Heyaaa, can you please write adultToph×fem!reader wife headcanons? :)))))
⸝⸝ Aged Up!Toph x Fem!Wife!Reader ⸝⸝
A/N: muehehehe I love how you think. My brain was at 1% (finals got me in a chokehold) before I saw this, but now I'm fully powered by the sheer vision of adult Toph being the absolute menace as your wife
Growing up doesn't mean Toph Beifong "softened"
it just means she got better at hiding her soft spots behind layers of rock and sarcasm. Being married to the Greatest Earthbender in the World means your life is loud, messy, and full of literal tremors.
Your Dynamic
Earth-Sensing Intuition: She doesn't need to see your face to know you’re upset. She feels the way your heart rate kicks up or how you’re shifting your weight from foot to foot.
The "Metal" Wedding Ring: Toph isn't a silver or diamond person. She forged your wedding bands herself out of the spare meteor metal. She likes to keep hers slightly magnetized so she can "find" you in a crowded room just by sensing the pull of the metal on your finger.
The Beifong Household: The floor of your house is definitely made of marble and stone. Toph "remodels" whenever she’s bored or grumpy. One day you have a pantry, the next day she’s decided the kitchen needs an open-concept layout and just sinks the wall into the floor.
Public vs. Private: In public, she’s Chief Beifong—tough, stoic, and ready to throw a boulder at anyone who looks at her wrong. At home, she’s a total "deadweight" snuggler. She will lean her entire body weight against you while you’re cooking or reading, claiming she just wants to be closer to you.
Toph isn't exactly a morning person. She usually wakes up before you because she can feel the city of Republic City starting to vibrate as people get out of bed, but she’ll stay under the covers until you move.
You’re trying to be sneaky. You really are. You slide out from under the heavy duvet, careful not to let the floorboards creak—not that it matters, because she can feel your warmth leaving your side of the bed.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Her voice is gravelly and thick with sleep. Your feet haven't even touched the floor yet. You sigh, looking back at the mess of dark hair sticking out from the pillows.
"I was going to make tea, Toph. And maybe breakfast before you start complaining that you're starving."
A pale hand reaches out from the blankets, grabbing your wrist with pinpoint accuracy. She yanks you back down, and before you can protest, she’s wrapped her arms around your waist like a vine. She buries her face in the crook of your neck, huffing a warm breath against your skin.
"Tea can wait. The floor is cold and you’re warm. Stay put."
You laugh, running your fingers through her messy hair. "You know, for the toughest woman in the world, you’re awfully clingy and it's not even 6 am."
"Shut up," she mumbles, already drifting back to sleep. "I’m the Chief. I do what I want."
Toph takes her job very seriously, even if she acts like it’s a total drag. Some days she comes home covered in bruises and bad attitude.
The front door doesn't just open; it thuds against the wall. You hear the heavy clomp-clomp of her boots—she’s not even trying to walk lightly, which means she’s annoyed.
"I hate politicians," she bellows, kicking her boots off into the corner. "I hate the council, I hate paperwork, and I especially hate people who think they can lie to me when I can literally feel their toes twitching."
You walk into the hallway, leaning against the doorframe with a wet towel in your hand. "Bad day at the office, Chief?"
Toph stops mid-sentence. She "looks" at you—that sightless, unblinking gaze that still feels like she’s reading your soul. Her shoulders drop about three inches. She stomps over to you, but instead of a rant, she just puts her forehead against your shoulder.
"My head hurts. Everything is too loud today."
You lead her to the sofa, letting her sit between your legs while you use the damp cloth to wipe the dust and grime off her face. She complains for a second about you "mothering" her, but then she leans into your touch, her eyes closing.
"Better?" you ask.
She grabs your hand, giving it a quick, firm squeeze—her version of a thank you. "Yeah. Don't tell anyone I let you do this, or I'll have to bury you in the backyard."
Toph knows you can handle yourself, but that doesn't stop her from being incredibly territorial.
You’re at a high-end gala for some charity event. You’re wearing a dress that’s way too fancy, and Toph is in her formal metalbending police uniform, looking like she wants to punch the buffet table.
Some slick businessman is cornering you, trying to pitch some investment while leaning a little too close into your personal space. You’re being polite, but you’re clearly uncomfortable.
Suddenly, the floor underneath the guy’s feet shifts. It’s subtle—just a half-inch tilt—but it’s enough to make him stumble back.
A heavy hand lands on your waist, pulling you flush against a metal-plated side. Toph is standing there, a smirk on her face that looks more like a dare.
"Is this guy bothering you, honey?" she asks. She doesn't even look at him. She just stares straight ahead, looking imposing as hell.
"I was just—" the guy starts.
"You were just leaving," Toph interrupts. She taps her foot on the marble floor. A tiny shockwave sends the guy’s drink splashing all over his expensive silk tie. "Oops. Guess I'm a little clumsy tonight. Better go get that cleaned up."
As he scurries away, you turn to her, raising an eyebrow. "Clumsy, Toph? Really?"
She chuckles, sliding her arm further around you. "Hey, I didn't see him there. Give a blind girl a break. Now let’s get out of here and get some real food. I’m tired of eating tiny crackers that taste like dirt."
Even after years of marriage, there are moments where the difference in how you perceive the world creates something beautiful.
You’re sitting on the porch of your vacation home in the Earth Kingdom. The sun is setting, painting the sky in deep purples and oranges. It’s breathtaking.
Toph is sitting on the steps, her bare feet pressed firmly against the soil. She’s quiet, just listening to the wind in the trees.
"What's it look like?" she asks suddenly. It’s rare for her to ask. Usually, she doesn't care about what she’s "missing."
You sit down next to her, shoulder to shoulder. "It’s bright," you describe softly. "The clouds look like they’ve been dipped in gold, and the sky near the horizon is the same color as the hibiscus flowers you brought home last week. It’s... peaceful."
Toph is silent for a moment. Then, she takes your hand and places it flat on the ground.
"Close your eyes," she commands.
You do.
"Now, don't just feel the dirt. Feel the heartbeat of the forest. There’s a badger-mole about two miles under us, digging a new tunnel. There’s a stream hitting the rocks over the hill—you can feel the rhythm, right? Thump-splash, thump-splash. And there’s you. Your heart is steady. You’re calm."
For a second, through her guidance, the world feels solid and connected in a way you’ve never known. You aren't seeing the colors, but you’re feeling the life.
She leans her head on your shoulder and you two bask in the peace.
⤿ JASON TODD may be the worst nightmare of those who cross him, but a call from you means he's home in five minutes with a soft voice and gentle hands.
!! fluff. domestic slice of life. established relationship. jason todd showing his duality of man. fem reader. mentions of reader on her period. you're all disgustingly in love. im obsessed with domestic jason todd.
♯┆ 𝟎.𝟏 mlist. 𝟎.𝟐 bat boys collection. 𝟎.𝟑 dc collection.
The warehouse was already a mess.. gunpowder choking the air, splintered crates spilling weapons across the concrete floor, and the shouts of men ricocheting against steel beams. Jason had just slammed one guy into the wall hard enough to rattle his teeth when the vibration in his pocket cut through the chaos.
He almost ignored it. Almost. But out of concern that it was Bruce or one of his brothers, he pulled it out with one gloved hand, only to see a picture of you and him lighting up his cracked screen.
Immediately he yanked the phone up to his ear, and started firing blind with the other to keep three men pinned down behind a forklift. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said, a little breathless, ducking as a bullet clipped the crate near his head. “Bit of a rough time for me. Can I-... ”
“Jay?” Your voice cracked on his name, small and wet with tears, and it stopped him dead cold. The rest of the sentence died on his tongue.
His stomach dropped. “I’m here,” he softened his voice immediately, pressing the phone tight to his ear. “Talk to me, baby. What’s wrong?”
There was a pause, shaky breaths filtering through, and then you managed, “Jay.. when are you coming home?”
"Fuck me.." Jason swore under his breath, snapping his gun up and taking a shot that knocked the weapon clean from an enemy’s hand. He was moving again, crouching behind a pillar, but his entire focus tunneled in on the voice in his ear. “I’m on my way soon. What’s going on? Are you hurt?”
“No, I just…” Your voice wavered, and then he heard the muffled sob, raw and tired. “My stomach hurts so bad, and I ruined another pair of pajamas, and my head hurts, and everything feels useless.. and I just-... I can’t stop crying and I hate this and I just want you home.”
Something sharp and hot tore through him. His jaw clenched, fury not at you but at the universe itself, at the fact that you were sitting there hurting while he was wasting time with scum who didn’t matter.
“Baby,” Jason said, voice dropping into something low and certain even as gunfire erupted again. “I’m coming home right now. Don’t move, don’t worry about anything. I’ll take care of you.”
One of the thugs tried to rush him then. Jason pivoted smoothly, grabbing the guy by the collar and slamming his head into a steel beam hard enough to drop him like a sack of bricks. “You hear me?” he asked into the phone, catching it as it slipped from his helmet... his only option to hold it with his non-dominant hand now. He was already reaching for his knife with his free hand. “I’m on my way. Five minutes.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt-..” you tried, voice cracking. You didn't like calling Jason when you knew he was on patrol or working with the team, but you didn't want to call anyone else because you needed him now.
“Interrupt?” Jason barked out a humorless laugh, driving the blade into the thigh of another man before kicking him back. “You think these shitbags are more important than you? Not a chance, baby girl. You call, I answer. Always.”
There was a little sniffle on your end, and Jason’s chest tightened. He shoved his gun back into its holster, switching to his fists. He needed to end this fast, and reloading was taking too much time.
“I’ll be home before you know it,” he promised, hooking an enemy’s arm and snapping it clean in the wrong direction. The guy screamed, but Jason didn’t even look at him, his whole tone softened back into that voice he only used with you. “Put the kettle on if you want, or just stay curled up. I’ll handle the rest when I get there.”
Another thug charged, yelling something incoherent. Jason dropped the phone to his shoulder, holding it pinned with his jaw while he ducked the swing, slammed his elbow into the man’s ribs, and sent him sprawling. “Still with me, baby?” he asked, gritting his teeth as he flipped another.
“Mhm,” you whimpered, quiet. “Just hurry, Jay.”
Jason’s vision went red. “Already done,” he muttered, and ended the fight in a blur of fists and bone.
By the time he jogged out of the warehouse, helmet tucked under his arm and phone back to his ear, his voice was calm again, low and sure, the way he knew you needed. “I’m on the bike now, baby. Two minutes. Just breathe for me until I’m there.”
When he threw the apartment window open, the adrenaline was still sharp in his blood, but it quieted the second his eyes found you.
You were curled on the couch, knees hugged to your chest, blanket wrapped haphazardly around your shoulders. The soft lamplight made your face look paler than usual, your eyes red-rimmed, your expression weary. You looked up at him the moment he stepped inside, and your lips trembled when you whispered, “Jay.”
The helmet clattered onto the table as he dropped it, crossing the room in two strides. He crouched in front of you, cupping your face in his hands, his gloves still on but his hands gentle.
“Hey,” he said softly, his voice stripped of the edge it carried outside. “I’m here. I’m here, baby.”
The moment you leaned forward, burying your face in his chest, his arms locked around you with an instinct that was bone-deep. He held you as if the world could collapse at any second and he’d still keep you upright. The smell of leather and gunpowder clung to him, but beneath it was the steady warmth of Jason himself, his heartbeat strong under your ear and your shoulders instantly sagged while you held onto him.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice muffled. “I didn’t mean to pull you away from work.”
“Don’t.” Jason cut in firmly, tilting your chin up until your watery eyes met his. His gaze was steady, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Don’t you ever apologize for calling me. I don’t care if I’m mid-fight, I don’t care if the damn sky’s falling.. if you need me, I’m there. Got it.”
Your throat tightened, but you nodded, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead before easing onto the couch beside you. He didn’t let go, just adjusted so you were tucked against him, your head resting on his chest, his arm snug around your shoulders.
“Alright,” he murmured, softer now. “What do you need? Heating pad? Tea? Chocolate? All of the above?”
You let out a little, but earnest, laugh against him, which was exactly what he’d been aiming for. “You don’t have to get me anything...”
“Yes, I do.” He kissed your temple, then shifted to stand, prying himself away despite the way you clung to him. “Five minutes. Don’t move.”
You looked up to him with glassy eyes and nodded, pulling him back down to give him a gentle kiss which he returned with fervor. A small smile came to your face when he lingered against your lips.
He moved into the kitchen with the same determination he carried on the streets, only this time his enemies were cabinet doors and the goddamn tea kettle that never boiled fast enough. He fumbled with the heating pad, muttering curses under his breath when the cord tangled, and nearly burned his hand on the mug because he refused to wait long enough for it to cool.
When he returned, he set the mug carefully on the coffee table, then plugged in the heating pad and eased it against your stomach as he sat back down besides you and pulled you to use him against his broad frame. His big hand covered the pad, pressing it into place as if to anchor it there, and his lips pressed a kiss against your temple.
“Better?” he asked, watching your face closely for any sign that you needed more.
You nodded, leaning into him, and the tension in his shoulders eased. He stayed quiet for a while, just holding you, the weight of his hand moving in slow circles over the heating pad.
Eventually, your hand came to rest over top of his causing a frown to tug at your lips when the marks on his knuckles became apparent to you. Your fingers gently traced over them as if you could absorb his own pain and discomfort.
“You got here so fast.” You whispered, tilting your head further into his shoulder so your tired eyes could meet his.
Jason huffed a laugh, dropping his head back against the couch. “Baby, you don’t know what kind of record I set tonight. Guys probably think I’m possessed the way I cleared that fight.”
You smiled faintly, eyes slipping shut. “All for me?”
“Every time,” he said simply, as if it was the most obvious fact in the world.
Later, when he finally coaxed you into bed, Jason insisted on staying pressed against you, still smelling faintly of smoke and blood despite only wearing his boxers since he didn't want to waste time changing, but didn't want to make you dirty. He lay on his side, one arm under your head, the other draped protectively over your waist, his hand warm against your stomach.
You shifted slightly, wincing, and he rubbed your side in slow, steady circles. “Hate seeing you like this,” he muttered.
“It’s just part of it,” you murmured. “Comes and goes. It's just rough when it comes...”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he said, pressing a kiss to your head. Then, after a pause, his voice dipped into something softer, but teasing. “But I’ll admit, you’re kinda cute when you call me crying. Never thought I’d hear the Red Hood drop everything over cramps.”
You smacked his chest lightly, but your laugh was real this time, and Jason grinned into your hair. “Shut up.”
“Never,” he said, kissing the edge of your jaw. “Not when I’ve got you here. Not when I get to be the one you call.”
You curled closer, the ache in your stomach dulled by his warmth, and for the first time all day you felt like you could breathe.
Jason stayed awake long after you drifted off, his hand still resting protectively over your stomach, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours. Outside, the city raged on, but in this bed, in this moment, it didn’t matter.
Because when you needed him, he was home in the blink of an eye.
ᝰ.ᐟ edawgz 2025.
𝟎.𝟏 mlist. 𝟎.𝟐 bat boys collection. 𝟎.𝟑 dc collection.
I was and still am daydreaming about some scenarios with our dear pathetic yandere husband. (･ω･ )
(I love him so damn much it's not even funny)
We women have our unpleasant strawberry week every month. How's our husband holding up? Is he frustrated? Does he perhaps... support us?
(wink wink)
🍓~
I unfortunately, anon, may have a freakier answer than you're hoping for.
Yan! Husband is so clearly depraved when it comes to his wife. He isn't afraid to steal your used garments, old tissue paper, broken fingernails; eventually he stopped asking himself why he does these things, and its become second nature. So it is no surprise that it has crossed his mind when that time of month comes, what else he can steal and admire without you noticing.
Yan! Husband is more than willing to satisfy you in any manner, your hesitancies doing little to persuade him as he starts to view this as a new way for him to experience all of you.
But he'll settle for your wishes-- biting the sheets to keep his moans at bay while you sleep, avoiding from touching, merely rubbing himself on you. But he is anything if not determined, and quickly gets a bright idea that comes from one innocent lap sit, shifting you to ride his thigh. Of course he'd prefer without the clothes, but the friction is just right, and its one of the few ways he can pleasure you without a frustrated swat at his hand.
Yan! Husband doesn't care if you start with the 'I'm too heavy," or questions about bleeding through. None of it matters when the soft pull of your hips is finally between his hands after days of your stinginess, the strain of his clothed crotch as your palm rubs fast circles on his warm erection. He takes extra care to dot kisses down your neck, whispering words of how lucky he is, how beautiful you look when you're on top of him, trying to ease that emotional temperment he can see almost spilling over.
And of course, Yan! Husband has tried to slip his hand between your legs on more than one occasion as you grind against him, deciding that eventually you'll grow needy enough to let him devour you like he deserves.
TW: Oral, Sex positions, Quickies, Public sex, Descriptions of Cum, slight Body Worshipping, F!Reader, NOT proofread
A/N: Thanks for the request! Hey guys.... gulp. Sorry I've been gone! School is crazy. ❤︎ ya!
༊*·˚ We all know it… HES A MUNCH!!
༊*·˚ And he sucks hard, too. He’d never want to cause too much displeasure, but sometimes it can’t be avoided
༊*·˚ Ugh but when you ride his face?? Jackpot.
༊*·˚ Hoove also loves to swing your legs over his shoulder pads. Whether it’s for oral or actual sex, he just loves the way you look. Helpless almost.
༊*·˚ And he drags his stubble across your thigh to tease you. Hoove loves making you squirm!!
༊*·˚ I feel like 69ing would also be big for him. Thighs wrapped around his head as he thrusts his hips into your mouth?? Dream date.
༊*·˚ Omg and he has such toned abs YUMMM.
༊*·˚ Hoove will take ahold of your hips and grind you on them, he loves to watch your slick coat his stomach.
༊*·˚ His cum is THICK. Like, hard to swallow thick.
༊*·˚ And quickes are totally on the table. Hoove is always so busy with work, it’s hard to get some proper alone time with him.
༊*·˚ And he loves to take you into the bathroom stalls during a Hankees game…
༊*·˚ And unfortunately, Hoove is like always overwhelmed with work. Fortunately, you allow him to take it out on you in the bedroom.
༊*·˚ Oh, and he loves when you take care of him. Hoove definitely deserves a spa day, so when you get on your knees, eyes wide and begging as you paw at his bulge, he’ll lean back and smile.
༊*·˚ Hoove would 100% test you on your Hankees knowledge. For every question you get right, he’ll reward you.
༊*·˚ His kisses are gentle and sweet, and he tastes like sugar. He adores every inch of your body, and will make sure you know it.
Hear me out, but like... Fingering aroras neckussy thingy on ottos neck... Mmmmm...
By starlight I'll kiss you.
Otto & Arora Kress x Fem! Afab! Reader smut
Summary: Getting salvation from your (pleasureable) punishment is difficult, but thankfully, you get a quick way to finish it.
Content warnings: vag!nial fingering (reader giving/receiving & Arora receiving), afab reader, sub reader, dom Otto & Arora, overst!mulation, smut (obviously), highkey bad smut, no use of Y/n, Otto & Arora's weird anatomy, !ncestuous themes (Otto & Arora exclusive).
Word count: 1.1k
A/N: The concept of f!ngering someone's neckussy.
AI was not used for the writing, please do not use any of this for AI
Please read all warnings!!! I have no real rules about reading this sort of content, just know that if you read it fully/like it/reblog it, that it's on you.
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“Oh-oh god, please!” You sob, looking down at Otto’s ungloved hand that was set between your legs. How fun punishment was. Tilting your head back, you caught a glimpse of his discarded gold rings set neatly beside his black glove. Your jaw was hastily turned back to the two via a purple gloved hand, holding you tightly. The action managed to take your attention away from the aching between your legs for a split second.
Your pleas were ignored as Arora forced you to stay still, allowing Otto’s fingers to continue their assault on your g-spot. A mewl was pulled from your lips as the squelching noise persisted. “Please? You’re begging for nothing at all!” Arora mocked, turned to watch your torture. She was right, you were begging for nothing but that was your fault. You were too greedy, so they had to punish you for it. Now, you were held in front of the two, nude, and one knee supported on their chair with the other trembling as they forced you to cum over and over.
“I- I can’t! It’s too much!” You babble before tensing and falling over onto Otto’s shoulder, your own gratification dripping down your thigh as you came for the fourth time that night. Waves of pleasure ripped through your body, causing you to tremble and whimper.
Your recovery was short lived as Otto continued his assault on your already sensitive cunt, putting more effort into pressing against the sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside you. His hand was bent perfectly to allow your cum to drip down his fingers and into the shallow indent in his palm. Your inner thighs shined with your past release and even when you had hoped to stay clean and composed (especially with the position you were in now), some of it had dripped onto Otto’s pants leg. Caught up in your own pleasure, you could barely make out Arora muttering to Otto about his coat sleeve possibly getting dirty, which he quickly dismissed and turned his attention back to you.
“Well, if you couldn’t handle our love, then you shouldn’t have been greedy, dear,” Otto remarked, shifting his fingers to move deeper inside you, causing you to shudder and groan. Though you were already accustomed to the foreign movements inside of you, the newfound stretch and sensitivity didn’t help your sobs.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry- please!” You plead between gasps, your bare chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. A gloved hand trailed up your torso, finding a hold on your breast. Your jumbled mind was barely able to register the clothed digits tracing the skin of your chest, traveling from underneath your breast and ribs to your budding nipple. Otto’s pointer and thumb pinched and rolled the hardened nipple before his hand moved higher.
Arora leaned down next to Otto’s ear, whispering something that you couldn’t hear over your own moans. Their small interaction lasted (what felt like) less than a second and Arora pulled away with a slightly smug look on her face. Thankfully, the information wasn’t held from you for long.
“If you want it to end, you’ll have to help her,” he said softly, taking your hand and bringing it behind his right ear. You, as though in a trance, carefully pressed your fingers into Arora’s already wet cunt. She, in turn, let out a soft moan and tensed. You hesitated for a second, hoping that you wouldn’t hurt her.
Your hesitancy didn’t last long, and you were rather quick to start pleasuring her, whether it was because you felt it was necessary or because you wanted their torture on your pussy to end didn’t matter. Arora’s signs of enjoyment began promptly; soft groans filled the quiet your moans couldn’t reach.
You could only guess that this was heaven for Otto, being able to see the two of you getting off on this, even when he wasn’t physically getting any pleasure from it. Arora’s head had turned down, letting out the occasional shaky breath that filled the gaps between her own mewls of ecstasy.
As you picked up the pace, so did Otto, rubbing small circles into your clit. It was as if he was trying to get you to give up on your little mission and let him torture you longer. Your own hand faltered again, your inner thighs tensing. “Sl-slow down,” you slurred, moving your free hand to grip onto Otto’s sleeve.
“You’ve been able to handle this, don’t let it stop you now, my love,” Otto grinned, holding onto your hip to make sure you wouldn’t try closing your legs. As if it was a challenge, you sped up again, pressing your thumb against Arora’s clit, causing her breath to hitch. Her hand that had been used to hold you in place, now wavering as gratification seemed to take hold of her. Eventually, her (now loosened) hold left your face and laid against Otto’s arm, holding onto the fabric of his coat as you did now.
As you struggle against Otto’s punishment and your “assignment” for Arora, you forced yourself to push harder for it to end. Your own delirium didn’t let you react fully to pressing your fingertips against Arora’s g-spot; her sudden cry was the only thing letting you know you found something good.
You could almost feel Otto’s smugness, as if it was a sweet scent that flowed through the air. He didn’t make many noises outside of the occasional hum of approval and the only physical signs of enjoyment were through a smug look on his face and the tent in his pants. Even with the praise, you knew he found some form of enjoyment in punishing you and watching you get Arora off.
Arora finally let out a cry and gripped onto Otto’s sleeve, her cunt pulsing around your fingers followed by a slow stream of white cum dribbling down your palm and dripping onto Otto’s shirt collar. She curled over herself, her breath heavy as she tried to recover. It was as though Arora’s orgasm triggered your own with the coil in your lower stomach finally snapping, getting you to your own end. You, too, curled over yourself, resting your head on Otto’s left shoulder.
Once she had caught her breath, Arora gently tapped Otto’s arm, causing him to pause his fingers inside you. Your fingers carefully were removed from Arora’s pussy, holding onto Otto’s shirt collar instead. In your dream-like state, you shakily supported yourself against his chair, trying to bring yourself back to reality but failing. The praise Otto gave you fell on deaf ears as he carefully removed his fingers from your pussy, which you managed to catch sight of the aftermath, seeing the sheen of cum that had gradually covered his palm.
With a look of satisfaction, Otto finally spoke. “Hopefully, you learned your lesson, my love.”
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Thank you for requesting!!! I'm sorry it took a hot minute; I was busy with life and procrastination lmao. Weirdly enough, this was supposed to be a lot shorter, but I got carried away.
For @whitewineandpizzapuffs ! Thank you for the support and please enjoy <3<3
Ace x F!Reader
SFW
WC: 729
“I need to get away from this ship for a bit,” You said, putting hands on Ace’s shoulders as he leaned back on his chair, almost tipping over if not for you. “Yeah?”
You nodded and pushed him back to sitting, the chair making a thud on the floor before you wrapped your arms around him, resting your chin on his head and sighed. “I just need to get away from all the, ya know… men.” You huffed into his hair and heard him laugh at that. “Getting too much testosterone in the air, huh?” he teased playfully.
“I can just go on my own,” you tried to pull your arms away, but Ace whined and grabbed you. “Aw, come on, don’t leave me.” You rolled your eyes at the whiny tone as he pawed at your arms. He acted like you were dating sometimes, not that you minded. You pushed those thoughts aside. You didn’t need to focus on your crush right now; you just needed a break from the ship.
–
Taking the striker to a small island, you gripped the picnic basket for dear life as the small fire-powered boat shot across the waves, skimming over the surface. The wind in your hair and against your face felt nice. Ace would get you both there safely; you were just still getting used to going from the stable footing on the Moby to being rocked around.
Ace helped to pry you from the striker's mast. Taking his hand, you let him help you off and onto the sand. You signed and took a breath as Ace grabbed the basket and headed to the shady area under the palm trees.
This island was smaller than it looked on the map, but that meant it was all yours, just the two of you. You watched Ace set out the picnic blanket before he kicked off his heavy boots, flopping down and letting out a pleased sound as he wiggled his toes. You tossed your backpack to the ground and joined him.
“This is nice; I already feel so much better,” you said as you rummaged in your bag for a sketchbook and pens. Ace’s face lit up when he saw the marker pens. You got comfy against him, reaching into the picnic basket, getting out a bottle of soda, popping it open, and taking a swig.
You quirked an eyebrow when Ace arranged your leg across his lap, a blue pen in his hand. You watched him uncap the pen and start to colour in one of your many tattoos. Your arms and legs were covered in lots of black line work, and you’d never considered you’d make the perfect coloring book.
Watching Ace focus on your leg, gently colouring in one of your tattoos, how his nose scrunched and the tip of his tongue stuck out as he focused on his work. He finished with the blue and then switched to green. You laughed out, and he blinked up at you. “Sorry, it tickles,” you said with a giggle.
Ace couldn’t help himself, smiling at hearing the giggle as his heart fluttered. The sound of you happy was everything to him, even if it was just you being ticklish. “I didn’t mean to, for once,” he said as his smile turned into a cheeky smirk. “Sure, I believe you,” you poked your tongue out at him and started to sketch as he went back to coloring.
This was exactly what you needed: time away from the busy ship, a small tropical paradise, and spending time with your best friend. The sun started to set, and you’d curled against Ace as you watched the sky change above.
“I think you made me look pretty, Ace.” You said, stretching out your arms and legs and looking at all the colours he’d added to your tattoos. “Nah, you're already pretty. I just added a little something.” Ace said giving you a wink.
Both of you suddenly felt warm, cheeks dusted with pink at his comment. “M-maybe I should get these coloured for real,” you mumbled, looking at your skin. “Yeah, you should,” he added, looking away.
“Wanna head back?” he asked, going to stand before you stopped him. “Just a little longer?” you asked, a gentle plead in your voice, and he nodded, getting comfy next to you. “Thank you, Ace.”
(This turned out to be a heck of a lot longer than expected, so, part one of two - also cut for length.)
NSFW musings turned fic. Features Realized Volt x Eddie(pt2) x Reader(F) with inclusion of; wet clothing, mention of voyeurism, light themes of teasing & denial, themes of training, praise, care & a service top/dom. All consensual within an established relationship.
Essentially themed care giving.
Frustration took the form of a hot shower, and fingers circling a repeated motion at a point of pleasure. So far, the week was proving to be taxing, and the aggravations of customer service prompted a need for a little break and an effort towards self-care. Some, self-service.
Comforting scenarios often derailed into silent shower arguments, and a long sigh melded with the steam fogging the room. Chaotic thoughts, and the heavy mist obscured the arrival of a momentary voyeur. She couldn’t tell how long he might have been there, witnessing the tired hums of dissatisfied sighs. Nor the pitiful rocking of hips against her fingers, in the futile effort to convince her own body to play.
She noticed only when his arms had pressed against the tiled wall, either side of her, and soft, full lips spoke against her ear.
“Looks like you could use some help, live wire.”
His voice carried deep. Deliberate. Taking its time with each word so as to capture her attention completely. He chuckled at the sharp intake of breath, and responded to the single, confirming nod she gave him, by bringing his arms and body in closer to her.
“Your suit…”
“Will wash,” he purred, running his fingertips along her ribs, down along her torso to her thigh. Slow, intentional. Working for her attention. The fabric on his jacket, soaking beneath the shower’s rain, clung to him, framing the shape of hidden muscle and powerful shoulders.
“You are concerning yourself with the wrong things, little spark.”
Her fingers lifted to feel along his now wet shirt, which was becoming increasingly transparent where it stuck to his skin. Her busy mind tore between the practical workload of life, and, now needing to clean up the bathroom floor once Volt left, and the sight and smell of this handsome lover before her.
His fingers lifted from her thigh, placing ever so softly beneath her chin, coaxing her head to rise. His eyes were brilliant, electric blue. Holding all the intensity and strength of a storm. And they focused entirely on her, sending a shiver down her spine.
“Allow me to entertain your mind for a little while. Give yourself to me, and I shall guide you to where you need to be.”
She swallowed. His presence difficult to ignore or overlook.
“Can you do that for me? Will you trust me?”
A fluttering sensation rose within her chest, and she answered truthfully.
“I trust you dear heart…”
His lips curled into a grateful, confident smile. His eyelids lowering into a look which suggested he was going to enjoy whatever game he had in mind.
“Good, little spark. Now, breath in. Deeply.”
As she did so, she could feel his broad chest expand too. She held for as long as he did, falling into whatever rhythm or tempo he chose for them, releasing a long, steady breath as he did, then, inhaling when he commanded a simple;
“Again.”
He drew her hands to his core, one of her favoured places to touch him, be it initiation of contact for a hug, or to trace down the muscular line of his abdomen.
“From here.”
Another deep breath, from that very core. She breathed in, palms splayed against him. His shirt felt smooth against his skin. Clinging to him in a way that left just enough to the imagination to captivate. The fabric was firm, yet pliable beneath her fingertips, and she felt that it might be rather satisfying to peel away those layers.
Water ran down his figure differently clothed. Most of it pooling around bare feet before draining away, while some collected in little folds of fabric, tempting her to dab her fingers against them. He permitted her exploration, breathing becoming less of a conscious effort, and more a steady, natural rhythm. He felt as her shoulders slowly released some of the tension held within them, and spoke in low, gentle tones simply to keep her mind from straying away from any thought that wasn’t him.
Her hands roamed, finding the tightest stetch of his shirt, and one of the nipples beneath. Her finger circled the mound invoking a pleasurable hum from him, followed by his own hands reaching up to finally halt her motions.
“Pleasant as that is, live wire, this is about you.”
So saying his weight shifted, the cold tiles meeting her back while his thigh settled itself between her legs. He held her hands against the wall and looked down between them.
“Move your hips.” His whisper carried a soft, yet powerful command. “As you did before.”
A flush graced her cheeks, and she tested his grip on her wrists. Squirming, and tugging slightly. He responded by lifting his thigh a little higher so that her movements naturally rubbed against him, chuckling at the involuntary moan. His hold was firm and unmoving to anything other than her voice. But she did not speak. Only bit on her lip, as her pelvis slid forwards, then back against the offered relief.
She continued. Eyes drifting closed, wondering when such sensitivity had returned to her stressed and numbed form. The wet fabric of his suit trousers offered a pleasing amount of friction, while the strong muscle of a dancer offered her a satisfying saddle.
“You do move beautifully,” he commented, appreciating the view before him. “And your sounds are tantalizing. Don’t hold them in..”
A hum, and a breathy sigh aired for his appreciation, her body finding its preferred pattern of movement against him until she could feel herself opening up to crave more.
“Do you like this?”
“I like this…”
“Do you like me?”
Her eyes opened lazily, searching through the fog for that handsome face and playful eyes. He knew the answer, but she could practically hear the truth of his question in his voice. ‘It’s so much more enjoyable when I hear you say it.’
“I love you.”
That smile could light up a million skylines.
“I want…”
“Want?”
She hesitated, lost in his features for a moment.
“You know you need only ask, live wire.”
“.. more,” she managed to speak around a sharp inhale. “I want more of you.”
“Well then, if that’s the case, you best help me in removing these.”
Releasing her hands, he freed her to roam back to his layers of sodden clothing. The suit hung at weighted angles where it didn’t hug to his body. His stark white hair stood out against the black of his jacket, and, she blushed, marks ran along his thigh where her clit had been stroking against him. His gaze followed hers, before raising to meet her eyes, an eyebrow lifting and a confident smirk in place.
Each item of his attire was heavier than expected, but she’d been right. Peeling each piece of the suit from his body was satisfying to her senses. She took her time, even though he kept her from touching him overly long. When questioned, he simply answered;
“My dearests first.”
Dearests?
Conversation ended with his lips pressing against her own. Even realized, she could swear she still felt the electricity coursing through her with his kisses. He took his time, and her breath away. Exploring her mouth, once again running his fingertips along her ribs, down along her torso to her thigh. This time she shivered, her body calmer and ready for the touch. Her energy closer to where he wanted it to be.
He pulled back, and she felt the cold air creep along her body to replace his warmth. A confused pout followed in his wake only to be met with a soft laugh. A towel lifted up and forwards, beckoning her to abandon the shower turned steam room, and join him in moving towards the bedroom.
i wanted to know if you could base it following your “Seeking The Truth” oneshot; where reader and seph find his real mother after searching for her and it leads to a reunion and hopefully spiritual healing for our man <3
i also wanted to add in a second request of him finally being stable enough to want to start a family with the reader after everything that went down.
i was hoping you can include breeding kink, dirty talk, and possessiveness with fluffy aftercare?
------
I’ll be completely honest… this request had me stumped for a while! I knew what direction I wanted to go in but it always seemed to fall flat. I have rewritten this countless times because I was not happy with the first couple of drafts - let’s just say my original idea was not interesting to read… at all! Hopefully this hits the mark!
As for your second request I will be writing and posting that separately. I have no way of tagging you, but you are more than welcome to send me an anonymous ask in relation to it.
Reader Warning: Depictions of violence
- Link To Seeking The Truth Part I -
Seeking The Truth Part II
Following the incident at Nibelheim you, Sephiroth and Zack had remained at the Shinra mansion in search of clues to Lucrecia Crescent’s whereabouts. Thankfully, within the dusty nooks and hidden spaces of the underground lab, she had left behind a series of notes detailing her research into Chaos and Omega.
The torn, yellowed pages threatened to disintegrate within your grasp as you carefully deciphered each piece of text. Amongst the information was mention of a hidden cave to the south of Nibelheim. It appeared that the location had originally been theorised as an emergence for Chaos.
‘Grasping at straws’ felt like an understatement. However with a culmination of hope and desperation, you were willing to hunt down answers any way you could.
———
That morning, before you had set out upon the journey, you noticed that Zack had been lingering beside the mansion gates. He captured your attention with a wave of his hand, pulling you to one side.
“I need to go find Genesis.” He said, resting his hand upon the hilt of his buster sword.
You nodded in response, understanding his intentions. Although the thought of parting ways with him pained you considerably, you knew that down the line, it was the right decision.
Aqua eyes met your own. He placed a hand upon your shoulder and his brows furrowed into a worried slant. “—You gonna be alright without me?”
Initially you were unsure if his concern was aimed solely upon the fact that Shinra would be hell-bent on tracking you down. However his pointed expression was a dead giveaway to his true reason for uncertainty. Sephiroth’s mentality. You would be lying if you said the doubting thoughts hadn’t crossed your mind. You had been keeping a close eye upon him, noting nothing out of the ordinary, bar a few minor headaches. He also appeared quieter, more detached than usual—but that was understandable.
“Don’t worry Zack, I’ll be fine. Someone needs to go back for Genesis.”
“I figured if we were able to change Sephiroth then maybe… there might be a way to help him too.” His shoulders tightened as he lifted the heavy weight of the sword onto his back. “You do realise Shinra will be gunning for us now right?”
“Yeah, figures…” You sighed. “Seems to be their general response for deserters.”
Zack plucked his fingers through his tousled hair, the hint of a wicked grin appearing upon his features. “The price of freedom is steep! Huh, what have we got ourselves into?”
You smiled at his obvious attempt at lightening the mood. With the sudden upsetting thought that you may never get to see him again, you threw your arms around his shoulders. He returned your hug and added, “I don’t know what you’re going to find at that cave but please—please be careful.”
After you both said your goodbyes and parted ways with your friend, you and Sephiroth set out on your journey.
———
The passing hours proceeded in brisk silence with Sephiroth appearing distant and uncommunicative. It felt like an eternity of trudging through open fields and grasslands. Your aching legs barked as the grinding pressure upon your feet became too much to endure. Noticing your slowed pace and heavy steps Sephiroth suggested stopping for a short rest. The forested area you had arrived at was abundant with high trees and shrubbery. It was sheltered enough to prevent an ambush from Shinra or prowling monsters. You settled down within a small clearing, nestled beside a running stream. Lifting the weight from your aching feet, you sat upon the mossy bark of a fallen oak. You sighed heavily with relief, the late afternoon sun filtering through the canopy of leaved branches, casting rays of heavenly light upon the flowing water’s surface. Blossoms filtered through the breeze, their pungently sweet scent tickling your nose. The air was crisp and the lush greenery was a refreshing change from the greyed, washed out colour palette of Midgar.
“Quite the difference from Midgar, don’t you think?” Sephiroth said, as if he had the ability to read your own thoughts.
You hummed in approval, heartened mostly by the fact that he had initiated a conversation. “You know… I could get used to this. The scenery, the calm, peace and quiet. Maybe someday we could settle down in a place like this?”
His shapely lips curved into a dreamy, bemused smile. “I can picture it now,” His eyes trailed upwards, appearing in deep thought. The green of his irises seemed to glow as they caught the light. “A quant little cottage, surrounded by fields and woods. A picturesque view of a mountainside within the distance, and beneath it a vast lake with a small rowing boat.”
“I’d want a garden with a cobblestone patio, a cushioned chair, fenced in by wild flowers and trees… where I’ll sit, read and drink copious amounts of tea.” You stopped to think as your imagination ran wild. “There’d be a stable nearby… home to two white chocobos.”
Sinking down onto the bark beside you, he indulged your fantasy further. “And what shall we call our two chocobos?”
“Hmmm… let me think…” You leaned back against the tree in thought. “The more docile and obedient one, I was thinking we’d call… Angeal.”
His smile widened at the sound of his friend’s name. A name that reminded him of better days and cherished memories.
“Then for the other—the feathered rascal—I think we’d call him…”
Sephiroth quickly interjected with, “Zack?”
You chuckled in agreement.
“It sounds perfect.” He replied, his sweetened tone caressing every fibre of your being.
His silver brows furrowed before he looped his strong, sturdy arms around your shoulders. Burying his face against your neck, he spoke, “I don’t deserve you.” His voice cracked with emotion. “All my life I’ve been living in darkness, but you—you are my light.”
“And you are mine.” You leaned back, grasping his hands within your own, softly running your thumbs over his palms. “We’re going to find your true mother, I promise. We’ll find out the truth together and never again will you have to live in darkness.”
———
You arrived at the bottom of an unstable path upon the edge of a grassy cliff side. Ahead of you stood the tall, foreboding entrance to the cave. Upon the outskirt, high grass moved like water as the last of the setting sun’s light shone down. Dusk’s orange hues gleamed brightly for a final time before you stepped foot into the gloomy passage.
The sweet melancholic sounds of a woman’s voice reverberated throughout the passageway. Further ahead the narrow hallway opened up into a massive area. It was unlike anything you had ever seen. A wide circular cave with crystal stalactites hanging from a domed ceiling. Gem formations punctuated the rocky walls and glimmered brightly as if caught by moonlight. Below you was a stretch of mirrored glass that echoed your brisk footsteps. With each step you felt your skin tingle from the permeation of foreign magic that occupied the grand expanse. There was a vast amount of reserved power that seemingly flowed throughout the geological structures.
Towards the far end of the spacious cavern stood a translucent wall encasing the body of what appeared to be a divine woman. She was undeniably beautiful, yet slightly intimidating. Maybe it was her detachment—her otherworldliness. Her hands rested delicately over her chest as if she were at peace. Her body appearing frozen, fixed in place. Her long lashes like brushes against her cheeks as her eyes remained shut. She wore a long, white, angelic gown and a sleek, translucent veil that cloaked her shoulders. Her skin was as white and pure as porcelain, her hair a rich shade of amber brown. It was evident that her imprisonment had shielded her from the clutch of time, preserving her fine youth and beauty.
Sephiroth extended his arm out, resting his palm against the crystallised surface. “—Mother?”
The room hummed with a euphonious voice in response. The vibration of sound shook throughout the cave, disturbing the debris and small shards of rock.
“How do we release her?” You asked, inwardly debating if it was wise to do so.
Sephiroth looked down at his blade, wrapping his fingers around the hilt. With a quick effortless flick of his wrist, he slashed at her entrapment. A quick succession of vertical flashes of light cutting through the air, slicing through the Mako crystal.
Amongst the glittering rubble, Lucrecia’s limp body fell forward liberated from her crystal cocoon. Sephiroth caught her within his arms, kneeling down to support her weight upon his knee. For a moment she appeared motionless. He brushed aside the stray strands of hair from upon her cheek and called out to her once more. Her eyes began to flutter, opening up to reveal a set of radiant, golden brown oceans.
“My… my son.” Her voice soft and harmonious. “I never got the chance to hold you after your birth… but now you’re here.” She lifted herself up steadily, to extend a delicate hand towards Sephiroth’s cheek. “How long I’ve waited for this moment.”
“Mother… I…”
She studied his face for a moment longer, “I’m so sorry!” Her arms quickly looped over his shoulders. “I made too many mistakes. This isn’t how things should have been. I never meant for—“ She shook her head, “I don’t deserve this. After all I’ve done.”
He looked at her like the words strongly resonated with him—like they had struck an empathetic chord.
He considered his words carefully “I’m just happy we’re together. I no longer wish to dwell upon the past.”
You heaved a sigh of relief, unsure as to how he would initially react or feel towards Lucrecia. He appeared at ease, possibly knowing the fact that his true mother was no monster—but a human being.
He gestured towards you, “Mother, this is (Y/N).”
You approached her, rattled with nerves at the thought of meeting his mother for the first time. “It’s lovely to meet you Lucrecia.”
She smiled, the light shying away from the elegant planes of her face. “Thank you (Y/N), for taking care of my son.”
You bowed your head, your shoulders tightening at the impending sense of dread within your mind. “I don’t want to appear rude, but you need to come with us. It’s not safe for us to stay here.”
“She’s right. Shinra may already know that we’re here.” Sephiroth explained, helping Lucrecia to her feet.
At the mention of Shinra, Lucrecia’s brows furrowed into a scornful look, but she nodded promptly. “Then we must leave.”
As if on cue, the crystal around you began to shake, and from the entrance of the cave came storming in an echelon of Shinra troops. It was only a matter of time until they caught up. No doubt pursuing your trail with the hidden agenda of finding Lucrecia’s hiding place.
You were now surrounded, the entrance blocked. Trapped in a crystal tomb.
———
“Ahh, a touching reunion.” Hojo stalked forward from the group of soldiers and infantrymen, slowly clapping his hands in a condescending manner. “I do apologise for intruding upon such a precious moment, however I have loose ends that need tying up—a trivial matter really.”
“You!” You felt as your blood boiled. Your body seething with each slimy step the Professor took. “What do you want?!” The animosity of your voice lingered upon its echo.
“As I mentioned previously—unfinished business. I can’t have this woman getting in the way of my precious research now can I?”
Lucrecia bared her teeth. “You’re a monster!”
“Oh I’m the monster?” Hojo laughed manically to himself. “Funny. Coming from a mother who made the decision to experiment on her unborn child!”
Lucrecia looked away in shame, unable to argue back.
“Enough!” Sephiroth’s bellowing voice echoed throughout the cave as he stepped forward.
“Step aside specimen, so I may deal with this wretch!” Hojo spat.
“I am not your specimen anymore! No longer will I live in darkness or let you snuff out the remaining light I have left!” Sephiroth held his ground, staring down at the old man a moment longer. His silent presence alone was enough to have half the infantry quaking in their boots.
Hojo spurned him with a putrid look. “How poetic… but I guess we’re now going to have to do this the hard way.”
With a sharp click of his fingers, two soldiers from the large group emerged, each holding what appeared to be oversized rail guns. A thunderous noise erupted as both weapons fired a barrage of electrified chains. Before Sephiroth was able to summon his blade, the hissing bonds were already clamped around his wrists, manoeuvring like snakes to wrap and ensnare the entirety of his body. He struggled against his shackles, yet the more strength he used, the tighter they would become, clamping down, crushing and tearing the leather of his clothing. He roared as the jagged chains lacerated and seared his skin.
You ran to his aid but stumbled back as infantrymen grabbed at your arms, restricting your movement. “Let go of me!” You struggled to escape their clutches, lashing out your fists in desperation. You cried out to him, “Sephiroth!” It was torturous to watch as he writhed and twisted in pain, unable to escape his binds.
Hojo stalked forward grabbing Lucrecia’s hair, pulling her head to one side to expose the paled flesh of her neck. She thrashed and wiggled with the small ounce of strength she had to escape his vile grip. He took out a large syringe from his lab coat pocket, removing the blunt cap with his teeth, and punctured the sharp needle into her skin. He proceeded to inject what looked like a neon blue serum. She cried out in agony, stumbling backwards to remove the syringe. She appeared weakened, her hands trembled and her eyes rolled backwards before she fell to the floor… her body lifeless.
“What have you done?!!” You cried.
“Now now… it’s just a little something I’ve been working on. Something to eradicate those pesky Jenova cells within her body. You see—“ He reached down the side of his belt, removing a firearm from its holster. “—any being that possesses these cells, cannot die.” He held the gun within his grasp, aiming it towards her. ”Let me give a demonstration.”
“NO!” Sephiroth yelled.
All time seemed to slow as he pulled at the trigger. A single bullet whipped through the air, trailing between them. The bullet pierced her abdomen; the wound soaking through the white fabric of her dress with a darkened shade of scarlet red.
Your heart roared with overwhelming grief as your legs became weightless. You plummeted to your knees from shock. “You fucking monster!” You screamed.
“Ah yes—speaking of monsters.” He turned to observe Sephiroth who was completely powerless beneath the immovable chains. “I want the specimen transported to my laboratory. Further tests are needed.”
The infantryman whose tightened fingers had been digging into the flesh of your arm spoke up, “But Sir, what about the girl?”
“Oh her.” Hojo’s voice was an uninterested mumble. “Dispose of her.” He turned his back to you, gesturing his hand in disregard.
“Don’t fucking touch her!” Sephiroth growled. You felt the coarseness of his voice tremble along your skin.
Sephiroth’s jaw tightened and his entire body stilled before he began to glow, a deep crimson rage, as if he had bathed in fire and brimstone. The chains that cut into his skin melted away, shattering into tiny fragments that burst outwards into the air. No longer restrained, Masamune materialised swiftly within his grasp. He lashed out in a heated frenzy, slicing the nearby group of soldiers with a single blow. The infantrymen at your sides cocked their guns towards you, yet within a blink of an eye Sephiroth had winnowed; like inky black smoke staining the air. A black, feathered wing protruded, extending out from his shoulder, sweeping around to protect your body. Their hail of feeble bullets ricocheted off him. And when they had exhausted their supply of ammunition, he bathed the expanse with their blood. The edge of his blade sang with each life he took. Any soldiers who attempted to flee were brutally cut down until the only soul that remained was Hojo.
Sephiroth glowered at the man like an aggressive cat ready to pounce. His jaw clenched, and an enraged guttural growl echoed throughout the crystallised halls as he leapt forward. For the first time you saw genuine fear within the feeble old man’s eyes.
Sephiroth wrapped his hand around Hojo’s neck, lifting him skyward, until his feet no longer touched the floor. He clenched his fingers, tightening, squeezing, choking.
“Turn away (Y/N).” Sephiroth ordered.
You did as he asked, closing your eyes. The long-winded struggle of desperate begging gasps and wheezing ceased with a bone splintering CRACK—followed by the heavy thud of his body hitting the floor. And then… there was nothing but a deathly, cold silence.
———
You shuddered at the sight of dead bodies strewn across the floor, at the streams of blood curdled around your feet. The rancid smell of death sickening your stomach. Before the bile had a chance to rise, Sephiroth wrapped his wing around you as if to shield you from the aftermath.
He leaned forward, his brow coated in sweat, his breathing uneven. “We should leave this place.” He murmured, his voice low. The darkness around him dissipated, and his fire quelled as he cradled you in a consoling embrace.
You latched onto him tightly, suppressing your brimming sobs and quietly nodded in agreement. You felt your bodies lift away from the ground, rising higher and higher. You left the cave, taking to the sky.
Within an instant the sight of land spread far behind you as his wing lifted you above the clouds and towards the star speckled backdrop of the sky. The bracing winds, brushed past your face, chilling the tips of your ears. Sephiroth’s body felt warm and solid against your own as he pressed you closer towards the strength of his chest. Glancing up at the angelic, handsome features of his face, you noticed the biting sting of regret and anguish. Glassy streams of silver tears lined his cheek.
