FwB!Bucky Barnes who likes to keep your acts a secret. Who doesn’t want the rest of your friends to know how much you stay over at his and vice versa, letting him fuck you most nights after work.
FwB!Bucky Barnes who gives you the best head of your life, teasing your clit with his metal thumb while his tongue fucks into your aching cunt.
FwB!Bucky Barnes who made the rules but now regrets them. “Not exclusive, no feelings.” But he caught feelings the second he looked into your eyes while you put your mouth on his cock and made him feel like he was heaven, and he knows there’s no going back.
FwB!Bucky Barnes who’s too scared to break things off without admitting his true feelings, especially when the sex is great and the aftercare is even better. The only glimpse of a late night with just the two of you.
FwB!Bucky Barnes who treats you like a princess, pretends it’s normal for the friend you’re fucking to buy you food, pay for the whole meal at dinners out and sends flowers to your apartment, “just to brighten up the place a bit”.
FwB!Bucky Barnes who (disappointingly) accepts when you start seeing someone new and (happily) welcomes you back into his arms when you break up, holding you all night and fucking you until morning to make you forget the asshole even existed to begin with.
FwB!Bucky Barnes who lets you explore all of your kinks without judgement. Choking? His hand is already on your neck, pressing down on the pressure point rather than your windpipe. Breeding? He’s already telling you how good you’d look with a baby in you, his baby. Ropes? He’s the one who insists on it being silk ribbon so that he doesn’t hurt you, and ties it up so beautifully, that you feel like a bow on a present.
FwB!Bucky Barnes who asks you out to dinner, hoping you finally get the hint, but you never do, always paying your share, much to his chagrin.
FwB!Bucky Barnes who can’t help that his heart yearns for you all the time, and he’s not thinking with his dick anymore, but with his emotions.
FwB!Bucky Barnes who admits his love for you in whispers while you’re asleep, not realising that you’re not as deep of a sleeper that he assumes you to be.
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Description: Listing out reasons why you love him.
One of the reasons...
One of the reasons why you loved beefy Bucky... His body was huge like a bear, the beefiest man alive. Big arms, and even bigger dick. That drove you insane but at night he would ruin you with orgasms.
One of the reasons why you loved beefy Bucky... His enormous dick, it reached depths of your walls that no one did before. Always made you squirt and scream, every few days you lost your voice which made your friends question but you just smirked.
One of the reasons why you loved beefy Bucky... His chubby stomach, you could die while laying on him. You loved the feeling of your man being huge. Loved the way he laid on your body and made you feel things. Whenever he lays on you, you just take a deep breath and smile. No one was lucky as you.
One of the reasons why you loved beefy Bucky... His hands, he had enormous hands. He would grab things making everything look extremely small which always made you laugh. You loved the way he grabbed your breasts and ass cheeks, the way he fondled with them.
One of the reasons why you loved beefy Bucky... This man would cum loads, he would cum buckets everyday. He was scared you'd hate him for it or leave but instead you loved it so much. You couldn't get enough of his cum, couldn't get enough of him filling you up. So with that, you'd allow him to cover you in his load.
I need me a huge beefy bucky please I cannot function without him, I just imagine him pounding and pounding while keeping in headlock and pulling our hair so our head goes back. Looking into his eyes, as he pounds and kisses.
I also know for a fact that this man would have a huge breeding kink. He would fill you up, over and over. Even after it drips out, he wouldn't finish. When he fucks, his stomach would touch your behind as you would clench down on him. Him hitting the spot would make you all cross eyed. The pain from hair pulling mixed perfectly with the pleasure.
The way you'd just cum when he guides you to ride him.
A one-shot. Porn w/ very little plot. 18+ ONLY, MDNI.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x you (fem)
Word Count: 3.7k
Summary: When a man insults you in a bar, Bucky loses all composure. He walks you home, and he doesn’t leave.
Trigger Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MDNI. Reader wears a dress and sorta regrets it; insult about weight; protective Bucky; possessive Bucky; fingering in front of a mirror (yes, with the metal hand); Oral (f receiving) P-in-V sex; “good girl”; (flesh) hand on your throat, but not choking
Author’s Note: This is curvy girl worship. With a tiny bit of plot. That is all. I liked the repeated line of "say it again", but with different tone based off who it was said to and why.
Masterlist
You shouldn’t have worn this dress.
That was the first thought that struck you when you walked into the bar with the team and felt every pair of eyes shift in your direction, including Bucky’s.
The fabric clung just a little tighter to your curves than usual. Not in a bad way, you liked the way it made you feel confident and feminine.
But the moment Bucky’s eyes raked over your figure and then flicked away like he’d been caught doing something dirty, your stomach twisted.
He’d barely said more than two words to you all night. He was nursing a whiskey, jaw tense, eyes darting to you every time he thought you weren’t looking. And you couldn’t help but think, maybe even hope, there was something more behind it than just his usual protectiveness.
A slow song hummed through the speakers, and the bar had taken on a low, golden glow that makes everything feel a little softer, a little slower. The team was laughing over some shared inside joke, and you were leaning on the edge of the high-top table, twirling your drink straw out of boredom.
That’s when a stranger approached.
He was tall and cocky and grinning like he thought he’d just stumbled onto something ripe for the picking.
“Didn’t think they let curves like that into places like this,” he slurred, eyes raking over you without an ounce of shame.
You rolled your eyes and started to turn away. Not worth it. You were used to this gross, lazy, unimaginative attention.
But then he leaned in, too close, and said low, under his breath: “Bet you’ve got more cushion than the couch at home.”
The glass in your hand froze midway to your lips. You blinked. Surely, he didn’t just say what you thought he said?
But then you heard a scrape of wood. The squeal of a chair sliding sharply against the floor.
And suddenly, Bucky was there.
His flesh hand landed firm and possessive on your waist, fingers pressing into your side. The black and gold vibrainium one was clenched at his side.
His jaw was tight. His voice, low and guttural, made the air chill.
“Say that again. I dare you.”
The guy blinked, confused, then smirked. “Whoa, man. Just a compliment.”
“That was not a compliment,” Bucky growled. “Apologize. Right now.”
The man’s bravado crumbled fast. He took one look at Bucky, shoulders squared, metal hand flexing, and raised both palms in surrender.
“Shit. Alright. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Not to me. To her!”
“Sorry, lady” the guy mumbled, backing off like a kicked dog.
Bucky didn’t move until he’d disappeared into the crowd. Then he turned toward you, eyes scanning your face with a mixture of concern and something deeper, darker.
“You okay?” he asked, his hand still on your waist.
You nodded, heart pounding, not from the confrontation, but from the fact that he was still touching you, still holding on like he didn’t trust the world not to come for you again.
“Bucky,” you whispered, not sure what you were about to say. Thank you? Let go? Kiss me?
But he was already pulling back, jaw clenched, eyes flicking toward the door.
“Let’s get out of here.”
You didn’t argue. You didn’t even say goodbye to the others.
You just followed him out into the night, the silence between you seething with all the things you weren’t saying.
*****
The night air wrapped around you, humid and heavy, nothing like the ice forming in your stomach from the way Bucky hadn’t said a single word since storming out of the bar.
Your heels clicked down the cracked pavement, each step bringing you closer to your apartment and the confrontation you weren’t sure you were ready for. His strides were long and stiff, his jaw ticking like he was chewing on a thousand unsaid things.
When you finally reached your front steps, you turned abruptly, blocking his path.
"Okay. What the hell was that?"
He stopped short, closer than he usually got. His eyes flicked up from your mouth to your eyes like he’d just realized how near he was.
"You shouldn’t let guys talk to you like that," he muttered, voice low and sharp.
You blinked. "I wasn’t. You just took care of it before I could even speak."
"Yeah. Because if I’d waited for him to speak again, I might’ve ripped his fucking throat out," he said, looking away.
You didn’t move. "Why, Bucky? You gonna fight every guy who looks at me sideways?"
His jaw clenched again. He looked like he wanted to walk away. Maybe he would have, but you pressed him again.
"Why does it matter so much to you?"
His eyes flickered. That sharp blue, glowing under the streetlamp like it burned with something unsaid.
"You really don’t know?"
He said it like a confession, like a sin.
"No," you whispered, breath caught.
He stepped forward, until your back hit the brick wall next to your front door. He placed one hand beside your head, the other ghosting down to your waist, fingers twitching just shy of your hip.
"I don’t wanna just be your friend," he said, voice a low, gritted growl. "I haven’t for a long time."
You blinked up at him, lips parted, heart thundering. His gaze dropped and lingered.
"You walked into that bar looking like that—" his eyes raked over you, "and I could barely fucking breathe. Do you even know what you do to me?"
Your breath hitched. “Bucky…”
He stepped even closer. Your bodies brushed, electricity crackling between you.
"You think I don’t see the way guys look at you?" His voice was almost a whisper now, like it hurt to say it. "Knowing they probably touch themselves to the thought of you?"
His fingers finally landed on your waist, pulling you into the heat of him.
"But they don’t get to touch you. Nobody gets to touch you but me."
The tether between you snapped in an instant. Your mouth collided with his, hands gripping the front of his shirt, dragging him closer. His kiss was feral, all teeth and tongue and desperation. He groaned into your mouth like he’d been starving for this, for you.
You opened the door behind you without looking and stumbled backward into the dark of your apartment. Bucky followed without letting go, slamming the door shut with his foot, never breaking the kiss.
Your back hit the wall again, and his hands roamed your waist, your hips, and your thighs. Big, rough palms that gripped you like he needed to feel every curve, every dip, every inch of you under his hands.
"Been thinking about this," he muttered against your lips, "for so long."
You moaned, arching into him. His thigh slid between yours instinctively, pinning you there.
“I dream about touching you here—" His hand slid down over your ass, squeezing hard. "—and here." His fingers skimmed between your thighs. You gasped.
"Bucky—"
“Say my name again like that,” he whispered darkly. “Say it like you want me.”
You whimpered his name again, breathless, and he lost all semblance of control, lifting you up without warning. Your legs wrapped around his waist, his mouth found your neck, and he groaned when he felt the skin there tremble under his tongue.
“I want to worship you,” he growled. “I want to ruin every thought you’ve ever had of another man.”
You pulled his face up to yours. "Then do it."
He carried you through the apartment like he was on a mission, lips never leaving yours except to whisper breathless, filthy things into your mouth between kisses.
“So fucking soft… I’ve dreamed of this body under mine. Every night.”
He laid you down on the couch like he meant every word.
Bucky straightened, eyes roaming over you with the reverence of a man who had waited far too long.
You tried to sit up, say something, anything, but he shook his head, kneeling between your legs and planting his metal hand flat on your belly to keep you still.
“Let me look at you.”
His hands moved like they’d been waiting years to do this—dragging up your thighs, your hips, over the dips and curves that made you you. He touched you like every inch mattered.
“Jesus,” he murmured. “You don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”
His eyes locked on your chest, the way your dress pushed against your skin from how hard you were breathing.
“I’ve fucked my hand to the thought of you more times than I can count.”
Your breath caught.
“Dreamed about how you'd feel. How you'd taste.”
He leaned forward, mouth dragging down your collarbone, biting gently, his stubble scraping just enough to make your toes curl.
You gasped when he tugged the straps of your dress down, exposing your bra, and when his tongue trailed along the edge of the cup, you nearly came undone right there.
“You think these curves should be hidden?” he growled. “Fuck no. These are mine.”
He peeled the rest of your dress off slowly, deliberately, his hands roaming your stomach, your hips, your thighs again like he was memorizing every contour.
“This is what my woman looks like. Christ, you’re everything I’ve wanted.”
Once you were stripped bare before him, nothing but bra and panties and nerves and desire, he stood and pulled you up into his arms again.
He carried you to your bedroom, kicked the door shut, and spun you to face the full-length mirror by your dresser. You opened your mouth to speak, but his hand slid up, gently wrapping around your throat, not choking, just holding you.
“Eyes up,” he said. “I want you to see what I see.”
You did. You saw your curves, your flushed cheeks, your kiss-swollen lips, and your trembling thighs.
And you saw Bucky behind you, eyes dark, chest heaving, hand on your throat like he owned you.
“You see that?” he whispered into your ear. “You make me insane.”
His metal hand moved over your stomach, down between your thighs, slow and firm.
“I’m gonna make you come like this. Watching yourself fall apart for me.”
Your head fell back slightly, and he squeezed your throat gently, just to make your body jolt and your breath catch.
“No, baby. Keep your eyes on the mirror. Watch how fucking beautiful you look when you come for me.”
His metal hand moved between your legs, fingers slipping past the damp lace, and you cried out, bracing yourself against the dresser. He kept whispering.
“That’s it. Moan for me. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”
His fingers circled slow and deliberate, not rushing, not teasing too cruelly, and using just enough pressure to make your hips twitch forward, chasing more. The metal was cool against your overheated skin at first, then warmed quickly from how slick you already were, how desperately your body responded to him.
“Look at yourself,” Bucky rasped, voice gravel-rough against the shell of your ear. His other hand, warm fleah, slid down from your neck to cup your breast, thumb brushing over the stiff peak through the thin lace still clinging there. “Look how your thighs shake. Look how wet you are for me already.”
You tried to obey, but the sight was almost too much: your lips parted on shallow pants, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling fast under his palm. And he was tall and broad and dark-eyed behind you, jaw locked like he was holding himself back from devouring you whole.
His fingers dipped lower, parting you, sliding through the slick heat until he found your clit and pressed, firm and perfect, and your knees buckled.
He caught you instantly, arm banding around your waist, metal forearm like an iron bar across your stomach.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured, lips brushing the sensitive spot behind your ear. “I’ve got you. Not letting you fall until I’ve wrung every sound out of you.”
Then he started moving his fingers again, slow, filthy circles that made your hips roll helplessly against his hand. Every pass sent sparks racing up your spine.
Your reflection showed everything: your mouth fell open wider, your back arched, pressing your ass back against the hard length straining behind his jeans.
“You feel that?” he growled, grinding forward so you could feel exactly how hard he was. “That’s what you do to me. Every time you walk past me in those tight little shorts. Every time you laugh at something stupid Sam says and your whole body lights up. I’ve been hard for you for months.”
A broken moan tore out of you. His fingers sped up just a little, still controlled, still precise, still torturing you in the best way.
“Tell me,” he demanded softly. “Tell me you’ve thought about this too.”
“I—I have,” you gasped, voice cracking. “So many times. In the shower… in bed… thinking about your hands… your mouth…”
His growl vibrated through your back. “Good girl.”
The praise hit you like a drug. Your thighs trembled harder; you were so close already, embarrassingly close, and he knew it.
“Don’t hold back,” he ordered, voice dropping lower. “I want to feel you come all over my fingers. I want to watch your face when you do. Want to see those pretty eyes roll back while you say my name.”
His thumb replaced his fingers on your clit with steady relentless pressure, while two metal digits slid inside you, thick and unyielding, curling just right.
“So goddamn tight. You’re dripping. You want me inside you this bad?”
“Yes,” you replied, breathless and close. “I want you,” you gasped. “I need you—Bucky—”
The stretch, the cool-warm contrast, the way he knew exactly where to press, shattered you.
“That’s it,” he breathed, lips against your neck, teeth grazing. “Give it to me. Let go, baby. Come for me. Right here. Right now. Watching yourself fall apart on my hand.”
Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up. “Bucky—” Your voice broke on his name, high and desperate.
The orgasm hit hard and sudden, ripping through you like wildfire. Your back bowed, head tipping back against his shoulder, mouth open in a silent scream that quickly turned into his name, over and over, broken and pleading. Your walls clenched around his fingers, pulsing, slick running down his hand as your legs shook violently.
He didn’t stop moving. He worked you through it, slow and deep, drawing it out until you were whimpering, until every nerve felt raw and electric.
When the last tremor finally eased, he eased his fingers out gently, brought them to his mouth, and sucked them clean with a low, satisfied groan that made fresh heat coil in your belly.
Then he turned you in his arms, slow and careful, like you were something precious.
His eyes were molten, pupils so wide the blue was almost gone.
He kissed you, slow this time, deep and claiming, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
When he pulled back to speak, his voice was wrecked.
“We’re not done.”
He lifted you again, effortlessly, legs wrapping around his waist like they’d found their new home.
“I’m gonna lay you down on that bed,” he promised against your lips, already walking you toward it, “and I’m gonna lick you until you’re crying for me to let you come again.”
He dropped you gently onto the mattress and stripped quickly, shirt first, then belt and pants. When you saw the hunger in his eyes and the ache on his face, you knew this was going to be a long night. When he was finally naked, hard length on full display, he followed you down onto the bed, caging you with his body.
He reached one hand behind your back and unclasped your bra with annoying ease.
His mouth found your breast first, hot, open-mouthed, and with no hesitation.
He sucked the peak between his lips with a low, greedy sound that vibrated straight down to your core. The flat of his tongue dragged over your nipple in slow, deliberate circles before he pulled harder, teeth grazing just enough to make your back bow off the mattress. Your fingers twisted in his hair, holding him there, urging him on.
“God, these,” he rasped against your skin, voice muffled as he moved to the other side. “Been staring at them for months under every damn shirt you own. Wanted my mouth on them so bad it hurt.”
He latched on again, sucking deep, tongue flicking relentlessly until the sensation blurred into something sharp and electric. Your hips rolled up instinctively, seeking friction, but he pinned you down with one heavy forearm across your stomach, metal cool against your overheated skin.
“Stay still, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing wetly over the swell of your breast. “Let me take my time. I’ve waited too long to rush tasting every inch of you.”
He kissed lower, slow, open-mouthed trails down the curve of your stomach, nipping at the soft flesh there, groaning like the taste of your skin alone was enough to unravel him. When he reached the apex of your thighs, he didn’t tease long; he simply pulled your panties down your legs, spread you wider with both hands and buried his face between your thighs.
The first long, slow lick made your whole body jolt.
He groaned into you, the sound vibrating through your clit as his tongue flattened and dragged up again, savoring. Then he focused, circling, flicking, sucking gently, until your thighs clamped around his head and your hands fisted the sheets so hard your knuckles ached.
“Bucky—please—”
He pulled back just enough to speak, lips glistening, eyes wild. “You taste like heaven. You taste like you’re mine.”
Then he dove back in, relentless, until the second orgasm crashed over you, harder than the first, thighs shaking, back arching off the bed, his name torn from your throat in a sob.
He didn’t give you time to come down.
He crawled back up your body, kissing every mark he’d left, collarbone, breasts, the sensitive spot under your jaw, until his mouth found yours again. You could taste yourself on his tongue, salty and musky, and it only made you hungrier.
He settled between your thighs, thick and heavy against your entrance, but he didn’t push in yet. Instead he rocked slowly, sliding the length of him through your slick folds, coating himself, teasing your oversensitive clit with every pass until you were whimpering into his mouth.
“Look at me,” he ordered softly.
Your eyes fluttered open. His were dark, reverent, almost pained with how much he wanted you.
“I need to see your face when I’m finally inside you.”
You nodded, breathless.
He reached between you, notched himself at your entrance, and pushed in, slow, inch by devastating inch.
The stretch was exquisite, thick, hot, and perfect. Your walls fluttered around him, still pulsing from the aftershocks, and he hissed through clenched teeth, forehead dropping to yours.
He bottomed out with a low groan that rumbled through both of you, hips flush to yours, holding there for a long moment like he needed to feel every heartbeat wrapped around him.
“Say it again.”
You gasped, confused for half a second, then realized what reassurance he needed to hear, “I want you,” you breathed. “Only you. Always you.”
Then he started to move.
Deep, rolling thrusts, slow at first, letting you feel every ridge, every vein, every drag as he pulled almost all the way out and sank back in. The friction was maddening; the angle perfect, hitting that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
“Fuck… so tight. So wet. You feel better than I dreamed.”
Your legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, urging him deeper. He obliged, pace building, hips snapping harder, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room along with your shared moans.
“Feel that?” he growled against your ear, one hand sliding under your ass to lift you higher, changing the angle so he drove even deeper. “That’s me claiming every fucking part of you.”
You could only gasp his name, nails raking down his back, leaving red trails he’d wear like badges of honor tomorrow.
He shifted again, hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, opening you wider, and the new depth made you cry out.
“Right there,” he rasped, watching your face with something close to obsession. “Right fucking there. You’re gonna come again—gonna come all over my cock while I watch.”
His metal hand found your clit, thumb circling in time with his thrusts, firm, steady, and merciless.
The pressure built fast, coiling tight and hot in your belly.
“Bucky—I’m—”
“I know, doll. I can feel you squeezing me. Come for me. Let me feel it.”
The orgasm ripped through you like a storm, white-hot, blinding, your whole body locking around him as you pulsed and clenched and sobbed his name. Your vision tunneled; all you could feel was him, thick and relentless, still driving into you through the waves, drawing it out until tears slipped down your temples.
He followed seconds later.
His rhythm stuttered, hips slamming deep one last time as he buried himself to the hilt and came with a broken groan, hot pulses filling you, his whole body trembling against yours.
He collapsed over you, careful not to crush you, face buried in your neck, breathing ragged.
For long minutes neither of you moved, there was just the sound of your hearts hammering, skin slick with sweat, his softening length still inside you like he couldn’t bear to leave.
Finally he lifted his head, brushed damp hair from your face, and kissed you slow and soft and a little tender.
“You’re mine,” he whispered, voice wrecked and reverent. “No more pretending. No more watching from across the room.”
You smiled against his lips, boneless and blissed-out.
“About damn time, Bucky.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, then rolled to the side, pulling you with him so you were tucked against his chest, legs tangled, his hand splayed possessively over the curve of your hip.
“Get used to it,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple. “I’m not letting you go.”
And as his heartbeat steadied under your cheek, warm and steady, you knew he meant every word.
WC: 1,226 | AO3 link
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Caleb x fem!reader
Summary: Caleb strokes his cock whilst watching you try on all the various outfits you bought with his money that day.
Tags & CWs: heavy pseudo-incest, masturbation, pearl necklace, Caleb's POV, they're both as perverted as each other
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idk what happened this wasn't supposed to be this long pfff
"So I wasn't really sure about this one. The shoulders seemed a little too...poofy?" Caleb watches you twist and turn in front of the mirror to see yourself from all angles. "What do you think?"
You turn around, waiting for Caleb's assessment.
"No no, it looks - mm - it looks real nice on you." He says, looking you up and down appreciatively from his place on the edge of the bed.
"Do you really have to do that every time I show you the outfits I bought?" You sigh at him, pointedly looking down to where he's languidly stroking his cock. "You're such a pervert."
"What," he says with a breathy chuckle. "It's like you're putting on a show for me. I've course I'm gonna jerk off."
You roll your eyes and go to grab your next dress.
"Plus," he mutters to himself when you're out of earshot. "Maybe I get off on my little sister spoiling herself with my money."
He'd never let you know but he's also getting to live out his childhood dream. Back when you'd do this as teenagers, he'd have to sit with a pillow over his crotch and wait until he could rush to the bathroom to pathetically spill himself into a tissue when all he wanted to do was stroke himself as he watched you try on a multitude of short skirts and thigh-high socks. He always wondered whether you knew what you were doing back then, or if you were still so oblivious to your feelings that you really did just want to show your brother your new clothes.
"What about this one?" He looks up as you reappear from the walk-in closet, now wearing a cute red dress with a white lace trim. And a skirt so short he gets a glimpse of your ass when you do a little twirl for him.
"Oooh yeah," he moans, fist squeezing tighter around his cock. "I like that one. Can already see myself bending you over the kitchen table and flippin' up that lil skirt of yours."
Yep, he definitely wants to fuck you in that one. He'll be making sure you wear some little shorts with it when you wear it out though. No one else gets to see his sister like that.
He can't help but pump his fist harder up and down his cock at how adorable you look. The pre-cum's been oozing from his tip for a while now so his hand's gliding with ease and making quiet schlick-schlick-schlick noises with each stroke.
"Okay, I'll keep this one too." You don't even pay attention to what he's doing, you're probably so used to it by now that's it's become second nature. "I have two more things to show you, just a couple of lingerie sets."
Fuck yes. His favourite part of the show.
You disappear around the corner again and the sound of bags being emptied out onto the floor drift through into the bedroom.
"This set isn't anything fancy," you shout out to him. "But it was comfy so I got it."
Caleb doesn't mind, he doesn't care for the fancier lingerie. He finds himself more drawn to the innocent look. Reminds him of the stuff he used to find in the laundry when you were younger.
When you return you're in a simple white bra and panty set with cute little bows adorned on the front. Caleb's cock jumps in his hand. Yeah, he definitely prefers this kind.
"Looks s-soft." He mutters, hips starting to buck up a little into his hand to fuck his fist. "God, you look - hng - you look so cute."
"Thanks!" You beam at him, still not looking down at his cock. "I thought so too!"
He wonders if it's weird; that it actually makes him harder with you refusing to acknowledge how he sits there half-naked, tugging on his cock. You're not even doing anything sexual, you're just trying on outfits, that's it. And yet every time he can't help but shove his hand down his boxers and pathetically get himself off.
He watches you give yourself another quick once over before skipping back to the closet, presumably to change into your last set.
Caleb waits patiently, bringing himself closer and closer to the edge. You usually save the best 'til last, he suspects you do that deliberately. You may play innocent but you know exactly what you're doing.
"I also got this super cute one, look, it's got apples on it!" You bounce back into the bedroom. "Not as cute as Sunny Apple, of course, but still."
"Oh f-fuck..." He groans. His little sister looks so fucking cute he can't stand it and, shit, he might come soon.
Not yet, not yet, not yet he prays in his head. He's not ready, he wants to take you all in before blowing his load. He wants to appreciate how the colour compliments your skin, how it shows off your breasts perfectly and, fuck, how your stiff little nipples poke through the thin material of them.
He's vaguely aware of how he's panting like a dog. He focuses on the head of his cock where he's the most sensitive, his hand giving quick but firm strokes, and he can feel his balls jiggle with each tug.
"You wanna come over my tits?" You ask excitedly, bounding over and dropping down to your knees in front of him, settling yourself between his spread legs.
Caleb whimpers and shuts his eyes. Okay yeah, he's definitely going to come soon.
"Don't w-wanna ruin - haah - ruin your bra." He says, voice whiny and shaky as he desperately tries to hold off coming for as long as he can.
"It's okay, I bought two sets 'cause they were so cute." He watches as you shuffle forward on your knees a little, practically presenting your tits for him. "Plus I'd kinda considered making myself come while wearing a pair and then giving you my cum-soaked panties as a little gift."
After all this time he still can't tell whether you do this on purpose - say the filthiest of things in the most innocent of ways. Like you're talking about what you did that day and not how you want your brother to defile you.
And there's absolutely nothing he can do to stop the torrent of cum that suddenly erupts from his cock, splattering against your chest and dripping down to slip into your cleavage.
"Oh sh-shit." He chokes out with a groan and the cum just keeps coming. "Oooh god, that's good, that's so fucking good, holy shit."
Caleb keeps going, whimpering and trembling until he's milked out every drop. His cock pulses in his hand, knuckles covered in cum, and he stares at the beautiful mess before him.
"Fuck...you look so fuckin' good with my cum all over you." If his phone was nearby he'd take a photo for sure.
He looks down at you kneeling there with your proud little grin.
"You know," Caleb says, still trying to regain his breath. "You may call me a pervert," He drags a finger through the cum on your chest and brings it up to your mouth. "But we both know you're as bad as me."
Two days later he finds a pretty pair of apple-patterned panties sticky with cum on his pillow.
I'm not usually into the 'pathetic guy' characteristic/trope but, man, do I enjoy it for Caleb.
I currently have a prompt list you can make requests from! Go check it out here ☺️
Your legs gave out three rounds ago, unable to support your weight under the relentless pleasure Caleb gave you. You lost count of how many times you'd come between his hands, his mouth, and now his cock. Each thrust of his fat cock echoes throughout the room in wet, squelching sounds in a mix of your desire, come, and his.
You fist the sheets below you, desperate for something to tether you to reality, to this moment, to keep you grounded in the unending sensation and presence of Caleb looming above you. Each time you tried to close your eyes, he grabbed your face and squeezed, making you look back up at him, into that beautiful violet gaze that never left your face.
Caleb watches every shift of your expression, every subtle change that comes with each roll of his hips, each peak of pleasure, and how you writhe under the burn of overstimulation. Yet, he never lets you go, keeping you in place, keeping your attention only on him.
Hot, thick tears pool in the corners of your eyes. The sensation is simply too much. You're too full, the slick drag of his cock against your insides is overwhelming. Your bodies are covered in sweat, the pendant of his necklace hitting your chest as he fucks into you, hard, fast, and so fucking deep. Caleb is everywhere. All you can see. Those big arms caging you under him, keeping you so, so full and unable to escape him or the pleasure he gave you.
A rough thrust, and you come, again, unable to stop it. The tears fall free, and you cling to him as you sob out his name, unable to stop the noise or the rush of tears that spring forward now that the damn has burst. They rain down your cheeks, to your lips, back down your ears, entirely soaking your face by the time your orgasm wanes.
He kisses you. Messy, needy, hungry. Like you are the air he breaths. When he pulls away, he licks the tears off your cheek and groans. "That's right, cry for Gege."
And you do, the tears coming faster. You're unable to stop them, unable to get a grip on yourself. Every thrust gives Caleb another one of your pathetic, needy sobs. You're begging, though what for, you aren't sure. To stop? To continue? To feel him come inside you? All of the above? It's hard to say. You simply feel everything. Lost in sensation.
Caleb chuckles. "Look at you, poor little thing. Cryin' already and I'm nowhere near done with you yet. Is this really all you can take, Pips? What happened to that attitude?"
The degrading tone of his voice, the chuckle, and the rough, endless thrusts have you clamping and sobbing around him again, close. Hypersensitive and overwhelmed, all you can do is cling to him and sob. He licks up the other cheek, gathering your salty tears. His had grabs your jaw, forcing your mouth open, and he spits into your mouth.
You gasp, your jaw closing, and he lightly slaps your cheek. Just enough to capture your attention. "Swallow."
You swallow, and Caleb groans, closing the distance once again and giving you a sloppy, messy kiss.
Neither of you are stopping anytime soon.
this came to be bc I was working on crying kink headcannons (will be up in a few days!!!) and...well...I got possessed by a demon that Gilly encouraged. Happy Birthday bestie!!!! I hope you enjoy your lil birthday cupcake!!!!
You try to take back your freedom from Diluc in a failed attempt to escape as retribution. Only do you see then that Freedom and Retribution, when mixed, spark a flame stronger than Hell’s.
Yandere! Diluc x Reader
Cw: burning body. 1.3k words.
When Freedom has allowed the perpetrator to deeply offend and hurt Diluc, Retribution becomes his god. The fire of his phoenix does not need the oxygen in Barbatos’ wind and air to burn the path leading to vengeance. It only requires anger for fuel.
And currently, he is beyond angry with you.
It would have been another quiet night in Mondstadt had you stayed by Diluc’s side in the warmth of your bed, in the warmth of his manor; instead, the frosty howling winds of Dragonspine are what kiss and nip at your skin. The stinging cold would have been better than his hot breath had he not so quickly found you.
He stands there a few meters away dressed in a long, heavy wool coat that makes him appear twice his already large size. His body is fairly still while his Vision, revealed by the belt of his coat which has come undone, pulsates as the only source of light beside the moon. Pyro waiting to be unleashed illuminates the snowflakes swirling his legs in a bloody red. He does not speak. He only heaves heavily as he wedges the tip of his claymore further in between two snow-covered rocks to keep him steady. His hot breath immediately turns into puffs of visible air that dissipate into the atmosphere. Surely, the impromptu hike was a troublesome ordeal in the ceaseless blizzards that kill all that wish to live. Retribution is, however, something Diluc would dance with Death for.
You had only wanted Freedom. That was, as a resident of Mondstadt, your only crime. None believed your attempts to expose your husband for his possessive and restrictive behaviour. None could ever suspect their beloved friend, boss, brother, or former colleague could cage in his home like a bird the person he loves most, the person he always speaks so highly of, the person he does everything for. They have all drunk his wine made from the grapes he crushes beneath his feet. Superficial appearances built upon his socio-economic power are detrimental to your attempted revelations of the horrors that lie inside manor walls where your every move is watched and reported by maids loyal to him. Speaking to other men is impossible; not even friends nor family can access you without his intervention. It is all to keep you, in his words, safe from the influence of bad and potentially bad people. He has suffered betrayal too many times. If he can prevent such a fate with the one he loves most—
Diluc watches, like a wild boar does its prey, as you back further into the cave as though it were a cage that could keep you safer than your home.
—he will do whatever is in his power to smother your spark.
It is no wonder you turned to the gods; they were all you had left. In your belief, the mountains were the safest haven to ask for and to obtain the right of Freedom which had become a privilege when Diluc had first set his sights upon you, for the cold would presumably deter anything which burned passionately, like his love. Dragonspine’s peak was the closest you could reach for Celestia where Barbatos surely lives, and upon reaching it, you would call out his name in a desperate prayer.
“Save me, my Lord,” Diluc repeats what he had heard you say moments before in a mocking voice so quiet, you can barely hear through the wind’s cries. “From this terrible monster.”
A part of you knew you would never make it to the peak. Not because of the sheer cold, nor the Fatui soldiers and hilichurls you barely made it past on slippery trails covered in permafrost, but because of Diluc’s determination. Nonetheless, you and Diluc are quite similar in that respect. Determination is what Diluc had once admired in you when he had yet to call you his. That fire in your eyes paired with the passion in your heart burned so brightly that he was the moth to your flame. You are his sun, his whole world. That is why you knew it was unlikely for you to reach the peak. Your determination for Freedom is, however, something you would dance with Death for.
You feel something against your back as you slowly retreat further into the cave. There follows a loud thud. Oil paints of all primary colours bleed from opened cans onto the stone ground where brushes lay sporadically and aimlessly as if exhausted from being dragged against canvases. The paints mix into varied colours, and in some areas, muddle into brown. This is the vacant campsite of the alchemist and artist Albedo which you have unknowingly sought refuge in.
“You cause disaster wherever you go.” Diluc steps forward with his claymore as a cane. His voice is clearer this time. “I’m fairly certain it’s your curse. You curse me.”
Any vulgar warning and pathetic plea escaping your lips to leave you alone falls on deaf ears. He continues to approach you in a slow, steady manner unlike the raging fire from his claymore had as it lit his path to you in the darkness of night.
You look around the cave’s interior dimly lit by tabletop lamps. Miscellaneous items for alchemical and artistic purposes decorate the tables. Flasks, vials, rulers, pencils, and canvases with flying birds painted on them. You throw whatever you can at him and at his feet to deter him from entering the cave, so when you grab a glass Erlenmeyer flask with an unknown liquid inside, you do not think before you act.
Fire becomes all there is. It spreads rapidly in streams inside the cave but embers fear the blizzard where Diluc stands outside. Flames catch onto the fabric of your clothes, fire eats at your frost-bitten flesh. Your screams breathe to life the inferno that burns to death Diluc’s soul and heart just from witnessing it. Corrosive, oxidizing acid and oil paint do well to emulate hellfire.
You jump around frantically to free yourself of the flames. This is your dance with Death and the music which accompanies you are Diluc’s shouts and the blizzard’s howling in a harmonious symphony.
Between fire and snow, you must choose. Corrupted Freedom in Death or in Diluc’s arms?
Choice, however, is a freedom you do not have.
Diluc pulls you out of the flames with bare hands when you stumble close enough to the cave’s entrance. Quickly, in arms that cage your body, he wraps his wool coat around you to successfully smother the flames. Snowflakes sizzle and burn exposed skin where fire fueled by oil once raged. Your knees buckle but he catches you before the snow at your feet could hurt you anymore than the fire has.
“I’ve got you now! You’re safe!” He chokes on his sobs as he tries to hug you with burnt hands despite all the pain that shoots up his arms. He leans his head downwards to kiss your head before stopping when he sees how the fire has scorched the hair off your scalp. The damage inflicted upon you as a result of rejecting his pursuit, his desire, his love, pains his heart more than his burns for a moment. He is a monster, and he cannot help but cry harder. “I love you—I love you so much! Don’t ever leave me, don’t ever die on me! I won’t let you!”
In burning yourself, you have put out the fuel that is his anger.
“Barbatos could never take you from me.”
In your peripheral vision, miraculously preserved, you see the flames continue to engulf the campsite.
Only then do you remember there are no gods in Hell.
A/N: I originally wanted Diluc to roll you and himself in the snow to put out the flames but then I remembered snow is water and this is an oil fire…so instead, I gave him a wool coat to keep him warm in Dragonspine’s eternal winter since wool is fire-resistant. I hope this is all correct in chemical terms…but if it's not, oh well, Teyvat has its own laws, right? Also, please do not use this fanfic as a way to understand how to put out grease fires. This is fanFICTION!
Disclaimer: yandere fanfiction is not meant to be taken seriously, nor is it a portrayal of love/romance.
Pronouns used: they/them
CW: mentions of dying, normal yandere stuff yk
Nickname(s) used: my love, beloved
Notes: trying to get back to writing again, might be ooc, you and Xiao are dating
SEND REQUESTS TO PINNED POST!
ORIGINALLY FROM MY TIKTOK BUT REWORKED IT!
He's deathly afraid of losing you in any way, shape or form and that includes you dying. He doesn't want to lose you, no matter what, so he's EXTREMELY protective of you. He's always ready to fight for you and will always appear when you speak his name, it doesn't matter how you say it, you could whisper his name or shout it from the rooftops and he'd appear, though it always catches you off guard. He always says "You called, my love?"
Sometimes you two will both watch the sky in comfortable silence and he would NEVER admit it, but he loves it when you doze off and rest your head on his shoulder, he becomes hyper aware of the area and his protective vibe amplifies.
One day, you told Xiao that you were going to Dihua Marsh to just go outside and Xiao trusted you, so he nods. "Alright. Be careful and speak my name if something unexpected happens. I'll have my Jade Spear ready to protect you." You nod and happily walk outside with no destination in mind. After walking, you see a bush of Silk Flowers and you walk towards it and start to walk towards the bush and reach towards the flowers. You look directly in front of you, making the realization that you wandered into a Treasure Hoarder camp without even knowing it!
You remain still, but little did you know that Xiao was nearby, watching you from the shadows. He grips onto his Jade Spear and his eyes glow (ngl that would be horrifying if I saw that irl) brightly. He continues to observe you as one of the Treasure Hoarders sees you, a person who accidentally wandered into a Treasure Hoarder campsite. "What do you think you're doing, wandering into our campsite like this? Are you looking for a fight?" One of them asks.
You gasp and shake your head worriedly. "I-I don't want to cause any trouble! I just saw these Silk Flowers and I wanted to pick them for my-" You start to say and the Treasure Hoarder looks at you and immediately cuts you off. "Tch, likely story. Have a little taste of what happens when you infiltrate our campsite." They raise their shovel at you and you gasp and immediately shout his name and the Treasure Hoarder laughs. "Shouting for him? He doesn't answer for just anybody, y'know. He wouldn't appear for just some random-" Xiao appears and looks at the Treasure Hoarders. "You called, Y/N." Xiao says as he looks at you for any visible injuries. Once he sees that you have none, all he has to do is just... glare at them menacingly with his glowing eyes and they get absolutely scared, fleeing instantly (lmao).
What I imagine Xiao would look like if his eyes were glowing. (Credit to genshinimpactxd1650 on TT!)
Xiao hates to see you upset, so he makes a reminder to "take care" of them at night when you're in Wangshu Inn as safe as can be. "I'm glad to see that you're alright. Why would they approach you?" He asks as he cautiously watches you. You shrug. "I'm not sure, but I just want to go home..." Xiao looks at you, still slightly spooked and holds your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, his way of saying "everything's okay, you're with me and I will keep you safe, my love".
Night eventually approaches and you calm down, remembering that Xiao has to go and protect Liyue at night. "Duty calls, my love, stay here and rest for the night, I'll be back before you know it. Rest well." He lightly kisses your forehead and catches one last glimpse of you before quietly heading out, first targets are the Treasure Hoarders that belittled you today. Xiao explores the area and quickly finds the treasure hoarders, they stick out like a sore thumb because most Treasure Hoarders aren't dumb enough to exist near Wangshu Inn if they value their life.
Xiao's eyes do that glowing thing again upon recognition. The Treasure Hoarders see a specific spear glowing in the moonlight and they turn around, only to see glowing eyes and the Jade Spear. "Hey there, you two seem familiar, it's a pleasure to run into you both again. Do you recognize me? You threatened my beloved earlier today. An unwise move."
Before they can respond, Xiao basically does his Elemental Burst and they go silent IMMEDIATELY.
"This wouldn't have have happened if they didn't threaten Y/N like that."
❝ YOU WERE NEVER TRULY THEIRS TO BEGIN WITH! AND THEY WERE NEVER TRULY YOURS TOO!— BUT I AM! I AM YOURS! I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN AND ALWAYS WILL BE YOURS! ❞
Pairing: Yandere Lohen x Childhood Friend &. Hopeless Romantic GN Reader.
Warnings: Lohen himself, Massive guilt tripping, Lohen being a scum to your dating pool and torturing and killing people behind your back, Also Lohen threatening to off himself, Blood, Betrayal, Minor Character Death. This is only a short synopsis.
Taglist: Depends!
Note: This is just the synopsis/premise I made. Lohen is an asshole. But I kind of fell for that asshole. I imagine him to be kind of submissive to your whims. As in totally up to fake a date with you and tease you for being too flustered over something that isn't real (it is to him). But also the same guy who'll legitimately stab a guy specifically 59 times just because he said exactly 59 words to capture your attention. He's that petty. But also pretty. Get what I mean? I write more yandere stuff here by the way.
Lohen doesn't know how to deal with his ever growing affection for his childhood sweetheart. Likewise, he doesn't know how to cope with the anticipatory fear of losing you even more. In his mind, all that ever existed, all that ever mattered was you, your feelings for him, and being together until both your hairs would turn gray.
It was fate. It was a promise you've entrusted to one another ever since you both were kids, hidden under your blankets, uncaring for the warmth smoldering your bodies, faces illuminated only by the lantern you've stolen from your father's desk.
"If I don't get married before thirty, then you'll be my husband instead, Lohen. So you've got to promise me, okay!?"
He agreed, mindless and bored, thinking it's all just some childish fantasy you'll soon forget.
But it never was. The prospect of marriage and love, and safety and security, to you, was as sacred as your friendship with the knight. The longer the seasons had passed, the more you were desperate to settle down, the more, it seems, Lohen himself had found entangled in a web of great jealousy watching your hopeful eyes sparkle at any person, any knight or any passing traveler who'd give you attention longer even a second.
He thought he'd buried that promise all those years ago. He focused more on the future, on staggering missions, basking on the screams of victims echoing through the night. The blood on his hands and the poison in his vials should've been enough to quell the developing affections seizing him of breath.
Lohen had never intended to have those words — "marry", "husband", and most importantly "you" —to be injected into his very thoughts like slithering snakes after all these years. Lohen had never wanted for somebody to become the sole purpose of him achieving his goals.
He had never wanted to be consumed by raging feelings for you.
But unlike the others, unlike the knights who'd stumble in their steps at the sight of him, unlike the enemies whose weapons would quiver in their grip, who'd befall on their knees and at his feet; all the spilled glory and the reckless fights he believed he loved the most would never come close to you—
In fact, they all come last.
All of them.
Like the heads of countless hilichurls he'd stomp under his boots. Like the limbs of potential lovers he'd twist and turn to ungodly angles, like their pallid skin he'd carve with his poisoned dagger. All followed by verbal warnings, a wave of assault on their ribs, until his boots would nearly crush their fragile, beating hearts. Enough to line their bloodshot eyes with those ugly, salty tears. Enough to trade a promise to never look at you no more. Let alone taste your name on their vile, bleeding tongues.
The days you complained about your talent for scaring off the people you like to a knowing Lohen were all dismissed by your valiant knight with a kiss of his teeth and assurance of another 'maybe next time'. A joke here, a smack on his shoulder there, and the flutter of your lighthearted laugh fluttering through the wind. A laugh he'd heard a thousand times, locked in his heart and replayed every time the distance between you two was far greater than the width of a fingertip. It was a laugh he wished was only reserved to him.
Deep down, he knew your smiles were just a facade. You'd been melting into the walls of your home, shoving yourself in corners and wondering what went wrong with you. Why nobody ever seemed to approach you anymore.
All those times, you find yourself running to Lohen. You joked he was the only one brave enough to tolerate your curse. That he may truly be the man you're going to marry. It's pitiful. You're pitiful and full of doubts he wished to wash away with his hungry lips.
Maybe he feels an ounce of regret for killing them all before you could even say yes to their offers of a date.
In truth, he doesn't at all.
Because Lohen doesn't mind being your only source of comfort.
Not when his head finds itself laying comfortably on your shoulders after every advice given, glimmering eyes and soulless smiles staring back at another of your failed suitors quivering under his gaze from a far distance.
Everybody knew about the Vice Captain's crush on you. Everybody knew backing off of your tail was the only option for survivability. It was an unspoken rule to never approach the infamous Lohen's beloved muse unless they want tragedy to befall upon them.
Everybody except for one unfortunate soul.
When there came a threat of a suitor — a lowly knight working under his faction even, who dared to ask for your hand, who dare kiss the very same fingers he'd lovingly held every since you two were nothing but reckless kids who only ever had each other, who dare stare into the eyes he'd dreamt of drowning in every night— who somehow slipped beneath his gaze, found itself courting you in your own home in front of your own family...
Lohen realized scaring off your admirers was nothing but an effort that bore no fruit as long as you were drawn to a scum's empty promises of a future.
Lohen realized all it took was one measly gun pointed at his skull, a dagger on his bleeding heart, the stench of blood seeping on carpeted floors, and the looming threat of your childhood best friend's death on your hands for you to swear your undying fealty to him...
After all, he couldn't bring himself to break his promise now, could he?
Just a small piece of writing I did, wondering how would the yanderes react to the reader. Originally I hope to make this a comedian but it failed I guess
>> May contain disturbing content such as manipulation and gaslighting, I might rewrite it as well since the result did not satisfy me.
PHAINON
this man is absolutely devastated that all this time you see him as a friend and not as a partner or you show interest in romance.
he would act as an understanding guy but deep down he is absolutely yearning for you.
every time he tried to initiate any romantic acts or intimacy, it would often be met with rejection or you seem to not understand the mood.
He is absolutely whipped for you but couldn't say the same thing for you.
He would not try to force you to do anything, but don't blame him–being in your presence makes him fall harder.
.MYDEI
Mydei would be respectful towards your distance because he himself is not a person who is awkward with affection and believing that the same goes for you.
But when he's been getting signs of you being uninterested in romance as well as seeing him as nothing but a friend is heartbreaking for him.
Despite all that, he would try to be respectful towards your boundaries. It hurts him more when you admit you see him as a friend.
But now he doesn't have to worry about an opponent or someone trying to steal you away because you are not interested in any way.
He would only express his affection by simply caressing your face with his hand and looking at you as if you are his world.
JINGYUAN
He already sees it from miles away, and manages to find a way to trick the system as well as you. Despite your relationship isn't romantic in your sense, because he expresses through words–many would assume you are married for being together for so long.
Many of the luofu would assume that you guys are already together thanks to Jing yuan capabilities of making that illusion. Not to mention, helping him raise yanqing
You assume that you and him are just close companions, he managed to keep up this facade for centuries.
Honestly it's like a divorce parenting to be honest, while you live separately from Jing yuan–yanqing would often rush towards your house to spend the weekend or go crying to you after a rough day.
Even though you are not interested, why don't you just let him live in his delusions.
DILUC
Diluc admits he has a hard time letting people in but that all changes after you come in, he is still closed off with people but he would be absolutely happy to see you because your presence makes his day happy.
You would often help him in angel share and paper work as an assistant which lifts up the burdens of the day.
He truly was in love with you, a type of love who would burn everything away to protect you and keep you with him.
Another phainon. Diluc would be devastated that you only see him as a friend and is not interested in any romance in the current moment, he did not get it but he has to come to terms with it since you keep rejecting it.
Diluc would still be in denial, but he would still take care of you making sure you are not in harm's way. If he can't have you, why not keep you close.
ALHAITHAM
You were his roommate yet act as a married couple, you know his schedule and would take care of everything. Honestly kaveh was shocked that you and alhaitham aren't married.
Honestly it seems like the border of a friendship and relationship have blurred due to both of you always seems busy and not questioning the other one whenever it's a relationship.
You asked whether or not he likes you and alhaitham stopped reading his book and looked at you saying that you guys are.
Unfortunately you shatter the domestic atmosphere because you replied to his answer saying that you are not interested in him or in any romantic relationship. You only saw him as a Friend, which sealed the coffin.
Although he himself is not interested in romantic relationships back then, he was already trying to take this relationship a shot after realizing it. So the daily routine continues with you unaware of what alhaitham is olanning
ZHONGLI
Throughout liyue rich history, as well as myth about their archon rex lapis. One of the crowd favorites are the geo archon with his beloved who is an adeptus.
Unfortunately that wasn't the case with you and zhongli, even though you have been on his side for thousands of years–you remain neutral with him.
Couldn't say the same thing because zhongli have fallen badly for you and wish to propose but it seems it's not working.
You tried to express your concern and annoyance towards your old friends about liyue keep calling you as rex lapis beloved even though you didn't show any interest in zhongli so you wonder how can the people liyue come to that conclusion.
Meanwhile, zhongli for centuries have been telling tales and carving artifacts of your love so that it can make an illusion of you guys being together.
The moment Vice Captain Lohen laid his eyes on you, it felt like everything shifted. You get promoted, you get more attention from him, and whenever there’s an expedition or a mission, he commands that you stay by his side and his only. Don’t even bother approaching the other knights or the Grandmaster, because after all, he’s your captain.
“Be quiet for me, hm? You can do that, right?” he whispers, brushing his lips against your earlobes. You nod your head, biting your lip to stop the whimper threatening to spill from your lips.
But oh, Lohen adores the sounds you make. Unfortunately, he has you pinned against the wall—at the back of the headquarters. You hear some Knights walking around, questioning where you two disappeared off to.
Lohen can’t help himself. Not when you looked so, so pretty, walking around with your new uniform, catching everyone’s attention—even the Honorary Knight. Of course, as your vice captain, Lohen can’t afford that right? You’re not allowed to slack off, not when everyone’s trying to flirt with you. So fucking annoying, he thinks. Another compliment from Varka, and he’s close to using everyone as his shooting mannequin.
You bit your lip so hard, it stings. “Awh, my baby’s lips are bleeding… i’ll help you wipe it off.”
His hands wrap tightly around your wrists, pinning them on top of your head. Lohen’s lips ghost against yours—he pauses before licking your bleeding lips, tasting and savoring them. You flinch, not because it hurts, but because the feeling of his tongue feels good
“That was meant to be a kiss, but oh well.” He kisses weirdly. Lohen chuckles, catching you off guard. “You taste great. Can I have more?”
This was a scenario that you’d experience every time you entered work. And it might be weird—to have an inappropriate yet complex relationship with your Vice Captain, knowing that if the Grandmaster catches you both, it’ll ruin your career. But Lohen adores you too much, willing to pick you over his work. It gets to a point where everyone in your squad is aware that he favours you over everyone. Many think it’s just a crush, a blooming love that’ll end with him confessing his love for you.
They’re unaware that Lohen’s “crush” on you isn’t a puppy crush meant to be treated as a joke. The crush he has on you is so intoxicating and overwhelming. But he doesn’t try to fix it. He lets his desire for you consume him whole because he believes that’s what love is like.
He watches over you every training like a hawk. Anyone daring to walk over to you, iniviting you to spar, or asking for your help, gets interrupted by his mocking comments. You can’t even walk on your own, without him following behind, asking: “Where do you think you’re going?”
And when Lohen helps you train, he’s behind you, pressing his chest against your back. A mischievous glint in his eyes, hands interlocking with yours—he excuses it as, “I’m just guiding you. Your… posture needs fixing. And your aim should be like this, okay?” His other hand finds its way to your hips, caressing them as he whispers instructions to you.
YOU HAVE REACHED THE MAXIMUM LEVEL OF FRIENDSHIP.
𝐄𝐕𝐄 🪽 —— first part of an eater's collection. columbina's ver next <3 then venti's!
He speaks your language - even if it's mostly stuttering, dropped items, and blushing silences.
Genshin Masterlist
I | Zhongli doesn’t rush. He courts you the old-fashioned way—soft gestures, consistent presence, and always treating you with a kind of reverence that makes your heart ache. He never overwhelms; he simply remains—until you finally look up and realize he’s always there.
II | Zhongli begins walking you home after your errands, offering his arm in that composed, quiet way of his. The first time you took it, you tripped over your own feet. He caught you and simply said, “Perhaps destiny wished to bring us closer.”
III | Zhongli starts showing up at your favorite tea shop and ordering your favorite blend before you even get there. When you arrive, it’s waiting for you at a table, with him sipping his own beside it. “I took the liberty,” he says softly, “hoping you’d join me.”
IV | You receive handwritten notes on the finest parchment—carefully folded and slipped between the pages of books you borrow from Liyue’s library. Some are quotes, some are compliments, and one simply reads:
“You are the most endearing constellation in my sky.”
^ 😭
V | Zhongli starts gifting you small trinkets with historical meaning. A hairpin once worn in the opera. A stone from a retired Adeptus shrine. Each time, he gives a long explanation to distract from your flustered expression.
VI | When you drop things in front of Zhongli now (which still happens regularly), he crouches with you to help gather them. He does not laugh, nor scold—he merely smiles and says, “It is as if the world wants you closer to the ground. But I would rather you rise.”
VII | Zhongli reads poetry aloud to you in parks or over tea, always in that soothing baritone. You try not to look at his lips, but fail miserably. He knows. He smiles just slightly more with each line.
VIII | Zhongli lets you ramble when you're nervous—never interrupting, never looking away. Even when you trail off with a whispered “Sorry, I talk too much,” he answers, “On the contrary. Your voice is the most gentle echo I have ever known.”
IX | One day, while walking beside Zhongli, you slip on a cobblestone. Instead of catching you this time, he tugs you gently into his side, steadying you with an arm around your waist.
“Perhaps,” he murmurs, “we should remain like this… just to prevent further accidents.”
X | Zhongli begins to lean closer when you speak, not out of necessity, but to encourage you to talk. You become a stammering mess. He remains entirely composed. His closeness is deliberate—a quiet nudge that says you are safe here.
XI | Zhongli touches you gently in small ways: brushing a leaf from your hair, offering his coat when you shiver, guiding your elbow through a crowd. Each touch is respectful but intimate, leaving your heart galloping for hours.
XII | Once, you shyly asked him why he was spending so much time with you. You thought maybe he felt pity. His eyes softened like melted amber as he replied, “My dear, do you pity a rare flower for blooming quietly in the shade? Or do you treasure it more for being hidden from the world?”
XIII | He once caught you rehearsing how to greet him behind a pillar. You were panicking, mumbling “Hi Zhongli” in ten different tones. He pretended not to hear and greeted you with a bow when you stepped out—though the ghost of laughter played in his golden eyes.
XIV | You once told him, in a moment of panicked vulnerability, “You’re so composed and elegant. I’m just… a mess.”
He took your hand, slowly, gently, and said:
“Even the tides are chaotic. Yet they shape the strongest stone. Never call your softness weakness, my dear. It has shaped me more than you know.”
You trip, stutter, and spill tea—but somehow, he finds it all… endearing.
Genshin Masterlist
I | The first time you met Zhongli, you spilled an entire tray of tea on his lap. You were mortified. He didn’t even flinch. Just calmly stood and said, “Ah, warm… but not unpleasant.”
II | You always get flustered when Zhongli looks at you for too long. His golden eyes are too intense, and every time he tilts his head thoughtfully at something you say, you start rambling and then forget what you were even talking about.
III | You once tripped over nothing while walking beside him, and he caught you by the waist with one hand—without even looking up from his book.
IV | Whenever you try to pour him tea, your hands shake. He gently covers your hand with his own, steadying it. “Allow me to assist,” he says, and your brain promptly short-circuits.
V | You bumped your head on a lantern trying to bow respectfully to him once. He blinked, concerned, but you brushed it off quickly—only to walk into a pole three seconds later.
VI | When you try to compliment him, it always comes out wrong. You meant to say “You look regal,” but somehow it came out as “You look… stone. Like a really handsome statue.”
He blinked. Then chuckled.
"Ahh, a handsome statue, you say."
VII | You constantly apologize for everything—even breathing too loud around him. He gently tells you, “There is no need to apologize for existing.”
VIII | You once tried to hide behind a potted plant when you saw him unexpectedly. He pretended not to notice, even though half your coat was still visible.
IX | You always try to walk ahead of him to avoid eye contact, but Zhongli’s long legs make that impossible. You end up power-walking, only to trip and have him calmly appear beside you in an instant.
X | Zhongli has, more than once, silently caught items you’ve knocked off shelves before they hit the ground. He never says anything. Just places them back with a little smile.
XI | When you try to hand him documents, your fingers always brush his, and every time it happens, you go red and whisper, “S-sorry!”
Zhongli always replies softly, “No apology needed. I rather enjoy the contact.”
XII | You once thought Zhongli was asking you on a date and panicked so hard you ran away mid-conversation. Turns out he was just asking if you liked grilled tiger fish. You avoided him for three days out of sheer embarrassment.
XIII | Zhongli notices how your hands tremble sometimes when you speak in front of others. He often stands close beside you in public, just enough to give you silent reassurance.
XIV | You tripped during a formal gathering and fell against his chest. Time stopped. Everyone looked. Zhongli gently helped you up and said calmly, “It’s alright. The floor can be quite deceptive.”
XIV | One day, you tried to surprise him with a handmade gift. You dropped it. Twice. It broke a little. You almost cried. But Zhongli said, “This carries your effort. It is more valuable than any Mora.”
XV | Zhongli enjoys your awkwardness. Truly. It reminds him of life’s imperfections—of how endearing humanity can be. When you ramble, he listens. When you stumble, he steadies.
XVI | You once nervously asked if you were “too much of a mess” to be around him. Zhongli looked at you, serious and soft, and said, “You are a beautiful kind of chaos. And I’ve lived long enough to know not all beauty is graceful.”
XVII | Zhongli never laughs at your clumsiness—unless you laugh first. Then he’ll smile, deep and low, and brush your hair behind your ear like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“You stumble,” he says, “but always into my heart.”
I | You always thought Zhongli was a little too elegant for a human. His knowledge of history? Impeccable. His way of speaking? Like a poem wrapped in velvet. But you just thought he was... eccentric. Until you overheard someone casually refer to him as the Geo Archon.
II | At first, you think it’s a joke. A metaphor, maybe. “Ah yes, Zhongli, so wise, he might as well be the Archon himself!” But the silence that follows is too heavy. And the way your tea nearly spills when your hands start trembling confirms it: they’re not joking.
III | You spiral quietly. You excuse yourself from the room, trip on the doorway, and make it halfway down the hallway before realizing your hands are shaking and you can’t remember how to breathe.
IV | He’s an Archon. An actual Archon.
Which means you’ve spilled tea on an Archon. Walked face-first into his chest—multiple times. Giggled nervously in front of him while snorting. Called his coat “swooshy.”
V | You try to act normal around The Archon the next time you see him. Unfortunately, “normal” looks like you staring at him without blinking and nearly walking into a lamp post.
VI | The Archon notices immediately. Of course he does. You’ve never acted this jumpy before, and you drop your cup twice in the span of five minutes. The second time, he gently takes it from your hands and says, “My dear, have I done something to unnerve you?”
VII | You blurt it out. The words tumble like tripping over your own feet: “You’reanArchonI’mjustaclumsyidiotIcalledyourhair‘fluffy’infrontofawholecrowdI’msosorry.”
VIII | Zhongli… chuckles. It’s a warm, low sound, and somehow that’s worse because it makes your cheeks burn. He calmly sets the cup down and replies, “That you’ve learned of my identity does not change who I am. I am still the man who enjoys walking you home and hearing your thoughts, however rambling they may be.”
IX | You try to apologize. Again. Profusely. For being awkward. For not realizing. For asking if Zhongli wanted a “rock-shaped cookie” that one time.
X | Zhongli insists on explaining it all, slowly and patiently—how he chose to live as Zhongli, the man, not as Morax the Archon. He watches you closely while he speaks, as if gauging whether you’ll bolt at any moment.
XI | You ask a million questions. Clumsily. One of them is, “Does this mean you’re like… really old?” The silence afterward is deafening, until Zhongli hums thoughtfully and says, “Would you think less of me if I were?”
You shake your head hard, flustered again. “No! No, you’re just… wow. And you’ve been patient with me all this time.”
He replies, “I was not being patient. I was learning you.”
XII | You feel incredibly self-conscious for a while after that. Every move, every awkward stumble feels magnified in front of someone so ancient and composed. But Zhongli always catches your gaze, as if to say: You’re still my favorite part of the day.
XIII | Eventually, you stop worrying about what Zhongli is and start seeing him again for who he is—the man who holds open doors, listens to your rambling about birds, and remembers your favorite pastries. The title Archon becomes a background hum to the affection you’ve built.
Still, once in a while, when you trip over nothing or spill something on yourself, you mutter, “Archon above…”
Zhongli always smiles softly and replies, “Indeed.”
You were assigned to the Knights because of your “potential.” No one told you what that actually meant.
1. You show up to the headquarters three hours early, standing at attention in front of a fancy looking door until a certain captain walks by and tells you the door leads to a broom closet. “Darling… that’s the broom storage.”
2. During your first patrol, Kaeya is walking beside you, explaining the route, and you suddenly trip over absolutely nothing. He catches you effortlessly, raises an eyebrow, and whispers: “Falling for me already?”
3. You get so flustered when he talks to you, you call him “Captain Sir Mister Kaeya”. He absolutely loves it. “Captain Sir Mister Kaeya… I could get used to that, sweetheart.”
4. You have no idea how to flirt, so you just stand stiffly and say things like: “Your hair is nice. It looks like… the night. With… strands. Like silk. Of...moon” Kaeya just grins like he’s being serenaded.
5. You once brought your sword to the kitchen after hearing it was weapon maintenence day and asked ( very seriously ), "Where is the dish soap for blades?" Kaeya nearly cried laughing.
6. He starts making it a habit to ‘randomly’ appear wherever you are during your patrols, under the excuse of 'checking up on the new recruits' even though your fellow new recruits tell you he has never showed up during their partrols.
7. Your first time helping during an emergency, you panicked and threw your sword....at a bush. Kaeya still teases you about it- "Captain Kaeya, I thought I saw it move my way! I just listended to my instinct!"
"Your instinct told you to throw you only weapon to you enemy and leave yourself completely defenseless?"
8. You tried to write a report for the first time and used the phrase “hostile nature entity” instead of “slime.”
Kaeya framed it. It’s on his office wall.
9. One time you forgot to knock and accidentally walked into Kaeya’s office while he was changing shirts.
You froze.
“Would you like a chair, or are you going to stand there and take notes?”
Having snowball fights with Capitano but it's just you throwing them at him.
It started with you accidentally throwing one at him. And after you did, you froze. The man towers over you and when he looked down from his coat where the snowball hit to the source, your heartbeat rose.
But he simply walked away.
You were his arranged bride and despite being complete strangers, he never forbade you from anything. He let you have your way and free will.
After that harmless encounter, you saw that he wasn't exactly the cold-hearted man you thought he was. It was hard to tell when a mask concealed his emotions.
So now whenever he passes through his snow covered garden, a ball of snow hits him out of nowhere. And when he looks back, he sees your snow covered hair and that cheeky smile, waiting for him to throw back a snowball.
But once again he walks away without making any remarks.
All through winter this continued whenever he passed through the garden.
He would entertain your thoughts only to leave you disappointed by disappearing without a word.
Winter was almost coming to an end and the snow would disappear in a few days, you gave up your hope.
Thud.
Something cold and hard hits your back. You turn around to see the Captain standing. There was snow on your cloak.
Did he just throw a snowball at you?
You smile so big and giggle while throwing another one back at him.
All this time unbeknownst to you of course, he returned your antics with a smile hidden underneath the mask.
And seeing your big smile today, then and there, maybe it wasn't wrong for the Captain to be wanting to see you happy everyday.
no because what actually happened to good angst fics/any other form of literature??
back in my time we had ACTUAL gut wretching, pain inducing, i-feel-like-im-gonna-throw-up, soul crushing, im-actually-sobbing, toe tickling angst/no comfort
when you're on your period and accidentally stained their sheets when you woke up from a nap. but the real problem was, those sheets you stained on were precious to them.
ft. Kinich, Sethos, Wanderer, Kazuha, Lyney
cw: fem! reader, small angst, mentions of modern au in Sethos's part, comfort, for my Girlies out there who's on their period. (me)
word count: 3,980
KINICH
You’d been with Kinich long enough to know that things didn’t come free. Not love, not attention, and certainly not patience. His affection was real. of that you were sure. but it had always come with terms, even if he didn’t say them aloud. Good behavior. Emotional availability. Gratitude.
And right now, curled up in the middle of his sheets, you felt like you'd broken all of those silent rules.
Your stomach throbbed with dull cramps, your limbs were heavy, and your body felt grossly warm despite the air conditioner humming in the corner. But all of that was nothing compared to the mortifying sight of red, stark, unforgiving red. on Kinich’s clean white sheets.
It didn’t even matter that it wasn’t your fault. You still sat there frozen, legs pulled to your chest and your hands balled tightly into the fabric of his blanket, eyes brimming with tears that wouldn’t stop coming.
Because you knew Kinich. Or at least, you thought you did.
He wasn’t cruel. No, never cruel. But he was exacting. Prone to disappointment. Affectionate, yes. but sometimes with an edge. He was the kind of man who gave gifts and then expected your undivided attention. The kind of man who smiled when you were sweet but would withdraw like a tide if you weren’t exactly what he needed.
So what was this, then? What would this cost you?
You didn’t hear him walk in. You only noticed when his shadow fell across the bed, when you flinched and immediately reached for the blanket to hide the stain.
“Hey,” Kinich’s voice was low, unreadable. His golden eyes flicked to the spot you were trying desperately to conceal, then to your visible panicked face. tear-streaked, trembling.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered before he could speak. “I didn’t mean to..It just started. I didn’t think—”
You couldn’t finish. Your throat closed around the panic in your chest, and when you blinked, the tears spilled over. You buried your face in your hands, hating how small you felt, how ashamed. You weren’t just scared of the stain, you were scared of him. Of how he'd look at you now. Of what he’d say. Of whether he’d sigh and step back and wait for you to apologize harder.
But he didn’t.
You felt the dip of the mattress first. Then a pause. A silence so thick it nearly choked you. And then—
“…You’re crying,” Kinich said gently, as if it confused him. “Why are you crying?”
You couldn’t look at him.
“I..I ruined your bed,” you choked out. “I know you hate messes. I know you don’t like, You’ve always been so particular, and I just— I know you’re going to be mad. So just say it, okay? Just say it, and I’ll fix it. I’ll wash it, I’ll stay out of your way, I’ll..”
“Stop.”
His voice wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t cold. It was… soft. Almost disbelieving.
“Stop,” he said again, firmer this time. “You think I’m going to be mad at you for bleeding?”
You sniffled, not knowing how to answer.
Kinich sighed, and then, surprisingly, he reached out, cupping the back of your head and gently drawing you toward his chest.
“I’m not mad,” he murmured. “I’m not anything but sorry that you thought I would be.”
You hesitated tensely at first, but let yourself fall against him, your body folding into his warmth. You cried, silently this time, into the collar of his shirt. Kinich didn’t push or pry. He just ran his hand through your hair, his other arm curled protectively around your shoulders.
After a long moment, he said quietly, “Have I really made you feel like I’d blow up over something like this?”
You didn’t answer. He already knew.
His jaw tightened. “That’s on me,” he whispered. “I’m… still learning, okay? Still trying to unlearn all the bullshit I thought love had to look like.”
You felt his hand pause at your scalp, thumb pressing gently against your skin.
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he said. “I don’t want you crying in my bed thinking I’m going to punish you for being human.”
Your tears were slowing now. Your shoulders stopped shaking. You could feel him there, really feel him. solid and real and steady.
“I’ll clean the sheets,” he said softly. “It’s not a big deal. And next time, I’ll make sure there’s a heating pad in here, and extra meds, and maybe some chocolate if you want it. Or soup. Or just silence. Whatever you need.”
You lifted your head slowly, looking up at him through blurry lashes.
“Why are you being so nice?” you whispered, voice cracking.
Kinich smiled, brushing your cheek with his thumb.
“Because I love you,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
And maybe it was.
legends say Ajaw is still in timeout~~
SETHOS
You knew Sethos wasn’t the kind of boyfriend who yelled.
He wasn’t passive-aggressive, didn’t slam doors, didn’t throw guilt trips. He didn’t keep score or act like affection was something you had to earn. Your relationship with him was healthy. safe, even. He loved you loud and full, with bright eyes and loud laughter and open arms. He held you like you were sunlight. You knew all this.
But still, when you stared at the growing red blotch on the dark sheets. the very same ones Cyno had gifted him last month, you felt the air disappear from your lungs.
Your stomach twisted. The cramps were nothing compared to the guilt curling in your chest. You’d only meant to nap while waiting for him to finish class. You hadn’t even realized your period had started. But now?
You glanced down at the sheets again.
Blood. Not a little, either. The kind that would stain, the kind that would cling to fabric and refuse to be washed out completely. The kind that ruined things.
Cyno had given him those sheets after a tough semester. a rare gesture from someone as blunt and emotionally reserved as him. Sethos had been so touched. He even joked it was one of the best gifts he'd ever gotten from Cyno, second only to that ridiculously expensive pen set he swore he never used but still proudly displayed.
And now you’d ruined them.
Tears welled up in your eyes before you could stop them. Your hands trembled as you reached to pull the blanket over the stain, heart thudding with the kind of panic you thought you’d grown out of. You weren’t scared of Sethos, not really..but you’d seen him get flustered before, defensive even, when people touched the things he held dear.
A book Kaveh lent him got rained on once, and he didn’t speak for half an hour. When Tighnari accidentally spilled soda on his favorite hoodie, he’d spent the next day obsessively rewashing it. He wasn’t angry, just… deeply bothered.
And this? Sheets from Cyno?
You didn't even hear the door open.
“Babe, I’m back! sorry I took so long, Cyno stopped me and-” Sethos’s words froze the second he stepped into the room and saw your face.
You weren’t fast enough to wipe the tears away.
His entire body shifted. You saw it. his carefree posture straightened, his voice dropped, and in an instant, he was kneeling beside the bed, hands hovering like he didn’t want to overwhelm you.
“Hey, hey, hey. What’s wrong?” he asked, eyes wide and warm and searching. “Did something happen? Are you hurt?”
“I-I didn’t know it started,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I didn’t even feel it, I was just sleeping and...”
Your voice broke entirely as you moved the blanket aside and showed him what you were so desperately trying to hide.
Sethos blinked. Then tilted his head.
“…That’s it?” he asked.
You frowned. “W-What?”
“I thought you stubbed your toe or something,” he said with a light, airy breath, ruffling his own hair. “Or like, your mom called you and said the cat died. I was ready to go full emergency mode.”
“But the sheets..” you whispered, staring down again. “Cyno gave them to you. They were a gift. I messed them up. I know how much you care about that kind of thing, I know you-”
Sethos placed both his hands on either side of your face, tilting your head up gently until your teary eyes met his smiling ones.
“I was literally going to change the sheets today anyway,” he said. “They were due for a wash.”
“But—”
“Hey,” he cut in softly. “It’s okay. You’re not in trouble.”
The words made you break entirely. The tears that had been threatening to fall came in full now, your shoulders trembling as you finally let yourself feel it. shame, relief, exhaustion, all of it.
Sethos didn’t flinch. He wrapped you in his arms without hesitation, pulling you into his lap like you weighed nothing at all. His cheek rested against your temple, one hand stroking slow circles on your back.
“I hate that you were sitting here crying all alone,” he murmured. “You could’ve called me. I would’ve run home in two seconds.”
“I didn’t want you to be mad,” you sniffled into his shirt. “You liked those sheets.”
“I like you more,” he said immediately. “Sheets don’t have dimples and a cute nose and the kind of laugh that makes my knees weak.”
You let out a shaky laugh, and that was all the encouragement he needed.
“In fact,” he said, drawing back just enough to cup your cheeks again, “now that you mention it, I do feel kinda betrayed.”
Your heart stopped. “What?”
He narrowed his eyes playfully, lips twitching. “Yeah. I’ve been sleeping on those sheets for weeks. Why didn’t I get to be the one who bled on them dramatically?”
“…Sethos—”
“Do you know how cool that would be?” he continued with a mock-serious expression. “I could’ve woken up like, ‘Oh no… it’s happening. I’m ascending.’ You totally robbed me of my vampire main character arc.”
You stared at him in disbelief, and then you snorted. Loud. Ugly. The laugh kind that burst out uninvited.
He grinned, victorious. “There she is.”
You pushed at his chest half-heartedly, but he held you close, the teasing fading into something softer.
“I love you,” he said, voice sincere. “And nothing you do will ever make me love you less. Got it?”
You nodded against him, the last of the tears drying against his shoulder.
“Now,” he added, “get comfy. I’m gonna clean this up, make us tea, and then we’re watching whatever cheesy rom-com you want. No arguments.”
You smiled as he stood up and kissed your forehead, already tugging off the stained sheets without a single complaint.
Sethos was sunshine. Always had been. And today, you were thankful he shone even on the days you felt too messy to deserve the light.
WANDERER
Your relationship with Wanderer wasn’t toxic.
But it wasn’t close to those romance animes like HoriMiya.
You didn’t fight. You didn’t scream or throw cruel words. But there was a distance. a fog that never seemed to lift no matter how close you sat beside him, no matter how many nights you fell asleep with your face buried in the curve of his neck.
Wanderer loved you, probably. But he didn’t say it. He showed it in strange ways. holding your hand when no one was looking, brushing your hair behind your ear only when he thought you were asleep, staring too long when he thought you wouldn’t notice.
So when you sat up from the bed, groggy and warm, only to see the small red stain blooming across the pale cream sheets, your blood gone unnoticed during the night. your heart stopped.
Not because of the stain.
But because Nahida made those sheets.
He never told you that openly. You only heard it once, in passing. when you complimented how soft they were, and he muttered that they were custom, something the Lesser Lord gave him once during a quiet moment.
“Made from Sumeru cotton. Rare,” he’d said. “I didn’t ask her to, but she said I never slept well. So she thought I should try.”
He said it like it didn’t matter.
But his fingers had clenched a little tighter around the corner of the sheet, like it did.
And now they were ruined.
You sat frozen, staring. The blood was still fresh. It wasn’t a lot, but on that delicate, expensive fabric, it looked… violent.
Your first instinct was to scrub it out. The second was to cry. The third; terrible, frantic, was to lie. Pretend it was yours, something you spilled from a wound. Pretend you hadn’t touched them at all.
But before you could do any of that, the bathroom door creaked open.
He walked out slowly, towel around his neck, hair damp and tousled. And the moment his gaze flicked to you, then to the bed. he stopped.
Silence.
No expression on his face. Just stillness. Still enough to make your ears ring.
“I..” your voice cracked. “I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to. It must’ve started while I was asleep, I didn’t feel it, I—”
You bit your tongue before it spiraled further. You hated how easily your voice trembled around him.
He didn’t say anything. Just stood there, eyes trained on the sheets. You watched his jaw clench for half a second. Then, a sigh. Tired. Heavy.
“...Why are you panicking?” he finally said, tone unreadable.
You looked at him, startled. “Because they mattered to you.”
“And?” he asked, voice a little sharper now. “You think I’m going to throw a tantrum over a stain?”
You flinched. “No, I just… I know how much you keep to yourself. I didn’t want to touch something that wasn’t mine.”
Something flickered in his expression. Barely there. Then gone.
“They were mine,” he said quietly. “But you’re in my bed, aren’t you?”
You blinked.
“That means they’re yours, too.”
Your throat tightened. “But they were from Nahida. I know how close you are to her. I know you don’t sleep well without them.”
He walked closer.
“I didn’t sleep well, until you started being here,” he said, almost bitterly. “Those sheets helped a little. You helped more.”
You stared at him, heart thudding. He avoided your gaze.
“Stop assuming I’m going to yell every time you mess something up,” he muttered. “I’m not… him. I’m not that version of me anymore.”
Your breath caught. He never talked about who he used to be.
But today, he did.
You sat in silence as he stepped past you and began pulling the sheets off the bed, moving with quiet efficiency. There was a tightness in his jaw, but no anger. He didn’t throw them. Didn’t scoff. Just peeled them off and folded them in his arms like it was just another chore.
“I’ll ask her if she can make another set,” he said, offhandedly. “She’ll probably tease me. She’s been waiting for something like this.”
Your lip trembled. “I really am sorry.”
“I know.”
“I would’ve told you sooner, but—”
“I know.”
You hesitated. “You’re not mad?”
Wanderer sighed again, and this time, it sounded less tired. He turned toward you slowly, stepping closer until your knees brushed.
Then, in the softest voice he could manage:
“I’ve done worse. You could spill ink, set something on fire, bleed through every expensive thing I own. I’d still pick you over any of it.”
You looked up at him, startled.
He avoided your eyes again.
“And anyway,” he added, deadpan, “you already ruined my peace. Might as well ruin my sheets too.”
You laughed. quiet, watery.
He finally met your gaze. And this time, you saw it. Not pity. Not irritation. Just a soft, tired kind of affection that looked almost like-
Forgiveness.
And maybe something deeper.
He reached out, tucking your hair behind your ear, then mumbled:
“Next time, just wake me up. I’ll help you wash them.”
in conclusion: so yes, your relationship might not be like Horimiya or any romance animes out there. but..that doesn't mean your love for eachother isn't real.
KAZUHA
Your relationship with Kazuha was perfect.
Not in the unrealistic, fairytale sense. But in the kind that felt safe. Gentle. His voice never raised, his touch never harsh. Arguments. rare as they were, always ended with soft apologies and warm arms around you, wrapped in mutual understanding.
He loved you with patience. With poetry. With the kind of love that felt like early morning light slipping through curtains.
So why were you spiraling?
You stared at the red blot on the pale sheets. Just a small mark, really. The kind that would probably wash off if treated quickly.
But your brain wasn’t thinking in terms of laundry detergent.
It was spiraling. fast, irrational.
What if he minds?
What if he doesn’t say anything but feels differently?
What if he never sees the bed the same way again?
What if this changes something?
What if it makes me… ugly to him?
You gripped your hands tightly in your lap, already too emotional, already fighting back tears. You didn’t want to ruin anything. Not with Kazuha. Especially not with Kazuha.
You were so lost in your head that you didn’t notice when the door opened.
He stepped into the room quietly, holding a cup of warm tea in his hands. one of those sleepy blends he always offered you when you were in pain.
But the moment he noticed your hunched posture, the flushed embarrassment on your cheeks, and your trembling fingers… he paused.
“Beloved?” he asked softly. “What’s wrong?”
You didn’t respond at first. Couldn’t. You just stared at the sheets, then at your lap.
“…I stained them,” you finally whispered. “The sheets. I didn’t mean to. It happened while I was sleeping.”
Kazuha blinked once, and followed your gaze to the small mark on the bed.
Then, quietly, calmly. he walked forward, set the mug down, and sat beside you. Not too close. Not too far. Just enough that his presence could be felt, grounding you.
“Is that what’s troubling you?” he asked gently.
You didn’t answer. You were waiting for something. Disappointment. A sigh. Even just a look.
But none came.
Instead, he let a few seconds pass, then said softly, “The fabric is only fabric, my love. Easily washed. Easily replaced.”
Your throat tightened. “I know. I just… I got scared. I didn’t want you to be disgusted. Or uncomfortable. Or… not see me the same.”
Kazuha’s gaze turned toward you, soft and steady.
“You stained a piece of cloth,” he said. “Not our bond.”
You turned to him slowly, eyes wide.
He smiled. “You are not something to be ashamed of. Nor is this. It’s human. And I fell in love with you fully aware of what me and you are getting ourselves into.”
He reached for your hand, thumb brushing along your knuckles.
“Besides,” he added, almost teasing, “do you think I’d value cotton over the person who brings warmth to every night I lie here?”
You let out a small, wet laugh.
He smiled wider, then pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “Come. We’ll change the sheets together. And after that, we can lie back down. I’d rather hold you than worry about anything else.”
You leaned into him, tears quietly slipping down your cheeks. not from shame anymore, but relief.
Because Kazuha never needed perfection. Just honesty.
And right now, you knew there was no one gentler to bleed around than him.
LYNEY
Lyney was the sweetest man you knew.
He made you laugh when you felt like crying, brought little surprises from every market trip, kissed your cheeks like you were the only magic he’d ever believe in. and he let you be. Just be. Loud or quiet, soft or guarded, he saw through it all and made you feel safe.
Even Lynette, usually expressionless and unreadable, had smiled more often ever since you entered their lives. Sometimes, she’d even nudge Lyney gently after a show, eyes glittering with quiet fondness, and murmur, “You’re lucky.”
You believed it too. Things were good. Really good.
You even caught yourself thinking, maybe it can last forever.
Until today.
Until you woke up and felt that ugly, sticky, painful sensation in your lower abdomen. The ache was sharp, like a low thrum behind your bellybutton, and it made you curl inwards on the bed.
You blinked groggily, disoriented for a moment, only to sit up and see it.
A bright, unmistakable stain across the middle of Lyney’s crisp, white sheets.
Your stomach dropped.
Panic came first. Then guilt. Then shame, because how could something so natural still make you feel so filthy?
You remembered Lyney telling you once that these sheets were from Fontaine’s famous fabric vendor. a gift from Freminet, who rarely ever gifted anything. They were soft, expensive, and something Lyney clearly treasured.
Now ruined. By you.
He had just gone out to check on his props for a show, saying he’d be back in half an hour.
You had thought about quickly changing the sheets, maybe even sneaking them into the wash before he noticed. but your cramps were making movement hard, and every second that passed only made your eyes sting more.
So when the doorknob turned, and Lyney walked in humming, your panic reached its peak.
You clutched the sheet tightly in your hands, your back hunched, tears already pooling in your lashes.
He paused the moment he stepped inside, instantly sensing the shift in the air. He saw the way you didn’t meet his eyes, the way your hands trembled, the raw redness in your face.
“…Chérie?” His voice was softer now. Concerned.
You still couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even look at him. You just whispered, brokenly, “I’m sorry…”
But instead of asking why, instead of being confused or demanding answers, Lyney crossed the room in three steps and gently took the sheets from your grip.
He didn’t flinch. He didn’t scowl. He didn’t say a single word of disappointment.
In fact, he smiled.
“Mon chéri,” he said, brushing a few tears from your cheek with his thumb. “I have a twin sister. Do you think a little stain like this bothers me? When I’ve already dealt with Lynette in the past?”
Your lips trembled. “…But these were Freminet’s gift—”
“And Freminet will survive,” Lyney interrupted softly, voice full of light. “You didn’t destroy a castle, amour. You had an accident. A human one.”
You finally looked at him then, really looked. and what you saw was nothing but tenderness.
“You’re in pain, aren’t you?” he asked, glancing briefly at the way you held your abdomen.
You gave a small nod, lip wobbling.
“Then let’s focus on that first.” He stood up, folded the stained sheets as if they were no big deal, and set them gently aside. “I’ll run you a warm bath, find your favorite lounge set, and we’ll cuddle on the couch. We can burn a candle, drink tea, or just listen to soft music. Whatever you want.”
You were crying again, but for a very different reason now.
Lyney cupped your cheeks, leaned in, and kissed your forehead. “This doesn’t change how I see you. If anything, I’m glad you trust me enough to feel safe here.”
You hiccupped a laugh. “I was panicking.”
He grinned. “I figured. That’s why I brought your favorite cookies.”
You blinked. “You…?”
“I always bring them after prop checks,” he teased, reaching into his pocket and revealing a small pack with a bow. “Magic may be something I love, but making you smile is my favorite trick.”
And just like that, you did.
Because Lyney didn’t just love the best parts of you.
He loved all of you. even on the days you couldn’t love yourself.
