#obsidian x reader

[chiara-hotel]

“I want to break up” textfic prank!!

Characters: Blade, Aventurine, Osamu Dazai, Sunday & Obsidian

Warnings: Made sunday with yandere in mind & Pre-Release obsidian & Sunday

[sugiliteful]

Obsidian x gn!reader, modern + infection au, kinda angsty but without a bad ending, 1.3k words. happy late Halloween ★ //warnings: blood blood and more blood, brief gore and cannibalism, implied suicide ideation, mentions of violence, general mental instability, cursing, is this even anything

“Bite me.”

Obsidian is almost surprised enough to set down the half-eaten human leg she clutches between dirtied nails like a lifeline. (In her defense, none of the meat she’s eaten in the past month has been even half as fresh. She’s beginning to theorize you finally got the sense to stick a knife in that irritating employer of yours and put her porcelain flesh to much better use as an entrée. What? Can’t a girl dream?) But alas, she wouldn’t put many audacious statements past you anymore.

Once finished chewing, Obsidian swallows what remains of the calf and turns to look at you—still hidden behind the wall of glass that surrounds her enclosure. You might be insane, but you’ve clearly thought this out, she’ll give you that.

“And why should I do that?”

“Because I’m asking you to.”

Blood continues to ooze out from the carcass onto the white tiled floor in the stillness, fluorescent lights unrelenting. Several moments pass before Obsidian finally blinks.

“How convincing.”

“I didn’t exactly think you’d need convincing,” you continue, still not setting down your clipboard or even meeting her eyes. Come to think of it, now that she’s paying attention, yours look a lot more watery than usual, and your tone is only so flat and faintly bitter to mask its own slight tremble. “Don’t you want to?”

“Of course I want to,” she says offhandedly, averting her gaze from you to focus on licking vital fluid off her palms now. “For obvious reasons I needn’t reiterate. But what do you have to gain from it? Don’t tell me you’ve finally lost the will to live like the rest of us.”

Something in her last sentence seems to strike you, as the room becomes quiet again until Obsidian voices the thought that’s been lingering in the back of her mind for weeks—every day since you brought her here, every hour since she had that first needle stuck in her, every minute since her life has been confined to a single room, every second she’d had to tolerate your pitying gaze and live with the fact she can’t find a way to hate it.

“If you’re truly sure of this, it wouldn’t hurt to let me out first.”

A beat.

“No, it wouldn’t.”

Her eyes widen as you start to punch numbers into the keypad, exactly six digits in when the door to the decontamination chamber hisses in annoyance before giving way. Another six digits, and the last door standing between her and the whole world slides open in turn.

She drops the carcass.

Why isn’t she running? Why isn’t she running? Why is she still sitting? Why is she stuck in place? Stupid stupid stupid stupid—HOW CAN YOU BE THIS STUPID? GET UP GET UP GET UP MOVE RUN RUN RUN WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU WHAT THE FUCK WHY WON’T YOU FUCKING RUN—

It takes longer than she thought it would to stand.

S̶̮̼̦̪͘O̵̖̒̍̈͋͝͝ ̷̰̺͆̈́̂̃̃̐̋͗͘H̵̹̬̫̊̄̈̍̓̔̂̆͜Ǔ̵̡̢̬͉͓͉̤̎̀́̓͐̆̃̈Ņ̶̛̠͔̰̳̲̪̻̱͈̐͂̊͋̽̎̐̏͝G̴̡̗̼̏̐͠R̷͕̙̐̋́̔͗̄̓̐͐͠Ẏ̸̬̥̤̲̦͇͍͕͙̯̈͌ S̶̮̼̦̪͘O̵̖̒̍̈͋͝͝ ̷̰̺͆̈́̂̃̃̐̋͗͘H̵̹̬̫̊̄̈̍̓̔̂̆͜Ǔ̵̡̢̬͉͓͉̤̎̀́̓͐̆̃̈Ņ̶̛̠͔̰̳̲̪̻̱͈̐͂̊͋̽̎̐̏͝G̴̡̗̼̏̐͠R̷͕̙̐̋́̔͗̄̓̐͐͠Ẏ̸̬̥̤̲̦͇͍͕͙̯̈͌ S̶̮̼̦̪͘O̵̖̒̍̈͋͝͝ ̷̰̺͆̈́̂̃̃̐̋͗͘H̵̹̬̫̊̄̈̍̓̔̂̆͜Ǔ̵̡̢̬͉͓͉̤̎̀́̓͐̆̃̈Ņ̶̛̠͔̰̳̲̪̻̱͈̐͂̊͋̽̎̐̏͝G̴̡̗̼̏̐͠R̷͕̙̐̋́̔͗̄̓̐͐͠Ẏ̸̬̥̤̲̦͇͍͕͙̯̈͌ S̶̮̼̦̪͘O̵̖̒̍̈͋͝͝ ̷̰̺͆̈́̂̃̃̐̋͗͘H̵̹̬̫̊̄̈̍̓̔̂̆͜Ǔ̵̡̢̬͉͓͉̤̎̀́̓͐̆̃̈Ņ̶̛̠͔̰̳̲̪̻̱͈̐͂̊͋̽̎̐̏͝G̴̡̗̼̏̐͠R̷͕̙̐̋́̔͗̄̓̐͐͠Ẏ̸̬̥̤̲̦͇͍͕͙̯̈͌

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀WE ALREADY ATE.

Even longer to shut her brain up long enough to start walking instead of running. There’s still a chance you’ll start having second thoughts if she starts acting like the animal a half of her mind wants her to be.

Obsidian doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that you don’t flinch in the slightest when she gets too close—as though politely playing dumb to her deteriorating appearance. The darkness under her nails not acquired but earned from half a hundred bodies, the tangled pieces of her far too long hair she hasn’t been able to work out yet with just her fingers, the grayish skin and the dark circles under her eyes, the reddish tint to the raised lines on exposed skin she can’t stop scratching at with all ten nails long overdue for a cut.

You look at her as though none of that exists, like she’s another person and not some kind of oddity. Like something someone no one in their right mind would be afraid to touch. Like anything about her—about this—is characteristic of the word “normal” the way she knew it before the infection started.

But she can’t ignore how much that gaze has dulled since the first time it graced her. You don’t look well in any sense of the word but physical. A little ironic coming from her of all people, but then again, doesn’t it take one to know one? No, no, wait—why is she worrying about something as trivial as this? All you asked for was for her to infect you. That’s all she should be thinking about right now—apart from escaping, but that won’t be much trouble soon.

By the time Obsidian finishes her thought, you’re tugging down the high collar of your shirt to expose more of your neck—flesh unmarked by wounds, clearly alive with the way she can just barely make out a running vein down the length of it. She considers reminding you how insane of a request this is, but determines it futile seeing as how much she doubts it would deter you—after all, you know better than anyone that there’s no going back after the pathogen finds it’s way into the bloodstream.

Without further ado, Obsidian leans in to kill you. Only, her teeth barely make it an inch from your neck before the noise starts.

E̴͙̻͌̃Ä̴̼̟́̓̾͗̒̄̈́͘͘͜͝T̴̢̹̙̥͔́̽̐̾̊͘

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀No. She just ate. And you didn’t ask for that.

Ê̴̛̦̘̲̪͙͙̥̾͌̓͐͊̂͝A̶̻͐T̸̢̬̤̺͔̟͍̲̐͑̓̂͑̃͘̚̕ͅ ̴̨̛͕̠̮͇͚͚͎̀̐̈̃̍F̴̞̘̭̮̒͒͝Ų̵̧̠͖͙̐͋́̂̈́̔̽C̵̟̗͔̮̹͕̳̓̔̓̈́̋̓͝ͅK̴̝̼͓͔͇͙̼̰̗̀͂̆͊̀͑̂̆ͅÎ̴̠͓̦͓̪͓̯̰͍̄̊̾͆͜N̸̢̡̼̖̜̣̤̭̈̏̽̀͊͊͘͘G̷̨̫̤̾̓̓̍̇̓̇ͅ ̸̧̢̗̣͙͙̦̮̮̫͗̅̔͠E̴̡̥͖̣̞̱͋̔̿̉́͑͝Ạ̷͔̗͓̼̙̪̞̻̍̂T̷̛̟̼̞̯́͛̆͐́̈͂̿ ̵͚̣̘̆̔́̎̀͒͘E̷̺̺̮̪̺̪̒̒͊̃̈͑̚ͅA̶̩͎͇͉͚͔͇̘̯̍

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀No.

S̶̮̼̦̪͘O̵̖̒̍̈͋͝͝ ̷̰̺͆̈́̂̃̃̐̋͗͘J̸̭͔͐͗̇̔̀̾Ǔ̷̫̫̬̋͑̓̾́͌̀̀͝S̶͍̝͋̓́̋̄̂̇̚̚T̶̛̠͈̠̜̭̤̣̱͛̉͒̈́͆͂̓̀͠ͅ ̴̭̟̫̺͈̀̀̍F̵̨̟͙̦̮͖̰͔̰̏̐̋̐̀̈̇͘Ú̵̻͆̉͒̐̏͒̚͠C̶̛͇̜͎̎̈́̈͑͘K̷̮̩̤͙̘͘͝I̷̡̞̺̊̈́̒̈̀̓ͅŅ̶̗͚͉̹̫͖̞̚G̵̡̺͓͚̥̘͔͖̯̙̋͂́́ ̷̰̺͆̈́̂̃̃̐̋͗͘H̵̹̬̫̊̄̈̍̓̔̂̆͜Ǔ̵̡̢̬͉͓͉̤̎̀́̓͐̆̃̈Ņ̶̛̠͔̰̳̲̪̻̱͈̐͂̊͋̽̎̐̏͝G̴̡̗̼̏̐͠R̷͕̙̐̋́̔͗̄̓̐͐͠Ẏ̸̬̥̤̲̦͇͍͕͙̯̈͌ Ê̴̛̦̘̲̪͙͙̥̾͌̓͐͊̂͝A̶̻͐T̸̢̬̤̺͔̟͍̲̐͑̓̂͑̃͘̚̕ͅ ̴̨̛͕̠̮͇͚͚͎̀̐̈̃̍F̴̞̘̭̮̒͒͝Ų̵̧̠͖͙̐͋́̂̈́̔̽C̵̟̗͔̮̹͕̳̓̔̓̈́̋̓͝ͅK̴̝̼͓͔͇͙̼̰̗̀͂̆͊̀͑̂̆ͅÎ̴̠͓̦͓̪͓̯̰͍̄̊̾͆͜N̸̢̡̼̖̜̣̤̭̈̏̽̀͊͊͘͘G̷̨̫̤̾̓̓̍̇̓̇ͅ ̸̧̢̗̣͙͙̦̮̮̫͗̅̔͠E̴̡̥͖̣̞̱͋̔̿̉́͑͝Ạ̷͔̗͓̼̙̪̞̻̍̂T̷̛̟̼̞̯́͛̆͐́̈͂̿

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Obsidian tries—really tries—to sink her teeth in without ripping anything, but it just gets harder to say no the louder the voice gets and the more she gets to look at the flesh up-close, and she can’t do it.

Ȅ̷͖̩͔̲̺͂́͂̉͒̿Ǎ̷͉̌̍̍T̵̼͇̰͒̇̀̽̎̈́̚͠ ̴̡̱͍͒̿̂̀̚̚S̶̮̼̦̪͘O̵̖̒̍̈͋͝͝ ̴̭̟̫̺͈̀̀̍F̵̨̟͙̦̮͖̰͔̰̏̐̋̐̀̈̇͘Ú̵̻͆̉͒̐̏͒̚͠C̶̛͇̜͎̎̈́̈͑͘K̷̮̩̤͙̘͘͝I̷̡̞̺̊̈́̒̈̀̓ͅŅ̶̗͚͉̹̫͖̞̚G̵̡̺͓͚̥̘͔͖̯̙̋͂́́ ̷̰̺͆̈́̂̃̃̐̋͗͘H̵̹̬̫̊̄̈̍̓̔̂̆͜Ǔ̵̡̢̬͉͓͉̤̎̀́̓͐̆̃̈Ņ̶̛̠͔̰̳̲̪̻̱͈̐͂̊͋̽̎̐̏͝G̴̡̗̼̏̐͠R̷͕̙̐̋́̔͗̄̓̐͐͠Ẏ̸̬̥̤̲̦͇͍͕͙̯̈͌ ̶̢̻̰̰͎͓̦̠̾J̴͇̥̗̦̝̬̪̄̾̓̑̈́̈͋̿̚̕U̸͈̳̼̥̔̉̃́S̴͍͍̖̯̳̞̫̘̖̈͜͝T̷͉͙̣̠͕̈̋̂̾͒̓̾͒͑̑͜ ̵̖̜͎͙̼̳̝͇̻̻̃͒̋̃̑͑͂̀̕F̸̯̤̏͗̋̈́̇͘Ư̸͚̰͖̻͖̩͖̍͒͌̌͆͘C̶̛̣̤͊̑̓̽̚K̵̭̪͈̲͕̎͛̉I̶̬̣̦͓͙͗̀Ṋ̷̱̗̓̅̀̑́͂̐̉͆G̷̺̬̃̓͐̽̏͑̂̈̉̚ ̵̧̦̩̟̖̲̈́̈̾̎J̸̭͔͐͗̇̔̀̾Ǔ̷̫̫̬̋͑̓̾́͌̀̀͝S̶͍̝͋̓́̋̄̂̇̚̚T̶̛̠͈̠̜̭̤̣̱͛̉͒̈́͆͂̓̀͠ͅ ̸̡̳̰̻̯̻͙̃͒̍F̷̮͕̼̳̄͜͝U̴̘̘̲̬̰͊͂͆Ç̴̡͙͙̲͔͓̬͖̌̿̂̄͑K̸̨̢̛̠̰̣̯̤̥͋̿͐͗̐̎̚Ì̶̢̟̦͕̅̇Ņ̵̖̰̦̫̯̈́̈́̀̀̃͋͘͘G̸̻̥̯̙̭̮̊̍͊̂͊͜͝ ̷̧̛̾͝Ȅ̷͖̩͔̲̺͂́͂̉͒̿Ǎ̷͉̌̍̍T̵̼͇̰͒̇̀̽̎̈́̚͠

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀If she bites you now, she won’t be able to stop, and not only will you be dead but she will have given in again to the voice she spends half her time resisting. But it doesn’t care in the slightest for her rationality. It goes on uninterrupted, the volume rising even she attempts to divert her thoughts, making her lightheaded and barely a breath away from the way out. She could just do it. Get it over with. But she still doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to kill and eat you. Part of her hates you, but that’s exactly the problem—it is unsatisfying to consume rotten flesh, no matter how appealing her senses try to tell her it is.

Ë̴̬̻̩͉́̈͌̍Ą̶̯̻͓̯̯̺̪̈́T̶̨̡͕̝̯͕͉̦͚̩̽Ë̴̬̻̩͉́̈͌̍Ą̶̯̻͓̯̯̺̪̈́T̶̨̡͕̝̯͕͉̦͚̩̽ ̷̰̺͆̈́̂̃̃̐̋͗͘H̵̹̬̫̊̄̈̍̓̔̂̆͜Ǔ̵̡̢̬͉͓͉̤̎̀́̓͐̆̃̈Ņ̶̛̠͔̰̳̲̪̻̱͈̐͂̊͋̽̎̐̏͝G̴̡̗̼̏̐͠R̷͕̙̐̋́̔͗̄̓̐͐͠Ẏ̸̬̥̤̲̦͇͍͕͙̯̈͌ ̶̢̻̰̰͎͓̦̠̾S̶̮̼̦̪͘O̵̖̒̍̈͋͝͝Ȅ̷͖̩͔̲̺͂́͂̉͒̿Ǎ̷͉̌̍̍T̵̼͇̰͒̇̀̽̎̈́̚͠Ȅ̷͖̩͔̲̺͂́͂̉͒̿Ǎ̷͉̌̍̍T̵̼͇̰͒̇̀̽̎̈́̚͠ ̴̭̟̫̺͈̀̀̍F̵̨̟͙̦̮͖̰͔̰̏̐̋̐̀̈̇͘Ú̵̻͆̉͒̐̏͒̚͠C̶̛͇̜͎̎̈́̈͑͘K̷̮̩̤͙̘͘͝I̷̡̞̺̊̈́̒̈̀̓ͅŅ̶̗͚͉̹̫͖̞̚G̵̡̺͓͚̥̘͔͖̯̙̋͂́́ ̷̰̺͆̈́̂̃̃̐̋͗͘Ë̴̬̻̩͉́̈͌̍Ą̶̯̻͓̯̯̺̪̈́T̶̨̡͕̝̯͕͉̦͚̩̽Ë̴̬̻̩͉́̈͌̍Ą̶̯̻͓̯̯̺̪̈́T̶̨̡͕̝̯͕͉̦͚̩̽Ë̴̬̻̩͉́̈͌̍Ą̶̯̻͓̯̯̺̪̈́T̶̨̡͕̝̯͕͉̦͚̩̽Ë̴̬̻̩͉́̈͌̍Ą̶̯̻͓̯̯̺̪̈́T̶̨̡͕̝̯͕͉̦͚̩̽ ̵̖̜͎͙̼̳̝͇̻̻̃͒̋̃̑͑͂̀̕S̶̮̼̦̪͘O̵̖̒̍̈͋͝͝ ̴̭̟̫̺͈̀̀̍F̵̨̟͙̦̮͖̰͔̰̏̐̋̐̀̈̇͘Ú̵̻͆̉͒̐̏͒̚͠C̶̛͇̜͎̎̈́̈͑͘K̷̮̩̤͙̘͘͝I̷̡̞̺̊̈́̒̈̀̓ͅŅ̶̗͚͉̹̫͖̞̚G̵̡̺͓͚̥̘͔͖̯̙̋͂́́F̸̯̤̏͗̋̈́̇͘Ư̸͚̰͖̻͖̩͖̍͒͌̌͆͘C̶̛̣̤͊̑̓̽̚K̵̭̪͈̲͕̎͛̉I̶̬̣̦͓͙͗̀Ṋ̷̱̗̓̅̀̑́͂̐̉͆G̷̺̬̃̓͐̽̏͑̂̈̉̚ ̵̧̦̩̟̖̲̈́̈̾̎J̸̭͔͐͗̇̔̀̾Ǔ̷̫̫̬̋͑̓̾́͌̀̀͝S̶͍̝͋̓́̋̄̂̇̚̚T̶̛̠͈̠̜̭̤̣̱͛̉͒̈́͆͂̓̀͠ͅ ̸̡̳̰̻̯̻͙̃͒̍F̷̮͕̼̳̄͜͝U̴̘̘̲̬̰͊͂͆Ç̴̡͙͙̲͔͓̬͖̌̿̂̄͑K̸̨̢̛̠̰̣̯̤̥͋̿͐͗̐̎̚Ì̶̢̟̦͕̅̇Ņ̵̖̰̦̫̯̈́̈́̀̀̃͋͘͘G̸̻̥̯̙̭̮̊̍͊̂͊͜͝ ̷̧̛̾͝Ȅ̷͖̩͔̲̺͂́͂̉͒̿Ǎ̷͉̌̍̍T̵̼͇̰͒̇̀̽̎̈́̚͠Ȅ̷͖̩͔̲̺͂́͂̉͒̿Ǎ̷͉̌̍̍Ë̴̬̻̩͉́̈͌̍Ą̶̯̻͓̯̯̺̪̈́T̶̨̡͕̝̯͕͉̦͚̩̽ ̴̭̟̫̺͈̀̀̍S̶̮̼̦̪͘O̵̖̒̍̈͋͝͝ ̴̭̟̫̺͈̀̀̍F̵̨̟͙̦̮͖̰͔̰̏̐̋̐̀̈̇͘Ú̵̻͆̉͒̐̏͒̚͠C̶̛͇̜͎̎̈́̈͑͘K̷̮̩̤͙̘͘͝I̷̡̞̺̊̈́̒̈̀̓ͅŅ̶̗͚͉̹̫͖̞̚G̵̡̺͓͚̥̘͔͖̯̙̋͂́́ ̷̰̺͆̈́̂̃̃̐̋͗͘H̵̹̬̫̊̄̈̍̓̔̂̆͜Ǔ̵̡̢̬͉͓͉̤̎̀́̓͐̆̃̈Ņ̶̛̠͔̰̳̲̪̻̱͈̐͂̊͋̽̎̐̏͝G̴̡̗̼̏̐͠R̷͕̙̐̋́̔͗̄̓̐͐͠Ẏ̸̬̥̤̲̦͇͍͕͙̯̈͌ ̶̢̻̰̰͎͓̦̠̾S̶̮̼̦̪͘O̵̖̒̍̈͋͝͝ ̷̰̺͆̈́̂̃̃̐̋͗͘H̵̹̬̫̊̄̈̍̓̔̂̆͜Ǔ̵̡̢̬͉͓͉̤̎̀́̓͐̆̃̈Ņ̶̛̠͔̰̳̲̪̻̱͈̐͂̊͋̽̎̐̏͝G̴̡̗̼̏̐͠R̷͕̙̐̋́̔͗̄̓̐͐͠Ẏ̸̬̥̤̲̦͇͍͕͙̯̈͌J̴͇̥̗̦̝̬̪̄̾̓̑̈́̈͋̿̚̕U̸͈̳̼̥̔̉̃́S̴͍͍̖̯̳̞̫̘̖̈͜͝T̷͉͙̣̠͕̈̋̂̾͒̓̾͒͑̑͜Ë̴̬̻̩͉́̈͌̍Ą̶̯̻͓̯̯̺̪̈́T̶̨̡͕̝̯͕͉̦͚̩̽Ë̴̬̻̩͉́̈͌̍Ą̶̯̻͓̯̯̺̪̈́T̶̨̡͕̝̯͕͉̦͚̩̽Ë̴̬̻̩͉́̈͌̍Ą̶̯̻͓̯̯̺̪̈́T̶̨̡͕̝̯͕͉̦͚̩̽Ë̴̬̻̩͉́̈͌̍Ą̶̯̻͓̯̯̺̪̈́T̶̨̡͕̝̯͕͉̦͚̩̽ Ë̴̬̻̩͉́̈͌̍Ą̶̯̻͓̯̯̺̪̈́T̶̨̡͕̝̯͕͉̦͚̩̽Ë̴̬̻̩͉́̈͌̍Ą̶̯̻͓̯̯̺̪̈́T̶̨̡͕̝̯͕͉̦͚̩̽ ̴̭̟̫̺͈̀̀̍S̶̮̼̦̪͘O̵̖̒̍̈͋͝͝ ̴̭̟̫̺͈̀̀̍F̵̨̟͙̦̮͖̰͔̰̏̐̋̐̀̈̇͘Ú̵̻͆̉͒̐̏͒̚͠C̶̛͇̜͎̎̈́̈͑͘K̷̮̩̤͙̘͘͝I̷̡̞̺̊̈́̒̈̀̓ͅŅ̶̗͚͉̹̫͖̞̚G̵̡̺͓͚̥̘͔͖̯̙̋͂́́ ̷̰̺͆̈́̂̃̃̐̋͗͘H̵̹̬̫̊̄̈̍̓̔̂̆͜Ǔ̵̡̢̬͉͓͉̤̎̀́̓͐̆̃̈Ņ̶̛̠͔̰̳̲̪̻̱͈̐͂̊͋̽̎̐̏͝G̴̡̗̼̏̐͠R̷͕̙̐̋́̔͗̄̓̐͐͠Ẏ̸̬̥̤̲̦͇͍͕͙̯̈͌ ̶̢̻̰̰͎͓̦̠̾S̶̮̼̦̪͘O̵̖̒̍̈͋͝͝ ̴̭̟̫̺͈̀̀̍F̵̨̟͙̦̮͖̰͔̰̏̐̋̐̀̈̇͘Ú̵̻͆̉͒̐̏͒̚͠C̶̛͇̜͎̎̈́̈͑͘K̷̮̩̤͙̘͘͝I̷̡̞̺̊̈́̒̈̀̓ͅŅ̶̗͚͉̹̫͖̞̚G̵̡̺͓͚̥̘͔͖̯̙̋͂́́ ̷̰̺͆̈́̂̃̃̐̋͗͘H̵̹̬̫̊̄̈̍̓̔̂̆͜Ǔ̵̡̢̬͉͓͉̤̎̀́̓͐̆̃̈Ņ̶̛̠͔̰̳̲̪̻̱͈̐͂̊͋̽̎̐̏͝G̴̡̗̼̏̐͠R̷͕̙̐̋́̔͗̄̓̐͐͠Ẏ̸̬̥̤̲̦͇͍͕͙̯̈͌J̴͇̥̗̦̝̬̪̄̾̓̑̈́̈͋̿̚̕U̸͈̳̼̥̔̉̃́S̴͍͍̖̯̳̞̫̘̖̈͜͝T̷͉͙̣̠͕̈̋̂̾͒̓̾͒͑̑͜ ̵̖̜͎͙̼̳̝͇̻̻̃͒̋̃̑͑͂̀̕F̸̯̤̏͗̋̈́̇͘Ư̸͚̰͖̻͖̩͖̍͒͌̌͆͘C̶̛̣̤͊̑̓̽̚K̵̭̪͈̲͕̎͛̉I̶̬̣̦͓͙͗̀Ṋ̷̱̗̓̅̀̑́͂̐̉͆G̷̺̬̃̓͐̽̏͑̂̈̉̚ ̵̧̦̩̟̖̲̈́̈̾̎J̸̭͔͐͗̇̔̀̾Ǔ̷̫̫̬̋͑̓̾́͌̀̀͝S̶͍̝͋̓́̋̄̂̇̚̚T̶̛̠͈̠̜̭̤̣̱͛̉͒̈́͆͂̓̀͠ͅ ̸̡̳̰̻̯̻͙̃͒̍F̷̮͕̼̳̄͜͝U̴̘̘̲̬̰͊͂͆Ç̴̡͙͙̲͔͓̬͖̌̿̂̄͑K̸̨̢̛̠̰̣̯̤̥͋̿͐͗̐̎̚Ì̶̢̟̦͕̅̇Ņ̵̖̰̦̫̯̈́̈́̀̀̃͋͘͘G̸̻̥̯̙̭̮̊̍͊̂͊͜͝ ̷̧̛̾͝Ȅ̷͖̩͔̲̺͂́͂̉͒̿Ǎ̷͉̌̍̍T̵̼͇̰͒̇̀̽̎̈́̚͠Ȅ̷͖̩͔̲̺͂́͂̉͒̿Ǎ̷͉̌̍̍T̵̼͇̰͒̇̀̽̎̈́̚͠

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She can’t bite. She can’t run away. She can’t pull her brain together long enough to distract it. You apparently have a death wish and no problem with Obsidian standing an inch from an anatomically vulnerable point for what’s surely been over a minute. What the fuck is she supposed to do now?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Give in. No. No, no, no, no. She won’t grant it the satisfaction. Not a second time. Not with you, not with you. Anything else would be a suitable alternative.

…no matter how ridiculous.

With that, Obsidian closes her mouth and buries her face in the crook of your neck.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

The silence is jarring after so much screaming. So jarring, in fact, that Obsidian can’t pull herself away until her lips have been touching your skin for far too long to be considered accidental.

You flinch—finally—and go still at the sudden contact light rather than sharp. Hesitantly, you wrap your arms around the source of it, and that’s all Obsidian needs to become fanged dead weight.

It’s only later, clutching both sides of the sink in front of the faculty bathroom mirror that you notice the tear stains on your shirt.

[akutasoda]

ipc

who do i write for? - dr ratio, aventurine, topaz, sugilite, pearl, obsidian

»multi

- do you think that this, us, ever could be something more? - ratio, aventurine + more

- youthful assassinations - aventurine + more

- experimental beginnings - aventurine + more

- teenage night terrors - aventurine + more

- don't waste that youth - aventurine + more

- dont stray too far - aventurine + more

- an idols mirage - aventurine + more

- in the morning light - aventurine + more

- dispelling the darkness - aventurine + more

- screentime overload - aventurine + more

- the dueling galaxing ranger - aventurine + more

»fics

- student knowledge - ratio

- sudden whispering kisses - aventurine

- may luck be on your side - aventurine

- personal debts - aventurine ft topaz and numby

- pawprint deliveries! - aventurine

- history hates roomates - aventurine ft topaz + ratio

- a jewel and a maid - aventurine

»headcannons and drabbles

- realisation and confessions - ratio

- endearing shyness - ratio

- role models - aventurine

- a debt repaid - aventurine

- preserving youth - aventurine

- if only i could've told you sooner - aventurine

all

- seems pretty empty...

[spirit-lanterns]

OBSIDIANNNNNN omg this girl... my faves looking on in despair as I quickly shove all of them aside in favor of my new queen. She is EVERYTHING. I'm SHOCKED at how bad I need her. The hair, the Gothic vampire princess aesthetic the FUCKIN LEGS IN THE BATH RAAAAAAAAAH i need her I need her I need her. I want to kiss her neck while she bites through the skin on my shoulder and laps up the blood AOOOOOUGOAUGHAO

TW: Mentions of biting and blood

Oh to be at her beck and call, her loyal and devoted servant who is the one who prepares her blood baths and brings her all the wine and pomegranates she could consume. You’d be standing there with a towel draped over your arm, standing obediently while you watch her enjoy her bath as you’re the only one she entrusts to watch her naked like this. You’re her personal servant, after all…

Once she decides she’s done relaxing, she’ll snap her fingers and order you to come help her dry. As per usual, you bend down to help her out of the bath, when she suddenly tugs you forward and attacks your neck, sinking her teeth into your shoulder and wrapping her arms around you, a pleased hum leaving her lips while she savors the taste of your blood…

It hurts a little, but it’s honestly not that bad when you have your mistress clean up the mess for you and kiss the forming bruise. Upon seeing you a bit weakened from the loss of blood, Obsidian merely smiles and takes the towel meant for her to wrap around your wound, pressing it to stop the bleeding. You did good, letting her have a sip of your blood and not struggling, she’ll definitely reward you later when she calls you up to her quarters for the night.

Getting out of the bath, you could only watch in a dazed stupor as Mistress Obsidian steps out, soaking wet from all the blood and staining the bathroom tiles, chuckling to herself at your dumbstruck expression before drying herself off with a towel on her own.

“Clean the floor, will you? I’ll be waiting for you in my room when you’re done.”

[chiara-hotel]

Dating Them! Characters: Himeko, Welt, Firefly, Herta, Ruan Mei, Fu Xuan & Obsidian Warnings: Penacony questline spoilers (Firefly)

- Himeko is more of a quiet, gentle lover

- Her main love languages is quality time so she loves to hangout with you every single day, even if its as simple as chatting over tea or as big as going on an adventure to find a stellaron

- Following that it would be gift giving, giving you small but simple gifts of things that you like or reminded her of you

- In the past she has given you

Tea Cups (or Coffee cups if you're a coffee drinker)

Specialized Jewelry

- When she does cuddle its usually whenever you both are in bed getting ready to sleep

- But you don't go to sleep cuddling like that-she'd prefer to hold you a bit before and then sleep separately (although you both are still in the same bed)

- Himekos favourite dates include Coffee/Tea hangouts or Movies

- PDA is okay but only if its the express crew and only a little bit, not full on making out infront of them-holding hands, occasional kisses and hugging is okay. Infront of anyone else she sticks to hand holding or hugging

- Himeko also isn't too jealous as a person, she trusts you won't leave her so she trusts you fully

- Welt is very similar to Himeko in a loving sense

- Similar to her hes gentle and quiet-not to mention he never gets jealous over you

- One thing he does get is protective, specifically when someones overstepped the boundaries a little bit

- His main love language would be acts of service. Welt loves helping you out whenever you need it, holding the door for you, protecting you from an enemy etc!

- Some gifts he would give you include...

Chocolates

Perfume

Flowers (lots of flowers)

Watches

- Welt loves cuddling whenever you both have free time, specifically either you laying on top of him or the other way around

- If you both wanted to, he would also love to cuddle to sleep

- Some of the dates you guys go on can include:

Picnics

Movies

Teaching you skills

- Now to be dating firefly you have to know about her being SAM + know the other Stellaron Hunters

- As a lover, Firefly lets you take the lead in the relationship a bit more but she isn't afraid to talk to you about things that are needed

- Her main love language is Words of Affirmation & Gift Giving

- She always loves to say "I love you" or "you're beautiful" or even how cute/adorable/handsome you are

- Other than that we've seen before in the Penacony quest how she loves to give gifts/food to her partners whenever they remind her of them! The same goes with you! Whenever she seems something she think you might like she always goes out to buy it for you

- Which includes pastries, keychains, necklaces and a lot more

- Dates with firefly would occur really anywhere. She's not really known for being wanted like the rest of the hunters so she does have creative freedom-just don't do anything or go anywhere where she would need to activate SAM and you're fine!

- Occasionally she might get a little jealous/question if she deserves you but just talk her out of it and make her understand how much you love her

- Dating Herta is special since she does have countless copies of herself all over the space station

- You could talk with her at her office and then walk out...BOOM! There's another Herta standing in front of you

- On that note, Herta's main love language is Quality Time!

- It works out since there are many Hertas-even so she wants you to hangout with her main body (the one in her office) the most, so its where you spend most of your day

- Some popular dating spots she'd bring you:

Researching together

Eating lunch together

- Ruan Mei is a careful lover

- Her love language is Acts of Service & Physical Touch

- Ruan Mei enjoys helping you out with small tasks & she enjoys whenever you help her out aswell

- Physical Touch for her is mainly holding hands while walking and doing various things

- Jealousy doesn't exist in Ruan Mei's books either-why would you leave her for someone you met 0.5 seconds ago? That isn't like you at all

- Dates with her vary, some can include:

Going out for lunch together

Working on science projects/experiments

- Ruan Mei is very protective of you-its like she has a third eye watching you at all times to ensure nothing bad happens to you

- Fu Xuan's love language is mainly acts of service

- She is very shy with physical affection most of the time, especially if you do something in front of others

- But she will help you out from time to time and occasionally takes your fortune if you wish

- Date spots with Fu Xuan include...

Walks around the Luofu

Combat training to up your skills

Going to an arcade together

- Occasionally she will also give small gifts that she think you'd enjoy, usually its only on special occasions though

- From what we seen Obsidian likes to cause chaos and start "bloodbaths" as she'd say

- But in a relationship she'd treat you as a Queen/King

- Always paying attention to you, Always doing what you'd like

- Her servants always follow your orders because if they don't well lets just say Obsidian won't be happy

- Having baths together in "blood" is also her favorite activity

[chiara-hotel]

Do you work for the IPC? Based on your s/o

(w/The 10 Stonehearts & Diamond) Pre-release stonehearts

Yes! Your role might vary based on your skillset and such although you are an important member of the team. You work under your s/o since they want to keep you by their side (and they don't want you to be under anyone else).

Characters: Sugilite, Topaz, Sapphire, Jade & Agate

Yes-but also no. Essentially you aren't a true IPC member but you work as your s/o's assistant! They do pay you and you have benefits as any other IPC member. Your role isn't really needed but your s/o wanted to spend wanted to spend more time for you and claims it's "necessary".

Characters: Aventurine, Jade, Obsidian, Pearl & Diamond

Nope! Your s/o doesn't want you to work there-or you just have your own stable job already, so it isn't very necessary. They still enjoy your visits whenever you come to their office-off their mission time that is. Unless their visiting your home world they don't see you during missions.

Characters: Pearl, Amber & Aventurine

[chiara-hotel]

IPC Meeting

Textfic - Characters: Obsidian x Agate!Reader, Sugilite x non!ipcreader

Something small I wrote because I love Obsidian <3

[nvuy]

obsidian...as carmilla....with a laura reader....(vampires save me oh vampires)

carmilla — obsidian

summary. you wake up drunk, bloodied, and with lipstick stains all over you in a bathtub. strangely enough, there’s a woman in the adjacent bedroom with her lips painted a similar colour.

notes. obligatory nvuy wlw post YAYY lesbians!!!!!!!!!!!! i couldn’t think of a way to form this more into carmilla and laura entirely, and considering obsidian’s personality, i tried to piece this nonsense together. enjoy hopefully.

warnings. minors dni, fem reader, bottom reader harhar, obsidian is a weirdo, can be interpreted as slight dubcon, uhhh vampire biting and blood stuff and things, explicit sexual content, wowww obsidian gives you head woo hoo!!!!!!!!!!!!, implied further sexual content i guess???????

A cold sweat drips down your throat when you wake up in the middle of the night, panting heavily with a sharp pulsing pain down the side of your neck. You’re frozen for a moment, staring up at the ceiling until you find it in yourself to raise a trembling hand from the water that has since grown freezing.

You draw your hand away, and there’s blood coated over your palm.

The water is so cold you struggle to remove yourself from the tub. When you fall away, your knees hit the tiles, and bottles and bottles of empty wine are scattered all over the floor. All of them licked clean from the rim to the very tip. Not a drop of red remains in any of them, and there’s a raging headache behind your eyes.

You’re aching everywhere. Your bones and muscles scream as you try to stand. Your knees burn and creak against the tiles. The usual cream colour is painted over in red. You’re not sure if it's wine or something else. The stains have since dried over the floor. 

You’re wearing nothing. Literally nothing, and you don't remember ever getting undressed. Nothing but these fancy heels that you most definitely do not have enough money to afford. They’re a sleek simple black that glosses and glimmers in the light. The bottom of the shoes are blood red. 

You wipe your face of the cold water and stand to your feet, quickly kicking off the shoes. They clatter into the corner. You have no idea what the place is. This isn’t your house, these aren’t your shoes, the panties with the small bow aren’t yours, and your clothes are gone. You manoeuvre around the wine bottles, careful not to step on them and smash the glass to pieces as you reach over and grab a folded towel hanging on a golden rail. 

You wrap it around yourself, desperate for a hint of warmth. 

Then, you catch your reflection in the mirror.

Dizziness strikes you within an instant. 

You’re covered in what you can only describe as puncture wounds. They’re everywhere; they sit over your shoulders, throb at your chest and hips, litter your throat at every inch of skin where the flesh is most supple, down to your legs and ankles. They’re all swollen and dark with bruises, and they burn and sting even more when your head clears. 

Not only are you covered with blood and sticky with the lips of another woman who seems to have mauled you, but there’s writing on the mirror in deep red lipstick. 

‘I wonder whether you feel as strangely drawn to me as I do to you.’ Below the beautiful cursive is a giant heart scrawled in red. 

It’s the same red as the lipstick stains on your skin, and they trail down much lower than where your eyes dare venture.

You blink, dazed, trying to stay upright. 

Your hand instead juts out to examine the faucet. A strange gold that’s cool to the touch. It glimmers so brightly below the dimmed yellow lights you’ve almost convinced yourself it’s real. Marble countertops, clean aside from the wine spills. You spin around and realise what you'd fallen asleep in was more akin to a jacuzzi than a simple bathtub. There’s a separate shower tucked into the corner, and there are handprints on the glass.

You try not to think about it.

Instead, you’re distracted by a noise from outside the door. It makes you jump and pull the towel tighter around you.

Fuck. The noises continue. A drawer opens and you hear objects shift around inside.

Then, humming. A tune of some sort. It sounds like a cheerful upbeat pop song, but you can’t pinpoint exactly which song it is. 

There’s someone out there, and your clothes are nowhere to be found. They don’t seem to be standing right outside the door wielding a knife and readying to drive it through your chest the minute you step through the door. 

You exhale shakily.

Just breathe. 

Slowly, you twist the handle and push open the door. You peek through the gap between the wall. You spy nothing but the side of a wooden dresser and the corner of a large window of sorts. 

You open it further and spot a person. 

It’s a woman with her back facing you, leaning over the vanity mirror in the room. She’s admiring her reflection, and in her hands is a small brush she slides against the top of a smeared lipstick. It’s the same red shade as the writing on the mirror in the bathroom. 

She’s wearing nothing but a black button up shirt and her black underwear with lace at the hem. 

She’s painting her lips and singing something softly. 

She sighs, frustrated. 

Your blood runs cold. You can’t seem to catch her reflection in the mirror. 

The door creaks. 

Her eyes most likely snap to yours in the mirror. 

Her small makeup brush she holds slightly smears across her bottom lip when she stretches her mouth into a grin. “Hi.” 

You don’t dare step closer. You remain fixed at the door, ready to lock yourself in at a moment’s notice. No knife that you can see, but her teeth put you on edge from where you stand. 

Razor sharp. Fangs, like a carnivore’s, the same shape as the puncture wounds all over your body. 

You swallow nervously. 

She then turns in the seat at the vanity. Bright red hair falls past her shoulders like water. It’s tussled at the top with knots as if she’s been rolling across the silk sheets of the bed that sits in the middle of the room. The blankets and quilt are thrown across the mattress carelessly, tangled together. 

She has bruises across her neck. Pink and reds and purples along her pale skin; too pale. She looks almost translucent, glittering beneath the dim lights. 

“You look sore,” she comments, pouting. 

You are. You say nothing. Still, you did not step forward. 

Your chest heaves with fear when she slowly stands from the seat and crosses the room. She sits down slowly on the bed and pats the spot next to her. 

It’s only then you hesitantly step out of the room. You keep the towel tight around your body with one hand as you slowly inch towards her. Your feet are still damp from the water, but the carpet is surprisingly warm. 

You glance around the room. Same golden decor. It’s strange, though. Less modern, more as if an ancient princess obsessed with glimmer and glamour lived here once. The furniture is curved and intricately structured. Frilly and lace pink curtains line the bed frame. 

The woman doesn’t look away. 

Hesitantly, you sit next to her on the bed. 

She says nothing. Her grin softens. 

Your eyes flicker down to her chest. “That’s my shirt.” 

Only the first two buttons are done up, exposing most of her belly down to the low waistband of her panties. “It is.” She admires the ends of the sleeves. “It’s a nice shirt.” 

You’re not sure whether you should thank her. You stare at the wall. There’s a giant wardrobe. Briefly you wonder whether she’s stored your other clothes in there. Pants would be nice. 

“I, uh…” You look to your right. The bathroom door is there, and another adjacent door. It must be the exit, but it’s shut. The lock mechanism is weird. “Is this your house?” 

She giggles. “We’re at a hotel, silly.” She leans against you. The wounds on your arm ache and you almost hiss. “You don’t remember?” 

Right. It made sense, at least. This doesn’t look anything like your house. You only hope she’s paying for the room. You wouldn’t be able to eat for the next month if that isn’t the case. 

You don’t remember. Not much past what stories linger on your skin. You were clearly drunk. You remember leaving your house to attend a party, and that was the extent of where your memories laid. 

“Did we…?” Stupid question. Of course you did. 

She answers anyway. “Mhm.” Her hand cards over the skin above your chest. It’s still damp with water from the tub. She hums pleasantly. “You smell lovely.” 

You don’t feel like you smell lovely. You feel like you’re covered in sweat and cold water and wine and blood. 

She leans closer and you grunt in pain. 

She licks over her teeth. “Are you sore?” 

You lean back until your head hits the pillows in the bed. All feathered with silk cases. They sink with your weight. 

You only hum in response. 

“Y’know what helps with pain?” Her lips find your neck and you tense. Her tongue cards along the wounds and the bruises. She lightly presses her freshly painted lips to your skin, breath and tongue hot. “A nice warm bath.” 

She pulls back to stare at you. 

You almost feel sick. Your head spins and the room tilts on an axis. You’re relieved you’re already laying down. 

“What did you…” Your strength is wilting. “Why am I–” 

“I got a bit carried away,” she explains. She pinches the side of your neck, dangerously close to the deep puncture wounds. You lurch and hold the sores. “You’re delicious.” Her hand ventures daringly over where the towel is tied. “You should’ve stayed locked in the bathroom.” 

What? 

You try to sit up. She holds you down with little strength; you’re too weak to do anything. 

She tugs the towel free and you yelp. 

Her thumb cards over your lips. “It’s fine. You won’t pass out on me. I know your limits now.” Your bottom lip trembles. “I’ve done just enough to keep you placated and docile. All pretty and numb for me to drink from.” 

“You–” You instinctively curl into yourself when her nails rake softly down your torso towards your navel. “What…?” 

“Are you sore down here?”

She grins. 

Her head lowers where her hand is. Her lips whisper soft praises along your stomach and your heart flutters nervously. You find no strength to reach for her. Your arms stay locked and heavy by your head. 

Your eyes sting with exhaustion. 

Something sharp traces over the skin below your navel and you jolt. 

Her tongue drags lower and you try to squeeze your thighs shut. Your legs barely wobble and don’t answer your desperate pleas. 

Instead, they only seem to twitch wider apart when her tongue pools over your clit. It’s soft, barely there with a ghost of her breath, but your muscles lock up as best they can instantly. 

She hums again at your reaction. Her hands come forth to rub soothingly over the wounds along your thighs, encouraging them even further apart. Her nose slides over your clit as her mouth trails down to kiss at the entrance of your twitching hole. 

You shiver. You find no strength to grip the sheets. 

“You’ve been so good. So good at taking me.” She coos, and her thumb stretches your cunt as wide as it will do so. “So swollen.” Her breath washes over the skin, and you notice the heat between your legs, and the throbbing and begging of the flesh to coax her tongue inside. “What would you like?” 

She sucks at your entrance again and you mewl weakly. Fuck. You want her to stay down there and tease your clit. Your legs part wider to accommodate how her lips sink against your skin. Your toes curl weakly. 

She’s gentle. Very gentle. Light touches. You can’t find the strength to cant your hips towards her mouth as she smears lipstick all over your skin. 

“Want my cock again?” 

She’s pointing to the nightstand. You barely have the energy to turn your head, and notice an abandoned thick and dark red cock on the wood. 

Your thighs somehow twitch wider when you see it. 

You throb. “Gods…” 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She kisses your clit and pulls away from your cunt. You whine tiredly. “Tell you what: I’ll run you a bath, and you lie still and take my cock like a good girl while I tear you to pieces.” 

You don’t even think you can move to the tub. 

“Alright,” you mumble. Sounds great. 

She hums, clearly pleased. “I’ll stretch you out again. I’ll go run your bath. Keep your legs spread just like this for me.” She pats your clit softly with her palm before she lifts herself off the bed. 

You frown slowly. “Can’t you just fuck me now?” 

She giggles. Her thumb ventures downward between your thighs to circle around your clit softly. Fuck, you’re twitching. You’re almost embarrassed when she lowers her thumb and then lifts it to her mouth to taste what drips from you. 

“Hot water is better,” is all she whispers. “You’ll bleed more.”