Promise I belong with you, and only you...
★ → rose, rosie, she/her, 8teen, black
→ rules, hsr, genshin
you can find all my works under the tag: rxse4u
soulmate!blade always felt like the mark on his right hip was a curse. why would the aeons even bestow him a soulmate after all these years? centuries of ceaseless torment that flowed along with an eternal life. the mark, a delicate constellation-like pattern, seemed out of place on someone like him. someone hardened by centuries of conflict and burdened by the weight of immortality.
soulmate!blade, despite all the memories that were chipped away, the recollection of when the mark first appeared still burned in his mind. he had been foolish, believing in the promise of a soulmate. a destined partner.
soulmate!blade's belief withered as the years turned into decades, and decades into centuries. the mark turned into a cruel joke, reminding him of what he couldn't have. of what he wanted. he closed himself off, a distraction from the emptiness that gnawed at him.
but, soulmate!blade, often, in the midst of tranquility, would catch himself tracing the mark, etching its shape into his mind.
until you.
elio had taken a liking to you, prompting you to join the stellaron hunters. it hadn't taken long for you to find interest in blade. although he kept his distance, choosing to only interact with you in simple, short conversations.
until you inquired about his past. kafka hadn't mentioned anything to you and wouldn't even when you asked. it had led you to be desperate for answers, seeking them straight from the source.
but blade snapped at you, wanting to keep things private. he saw no reason to indulge in whatever you were trying to accomplish.
emotions flared within blade. the tranquility he used to feel was replaced with anger, nails digging into skin, desperate to claw the mark out. he didn't know why, and it hurt—a dull ache in his chest that never went away.
until you had come back, offering him something that meant a lot to you. you explained that, in your culture, giving up a piece of oneself was a way to show true remorse.
you started attending missions. prompting blade to begin following you around. stalking behind close to you when he can. absentmindedly placing a hand on the small of your back, gripping your shoulder whenever you were nervous.
until you became confident in your abilities, eventually deciding to undertake missions alone, leaving blade to his thoughts. you promised to keep him updated through text, insisting it wasn't a big deal to be on your own.
until you stopped texting. updates ceased, and no one had heard from you for days. worry gnawed at blade, despite his reluctance to admit it. without hesitation, he set out in search of you, driven by an unfamiliar concern.
blade's footsteps echoed across the terrain, heading in one straight direction. kafka had told him he would know. know where you were and how to find you. it was a sixth sense that ignited upon your disappearance that he hadn't even known about.
his footsteps came to a halt as he heard shallow breathing, a wheeze disrupting the loud silence.
he found you slumped against a wall, your body completely drained of energy. relief flooded through him when he saw you were not visibly injured. blade knelt beside you, gently lifting your chin to check for any wounds he might have missed. your eyes flutter open, meeting his crimson ones.
— blade... — you whispered, a small smile appearing on your face.
— i'm here — he replied softly, his thumb gently rubbing over your cheek.
you shift, a small groan escaping past your lips as your shirt rides up your stomach. revealing your right hip, bare to blade's gaze.
his breath gets caught in his throat when he sees something—a soulmate mark, identical to his own, on your right hip. the delicate constellation-like pattern was unmistakable.
it tugged at his chest, a sudden sting that caused his throat to dry up. he reaches out to your hip, tracing the pattern he had known for years. etched into his mind. but all of a sudden, different now that it appeared on you.
maybe it was a sign. that paths do intertwine, that the same destined partner he used to wish for was real. right in front of him.
maybe the mark was a blessing after all.
MAY I REQUEST FOR ANGST POOKS 😘😝 MYBE ABT BRINGING UP THEIR DEAD EX BY ACCIDENT DURING AN ARGUEMENT? THERES RARELY ANY ANGST IM GETTING MAD 👹
I saw your ask at 11 pm and something about the way you wrote your request made me giggle so hard idk why 🤣 Since you demand angst I shall give it to you. You’re my first ask btw so thank you very much!
I’m not sure which character you wanted me to write for so I’m going to go for Blade and Aventurine. Though feel free to send me specific characters through the ask again!
Warnings: no fluff at all, pure angst, fem! reader and ex, reader has no chill running her mouth, Aventurine’s kinda feels ooc sorry about that
WC: 1881
Blade
You were a hair’s breadth away from being gravely injured. If it weren’t for Blade’s interruption you would have been Antimatter Legion dinner tonight. In your eyes you weren’t in that much danger, you knew you could handle it on your own but in Blade’s eyes, it was just another flashback to how he lost her. It felt frustrating to watch him downplay your capabilities, it's not like you were some weak damsel in distress. There was a reason your relations with the Stellaron Hunters had lasted as far as it had; you were good at wielding your weapon and making good use of the enemy’s weaknesses. Sure there were moments when you were in trouble but you never really got to live the thrill of it because Blade would always step in to help you even when you didn’t ask for it.
You loved him dearly and appreciated his assistance but just for this instance, you wanted to deal with things by yourself. Ultimately your agitation got the best of you and so now here you were with your arms crossed, glaring at Blade after the enemy was taken care of.
“Have you always been this foolish?”
You stare at him with wide eyes and an open mouth, questioning his audacity of insulting you like this.
“Excuse me?”
“You could have gotten hurt.”
He says matter-of-factly and you feel your jaws clench at the way he speaks to you.
“Blade I am fully capable of looking after myself! I need you to stop interrupting my fights!”
“If I didn’t that Antimatter Legion pawn would have sliced your head off your shoulders.”
“And how the hell do you know that was going to happen?! I could have fought it easily if it weren’t for you!”
He turns around and looks at you with cold eyes which make you flinch momentarily.
“You overestimate yourself.”
“I do not! I have worked relentlessly on my skills! I know what I can handle or what I can’t! You just never allow me to prove it!”
“You are a fool. I do not need to see you pushed to your limits to acknowledge your skills.”
“Then why the hell won’t you let me do what I want?!”
You both argue back and forth with neither of you backing down. Blade speaks calmly, just as he always has but with slight frustration whereas you on the other hand are full-on yelling and boiling over to the point of rage. He takes a deep breath and continues.
“I am just looking out for you-”
“I am not weak like Chun. Stop treating me like I am.”
You almost immediately regret it the moment those words leave your mouth. Your words are sharp and bitter, and pierce his heart like a blade slashing through flesh. His eyes are ablaze with fury and pain and the way his jaw clenches is enough to let you know you have overstepped your boundary.
Chun was his first love. She was a good woman with a kind heart, and despite how odd she looked amongst the Stellaron Hunters, they welcomed her as long as it made Blade happy. But in a world full of evil, being kind is a weakness and ultimately she met her end in the hands of an enemy during heated negotiations. For the one whose life was already cursed by immortality, he took her death hard and swore never to love again, for he couldn’t bear to witness yet another loved one depart for the nth time in his long life. His already broken heart took ages to heal and by the time you crossed paths with him, he was still grieving over her. You knew this very well because it was you who assured him that history wouldn’t repeat itself with you. It was you who helped him heal further and gave him the confidence to open his heart up once more to you. You knew what she meant to him because he had been honest with you about his past yet-
“Blade I-”
-here you were driving the very knife you had taken out of him so lovingly back into his heart in full force. He looks at you with so much despise and agony that your heart hurts knowing you are the cause for it. A blade being stabbed over and over into his body hurt, but those wounds always healed after a while. Yet the wound your words had caused was one that no medication could fix. Your throat tightens and you want to reach out to him and hold him but you stay glued to your feet.
“We don’t need to be around each other anymore.”
Despite the torment he feels, he looks straight into your eyes and monotonously speaks. There is not even a single moment spared for you to reply as he walks out of the room and slams the door shut, indicating he is done with you. The door closing was not just the end of the argument you both were having, it was also the end of what you were to each other. You stand there rooted to the ground as tears sting your eyes. Why did you have to be like this?
Aventurine
“Aventurine I swear to god I am not playing your petty games again.”
You angrily huff as you cross your arms and glare at Aventurine with disapproval. The audacity of this man was truly something, especially at a time like this. You both were stuck in an interesting situation, where Aventurine had made a gamble with an enemy territory and he wanted you to be part of it. More precisely, he wanted to turn you into his bargaining chip for a while. There was one tiny problem. He wasn’t asking for your approval, he had already made the deal.
“The table has already been set, friend. You just have to play your role real well.”
Your jaw hangs low when you realise what he has done.
“Aventurine don’t tell me….”
“They have decided to ask for you in exchange of information. Do not worry, I will find a way to-“
He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as a loud slap resonates across the room. You stare at him in disbelief with tears welling your eyes, unable to process what he has done. A shaky sigh leaves his mouth and he stares at you, bewildered by your behaviour.
“It hasn’t even been a full week since we finished another deal and you want me to jump head-on into another one?!”
“Was there a need to slap me like this? If you’re forgetting, friend, you agreed to help me out on these deals regardless of the risk. Or should I have the doctor examine your memory?”
“Aventurine I agreed to help you out, not be used however you please! You could have at least asked me first before making the deal!”
You rub your temples and rethink the entire situation through. Your relationship with Aventurine was compatible due to one simple fact: you both loved taking risks. The thrill of the gamble and the adrenaline of waiting for the results kept you both alive. It was the drug you both needed in this cruel unjust world.
But this, this was different. This wasn’t just any gamble and it wasn’t a small one either. Being traded off to the enemy territory for a few weeks was no easy task and you have no idea what the hell Aventurine was thinking. In your last deal, you barely made it out alive as the tables turned against your favour. It was a miracle your assets weren’t taken and that you weren’t killed in the process.
“…I promise you will be fine, friend.”
Tears sting your eyes and you try to take a deep breath.
“How can you be so sure?”
“The gaiaithra triclops blesses me abundantly. We will not lose.”
“Is that what you said to Lilac as well before her demise?”
You hear how his breath hitches in his throat at the mention of Lilac. He coughs a little and then stares at you with a look you cannot decipher.
“Do not bring her up.”
His voice is a mere whisper and you know you’re crossing some lines already. Yet you don’t stop there. You jab your right index finger into his chest with every word you speak.
“I don’t know what’s worse, being a gambling chip on purpose or being a gambling chip unknowingly, like she was.”
He grips the hand you have on his chest tightly. You can’t help but wince a little at how he’s looking at you with red eyes filled with regret and anger. He tries to speak but you cut him off.
“Was losing her not enough to learn your lesson? Or do you turn everyone you love into pawns of your game?”
“You’re crossing the line now.”
He warns and you shake your head.
“You treat everyone like an asset, even the ones who truly love you without any hidden agenda. No wonder you couldn’t save Lilac-“
“Enough!”
Before you can process what is going on Aventurine pulls out a gun from his inner coat pocket and shoots a random vase on the table behind you. The bang of the gun and the loud shattering of the ceramic into pieces makes you jump and shake a little. He then shifts his gaze on you and lets your hand go before issuing his warning.
“…you need to leave. Leave before I accidentally hurt you.”
“I-“
“I said leave!”
He points the gun at you. His hand is shaking in a manner you have never seen before and you can tell he doesn’t want to do this but you’re giving him no choice. You stare at him for a moment and nod your head before scurrying away.
Once you’re out of his sight he plops onto the nearest sofa and drops his gun. It lands with a loud thud as he puts his head into his hands and shakes visibly. Flashbacks of that dreaded day start to play over and over in his head and he clenches his teeth as a tear rolls down his eye.
Lilac was a woman he met during one of his travels as an IPC stoneheart. They got along pretty well and eventually fell in love. A few years ago, Aventurine asked her for help during a deal he made and she agreed only for the other party to target her as leverage against Aventurine. He still remembers the pain in her eyes as she looked at him, confused and hurt from how she became the target. He remembers holding her in his arms apologising over and over for his lack of foresight, unable to figure out where he went wrong.
summary. there was before you, and there was during you. for some reason, i never thought there would be an after you.
pairing. blade x fem! reader
cc. lowercase intended , angst - no comfort , mention of blood , implied immortal reader , 1.8k words
truly a bittersweet feeling — the way you stared at the picture frame sitting on top of your bedside table displaying a photo of two people alongside each other. you with the man you swore to love for all eternity, yingxing.
you never thought it would be this hard to let go of someone, specifically a person who you had already dedicated yourself to. constellation like souls, tied and destined together by fate. that's what it felt like loving him. for each time your eyes locks with his vermillion colored ones, those short moments felt like you were bound to devote your undying love to him forevermore.
he made it easy to stay alive, to live. for his presence simply gracing yours eased the deepest pains you've long hidden behind a carefree and bubbly personality. he accepted every little piece of you, without a care of what might come for him. he reciprocated the love you unconditionally gave him like it was easy. because for yingxing, it was beyond easy.
"don't you find it weird? that you take care of us but forget to care for yourself afterwards?" a male voice speaks in a whisper-like tone as you tend to the wound planted on his arm using bandages good for the bleeding you didn't cause. "jing yuan, stop worrying so much about me. if im still breathing just fine, then you can't say that i don't take care of myself."
you giggle, finishing his wrapped up right arm before patting it gently, standing up to leave and return the unused roll to a cabinet where they belong. "i'd like you to meet a friend of ours." his statement made you stop in your tracks, looking back behind at the vulnerable man sitting at the bed of your clinic with a smile on his face.
"who?" eyes locked on him, placing the roll on your desk as you patiently awaited for a reply from him. you seriously doubted he had more friends other than the members of the high cloud quintet who viewed you as a trusted someone who they could always run to when they're in need of assistance with injuries they earned from their battles. though, there was someone they've mentioned once who was also a member that you haven't met just yet.
jing yuan tilts his head to the side, looking straight into your eyes. "yingxing, i assume that you've heard of him atleast once or twice whenever you would engage in my conversations with my friends." which was true. you've certainly heard of that name but never really dared to ask about who he might be, for you thought none of it was your business to bring up so casually.
you remembered the day you first laid eyes on him like it happened yesterday. the memories you created with yingxing were the most vivid memories throughout the entirety of your life. fragments of memories you would forever cherish until the minute of your last breath.
he played such a special role in your life. as if you weren't able to carry the burdens crushing you without his support. it truly was a surprise that you managed to last so long unaccompanied by the man that took most of your pain just by simply being there beside you. his absence made it hard for you to breathe.
"xing, look at this!" your hand carried a white tassel that faded downward into a shade of red.
"for me?" he asks in an instant, gazing at the accessory that you've confirmed was for him with a nod. you hang the tassel on the left of his chest, watching as it swayed as he moved. yingxing smiled, at you. blood rushed up to your cheeks upon the rare sight of his gratitude towards your gift that he'd most definitely treasure endlessly.
it wasn't long before he pulled you by the waist while you watched the sun melt from a distance, feeling you warm body against his. yingxing's thumb rubbed circles against your side, making you chuckle.
oh, how you cherished every minute spent with the man you loved. simple moments of intimacy that never failed to make your heart race. silence drowned the lovers ahead, with one silently wishing to the aeons to make their relationship last, and the other hoping that he'll never have to spend another minute without you by his side.
the two were too busy being lost in each other's minds that they failed to notice baiheng capturing the moment with a camera that belonged to you, and jing yuan on the side gazing at the lovers like a proud wingman. guess you'd have to thank her for that later.
it hurt, it never really stopped hurting. yingxing healed you unknowingly, he cured the pain you endured silently by expressing his love for you. and now that he's no longer here with you, the pain became unbearable.
nevertheless, meeting new friends after almost a decade of being alone made everything a teeny tiny bit better. even though one of them was the mere reincarnation of an old friend of yours, yingxing's associate, dan feng.
meeting his reincarnation sure was confusing. he looked the same, but yet so different in so many ways. he goes by dan heng now. for some reason, the two of you got along very well, just like old times.
obviously, as part of the nameless, you were well aware of a specific organization known as the stellaron hunters to which yingxing, or should i say blade, is a member of.
he was an enemy to the astras express crew, to them, atleast. how could you ever hate someone you never stopped loving despite separation for so many years? that's right.
you thought the time where you would have to stand against your beloved would never come, so why were you panting infront of him under the pouring rain? gripping on your sword for dear life as blood streamed down your arm from the wounds he created.
he has changed, this moment was beyond your expectations but being surprised was nowhere to be found. he was your enemy, after all.
blade stood a few feet away from you, his bangs wet from the rain blocking his vision.
yingxing loved and accepted you, but blade discarded you.
for each time you caught his gaze on yours, it broke you to pieces seeing how there's practically no light to be found behind those eyes, just pure hatred. or so you thought.
blade was cursed to be damaged for eternity, cutting the hands of those who dared put his pieces back together, including the hands of the one he loved so dearly.
you wanted him to tell you everything, without leaving any details behind. you longed to feel him in your arms once again, feel that warmth of his that never failed to absolutely melt you. "x-xing.." your lungs were failing you.
"do not address me by that name." he spat, glancing over your fragile state, you were in the verge of breaking, and he did nothing about it. hearing his harsh tone felt like a million pieces of broken glass thrown against your way. you wished for him to hold you, tell you that everything's going to be alright and that he's right there, with you.
but your dreams were nothing but stupid desires.
"finish me off already." heavy breathing followed, using your sword to avoid falling to the ground and looking pathetic, like you weren't already. if you were anyone else, blade would've never hesitated and would grant your wish the moment you utter the words out. but you were more than that.
he launches at you, forcing you to engage in the duel, surrendering was not an option. "who taught you to be so weak? fight back." you immediately shielded yourself, his sword pressing against yours. his strength was unmatched.
blade pressured you to not give up, as if he wasn't already killing you slowly.
the fight between two people who were once peaceful, torn apart by fate. maybe, just maybe, in another life, they'd be able to freely love each other. there's no doubt that it would take long, after all, the worser fate than death is not being able to die.
your swords clashed, using your full strength to push him away from you. "stop.. pleas- fuck!" your arm ached, the same way your heart did.
i feel you forget me like i used to feel to breathe.
"waakee uuup~" you dragged the vowels on your tongue, kissing the white haired man sleeping soundly on your bed awake. feeling his hot breath against your face.
the sun shined brightly against his face, the face you would never get tired staring at. you could basically occupy yourself almost for an entire day just by admiring his pretty features.
"you're just wasting your time, don't you dare pity me any longer!" you screamed, furrowing your brows as you tossed your weapon aside, refusing to take part in this battle you know damn well you'd never win. the pain in your voice was easily noticed by the man before you, the grip he had on his weapon loosening. "pathetic. you know better than to prioritize your personal feelings over the battle ahead of you."
the rainstorm soon came to an end, just when you fucking needed it to conceal your tears you were so ashamed of showing. "you can't blame me, now can you? i'd rather you tear me to pieces than to live with the knowledge of you being my enemy."
"this is what we were destined to be, not even i could do anything to stop it for your radiance no longer leads my way." you wanted to scream the pain piercing your heart. your souls were bound to be against each other, and you gave yourself no right to accept such things.
blade walks away, refusing to see you suffer any longer than he could take. "i'd sacrifice anything just to feel your love again.." you whispered, loud enough for him to hear as clear as day.
"let go." was all he replied back, leaving you dumbfounded, your gaze stuck on his back as he disappeared into thin air.
you were willing to leave everything behind, give it all up just for him. but even that, he would never let you do such for his sake. for the love was there, but he simply refuses to be show vulnerability towards someone ever again, even to you.
your consciousness faded away, your body meeting the cold, wet ground. escaping reality to foolishly give the imaginary fragments of your mind indulge you for a while. considering that once you wake up, you'd have to face it all over again, as if it wouldn't kill you to live up to the fact that the probability of your relationship with him to be repaired was low, extremely.
"loving you was the most exquisite form of self destruction."
from xumi ; part 2 or nah? 🤕 reblogs r appreciated !!
Your thighs tremble, hands shakily grabbing onto his biceps as shuddered gasps and moans spill from your lips like sweet honey. Your eyes are glassy with tears, staring up at him with want for more.
His voice rumbles in the back of his throat, humming at your expression as a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips and his hands gripping your hips keep you grinding against his thigh. Your sticky essence leaving a damp patch against his pants as your pussy drools from the stimulation your puffy clit was receiving. You were on a whole different plain, eyes rolling back and head lolling forward to rest against his shoulder as you desperately cling to him, whimpering for more, Ajax, more!
“What a needy girl you are.” He chuckles, amused at how you let a shrill whine out when he starts to bounce his thigh under you, adding more pressure with thumps against your pearl that make you lurch forward into his chest.
He leans down, smirking as he blows warm air over your ear making you twitch in his tight hold. “Pretty girl, doing so good for me.. making such a mess.” He practically groans out in a low whisper, causing goosebumps to rise across your exposed skin with a delicious shiver up your spine. His lips brush against your neck, eyes focused on how your jaw tightens up and your head cranes to the side to give him more access. How cute.
He bites the skin of your throat, suckling and lapping his tongue over the mark as you hiss a breath in reaction. Your fingers dig ever so slightly more into his biceps, leaving faint crescents in their wake as you cling to him. He kisses over the bite mark, grinning against your soft skin before he pulls back and looks down into your doe eyes.
“Think you can let go for me, hm?” He moves your hips faster against his thigh, causing bolts of pleasure to seep into your gut and your voice to fall short to mere whimpers and moans of his name. “C’mon, give it to me like the good girl you are, baby.”
! — slight degradation, slight praise, edging, semi-public sex
“Oh, c’mon now, surely you can do better than that.” He teases in a whisper, toying with you and working you up only to stop you right as you reach the edge. He’d been doing this for a while now, you can only assume it’s because you were trying to get his attention in various ways earlier when he was busy working with papers that were piling on his desks and needed to focus. Though now that he’s got you in his lap, grinding yourself on his thigh with the possibility of being caught looming in the air above you. This would be deemed proper punishment for distracting him all day.
“Diluc, please,” You whimper, brows knit together tightly in frustration and a pout in your lips as your hands grab at the material of his shirt. His hands that had momentarily halted your movements finally relax and simply opt to hold onto your plush skin rather than stop you. This was a repeated process, one that was getting to you and causing you to become more and more desperate the longer he kept this up for.
“Do you think you deserve it?” He asks, tilting his head while his eyes stayed glued to the sight of your pussy gliding against his thigh in a slow and drawn out motion. You sigh softly, biting your bottom lip at the slowly building pleasure once more and your brows furrow in sexual frustration.
His warm hands squeeze your hips and lock you in place causing you to nearly cry as you look up at him pleadingly. “Answer me.” He says in a warning tone and you’re desperately forming jumbled up words in your foggy mind to answer him with.
“Y-Yes!— Please let me cum, please..” Oh you always knew the right ways and tone to beg in. It made his cock throb painfully in his slacks as his jaw tightened and he willed his hands to let you do the work and not take over to help you. No, you didn’t deserve his help no matter how much he truly wanted to give it to you.
He leans back in his chair, swallowing thickly as he stares at that needy look in your eye that makes him want to give in but he relents. “Then work for it, prove you deserve it, slut.”
Sometimes you wished he wasn’t this cruel to you and your needs, but you suppose that’s of his nature to not give in to you until he deemed you worthy enough.
“Blade, haah, please I-I need—” Your words fall short on the tip of your tongue as you whine in growing frustration. Your hands grabbed at his hips, fingers tugging into the belt loops to pull yourself forward on his thigh before rolling your hips back and forth in a repeated motion that was bringing you a euphoric sensation but it just wasn’t enough.
He’s leaned back, arms up and hanging on the back of the sofa as he watched the show being preformed before him on his lap. His garter belt nudges against your inner thighs and makes an excited spark run up your spine. He smirks at you, heavy lidded eyes trained on the sight of your glistening cunt on display and drooling all for him.
“Need what?” He says, faux comfort in his voice as he looks up at your desperate expression and his bulge twitches against his pants. He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing from the action but it’s impossible to read him to know that he’s close to snapping and bending you over the armrest of the sofa. “You’re the one that wanted to do this, no? Don’t tell me you’re forgetting already, dumb girl.”
He isn’t half wrong but still, you expected a little encouragement or help at the very least. To have to do all the work like this by yourself, putting on a show for his eyes to drink up greedily, you couldn’t help but want a little something more from him.
You huff out a whine, brows knit together as you focus on the patterns etched into his suit before strong hands grip onto your soft hips and a sigh rumbles in his chest making your pussy flutter around nothing. He tilts his head again, fingers squishing into your flesh as he stares into your glassy eyes.
“Can’t do anything without my help,” He tsks, brows furrowed as he watches you hold your breath in anticipation. “How pathetic. Let’s see what you get reduced to when I take over, filthy mutt.”
! — praise, sir kink, reader is spoiled sighhh </3
Jing Yuan had a tendency to spoil you in every way imaginable. If you weren’t adorned by the most expensive jewels or the rarest silks one would have to search the entire universe for that your heart desired, then you were being spoiled in more intimate ways by his hands, mouth or even his thick cock splitting you open and filling you up leaving you full and content. You were spoiled, Jing Yuan’s perfect princess that he loved to dote on in any and every way.
So, why did he sudden decide to take that from you? His hands are focused on flipping through papers on his desk as the large room is empty of anyone’s presence, save for the two of you accompanying it. His mouth is busy mumbling the words he reads off each paper, and you certainly aren’t cockwarming him at the very least to feel that addicting fullness he loves to let you have whenever you want. Today was different, unfortunately.
He didn’t stop you from grinding yourself against his thigh, seated prettily in his lap and rolling your hips in a languid motion. Your breathy, quiet moans by his ear make tingles crawl over the expanse of his back and up his neck, but he’s keen on focusing on getting work done before tending to you. He was the General after all, his duty was important and you knew this. Surely you weren’t so greedy as to steal his focus and attention away from his work right?
“Yuan,” Your shaky voice is smooth, needy with a whiny lilt to it that makes his fingers grip the thin pages a little tighter in his hand. His eyes stay on the papers but he isn’t reading them anymore, they’ve merely became a temporary distraction so he doesn’t focus on the dampness soaking into the material of his pants as you hump his thigh. “Sir, please,”
He feels his resolve dissolve into nothingness when the title drips from your lips like the finest honey to exist. A groan rumbles in the back of his throat and he throws his head back, closing his eyes and sighing deeply as he places the papers he’d have to properly read at a later time, down on the desk. His hands snake down to your waist, warm and big as they grab at you before sliding down to your hips and following your slow rhythm with no sign of taking over.
“You’re such a distraction aren’t you?” He opens his eyes and peers down at you, bright eyes locking with yours finally and you know you have him wrapped tight around your finger much like he has you wrapped around his. He hums, eyes trailing down your body, drinking in the sight of you until his focus lands on the damp patch against his pants. “An awfully needy distraction.. taking my attention from my duties as General.” He tuts his tongue at you before looking back at your glassy hues that give him such a lovesick puppy look it makes his stomach twist in knots.
“You know I can’t deny you,” He sighs, gripping your hips a little tighter and you bite back a smile as you watch his eyes grow lidded. “Spoiled little brat, you’re a minx in disguise aren’t you?” His tease causes a giggle to bubble in the back of your throat before his hands are taking over the rhythm and pace of your hips movement and you’re lurching forward to whimper into his shoulder.
“That’s it, just let me do all the work, princess.” He drawls out, voice husky by your ear as you melt like putty in his large hands. Oh how he adored you and your sweet noises that greeted his ears like the most angelic melodies he’s ever had the opportunity to hear. “You like it best this way after all, no?”
. . cw: slight mention of blood, descriptions of making out
. . an: first hsr story for my first limited five star ☆☆☆☆☆ couldn't think of a better title smh
you never understood blade. even when kafka tasked you to take care of him after missions. cleaning him, making sure to treat his wounds, all that stuff.
he was quiet at first. no words exchanged between you two, just comfortable silence whenever you would clean him in the bathtub. a variety of shampoo and conditioners perfectly arranged by the side of the tub.
kafka only trusted you because you were able to relax blade after his most difficult missions. which was weird because according to silverwolf, kafka was always the one taking care of blade after missions. of she were gone, then it'd fall on silverwolf or sam to take care of him.
"i also found it a bit strange when kafka suddenly trusted you to take care of blade." silverwolf said as her fingers rapidly fly across the keyboard. "why?" you ask, watching her in curiosity. "well, kafka was always the one to take care of him. so entrusting someone with that task was surprising." she glances at you for a moment, then returns her attention back to the hologram in front of her.
"but dont overthink it too much. it's probably something to do with Elio's plan." she assures you.
you always think back to that conversation with silverwolf, pondering over the details and the possible reasons for kafka trusting you with blade. even now as you scrub the said swordsman's hair of any remaining blood, you find your mind wandering over to that same conversation.
blade opens his eyes, seeing you zoned out and mindlessly scrubbing his air was amusing at best. although he liked the feeling of your hands in his hair, the water was getting cold, and you hadn't even started to clean his body.
blade lifts a hand up to your face, cradling it softly as he watches you come back to reality, blush creeping up your neck. you pull back, looking away as you try to hide your face.
"the water is getting cold." he says, retracting his hand after a few moments. you only nod, moving to wash his hair. reaching for the bar of soap, you prepare to scrub his body clean of all the dried up blood. but before you could start, a hologram appears in front of you, with silverwolf right in the center.
"kafka's calling you to her office." she says before disappearing as quickly as she appeared. the room was silent for a while as you wonder why kafka needs you at this time - she always knows when you're cleaning blade.
"go. i can clean myself." blade's voice breaks the silence in the room. "uhm... ok." you mutter, standing up and giving blade the soap before exiting the bathroom.
you walk through the halls of headquarters, the silence almost defeaning. recalling the conversation you had with kafka a week ago, you wonder why she suddenly gave you a 'well deserved vacation'. you sigh, deciding to go to silverwolf for help. even if the girl seemed like she was always on the computer, she always listened to your ramblings. you're thankful for that.
rounding the corner, you remember that blade returns from his most recent mission today. you guess that kafka has already taken care of him...
you curse as you bump into someone. "ah, sorry about that..." lifting your head, you lock eyes with crimson red ones. there was an unreadable expression on his face - one you've seen many times after a particularly rough mission.
he stares at you, gaze burning through your soul. you shuffle awkwardly on your feet, struggling to find the words to break the tension.
suddenly, you're pinned against the wall, blade's arms on either side of you. you cower, lowering your head. a hand gently lifts your head by the chin, crimson eyes meeting yours. your breath hitches, his other hand wrapping around your waist to pull you closer to him.
"why weren't you there to greet me?" he asks in a whisper, quiet enough that only the two of you can hear. he narrows his eyes, tightening his arm on your waist. "why was kafka the one to clean me?" he asks in a harsher tone, voice dripping with annoyance.
you avert your gaze, stumbling over your explanation. "kafka told me to take a month off. she said i didn't need to greet you after missions so i didn't." you gently try to get out of his hold. it feels like your heart is about to burst, and you were sure you looked redded than a tomato.
blade tuts, tightening his hold. he's silent, which was unnerving. finally, after what felt like an eternity, he lets you go. you step back, trying to calm your heart. he stares at you for a moment before turning around and walking away. you watch him disappear into the next corridor, slumping against the wall, wondering what in the loving name of aeons just happened.
even now, you still dont understand him.
for the remainder of your 'vacation', you could sense blade following you everywhere you go. you even had to take extreme measures (asking silverwolf for help) just to avoid him.
silverwolf looks up from her computer, bubblegum popping as she takes in your slumped form. "you can't hide in here forever." she says, crossing her arms. hiding in silverwolf's room was the best course of action for you because blade wasn't allowed here.
you groan, dropping your head on her desk. "he's been following me for two weeks! two weeks, silverwolf!" you complain, "i can't even go to my room without him knocking on the door every thirty minutes!" silverwolf only laughs at your predicament. you've been going to her every time you're troubled by something (most of the time, it involved a certain mara-struck swordsman), and she was amused every time.
silverwolf smirks, clearly knowing something you dont. "just talk to him. it'll be resolved in no time." she suggests, going back to whatever she was doing. you stay quiet, pondering over your options before a knock on the door is heard. "speak of the devil." silverwolf stands up, motioning for you to hide, which you immediately do.
"what do you want?" she asks, annoyed. "you already know what i want." blade's voice reaches your ears, making the butterflies in your stomach act up again. "she doesn't want to talk." the silver-haired girl refutes, narrowing her eyes. the room is silent for a moment, before the sound of a sword being unsheathed resonates in the room.
"pull that damn sword out and i will call kafka on you." silverwolf threatens, only to be answered by blade with the same intensity. "bring her out and i wont tell sam you've been stealing his spare parts."
"you wouldn't dare!" she says in an exasperated voice. you already know where this is going. you internally cry, ready to beat up silverwolf. the next thing you know you're being dragged out from your hiding spot and being thrown over blade's shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
silverwolf stares at you on the way the way out, her expression reading im not sorry. you give her the finger before the door shuts in your face. the both of you are silent for a while. the only sounds being blade's steps echoing through the empty corridor.
"blade, put me down." you firmly say, squirming in his grasp. he only shakes his head. "put me down!" you say a bit more louder, now actively trying to get out of his hold. blade only tightens his grip on your waist. you sigh, knowing there's no point in fighting him.
"i will never understand you."
you're proven wrong when one night and a lengthy confession later, you're laying on blade's bed, his arms wrapped around you. the memory of last night is still fresh in your mind.
his lips meeting yours in a feverish kiss. his soft hair intertwined with your fingers, his smell intoxicating - you guess all the products you used on him finally paid off. the way his hands settled on your waist, the kiss becoming hotter and deeper by the second. your heart beats faster with all the feelings you've never understood before, choosing to push them to the back of your mind. now they resurface as blade whispers sweet i love you's against your too hot skin. his hands roaming your body as emotions start to unravel from the deepest parts of your heart -
blade's cold skin snaps you back to reality. he nudges your shirt up, settling his hand on your bare waist. his gaze on you never falters - piercing through your soul as if reading your innermost thoughts. he pulls you closer to him, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his warm breath tickling you a bit. you smile, combing through his soft black hair, untangling the knots from it. you let him rest, the tranquility of the room lulling you to sleep.
maybe you did understand blade. just a bit.
an: this is so messy jsjsjsjsjsjjj i cant think of a proper name for this so yall have to put up with the current one :p
there's so many plot holes in this istg. maybe i'll make a part 2 who knows 🤷♀️
this is the start of a 7 day writing challenge which i will hopefully finish (please i just want my motivation to write back)
Warnings: Typical Blade morbidity, Blade's slightly yan because I can never write him as Normal, and not SFW implications.
Word count: 1k.
Author notes are at the end of the story!
Washcloth in hand, you wipe away the perspiration clinging to your skin.
While doing so, you squint, an act your reflection obediently mimics, confirming that yes; this disheveled figure is indeed you. You smooth out your hair, moisturize your face, then apply a light layer of toner. The process is completed in a timely fashion. A few hand motions made midair dim the bathroom’s lights.
Yawning, the door slides open at your behest, retreating into the wall like a turtle does its shell. The room is dome-shaped and customized to your liking. A light birch wood floor, pale pink walls, and windows showcasing scenery of a tulip field stretching on for miles. Windmills dot the distance, turning at their leisure. Gentle orange hues from two rising suns envelop the room in a cozy glow.
If you hadn’t known any better, you’d believe you were actually on the planet Ethos, not traversing the cold, unforgiving space between galaxies.
While playing with the settings to change the time being depicted to twilight, it finally dawns on you that you’re not alone.
Blazing eyes freeze you in place and your breath catches in your throat.
“Blade,” you greet, wincing at how gracelessly the word rolls from your tongue, “I didn’t expect…”
You cut yourself off, figuring that finishing the sentence will strengthen the bizarre atmosphere. What can be said, anyway? ‘Thanks for that,’ or ‘couldn’t have done it without you,’ maybe? Both options seem equally terrible. To make matters worse, he doesn’t explain why he’s stuck around. He continues to stand beside your nightstand, arms crossed over his chest, his lips drawn in a straight line.
You’re the only one boasting signs of your previous tryst, the most obvious being your unsteady gait. Hoping to convey some decorum, you clasp your hands behind your back and straighten your posture. Surely, he’ll spill whatever’s on his mind and then make himself scarce. That’s been his modus operandi ever since this undefined relationship stumbled into existence. You tried not to take it personally. You’re both adults, if he doesn’t want to stick around for pillow talk, you won’t fault him for it.
His eyes sear through your being.
“You’re going to Illij.”
You blink, thrown off by the flat delivery and the intentions it conceals. He’s either painfully blunt or cryptic in his word choice. It’d be nice if he could find a middle ground between both extremes, but that’s wishful thinking.
With unusual impatience, he adds, “Alone.”
Ah.
A certain magenta-haired beauty’s previous words resurface in your mind.
“—Alone? Not taking Bladie along for the ride?” she had tutted. “You’ll hurt his feelings.”
You thought she was teasing, as she’s wont to do, yet your developing dilemma proves otherwise. That, or you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the truth in her words.
Whilst shifting your weight from one foot to another, you meekly reply, “Kafka gave me permission.”
He has the audacity to roll his eyes at you.
“Permission, huh?”
The condescension corrodes your former sheepishness.
Placing a hand on your hips, you reply, “That’s the word I used, yes.”
Your room pulsates with palpable tension. He stands to his full height — having been seated on your bed’s edge — sauntering over like a cat poised to pounce. You cross your arms over your chest as the distance shrinks. He’s yet to fully dress himself, wearing only his signature gray pants. His bare torso is marred with innumerable scars that vary in length and angle. Every time you both succumb to the heat of passion, his bandages occupy a new spot, depending on the circumstances of his latest battles. Presently, the cloth coils around his midsection and upper left arm.
He’s close enough now for you to notice the latter unraveling.
It isn’t anything logical that urges you forward. The sentiment resides deep in the recesses of your psyche, unsuccessfully shoved down by denial and trepidation. This formless substance takes shape as you meet him halfway. Blade towers over you. Given the massive gap in your abilities, you should fear him, but you know your pounding heart isn’t spurred by negative emotion.
Much to his perplexity, you set aside the nascent quarrel, focusing your attention elsewhere. Nimble fingers resecure the rebellious cloth.
“You’re terrible at taking care of yourself,” you mutter. “Honestly, what am I s’posed to do with you…?”
It’s subtle, but this shift in tone relaxes his muscles. That is, until you admit:
“I don’t like you being my bodyguard.”
Confusion contorts his countenance, then something more raw; something dangerously intimate.
“I don’t like seeing you get hurt because of me,” you continue, lowering both your voice and head. “It’s… it’s awful and— and then— you don’t even care!”
Hoping to avoid further humiliation, you stop there, taking deep breaths to prevent tears from flowing. This wasn’t the direction you wanted the evening to take. You wanted to take a bath, dip into a game Silver Wolf wouldn’t stop raving about, and then prepare for your imminent trip. The trip that’d put thousands of lightyears between you and a man whose blood spilled for your sake could rival an ocean.
“I’ll be fine on my own. I’ve got Silv’s disguise software and she knows how to track me. So — I don’t know — take it easy, or something. You’ve got the month off.”
His response is immediate. “I can’t.”
“Wh— did you not hear anything I just said?” you sputter.
“I heard,” he confirms. He raises his hand to the bandage you rewrapped, as if trying to savor your lingering warmth. “When you’re gone, I cannot ‘take it easy.’”
Blade uses your stupefaction to his advantage. He takes your much smaller hand into his and places it over his heart. It thumps at a slow, steady pace, like it hasn’t been obliterated and formed anew thousands of times. Your fingers twitch. His body, though colder than the average person’s, emits just enough warmth to indicate life. You feel the raised, textured skin that’s present above his every vital organ. It speaks of untold horrors; untold suffering.
His chest rumbles as he says, “If I’ve no choice but to live… you’d make for a worthwhile reason.”
You rest your forehead against his chest and squeeze your eyes shut.
Kafka… are you sure it isn’t my feelings that’re in the most danger?
A/N: owing to mental illness, aside from nexus, i devised another storyline for (slightly) less unhinged blade, this time with a stellaron hunter reader. while it has the material to make a series, i don't plan on starting up another multi-chaptered work until i make further progress into my current project 😭 still, i'm happy to talk about it if anyone's curious! here are some tidbits that give additional story context for this universe:
reader isn't super thrilled to be a stellaron hunter. a desperate situation ended in them joining the ranks. they're the emanator of the aeon of illumination, whose name i'm still undecided on. essentially, they're a 'consumer of stars,' capable of absorbing + storing well. you guessed it. stars. as you can imagine, this ability can provide immeasurable energy or devastation depending on its usage.
as a consequence, when reader's performing the sealing process, they're extremely vulnerable. it isn't exactly subtle, people tend to notice when their nearby sun is going cyaaaaaa ✌ and try to stop them. that's where bladie comes in. he kills anything and anyone that threatens them.
ethos is a pretty meadow planet that's known for harvesting clean energy (hydro, solar, wind) and using minimum technology. most of its inhabitants go their entire lives without ever seeing a computer. long distance communication is carried out through a dedicated fleet of carrier pigeons.
illij is a laissez-faire paradise. consumerism galore. ads projected in the night sky, ads projected in your dreams in certain low income areas where people can't afford space adblock™. it's a lot but sometimes reader appreciates the distraction.
heyaaa! sorry for the inactivity!! I was quite busy with college week so I wasn't able to post anything for a while ;-;;; Anyways,,, here's bladie for the time being ^.^
Warnings: SMUT. afab genitalia, gender neutral pronouns. PIV unprotected sex, Lilia takes a dominant role throughout the smut, hair pulling (reader giving), overstimulation (reader receiving), cunnilingus. not proofread it is what it is.
Summary: Out of the kindness of your heart —and naivety mixed in— you nurse back to health the injured fae you came across with in the forest.
Word count: 3.7k
A/N: if you find a mistake just ➖➖close your eyes like that and pretend you dont see it. my contribution for general lilia lovers (myself included💗)
₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ♡ 🌷 . . KOFI
At first, General Lilia was like a feral cat when you tried to get close to him.
Injured and almost unconscious; that was how you had found him. A gaping wound on his abdomen. Regardless of his blurry vision, he could still make out the smell of a human.
Thus, through deep breaths and pained winces, he demanded that you not come closer. Those demands were accompanied by curses and hisses, of course.
Perhaps you were naive or had no sense of self-preservation, or both, because despite his refusal to receive aid, you carried him on your back.
Had the fae been in better condition, you wouldn't have made one step forward without some inconvenience happening.
Lilia's first instinct, when he awoke the next day, was to attempt to flee before you realized he was up. Granted, the pain from recent battle wounds sliced through his being, rendering him to fall back on the bed.
His heartbeat picked up once he saw you walking into the room, kicking the door shut, and carrying breakfast in your hands.
The fae's words were nothing short of disdainful, accompanied by threats.
You were aware of the complex human-fae relationships and weren't surprised by his outburst. Instead, you ignored his empty words, left the breakfast on the little nightstand next to the bed, and left.
Although the general wasn't pleased at the fact you dismissed his words as if he were blabbering, he himself knew he wouldn't hurt a defenseless human like yourself. He's willing to turn a blind eye to those that aren't part of the Silver Owl's; after all, you weren't an immediate threat to him.
He sighed, turning to look at the source of the appealing aroma on the nightstand.
He wasn't that hungry, right? He could just wait a while longer, just to establish a sense of power over you—he didn't need you as much as you thought he did.
The grumbling from his stomach made his thoughts pause.
By lunch time, you decided it was a reasonable idea to check back on the fae you rescued yesterday.
The plate was clean, as you expected.
Without sharing another word, you gathered the plate and the utensils to head back to the kitchen, until the fae’s low voice and dry manner of speaking interrupted you.
“You know our kind have had conflicts of interest, right?” You couldn’t identify any sort of hostility or ill-intent from him when he spoke his mind. Rather, it felt as if it came from a place of genuine concern for your feelings.
“I...” You stopped to wonder if you actually considered that detail when you decided to bring this stranger into the safety of your home. “I wouldn’t be able to turn my back on someone who’s about to die,”
Lilia stared at you; you couldn’t discern how he took the comment.
“Hmph,” he said, crossing his arms. “You humans underestimate faes. I’ve survived worse wounds. This is nothing in comparison.”
“Yeah, yeah. You're, oh, so dangerous, and I'm, oh, so fragile. Please don’t kill me, Mr. Fae,” you feigned a squeakier voice. You reveled in amusement at his displeased expression. Suddenly, you realized you didn’t even know his name. “By the way, I don’t know what to call you.”
For a moment, Lilia considered not telling you. He would flee this place as soon as he could, so what was the point? He reasoned. Despite that, he figured that you would be more fearful of him if he revealed his name, as everyone knew the title that was accompanied by it.
“Or do you want me to keep calling you Mr. Fae?” You kept poking fun at him.
“I’m Lilia Vanrouge. Does the name ring any bells to you?”
You stopped for a moment to think.
“To be honest, no.”
Lilia wondered how you were still alive at this point, being so detached from the current events going on. You had just enough information to know about the war that was going on.
Unbelievable. He shook his head before looking down at the bandages wrapped around his low abdomen.
The dull pain that comes from wounds was still present, albeit less than yesterday. He made an effort to sit up on the bed and undid the bandages, wanting to check the wound. If he applied less strength than usual, the sting was bearable.
You stitched his lesion while he was unconscious. Even though your work was decent, he couldn’t help but wish there were fairies nearby who could speed up the healing process. He couldn’t stop thinking back on his troops, the princess, his kind—they needed him right now.
Lilia’s troubled pondering stopped when you came back.
“I was just about to ask how you were feeling. The stitches haven’t opened, right?” You dabbed the rag into the water, looking to use the piece of cloth to clean up any dirt or blood that might’ve been left over from the prior day.
“Halt, human,” he tried to scurry away, flustered. “I can do it myself. I managed to eat on my own. I don’t need your help. Wait outside,”
“Okay, but you still should clean the rest of your body. I thought I could help you walk to the bathroom so you can use the shower,” you said, placing a hand on your chin. “Will you be able to reach your back? Bend enough to clean your legs?”
Lilia narrowed his eyes, partly out of suspicion. “If I were you, I’d be more cautious of a stranger,” he sighed. “I’ll allow you to help me clean my back. The rest, I can manage. Try anything funny, and I’ll make sure you’ll regret it,”
“Anything funny? You mean killing you? Do you think I would go to these lengths just to murder you?”
“My point stands.”
You guided the fae towards your bathroom; you left him alone so he could undress and wash what he could without your help. Once he was done, he called to you, where he was waiting, sitting on the wooden bathroom’s stool with a towel wrapped around his hips.
He didn’t acknowledge you entering; he just sat there in silence, waiting for you to pour water on his scarred back. Some scars were new, some were old, and others were fading.
His ears flicked when he heard you sit behind him.
The session was…awkward, to say the least. You both were quiet, and you wondered what he was thinking about during his silence. You resisted the urge to trace the scars on his back. You surmised that it must be a sensitive topic for him. You knew about the hardships of war, but having a glimpse of the surface of them awakened a sense of pity for him.
You slid the rag along his back. Albeit having a thin frame, there was some tonification...
He shivered, interrupting both your train of thoughts and your languid movements.
“You done?” he asked, looking at you over his shoulder.
“Yes,” you answered curtly, ashamed of yourself for allowing your mind to wander that much.
From then on, having the general—unbeknownst to you—as a sort of roommate, if you could even call him that, was an experience. To you, he seemed to have some sort of internal conflict when speaking to you; sometimes, he would speak in a kinder way, and at other times, he would go back to his withdrawn and indifferent attitude.
Like he was afraid of getting too attached soon.
You would tease him, proclaiming that he had developed a soft spot for you. He would either roll his eyes, huff, or deny, until he stopped paying attention to your “pointless ramblings” (as he called them). You couldn’t help but find amusement at the idea of this fae getting tired of your teasing and preferring to ignore them.
Of course, the general would rather die than admit his days in relative leisure with you were quite endearing—he wouldn’t admit his true feelings to himself either—as having someone looking out for you was a change of pace for his days of solitude. Solitude comes in the form of having no one else but himself to rely on.
For a human such as yourself to be selfless enough to nurse him back to health, even if not necessary until a certain point, made you stand out over the rest of the past human interactions he’d experienced.
Avarice and thoughtlessness were, after all, the reasons why the fae clashed with humanity.
Alack, he couldn’t stay here with you for the rest of his life.
Basking in the last rays of sunlight, sitting on the fresh grass as you shared a meal, you didn’t expect Lilia to have a gloomy expression.
“You’re going back to your military camp?”
“The war isn’t over yet. I’ve wasted enough time waiting for my wounds to heal,” Absentmindedly, his hands hovered over where the gaping wound once was. “You’ve been…”
“Hm?” You directed your focus to him, expecting him to finish his sentence while you munched on a slice of bread.
“I’ll give it to you. You’ve been helpful, but also annoying. I wouldn’t have imagined someone to have the ability to both heal and damage someone at the same time,” he took a sip of the tea and turned his head away in agitation.
“Would it hurt too much to just say ‘thank you’?” You rolled your eyes.
“Thank you,” he agreed, so you would drop the topic.
The sun had long since set, the single light source coming from your home. Lilia gave one last glance at your profile, noticing you were deep in thought.
He opened his mouth to tell you he was going inside again. Then he closed it again, thinking maybe you didn’t want to be disturbed by whatever you were reflecting on.
For the past few weeks, stress over how his troops were doing has built up. The general couldn’t wait any longer to go back to them.
He departed that same night.
Lilia took a quick look at the bedroom he has been staying in, checking if there was anything he should take with him before departing.
Alongside his mask, he wielded his magical lithic with practiced ease.
He placed a hand on the window and pulled the lower panel up to open it. With a foot already on the windowsill, he hesitated.
I haven’t said goodbye to...
Almost as if driven by instinct, he went back to the living room, where he last saw you a couple of hours before.
At first, he didn’t see you. He rationalized that you were in your bedroom now; however, a soft snore made him realize that wasn’t the case.
Sprawled on the couch. Blanket on the floor. Your head is almost falling off the edge of said furniture.
That’s how he found you sleeping.
He deadpanned, reaching down towards the blanket on the floor and draping it over your sleeping form.
Did Lilia feel at fault that he didn’t get to say goodbye? Yes. Nevertheless, the fae was set on answering the call of his obligations before letting himself realize it.
Being a proper general like him, he located the camp with ease. Every single one of his comrades celebrated his return.
Now, this was an environment he was used to. It felt right; this was what he was familiar with.
And despite that, he couldn’t shake you off his thoughts. Not even the next day.
His mind kept reeling back on the idea of heading towards your small cottage to apologize.
Lilia groaned in frustration, turning around on the makeshift bed inside his tent. He stared at the walls, asking himself if it made sense for him to have these feelings.
Humans are weak. I should check on that human. Yeah, that’s it. That human is clumsy.
While putting on his armor and tying the knots in their places, he couldn’t believe himself—he was going back just to see you.
It was past midnight. Perhaps it wasn’t the best time to go see you, but he hoped you were up. He remembered that you tend to stay up past that hour.
He found himself smiling fondly at the memory before his smile dropped at the smell of smoke and fire in the distance.
With a racing heart, Lilia hurried to where he knew your home was.
Engulfed by fire.
The orange embers reflected on Lilia’s eyes as he gawked at the unbelievable sight. Soon, his attention was brought back to unknown faces inspecting around the perimeter. He identified the silver armor, and Lilia didn’t waste any more time acting.
“The general!” One of them shouted, the others unsheathed their swords, and they prepared to attack.
By the sound of it, Lilia supposed that this was an ambush, since it appeared that they were after him and set the house on fire to have a better chance of hunting him down.
“Where’s the human?!” Lilia demanded, pushing the lithic blade against the soldier he trapped.
“Calcinated, perhaps,” he spat.
As she was about to slice him open, something stopped Lilia.
With a hand on his arm, you managed to halt his movements. Had you come any later, the soldier would’ve had his neck chopped.
You didn’t give him a chance to question you; rather, you pulled him away from the burning place and into the forest.
To say the fae was speechless was a way to put it—he was baffled. Up until a certain moment, he managed to regain his composure and grab you by the shoulders.
“Why didn’t you let me end him?!” He shook you. “You allowed those pesky pests to get away with it!”
“Lilia—”
“What?!”
“You’re digging your nails. It hurts.”
His arms dropped back to his sides, as if you were scalding hot.
“Now what’re you going to do? Your home…”
“I have no other choice other than traveling back to town.”
“Alone? In the middle of a war? You’re lucky enough I was willing to spare you, but I can’t guarantee other faes will do the same,” Again, his hands were on you. “You’re coming with me,”
Your mind stalled.
“Huh?” You followed him when he began heading in a direction only he knew where it ended. “Are you accompanying me towards the town?”
“Do I look like someone who has that much time to spare?” He gripped your hand more. “I’ll take you to my camp,”
You stopped walking, pulling on his hand.
“You can’t be serious. Aren’t they going to kill me?”
“Dare anyone lay a hand on you, I’ll return the action tenfold.”
“How are you so sure they won’t dare hurt me?”
“Because I’m their general.”
“So, when were you planning on telling me that minuscule detail?” Your voice became increasingly louder as you spoke from shock. “That all this time, I’ve had the general in my home?!”
“You’re going to attract an enemy’s attention. Shut up,” he said, placing his hands on your mouth. “Let’s get going,”
You managed to escape unscathed from the fire but were exhausted from the stress of having to flee. You hugged yourself while you followed the general, fending off the chill of the night that was starting to seep into your being.
There was someone waiting by the camp’s entrance, and Lilia knew who that was.
“General, there you are!” The man’s green eyes fixed on you; sheer disdain reflected on them upon seeing you. “What’s that human doing here? They didn’t harm you, right?!”
“Quiet, Baur! This human is coming with me,” Lilia looked at you for a second. “This person is... who found me wounded back then,”
It seemed as if Lilia had mentioned you to this fae named Baur before your meeting.
“I trust you’ll keep this a secret. If the soldiers ask why this human is with us, tell them that they’re being held hostage to aid with manual labor,” Lilia had made up his mind. There was no way he would let you dive into danger.
“General… I trust your judgment above all, but—”
“My decision isn’t up for debate.”
Baur shifted his gaze back on you, unconvinced of the general’s judgment. Regardless, he recognized his position and didn’t object further.
You were drowsy. You didn’t notice you followed Lilia into his tent.
Lilia, too, occupied with his own musings, didn’t bat an eye at the arrangement.
"It would be a better idea if—" he turned around and saw you had already made yourself comfortable on his bed. You had shrugged your coat off in a messy manner, one sleeve still up your shoulder.
Acting out what felt natural, he kneeled on the makeshift mattress and finished pulling the sleeve off your body. Then he grabbed the blanket to place it over you, but you stopped him by putting your hand on his cheek.
"You look tired too," you noted with a whisper.
"Not more than you."
"My body's exhausted, but my mind's wide awake still," You moved your hand away from his cheek and reached behind him to slide the hair tie off. His ponytail became undone, locks of hair falling on either side of his face.
His hand snatched yours, albeit his face was flushed and his ears red. He held your gaze, bodies rising in temperature, until he couldn’t hold it anymore and leaned down to kiss you. It started as a vehement desire to demonstrate the feelings bottled up inside.
You weren’t faring any better, hugging him close to you despite how his fangs would bite down on your lip, almost drawing blood from his eagerness. Lilia rested his weight atop yours, pinning you down against the bed, hands wandering around your torso and squeezing what he could.
Breathless, Lilia pulled away, panting, his fangs peeking.
Intrigued by their shape, your thumb touched the pointy edge, feeling its puncture on the surface.
“Your fangs. They’re very sharp,” Your thumb moved away from the impressive canines, preferring to graze it across his reddened bottom lip.
“Keep touching me like that, and I’ll use them to leave marks on that pretty neck of yours.”
You swiped your finger over his lip again.
His hand went straight to your head and pulled to expose your neck; a soft mewl escaped you. In no time, restless hands undid each other’s clothes in a haze. Lilia reminded you to avoid waking up the slumbering soldiers with your constant moans.
Had his mouth not been occupied slurping and sucking your clit, he would’ve had to control his voice too; Lilia had told you to get on top of him, baring your pussy in the most vulnerable way possible by placing your knees on either side of his head. You started by trying to not suffocate him, fearing that it might be too much—Lilia couldn’t care any less about that since he pulled you closer by your hips.
Sloppy—the very image of starving and making a mess between your legs. He guided your hips to move in backward and forward motions, just making it harder for you to quiet down.
“Lilia,” you tried to warn him of your approaching orgasm.
One hand tightened on your hips when he sensed you trying to get off, while the other slid up the small of your back to push you forward, making it easier for him to reach your clit.
“I’m going to cum, Lilia. Please,” You weren’t even sure what you were asking for, but your hips trembled, and you didn't want that satisfaction to end.
You bit down on your hand to silence yourself when you reached your climax.
However, Lilia’s hunger wasn’t satiated. You felt as if he was about to pounce on you, which wasn’t far-fetched, because he proceeded to change positions and push you on your back.
You couldn’t hold back your whimpers as Lilia kept teasing your sensitive clit, trying to tell him you were still coming down from your orgasm, but your own mind betrayed you. Lilia’s grin was fiendish, adoring the way you were so responsive to him.
“That was all it took to get this pussy this drenched?” He fingered your hole, and beyond indecent sounds came from there. “Listen to that. You’re beyond soaked. Even the insides of your thighs are covered with your cum. Didn’t you enjoy that a little too much?” he teased.
“F-Fuck, shut up,” your cheeks burned from embarrassment.
He wasn’t better off himself either. Beads of precum both roll down his dick and drip on your thigh. With the same hand he masturbated you with, he used your slick to further lubricate his cock, even if it wasn’t necessary given how wet you were.
He aligned it with your entrance and pushed in, panting from how good you felt to him. The moment he was completely inside, he began thrusting with unparalleled pace. You bit your lip, along with teary eyes, making your best attempt at keeping your voice down. Lilia noticed you struggling and bent down to shut you up with his own lips. For that instance, the tempo staggered but was still thrusting hard.
Through your foggy mind, you wondered how such a slim body like his was able to muster this much force at such a rapid pace. How a fae with a pretty and charming face like his could be this debauched...
“Ah…” he moaned into your mouth, hunger overriding any sense of rationality. Lilia hid his face in your neck, licking and kissing.
Without you needing to tell him, the general busied his hand with your clit again, pushing you closer to an orgasm. At this point, he went back to that sloppy tempo, and your hands went to his disheveled hair, tugging those lovely locks of magenta-black hair. You quivered as you orgasmed, your grip tightening without you realizing it. A small grunt came from him and came shortly after you.
After a while of catching his breath, he pulled away and lied down next to you.
“You’re lucky these soldiers are heavy sleepers, and my tent isn’t close to theirs.”
You covered your face, realizing that you were basically surrounded by more faes. “I don’t want to show my face to them,”
Essentially, the soldiers were heavy sleepers thanks to their absolute weariness from having to train early in the day, do manual work, fight, run up and down the mountain, and everything else. They didn’t hear a thing. As for Baur, however...
The youngest Palestinian journalist is a 9 year old girl.
Her name Lama Jamous.
Lama has been reporting on tik tok what has been happening in Gaza. Her father is a journalist working for Al Jazeera and is trying to get her out of Rafah.
Link to the gofundme from the video
Please share her story.
Edited to include video description provided by @a-captions-blog
[Video description: TikTok by @ZerlinaSchmerlina, whose face is edited over a photo of a Palestinian child holding a phone camera up to the sea. This was posted by lama_jamous9. Zerlina says: This is Lama. She is a nine-year-old Afro-Palestinian journalist who lives in Gaza, and her father is trying really hard to get her evacuated into Egypt. There is a GoFundMe link in my bio where people have raised well over $48,000. I think It's like $52,000 right now to help get her and her family into Egypt. But what is really really important that we can do is please make videos, and please share and repost videos really raising awareness about the urgency of getting her into safety, her and her family to safety. I have tagged Al Jazeera English in this caption, but you can also tag them in your own videos that you make, in the comment section on Instagram etc. Please help raise awareness. [The background photo changes to show Lama holding a pink flower up to the camera.] Constant effort and pressure for a ceasefire can sometimes feel hopeless when our governments are not listening to us, but if there’s something we can do to help one, two, three children, let’s please do it. Please make a video and help raise awareness, and help put the pressure on to bring her and her family into safety. \End description]
synopsis ☆ blade wishes that his path had never collided with yours.
content info — smut (minors stay away 😡 i'm warning you), ANGST, fem! reader, regular fic but with a twist on the format. violence at the very end so be aware of that.
word count — 2.1k words.
author's note — this has been in my drafts forever. normally i don't write angst but i was listening to halsey's badlands album & it instantly gave birth to this fic. the entire album is so blade coded that it hurts. anyways this is just 100% pain and smut, there is no comfort. nonetheless i hope you enjoy this drabble and its unplanned christmas theme (i apologize in advance 😓) ALSO i'm working on reqs as we speak i swear
BLADE has never had time to entertain romantic affairs, or even indulge in spontaneous sexual encounters. such matters reeked of the kind of superficial sentimentality that he's long discarded due to its blatant, disgusting lack of appeal. since he’s remembered, all he’s ever really wanted is to taste death, to be enrobed within its earnest invitation and to finally relieve himself of his all-consuming burden. there was no room for anything else—especially something as trivial as fulfilling the human heart’s wishes.
YOU didn't plan to get involved with the agenda of the stellaron hunters, but perhaps your hopes were ultimately futile when your older sister was their very leader. really, what's funny was the fact that even though you two were related by blood, and were raised together, you only shared two traits: a sharp gaze tinted with magenta and the useful gift of perception. otherwise, you might as well have been nameless strangers. you were kind, forgiving, and preferred to heal rather than harm; kafka was the complete opposite, her manicured fingers gleefully stained with scarlet.
BLADE remembers finding himself in an unusual state of confusion when he had first met you. your appearance in itself contrasted against your team members; whereas they wore dark shades of black, purple, and red, you were clad in smooth clothes of pure silver, which didn’t make sense since they would end up dirtied and tainted either way. he remembers disapproving of your very presence because you seemed entirely unfit to fulfill your job—to kill mercilessly and to follow elio's script without an ounce of remorse or hesitation. "you don't belong here," he'd sneered, his vexation only increasing when he saw the docile smile you'd given him in response.
YOU weren't ever truly angered by the blatant acts of disrespect that blade displayed during the earliest stages of your connection. some would argue that you possessed the patience of a saint, and though you wouldn't exactly disprove such a claim, you'd say that it extended far beyond that. there was something you saw behind the scarlet hue of blade's gaze, something that lain dormant behind all the hostility. for a reason unknown, you soon grew the desire to discover it, and to maybe in turn help the man in some way. it didn't matter if a part of your soul had to be sacrificed—you would do it.
BLADE found it all too easy to decline your attempts. it was a continuous, repetitive process, where you’d seek him out and offer a few questions that seemed unassuming at first, and he’d respond by pointing out the obvious holes ruining your facade. he didn’t know why you were suddenly so eager to uncover information about him—or, to “properly acquaint yourself” as you’d innocently described it—but he didn’t care either way because it wasn’t worth trying to. at least those were the words he told himself for the first four months.
YOU managed to break down the weakest parts of blade’s walls by the fifth month. it was slow, and arduous, and yes, a bit frustrating—hearing him curse you out wasn’t really a motivating experience—but ultimately your efforts prevailed in the end. finally, if only a little bit, he opened up to you, and he began giving short but actual responses instead of a mere grunt or a simple click of the tongue. and so he started filling in small snippets about himself. how he found pleasure in the familiarity of a sword. how he despised the way your sister called him ‘bladie.’ how kuding tea was one of his preferred drinks. how he couldn’t remember the last time he dreamt in his slumber.
BLADE was rather astounded by the change in behavior you seemed to have withdrawn from him. at first he denied the reality and brushed off the occurrence as him simply taking the easier route, so that he didn’t continue to waste unnecessary effort on dodging your pesky questions. but here was the truth—he wasn’t lazy, ever. he always did things for a reason, always justified his actions with some kind of logic, no matter how immoral. something strange was happening, and he wasn’t entirely sure why, but he still tried to maintain a form of apathetic distance. blade convinced himself that things were remaining strictly professional. even as his pale hands somehow found themselves entangled within your soft hair during one stormy night, and even as his chapped lips pressed against yours.
YOU were surprised but not at all unwelcoming of the unorthodox suggestion that blade gave you one day. in a tone that betrayed no emotion, he asked—well, perhaps demanded—that you two enter a sort of arrangement that he called “being each other’s respective stress relief.” in a more straightforward, explicit manner, you two would use each other for physical pleasure whenever needed. that was where the intimacy started, and it was where it ended. with your heart beating a bit more than it should have, you agreed. blade smiled—a small, predatory kind of smile—before engulfing you in a harsh kiss, backing you into the wall as his hand squeezed around your neck.
BLADE relished the sounds that he was able to elicit from you—sweet, pretty little moans, desperate, high-pitched whines, and of course, the breathless mantra of his own name. every ounce of it made him swell with smug pride, and made his cock harden even more. your eyes would shut tightly whenever you felt particularly overwhelmed with pleasure, and of course he’d always force you to open them. after all he needed you to see just how much of a slut you were for him, just how much he’d ruin you with the marks he’d leave all over your skin and the countless orgasms he’d trigger within you. somewhere in the very back of his mind, there was a faint voice that warned him of the territory he was threatening to cross, just barely short of touching the edge. but he ignored it in favor of savoring the depraved sense of exhilaration that electrified his veins, knowing that he was the one corrupting his colleague’s sweet, innocent, naive little sister.
YOU found your heart beating impossibly faster every time your lips met his, every time he quietly snuck into your quarters and whispered things that were only for you to hear. of course it was only inevitable that you fell in love with the man himself. long forgotten was your goal to solely fix him because in a strange, almost twisted way, it was like you were healing yourself with every scorching touch of his fingers, every relentless thrust of his hips. and for better or for worse, it felt like he was starting to care for you against all odds, and you saw it through the littlest of things. how his dull scarlet eyes seemed to brighten just for a second when he saw you, how he started to stay the night after he ravished you, how his fingers traced your beautifully bruised skin with an uncharacteristic gentleness when he thought you were asleep. you loved it, and soon his embrace was the only thing you learned to crave.
BLADE seemed like he was caught in a peculiar trance ever since you two had agreed to the "stress relief" arrangement. it was unimaginable, really—or at least it should have been. not once had he felt such unbridled emotion for a woman, or for any person in general. he detested the sensation at first. hated how vulnerable it made him feel. so, whenever he felt particularly exposed, whenever you smiled at him for too long, he used your body as a distraction. he'd mark your skin as if he was nothing more than a mindless animal, would pin both your wrists above your head as he snarled, hips smacking against yours. the strategy would work for some time, but the moment he saw you fall into a peaceful slumber—exhausted from all the rigorous activity—the emotions would come rushing at him again, full force. soon there was a voice at the back of his mind, whispering of how he was falling into a trap. one that he had arrogantly, unknowingly set for himself.
YOU started to feel a shift in blade's behavior, noticing how he became more distant as the days passed. your conversations shortened and shortened until they became almost reminiscent of the ones you'd have at the beginning of your relationship. your nightly sessions dwindled in frequency, eventually reaching the point where he barely even knocked on your door at all. all of it drove you to the brink of insanity, worry consuming every ounce of your being until you couldn't handle it anymore. "what the hell?" you had hissed, pulling the man aside once silver wolf and your sister had retreated to their quarters for the night. "why won't you talk to me, blade? what did i do?" but even that didn't work. all he did was scoff and push past your figure, shaking off your grip when you reached out for him. the next day, you were so distraught that, in a fit of desperation, you asked your sister for help. but the only thing you received was a look of warped pity and an obscure comment. "once the candle burns out, the room grows dark again." kafka murmured.
BLADE couldn't handle any of it anymore, his seemingly endless endurance having reached past its limit. he hated the way you looked at him in confusion and anger, and most of all, betrayal, as if he had stabbed you in the back. he might as well have. but above that, he hated the way you reminded him of his curse's weight. in another life, he had thought of immortality as a gift—a gleaming trophy awarded only to those who had gone above and beyond to prove their superiority. how foolish he had been. immortality was a burden, its pressure so insurmountable that it felt heavier than holding up the sky itself. from the very beginning, he'd known that being immortal meant that he'd have to watch the people around him fall prey to death's embrace, but somehow that simple fact evaded his mind when he—it still pains him to admit this—developed feelings for you. he wasn't quite sure if what he felt was love in its raw form, but he was pretty damn certain that it was the closest he was going to ever get. because as selfishly and disgustingly sentimental as it was, the last thing he wanted was to see you wither with age, until you were nothing more than another corpse. and so with a shaky breath, and an unstable heart, he decided to handle the situation in the only way he knew how to.
the truth was that YOU truly were one of the most perceptive people out there, even as heartbreak dulled your senses. so you heard the muted footsteps and saw the swiftly approaching shadow. you knew who it was, even without sparing a glance. still, you remained motionless, your movements almost painfully frozen as your eyes slid shut. tears silently rolled down your face, staining your skin even before the sword pierced through your chest. crimson seeped through your silver blouse like ink on a blank canvas. you fell to the ground, exhaling unshakily, unrivaled pain blooming within every inch of your body. you felt the strength being drained from your spirit, but you mustered the will to meet blade's scarlet gaze. "guess i should have expected this, huh?" you murmur, fingers moving to feel where he'd stabbed you. silently, blade crouched down to your level, his expression unreadable. you reached for his hand, neither of you flinching when his skin became stained with your blood.
"all of this was a mistake," BLADE muttered, tone betraying not even an ounce of emotion. still, he kept his fingers intertwined with yours, and that action alone was enough. "my fate is already determined, but you sealed your own the second you approached me." the wind was cold and unforgiving around the two of you, its invisible talons recklessly combing through the man's ebony strands of hair. but blade paid it no mind, not even when a particularly harsh gust threatened to overwhelm your last words. and as time would tell, those were the very words that would haunt him in the future.
"i'd seal my fate over and over if it meant that i'd see you happy again." you whispered, and for once you failed to notice one crucial detail.
for the first and last time, blade's vision grew blurry from his tears.
ever since you’ve became friends with hobie, he makes your insides feel all weird. he’s got to know what this feeling is. he can probably help you with it, right?
caution! mdni 6k wrdz, mentions of religion, reader is super sheltered, set in a college setting, black fem reader, fingering reader receiving, oral reader receiving, corruption kink mayb just barely, hobie is real gentle, everything happens on a desk, blushing is described but can’t be physically seen, unrealistic description of coochie juice we all know it doesn’t actually taste like that hobie is just obsessed, the smut section is a littleeee bit short but i def think i could expand on this in the future
hobie has been a good friend of yours for a few month now. it all really started at a party at the college you attend. with it being your first year, every experience is a new one. your sheltered childhood only further added to it.
it was easy, hobie always claims, to tell you didn’t belong when you stood in the room, eyes wide and frantic. not to mention, you were fully dressed in jeans and a sweater. he didn’t understand how you hadn’t passed out, yet.
he walks up to you that very same night. your panic only became more evident when he’s introducing himself. “you alright, love?” and he’s truthfully concerned. you’re nearly shaking, hands clasped together.
you explain to him what happened. that the group of girls you came with disappeared, that you don’t know anyone here, that you’re extremely overwhelmed.
it’s hobie who leaves the party early, despite enjoying himself. he escorts you back to your room and stands outside your door until it’s clicked shut and locked. he also leaves his number in your phone that night with the innocent promise to help you with whatever you need.
the reaction from your parents is expected when you tell them what happened. you receive a scolding for going to the party and indulging in secular music and sin, as well as trusting a man and allowing him access to your room. you can argue that you didn’t invite him in but your parents won’t and don’t listen.
you’re used to it, used to their lectures that you actually heed their warnings. all your life you’ve been living by their rules. no boys and no parties. church every sunday, home at nine. you’ve even accepted the routine phone checks every night with no back-talk. this has been your way of living since forever.
so of course the big, gentle, temptation himself intrigues you to no end when you’re presented with such an open gateway. you’re sure if your god-fearing parents saw him, they’d have a heart attack right on the spot.
six five and exactly what your parents warned you against. piercings galore, stick and poke tattoos decorating his skin. his hair is assorted into wicks, which you don’t mind but your relatives would have called him sloppy. not to mention the clothes he wears, decorated in spikes and chains. sometimes the gems in his belt catches the sun in just the right way and he glows like an angel.
hobie gives you butterflies and not just in your stomach but in other places as well.
you don’t know what to do about the fluttering in your pussy when hobie’s had grazes your thigh when he bends to pick something up. even the word pussy has your face warming up.
at first, you thought it would be a one time, unrelated thing. the wet mess in your panties shocked you after spending your evening with hobie. you made a mental note to stop by the doctors in case it was something serious and went about your night.
and then it happened again and every night since. coincidentally, you’re with hobie every night, only to return to the safety of your dorm and deal with the same heated feeling.
that’s exactly how you find yourself in this dilemma tonight. you’re as quiet as a mouse, strewn across his bed. the strip led lights cast a blue shadow on the room. hobie is across from you at his desk, clicking around in some music making site you wouldn’t even try to comprehend.
his headphones are over his head, stretched to the biggest setting to accommodate his hair and his fingers, nails painted black, tap against the wooden desk. hobie can’t hear you with the noise filling his ears. he hums softly to the beat.
you’ve been staring at him for a while, now. originally, you were working on some homework due that night but your gaze found him and his sharp jawline that’s just barely visible from the diagonal angle he’s sitting.
before you know it, your eyes have wandered downwards until you’re looking at his legs, wide and manspreeding. your downstairs area does that weird pulsating thing.
you lips form into a pout and you shift to remove the discomfort. you never actually made it to the doctor, having realized this is only something you experience around hobie. despite this unusual situation find yourself in, distancing yourself from him wasn’t an option. oddly enough, he’s one of the few people that didn’t make you feel other.
“come listen to this.” hobie swivels in her chair to face you. he pops the headphones off his head and waves you over. “was thinkin’ about submittin’ it as my project.”
you sheepishly shake your head. your cheeks burn at the possibility of him catching you. “oh, i don’t think you want me to.” it makes you nervous to partake in the creation of something so vividly can nonreligious. you're already laying in his bed, unsupervised and alone with him. all your teachings let you know it could lead to other things.
he tilts his head, dangling the headphones off his fingertips. you can hear the punk rock melody blaring from where you’re stationed. “you never wanna listen to my music. scared or somethin’?” he doesn’t wait for a response, already slapping the bluetooth headphones back over his ears and turning back.
hobie already knows the answer but he’s uncaring, regardless. he’s become accustomed to your thinking and even though he feels it’s distorted with reality, he doesn’t judge you for it. nor does he blame you.
you’re back to staring at him and the way his hands dance across the keys. his hands are so big, you think. each finger is slender and long and could probably swallow you whole.
you take your lips in between your teeth with a disgruntled sigh. all these impure thoughts are driving you up the wall. you can’t even blame him because he’s doing nothing to provoke it. you, apparently, just can’t control yourself.
with hobie’s back to you, you’re able to silently pack your stuff up. your laptop is tucked away into your bag and you grab your spiral notebook. he doesn’t notice you’re preparing to leave until you softly slide off his platformed bed and shove your feet into the soles of your matte mary janes.
“where are you going, duck?” he pushes the left side back until it’s no longer covering his ear, rapidly glancing at you.
“my room.” you grab your hello kitty lanyard off his desk. “i’m going to do my work in there. can’t do it here. i’m too distracted.” you sling your bag over your shoulder.
“shit, is it me? hobie pauses his track. he’s rapidly hanging his headphones on the stand and jumping to his feet. “at least let me walk you back.”
hobie stuffs his feet in his traditional black boots. he doesn’t care enough to tie the blue, ladder laced laces. he’s already grabbing that loud, extravagantly pinned vest before you have a chance to blink.
“no, you don’t have to do that.” you nervously fiddle with the blue ribbon tied at the base of your braid. “i don’t want to inconvenience you and it’s not the far from your room.”
he merely tsked and rests his hand atop your head, right in between the pigtails. “darlin’ there’s no chance i’m lettin’ you walk your little self back alone. you of all people? fuck no.”
“hobie!” you chastise, hands flying up to cover your ears. the keys dangle and bump again your cheek. your mom always told you that anyone who says adverse words is going straight to hellfire. you didn’t want to be apart of that.
he opens the door and motions you through, a hand on the small of your back. “you’d follow a man to his truck just ‘cause he said please.”
the warmth from his fingertips spread throughout the nerves on your spine and you feel like you’re on fire. you pout and it can easily be mistaken for your opposing opinions on your naivety.
“sorry but it’s true.” the door clicks shut when both of you have stepped outside it. hobie shoves his keys inside his pocket and begins down the hallway to the elevator. he hasn’t noticed you trailing behind him, teeming with explanations as to why your core throbs at the sight of him.
you do this all the way until you’re out the door of the men’s dormitory. you haven’t uttered a word, thumb rubbing against the warming metal of the cross dangling around your neck.
it’s not like you’ve ever felt this feeling before. not even around the other boys you’ve been around. granted, your hangouts were never like this. it was always under adult supervision, even in your older years, and you mostly saw each other during youth groups and summer camps. this, what you’re feeling now, is an entirely new and uncharted territory.
“hobie,” you start. the warm summer breeze ripples across your skin and leaves behind a chill of the promised winter to follow.
hobie lifts his head. the rock he kicked scattered off the sidewalk and into the grass. he hasn’t spoken to you. either. that’s the best thing about him. he doesn’t ask questions, letting you process things your own way. hobie is all too aware of your differences and has no problem letting you take your time.
“i have a question. it’s kind of personal, i think.” you take a brief pause before each word, meticulously picking them to match your uncertainty.
hobie is still silent. at some point, you would have begin to question if he’s even listening to you if it weren’t for the way he lazily shifted his gaze over to you.
“are you . . . have you ever gotten this feeling in your stomach? like a hot one.” you wet your lips. your heart is about ready to stop beating. how do you explain this to him? are you just supposed to tell him he makes your no-no square all fired up? do people say that?
“what are you goin’ on about, lovely? has my stomach ever burned? yeah, if i eat enough dairy.” he chuckles with a small shake of his head. unbeknownst to him, that is not at all what you’re referring to and you are too ashamed to ask him again.
“never mind,” you say with your head hung low.
it’s your parents fault and the way they neglected to teach you about your body. it’s not like you’re a complete idiot and you know sex can lead to children. however, you were taught that sex is bad and children are blessings so it’s fair to say you’re a bit clueless on the contrasting beliefs. not to mention this weird feeling a boy invokes. the boy that might as well be the son of satan himself.
you sigh, heavy and drawn, pulling your keycard out your lanyard. it scans and the lock beeps, allowing you both entrance into the girls dormitory.
hobie lifts an arm and holds the door open over your head. he’s confused. it’s obvious you’re mulling over something, putting so much energy into it that you don’t notice the weight of his eyes boring into the back of your head.
it isn’t until you’re standing in front of your door does he speak his mind. “what’s keepin’ your head so busy?”
your hand is steady on the handle but you have yet to turn it. you can feel the heat from his body standing so close to yours and just once you wish for him to reach forward and put his hand — oh no.
“m – maybe you should just come inside.” you yank your door open and pull him behind you. it’s a drastic decision on your part. never have you ever invited any man in your room, not even hobie. at best, he got glimpses of the shared living space but never of your room down the hall. he’s always walked you back, stood at your door until you were safe inside, and made his exit. always.
even when he’s come to walk you to class, your roommates would open the door and invite him in but he’d stay planted right at your welcome mat. hobie knows you, knows what silly boundaries you have but he follows them strictly because as long as you’re comfortable, he’s comfortable.
“hold on, look at me.” hobie finds himself abruptly stopping in your living room. he yanks his arm until you’ve spun back around and settles his hands atop your shoulders. his eyes fall on your lips, caught between you teeth and nearly knawed raw. he doesn’t miss your hands clenched into tiny fists by your side. “are you okay? this isn’t like you to act so . . . erratic.”
he has to stop his curiosity from getting the best of him and drink in the interior decorations you’ve done. out the corner of his eyes, he can tell just what you contributed, different nooks and crannies filled with pink trinkets and round eyed figurines. you’re the sweetest thing all worked up and making rash decisions. he doesn’t like where this is leading.
you give him a small nod of your head, eyes downcast and on the tops of his worn boots. the grime is welcoming. better than looking in his eye and having him see how unnerved you are.
as if you aren’t shaking under his grasp.
“dove, don’t lie to me. if there is somethin’ wrong, you need to let me know and i need to hear you say it.” his hands drop to your elbows, fingertips just barely touching your skin. hobie knows you’re avoiding him, avoiding addressing something big but welcoming him in your personal space. the contrast is enormous and it’s especially a big deal for you.
“i’m f – fine. i just . . .” you timidly shift your feet, sweatered arms going to wrap around yourself. you’re clutching your cross again, attention boring into the floor. “. . . can we please talk about it in my room. it’s not something i want to say here.”
he’s hesitant to let you go, drawing in a breath. you’re going to be the death of him, he decides, with the way you concern him but he’ll take your word for it. maybe, maybe just maybe you know exactly what you want.
he allows you to take him back to your room, pushing the door open. immediately, he gets a good whiff of the clean linen wax you have burning in your wax warmer.
your space is tidy, but not necessarily clean. you’re a bit of a maximalist, soft blankets and frills draped around your room. you have posters and paper hearts hanging on your wall, a my melody rug laying in the floor beneath your chair.
there’s a couple flower cushions strewn about and plenty of stuffed animals to go around. you have fairy lights across the wood of bed, casting the room in soft yellow lighting. there’s a rack in the corner full of lacey clothes that he assumes you’re planning on wearing soon.
you look so comfortable, fitting right in. of course you do, considering you decorated it yourself. hobie lingers at the edge of the room while you go through your routine of taking off your shoes and putting your bag by your desk. you’re putting your earrings in the strawberry shaped jewlery holder when you finally address him.
“you don’t have to stand there like that. you can take your shoes off and stuff,” you speak with your back turned to him. you know it’s weird, having him in here. it’s weirder when hobie acts as if his presence in your room will turn it into an active landmine.
hobie licks his lips, hands deep inside his pockets. he doesn’t even want to let his eyes linger too long on anything in fear he’s taint your purity, full of innocence and hope. “what am i here for?”
you rest your hand against the cool, light colored wood of your desk. you feel feverish, the topic making your palm sticky with sweat. the room suddenly gets hot and you’re clearing your throat while motioning for hobie to close the door. “um, well . . .” you trail off, tapping your manicured fingers loud enough to fill the silence with quiet clicks and clacks. “i have something to ask you.”
“ ‘nd you needed to bring me here to ask me?” his head tilts in deep skepticism. hobie leans against the white wall next to your door. he doesn’t want to go any further. he doesn’t belong here.
you’re irked, hands flying to wrap around yourself. the ruffles at the bottom of your dress rub against each other like flower petals in a spring breeze. “just listen! i have something serious to ask you and you’re being awkward. it’s making me awkward.”
hobie lifts and drops his shoulders. he’s tense when he crosses the threshold of your room and takes an uncomfortable seat at your desk chair. “sorry doll but we both know i’m not supposed to be in here. what do you want to talk about? make it quick so i can go.” he leans back as far as the chair will allow, eyes up and on you.
his question demands a straight forward response, one that you cannot provide. you don’t know what is happening, yourself. you’re back to your silence, grasping for words to form an explanation. “remember when i asked you if your stomach ever burned before?”
“not this again. i thought we already talked about –”
“no! listen.” you’re shouting at him again, lips pressed into a pout. you’re just barely working up the courage and you need to get it out before it goes away. “lately, i’ve been feeling like that but not in my stomach.”
you’re speaking so fast, hobie can barely understand you. he just catches your words, suddenly sitting up with his brows knitted together. “are you okay? sick?” he presses his hands flesh against your cheeks and forehead but your skin isn’t warm to the touch.
“n – no. not that i know of.” you nearly whine when his fingertips brush along your waist as they’re lowered back to his side. “it’s a little uncomfortable.” you rub your knees together in an attempt to satiate the ache between your thighs.
hobie has enough experience to recognize the little shuffle you do, accompanied by the needy glint in your eye. it startles him. not you. anyone but you, miss purity herself. he’s seeing things. “then what?”
he’s terrified of the way you look at him, eyes glossed over. the cherry colored blush dusted across your cheeks appeals to your cherubic state. this is his worst nightmare and best dream, that you would entice him like this.
it isn’t easy to ignore the chub of your ass that you’re unaware you carry and the softness of your breasts when you grab his arm and press your body against his. it especially isn’t easy to ignore the sweetness in your voice when you plead and chastise him for his vulgar words and behavior. oh how badly does he want to twist your brain but he won’t. he can’t allow himself to. you’re too good for that and that’s the problem.
“i feel weird inside around you, hobie. only you and . . . i don’t know.” you’re meek and quiet, face advert and back in the ruffled hem of your white socks. you cross and uncross your ankles to satisfy your need to stir and wriggle. “i wasn’t going to say anything but i don’t know how to make it stop and sometimes it hurts.”
you look so pitiful and pretty like this, almost begging for his help. it doesn’t take a genius to understand what you mean but hobie can’t bring himself to act on it. it feels so wrong on so many levels. he can’t take advantage of your unawareness like this.
“aw baby,” he has to curl his fingers into his palm to prevent himself from reaching out and grabbing you. that’s why you were so insistent on coming to your room. “you don’t want my help with that.” he keeps telling himself he has to be the bigger person, the one who thinks clearly.
“i do,” you insist, daring to take a bold step closer until you’re slotted between his knees. it’s a lot for you, coiling in on yourself to find comfort despite acting out your comfort zone. “i can’t take it anymore. you don’t understand.”
his hand comes up to rest against your cheek, following an empathetic shake of his head. “no, you don’t understand. you don’t even know what you’re talking about. what am i supposed to do if you can’t even tell me what you’re talking about?”
hobie stands, presumably to take his leave. he pushes you away from him by your waist. he’s stopped when you wrap your hand around his slender wrist, staring up at him with big, entreating eyes.
“please? anything? please, hobie. i’ll take anything just help me do something. tell me what to do, i don’t care. it’s terrible and uncomfortable and i can’t bear it anymore.”
he takes one look at you and is met with your waterline, gathering in tears of desperation. all his resolve slowly breaks until he’s cupping your cheeks with a soft sigh. “you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that? babblin’ about shit you don’t even understand.” he’s gentle, backing you up until your knees are knocking against your desk. he sits you up there, hands resting on either side of you.
“hobie,” you reprimand him again for his words out of habit, hands going to cover your ears again.
he stops them, much larger ones enscasing yours with a tut of his tongue. “don’t even. you don’t get to complain about me sayin’ shit and fuck and whatever else. not right now.” he presses your palm against his lips, piercings warm against your skin.
your mouth falls open, only to wordlessly shut. you don’t know what to say, what to do. all you know is you’re slightly overwhelmed with the future possibilities. what’s about to happen? what is he going to do?
“i don’t even know what to do with you. you sure this is what you want?” hobie doesn’t feel he needs to ask with the way you were begging him but he can’t help it. you’re such a sweet thing, asking him to do something about your aching cunt. you don’t even know what you’re asking him.
you nod, eyes widening when his hand falls over your knee. it’s a respectful distance but you’re anxious, already wiggling under his gaze. “you keep asking me.”
“i know darlin’ but can you blame me? just gotta make sure.” hobie ever-so-swiftly slides his hand up your thigh until his thumb is brushing against the front of your panties. he isn’t interested in beating around the bush and quite frankly, it would be so much better to just get the first touch done for. break the ice just enough.
your body immediately reacts, legs pressing closed as far as you can get them. your eyebrows knit together as your nerves crackle and pop with a sudden desire you haven’t felt before. “i’m s – sure.”
“never had this pretty pussy played with before have you? ‘course not. you’re a good girl.”
you hate the way he’s talking to you. it’s not quite derogatory but it makes you feel otherworldly in a negative way. as if you have no clue what he’s talking about. you don’t. and his words are so unclean.
“not gonna fuck you tonight. you’re not ready for that, yet.” he aids your legs back open with a firm grip, holding them in place. “you know what that means, yeah?” hobie doesn’t mean it as an insult, circling his thumb around your already puffy clit.
“mhm,” you’re wiggling again, lip caught between your teeth. you’ve heard the phrase in passing, understanding the word and its context. never have you used it, yourself. you’re clueless, not dumb.
hobie bunches your white dress up by your hips. he’s greeted with a view of your black panties, dark enough to conceal the dampening spot but he can still feel it beneath the pad of his thumb.
your glittery lip gloss has begun to spill over your plump lip and dribble down your chin with how much you quiver. he swipes the excess off, lightly chuckles at the way you fawn and fall over.
just over the clothes touching has you like this, mewling and hiccuping and doing your best to conceal it. it’s endearing, the way you try to maintain his level of composure.
he continues toying with you, a bit hesitant. it’s not like him but hobie knows he has to take his time with you. he can’t rush. he has to prep you thoroughly, get you used to his touches. this is what you want.
“and you’re not gonna act all shy when i take these off, are you?” his finger hooks through the leg hole, snapping the fabric back until it pops against you when it’s released. “or are you still trying to be a little angel?”
the thought of hobie pulling your underwear down and seeing what no one, let alone a man, has seen. your private jewels that you’re sure are soaping wet the way they are every other night. your cheeks heat up and you squeeze your eyes shut, knees trying to do the same. “no, i’m not.” you’re trying to be so brave, it’s cute.
“don’t worry, dolly. not yet. just gonna rub your cunt, just like this.” he pushes and pulls on your clit, hot underneath the pressure of his thumb. it has your hips shuffling in an attempt to rut against him. he doesn’t know if you’re aware, the way you stare at him like he hung the moon himself. “could make you cum like this, i bet. you ever done that before?”
a particular jerk of his finger has you gasping and grabbing whatever part of him you can get to first, his forearm and his shoulder. “i never –,” your chest heaves with a broken moan, partially restrained, “n – no. i don’t.”
as far as you know, premature sex and masturbation is a sin. you have never been tempted before even meeting hobie. not only would he be the first to touch you but he’d be the first to make you cum.
his boxers get increasingly more tight at the thought. you’re so pure and he’s so lucky, being the first, even before you, to dip his fingers between your folds. he can barely restrain himself.
hobie plants himself in your hair, his gruff groan vibrating your scalp. he can’t help the way his thumb jostles your clit. it’s nearly primal, how badly he wants to draw an orgasm out of you and he knows you’ll do it so easy with how pent up and inexperienced you are.
“you don’t gotta hide it, baby. let me hear you, dove. tell me what you like so i can make you feel good.” your hair smells of vanilla and shea butter. it makes hobie want to devour every part of you, his long cock leaking with precum but he has to remember to take his time. he has to.
“hobie . .” your weak whine fills the hazy spot in his brain that’s indulged so deeply in every part of you. you don’t have to tell him for him to know, it’s obvious in how you’re unable to be still, nails stabbing into his skin. “i f – feel weird.” you’re so wound up.
hobie pulls his head back. he feels heavy with need as he tilts your chin towards his face. he just wants to see you, that’s all. he just needs to see the expression you make the first time you cum. “don’t fight it, sweet girl. just let it happen. it’ll feel real good.” his thumb strokes your jawline, coaxing you to give in to the growing lust filled pit in your stomach.
hobie knows you cum simply because he can feel it. your pussy spams so hard, he swears he can hear it. he doesn’t even have to put a finger up to your entrance to feel the pulsating. it’s almost as if your hole is searching for something to suck in.
your mouth has fallen open in a tiny o, working your body into hobie’s through your experience. he was right. it felt so good, satiating the need and burn of your body. it’s almost addicting, the way your body reacts to his touch. your brain is becoming mush with each throb. “oh my goodness.” you speak in between breaths, finally releasing hobie and drawing back your nails.
he only chuckles, rubbing at your thighs. “that was good, wasn’t it? did it help your little problem?” he plays with the bottom of your dress, conflicted between pulling it down to set you free and suggesting another round. you offered a starved man a seat at the table.
you smile shyly at him. you don’t know what to say now, what to do. your friend just made you cum after you begged him to. how do people do this casually? “yes, thank you. i’m deeply sorry for being so forceful.”
at this, hobie laughs out loud. it’s genuine and booming against the walls. it seems he has yet to break you in but he supposed he was too hopeful. of course he couldn’t turn you into something like him just from rubbing on you a little bit.
“you’re all good, duck. you weren’t being forceful, at all.” he pulls out the desk chair and takes a seat, getting comfortable in the flower shaped cushion. his limber fingers are back to picking at the side of your panties. he’s a bit hungry, he thinks.
his eyes, dark and narrowed, do something to you. you don’t understand. you can still feel the sticky mess in your underwear but something is stirring inside you, again.
you both stare at each other in a heated silence, thinking the same thing but waiting for the other to say it first.
“you want me to eat you out?” hobie is the first to speak with his head tilted. he’s far more impatient and bold to play around. when he wants something, he’ll take it.
at first, you believe you heard him incorrectly. “do i want you to what?” you feel stupid having to ask but you’re truly at a loss. “i’m sorry. hobie, i don’t know what that is.”
hobie is the luckiest man in the world. if he could whip his cock out and slide it inside you, he would but having you on his tongue would be the next best thing, especially when you’re asking him what that is. “you’re about to find out.” he murmurs, pulling you to the edge of the desk.
you’re surprised when hobie yanks your underwear down, lifting up a hip at a time to get it down your legs and tossed across the room. both the cool air and his dark gaze has you snapping your legs shut. there’s too many things to hide from and you’re unprepared.
“no, no. don’t shut me out like that.” he has his hands hooked under your knees and props them on your shoulders. his excuse is that it would be better for you to manage but truthfully, he does it to get an eye to cunt view. he pulls you even closer until your lower body is dipping into his lap and you’re relying on him to hold you up. “you’re gonna like it, i promise.”
“oh, i don’t know about this.” you grip the edge of the desk, still sitting up and getting a perfect view of the carnal look in hobie’s eye. he actually licks his lips, flicking his attention up to you for only a second.
“just once. just try it once and if you don’t like it, we can stop. you have my word.”
you don’t know how much you can trust him like this but his warm breathe is just tickling you in all the best ways. it’s hypnotizing enough to have you nodding in agreement before you know it. “o – okay.”
hobie has enough sense, what little he has left, to put a hand in your tummy and pushing you down until your back is against the cool wood. he doesn’t have to tell you to stay there. he just knows you will, especially when you’re gasping at the feeling of his hot tongue on your cunt.
your sap is sweet and unbelievably so. like cherries and strawberries and mangos on a warm summer day. he’s delusional, drunk already and nose deep in your cunt.
his tongue finds your entrance as the source of the sweetness all to easy. he’s addicted to it, each suckle and slurp persuading more of your cream to pour out your hole.
it doesn’t take you long to start writhing, hand all in his hair, tugging in every direction. each swipe of his tongue and bump of his nose in your clit has your back arching. it’s better than you could have ever imagined. you can’t believe you were about to turn this down, or the fact that you didn’t allow yourself to experience such pleasure simply because of your parents fears.
you cry and sob, legs shaking on his shoulders. you can’t decide whether or not you want to tighten your legs around his head or open them wider to accept more of him. “hobie, p – please!”
hobie almost doesn’t hear you. almost.
your words just barely float around his brain but your pleas stick just enough for him to push your legs up by the bottom of your thighs. he keeps you hooked there so strongly, he’s able to grasp your hand and maintain his hold.
it sounds so wet that it’s humiliating. you can’t believe these sounds are coming from you, that hobie’s tongue is deep in you, that he has you folded like this. you didn’t know this was possible.
your body is all warm all over again. you’re fortunate there’s no excess clutter on your desk with the way hobie has you. your hands fly to the metal structure holding your bed together, mouth drying from how long you’ve held it open.
you swear it comes faster than it did before. it occurs to you that you’re a ticking time bomb. the previous orgasm has your clit feeling like each touch is a hot stone.
it’s as if hobie steals your breath with your growing cries at your approaching release. you don’t know what to do with yourself, where to put your hands. it’s overwhelming, your second orgasm and the first time anyone has ever “eaten you out”.
“feel weird again!” you say through broken sobs. you’re met with hobie’s acknowledging hands massaging into your skin. he’s coaxing, encouraging you without having to remove himself from his new favorite spot in the world, right between your thighs.
it gives you whiplash with how quickly your orgasm comes, pushing out of you as if the first one never happened. it’s just as strong, if not stronger. your body trembles with your spurts of cream. it’s weeks worth of sexual frustration to know end and a confusing search of a solution, all washed off you in one night.
you’re so sensitive, you have to push him off with your feet at his chest and chest heaving for air. “fuck, that was good.”
“did you just say fuck?” hobie leans over you, bringing the bottom of his shirt up to wipe your sheen off his face. he’s well amused, almost snorting at your response. that had to be his influence.
“did i?” you cover your mouth with quick regret. you didn’t realize it rolled off your tongue so easy.
hobie grins, pulling you to seating and then to your feet. he tries not to ogle at you too much. it’s difficult when your lower half is completely exposed and he’s still so desperately horny but he puts your needs first, closing his eyes and clearing his throat. “you got somethin’ to clean you up with? wipes or somethin’ until you shower?”
you open your desk drawer and pull out a pack of baby wipes. you present the package to hobie, who pops it open and takes one out.
he doesn’t ask you to move, merely just lowers himself to the ground and with gentle hands, wipe up the mixed mess of saliva and your juices.
you whine, presumably from the unavoidable ache that accompanies your sensitivity.
“i’m sorry, lovely. have to,” hobie tries to be as quick and harmless as possible, soothing you with kisses to your inner thigh. they’re well mannered and innocent, until you’re clean enough and he’s throwing the baby wipe away. “are you okay, though? you don’t regret it, do you?”
you watch hobie straighten out your dress again. his gaze is as polite as it can get, avoiding any look at your pussy, although its right in front of him. instead, he meets your eyes until he rises to his feet. “um, no.” you’re back to being quiet, hands clasped and fumbling with each other.
you’re suddenly aware of how close he’s standing but it’s short lived when hobie is making his way back to the door to put his shoes on.
“i’m gonna go because i’m sure you want to process that and get your space and whatever else, yeah? but don’t worry, i’ll answer your texts and your calls.” he does feel bad, as if he’s fuck-and-dashing you but in reality, if he doesn’t get out of here, he’ll be too tempted to try and actually fuck you. “i’ll be back tomorrow to walk you to class, doll.”
you’re speechless as you watch him gather himself to leave, grateful for the space because you could probably explode right now. you also miss your panties just barely peeking out of his pocket.
“and feel free me to ask me again if you ever need my help.” and with that, he’s gone with a soft click of your door.
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