions and never hurt you like that.

He picks out a key from his front pocket and unlocks the drawer. Stacks of letters, in worn out shape, with your handwriting. Addressing every one of them to him.

And he reads them all over again for the umpteenth time.

—

“He reads your letters every night, my queen.”

You hear Himeko say from behind you on one of your walks, which you wanted to take alone but she decided to join. You scoff at her words

“It’s as if I’m dead, well I’m not and he can go burn these aeon awful letters.” You retort back and you hear Himeko sigh from behind you.

“He said it was a royal order.” Himeko speaks up and you quit your steps to turn around to look at her.

“Yet you didn’t have the ounce of decency to let me know. You knew how much this would hurt me.” Himeko winces slightly as she nods her head. “I confided in you, I’ve talked about him to you. I thought we were friends yet you were along in this betrayal as well. Silly isn’t it.” You dryly laugh before continuing to walk.

“I’m dearly sorry.”

“I’m sure you are.”

And you know she is. You can’t fault her for following a royal order. Royal orders are most important and secretive, they’re to be carried out no matter what. Though it hurts you to speak to your friend like that, deep down you’ve already forgiven her.

When you arrive at your bedchamber, there's a letter on your dresser and you see how there’s no stamp or anything whatsoever to tell who it’s from. There’s only your name on it.

Unfolding the letter, you see the familiar handwriting and put it away.

—

Welt sits at the tiny table. Candles are lit and there’s warm food on the table. But you’re not here.

And it’s been hours.

And every day he does this. Send you a letter, asking you to dine with him and each time you don’t come. Welt can’t fault you for that.

He smiles to himself sadly as he sees the empty seat in front of him, wishing you were sat there.

—

“My queen, the kings been waiting for you for half a dozen hours now.” At your lady maids words, you hastily turn your head. He’s waited six hours for you to come join him for dinner?

Your heart winces. Maybe he doesn’t deserve sitting alone for six hours while the food gets all cold. You grab your night robe and stand up from your chaise.

You arrive at the room he set up for dinner, gently opening the door. You see Welt sat alone. All while he’s holding onto what you assume is letters. And he’s reading it over and over. You see him softly brushing his fingertips over the words before leaning the letter closer to his face and he inhales the scent. And that’s when you see your own stamp on top of the letter. You remember how you sprayed these letters with your personal and favorite scent.

“Are you not going to eat?” And Welt’s head perks up so fast, you’d think it would fly off his neck. You can’t help the thought of thinking he’s cute. But desperate. Maybe it’s good he’s desperate.

“You’re here.” He breathes out as he stands up, approaching you.

“My lady maid told me you’ve been waiting for six hours. The food has already gone cold, your majesty. I think you should eat.” You tell him as he stands in front of you.

“Not without you, no.” He softly says and your eyes softly widened before shaking your head.

“So you’re gonna starve yourself unless I’m dining with you?” You lightly tease and you see how Welt’s eyes shone in delight at your simple teasing remark.

“Maybe.” He mumbles. You walk past him to the table. About to pull the chair out, Welt beats you to it. He slides in the chair for you as you sit down. You gently thank him before looking at the food on the table. And your eyes properly widened in surprise.

These all are your favorite foods. Even the drink on the table is your most favorite and you look up at Welt. And all he does is show you a gentle smile and your heart winces.

“I got you your favorite dessert as well, but maybe you’d like to eat that after the meal?” He asks and you look at him for a few seconds before slightly nodding your head. And he flashes you a happy grin.

“The food is cold, I can ask the servant to heat it up-“

“It’s alright, it’s pretty late and they all most likely wanna go to sleep now.” You say as you pick up the cutlery and cut into the food.

To say the dinner was good was an understatement, though you hesitated being alone with Welt after how much he hurt you, you can’t deny the fact that you enjoy his presence. He keeps asking your thoughts on diplomatic issues and news, your thoughts on how to better things for the people and of course, questions about you. Though your heart fluttered at his attentiveness on you, you were still hesitant. But you answered nonetheless.

Then he brought out the dessert and you see how there’s only one plate of it. And it’s for you. You look at Welt confused but he just smiles at you.

“I made this for you.” You get confused at his words before realizing what he meant.

“You mean, you made this cake from scratch?” You ask and he nods his head. As he does that, you see how the red tint on his cheeks and the candlelight seems to be showcasing that so well, he looks so handsome while blushing.

“I didn’t know you enjoyed baking.” You mumble as you pick up the dessert spoon and cut into the cake.

“I’ve been learning how to bake for a while now, this is the only one that turned out well and didn’t burn.” He tells you and you giggle, missing the way Welt’s eyes softened and the way they glanced down at your mouth.

Welt felt nervous seeing you get a piece of the cake and put the piece in your mouth. What if it doesn’t taste good? What if it isn’t how you like it? If it isn’t, he’d make more and more till it’s exactly how you like it.

“It’s good.” You simply say as you take another bite, refusing to meet his eyes. Feeling shy for complimenting him. You hear Welt sigh in relief then he sees you push the plate of cake towards him.

“Try it. A chef should always taste his own food. But in this case, the baker should taste his desserts.” You chime up softly and Welt grins at you.

As he takes a bite, instead of focusing on the taste itself, he realizes it’s the same spoon you ate with. Is this what an indirect kiss is? He thanked whoever he learned his phrase from in his head before looking at you.

“It’s good.” He nods his head and you lightly smile at him.

And the dinner was over like that. All that was left was the silence in the room and just you two looking at each other. You were about to stand up and excuse yourself when Welt got up from his seat and kneeled in front of you. It went by so fast, you couldn’t process everything at once.

“What are you doing?” You ask as he kneels and looks up at you. He grabs your hands that were on your lap and takes them in his larger one. He holds onto your fingers gently.

“I want you to know I’m sorry.” He mumbles. Your heart beats faster when you see him place your knuckles on his forehead.

“Did you make this dinner to have me forgive you just like that?” And he shakes his head.

“This dinner was to be with you. This dinner was so I could dine with my wife and have her eat the food and dessert she likes.” He tells you with such a clear voice as he kisses each one of your fingertips and you feel flutters in your body before you pull away your hands and stand up.

Welt looks up at you from where he's kneeling. You look down at him when you feel him gently stroke your wrist with his fingers before he places his hands on your waist and makes your abdomen face his way, before he leans in and nuzzles his face there.

“Stop.” You whisper out as you hold onto his head but you don’t even push him away, you’re just holding onto his hair. You can hear him inhale your scent by your abdomen before nuzzling even further.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“I think about you day and night. I read all your letters before going to sleep. You’re in my dreams every night, my love.” He continues on as you plead for him to stop but he doesn’t.

“I will be on my knees, apologizing for hurting you the way I did. If it takes me ten years or more, it doesn’t matter how long. I will do anything it takes to make you smile, have you laugh at my dreadful jokes just so I can hear your lovely laughter again. Just so I can have you looking at me and have you see how much I cherish you and love you. Because I do.” At some point when he was uttering these words, you felt your nightgown get wet from where Welt was burying his face on your abdomen.

“I love you.” He looks up and his face is stricken with tears. And you shake your head before pushing him away. “I love you.” He says as he tugs on the ends of your nightgown.

“No you don’t, this is all to make yourself feel better and have me forgive you like you didn’t do anything hurtful to me.” Welt shakes his head, before he could speak you walk away, not being able to handle being alone with him anymore.

You left him alone in the room, on his knees as tears fell down his face. Leaving him with all regret and pain in the world.

—

“Your Majesty, you have been summoned to the council.” Your lady maid announces. You look up from the book you were reading.

“Has something happened?” You ask as you put away the book. Your lady maid looks down on the floor but you don’t miss the way she’s blushing.

“Are you alright?” You ask as you check her forehead and she nods her head. You look at her confused, she’s never acted this way so you can’t question any further since it’s the council summoning you.

“Is the king there?” You ask as you two walk towards the council room. “Yes, my queen.” She answers and you nod your head. Nervous to meet him after what happened days ago. Ever since the dinner night, you haven’t been in close proximity with Welt or alone with him at all. But he never stopped sending you letters.

“Her Majesty, The Queen.”

You enter the room and see all the ministers of the council sitting around the oval table, with the king seated as well. They all stand up as you enter the room, bowing in respect to you. The king however approaches you and you gently accept his offer of taking your hand in his. You sit down on your seat beside him.

“Is something the matter to have the both of us in the council room?” You ask and all the ministers look amongst themselves before looking down. As your lady maid did, they all are blushing but not as much as your lady maid did.

“Is everyone sick?” You innocently ask, not knowing what’s gonna come upon you soon enough.

“My love.” You hear Welt say from beside you. As if on reflex, you turn your head as he calls for you and your eyes widens when you see a red tint on his cheeks. Why’s everyone blushing?

“My queen, there’s been…words going around about a certain topic.” One of the ministers starts off before he coughs before he can continue.

“What word?” You ask and everyone stays quiet before one of the ministers, Dangheng, speaks up.

“There’s been talks of an heir, your majesty.” Dangheng says and you are still confused. “And what is that supposed to entail?” You ask once more.

“Talks of you two still not having an heir, despite being married for more than a year.” Your eyes widen.

“The people want a princess or a prince to welcome to the Kingdom of Astral.” Dangheng finishes and your eyes are still wide open as you clench onto your hands. You did not expect to be summoned for this.

“I think us having an heir is out of question for the moment, as we still want to enjoy our life as two a little more.” Welt speaks up, sensing your surprise and discomfort. Though it wasn’t discomfort, it was nervousness you felt.

Having an heir means you need to get intimate with Welt. You didn’t consummate your marriage on your wedding night. Though nobody knows of that, you understand why the people are talking about an heir to the kingdom.

Then you remember Welt’s words of you two wanting to enjoy your life as just you two. You look away from the ministers to look at Welt. When you see his pair of brown eyes land upon you, your heart flutters so you hastily look away. That moment didn’t go unnoticed by the ministers on the table.

“So me and the ministers at this table have been talking about sending your majesties together to the country and have you two talk it over there.”

—

And here we are.

You climb down from the carriage with the help of the footman. Thanking him gently as you look at the huge mansion in front of you. It’s stunning, especially in the sunlight. There’s a fountain in the middle to the entry and flower bushes adorning the entire front entry of the mansion.

“It’s quite lovely isn’t it?” You hear Welt from beside you and you nod your head. The mansion is very lovely.

As you settle in with the servants packing your suitcases. You decide to take a walk around the mansion. You managed to sneak away from your bodyguard, though you felt bad, you needed some alone time after riding in the carriage the whole day with Welt.

The more you walk, the more you find yourself further away from the mansion. Though it can be seen with its sky high towers, you know you’re far away from it by an hour.

Then you stumble upon a lake with another mansion. The lake was behind it and it was lovely as well. There’s lotus flowers and you get down on your knees, admiring the flower when you hear steps from behind you.

A lady dressed in fine clothing, with a tall man with dark hair beside her. When these two see you kneeled by the lake, they walk towards you.

About to ask who you are, their eyes land on the pin on the right side of your chest and see how familiar you are. It was your royal queen pin. And both of them bow in unison.

“Your Majesty.” They say as you feel embarrassed to have stumbled upon them like this. You didn’t quite expect to meet the Duke of Stellaron and the duchess like this.

“Please, no need for pleasantries. I’m sorry to have stumbled upon your humble abode like this.” You feel truly embarrassed. The Duchess of Stellaron speaks up.

“No need, you are welcome here anytime. We’re the one sorry for not welcoming your majesty’s presence here properly.”

So the married couple of Stellaron takes you on a tour of their mansion. Yingxing, a quiet man of few words, seems to be speaking more with his wife than he does with anyone else. Though he looks stoic, one doesn’t miss the love in his eyes as he looks at his wife. And your heart aches. Your mind automatically goes to the king you left at the mansion.

“Your majesty, if I may ask, what took you this far from the royal mansion?” The duchess asks and you sheepishly chuckle. “Needed some alone time, so I may or may not have run away for just a few hours.” And the duchess giggles.

“I quite understand that husbands can be a little unbearable. This one never leaves my side if he isn’t working.” The Lady of Stellaron says as she pats her husband's chest while grinning ear to ear. The duke who seemed to have gained some red color to his cheeks, stayed quiet.

Then you hear some running from behind you, the duke stands in a defensive mode, grabbing his sword but relaxes when he recognizes the royal soldier insignia on the soldier running towards them.

“Your Majesty!” The soldier pants as he bows before looking up.

“Easy there, breathe now.” You gently tell the soldier and he nods his head. “Your Majesty, the king is looking for you.” The soldier says and you feel quite bad. You did just run away without telling anybody.

“Is he worried?” You ask and the soldier nods his head. “I think the king almost thought he lost you.” And you turned quiet. You see how the duchess smiles at her husband before looking at you.

“I think I need to cut short my walk with you two. I had a lovely time. Thank you.” You tell them sincerely.

“We are most honored to have the queen with us, we’d be most delighted if you came here on an official invite.” You nod your head.

“And keep out a lookout for an envelope for you two as well. I'd love to have you two at the mansion sometime.”

—

As the soldier guides you back, you see the king at the top of the stairs looking out. When he sees you emerge from the flower bushes, he doesn’t hesitate for a second to start running. To you.

Welt crashed into you with a oomph as he wrapped his arms around your body.

“Ouch, you’re quite strong, my king.” You mumble with your arms dangling by your side, not returning his hug. Welt immediately pulls away and looks at you. He cups your face and rests his forehead against yours.

“I thought I lost you.” He whispers. You shake your head. “I was just walking around, met the duke and duchess of Stellaron. Quite lovely people.” You ramble on and Welt looks at you quietly.

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt are you?” He asks softly and your heart beats faster. You shake your head once more. “I’m fine, thank you.” You mumble, as if subconsciously, you gently hold onto his clothes.

“If you want to walk around, take me with you.” Welt says and you nod your head. He smiles at you before leaving a chaste kiss on your forehead.

You didn’t know what to make of what just happened, it happened so naturally you didn’t question it at that moment.

—

Still at the mansion in the country, you still receive the letters from Welt. You have not gained the courage to open any of them, though you want to, some voice in the back of your head is telling you it’s the same thing from a year ago all over again. So you push the thought of reading his letters aside.

You and Welt haven’t pushed the agenda of having an heir. And you think Welt doesn’t seem to be planning to bring it up anytime soon considering how he seems to be devoting all his time to you and you only.

Everyday he tells the cook to only make food you like, bring desserts of your taste to the table and make drinks and teas only you enjoy. Though at some point, you felt frustrated and felt bad. Does he not wanna have something he likes to eat or drink?

Not only that, as soon as he sees you step out of the mansion or hears about that from his servants, he’s at your beck and call. Seems like the day you ran away for a few hours had left quite an impact on him.

Though you can’t push him away everytime he does that, because you do, to your disappointment, enjoy his presence. He seems to not mind you not replying to what he says and lets you stay quiet as he keeps talking.

You two passed by a certain flower bush, you walked past it when Welt stayed behind. He gets on his hunches as he plucks it from the bush. You turned around as to why it turned so quiet and saw how he’s approaching you with the flower in hand.

Your entire body swells in butterflies and you hastily turn around. And you hear Welt’s steps hasten as well and he stands in front of you. And he gives you the lily flower.

It’s your favorite.

Welt sees you hesitating to take it from his hand so he lightly grins at you.

“I can pick up the entire ground of lilies for you if that’s the reason the flower isn’t in your hands yet?” At his words, Welt sees you giggling and he swears the sky never looked bluer, birds started singing and he saw only you in his vision.

Then you take the lily flower and thank him softly. Oh how much Welt wishes he could engulf you in his arms and kiss you to the world's end. But he stayed put and watched you subtly smile while admiring the lily flower.

—

You decided to go out the back of the mansion, and see how there’s a fountain there as well. As you sit down by it, you look into the deep water while fiddling with the royal queen pin on your right side of your chest. When you do, you feel how it’s a bit loose, about to fix it you hear Welt call for you. You turn to look at him the same time as your hand accidentally hits the pin, making it fall into the fountain water.

Your eyes widen and you immediately stand up. You unbutton your clothes and take them off. “Why did you startle me like that?” You glare at him a little. Welt chuckles lightly. “I fetch for someone to get the pin.”

“No need, I do it myself.” You huff out as you slide your dress down your body.

Welt sees all this happen in front of him and stands star struck when you’re left in your white chemise. Then he sees you jump into the water and he immediately runs up to you.

He sees you in the water, looking around then grabs something. When you get up from the water, you try to get yourself up on the fountain so Welt helps you by putting his hands below your armpits and lifts you up. You yelp in surprise a little, but he steadies you on the fountain then doesn’t let go. You sit down on it.

“Why did you do that? Are you hurt?” Welt fusses over you, as he looks at you everywhere with his eyes.

You lift the pin in your index finger and thumb and show it to him. “I am fine, let me go.” You sigh out. Welt does release his grip but not before his hands lightly graze down your sides and you look up at his brown eyes. They’re focused on your body, he doesn’t look up once to look at you. You look down at yourself and see how your white chemise is see through when it’s wet.

Now you’re feeling conscious and flustered, he blatantly stares at your body without any ounce of shame. Almost like he was admiring the view. At that point, a thought wandered into your head. Would he still admire your body if your chemise was off your body?

As Welt stepped away, you almost missed the close proximity and heat from his larger body. He was standing beside your thighs, but had you spread your thighs a little, would that mean he’d be standing between them? Would he pull himself closer to you? Your entire body heats up at these thoughts and your eyes widens.

“Thank you for lifting me up.” You softly mumble as you get down from the fountain and pick your clothes up. You hold them to your chest and walk past him. As you pass by, Welt couldn’t help but let his fingers graze the side of your thighs and your wet chemise. His hand flexes.

When you walk away from him, he wonders if you knew that when you were doing that, it gives him a view of your backside. Your wet dress is sticking to your skin and Welt looks at your inner thighs that got revealed by your dress sliding up. He turns around and groans at himself.

He adjusts his pants but can’t stop thinking about the way your breasts looked below the dress, your nipples perked up and since he stood over you, he could see into them. If he pulled the dress down, would your breasts spill out? Welt groans at the thought. And when he saw your inner thighs? If the dress had slide up a little bit more, he had seen everything above the thighs.

Welt has a long day ahead of him.

—

A little few days later, you get summoned to Welt’s office in the country mansion. This has never happened before, you can’t help but worry.

“I have to go back to the palace, the ministers needs me for a diplomatic task that requires me to be there in person.” Welt explains and you sigh in relief.

“Do you wanna come with me? We can always come back here as soon as the task is solved.” Welt gently tells you as he steps closer to you.

“I can—“ realizing what you’re about to say, you stop yourself but see how Welt is staying quiet, letting you finish your sentence.

“I can wait here for you.” You softly mumble and Welt’s heart swoons and swells in love for you. How he managed to not take your lips in for a kiss is a wonder.

And when Welt was gone, you didn’t know how much of a bore it’d be. If you weren’t busy with your hobby, eating or sleeping, you’d be with Welt. While you’re not much of a chatter yourself, Welt would take up the task and do all the talking.

It was the second day without Welt, and you invited the Duke and Duchess of Stellaron to the country mansion. To say you had a great time was an understatement. You grew to adore the stoic duke, who seemed to know his way with jokes and making his wife giggle and laugh. And the duchess with her teasing remarks and her making her stoic husband blush furiously.

Yingxing excused himself to use the chamberpot, leaving you alone with the duchess. As soon as the duke was out of the room, the duchess didn’t hesitate to turn to you and take your hands in hers.

“So how are you faring, my queen?” At her simple but genuine question, you can’t help but feel a little emotional but you decide to not burden her with your thoughts.

“I’m faring quite well. More than I thought I would actually.” You lightly chuckle as the duchess smiles at you.

“And without your dear husband, the king, as well?” At the mention of Welt, your heart fluttered but you lightly winced.

“Yes.” You simply say. And the duchess gets worried at your behavior but decides to not push it.

About to speak up, the duchess husband gets back to the room and joins you two once more.

The day went by and you bid bye to the couple of Stellaron before retiring for the day. As you were brushing your hair, a knock was heard on the door and you got up on your feet.

A maid was outside with a plate in her hand, on the plate were two envelopes.

“A letter from his majesty the king and the Duchess of Stellaron, my queen.” The maid bows her head and you take the envelopes before thanking her. Closing the door, you look at the envelopes in your hands. You open the letter from the duchess first. Her words in it make you smile. She simply wrote —

‘Your majesty,

Should you need a friend, I’m always just a few hours away.’

You’re most grateful for her companionship and friendship, writing a reminder in your head to thank her in person the next morning. As you put her envelope aside, you see the one from Welt.

Back at the palace for diplomatic reasons, Welt still found time to write you this letter. Your vision gets blurry because of tears forming. Thinking it’s not the end of the world, you open the envelope and start reading its content.

—

The maid gently presses a cold spoon to your eyes, her face full of worry for you.

“My queen, should you need to stay abed the whole day, do tell me.” The maid fusses over you and you chuckle slightly as you shake your head.

“I doubt my eyes are very puffy, dear. You need not worry about me.” And you’re right. It’s not very puffy at all and by the time the duke and the Duchess of Stellaron arrive at the country mansion, the puffiness is gonna disappear.

And so it did, you’re just grateful you carry a pocket mirror in your purse. Exiting the mansion, you see the duke and duchess exit the carriage.

“Welcome, Duke and Duchess of Stellaron. I’m most grateful for you two coming here.” The duchess and duke bows, giving similar sentiments back and you giggle.

“I feel bad for having you two speak with such formality with me considering we had such a lovely time yesterday. I think we’d been the closest of friends.” You grin at them, both of their eyes widen before they soften.

“I think you’re right, my queen.” The duke, Yingxing, says as his wife agrees wholeheartedly.

They joined you for tea before luncheon, and before you realized it, they'd been there the whole day. You called yourself not much of a chatter but this day, you’ve proven yourself differently. A servant entered the room with an envelope and when you saw the familiar stamp, you did your best to hold back your tears. Thanking the servant, you tuck the envelope in your sleeves and glance back at the couple in front of you. They didn’t miss how your expression changed when seeing the letter. Even they recognize the king's stamp.

“Is that from the king?” Yingxing asks and you nod your head. “Aren’t you going to open it?” The duchess asks and you lightly chuckle before shaking your head. “I open it later on, I wouldn’t wanna cut our evening shorter.”

The duchess senses discomfort from you and pats her husband's thigh, signaling him to leave the topic of the king alone, figuring out he’s a sensitive topic.

The evening went on and it was time for the couple to retire back home. So they did and you were left alone once more. You feel the envelope tucked inside your sleeve and you hastily run back inside the mansion. Arriving inside your room, you open the letter and read its content.

He’s coming back tomorrow.

—

Welt has heard word of you being in company with the Duke and Duchess of Stellaron. Before going back to the country mansion, he decides to pay them a visit. They’re on the way after all.

The duke and duchess didn’t expect to see their king on their steps at all. They hurriedly put together a table for him, apologizing for not being able to welcome him properly.

“It’s alright.” Welt chuckles. “I’ve come here to thank you two for keeping my wife company the days I’ve been away. I’ve heard she never looked happier and that’s all I wish for her.” Welt gently tells them. The duke and duchess look at each other, realizing this is quite an out of place behavior. All this time they’d think something was going on wonderfully with you two. But seeing your discomfort at seeing the king's letter yesterday and Welt thanking them, personally, for keeping you company. They never expected this.

The duchess glances at her husband, Yingxings eyes slightly widens in surprise and he grabs onto her hand signaling her a ‘don’t do this’ but the duchess just gulps on air before turning to look at the king. Welt saw the whole ordeal happening in front of him and got confused until the duchess spoke up.

“Your majesty, I hope I’m not crossing a line here. But is everything alright between you and the queen?” The duchess’s question makes Welt flash her a sad smile. Then he lightly shakes his head.

“I have done something to her and I regret it immensely. I can see she is still hurt by what I did.”

“Have you talked to her?” The duchess asks once more. Welt nods his head. “I’ve done everything I can to ease her pain and I apologize every single day.”

“I think my wife means a different kind of talk, your majesty. There must’ve been a reason as to why you’ve hurt your wife, no?” Yingxing says and it’s like Welt got a realization. His eyes widened. This whole time he’s been doing everything to gain your favour and forgiveness without telling you the reason behind why he’s hurt you the way he did. Not to justify his actions but to give you some possible understanding.

Welt hastily stands up, the chair screeches and both the duke and the duchess stand as well before she speaks up.

“I hope you mend your relationship with the queen, your majesty. She’s a lovely person and even if I have known her for a short while, it saddens me to know such a kind person is experiencing a heartache.”

And Welt couldn’t agree more.

—

Your entire body was full of nervousness and anticipation. Though you still remember the pain Welt caused you, your love for him is still there. He’s been gone for almost a week and he’s coming back anytime soon. It’s afternoon and your husband is still not here.

Unbeknownst to you, your husband is scaling up the stairs at such speed, the servants haven’t had the time to greet their king. Welt stands outside your bedroom door, having heard you’ve been cooped up there since morning.

As he stands outside still, your maid opens the door and eyes widened in surprise. About to bow and greet her king, Welt places an index finger on his lips signaling her to stay quiet. She does.

Then he hears your lovely voice he has missed all the days he’s been away from you.

“Did you forget something?” You ask the maid, not forgetting to address her by her name. Your maid yelps slightly when Welt shakes his head.

“Uh- oh! No!” The maid stuttered before she hastily left, not forgetting to bow to her king before she did.

Welt enters your room, as he sees you by your dresser, still in your nightgown and your hair released. He’s never seen you like this. He burns the memory of you like this on his brain. About to speak up, you catch him in the mirror reflection and stand up in a haste.

Then Welt sees how your brows furrowed before your face morphed into anger. He sees you grab a stack of envelopes, before reaching him in a haste and throw them at his face.

“How dare you!” You raise your voice. Welt looks at the envelopes you threw at him and sees it’s the letters he’s written to you.

“What is this—“ he looks at the floor. His eyes widened. “You brought the letters I wrote to you.” He mutters as he looks at the floor. He picks up a letter and opens the letter. Each entry in his letters is always ‘my darling wife’.

“Of course I did, and I regret opening them all.” Hearing how your voice wavered, Welt looks at you. Tears are formed in your eyes. Welt takes a step to you but you take a step back, shaking your head. “No, don’t come closer to me.”

“I need to be close to you.” He pleads softly and you shake your head. “No, especially not after what you wrote to me.”

“Did I write something bad to you?”

“You professing your love for me in the letters is bad enough.”

“Is that so?” Welt takes a step closer.

“Stop!” You take a step back the more he steps closer to you. But to no avail, you feel your dresser at the back of your thighs and you push at Welt’s chest. But since he’s so strong, it’s to no avail. He traps you between him and the dresser, caging you in by placing each hand on each side of you on the dresser.

“Is me loving you really that bad, wife?” You nod your head. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“You’re too late.” You retort and Welt sighs.

“You’re undermining yourself too much.” Welt says and pulls his body closer into you. Your body meets his fully, if he gets closer enough, your breasts will get squeezed up against his chest. Then you feel his hands on your waist before he lifts you up to make you sit on the dresser. Then he stands between your thighs and you try to push him away. He grabs your hands in each hand of his. He sees how much you’ve fiddled with your hands to the point you’ve been scratching at your nails.

“You need to stop doing this.” He softly mumbles as he takes your fingers closer to his face before he kisses your fingertips, all while looking you in the eyes. Your breath hitches and your tears fell down even more.

“It’s never too late to fall in love with you.” He softly tells you, looking into your eyes.

“Stop doing this to me, please. It hurts.” You whine and Welt shakes his head. He lets go of your hands and cups your face. He wipes your tears away but they just keep coming.

“Please, stop crying baby.” He pleads and you shake your head. “It’s all your fault. For hurting me like this, for playing with my feelings and faking those letters. I thought you loved and cherished me.”

“I do, I still love you! You’re all I think about every single second of all days.”

“You’re lying.” You shake your head again. “I don’t believe you.”

“Would you believe me I did this to you out of fear?” And your eyes widen. You look at Welt and see how his eyes are glistening in tears.

“Would you believe me if I said I faked those letters because of my fear of marriage?”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” Your voice shakes. “Did you hurt me because you’re afraid of being married? I don’t understand, Welt.” Said man wishes he could focus on the way you said his name, the way he got to hear your pretty voice utter his name and not by his title.

“Since I’ve grown up, I’ve witnessed my parent’s marriage. To say it was bad is an understatement. Because of these two, marriages have left a bad taste for me.”

“Then why did you marry me?” You grip onto the front of his clothes, trying to shake him. “Why me, Welt? You would have spared me all this misery and your apologies had you not married me!” You cry out.

“Because I loved you the moment I met you!” Welt raises his words as his grip on your face pulls you closer to his face and you flinch in surprise. “I’ve loved you since the day your eyes widened at the sight of me, since the day I heard your lovely voice which continues to play out in my head all day long. Ever since I saw your eyes land upon me, I’ve loved you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I hurt you, baby. Because of my fear and distrust in marriages, I’ve pushed you away and hurt you in the most unimaginable way. Because I loved you so much, I couldn’t break off our marriage. That would mean your smiles would belong to someone else one day and that lucky man would hear your voice every day.”

“And you would not.” You add in and Welt nods.

“The letters Himeko wrote, I’m sorry. I would’ve prevented all this had I told you everything.”

“And you should’ve told me after sending out the first letter Himeko wrote.” You push at his shoulder. “Did you not feel bad for what you did? Not once?”

“Of course I did.”

“Why did you continue?”

“It would mean our marriage would’ve been spent apart unless for our duties. It would mean I wouldn’t hurt you the way my father hurt my mother.”

“But you did hurt me, Welt.” He flinches and nods his head. “I did.”

“How long are you gonna make it up to me?” You ask and Welt looks at you.

“As long as I live.” He sincerely says, looking into your eyes and your grip on the front of his clothes tightens before swatting at his chest . He lets go of his hold on your face, his hands falling down by your side. He was about to turn away when he felt you stop him by wrapping your thighs around his waist.

“You do not walk away from me, Welt.”

Welt looks at you surprised, he feels his body and face flush in warmth at the way you’re squeezing him with your thighs. He wished he wore lighter clothes so he could feel you even deeper.

“I don’t understand-“ You grab his face and lean in to kiss him. Welt’s eyes widen when he feels your lips upon his. Then you pull away. He stares at you for a few seconds before he takes your lips in a kiss. He wraps his hands around your neck and pulls you in to deepen the kiss. The kiss was slow and deep, as if the love Welt professed in his letters to you wasn’t enough, he poured out even more in the kiss. You could cry from this alone and you did. Welt tastes some salt in the kiss, he pulls away panting when he sees how you’re crying.

“Why are you crying? I’m so sorry baby, I’m so-“ his words are cut off by your lips on his.

“I cant-“ he gets cut off when you kiss down on his lower lip. He groans when you nip on his lips then he pulls away once more. You whine at the loss of his mouth on yours. “Baby, please tell me why you’re crying.”

“It’s you!” You cry out before kissing him once more. Welt is surprised but he was also confused, what did he do this time? He just wants to make it up to you and have you quit crying. The sight of your tears is constant daggers at his heart. He can’t stand the sight of them.

He pulls your face away from his and you whimper out once more. “Stop doing that.” You plead, about to go in for one more kiss. Why is he being insufferable? Why can he just let you kiss him?

“I don’t understand what I did, my love. If I don’t know why you’re crying and I’m the reason for it, I won’t be able to survive until I know you’re satisfied with my apologies.” He rambles on and you just stare at him. He grows even more confused but flustered, especially at how you’re glancing down at his lips. And mostly because of the way your hands are trailing down from his face to his collarbone and stopping at his chest. You slide your fingers in the opening of his buttoned shirt, feeling his bare skin on your fingertip. He feels you squeeze him even tighter with your thighs, he almost yelped forward.

“Who told you I was satisfied with your first apologies in the first place?” And Welt turns quiet. You see the screws unfold in his head before you lightly giggle at his reaction, then your giggles turn into laughter when you see he gets even more confused.

“So you pretended to have forgiven me just to kiss me?” He finally catches on to your teasing and your eyes widens. “I didn’t know my darling wife had this side to her.” He lightly gasps and you swat at his chest.

“Maybe if you didn’t make Himeko write these letters and you wrote them in the first place, we would have consummated our marriage on our wedding night.” And then it was your time to shut up. Both yours and Welts eyes widened in surprise at your words. Feeling embarrassed and utterly humiliated by what you said, you push Welt away. He moves to the side and when you get off your dresser and take a few steps away from him, he grabs your wrist and turns you around.

You couldn’t protest before you feel yourself get lifted in the air then suddenly you feel something soft on your entire back. Welt just threw you on your bed. Then he gets on your bed and you try to get away but it’s to no avail.

He pins you on the bed, spreading your thighs as he seats himself between them. He takes off his outer garment, throws it aside before he hovers above you.

“Welt- what are you doing?” You stutter out, flustered at the way he manhandled you so easily. You knew your husband was a strong man, he carried a sword for aeon’s sake. Those things are heavy. Of course he can handle you physically like you weigh nothing.

“I’m not letting you go until you tell me why I made you cry.”

“I have answered your question-oh!” You feel him nip on your neck. He licks the spot on your back before he lightly sucks on it. Soft moans leave your lips as you grip onto his hair.

“No, my darling wife, you did not.” He mumbles against your skin. Now he’s lowering down to your collarbone. Because of your nightgown being of such soft material, it was easy to tug it down. If Welt tugged it even further with his finger, your breasts would spill out of their confinements in your nightgown. He does the same thing he did to your neck on your collarbone.

“Ah! Welt, not there, it’s gonna be difficult to cover up with my dresses.” You manage to say and Welt shakes his head. “If it’s impossible to cover up, that’s good enough for me.” He trails his hands from your collarbone down your sides to grip onto your thighs. As you move below his body to get out of his body hovering over you, you brush your heat against his clothed crotch and Welt moans. You stop in your actions.

“I told you I wouldn’t stop until you answer my question.” Welt mutters out before he lightly rolls his hips against yours and a breathy moan escapes your lips. This feels so good, you run your hands over his back. You crumple his clothes in your hands before you could feel his bare skin on his back.

“Then I won’t answer your question.” Welt’s eyes darken at your words. His hold on your thighs moves up and he squeezes your breasts through your nightgown. You gasp at the touch. He feels how your nipples are perked through your gown and he pinches them through the material. You let out a hitched moan. He does all this while also rolling his hips against you.

“I’ve dreamt about you like this. Below me, at my mercy as you let out sweet sounds by how I make you feel.” Welts words have you deeply sighing. “That day at the fountain? It plays out in my mind every day. Every day I wonder what would have happened had I tugged your chemise off and let your breasts spill out.” You moan at his words and at his hips softly rolling against you. You shake your head, whispering soft ‘stop’ but he doesn’t stop.

“Had I stood between your thighs, would you have let me take you right then and there?” Your eyes widens but you shake your head, Welt chuckles deeply. “Baby, if you react like this, are you sure you wouldn’t let me?” You bite down on your lower lip then give up, your head nods and you see how Welt smiles.

“You would have been with my child already if we consummated our marriage at the fountain.” Welt leans down to whisper by your ear and your eyes widens. Shoots of pleasure run through your body and you feel your heart beat even faster at the thought of what he said. “My child.” He mumbles as he lightly bites down your earlobe. You whine as you shake your head.

“I wouldn’t let you do that.” You huff out but whines escape your lips when you feel how Welt stops rolling his hips against you. He stares at you and you were about to cry because of him doing that when he chuckles.

“Look at you, do you not see how your fingers are fumbling with my pants, my love?” At his words, you look down and see how he’s right. Did you just subconsciously reach down to do this? You grow flustered.

He resumes his hips rolling against yours and you feel a knot form in your lower abdomen. You dug your heels into his back as you grip onto his hair this time.

“Welt, I will-oh!” Your knot in your abdomen grows tighter when you feel one of his hands on your bare cunt and he rolls his fingertips on your clit. As he continues for a few more moments, the knot releases, your thighs shudder and you feel a wave of relief come over you.

“Do you not wear underwear, wife?” And you feel even hotter and flustered than you did before. Welt pulls his hand out from below your gown and you see his fingers covered in your slick. You see how he’s looking at it, then your eyes widen when he takes them in his mouth. “No don’t-“ and his eyes fluttered at the taste of you. Not being able to handle how he reacted to the taste of your essence, you turn your head to the side.

“I cried because your love for me is overwhelming in every way possible.” You ignore his question right now to answer his other one. With your head tilted to the side, your hands fall from his back to hold onto the bed sheets.

“Is it a good thing, my love?”

Seeing you nod your head, Welt felt a surge of happiness wash over him and he slumps his entire body over your own. You let out a oumph because this man is heavy. You push at his side trying to make him get off and release his entire body weight off yours.

“I love you.” He mutters against your neck before he buries his face there. Welt felt happy once more when you, for the first time, wrapped your hands around his body to hug him.

—

The same day, Welt had fallen asleep in your arms. He was lightly snoring with his head on your chest. You were still in your chemise and you felt how sticky your thighs felt when you rub them against each other.

With the heavy man on your body, you tried to not wake him up as you slid your arms away from below him and gently put his head on the pillow. He moves in his sleep but grabs onto your chemise. Even though he's asleep, he’s somehow got a hold on you. You gently unfold his fingers on your chemise and get up from the bed.

You approach the bowl of water, take the towel and clean yourself up. While you do, you remember what had occurred after he came home.

You never knew he hurt you because he grew up with a bad image of a marriage. When it’s understandable why he grew to detest it, it doesn’t justify him hurting you the way he did. But you’re telling yourself his words and actions are sincere. This man has cried in front of you multiple times, he’s put your own comfort before his without hesitation and complains. He’s told you his deepest part of himself.

Your heart and love has always been with Welt, even through the time he’s done everything to have you forgive him. And you have.

As your thoughts wander further, you remember what happened after he told you everything. Your body flushes in warmth and your heart beats faster. The way he made you feel by his body and his hands touching you in your most intimate parts. You hastily clean yourself up and are about to adjust your chemise when you feel a pair of arms wrap around you from behind. You lightly yelp in surprise and Welt giggles at your reaction as he nuzzles his face in your neck.

“It’s gotten late, I didn’t realize we fell asleep.” Welt mumbles against your neck and you hum in reply as you put the towel back in the bowl of water.

You turn around to face him and Welt looks at you. As you look into his eyes, you see how they’re getting wet and you get worried.

“Why are you sad, Welt?” He shakes his head, smiling as you cup his face. He nuzzles his face into your palms. “You’re finally looking at me, I’m just happy is all.” At his words you chuckle.

“Didn’t know you were such a crybaby.” You tease lightly and Welt playfully rolls his eyes. As he did that, a tear fell down and you giggled at the sight. “I think you’ve cried more than me actually.” He sighs and you pout.

“Did you clean yourself up? I thought I ended up in a different bedroom when I didn’t see you in bed.” You nod your head, growing flustered as to why you cleaned yourself up.

“Do you wanna take a bath?” He asks and you nod your head. “Yeah, I’ve been cooped up in the bedroom all day.”

Welt calls for a maid to run a bath for you. As she prepares the bath, she doesn’t miss the two love marks on your neck and collarbone. She hastily looked away blushing and you saw it all. You subconsciously put your hands on your neck as Welt was still in the room. If he sees you flustered, you think he’d tease you all night long. And maybe say these sweet words he told you hours before. Your heart fluttered at the thought.

“The bath is done, your majesty.” The maid says as she bows her head. You thank her softly and the maid sees how your husband is still in the room and how you haven’t undressed yet to get into the bath.

“Fetch a servant for the king, to run a bath for himself as well.” As soon as you utter these words, you feel a warm presence behind you. Welt strokes his fingers up and down your wrist before intertwining your hand.

“There’s no need for that, you may leave.” Welt speaks up from behind you and your body burns up and you grow even more flustered.

“Yes, your majesty.”

The maid bows and leaves you two alone. You didn’t speak a word as Welt undressed himself before helping you. You feared if you did, there’d be no stopping your stuttering. Your heart feels like it’s gonna beat out of its place when you see Welt in his naked glory, which you refused to let your eyes wander further down, get inside the bath and reach his hand out for you to take. And you did. He helps you step inside the bath.

He leans against the bathtub and sees how your body further disappears in the water as you lean on the other side of the bathtub. Welt complains to the aeons in his head, why’s the water of cream-ish colour? Had it been clear water, he would be able to see your beautiful body. Welt internally slaps himself for his perverse thoughts.

“You could’ve had a bath run for yourself.” You mumble. He sees you draw circles on the water and he smiles. “And not take the chance to have a bath with my lovely wife?” He grins at you. He takes your hand and tugs you forward. But you don’t budge.

“Come on.” Welt pouts and you shake your head. “No.” You simply say and Welt pouts even more.

“Why not?” And you shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know.” You say as you submerge your lower half of your face in the water. Welt looks at you confused but then he sees how you refuse to meet his eyes. And it clicks in his head.

“Are you nervous, my love?” Your eyes widened in surprise and you shook your head. “No I’m not.” You retort and Welt chuckles.

“You are.”

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are nervous.”

“I said I’m not!” You stand up in haste from the bath. Which resulted in water almost splashed at Welt. He wipes the water that landed on his face with his hand before he looks at you. You’re standing with your fists by your thighs and there’s water droplets running down your body.

You look like you’ve been carved by the aeons themselves. You are divine.

You realized what you did when you felt Welt’s hand graze yours. When he softly strokes your wrist before softly intertwining your fingers, he lightly tugs you forward.

“Come to me.” His voice was deep but so gentle, all you did was quietly obey despite your eyes widening a little.

He made you sit in between his thighs and when his brown eyes locked with yours, you felt your body flush but all he did was show you a gentle smile. He gently cups your face, leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“If you place your hand on my heart, you’d feel how fast it’s beating when I’m in close proximity to you.” He confesses softly by your ear then pulls away. So you place your hand on his chest and he’s right.

It’s pounding so fast and hard against his skin, if it was possible, you think you could hear his heartbeats without a tool for it or being far from him.

You feel his hands trail down the sides of your body and then he lightly turns your body around. As if it’s a common thing, you lean your body against his chest. His arms are warm and snug as they’re wrapped around your waist.

“My heart has been like this ever since I met you. If I hear your familiar steps, or mentions of you, it truly feels like all my heart and soul wants to do is to be with you.” His words do nothing but bring happy tears to your eyes as your own heart swells up in love for him. You feel him stroke your abdomen, rubbing circles on your skin and you feel so content and in love.

“I regret every day for hurting you. And I regret not being a good man to you.”

“But you are, even if I have said something different from that months ago.” You hastily throw in as you look up at him and you hear Welt chuckle.

“My love, a good man doesn’t hurt the one he loves. Which I did.” He strokes your cheek softly and you shake your head.

“But you made it up to me, have you not? In every words you’ve written to me in your own letters and in every single thing you’ve done for me.” You tell him as you flip your body around. You kneel in front of him as you cup his face.

“You may have hurt me deeply but you gained my forgiveness. You have earned me back, Welt.” You told him, looking into his eyes and Welt’s brown eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe your words.

“Have I, truly?” He sounded so unsure and you flash him a soft smile. Before speaking up once more, you take your seat on his lap by placing each thigh of yours beside each side of his body. Welt looks down at how your body is connected so intimately and he holds onto your waist.

“A man who hasn’t earned me, wouldn’t make my heart race out of its place in my ribcage and have it be held in your hands to be kept safe.“ Welt’s eyes flicker all over your face and he sees such a genuine smile on your face and his grip on your waist tightens.

“If you haven’t earned me, I wouldn’t have loved you even during the times you did everything to gain my forgiveness.” You see how his eyes wells up in tears and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your mouth.

“I knew you could be this endearing ever since I saw you enter the lounge room when we first met each other.” You stroke his cheek with your thumb and Welt chuckles lightly.

“What I didn’t know is that I would have fallen for the same man who blushes at the mere presence of me and whose heart escapes his chest every time when I’m in proximity or mentioned.” You confess to him and tears fall down Welt’s eyes.

“I’m sorry for all I did.” He shakes his head, his voice quavering and you lightly shake yours. “I know you are.” You softly tell him.

“I love you endlessly.” His grip on your waist is hardening and your own eyes wells up in tears at the raw emotion and the pure love you feel emitting from Welt. “I love you, Welt.” His tear stricken eyes and face stills before he pulls your body in closer and rubs his face in your bare chest, his hands grazing up and down your bare back, squeezing you here and then.

“Every moment of my day is spent thinking of you, not a day goes by where I don’t wanna see your beautiful face or hear your voice. Not a day in this world is there a moment I don’t love you.” He leans away and holds your neck gently, gazing into your eyes and you lightly bite down on your lips at the intense stare of his eyes and how much love you can see in them. All of it feels overwhelmingly good.

“I may be a king of this kingdom and to the people, but I am yours.” He articulated so firmly, you didn’t know what else to do but just softly nod your head as you softly suck in your bottom lip and Welt’s eyes flickers down to your lips. He subconsciously leans in and you do as well but your mouths just brushes against each other. It’s as if this could be the first time you feel each other's lips upon each other.

“Can I kiss you?” His whisper was quiet but you heard it. A soft chuckle leaves your lips before you nod your head. “Yes.” You mumble out before he presses his lips on yours.

It felt like you could finally breathe, so you breathe into the kiss before kissing Welt back. If he didn’t verbally confess his love, this would be it. Your lips a tangled mess, all you could do is kiss and kiss, flutter your hands down his chest and feel his bare skin.

Greedy and needing more and more, Welt gently squeezes your neck as you softly moan into the kiss before he tilts your head to deepen the kiss deeper than ever. Your hands reach up tug on his hair and pull his head back, to meet his lips in a needier kiss.

Welt’s hand flutters down your body and your body flutters in ecstasy at his touch, even his touches are overwhelmed with love. You’re soft and warm everywhere as his own body is firm and hardened against yours.

With a firmer tug to his hair, Welt groans into the kiss and you take the chance to nibble and suck on his tongue and drew a guttural sound from him as you continued down to nibble on his lower lip. Your lips wander down to his jaw, pressing kisses and emitting sounds from Welt you’d imagine about. Your lips wander further down to his neck, at a certain spot, it had Welt squirming from below you and you decided to give that one place more attention. Attention by sucking before lightly biting down, extracting a breathy moan from his mouth.

About to continue, you felt Welt wrap his hands around your neck before he leaned your head away. You let out a soft whine before you got shut up by a rough kiss, you moan into his mouth before a gasp draws out from you when you feel Welt’s hand on your backside.

“Marking me like that, my love, I could have come from that alone when I’d rather do that inside of you.” This was his first mention of coming inside you and you felt your heat squeeze down on nothing.

“Coming inside just to fill me up or to make me with child?” And his hips bucks into your cunt from below and you moan at the friction you felt.

“Careful, I did also say I wanna enjoy our time as two for a while.” He says against your mouth and a soft whimper is heard from you before you nod your head. So it’s just to fill you up, you think to yourself, your entire body feels like it’s on something else than just ecstasy. It feels like an addiction.

And to Welt, you are an addiction. The way your body responds to him, the way only he can make such sweet sounds emit from your soft lips and the way he’s the only one to have you. You might not have said it yourself, but while Welt is yours, you are wholeheartedly his.

It is an obsession.

—

The Duke and Duchess of Stellaron were met with their king and queen at their doorstep, without guards and footmen. They were holding hands and the king had a reddish color to his cheeks. And the queen’s smile was so big, you’d wonder if her cheeks hurt. The happiness was immense if you looked at the two.

Apparently you and Welt decided to do a little runaway from the country mansion, have a little time for you two without your staff. The duke and the duchess couldn’t hold back their laughter when you told them of how you managed to be alone without your staff.

To be with these two, you’re glad you found a friendship in them.

You were walking side by side with the duchess, arms linked together as her husband and yours walked in front of you, chatting away about something.

“You look happy, my queen.” The duchess softly says and you look at her with a smile.

“I am happy.” You assure her and she smiles back at you.

“I’ve always felt your smile wasn’t wholeheartedly real just a week ago. I suspect the king is the reason behind your smile right now.” You giggle at the duchess's words before nodding your head.

“We had a long year and to have mended our relationship, it has lightened my shoulders. And I also have you to thank for it.” The duchess stills in surprise, you know she’s gonna ask what she could have possibly done to make it better. So you speak before she could.

“My husband told me of how you suggested that he shall talk to me, not just apologize. While my husband may be a wise king, as a man I doubt he’d think of that solution.” You chuckle at your own words and the duchess tries to hold back her laugh. But in the end, she stops you two from walking and takes your hand in a soft grasp.

“I’m truly happy to see my dear friend and my queen, to be so happy. And I’m glad a simple solution of mine has made your relationship with the king better.” You softly thank her once more and as you’re about to continue your walk with the duchess, your husband approaches you.

“My love, our guards have found us.” Welt says as he points behind him and you giggle. He looks almost defeated to have his escapade with you ended so quickly. And his talk with the duke, whose company he’s grown to enjoy. And have possibly found a friendship in.

“I think it’s time for us to go home, Welt.” You tell him as Welt takes your hand in his and he sighs, agreeing much with your words.

—

The staff at the royal mansion in the Kingdom of Astral have never seen their king and queen this happy. While Welt always takes your hand as he helps you down the carriage, you two immediately went to your own routines when entering the mansion, but this time, you two are engaged in a handhold.

The floor your bedchamber and Welt is at, has become different as well. It was well known that the king and queen never shared a bedchamber but to see you two enter one bedchamber together and share it, the staff couldn’t help but feel only happiness for you two.

“Do you think the servants find it uncommon for us to share a bedchamber now?” You ask Welt from your chaise as you comb your hair. He’s taking off his robe, revealing his toned and firm upper body. Disappointingly, he kept his pants on.

“I can imagine it’s an unusual sight for them.” He replies as you nod in agreement. Welt comes up behind you. He takes the comb in your hand and brushes your hair for you.

“This is our first night together in this bedchamber.” You hear Welt say and your heart flutters. A year ago, you started having separate bedchambers and now a year later, you’re sharing one.

“I can go to the other one if you want to.” You tease Welt but he doesn't seem to catch on, so he stops brushing your hair and stills in shock. You see his reaction from the mirror of your dresser. You turn around and you laugh, Welt’s eyes widened as he catches on. He falls down on his knees, burying his face on your lap.

“Oh aeons, you frightened me.” He breathes out in relief as you giggle. You run your fingers through his brown hair. “I don’t think I can’t go a day without sleeping in the same bed as you.” You hear Welt huff out and you giggle once more.

“Then you shall never hurt me, nor I you.” You say as Welt looks up. He holds your waist and kneels in between your thighs. As tall he is, he is still taller as he kneels in front of you. He nods his head firmly.

“I vow to never hurt you, I promise you that.” You smile at him as you nod your head. “I know you do.” You assure him.

“And if you hurt me, I possibly deserved it.” You lightly swat his chest at his words as he grins at you. Then he stands up as he grabs your hand. He pulls you to the bed. You get in the covers as Welt does it as well. Not a second passed by when your head touched the pillow, Welt’s arms are wrapped around you and your body is plush against his chest.

You place your forehead on his bare shoulder, breathing in his scent by the V of his neck. He smells so good. You didn’t miss the touch of Welt pressing a loving kiss on the top of your head.

“I love you.” He utters softly as he cranes his head down to brush his lips against your mouth. You smile softly, rubbing your lips against his. “I know you do.” You mutter back. And Welt knows you love him back.

—

pervert welt gets me going whouhfffffff

Also if you read till the end, thank you so much! i hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I enjoyed writing this >< leave a like and reblog if you did, would be so much appreciated mwah

[iceunhie]

— PUSH AND PULL : honkai star rail.

premise. as someone who's always believed in the term “try and try again,” (peak delusion, you know) rooting yourself in their heart has always been your goal, no matter the cold rejections and curt declines you receive. however, even you have your limits; perhaps this little push and pull you two have going isn't worth your time after all... but what happens then, if the chaser becomes the chased? (oh, how the turns have tabled.)

...or, when you play hard to get with them.

— ft. sunday, aventurine, jing yuan.

warnings: angst n fluff, messy messy, these boys are in love but are wayyy too chicken to admit they actually adore you, genderless reader.

a/n. inspired by @/xiaowhore's playing hard to get headcanons! my holy trinity 😇 n MY FAVES RAHHH

NEXT : BACK TO MASTERLIST || ASKBOX

SUNDAY is perplexed. very much aware of his qualities which enlists him as one of the finer (finest) bachelors of Penacony (he was the Robin's one and only blood, and was also the head of one of the main guiding forces of the Family, after all), sunday isn't sure he's ever come across someone as.... tenacious as you.

foolish, to be more precise, for he cannot for the life of him comprehend exactly why you are the way you are with... him.

no matter his respectful declines of your invitations to promenade around Penacony (re: going on dates), you really didn't know how to leave him be. though he hasn't exactly said he hated it, sunday was, admittedly, rather... affronted. your gifts, in particular, were your loud declarations of your affection (that make his wings flutter more rapidly than he'd like); but sunday was rather inconvenienced at the whole thing.

nonetheless, he does still accept them. reluctantly, mind you. not because he was fond of your constant shower of affections, which seemed so permanent that he began to look forward to them got used to it. to your credit, your gifts were very much to his tastes. (Robin once gave him a rather soul-searching look when he found himself wearing the gloves you gifted, light blue and white in color. he still uses it, just not when his sister is in the vicinity.)

in fact, perhaps he may have gotten too comfortable. little by little, your constant intrusions on his time have thawed a way to his heart; making sunday look forward to your jovial greetings and grandeur elaborations on your day, and such a thing makes him feel scared sunday needed to nip this in the bud, and fast.

so he confronts you, abruptly one day as you give him his newest gift—a jewelry box for his earrings. (surely, the rapid thumping of his heart was due to his irritation at your constant persistence, right?) “i'm afraid this can no longer continue. i am flattered by your... fancy for me, but i do not wish to enter a relationship in the near future.”

the utter silence that follows is torture to him—but he endures. he tries not to look at the momentary flash of hurt on your face. you seemed to quickly recover, though. giving him a simple smile (it didn't reach your eyes. it shocks him how his chest ached at the realization) and shaking your head when he returns the gift to you.

“i understand, mr. sunday.” the formal usage of his name instead of your chipper ‘sunday!’ makes his face twitch. “but please, keep the gift. think of this as my last declaration. it... would do me a great comfort, just this last time, if you accepted it instead.”

(if he had grabbed your hand at that moment as you left for the door, would he regret it?)

when you leave, sunday thought it would put the conflicting feelings in his mind at ease—but it doesn't. a week and two days counting, true to your word, sunday receives no flagrant gifts, nor little messages on his phone that tell him to take care of himself, to eat, and to make sure to remember to check up on Robin.

instead, contrary to the feeling of ease, regret follows him instead.

it's at two weeks and five days counting when sunday could no longer stand the sight of papers that stacked atop his desk and the image of you leaving for the door replaying in his head far too many times for him to count, that he contacts Robin.

and she, once hearing about the situation, gives him a very, very enlightening talk. (of course, not without giving her brother a lecture of the lifetime. part of him felt shame to know that his sister knew of his... turbulent love life, but she was the only one who he could trust, anyway).

“absence makes the heart grow fonder,” she says. “but in your case, brother, your heart has already decided it's course, right?”

sunday eyes the smooth velvet of the jewelry box you gifted, ruminating. his earrings lie there, carefully pristine and beautiful, gold and silver intertwined. he has worn them without fail, clean and spotless. (of course it was. such a design so intricate was only chosen by you. the thought makes his ears warm).

the next days are agonizing. vigor renewed and epiphanies well-spent, sunday spends the rest of his time after finishing his duties researching and painstakingly finding the best jeweller he can find (even employing the suggestions of a certain gambler, much to his dislike), and spending a god awful amount of time revisiting and rechecking which spots you like, which places you enjoy, to the point it comes up in Penacony's headlines that sunday is interested in someone.

surely, it should've reached your ears by now, yes? sunday panics. your preferences are well-accounted for, and he's sure the Bloodhound family members that report to him have to tell you that the person he had in mind was you. even Robin, who was your closest friend, has probably told you already.

it's embarrassing to admit, but; to hell with it, the day he meets you after three weeks and sees you having a pleasant chat with aventurine, of all people, sunday thinks his heart had shattered into little pieces and stabbed themselves into his body. not so much as sparing him a glance, moreso.

so when, finally at his wits end, sunday chooses to corner you at the dewlight pavilion and spills out how he has royally screwed up in the worst way possible, no one is surprised. at this rate, you would be swept up in the charms of that wretched gambler, and what sunday lacked in, aventurine more than made up for.

“wait, don't go to that gambler just yet.” he's breathless, he's chaotic—and something in his heart squeezes when you finally look at him. “i... i wish to take up your time now, if that's possible.” (he wishes he would take up your time forever, really, but that was still too early).

you eye his getup. all of your gifts, lined on the man you spent so long chasing after—you see the gloves you gifted, the tie with not so much as a single crease, and the earrings that shine more brightly in the light of the pavilion. (it suits him. like you) it was as if sunday had completely surrendered himself to you, had all but decided to proclaim that he was yours, and this was nothing short of a plea for you to hear him.

“please.” he says. almost begs. “i can't bear not seeing you anymore. allow me to correct such a damning mistake.”

and if you were skeptical, the way sunday looks at you would dispel any doubt you could ever have. (his wings, they were fluttering.)

(months later, after a nerve-ending confession, many days of dinners, shared gifts involving matching jewelry and promenading to your wishes, it dawns on sunday he was absolutely dancing to your tune. did he regret it, though?

....no, most certainly not.)

if AVENTURINE were to be honest with himself, he saw you as a useful “friend” rather than a romantic interest. was it bad of him? of a sort. but risk cutting himself open and letting someone he might grow to care for know about all the ugliness that follows his life? no, he's fine as it is, thanks.

the first thing he notices is that you're kind—though he distrusted most of his colleagues and preferred none to get close to him, aventurine, in some morbid moment of curiosity, instead allowed himself to bask in your attention. instead of curtly disparaging you, he flirts back at your compliments (the way your face heated up in return was far too endearing that he can't help but want to kiss you he finds it amusing) and consistently texts you a “did you get home safe” or a “i bought you this because it reminded me of you”; at this point, it was like you two were dating.

was it leading you on? yes, but he supposes it was a win-win; he could send you those tiny bits of validation that was enough for you to stay respectfully at a distance while he probed at your intentions. unlike others who attempt to garner his favor, you're genuine, and you seriously take the time to know him. because you always text back with hearts, always reassure him, tell him to stay safe and wish him luck at every gamble, every high stakes bet he finds himself in. you even complimented his perfume once (and, if he had to be honest, he could not stop thinking about it all day—because that perfume he commissioned exclusively was based off of your own favorite scents and it was extremely embarrassing that he loved hugging you knowing that you loved the way he smelled and that it felt extremely domestic).

(sometimes, he doesn't reply. for months on end. suddenly the golden-haired man you love goes cold and you know then that aventurine ghosts you and then returns when he's in need of a friend—never a lover. it hurts you, but at the very least, you know he cares in his own way.)

and, if aventurine had to be honest, it was killing him from the inside bit by bit. as if to drive the knife deeper, you never danced around what exactly was going on with you two. you never ask why he ghosts you, then sends you a bundle of gifts all of a sudden and then rapidly spends time with you and repeating the cycle. no, you were consistently by his side, so warm and so caring—so unlike him—that aventurine wonders if it's really all right to open his heart to you.

if, by some chance, he actually wanted to be with you, would you treat him even more sweetly than before? aventurine thinks you would—you were beautiful in your entirety, and he was practically undeserving of you. he imagines himself kissing your hand and having you in his arms—and that feels like ice cold water being dumped onto his head, because you could do so much better and yet, why him?

so when aventurine hears about how a certain doctor was visiting you for some unknown reason, his already fragile sense of security in this little will-they, won't they crumbles.

and when he finds out that you were staying over with ratio? something twisted lodges itself in the little brushes of his heart, coiling and coiling—making him feel green. aventurine is aware you and the doctor are good friends, and ratio was the one who even told you to make a move on him! how could he just—suddenly interrupt?!

(was it dramatic? extremely. but knowing his friend and the person he secretly adores might end up together? you can't really blame him.)

he supposes this can be attributed to him. it was an egregious mistake, a blunder aventurine made—he never gave you a clear sight of whether he truly loved you or not and now you're slipping away from him.

so, he does something very unexpected.

at 3:00 AM in the wee early morning hours, aventurine practically barges into one Dr. veritas ratio's home, demanding what the hell was going on between you. and as if he had expected it, his doctor friend merely gives him a shrug in return.

“perhaps they were simply getting fed up by a certain IPC member—who is clearly head over heels in love with them—giving them mixed signals.” ratio's tone is stern, and aventurine definitely knows that the look he gives him is the one he gives only to fools.

you idiot, the doctor seems to say. yeah, yeah, he is; aventurine ignores the clear pinprick at his dignity.

yes, he supposes he is the fool here. “ah.”

“yes, ‘ah,’ indeed. now, let me propose a question.” the purple-haired man says. “will you react in such a way when i tell you that in order for my friend to stop their anguish, i managed to get them to fraternize with one of my colleagues?”

“...what?”

“they will be having a meet-up seven system hours from now.” ratio shrugs. eyes aventurine, who's looking at him like a gaping, stupid fish. “i can only hope that no one would dare to disrupt.”

...it doesn't take him long to be rid of the gambler by then.

(a few hours later, you stop by the Intelligentsia Guild to see one veritas ratio with a smug smile, eyeing the fur coat draped around your shoulders, and the flushed and happy expression written on your face.

“did it work?” he asks.

you laugh, “splendidly.”

indeed, that gambler was a fool, and there's nothing more than dr. ratio loved than to educate such fools to shape.

“that will teach him.”)

as a quote unquote ‘old man’ who knows that he's well up in his years for a relationship, JING YUAN finds you to be quite amusing.

it doesn't take a detailed analysis to know that you were smitten with him, really. you're a complete open book by his standards—if your heated face and slightly airy voice whenever you were even placed in the same vicinity with the Dozing General was anything to come by. while flattering, he also shares the similar mindset of being too old for any love his way—and he could be mara-struck at any given time, and jing yuan does not wish such a life filled with anguish and pain for the one who may steal his heart. but, worry not, brave suitor of the Arbiter General! unlike the other two above, this man has the experience of millenia, and is open-minded and aware that you truly wish to be perceived as a potential lover.

in fact, jing yuan's recent favorite habit is sneaking off the Seat of Divine Foresight purely to freak you out, watching you scramble up your words, seeing the heat crawl up your nape and bloom all across your face. adorable. you certainly knew how to appeal, that's for sure.

(“heh, it seems i've found a new place to stay in so that the Diviner Fu won't grill me alive when she sees me.”

and when he's rewarded with a bashful and speechless look in return, a smile and your, “i'm glad, general.” it surprisingly lightens up his mood by more than he expected.

that, in turn, gives him a frightening 30% energy boost; fu xuan was utterly shocked to see the languid man actually working and looking like he enjoyed it, for once.

“did something good happen today, jing yuan? why so enthusiastic?”

“i just felt like working more than usual, diviner Fu. i seem to have my energy levels at a high.”)

now, jing yuan is considerate and perceptive first and foremost, so there's a high chance that out of all the men here, he is the most open to giving you the chance to pursue him. he does inform you beforehand that he has no plans of accepting your confessions in the future, and that is where the ‘hard to get’ part comes in.

it's like playing a confusing romance visual novel with a fickle love interest—you never really know what you're doing, whether it's something jing yuan would like or not, and you don't know if he even thinks your attempts are moving his heart. (tldr: he friend zones you).

he maintains the same distance no matter his banters with you, no matter how many times you tell him that you'd help yanqing out with sword lessons. it's like he was just... treating you as he would a friend, and that you were basically stuck in the friend-zone forever.

(he keeps it to himself, but something warm stirs in his chest when he sees yanqing sleeping on your shoulder after training practice, with your arm protectively around the boy's side.

your sleeping face didn't make it easy to look away either; it's one of the few moments in which jing yuan shows just the slightest bit of reciprocating your pursuits; he brushes back the stray hairs covering your face, and drapes a blanket over the two of you.

of course, perhaps to tease yanqing, he also takes the calligraphy brush and makes a work out of his face, doodling all over it.

when you wake up, there's a lingering scent of ink and yellowed paper that fills your senses. when you turn to the boy beside you, you almost giggle out loud.)

it's a little disheartening—and while jing yuan did acknowledge that you were slowly, slowly burrowing yourself in his heart, he doesn't act on it fast enough, and instead lets the realization sit in his mind for a while.

it gets to the point where it feels as though he were preparing to distance himself, and even yanqing had asked if he was well. your visits with the Arbiter General also decrease, as he suddenly buried himself in his work even more than before.

he doesn't get to see you all that much afterwards, despite the lingering feeling of missing you filling his heart.

....that's until jing yuan hears word of a recent mara-struck incident involving the Sky-faring Commission; with your name listed among those heavily injured.

when he visits Bailu's clinic after yanqing urges him, jing yuan takes in the sight of you, littered in injuries from head to toe. your life, about to snap. he never even told you that you won; you did manage to steal his heart and for the first time in a long time, jing yuan allows himself to love.

so if, after three weeks later when you're finally healed up and ready to go, jing yuan brings you into his arms and drags you to let him sleep in your lap, you can't really blame him now, can you?

a/n: i love yearner hsr men,,, might do a pt 2 though. thinking of mayb ratio, jiaoqiu and f/heng next time...... sighs dreamily

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

[princealberich]

HOW DO I COMPLAIN TO HOYOVERSE?

It's easy, and there are MULTIPLE things you can do! I recommend doing each item on this list.

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As of right now, the petition has nearly 38k signatures.

2. EMAIL HOYOVERSE

Email them directly at [email protected] to state how this has affected your desire to continue playing their games.

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Genshin Impact has frequent update surveys, and there is a permanent option to give feedback at any time. You can find it in the Paimon Menu.

4. REVIEW BOMB

Rate Hoyoverse's games, particularly Genshin, with one star on the app store. This has already proven in the past to have an effect, when this caused the team to review the anniversary rewards.

Here is a guide on how to do this!

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Do not be silent! Speak up about your displeasure. It's important that these comments outweigh the rest! Show that we are the MAJORITY.

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Use the tags!

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DO NOT engage with trolls or racists. Block and report.

WHY IS THIS IMPORTANT?

It's easy to dismiss this in the face of 'more important' issues in the world at the moment, but Genshin Impact (And by extension, Hoyoverse) is a very influential game and company. It is extremely popular, and directly influences MANY other games and players through this popularity.

This isn't an issue of 'just stop playing'- This is not anger for a game's decisions, it's anger for a precedent. It's a demand that not only should Hoyoverse care about representation, but other, smaller, companies too. If Hoyoverse can get away with it, so can others- But if Hoyoverse is held accountable for their exploitation of culture, then it sets the precedent that other companies have no chance of doing the same.

Like it or not, Hoyoverse has a lot of influence, and the CCP itself values the company for giving China a positive image in other countries. This is bigger than just being mad at character design.

EDIT: It was also pointed out to me that if POC were to simply stop engaging with hostile content, they would have nothing left. 'Just stop playing' isn't fair, plain and simple. POC deserve to play the things that they enjoy WITHOUT being ostracized.

DOES HOYOVERSE LISTEN?

They listen if there's no money lining their pockets, they listen if their reputation is damaged, and they listen if the CCP gets involved. We have direct evidence of this.

Review bombing alone caused Hoyoverse to reconsider the first anniversary rewards.

The CCP forced Hoyoverse to reskin various characters to comply with their laws, which HYV did. (This isn't necessarily a good thing, however, it is still evidence that CCP has influence over them.)

This is by far the largest outcry the company has seen so far, and MANY of HYV's voice actors have spoken out in support for the movement as well. This is not just playerbase complaints, but staff, too.

I recommend following AvenOfStrats on X/Twitter for further updates on the petition's progress, and on other ways to contribute. They also share plenty of resources on why this is important, and guides on how to complain.

[yyuangss]

GIRL TALK ! ( STAR RAIL MEN )

SUMMARY ! march 7th finds out you like someone. and as your best friend, it’s only right that she has to give her input on whether or not she approves of him.

NOTES ! i was in the mood to write something but this was last minute and this was all i could come up with 🤺 may do a part two featuring other star rail men but we will see. part two of girl talk (gepard, dr. ratio, aventurine, and boothill)

TAGS ! reader is not the trailblazer. contains dan heng, caelus, sampo koski, jing yuan, and argenti. feelings are mutual on both ends.

march 7th’s thoughts on . . . DAN HENG !

immediately tells you that she already had her suspicions. and now that you confirmed it, it makes her all that more excited. you having a crush on dan heng is just what she expected. she’ll go on and on about how you two would make a great couple because he opens up more to you. now she gets a little sneaky and begins to make up excuses whenever missions come around so that the two of you can go together. it’s her own way of being a mastermind. the more time you two spend together, the closer she is to seeing you and dan heng start dating. yes, march has dubbed herself as your personal wingwoman. so is the duty of being your best friend.

march 7th’s thoughts on . . . CAELUS !

of course she finds it cute that you have a crush on caelus. and it all makes sense to her now. she constantly hears you and caelus making the same kind of jokes, watches you two play games together on your phones, and on rare occasions, she’ll find you rummaging through trash cans with caelus. though she doesn’t know why you’d go to such lengths and go through the trash cans with him. admitting your feelings for the newest trailblazer will only make march relentlessly tease you about it in the best way possible. so whenever caelus invites you to join him in whatever shenanigan he has planned for the day, she’ll send a quick wink your way.

march 7th’s thoughts on . . . SAMPO KOSKI !

she’s mentally judging you. definitely finds this as a “to each their own” type of situation. out of everyone you guys have met, the one you have feelings for is sampo. march isn’t too fond of him despite how much he has helped them during their time in belobog. she does have a few doubts here and there, but if he’s currently the one who you’re interested in, she’ll go along with it. march has to observe the way he acts before making any big decisions like setting you two up. she can tell the feeling’s mutual by the overly flirtatious comments sent your way or gifts you receive by sampo when visiting belobog again. she’ll sometimes peek over your shoulder and see some messages coming in from him, asking when you’ll come back to see him. she could grow used to him so let her work her magic and you’ll be with him in no time.

march 7th’s thoughts on . . . JING YUAN !

the general of the luofu is a tough decision. although she believes he’s a great choice considering his high rank and popularity, it’s also a bit of a downfall. she saw some heavy chemistry between you both back when the express was currently at the luofu. she didn’t have enough time to make some comments but she knew you’d end up having some sort of feelings towards him. she’s only worried about the cons that could come. like the fact jing yuan can become a busy man within seconds. would he make enough time for you? no, he needs to because someone like you deserves it. march refuses to let her best friend settle for anything less than what she’s worth. march can trust that you’ll be in good hands with jing yuan.

march 7th’s thoughts on . . . ARGENTI !

it’s a very interesting choice in her opinion. though she understands why you’d end up gaining feelings towards him. it had to be that compliment he gave you the very first time the express met him. “a beauty that was sent by the goddess idrila herself for him to praise”. very poetical that it had the entire crew speechless for a few seconds. march hasn’t stopped bringing it up since that happened because you had never gotten that flustered before. she can only imagine all the other compliments argenti has sent your way when they’re not around. whenever you’re smiling at your phone a little too hard, thinking no one is watching, she’ll head over your way asking if your boyfriend’s the one making you all smiley. march doesn’t even need to be your wingwoman for this one. she knows the knight will handle it all on his own.