#this is a proof of concept/experiment more than anything
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Well Trained
Pairing: Fem!Reader x Feitan, Fem!Reader x Chrollo (separately)
Summary: Chrollo is a particular man, with particular taste. Though he loves everything about you, he has yet to see how you preform in bed. He fears that if you disappoint him, it will ruin everything that you’ve built together. Luckily, he knows someone who can teach you to behave exactly how he likes.
Word Count: 4.1K
Warnings: Dub con that borders on noncon at times. If you’re sensitive to that at all I would skip this one, toxic relationship dynamic, manipulation, face slapping, choking, scratching, rough sex, degradation, praise, Feitan is mean but we know that, Dom Chrollo, calls you good girl a lot, body marking, oral (fem receiving), raw sex, cream pie, not proof read. MDNI
a/n: So I’ve had this idea in my head FOREVER because I want both Chrollo and feitan badly. Writing this concept out was lowkey kicking my ass though. I think I ended up pulling it together, but I hope y’all enjoy.
Dating Chrollo was a dream come true. He was everything you ever wanted in a man: intelligent, attentive, and sweet. Not to mention so handsome. He treated you like a princess and you loved it. Everything was perfect.
Well, almost everything.
You’d been dating for a couple months and you hadn’t had sex yet. At first you thought he wasn’t that into you, but when he kept coming back for more dates you knew that couldn’t be the case. You wondered if he was a wait till marriage type, or was shy in some way. You respected the boundary, despite wanting to sleep with him so bad. If he needed more time, you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but it was starting to worry you.
Little did you know, Chrollo wanted to sleep with you just as badly. Maybe even more so. He was very picky with who he slept with, hence this long period of courting. However, the more time he spent with you, the more he realized he had genuine feelings for you. He has had some relationships in the past, but he always knew they would not be very longterm. You, however, he felt was someone he could see himself with forever.
This revelation made him want to make sure everything was perfect. He liked women with experience, who knew what they were doing and how to please him. However, he hated having to put the work in to get his partners there himself. Luckily, he knew someone who was a very effective teacher.
“My love,” Chrollo spoke over his wine, “May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
He smiled at your eagerness. “Do you want to have sex with me?”
Your cheeks colored at the blatant question. Chrollo loved how demure you were. “Y-yes, I do. A lot, actually.”
“Good,” Chrollo replied, taking a sip of his deep burgundy drink, “I have wanted to for some time now, but there is something I need you to do first.”
Your brows knitted. “What is that?”
“I’m a very... particular person. As I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Chrollo explained, “And I want to make sure everything is just right.”
Your heart dropped a little bit. “Am... Am I not good enough for you?”
Chrollo shook his head and placed a hand over yours, comforting your nerves. “Not at all, my love. Quite the opposite actually. I love you so much that I don’t want anything to get in the way of our relationship.”
You nodded, feeling slightly relieved. “What is it? What do you want me to do?”
Chrollo thought about what the best way to explain it was. “I have a friend. He can teach you what I like, much better than I can.” He say the confused look on your face and continued. “You trust me, don’t you y/n?”
“Yes, of course,” you replied instantly. And it was true.
“I know it is an request,” Chrollo went on, “But it is important to me. Everything about you is so perfect. This will simply make sure it stays that way.” He kissed your hand, making your stomach fill with butterflies. “I want you in my life forever. Will you do this for me, my love?”
The way he looked at you and spoke to you made your body feel weak in the best way. The answer was easy for you. “Yes, of course.”
A smile spread across his face. “Excellent.”
A few days later you found yourself in a building outside of the city. It was a bit dumpy on the outside, but the inside was furnished nicely. You were aware that Chrollo engaged in a very secretive business and decided awhile ago not to ask. You didn’t know, and you didn’t want to. It didn’t matter, anyways, you loved him. And he loved that about you.
Chrollo led you into a bedroom, occupied by one other man. You felt a pang of anxiety, not fully knowing what Chrollo meant by being taught what he liked.
“Y/n, this is my friend Feitan,” Chrollo introduced you to smaller man standing before you. The way his cold eyes appraised you sent a shiver down your spine. You said a polite hello, but he was silent. Chrollo continued, “Feitan is on the quiet side, but I trust him completely. He is going to show you what I want.”
Your stomach rolled anxiously. “Wh-what does that mean, exactly?”
Chrollo gave you an almost sympathetic look. “I don’t want to lie to you, my love. I want you to have sex with Feitan. He’s going to... mold you into the exact type of lover I like.”
You stared at him, dumbfounded. Chrollo was a bit possessive, even early on in your relationship, so you couldn’t believe he was telling you to have sex with another man. Your eyes flicked over to Feitan, his aura making you nervous. “Chrollo I don’t-”
Chrollo gently took your jaw in his hands and turned your face back to his. “I thought you trusted me, love?”
“I do, I ju-”
“It will be okay, I promise. This will make our relationship stronger. Everything will be perfect. You want that, don’t you? You love me, don’t you?” He was so close to you, speaking so softly it made you dizzy. You almost forgot Feitan was there and what this situation was for. You never understood the effect Chrollo had on you, just that it was very strong.
“I do, I love you so much,” you replied.
“If that is true, you’ll do this,” Chrollo replied sweetly, “And I know you will, because I know you love me.”
You nodded. You were nervous, of course, but you couldn’t say to him. “I will, I promise.”
Chrollo smiled. “My good girl.” He kissed your forehead. “Now go sit on the bed, I need to talk to Feitan quickly.” You did as you were told, sitting on the edge of the bed as the two men stepped out side and spoke in hushed tones.
“What rules boss?” Feitan asked.
“Get her how I like them. You know the way,” Chrollo replied, “Do whatever you need to. Choke her or hit her if you need to. Just nothing that will leave a mark, especially not on her face. And don’t cum inside her, that is for me only.”
Feitan nodded. “Understood.”
With that, the smaller man slipped back inside the room. Your anxiety spiked being alone with him. He pulled his jacket down, revealing his full face. He actually quite handsome, almost similar to Chrollo. He, however, looked more cold and harsh than your boyfriend did. He was silent as he approached you, appraising your body language. He could tell you were nervous, which excited him.
“Take clothes off,” he stated. With you on the bed and him standing he was able to look down on you.
“I don’t-”
Before you could finish your sentence he gripped your jaw. “It not a request.” You nodded, shaking. He was not someone you wanted to challenged. You slowly took off your shirt, then your pants. You reluctantly went for your bra, but he grabbed your arm. “I do that. You undress me now.”
You nodded, your voice still feeling lodged in your throat. You were just happy to have the focus be on something other than you. You stripped off his jacket, shirt and pants, leaving him in his underwear. “Good,” he said before climbing on top of you.
Your body instinctively shrunk away from him, which made him scowl. “You treat me like Chrollo. You would not hide from him.” He place his hands on your shoulders, pressing your body into a more relaxed position on the mattress.
“I’m sorry I- this is just hard for me,” you admitted.
“If you listen it will be easy,” he replied. He placed a kiss to the center of you check. “Chrollo will mark you here.” He kissed the top of your breast that your bra didn’t cover. “And here.” He kissed your neck. “And here. And you’ll let him.”
“O-okay,” you replied.
“Now we kiss.” He pressed his lips to yours, which were warmer than you thought they were going to be. Still, you felt you couldn’t kiss him back, your lips feeling glued shut. Feitan’s hand wrapped around your neck, making you gasp. Feitan laughed, licking into your mouth. “If you kiss Chrollo like that, he won’t like.” Feitan tightened his hand around your throat, choking you slightly.
You kept your eyes closed and tried to pretend you were kissing Chrollo. It was hard at first, especially with Feitan tightening his hand more. “Do better.” Eventually you were able to get into a rhythm; you knew you were doing it right when Feitan loosened his grip.
His grip loosening, however, meant dipping lower to your chest. He squeezed at your boobs over your bra for a moment, before taking it off. You couldn’t help yourself, you moved to cover yourself. Feitan, of course did not allow it. He gripped your arms and pinned them above your head, tsking. “You are slow learner.”
Feitan kissed and licked at your breasts and neck. He was very careful not pay attention to too much on one spot, as he did not want to leave a mark. Feitan took any job Chrollo gave him seriously, but especially this one. He knew how much trust Chrollo had to have in him to allow him do this. He would never break the trust, but he would make sure the job was well done. By any means necessary.
“If I release your hands, you will listen?” Feitan questioned.
“Yes,” you replied, still with a shake in your voice.
Feitan did as he said he would. “Put them in my hair. Gentle. Chrollo like that.” You slid your hands into his dark locks, running your fingers through them softly. Feitan went back to kissing you as you did this. He smacked you bare thigh when your lips got too stiff again. You yelped, but continued to kiss him like he wanted. Like Chrollo wanted, you reminded yourself. this was for him.
His hand slid down your body, between your thighs. Your legs shut, making him slap your thigh again and roughly pry them open. “Stop fighting.” He ran his hand over your clothed cunt. You focused on kissing him and running your hands through his hair as he touched you. His rubbed your clit through the fabric. You were surprised how it made your stomach curl, how it felt... good.
It made it a little easier to kiss him and touch him. You let your hands wander a little further down his back, making him hum in approval. You gasped when his finger slipped inside you, but recovered quickly. Feitan curled his finger into a spot that made your breath go ragged. He pumped his fingers faster, your cunt getting wetter by the minute. Your brain was a confused mess. On one hand it was weird to be touched by this stranger, on the other it did feel good.
Feitan slid in a second finger and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. Feitan gripped your jaw. “Don’t be quiet. He’ll wanna hear.” Feitan scissored your his fingers inside you, stretching you out. This time you let a moan slip from your lips. “Good.” He pulled his fingers out of you and put them in front of your lips. “Now suck.”
You took in his fingers, sucking at them. “More.” He shoved them deeper in your mouth, making you gag a little. You tried to correct yourself quickly, letting your tongue roll up and down the length of them, tasting yourself. Feitan yanked your underwear off and it took everything in you not to hide yourself. You felt so exposed under his gaze.
As he stripped off his underwear and climbed on top of you, the reality of what was about to happen set in and you started to panic. “No!” you cried trying to close your legs. It was no use, Feitan was so much stronger than you. He dug his nails into the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, making you wince.
“You obey, not fight,” Feitan growled, bullying his way between your legs. You brought your hands up and start smacking his chest and shoving him away. A sudden, swift slap to your face stunned you into stillness. Your face stung as he gave you a look that struck fear into you. He gripped your jaw achingly tight and got in your face. “Chrollo never love you like this. He want girl who behave. Who listens.”
“But-” He dug his nails into your thigh more, making you yelp.
“And you never say no to Chrollo,” he practically spat. He released his grip on you, but his gaze kept you pinned in place. “You going to behave now? Or do I tell Chrollo you don’t love him enough.”
You gulped. “P-please don’t.”
“Then shut up and take it,” he replied, flipping you in your stomach. “You can’t be trusted on back.” He took both go your hands in one of his, holding them to your lower back, effectively making you immobile. You felt the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance, covering himself in your slick. He gave you no warning when he pressed into you, making you gasp.
Despite his smaller stature, his cock stretched your cunt. You whined as he thrust into you, not giving you any time to adjust. A slap came down on your ass. “Arch back more.” His free hand went down the length of your spine, putting you into place. The new position allowed him to get deeper inside you, hitting a spot that made you see stars. “Feels better for him. And you.” He was right, it felt so good. Your pussy throbbed with each brush of his cock at that sweet spot.
When you bit your lip to stifle a moan, you earned another sharp slap to your ass. You opened your mouth to cry out in pain, but it turned into a damn near pornographic moan as Feitan pounded you through it. “Like that. Let me hear.”
He continued to pound into you rough and hard. You knew you should hate it, that it shouldn’t feel so good, but god it did. You weren’t even faking your moans, they were all real reflections of the pleasure he gave you. Just when you thought it couldn't get more intense, his free hand snaked around to play with your clit.
“Fuck Feitan!” you cried out. You were on the precipice of an orgasm when he pulled his hand away, making you whine.
“You want to cum? Beg.”
“Please!” Another hard slap on your ass.
“Better than that.”
You begged, desperately, “Please Feitan! Please! Let me cum. I need to!”
“Good.” His hand was back on your clit, rubbing rough circles. “Now cum.” Your body responded immediately, tensing then melting into a deep, euphoric state. You were sure to moan loudly, to show him just how good it felt. You have heard him say good again, but your mind was too foggy to be sure. All you know is that he didn’t slap you again, so you must be doing something right.
Feitan pulled out of you quickly, spilling his cum on your ass and back with a low groan. He very much enjoyed when Chrollo gave him jobs like this. “Chrollo will cum inside. And you let him.” You nodded, feeling hazy and spent. Your body collapsed on to the bed as Feitan got up. He tossed a towel at you and told you to clean yourself up. You did your best to wipe his release off yourself as he dressed and disappeared out of the room.
You were just finished dressing when the door opened again. This time it was your boyfriend. “Chrollo!” you cried out with relief. You ran to him, hugging him tightly. He chuckled lightly; you played right into his plan. He knew Feitan would be rough with you and knew that would make you love his gentleness towards you even more. It was just another way to manipulate you into believing he was a good guy, to make you desperate for his approval.
“My sweet girl,” he hummed rubbing your head. “Feitan said you did good. Just a few more lessons and you’ll be perfect. I'm so proud of you, angel.”
You sniffled. “Really?”
“Of course,” Chrollo replied, giving you a chaste kiss. “I know you must really love me to do this. It makes me so happy. I hope you know I love you, too. All of the is for us, for out relationship.”
Maybe if you weren’t in such as haze you’d realize how ridiculous this all was. Or if you weren't s enamored with him. But both of those things blinded you. “I do love you! I know you love me too. I’ll do anything, I’ll learn fast. I promise.”
You returned to Feitan’s bed handful of more times over the next few weeks. He taught you to be the perfect lover for Chrollo, someone who submits fully and is eager to please. Overtime you found the lessons to be easier, even enjoyable. Well, maybe that was too strong of a word, but they were pleasurable. Feitan wasn’t gentle with you, but the more you learned and complied, the less he hit or was unnecessarily rough. You couldn’t deny that Feitan knew what he was doing.
Your favorite part, however, was how Chrollo treated you after. You lived for the praise he showered you with, how he kissed and held you. You never once doubted that he loved you, despite handing you over to Feitan. Your hard work paid off when Feitan finally told Chrollo you were ready.
You were a mix of nervous excitement as Chrollo led you to his bedroom. The two of you went out to dinner to celebrate and now it was time to show him you could be the perfect girl for him. You knew Feitan taught you well, but you couldn’t help but be a little nervous.
Chrollo’s lips found yours as you settled into the bed. Your lips moved against his with ease. You parted your mouth slightly, allowing your tongues to swirl together.
“Take your clothes off, my love,” Chrollo whispered in your ear.
“Yes sir,” you replied. You slid out go your dress, letting him admire the lingerie he bought for the occasion.
“All off.”
“Yes sir.”
Your cheeks flushed as you removed the final article of clothings covering you. Chrollo’s gaze was definitely softer than Feitan’s, but it still made your stomach flutter with nerves. You kept a brave face, letting him look without covering anything.
Chrollo smiled. “So beautiful,” he crawled on top of you, kissing your breasts. “My beautiful girl.” He sucked at the skin, in a way that would definitely leave a mark. “And all mine.” He continued kissing, sucking, licking up your chest and neck. You slid your hands through his hair, pressing your body into his touch. Chrollo hummed approvingly. “I allowed Feitan to touch you, but you’re mine. Everyone will know it. You want that right, baby? To be mine?”
“Yes!” you practically cried out as he sucked on a sensitive part of your neck. “’M all yours. Only yours.”
“Good girl,” he purred. He kissed you again as his hand traveled down you body. You slid your thighs open, allowing him access to your throbbing cunt. His fingers slid through you, letting your arousal coat them. “Soaked for me already? Didn’t realize you were so desperate for me.”
“Need you so b-oh,” your sentence died off in a moan as he pressed a finger inside you.
“What's that? I didn’t hear you,” Chrollo mused, pumping his fingers in you. He curled his finger against your sensitive spot, which had you mewling.
“N-need you so bad!” you cried. His thumb made contact with your clit, making your body jolt. Your thighs instinctively wanted to close from the pleasure, but you kept them open, as you knew he wanted.
“Think I wanna taste this pretty pussy. Would you like that, y/n? What my mouth on your cunt?” Chrollo asked, toying with your pussy.
“Yes sir! Want it, want whatever you want,” you replied breathlessly.
Chrollo smiled, loving your desperation, how it was clear you would let him do anything he wanted. He laid between your legs, licking a stripe up your pussy. “Mmm, so sweet.” He went straight to your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud. You didn’t stifle your moans at all. Your hands slid through his hair again, running your nails along the scalp. Chrollo let his tongue tease your hole, while his finger took over at your clit. You rolled your hips into him, grinding your pussy against his face just as Feitan told you to.
Chrollo’s tongue and fingers switched places. He fucked you with his fingers more intensely, giving your pussy a nice stretch.
“P-please, can I cum?” you questioned, trying to desperately to hold on. You did not want to cum before you were allowed. That was a big no.
Chrollo smiled. “Because you asked so nicely.” Your body responded immediately, releasing on his face. Your cried out his name as his tongue flicked your clit through your orgasm. Feitan had made you feel good, but Chrollo made you feel amazing. You knew your love for him made it so much better.
Chrollo sat up, appraising your body. He loved the power of you being naked and him being dressed. He loved that he could already see bruises forming on your neck. How you already looked fucked out from just his tongue. How you were looking up at him, desperate for more, but waiting for him to tell you what to do. He made a mental note to thank Feitan again.
“Undress me.”
You complied immediately. “Yes, sir.” Your body was weak from your orgasm, your hands shaking. Chrollo was amused by how your were so desperate for him that you struggled with he buttons on his shirt. You planted kisses down his body as you removed his clothing, another lesson from Feitan. When he was finally naked, you sat back and waited for his instruction.
Chrollo climbed back on top of you and you parted your legs for him dutifully. He teased his type at your hole. “Beg for it.”
“Please Chrollo! Want you so bad,” You begged, “Need you. Only you. Please let me make you feel good!”
Chrollo made a noise of approval. “Such a good girl for me.” He slid his cock into you, making you gasp. He was definitely a little bigger than Feitan, giving you a stretch. He pushed himself in slower than Feitan did, but didn’t give you much time to adjust. He rolled his hips against your yours, his paces quickly increasing.
His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly. His thumb brushed against your lower lip. You parted your lips, allowing him to slip the digit in. You sucked on it, keeping your eyes on his. You could feel Chrollo’s cock throb, egging you on. You began rolling your hips up to meet his, just like Feitan taught you.
“Fuck, I love you angel,” Chrollo groaned, “Knew you’d be my perfect girl.” He slipped his thumb out of your mouth, but kept his hand wrapped around your throat. You moaned, despite his grip getting tighter around you. That combined with him pounding into your pussy made you teeter close to edge.
“Chrollo I-nngh ‘m close,” you gasped. “Please can I cum?”
Chrollo dipped in to kiss you before responded, “Yes baby. Cum on my cock.” Your head lolled back as your second orgasm flooded your body. His name slipped from your lips in a desperate moan as the pleasure had you seeing stars. Chrollo fucked you through it, your spasming walls eventually pushing him over the edge. He moaned your name - the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard - filling your pussy with his warm release. His final way to fully claim you as his.
He didn’t pull out even when you both finished, leaning in to kiss you more. “I love you so much, you were so perfect,” he praised between kiss. “And now you’re mine. Forever.”
#I didn't know how to end it#so slay#hope you enjoyed#bc this was hard to write for some reason#chrollo x reader#yandere chrollo#chrollo smut#chrollo hcs#chrollo x y/n#feitan smut#feitan x reader#feitan hc#feitan headcanons#hxh x reader#hxh smut#hxh headcanons
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u don’t have to answer this if u don’t want to or u feel u don’t have anything to say on it (obvi) but how do u deal with jealousy and comparison?
i genuinely just like my shit. i love how i look like, i love my stuff, i love where i come from, i love my family and friends, and i appreciate all the circumstances (good and bad) that have led me to be the person i am today. i've done a lot of esteemable things that have bolstered my confidence growing up, like getting an extremely hard degree and pushing myself outside of my comfort zone more than ever before. i treat other people w kindness and respect. i make sure to be a source of support rather than needless negativity. what people think of me (or have) doesn't get under my skin anymore, bc i've already proven my worth to myself. the fact of the matter is, i'll always hold my own opinion of myself higher than i do other people's opinions of me. i'm at a place where i just don't care that much. i've lost the need to correct people on their takes of me a long time ago.
my own happiness is king--everything else is secondary. if i like it, that's enough for me.
i find it pointless to compare myself to somebody else, simply because no two people have been dealt the exact same cards. i wouldn't compare a rose to a lily, so why should i be comparing myself to people who're--no matter who they are, no matter where they're from--never gonna be me? i'm me. the only person i should be comparing myself to is my past self. i am only in competition w myself. that is all.
as for jealousy, viewing people who have things i want as proof of concept has really helped. if another person gets a higher score on a test, i don't get jealous that they outdid me. i just view them as proof that i can get that score if i studied more efficiently. someone else's success isn't a lack of your own--it's just proof you can reach that success, even if the route doesn't look exactly the same, even if it might take longer.
contentment is entirely subjective. i've known wealthy people who're incredibly miserable. i've known people who struggle financially but could not be happier. other people's advantages don't rattle me, bc i don't care about them, bc i'm so eternally grateful for what i already have. i've also never really been that materialistic to begin with, so i've always understood that a person's worth lies in who they are rather than what they own (whether it be things, money, opportunities...). i can say w my whole chest that i wouldn't swap places w the most famous, most rich celebrity there is. i legitimately don't want to. i know that even if i have to work harder for things, i'll have more to say by the end of it all, and that in and of itself is so profound. not to mention the satisfaction from having challenged myself to get there--and i love a good challenge.
i've unleared the idea that i should view other women as competition. life is hard, we all struggle, we'll be living in a man's world for a long time, and it's just not worth the energy. yeah i'm ambitious, but not at the expense of other people. there's enough room for everyone. another woman's achievement doesn't mean less space for mine. we'll all be fine.
w all that said!! there are bad days. no human is just confident all the time, doesn't feel jealous all the time, doesn't compare themself all the time, doesn't let people's opinions get under their skin all the time. don't feel bad for doing it every now and then. it's natural and normal and just part of the human experience. nobody is perfect. just focus on you, view other people as inspiration rather than competition, and compare your progress to nobody else's but your own. it's been a game changer for me :)
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I'm sincerely worried for the future considering how media literacy and the concept of source verification is absolutely dead with a loud percentage of Gen Z/Gen Alpha kids. There's also absolutely zero critical thinking or willingness to understand the context of anything, which is doubly worrying. I hope it's just a vocal minority and not a trend across most.
It's unserious when it's about racecar things, but unfortunately I keep seeing it with serious topics, so when I come across it more and more with the unserious stuff I use to escape the serious topics... it stops feeling unserious and becomes really concerning. Super duper not fun, too.
A bit of today's nonsense? Once again preferring to listen to a "source" with zero credibility over literally everyone who is an authority and has a say in everything. Not only that, but to believe the "source" over the well-understood fact that the team's sponsors came on because of who was in the car more than to sponsor the team itself. Etc, etc, etc. Of course I'm talking about girlypops who get their giggles clinging to any "proof" that DR is getting fired.
The absolute unwillingness to see through their biases to at least form sensible or factual backups for their hate of things (not just DR) is embarrassing, frankly. There are so many uneducated fans who use wrong/not credible/misconstrued information to prop up their "arguments," and even when it's an argument I or someone agrees with, they cling to being wrong and attack the people who showed them facts instead of stepping back and reevaluating. They openly refuse to understand how things work, they'd rather spew hate at others (like Alex Albon, for example) than take a breather, learn, and be upset but still remain decent people. They claim to have the highest morals and use that to eviscerate people, but in the same week will unflinchingly prop up someone who is less than a degree separated from a literal fascist because he's a cutie pie.
A few months ago I saw someone say that Gen Z/Gen Alpha are just young Boomers with how they approach media literacy, critical thinking, confirmation bias, and their own hypocrisy and the way they have no regard for the cruelty they show others. I thought it was a horrible thing to say - until I started to realize they might be right. Existing in fandom space has rapidly been supporting that theory.
I'm going to Austin this year. Friendship bracelets are already being made. I can't wait to meet so many people and trade and share stories and experience an incredible sporting event with thousands of fans and a blossoming young, not-cishet-male demographic. And sometimes I think about the fact I'll likely be trading bracelets with people who've wished drivers dead/injured, spread horrible lies about them or their loved ones, actively contributed to ripping down drivers' mental health, and countless other awful things and think it's perfectly okay because it in no way affected them personally.
Anyway.
#formula 1#daniel ricciardo#alex albon#lando norris#yuki tsunoda#charles leclerc#carlos sainz#george russell#logan sargeant#lewis hamilton#oscar piastri#f1#toxic fandom#old lady rant#I'm yelling into the void#off my chest
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“…Excuse me? You don’t know TSL? And you call yourself a human?! Just how clueless ARE you?! How could you not know?! Just the fact that you don’t know TSL alone is proof that you’ve been wasting your life! So, I’m going to do you a favor and teach you about TSL. Make sure you pay attention! The Tale of the Seven Lords, otherwise known as TSL, is a series of fantasy novels written by Christopher Peugeot. It’s a heroic epic spanning 138 volumes, and it’s the most widely-read fantasy series in the world. There are even theatrical versions, an animated series, and feature films, too. And it’s been translated into a total of 182 different languages. The 1990s theatrical version was an utter disaster, owing to the fact that they added several characters that were NOT present in the original manuscript. At the time I was like, “this producer totally needs to crawl into a hole and die!” But then the 2015 version came out, and it was AMAZING! Better than amazing! If you ask me, it showed that needlessly cramming a female lead in there alongside Henry was a bad idea. That’s not what he needs. What he NEEDS is a friend who really understands him, and the 2015 version proved that.
Also, the most vital element of the story is that each of the Seven lords is so unique. They’re all so interesting in their own peculiar way. That’s what makes TSL so great! The lords are all brothers…the oldest is called the Lord of Corruption. He doesn’t come across as being so bad at first, but he’s always plotting and planning in secret. The second oldest is the Lord of Fools, a scumbag who’ll do anything for money. The third oldest is called the Lord of Shadow, a brooding recluse. The fourth oldest is known as the Lord of Masks. He masquerades as a high-status, upstanding member of society, but underneath it all, he’s an inhumane monster. The fifth oldest, the Lord of Lechery, only ever thinks of sex. The sixth oldest is the Lord of Flies, and he only ever thinks of food. The seventh oldest, called the lord of Emptiness. He’s weird…you never know what’s running through his head! It seems most people like the oldest lord, the lord of corruption, the best. Everyone always talks about how great he is. But not me. I like the third Lord way more. Of course, I like Henry too. He’s the protagonist. He’s almost as great as the third lord. The second Lord is total scum, a hopeless degenerate that leads a life of extravagance and indulgence. He’s always causing trouble for the third lord. He’s got these magical pigs that can give birth to solid gold piglets, and he treasures them above all else. So Henry goes and talks to the pigs, and using his wit and powers of persuasion, he convinces them to leave with him. Then, he leads every last one of them away, and presents them to the third lord as a gift! Wow…I mean, they’re SUCH GOOD FRIENDS you can almost feel it! It’s enough to make you cry! Oh, and then there’s that one really awesome moment when the two of them realize they both like and respect each other, and they high-five! I just LOVE that part, you know? I wish I could have a moment like that. …I wish I could be like the third lord. I may be a recluse like him, but we’re totally different, because he’s got an amazing friend like Henry. Check it out. See that goldfish in the fish tank there? He’s actually named Henry. I love TSL so much that I couldn’t help naming him after the main character. But I cant really high-five a goldfish, can I?
The original author of TSL, Christopher Peugeot, he’s actually a human, you know? That’s why I’m so jealous of you guys. Humans are so lucky, you’ve got subscription services that let you watch your favorite anime anytime, you can go to Akihabara whenever you want… Why do only you guys get to experience all the good stuff? I mean, humans’ whole concept of pleasure originally came from us demons, you know? We gave it to you. So, why can’t we have a little bit of it back now, huh? I mean, I want to be able to go to a Japanese maid café, too. I want to hear the maids welcome me as if I’m the master of the house, and have them draw ketchup hearts on my friend ride omelette, to experience the magic of it all. I want to cosplay as Henry, and then go stand in the center of Akihabara, or maybe that one building in Tokyo that’s shaped like upside-down triangles. And once I’m there, I want to perform Henry’s super-powerful signature finishing move for all to see and say the incantation that goes with it. I want to shout it at the top of my lungs!...Actually you know what? I want to BE Henry.”
— Leviathan’s longest TSL rant (Chapter 1-13)
#literally the rant was so long I had to break it up because tumblr wouldn’t let me post it all together#obey me shall we date#obey me quote#obey me quote of the day#obey me leviathan#obey me leviasim#obey me tsl#obey me leviathan quotes#obey me chapter 1
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SHIDOU RYUSEI - NSFW ALPHABET
cw // reader is gn, objectification, sub shidou (top&bottom),, breeding, single mention of period, not proof read, sorry for any odd formatting :(
Aftercare: I’m really sorry, but you’re taking care of him. He likes his hair brushed and a bath, if you’re willing to spoil him.
Body parts: His favorite part of himself is his dick. I wish I could say something like “his smile” or “his eyes” or even “his chest”, but he just wants to show off his cock. Truly a toddler within the adult world.
Cum: Is it even necessary to say? He will blow his load any and everywhere on your body. Unsurprisingly, cum plays a huge role in his enjoyment of sex. He frequently talks about giving you his load, how you’re full of his seed and he’s truly laid his claim on you. If he’s fucking you, it’s going right inside that cute little hole he loves so much.
Dirty secret: He’s never once been a dom ever. He’ll try to act like just this once you’ve forced him into submission, but he just can’t dominate that well since he’s really such a slut. Now, he’ll fuck the shit out of you, that much is for sure, but it’s more like he’s your puppy who does whatever you command. He’s just itching to get inside you.
Experience: Not much actually. Shidou’s disposition isn’t exactly popular, and he’s more of a chaser than the one being chased. That said, it’s not gonna stop him from coming onto you as hard as he can, and he doesn’t back down when you let him have his way with you. The only problem in his mind is that he just can’t quite get ahold of this “daddy dom” concept he always envisioned for himself. Quite the opposite actually.
Favorite position: Missionary (or pegging). If not pegging, cow girl. He really likes looking at you and groping you, so anything with your back turned is a no-no. If you want him on top, he’s going full mating press, drunk with his obsessive breeding kink.
Goofy: He makes a bunch of dirty jokes and flirts so openly that you’d think he considers himself to be pretty unserious during sex, but he’s actually fully serious when he says those things. If he tells you he feels like he’s gonna cum in public like a crazy person, he fully means that he wants you to get him there. He doesn’t mind cum spurting into his underwear or spattering onto his jeans. Because of this, he honestly considers himself to take sex pretty seriously, although by any normal standards, you could say he’s pretty…quirky, to say the least?
Hair: Shidou is well groomed. He’s the kind of guy that shaves his hair into shapes, like a thin triangle above his cock that crawls up towards his belly button. Sex is a pretty important part of self expression too, right?
Intimacy: Shidou would consider himself an intimate person, but to be honest he has a very warped definition of intimacy. Because he’s so shameless and transparent about his desires, no matter how disgusting they sound when cried out during a match, he finds himself drunk on lust and intimacy at any touch. Realistically though, you’re not getting a soft love making session. Either he’s ramming his hips into you, or you’re doing it to him.
Jerking off: Fuck it, he’ll jerk off in public. Of course he’s not so shameless that he’d do it anywhere, but palming himself under the table, fucking his fist in the bathroom, or popping a boner in the middle of practice aren’t necessarily uncommon when you’re near him. He loves to tease you and he loves making himself feel good, so he’s gonna do his best to not get caught and take care of his business, somewhat reasonably at least. Those times when Shidou does get more ‘intimate’ by normal standards are when he’s alone, fisting his cock with drool trailing down his lips. It’s fun when he can tease you, but when you’re not around, he’s dizzy with how much he misses you. He’ll do anything for you. His abs flex and tighten while he writhes when he pinches his nipples, imagining your hand. The only time he’s not chattering lewdly away is when he doesn’t have you on a silver platter in front of him.
Kink: Experimental. But mostly, he lives to breed you, pump you full of his sperm, make sure your body is getting what he believes it needs, especially if you have a certain time of the month.
Location: Anytime, anywhere, he’ll make it work. Do you hate exhibitionism? Fine, he’ll make absolutely sure you don’t get caught. Just let him get inside you!
Motivation: Did you seriously believe he has a reason to want to do you? Please, he feels entitled to being able to since you’re his. But at the end of the day, he does whatever you tell him to, so nothing gets him going more than your permission or request.
No: He’s very willing to do most things. However, he refuses to let anyone else cum inside you. That’s reserved for him. He’ll beat the fuck out of anyone who even jokes about it.
Oral: Seriously, anything you ask, he’ll do. Burying his tongue in you, sucking and kissing you, drinking in your juices…is that supposed to be a chore for him? Because he’d do it for hours if you let him. There’s never just one orgasm with him, and it’s mostly because he’s greedy.
Pace: “Fast, fast, faster, faster, more, harder!” He’ll slam his fists down on the sheets, clawing them hard enough to tear. It doesn’t matter if you’re jack hammering your hips into him, it feels so damn good he just can’t get enough! Thus, he’ll treat you the same way when he’s returning the favor. Of course, if you commanded him to slow down, he’d be forced to listen, panting and drooling as he begged for more, and that’s not so bad either, right?
Quickie: To be honest, he likes taking his time with you (although that really means he just likes getting as many orgasms from you as possible), but quickies are frequent when someone who needs nothing more than to be tamed like Shidou. Sometimes you just have to find some way to shut him up.
Risk: He’ll take whatever risks he wants. There are certain times he’s adamant that no one is allowed to see you, namely Itoshi Rin, but generally he’ll fuck you anywhere you want. Honestly, he likes it when you make him try to keep quiet, it’s a huge turn on.
Stamina: Unlimited.
Toys: Cock rings, butt plugs, floggers, hand cuffs, ball gags, leashes, dildos, vibrators…he’s got quite the extensive collection. You bet he’s been saving up for them.
Unfair: He’ll tease you to the ends of the earth if you want him too, but normally he’s just glad you’re letting him get his dick wet. Maybe unfair in regards that he’s more concerned about his orgasm than yours a lot of the time, but it’s not like he doesn’t make you finish anyway. Sometimes he’s kind of possessive and doesn’t let you wear certain things around people he hates. Not unfair in terms of teasing though.
Volume: Screaming, crying, whimpering, whining, hissing…all of these come at varying volumes at yet he somehow manages to be heard no matter which he does. Part of the reason he likes being told to keep quiet so much is because it makes his nut that much more stimulating since it’s so difficult.
Wild card: He secretly loves when you patronize him and call him cute, especially not in bed. It makes him want to curl up in your arms and squeeze the life out of you. Call him your good boy and he’ll be punching holes in his walls from how riled up it makes him.
X-ray: Chiseled abs, pretty average sized pecs, thick thighs, shapely but toned ass. His favorite though is his fat cock, veiny, curved, not too big but definitely made up for in shape.
Yearning: Are you kidding?? That’s all he does. In a non sexual sense, he just wants to see you. Just let him look at you, and it makes him feel so much better. He feels somewhat unsettled when not seeing you for several days.
Zzz: You’d think this puppy falls asleep in seconds after you tell him you’re done, and that’s what he wants you to think too. Really he just cuddles up to you and closes his eyes until you fall asleep. Then he sits up and looks over you. For someone who’s always making a racket, it’s silent for once as he lays a small kiss on your forehead and watches your still form rising and falling, his chest tightening almost painfully in endearment.
#blue lock#bllk#bluelock#rambling#ブルーロック#not sfw#my work#shidou ryusei#shidou#shidou smut#shidou x reader#shidou x you#shidou x y/n#blue lock x reader#blue lock smut#alphabet
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Big Bunny
Playboy Bunny Reader x Elvis on the Playboy jet request
it might be 3:30am here, i may have work today at 9 and i may have to proof read over this again tomorrow but still, here, have a bunny themed fic - very apt for a slightly (at least for where i am) belated good friday gift (for those who celebrate and a spring themed passover/ramadan/weekend gift for everyone else) !!
I genuinely did not expect to end up doing nearly as much research for this as I did - and therefore there ended up being significantly more back story than I anticipated for what I had planned to be a short smutty one shot lol so… here’s a p ridiculous 9.8k fill xx
pairing: jet bunny reader x 1973-4 elvis (yes we are going that specific this time) - early big daddy era.
summary: freshly hired shy new playboy bunny reader and elvis get up to some fun away from the other passengers on Hugh Hefner's private plane, the aptly named 'Big Bunny'.
warnings: 18+, 18+, penetrative sex (p in v), oral (v receiving), lil bit of fingering, gratuitous use of the term 'bunny' and all accompanying euphemisms, elvis (as always in my writing) refers to himself as daddy.
wc: 9.8k
You nervously adjust your scarf around your neck; it’s windy, and you’re worried about your hair—that its carefully styled easy look might be ruined by the breeze. You roll from one foot to the other in anticipation; you can already feel the leather of the new, tall boot starting to rub behind your knee, and you’re hopeful for the chance to switch it out for your regular heels on board. The other girls are quiet, and that’s how you can tell that they too are nervous or excited—anticipatory perhaps. Usually, they would be chattering away right now—at least, that’s your experience from the last few flights you’d worked. But for some reason, the knowledge of this special guest had made them all fall silent, worrying their scarves or hair, and checking one another’s lipsticks, even more so than when Hugh was on board. Perhaps it was, like the Bunny bible said, because there was the knowledge that you were all representatives of the brand, and that was even more true for someone who wasn’t the owner of the brand, or perhaps it was simply because it wasn’t just any boring old investor but Elvis Presley flying on board today.
You’re all too young to remember much of him in his early prime or his dizzying launch to success, but you know that every girl in this line-up had watched the ’68 special, probably at a similar formative age to you, and had an experience; it had been impossible not to. You had been on the cusp of being 16 and were utterly gobsmacked and captivated by the television set as you watched him gyrate in a full black leather suit. Your mind had gone blank, and you couldn’t have told anyone what your father had said about it—you honestly couldn’t hear him because you were so shocked and excited by what you were seeing. Suddenly, you understood. You’d all discussed the marvel of the possibilities of the use of the satellites for the Aloha show only a few months ago, and you knew you weren’t the only bunny in the group who still found him almost alarmingly attractive. The concept, therefore, of being loaned out to him with the plane made you more than a little nervous. Another fragment of your anxiety for this flight also revolved around your new uniform—you weren’t comfortable in it yet; a teeny leatherette dress that somehow seemed far more revealing than your corset had ever seemed. Perhaps because it felt less like a costume in some way, perhaps because it simply was so unlike anything you would wear in day-to-day life—the over-the-knee boots were uncomfortable still too.
It’s unclear how you’d become so attached to the little corset costume when you were still so new to the plane and to this life as a whole. You’d been well-trained and ready to use your newfound, extensive bar knowledge while working as a table bunny in the club in LA. Although you had hoped that you might be spotted and bumped up to a more senior position in a little while—that one day you might be able to work your way up to the mansion or maybe even be handpicked to be a playmate—it all seemed so glamorous, and the attention was so exciting. You’d never dreamed you would, after only working a month, be handpicked as a jet bunny. It had been one of the most exciting moments of your life. Since then, you’ve not been flying for very long, although the training had been intense and your first flight had only been two weeks ago. And it had been a pretty slow start, with just Hugh and a couple of colleagues on board. They had their favourites, and while you had been chatted to and flirted with—treated well—you had also been mostly ignored.
Elvis, as far as you could tell, didn’t have favourites; he hadn’t requested anyone in particular from the thirty or so girls on regular rotation for the jet, and it made you relieved to think that you were on a mostly even keel with the other girls. You’d gossiped about it as you packed your bags onto the plane before you’d all ended up where you were now: standing in a row waiting for him to pull up, having been given word that he was mere minutes away. When you looked down at the other girls, you couldn’t help but wonder why, as one man with a small entourage for the flight, he really needed the bunny equivalent of five stewardesses. But, you think to yourself, at least he did because, as the most junior of the bunch, you definitely would have been the first to be bumped from the flight.
It’s only another few minutes until his long, sleek, white Cadillac pulls up in front, another car close behind, and his long legs are immediately sliding out of the car, almost before its even come to a complete stop. He seems eager to be away. He’s arguing with someone and barely acknowledges any of you as he starts to storm up the stairs towards the jet entrance—clearly familiar with the plane already. It becomes pretty clear pretty quickly that he wasn’t arguing with someone physically with him but was instead recounting what had been discussed on the phone in the car—you could hear him swearing as he went inside,
"I fuckin’ asked her to come out here with me, and now she’s being all cold, just then she was sayin’ she don’t wanna see me -" You can’t hear anything more, and you look down the row before Darla in front shrugs her shoulders and starts greeting the other couple of men still coming out of the car, and in the car behind, there were around a dozen guys in total, no women other than you five, which wasn’t unusual on the jet but wasn't entirely expected either.
A moment later, Elvis is hurrying back down the stairs, panting slightly as he comes. He arrives back in front of you, the last in line, with a series of apologies.
"Lord, where are my manners? I’m so sorry, girls. Hello, nice to meet ya; well, aren’t you all pretty little things?" You blush, and he catches your eye, winking at you as he presses a kiss to your cheek. He smiles at the rest of them, and Darla launches into her ‘Welcome to Big Bunny’ spiel as she directs him back up the way he just came. Your mind is racing as you follow them all up the stairs, and you’re more than a little distracted as you close the door and conduct the safety checks. Does that mean something? That he singled you out?
You weren’t meant to be his main assistant; of course, the main focus for today was keeping him happy, but you’d been specifically told that your purpose was to make sure the other passengers felt that they were getting similar attention. You didn’t have the experience, as Darla had told you, to understand how to deal with men like him. Those that think they’re special or that just because you’re wearing a bunny outfit they have some sort of claim on you, that you’re all the same and your centrefold is owed to them. And also, she’d flippantly added, you were still very inexperienced, and first and foremost she had to consider the brand. Now as you watch her take his arm up the stairs, you think you might be understanding her motivations a little more; her hips swaying more than they usually would. But you can’t say you blame her or that her other observations were wrong. You were inexperienced, both in flying and with men. But, as you’re locking the door shut and heading around to fetch towels and drinks before the pilots engage the engine, you can feel his eyes on you, and you think, I know what that means.
It’s a pretty long flight for a domestic flight—four or five hours, depending on the route the pilot takes—so you have plenty of time to get to know the passengers and ensure they’re all well taken care of. You’ve heard rumours from some of the other girls that this kind of flight can often go one of two ways: either the men are rowdy, raucous, and handsy, or they’re quiet, appreciative, but distant. You had assumed Elvis and his entourage would be the former, but from the way he quickly gets himself situated and settled in the forward compartment, you’re inclined to believe it will be the latter. You can’t help but notice he’s sequestered himself in the back; a couple of the men are with him, but the rest are a series of seats away. It seems like even the inner circle has an inner circle.
Before serving the drinks, you have a chance to look over at him. Trying to be inconspicuous, you’re surprised at how large he is. You’ve never realised how tall he really is, but he’d remained a few inches taller than you even in your heels, and while the plane is more spacious and furnished less compactly than the average, it still serves to make him seem bigger in contrast to the environment. He seems to take up more space than his body needs too, like his presence needs allowance; he looks incapable of staying on one seat, and the way he spreads his legs, his knees falling open, it’s like he doesn’t even realise he might be taking up more than his fair share of space.
You don’t realise how long you’ve been standing there, peering behind a partition wall, pretty much directly at his spread thighs. Until you move your eyes up, tracking up his body past his famously large belt to his open collared shirt, through which you can see tiny wisps of chest hair peeking through. You assess how his shirt is lying on him, clinging but well-tailored, and his trousers too, tight around his thighs and well-fitted on his waist but equally well-tailored, looking comfortable and well-fitted. Your eyes continue to roam over him until they come to rest on his face, and you realise he’s been watching you look at him. He’s smirking at you, clearly used to the attention but perhaps still flattered that he inspires it, and winks through his lavender-coloured glasses. You immediately duck back, taking a moment to gather yourself from the embarrassment of being caught out, before heading back out with the first tray of drinks.
It wasn’t your place to be, but you couldn’t help but be pleased when he showed himself not to be the type to start demanding wildly complicated cocktails—in fact, rolling his eyes when one of the men, Red, perhaps his name was, asked for a mai tai—and at his clear desire to remain sober, simply requesting a Pepsi. You take a breath, plastering your customer service smile on, determined to ignore any embarrassment, and swing around with the tray. Praying you don’t trip or spill anything in front of him.
Thankfully, you make it around without consequence, your thorough club training coming into play and keeping you steady even when there’s a mild bump as the plane engines start to roar. He grins up at you when you hand him the drink, and you can’t help but return it, beaming at him, forgetting your practised coquettish expression. You have to head back, sit down for a moment while the pilots announce your takeoff, and try not to grimace, knowing that your face can be seen from the compartment, at the feeling of taking off. You’re fine in the air, but that whooshing feeling of the plane jetting forward and up, the moment where you can feel the balance of the wings against the air as the engine battles its way up, still sends a wave of anxiety over you. Maggie brushes her hand over yours where it lies on the little armrest between the steward seats, and you thankfully grasp it, taking deep breaths. Once the pilot has announced you are officially flying and will be for approximately four more hours, you’re pleased you can finally stand up again and relax somewhat.
You’re not really needed for much for a little while, so you bounce about, chatting and keeping them company, talking with some of the other girls as you help to serve more drinks and food, and setting up the games tables when asked. Elvis has demanded the theatre be set up, so you arrange that, praying that when you return to the room he’ll have picked one of the latest cinematic releases and not, as you feared, one of the many adult releases available. You’re not sure you could keep a straight face if you had to watch him watch Deep Throat; it would just be too much to bear.
So you’ve avoided the lounge by staying in the forward compartment and helping the men there. Before you were sent on a mission to see if there was any peanut butter on board, a special request had apparently been made, but whether it had been complied with was yet to be seen. When Michelle, one of the more senior girls, suddenly appeared beside you, grabbing your arm and speaking in a hurried, hushed tone, she told you that you really ought to change. You panic for a second that something was wrong with your dress, but she’s quick to assure you that it was nothing like that. But Elvis had taken her aside and mentioned that although he "love[s] your yittle skirts, like yer spies or somethin’," he was "missin’ them little bunny outfits" and had left that with her. He hadn’t specifically requested anyone should change, but she’d successfully read between the lines of the very obvious hint and was, therefore, suggesting that you, Daisy, and Maggie change into your bunny corsets. You’d all planned for this possibility, so it wasn’t entirely unexpected, but you were still slightly surprised. You’d not been given the impression that Elvis had been that bothered by the theme of the plane, of you, but rather was utilising the plane for the luxury and convenience of the travelling experience. But if he was requesting your bunny outfits, clearly he was more into it than you thought.
It’s not long after that you do as requested and emerge from the powder room in your little patented corset teddy, the black silk highlighting your complexion and the little collar and bow emphasising your neckline. You were slightly annoyed that despite your careful packing, your little cottontail puff had been flattened, and so you’d had to spend way too long fluffing it to bring it back to life. This also meant that you were the last to emerge, and there was no way you could deny noticing that Elvis himself was sitting back in the forward compartment, turned so that he was practically facing the powder room door, watching you exit with a satisfied smirk on his face. You try to ignore him, listening to the conversations happening around you and trying to anticipate everyone’s needs. In your absence, more substantial snacks have been served, and you can see the remnants of some sort of peanut butter sandwich situation dotted around the room, so clearly that had been found too. There’s now a discussion happening about whether you should turn on the lights in the disco room or wait a little while to eat first. Eventually, it’s decided a proper meal is imperative at some point in the flight, but that right now? They wanted music.
So you all move down the plane. You end up walking directly behind Elvis, and when the plane bumps up and down briefly in the tiniest spot of turbulence, you trip into his back. You right yourself with help from one of his arms, apologising, but you’re flustered. It’s only worse when he turns to you.
"No need to be sorry, doll; you can fall into my arms whenever you like." It was one thing to imagine how he felt, but to be able to remember the feel of him, even from behind, even from just a brief moment of contact, was a heady feeling. Especially when he felt just as you’d imagined he would—soft but firm and broad. So broad. Walking behind him like this also made you nervous for another reason: it made you feel as if your movement down towards the intimate bedroom quarters at the end might be signalling something. The cosiness of the rooms between -- the disco and the lounge, perhaps reflective of the internal struggle you’re facing; the disco the butterflies in your belly.
You know you won’t be able to prevent meeting his eye again. The thought worries you; you’ve been around attractive men before, of course, but never one that, just by looking at him once, has made you feel like you would risk giving up everything for a few hours of fun. Lose everything you have simply for the pleasure of touching him. Maybe this was what Darla was concerned about; you can see her glance over to you every now and again, checking in, and you can tell she’s a little bothered by something.
Once you’re in the disco, the girls and you are well-practised at setting it all up, making sure there are enough tracks ready to be played and that there was easy access to free-flowing drinks and bar snacks. You’re also all very used to essentially having to start the dancing yourselves, having to encourage the others to join in despite their enthusiasm in suggesting the disco. You hang back slightly, holding a tray, when Elvis lightly grasps your elbow. You jump, having not seen him come to your side, and look questioningly at him.
"Dance for me, baby?" You’re not a stripper or a go-go dancer or anything like that, but it’s not a request that’s unheard of in the clubs. And you enjoy it; you wouldn’t be in the job if you didn’t get a slight thrill from being looked at, watched, wanted. So it’s easy to agree, especially when you’ve always found it hard to ignore a man when he adds a pet name, and besides, you want to. So you do. Elvis sits himself down, and a few of the men join in, and you and Maggie and Daisy all dance around them. You prance and shimmy, and soon most of the passengers onboard are dancing around to the music that plays from the surround system.
The group cheered and laughed when Burning Love was played on the 8-track, and Elvis sang along, laughing and joking when he missed one of the high notes ("God almighty, that’s high"). You notice that after a while Elvis has disappeared back into the living area and looks like he might be close to nodding off; sat there with his head back. You suppose he must be tired—you don’t know what he was doing prior to the flight this afternoon, but you do know he was coming off of the back of a week straight of shows and heading towards another one. You again know it’s not your place, and yet you still can’t help feeling like you ought to check on him.
You head over, leaning over, and crouching in the way you’re told to, almost in a bunny dip. He blinks up at you when you touch his shoulder.
"Lord, you’re a vision." You’re taken aback and can’t do much more than crouch there, stuck in place. "Talk with me, honey?" He pats your arm, and you nod, standing upright again and looking for a place to perch. There’s nowhere for you to sit down, or perch, few seats as there were in this living area, attached to the disco, and with the other men and girls also collapsing around you, you awkwardly look around for a moment before Elvis’ hand comes out and wraps around your thigh, pulling you down onto his lap.
"Oh!" You gasp, "Oh, I—I, uh, don’t think you’re meant to touch me, sir."
"Bunny, for the next three hours, I own you." He chuckles but removes his hands from your legs, although he makes no attempt to shift you from his lap, instead sitting further back, causing you to fall more securely onto his lap. You avoid what is sure to be judging looks from the other girls as they hand him drinks and chat with the other boys on board. You’re wrong about them watching you and judging you; of course, all the other girls are distracted, and even when they do glance over, it’s mostly to check that you, as the new girl, are still doing okay. Despite any jealousy they may be feeling about the attention he’s giving you, they still know how shocking and abrupt all of this can suddenly feel when you’re being confronted with men like him.
He’s surprised when you look shy, and you know the rumours abound—about how you’re all able to make extra cash—the private parties for the number one keyholders. But it’s not something you’re forced into just by virtue of being a bunny, and it’s not something you’ve been interested in finding out more about. Still, being perched on his firm lap, the seams of his suit rubbing against your silk tights, you can’t help but wish that you had asked more about it; found out if there were expectations. You wouldn’t want to let him down. You awkwardly sit there a moment before opening your mouth,
“So, uh, what did you wanna talk about?” He smiles,
“Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself honey.” So you do, giving him the basic information of your life, while he hmms and uh-huhs in all the right moments to show he’s listening to you. You’re starting to run out of steam and you’re about to ask him to tell you something when you’re distracted by him reaching to the side of you, jostling you a little.
He lights a cigar, and you can feel the heat of the tip. You shift the tiniest bit; you don’t know why it’s getting you so hot. You’re suddenly grateful for the subtle but multiple layers you’re wearing. Thankful for the fact that you’ve never listened to the few girls who swear it makes more sense not to bother with panties; you’d never been convinced that it wasn’t asking for trouble—something was sure to slip or become exposed. But you also always wore a double layer of pantyhose. He grunts the tiniest bit as you bump back into his stomach, and when you pause for a moment, you can feel a dampness growing between your legs. Through all the layers, he can’t feel it, thank God, but he does murmur to you: "Lord, are you a hot little Bunny." He strokes the small of your back, and you somehow know he doesn’t just mean it in the attractive sense, but that he can feel your heat.
You wriggle back against him, thinking, - don’t waste your chance, girl; don’t do it; you may as well go for it. All of your sense of propriety is lost, and you’re suddenly completely ignorant of the happenings around you. You can feel where the rubber around the edge of the leg bands of the teddy is starting to roll, being unable to stay put on the slippery tights and causing it to fall further away from your thighs riding up. You know he can feel it too, as close as you are. And while you’re still theoretically clothed, you can feel his trouser leg better on your thigh after it rolled up; he said you were hot, but he’s burning, it feels like. You push back onto him, feeling his tummy nudge against you, and under your tail, what felt like a growing erection. You don’t know what’s come over you, where this sexual confidence, this determination, this lack of self-consciousness, has come from. You wonder if it could just be the adrenaline of being so close, but you still go with it, and you nudge your ass back to him, grinding a little.
"Don’t baby," he pushes you forward a little, with his one free hand, blowing smoke past the side of your face, and you giggle, putting on a faux deep voice.
"Don’t procrastinate; don’t articulate…" You can’t even get the words out of your mouth you’re giggling so hard, wiggling in his lap, and it sets him off too, shaking his head and murmuring against your ear.
"Lord save me, girlie, you’re trouble, ain’t ya?" He holds you still. You try, but you’re practically incoherent because you’re laughing so hard.
"If you're lookin' for..." But your laughter cuts off when he hooks a finger in the corset and strokes it down your inner thigh—somewhere that you would have slapped anyone else and whispers,
"You came to the right place." You gasp, head going back, and his own tucking into your shoulder - he holds out the cigar, and, despite having barely lit it, rests it in the tray to the side of you so that he can use both hands to grip your waist. It’s ridiculously cheesy, and you don’t want to think about how many times and with how many girls he might have used similar lines, or how easy it must be for him.
"You want me, Bunny?" You still don’t know if you should be playing hard to get or if you should just give in to the inevitability of it all. "Can feel your little tail pressin’ into me - little puffy thing. Twitching ‘gainst me;" You wrinkle your nose cutely at his words, and he smiles into your neck: "Even a little twitchin’ bunny nose!" he presses a finger to it, and the strokes down to your lips. He rests it there for a second, "Do you wanna do this, bun?" You decide you may as well give in and nod—there's no point trying to play it cool when you’re sitting on his lap. You open your mouth, trying to catch his finger in your teeth as he fools around with you. He pulls you around, so one of your bent knees is now pressed against him and your other is resting on the seat, facing him. You shiver, loving how his sturdy hands manhandle you. You lean forward, as if to kiss him, when he stills you,
"Baby, we’re surrounded." You glance up, confused expression on your face, and a question in your eyes: Why would it matter? They all know the score. He shakes his head. "It’s your job isn’t it? You can’t - we shouldn’t?" You shrug your shoulders, he’s technically right and mere minutes ago you’d been worried about it yourself, but... It’s also not completely true to say that you would be discouraged from doing this with him.
"Say doll, how’d’ya - how’d’ya feel about joinin’ me?" Your heart flips, you glance around, but it appears the other girls are either preoccupied or purposefully avoiding looking at you. Plausible deniability. You’re frozen, and he stands up, pushing off of his lap, and leaves without looking back at you, only stopping at the door to the bedroom to call back,
"You coming or what?" So sure that you’ll follow him in. You glance around, and only Darla catches your eye. You’re wide-eyed and panicked at being caught, but she looks at you for a moment before nodding slightly and winking as she turns away. Somehow, it untangles the ball of anxiety that you didn’t realise was holding you so tense. Seconds later, you stand up, clearing the empty glasses from the tables around you, when Michelle swoops in, taking them out of your hands and nudging you with her hip towards the bedroom. Right then. You follow where Elvis had gone only a minute or so ago, and you cross past the little faux wood door into the bedroom. You look around but find that he’s already in the bathroom—perhaps so certain that you would follow that he didn’t even need to check that you had come in.
You sit anxiously on the big, round, fur-covered bed as you wait for him to reappear. You cross your legs before immediately uncrossing them and standing up—wondering if it was too presumptuous to be sitting there waiting for him. A moment later, leaning against the wall, you change your mind, deciding to sit on the edge again. It really did make the most sense. And while you didn’t want to make it seem like you were assuming something, you doubted he’d invited you back here to play checkers. He comes out and watches you for a brief second before coming over to stand in front of you, mere inches apart, so you’re forced to crane your neck up to look at him.
You’re a little skittish, and he can tell by the way you tremble when his hand comes up to touch your shoulder; he leans forward as if to kiss you, and you pull back. He pauses.
"What’s the matter, little Bunny? Why are’ya so twitchy now?" He doesn’t want to force himself, but he also can tell you want him, even before you willingly followed him here. He also knows that you must know the score—you can’t be that innocent in your role—and you must understand what he’s asking of you.
"I’m, I’m just -- it’s just a little surreal, you’re Elvis Presley. I don’t know how to, I've never been with anyone famous." He smiles, thankful that he hadn’t misread the situation — god forbid what the newspapers would have said about that if it had leaked: Elvis forces himself onto Playboy Bunny, BANNED from Hefner’s jet. It doesn’t bear thinking about. So he does the one thing he knows he can do well — can do so well that most women forget their worries and tilts your chin up to kiss you. He brackets your body with his thighs and cups your face in both hands. He’s masterful at it, knowing all the right moves, just the right amount of tongue forced into you, mapping your mouth. His lips are so soft, and his little nibbling bites on your lower lip hurt just the right amount for you to be totally consumed by his actions. He nudges you to move further up when you break apart, and you shimmy up a little, your legs coming up so that only your ankles are not on the bed. He presses one knee between your legs, balancing so he can move forward enough to kiss your cheek, his own high cheekbones rubbing against your face, and whisper,
"I’m just a man, hon, just like any other — don’t, don’t worry ‘bout it." He leans over and you’re forced onto your back, his hand catching you and lowering you down gently onto the fur coverlet. You lean up to kiss the exposed part of his neck, your nose nudging against his high collar.
"I, uh, god, I haven’t been around that many men in general — not like this, so that doesn’t actually make me feel a whole lot better. " You respond quietly. He pauses where his hand had been starting to fiddle with the zipper on the back of your corset. Pulling himself up to look you in the eyes.
"You, have - you have been with a man though? Right Doll?" You nod, frantically, you might be nervous but god don’t let him stop now.
"Yes - yes, just, just only the one." He moans on top of you, clearly liking the answer. You feel the zipper come down, and your chest is finally allowed to expand properly again, free from the restrictive boning. You suddenly panic, holding the garment close to your chest as you force him back a little. He rolls sideways, onto his elbow, to watch you;
"What’sthe matter baby?" He looks concerned as you force yourself up into a sitting position,
"Uh, could you - could you just close your eyes or something while I take this off?" He frowns,
"Well, sure, but… I don’t think you need to worry ‘bout modesty right now." You smile nervously back, trying for a blasé air —
"No, no, I know it’s just — it would just make me feel better." He looks at you, clutching the corset teddy to your chest. He nods, starting to close his eyes and you let out a sigh of relief, immediately standing up and wriggling out of it. You’re bent over, folding the fabric over itself when he starts to talk,
"I ain’t got a problem making you comfortable, babe, but if it’s about them little cottontails stuffed down your top I already know." You pause. Whirling around to see him peeking through his lashes at you. You forget to be shy, stood there topless, braless in nothing but your pantyhose and heels and you put your hands on your hips.
"How on earth —“ He laughs at you, opening his eyes properly,
"I’m not new to this game sweetheart." You can tell he’s teasing, but now he’s made you slightly worried that it's always been obvious thatyou weren’t quite as endowed as you were claiming,
"How’d you tell though?"
"You’re not the first girl meeting me with something stuffed down their shirt, darling, you just, sometimes you can just tell— I don’t know what you’d be stressin’ over though," He takes a moment to very obviously look you over, "they’re some pretty little tits." You’re pleased, but annoyed that he’s still decided to use the term little.
"Well - isn’t that why! Little!" He laughs at your indignation, reaching a hand out to pull you back to him, but he can barely speak through his giggles.
"No, no, no I didn’t mean it like that." You frown, but his amusement is infectious and you find yourself also giggling - "See, see, there’s a good girl - no reason to be sore about it, much more than what you’ve got’sa waste anyway mama, you’ll see."
He puts you back where he wanted you to start with - on your back, as leans over you. The feeling of him still being fully clothed against your chest, your near nakedness, makes you tremble - the soft silk of his shirt rubbing against your nipples. You can smell him, the slight musk of the day masked by cologne - perhaps reapplied in the bathroom a moment ago. His hair is looser than you expected it to be and it’s already starting to flop forward, it unnerves you slightly because it allows you to somehow forget who it is lying over you - the loss of that trademark making you forget that he’s practically a patented figure at this point. Until you catch sight of his blue eyes or his little curled lip and you’re reminded all over again. He strokes up from your waist to your neck and then back down, gentle fingertips dancing over your skin. He leans down to kiss you and your arm winds around his neck, pulling him closer. You’ve never felt a hunger like this. Desire like this before. You’re suddenly desperate to be closer, forgetting to play it cool you’re tugging at his shirt,
"C’mon get this off!" He laughs at you again, but stands up, ignoring your request. You lie there on your back looking up at him as he assesses you. You can’t help but puff your chest out a little and curve your back. Then he bends to grasp your left ankle, slipping your heel off. You yelp at the unexpectedly quick motion but the relief is almost immediate. He grabs your other ankle to take the other heel off, flinging it against the wall of the plane. Then his hands are immediately going to your black tights, he tries to pull them from the ankle but quickly realises that’s getting him nowhere, unable to get a proper purchase on the slippy material. So he works his way up to the waistband, grasping it and tugging it down. His finger catches by your knee, the rough bitten edge of his nail snagging and you hear the tell-tale ripping sound of them laddering, He laughs as you groan,
"Oh, no! Those were my last good pair; they cost me nearly seven dollars!" It only makes him laugh harder as he tears them off of you.
"Tell you what, honey, I’ll make sure you have ten new pairs by the time we land." He throws them somewhere near the rest of your clothes and turns his attention back to your stomach, only to be surprised when he’s met with another pair of pantyhose — this time in a sheer nude.
"Lordy! How many layers’is there?" You laugh at him, as he begins the process of rolling them down too — lifting your hips to allow them to come down easier than last time; it’s not that you don’t believe he would replace them, but just in case you’d prefer not to rip these too.
"Not meant to be being touched am I, Mr Presley?" It’s like, as he exposes more of your skin, he can’t help himself from pausing — the tights stay rolled around your knees to allow him to kiss your thighs, or the patch of skin between your belly button and your panties. You lift your leg, allowing him to roll down the last of the hosiery. He rubs over the arch of your foot and you moan at the relief — you may be getting used to the heels now but it didn’t mean that your feet didn’t still ache as soon as they came off. He gives the same attention to the other foot, rubbing firmly, before physically pushing you up the bed.
"Oh darling, call me Elvis." He strokes up your calves, before he stops again at your feet, "God, has anyone ever told you you’ve got real pretty sooties, Lordy these little toes are gorgeous." You wiggle them at him, you’ve never given much thought to your feet other than deciding what colour to paint your nails. He pulls your foot towards him, lifting your leg up. He kisses along the ball of it, before taking your big toe into his mouth.
You had never, ever, been turned on by the thought of someone playing, or sucking your feet, but suddenly it’s like electricity zapping up your legs to your tummy and core — you can feel yourself growing damp just from his gentle tongue lapping around your toes and you can’t help little moans falling from your mouth. You’re normally ticklish but this time the sensation forms little jolts through your tummy, making it flip slightly, and butterflies form. He lets go with a little pop, his lips forming the perfect round little ‘O’ of suction and the warm wet heat is suddenly released, causing the air to feel colder and your feet more sensitive than ever before. When you look at him standing there, holding your ankle, caressing your calve you have a sudden flash of what it must be like to be a man — and suddenly you think you can understand why men love being sucked so much. The sight of him, his lips red, your toes wet, is overwhelmingly erotic.
He keeps going - right up your foot, before he holds your leg up, kissing up it before he put his knees on the bed again, lowering your limb to allow him to kneel over you. He places little kisses up your thighs, and you can feel his chin rubbing against your stomach as he kisses his way up there, he uses one elbow to lean on, keeping himself somewhat horizontal, but his other hand is following his lips.
"Time to prove it to you, little bun-bun." He whispers against your sternum, before turning his head, licking a line across your breast and capturing your nipple in his mouth. His hand reaches to squeeze your other, pinching the nipple until it hardens into a little nub. He pulls off of where he’s been sucking and blows onto you. The cool air over your wet nipple sends a jolt straight to your pussy — it’s clearly an education for you tonight since you’d also never before known how sensitive your chest really was. He laps at the other side, giving it a similar treatment, palming the breast around it. While you gasp and wiggle underneath him you can feel his length straining in his trousers, and the slight feel of his lowly buttoned shirt, allowing you to feel a slither of the hairs on his chest and tummy is enough to send your arousal into overdrive. You start tugging at his top and trying to feel around his waist to undo one of the belts that had become synonymous with his image, far more insistently than before. Demanding he takes it off, even as the words fail to make it out of your mouth alongside the moans and gasps caused by his ministrations. He pulls back, planting one last kiss on the side of your chest and laughs at you when you beg.
"Please, gotta see you, wanna see all of you - please Elvis, dreamed about this, gotta see it." But still, he complies with your request, sitting himself up to strip off his shirt; unbuttoning the last few buttons and then standing to kick off his trousers, pulling off his belt. You stare at him. Incapable of doing anything else. He’s carrying more weight than before, especially around his middle, although he’s still clearly a man of generally slim build, padded tummy over muscle. But regardless of his weight, or maybe because of it, he’s still beautiful. You reach for him when he lies back down, stroking the hair on his head - the hair that ensures you recognise that this is no longer the slicked-back hair of his Hollywood days and that he’s no longer a boy in anyway but a man and you need only look at his chest to remind you of that. The few sparse hairs that used to be there have been joined by a collection covering his chest and stomach in a soft carpet.
His hands move back down the sides of your body and he whispers to you, "Lift up baby," as you would while trying to undress a child to pull your panties down and off of you — throwing them god-knows-where also. You wriggle, nervous and self-conscious as he stares at you. He’s flushed pink down his face and chest, and he looks you over, assessing. He nods, clearly satisfied and smiles when you breathe a sigh of relief. You bring a hand down, and he follows with his own, going to stroke you.
"God Bunny, you’re dripping." And it’s true, your inner thighs were already sticky with your own slick and you’re genuinely not sure you’ve ever felt this wet without having even touched yourself. He brushes over you lightly, circling your clit, before going to press a single finger into you. Your own hand rests on top of his, ostensibly as if you were guiding him, but really being dragged by him. You let out a moan as he pulls your hand down to join his, directing and tugging your finger to join his, pulling them both out and pushing them back in together as if your two hands made one. It feels wild, it’s so out there, your soft hand intertwined with his rougher fingers pressed against one another as they delve into your most intimate place.
You’re not unused to the sensation in general but his singular finger alone was similar to two of your own and so you can feel a slight burn at your entrance, a barely-there sting that cuts through the pleasure. Like a pinch of salt atop a cookie, it only enhances the flavour — the feel andyourhips circle around as his thumb finds its way up to rub at your clit.
"Gotta make sure you’re nice and loose for me huh baby, just like a new set’a wheels gotta grease you up." You moan at his words, the objectification for some reason really doing something for you. He uses his other fingers to stroke gently at you and the tickling sensation is almost enough to tip you over the edge. He seems to hold you there for a miraculously long time, and you realise you probably ought to be trying to return the favour so you reach down to tug at his hard cock. It’s a different feel than what you were used to, you’d never been around an uncut penis before, and you didn’t really know what to do with it other than pretend that it was exactly the same as the two others you’d touched. He winces slightly when you roll your palm over before his foreskin has retracted back causing you to roll the skin around, pinching him as you try. He bats your hand out of the way, pumping himself. You take note and recreate his actions as best you can, and you know you’ve hit the sweet spot when his own hips jerk and his hand tightens around your wrist. He pulls his fingers out from you, dragging your hand back with him and flings your arm away, before going back down with three fingers, he prods them at your entrance, testing the boundary before slowly sinking them in. You whine at him, panting,
"Please, god, Elvis, you gotta, I’m ready for you, I swear I’m ready for you," he pulls his fingers out, and pushes your hand away from his cock, rolling you firmly onto your back and kneeling himself up again.
"Ok, Ok, Bunny, ok, I hear ya, I can feel you’re ready for me, just, just didn’t wanna hurt you, just wanna make you feel good little Bunny." He pulls your hips towards him and lines himself up.
He thrusts into you, pulling you onto him and you whine as you feel his sticky head stretching you open. Despite your claims of being ready for him it has been a while. His stomach is resting on yours, his tummy pressing down on you. It’s almost like he’s smothering you, he’s entirely enveloping you. His hands are holding your waist, bracketing you to him. If it were anyone else you think you might find it claustrophobic, so close together that your breath is mingling, you can see his pores, feel his belly button. But for some reason it just makes you want even more of him, getting as close as humanely possible, desperate for however much you can get. His taste, his smell, his everything.
"Oh god," as he pushes in further, devastatingly slowly, "Tight as a fucking virgin aren’t ya… you sure you haven’t still got your cherry? Sure I’m not about to - ah - pop it ‘gain?" You moan, trying to relax your breathing from its quickened state as you adjust to him inside you. He moves one of his hands to touch you, feeling where you’re spread open and up to press your clit, and you buck up involuntarily at the contact, forcing a few more inches of him in. He groans at the unexpected tight pressure and heat. You clutch at his shoulders as he responds with his thumb speeding up on you. He drives into you, and you clench down as you start to feel his fingers doing their job, along with his cock jabbing against your internal walls. You don’t recognise the noises coming out of your mouth, they’re not the practised noises that you might expect from a woman of your occupation, but the very real moans and groans from a woman surprised at how this could feel.
He’s breathing heavily, and you can see the sweat starting to form, but he keeps the pace — clearly, his near-constant performances have maintained his stamina. A bead of it starts to form on his brow and you watch it drip, slowly, down his cheek towards the little patch of sideburns. You suddenly yearn to taste it, it’s sure to be salty, and maybe a little sweet, but his musky smell is already filling your nostrils and you can’t help but want to lick it. You try to distract yourself, don’t want to embarrass yourself like that, how unbecoming that would be. You try to look at a point beyond his shoulders, but you fail when you feel his hot, large, heavy, hand on you - cupping your cheek and drawing your eyes back to his face.
"Where ya going little Bunny?" He huffs, "Stay with me." He’s pleading with you and it immediately catches your attention. You nod, frantically, as his hips rock back and forth into you. He grips your waist and hips tight and leans closer, pausing in his rutting to press into you, deep, and catching your mouth with his. When he pulls off of you, he goes to kiss the side of your face, curving over himself to kiss your neck and you can see another drip of swear forming. It’s too much to take and you reach with your hands, both of them cupping his head, pulling him back up to your eye level from your shoulder. He looks up slightly confused at why you’ve stopped him but his eyes quickly roll closed as you lean forward,
"Wanna taste you, let me taste you daddy." He nods, and you hold his head in place, kissing the side of his mouth, before licking his cheek, little kitten licks before a broader stripe up to his temples, where the sweat is forming. You were right; it’s sweet and salty, manly. His hips stutter a little and you can feel him twitch inside you, your own walls fluttering and clenching a little in response to his feel and taste. He pulls back a few inches, about to thrust back into you but you put a hand on his chest. He frowns down at you, disappointed that you were blocking his movements.
"Let me, let me — can I, wanna ride you." His eyes roll back and his bitten, pouty, lips fall open in pleasure as he doesn’t say anything but starts to remove himself from you. When his cock pops out, bobbing between you he rubs it against your folds, cockhead bumping your clit. You grind against him, before moaning at the loss as he sits himself at the head of the bed, sliding down to be in a semi-reclining position.
"C’mon then doll, have at it." He gestures with both hands at his crotch. "Hippity hop little Bun." You grin, you don’t normally love the bunny jokes and comments — you’re not ashamed of your job and in fact, you’re normally quite proud of your career, but you do like to keep it separate from your private life; it’s still your work, and you’re more than just a playboy bunny. But coming from him? If Elvis wants to call you Bunny, he can call you a bunny — hell you’d hop about the room, eating a carrot, until he was satisfied if he asked.
You sink down onto him, your slick and his precum have lubricated your entrance enough by now to make it far easier than his first push into you, although your mouth still falls open at the feel of the stretch. You moan at the feel of the different angles, hitting different parts of your walls as you bottom out before rising back up, only to rock yourself back down again. You try to pay attention to his face, work out what feels the best for him but honestly you’re too distracted trying to get the angle right for yourself. He seems content, though, to let you do the work, offering you a near-constant stream of praise;
"Uh-huh that’s it, good girl, good fucking girl.” You circle your hips in response, grinding down and he’s moaning at you, telling you that you’re "treating’ me so nice, oh god, oh yes." You bounce on him until your thighs are shaking and you’re so close, but you just need a little more something. You’re about to say so, and you’re reaching down one of your hands that had been on his shoulders to touch yourself when he says,
"It alright bunny if Daddy takes over again now?" You feel yourself clench, his slightly condescending tone for some reason heightening your arousal even further, and you nod rapidly. He lifts you off of him, his forearms flexing, and manhandles you into turning around - pushing you down onto all fours. Your arms are a little shaky and you lean down onto your elbows to compensate.
"Arch your back baby, that’s it." You comply with his request, feeling a little like a whore and how strange it was to feel, as fucked open as you were, the air running past your pussy. He grips your hips and lines up again, one hand staying around your hipbone while the other strayed around to hold you close to him, palm splayed across your lower stomach as he pushes into you again.
He slides in, the stretch lessening each time — you can still feel him, of course, but it’s less of a burning sensation and more of a gentle pull now. He’s constantly talking — praising you, telling you you’re "so goddamn fucking pretty" that "you were born to take this," and that you were "such a good girl." You’re not used to the noises he pulls from you, and you probably should be more concerned about how thin the walls are - he reminds you a few times that you "gotta be quieter baby, gotta quiet down, be a quiet little Bunny for me", but when his balls are slapping against you, his tummy knocking into you, and his cock is stretching your hole you lose the ability to stay quiet.
A stream of swears and words of approval coming from your own mouth, "C’mon, please Daddy, please, that’s it, that’s it, give it to me Daddy."
He reaches around, stroking you and rolling his fingers over the little silky soft patch between his cock and your clit, feeling around where you’re joined. It’s filthy - and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, and when he reaches down with a hand - rubbing his fingers over you just so you’re reminded that you’re not the second person he’s ever fucked. He seems to know all the right moves to get you where he wants you, your head turned against the bed, gasping. You’re knocked momentarily silent when he pulls out, rubbing his cock up and down your folds, jabbing it against your clit before he presses a hand agaisnt your back, forcing your ass up higher and presses back inside you. This time he’s aiming, going deeper than his shallower thrusts before, and he knows he’s aimed true when you wail as he hits the bumpy little spot inside you. He breathes a laugh like your reaction is amusing to him — perhaps because of the sheer shock in your tone and he continues at the same pace. Hitting that same spot and focusing his fingers once again on your clit.
He circles his middle finger and thumb around, moving closer and closer before eventually, finally, brushing directly over it. It’s enough to make you cry out, thrashing around a little, legs jerking, as you come — your hole clenching around him causing him to groan in time with you. Your body goes slack against him, as he continues to pummel into you, although he does slow down, letting you ride the waves of your orgasm back down. He shifts slightly, pulling you up, and holding you by his grip on your waist and pussy as he kisses the sweat on your collarbone. Before abruptly shoving you back down onto the bed. Your face rubs against the fur as your arms give way, and you grab fistfuls to hold onto as he grips your hips, so tight you’re bound to bruise, and starts to pound away at you. You’re oversensitive and his rapid pace is a little uncomfortable, but as he starts to swear, and you can feel him drawing near he reaches down with his left hand, and nudges your folds open again. He rubs your clit at a pace that would normally have made you shove the guy off of you, so little attention given elsewhere, but that matches his own hips perfectly and is apparently just the right amount of abrasion to send you careening to the edge again. You convulse on his cock at almost the exact same moment you can feel him rapidly pulling out, to shoot his own cum across your ass and back.
"Now you got your own little white tail Bunny." He doesn’t let you rest. As soon as he’s stopped spurting he’s pushing you over, rolling you onto your back and diving between your legs. He tongues your sloppy, open, hole and he licks his way up and down your folds, before tongue-fucking into you. His fingers coming up to replace his tongue, scissoring into you, so that he can lick up to your clit, sucking on that little nub and sending your oversensitive self straight through to a third orgasm. You scream, unable to remain quiet any longer, clutching at his hair and holding him tight to you as you writhe against his mouth. He licks you out like a man possessed, like he’s been told it’s essential for the good of humanity, and you’ve never had someone do this to you before; you had no idea this was how this felt, but to have someone so dedicated to the task was a feeling almost as heady as the orgasm itself.
He flops back, resting his head back onto your inner thigh, and you pat gently at his head, still breathless and unable to speak as you blink away black spots in your vision. He’s breathing heavily and you can feel his sweaty forehead on your fingertips. You can’t believe it’s his soft, sweaty hair in your hands. God, you wished this plane would never land. He sits up, and looks down at you, patting at your pussy lightly, as you would a pet, affectionately. You look over at your clothes, wondering if you’ll even be able to contain your puffy folds in the tiny gusset of the corset teddy when he distracts you by leaning down and pressing a kiss against your forehead.
"If it’s alright with you, darling, I think I might request you on my crew every time I fly."
#elvis fic#elvis fanfic#elvis smut#elvis x reader#elvis x you#elvis presley smut#elvis presley x reader#elvis presley x you#elvis presley fanfiction
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basic info
♡ . my name's yuri but you can also call me himmel or law. i really like all three of these names so you can use them interchangeably (if you'd prefer to use one over the other that's fine too) (yuri is what i personally prefer)
♡ . i was born and raised a 👩❤️💋👩GIRL👩❤️💋👩 and my pronouns are mainly she/her but i don't mind they .
♡ . i am the lesbian of all time ever. female same sex attraction began with me. i'm also on the ace spectrum and heavily demi + idemromantic
♡ . i'm west african and i really like my hair
♡ . if friedrich nietzsche and franz kafka and fyodor dostoyevsky had a child it would be me
interests & content
♡ . i am a huge fan of jojo's bizarre adventure,, madoka magica,, tbhk,, shadows house,, castlevania & so on
♡ . i play games a lot and my favorite game series of all time ever is the tales of series (i've only played two installments). i have a sideblog (@talesfairy111) dedicated to posting about tales of arise & berseria so you should totally follow me on there if you're into either of the games 🙈
♡ . i also play genshin. my NA UID is 621347121 and my EU is 717069979
♡ . i LOVE classical music i think it is so amazing to listen to and just such an experience. i don't have a fave composer right now as i mainly just listen to whatever sticks out to me
♡ . i like girls a lot and if you're a girl i think you should follow me and we can be mutuals
♡ . i also really like hearts (shocker) and pretty things // making things pretty
♡ . myself . i think it would've been really funny to leave this at one word but i need it to be known i am very deeply obsessed with myself and you will see proof of that very often
♡ . my less prominent interests are philosophy,, psychology,, astrology & astronomy. i'd like to learn more about these topics one day
♡ . i'm also a big fan of the obscure // unknown and anything ethereal. sometimes i like to pretend i exist only in nameless concept
dni
♡ . basic dni criteria
♡ . i don't have a lot to say here actually. if you're a weirdo i will just laugh in your face and move on
♡ . if you're a man i'm not exactly going to chase you away but there really isn't anything here for you so
♡ . i mostly have nothing against religion but if you're a super dedicated follower of an organized religion or actively post about it there isn't anything here for you either
♡ . there isn't a super strict age limit so feel free to interact regardless of how old you are. i'm a lot more willing to be mutuals and possibly friends if you're 17 to 20 though
♡ . previously @hearts444wren & @m00nlitzen1th
ending note
♡ . i might include my socials once i have something other than pinterest (yuriofthevalley). my tiktok is a mess so i will probably make a new one once i feel interest in that app again
♡ . it was really nice talking about myself. i should've written this sooner
#intro post#blog intro#reblog heavy#jojo's bizarre adventure#classical music#madoka magica#castlevania#tbhk#toilet bound hanako kun#shadows house#tales of#tales of series#tales#tales of arise#tales of berseria#2005#this is what makes us girls#girlblogging#this is a girlblog#just girly things#just girly thoughts#lesbian#wlw#sapphic#mutuals
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all and half pt. i
in which your fate intended is the one person you can achieve true pleasure from
pairing: modern au! alhaitham x fem! reader, minor kaveh
wc: 10k+ (i wrote over 70k+ words for genshin alone last year, that's crazy talk)
rating: mature 18+
a/n: so we have two people to thank for this. 1. @mystic-sky rescued my sanity with this fic. i always worry about characterization and plot sense. she's actually the culprit who got me into genshin so really it all started with her. and she made me tear up a bit so here we are. 2. you guessed it, @mediocrityexpert who never failed to mention this man at all opportunities with pictures included until i became the simp you see now. this fic is meant to be her wish banner charm! hope this story brings as much joy as his homecoming
you had a plan.
a simple and easy one-step outline that was meant to be fool-proof for a lifetime.
avoid your fate intended and you wouldn’t have any problems
the idea of connecting with another living being on a level of complexity assisted by the archons would be thought to be a spiritual venture. except the very gods who wrote the lining principals found more value in physical compatibility rather than soul binding merit.
it was proclaimed, since what is thought to be the beginning of teyvet, that an individual's soul would be tied to another through the carnal utopia found at the peak of an orgasm. scholars liked to believe that it was a forethought with intention to cultivate the proliferation of humanity; but you like some just inhaled a little too much meditation incense.
if you never reached true nirvana then there was nothing for you to compare it to. thus, you could go about enjoying the frivolousness of life and it's untethered freedom.
there was something to say about 'true love' when your soulmate could only be found at the peak of an orgasm. they say for those who have had sex in the past that nothing is commensurable beyond that. you don’t even have to love the person. the sex is just that good.
apparently it’s the worst for virgins—never knowing what came before and rarely having the courage to experience anything less.
the idea of soulmates was a broken concept of love. ruining stable relationships for the desire of an infallible sexual experience. to think fates were willing to reduce passion down to its most carnal physical form and bind people to it.
it was the forbidden fruit for some.
or what was left after it fell from the hands of celestia.
you weren’t in a relationship; had nothing to tie you down. but you refused to have your body hijacked by one person who could only rock your world because of erotic devine intervention.
it didn’t make you easy by any terms, just determined to always have a taste for what else the world had to offer.
there was good sex out there.
mind blowing, leg numbing sex.
and not everyone needed the most expensive cake in the shop to achieve satisfaction.
and that had been the testament of your life thus far, until today.
you were there, edging over the line you’d come to know like a second home, when it all just stopped.
the sheets shifted as the figure hovering above used his hold against your headboard to halt the progression of his hips.
“sorry, i just can’t.”
and the dessert began to crumble.
his face pinched in a way that was far from sexy, “it’s not you.”
of all the times.
“i just thought it was all myth and legend you know. it wasn’t possible for one person to hold the key to your sexual awakening, right?”
and now he was pulling out. no, no, no. you head hit the stale fluff of your pillow with a thump.
“or maybe it’s just you-.
you found flimsy satisfaction thump in the sound that came from knocking the second pillow into the blonde head of hair.
“okay, okay. not you. it was great before. but now it’s just—“
archons.
groaning into the mattress, you accepted that the mood was beyond repairable, left to simmer in the rustled sheets and sticky wetness connecting your thighs. honestly what was fate thinking ruining a perfectly good thing.
“you don’t even love them, kaveh.” you grumbled out crassly. maybe it was a little insensitive. but it was true.
he’d run into them on a whim, no more bound to you than you were him. it had only taken one night and and a short consideration to make a difference it seemed. kaveh had once he was a pessimist like you; willing to stick a middle finger to fate and find your own asylum without discovering the road paved out for you.
the two of you shared stories, marking your own sexual discoveries while exploring ones of your own. you could have married him.
maybe.
eventually, possibly, after accepting that you had unearthed all you could from your back- and other various positions.
were you selfish to deem it unfair ?
you’d taken a chance. you filtered through all the variables in an attempt to beat the odds. only to have it slapped in your face. and they even took away your orgasm with a last hoorah.
“it’s fine.”
it wasn’t.
well, you would move on. he was the best so far but there were plenty of fish in the sea it seemed as if he caught a bigger one, so to say. it wasn’t the least bit awkward as the two of you gathered your clothing, less of you as in the comfort of your own home you were comfortable in just a shirt and panties.
an old shirt of his in fact.
the last of your collection.
he has the nerve to actually look guilty at the door and you can’t bring yourself to weigh him down any further.
“hey, we were in a mission to find all the wonders of sex. be happy you get to clock out before your dick fell off.” the pat on the shoulder you give him feels lacking, but you had to stretch to get there so it wasn’t without effort.
his lips split into a small cautionary smile.
“hey, maybe yours is—“
no. nope. no evil spirits in your house.
all hospitality leaves you as you press and prod him through the door. just because he was content didn’t mean you were ready to accept the deal.
“don’t let your next orgasm send you into a coma. baby steps, kaveh.”
he laughs like you expect him too, waving you off with a wider grin as he departs, likely to slip into the bed of his dreams.
and now you were left with an absent orgasm and one less reliable partner.
great.
| ⚘⚘⚘ |
it’s funny how something so soul binding can’t even be properly taught in school. it's wholeness left for young people to discover on their own experience and limited research on the subject available to the general public. teachers spoke lightly on the topic of becoming one with another through body and soul.
the only interesting thing to come from joining the akademiya was dissertations being written as close to erotic novels.
you convinced yourself to take it easy-ier over the last few weeks since kaveh's unforeseen retreat. you were not that desperate for a good lay and fate would end up handing you want you didn’t desire if you weren’t careful. so instead of your usual nightclubs and after hour ventures, you found yourself wasting hours in lighter pubs.
maybe not completely losing time. a decent drink and sound music was as good a stress reliever as any.
relaxing into the bar seat, you manage to keep from losing your balance. the lack of back support seemed like a latent encouragement of chances of falling to the floor, but you were only two glasses in at the moment. as your fingers traced the edge of the glass in languid circles, you wonder if you should just call it a night.
it had been quite awhile since you’d let yourself wander into bars. back in your early undergrad days, it had been in the accompaniment of friends to alleviate any stress built up over the semester. it was safe to say you’d matured a little since then; or at least discover an alternative that was just as satisfying.
but then kaveh had to go and ruin that.
it was as equally frustrating to admit you were both dissatisfied with the abrupt departure as you were pleased it ended before it festered into something too entangled for you both to escape. though 'finding your soulmate ‘ route was still well outside your expectations.
nearly a year ago, your introduction to kaveh had been fortuitous. he was a graduate, senior to your status, but a frequent of the akademiya due to renovation projects. he had been a pretty face, an easy distraction when his latest construction was near the vahumana school grounds.
all it took was a pair of wandering eyes and a few smiles to strike up a conversation. after a cursory drink here and there and a night out of fun, the kindling chemistry began.
it had never been an intention for either party to make it more than that. one shot too many had kaveh confessing about his mountains of debt that put him in direct servitude to the akademiya.
and you had no desire to date either, at least not while the sages were still prickling your nerves about research. but you also were willing to admit that you were getting a little too old to be bar hopping for a night out.
kaveh fit comfortably in the midst of both criteria.
he was a reliable lay and it helped that lately it took effort to run into one another. he was always focused on a new project and you spent more time in the library than your own apartment. which was ironic, because the majority of your ‘meetings’ occurred at your place rather than his.
something about a belligerent roommate.
now he was out gallivanting in the desert in the pursuit of creative inspiration; an interesting metaphor when he was towing his newest obsession along for the ride.
but apparently that was a thing of the past as you found yourself in an establishment that was better referred to as a tavern than a bar, or at least one less frequented by akademiya students. the campus bars were always full and bursting with a cocktail of students and occasional faculty members. it was a dangerous mix of egos and alcohol.
it was why you found it worth it to venture to port ortmos on occasion to the habour tavern. the lack of boisterous music was nice, but the atmosphere was empty of intrigue. not to mention the place hardly offered a promising selection. not a favorable gift of wine, and top shelf liquor was hardly in their vocabulary, let alone supply list. you decided eventually not to waste time trying to explain the ingredient of a zaytum sunrise.
a sigh tickled you lips and your shoulders sagged an inch lower. really there were more pressing issues than laminating over bed partners. you were rapidly approaching the end of your scholarship, making you one step closer to your dissertation. which was still a prospective theory with no hardened evidence worth presenting.
it took something akin to guts to challenge the age old belief of soulmates. in sumeru, it was the equivalent of a religion and you stood as the outsider throwing rocks at the stained glass chapel.
what you believed wasn't meant to be interpurted as hate, but clashing ideology tended to paint one side as the villain in order to raise the value of the rest.
you didn’t want to topple the pedagogy, but be given the opportunity to confront it fairly. but with a theory so widely supported in droves, it was no surprise that no one took it seriously. the akademiya hadn’t even blinked when you had proposed it, not threatened in the slightest.
nor had you wanted them to be. all you wanted was to be heard and given the chance to provide a new perspective.
your mentor had been rather agreable about the matter, offering encouragement and diffusing tension in equal bouts. but they also had their concerns, more so for your future than the present.
though not insistent on deterring you, they often hinted at your growing fascination in conservation and rejuvenation of old practices to save the future. the histories of the past often held secrets for the future, they liked to say. vahumana was as proud as any house, determined to make their mark on the world and the research that gave it life.
but you liked to argue that the past also had plenty of mistakes as well, a shaky ground to dispute your soulmate theory on but one worth grasping all the same.
“maybe i should just summerise my conservation efforts,” you grumbled audibly, reluctantly tipping the ice-melted drink down the back of your throat. it was the easy way out. the more practical route with postgraduate application as well.
discussing soulmates with anyone felt too much like a religious sermon. the emotional process was part of the passion needed to drive the evidence behind the dissertation. half of the presentation was to comfort the audience of your opinion and you had plenty to say on the matter.
cutting your gaze back over your shoulder, you gradually took in the atmosphere of the tavern. it was small, likely a family owned heirloom passed down generations, a homey style that you’d seen quite a few bars back in the city try to replicate. frankly, it was dusty, cracked and you missed the appeal but it seemed popular with the quieter population. perhaps not as full tonight, but most tables were occupied by one or two patrons. sensibility correcting your wandering gaze, you reluctantly trained your eyes back forward. no need to garner anyones attention, there was hardly anyone here for that kind of late night ventures. mature men were a stark difference from akademiya students. you shudder off the imaginary thought of a stranger’s touch.
eventually you set your glass down for the last time, signalling the bartender without a word as he rounded back to check on you. in their approach you considered balancing one more round on your psyche. it’d been only been your second glass, watered down at that. you’d linger longer if need be to sober up. but archons, did you just want a glass of wine.
you parted your lips to initiate the order, the bartender not far away to request, but then his gaze was snapping beyond you. a slow tilt of familiarity formed his lips, followed by a polite wave. mannerisms encouraged you not to turn your head, but curiosity was a painful pinch. it was almost too difficult to resist. you were grateful when the bartender moved for you, not even perturbed when he bypassed you for a few seats down.
the quiet bustle was still too heavy for the distant conversation to carry. idly you twist at the mini straw floating along the melting ice as you way.
it took a few more moments for the bartender to return to you, an apology muted at his lips but you shrugged it off, sliding the glass closer. “just one more. no ice.” he gave his affirmation, the soft smile still lingering. you weren’t piqued by his brightened service. he’d been nothing but amicable to you, but it was something to take notice of.
the moment his back turned, the burning itch came back. just a peek. everyone got first looks, it wouldn't put you on the spot. you was sure it was nothing you hadn’t seen before but now you had to be certain of it, the tethers of inquisitiveness pulling at your gaze.
okay, well you definitely hadn’t seen that.
he was certainly something to observe. the first thing that caught your attention was his musculature, mainly the girth of his arms that were propped against the bar as unaware of the potential interest they could draw. not to say it was the first time you had been impressed, but he was filled out in a way that tore a page out of a different volume. you had grown use to the leaner builds at the akademiya.
but it wasn’t just his build, his presence alone took up so much space it was already hard enough to miss him without that silver threaded hair. he held an air of authority that felt strangely familiar yet foreign in the port.
the click of glass against the counter brought heat to your cheeks as you were caught, your head whipping back to attention. “thank you,” but he was already gone, moving on to the next attendant.
you filtered through a quiet breath, pretending to be engaged by your phone with spotty service. at this point you were nearing an issue you weren’t ready to admit to at such an early stage. while you were comfortable in saying you could go quite a while without kaveh, the eccentric architecture; kavrh jr’s absence was starting to have some drawbacks.
to think the bastard was possibly warming someone else’s bed while you refrained from tempting your own. what you refused to believe was that it was the best time of his life. you brought that man closet to the archons than anyone could.
yet here you were siting alone in a tavern nearly undressing a stranger after hardly a few weeks of no intimacy. what were you thinking even considering the idea? the bartender floated neatly around him but aside from that he hardly gave the impression of being approachable.
archons ... and weren’t you just imagining how uncomfortable it would be to be approached by someone from this bar. but technically weren’t you one encroaching now? had this been just another city establishment, for one you’d have some proper wine. but at the very least you’d usually just talk. if the receiving end didn’t like it, then oh well, you weren’t circling them like they were the sun.
so he wouldn’t be any different.
besides, if you didn't say anything now you’d be running scenarios of this moment until you really did go insane. you dreaded the thought already.
you were slightly attracted to him- okay, pretty attracted. and you were still a young adult, it was the season of flings and one offs. surviving your final year at the akademiya thrived a little excitement. cutting your eyes sideways, you recalculated your chances. maybe he-
“if you have something to say, say it. your flittering is just as distracting.”
if warmth described you before, flames were dancing beneath your skin now. the man wasn’t discreet in the slightest, not caring who listen to the exchange. or maybe he was speaking to someone else- oh no, he was looking at you and he was not very intrigued. for a pause you were caught by a churring sea of turquoise.
you stumbled over deliberation shortly before a new emotion countered the transition. weren’t you just accepting cutting losses? if he was lacking interest then what was the point.
against your internal will, your lips pulled into a scowl at the potent irritated disinterest in his voice. “yes, because i’m sure it’s me that’s distracting”
well, that was not exactly how you intended to start this whole scenerio. playing hard to get was already a slippery slope and your face of indifference was faltering. you could see it mirroring back from the look of reflection on his face. or maybe that was just him contemplating the consequences of just leaving. or maybe he was truly in with the owner enough to kick you out.
for another moment it looked like he might just, and then something shifted. he reached for his glass again, the amber colour much like your own but in a higher volume. the amount of his intake challenged yours as well, or so you would have noticed if you hadn’t been so entranced by the movement of his adam’s apple.
“-students.”
what?
you caught the tail end of fostering chagrin but you knew you were rapidly eating up his reserves for patience. really, he could have just been here to relax, not get harassed by some akademiya scholar.
the man stared at you for a second longer, then scoffed. “apparently the standards have dropped. what school are you from?”
“i…” you trail off, feeling a little nonplussed by the implied merit. “vahumana.”
he hums, a sound audibly dry with scrutiny. “the study of history and the past of our predecessors. fitting to dig into the business of others as you cant seem to mind your own.”
you narrowed your eyes at him,” and you must have been haravatat.”
he huffed in amusement and reached for his glass, the rim tips against the tilt of his lips. he didn't diffuse your assumption. “why's that?”
“because only you would be so far up our asses to know what business we were sticking into.”
there was a smile, but the tone was serious. “cute. what year?”
“final.”
“good. any longer and you might have become unbearable.”
you shot him a look of rebuke,”those same standards would imply that you got kicked out.”
“aw, its adorable that you think we’re held at the same degree,” he said. “i’m afraid i simply out grew their expectations.”
you scoffed. he was so stupidly cocky. “uh huh.” you prepared to turn away when he chirped back, amusement bleeding into the heart of his motive.
“done biting already? didn’t think you would bend to authority so quickly. but i suppose akademiya students know when to fall in line.”
you shot him a chiding look. he came across as tall but the way his torso seemed to stretch even seated. it would have been impressive enough without the additional bulk that added an unfair amount of definition to his clothing—attire that had speckles of familiarity in both its design and colour scheme.
“you work for the akedmiya.”
he watches you silently. allowing you to work through the calculations. he obviously wasn't a teacher, you would have at the very least heard of him by now especially since he was confirmed haravatat. he had maybe a year or two on you, just enough to be an established graduate.
looking back now, he did look a bit distinguished. the fine details of his clothing hinted equally at quality and prestige. though the material was tighter to form than usual robes, but you would admit it had it's own unique sense of flair. still it didn't give the full answer you were looking for.
“that’s all you can differ? disappointing.”
“if i’m so unsatisfying, why bother holding a conversation?”
he gives you a look over and you realise you weren't the only one noticing a few things. he was just more subtle.
“with your mouth closed, you’re mildly appealing.”
you could barely resist the roll of your eyes. “funny, most men would say they might prefer it wide open.”
“you must have a lot of soulmates with that kind of confidence.”
this time the effort was for naught as you turn away.
“oh, sore topic?”
his voice carried despite the action, a touch more smug.
“well i’m assuming your odds of not finding your true partner are promising enough.”
surprised into reacting, you twist your body in his direction. it was an odd choice of words given the subject. it almost felt as though he were implying something.
“i have your interest then?”
the intrigued man angled his body towards you leaving you no room to misinterpret his attention. “we both agree that there is physical attraction. and though i doubt i need more points, the likelihood of us discovering the epitome of pleasure is a low possibility.” the offer is so blunt as he roves you over with calculating appreciation, but those eyes… that blue-green fire-
don’t find that arousing. he’s being a dick.
feeling a bit unsettled by your desire, you averted your eyes briefly before raising them back to his handsome face. you had never once considered yourself weak, the spirit alone strong enough to challenge the akademiya worth its weight in mora.
pure stubbornness was your greatest defence against a lot of things.
but temptation was a trial fought time and time again.
he read your resolve like an open book and finished his drink in an impressive swallow before rising to his feet. he waved down the bartender with a quick hand and then put down a few notes of mora with the other. he walked with intent, hardly harbouring an inch of reprieve in any direction. whatever he was, this was his hunting grounds and he set his sights on you.
your mouth was dry, glass still untouched as you visibly shuddered under his shadow, “i’m not some easy student-”
archon be willed, you denied yourself the privilege of running your sight down the length of his arm as it benched securely between you body and the bar. there was a smart smirk on his face that you hadn’t witnessed yet, a challenge that you’d be dragged through whether you wanted to or not. “no, you’re just spun too tight and could benefit from new lesson.”
you parted your lips to rebuttal but he silenced you with a hum. “i’m not going to play the role of some authoritative figure you desperately need. you can either come along or play games with someone else.”
a streak of heat crackled along your nerves at the rawness of his words. to be honest, he looked absolutely done with your presence but there was a primal edge of something you couldn’t place rooting him there. whatever drug him down to this bar was still devouring away at him, tightening his defences to the peak of stress.
yeah, you bet he could use a stress reliever alight.
your eyes slipped close as a low groan escaped you.
| ⚘⚘⚘ |
it had taken you an embarrassingly small amount of seconds to fork over common sense as you hastily scrambled to procure payment, only to have your attempts overrun by another careless slip of a few bills to cover much more than you had spent that night. it was no wonder he was so popular here.
he didn’t just walk like he owned the place, it certainly seemed like it as he guided you out of the door with a firm hand at the small of your back. not one pair of eyes crossed your paths and from the corner of your own you witnessed the bartender already moving to clear your spot.
a minute later, you were outside in the slight chill of the nighttime air. but where you were expecting the man to hail a car, instead urged you along the cobble-stone path.
“you live in port ortmos?”
“is that a problem?”
“i just …”
he lifted his chin slightly, “expected me to live in sumeru city? no, i stay there enough for work.”
you hum thoughtfully at the new information,“so that’s why the bartender was so familiar.”
“or maybe he just likes me.”
“or maybe he just likes your money.”
“why are you so sure that i have money?”
it takes effort not to mention the cash he’d tossed so carelessly onto the table top. there could have been one too many stuck to gether, but he had not even paused to check. instead you gesture marginally to the fine clothing stretching over the girth of his arm.
“well at least i know you're only after my body.”
“it's certainly not your personality,” you respond flatly.
“you would prefer the bigger of the two.”
you click your tongue and look away, determined not to snort at the smooth jest.
the short trip ends when he taps his key fob against the entrance of a modestly built apartment complex overlooking the port.
“anyone you need to inform of your nightly ventures?" he breaks the silence as he hits the bottom for the elevator to jerk into motion.
it occurs to you with no great pleasure that he was indeed right. you had followed the man with only the speculation that he was part of the akademiya in some capacity. at least you had confidence that he hadn't drug you to some seedy part of town and as long as the bartender didn't sell you out, there would be an evidence trail.
still you shot off a quick text to a friend, letting them know of your location in the port.
“good girl.”
you scowled to which he returned the gesture with a broad smile.
fortunately, the elevator door opened before anything more could spark. he stepped out first, leading you four doors down before unlocking it and flickering on the first light available. he waved you in with a nod of the head.
if he was a secret murderer, he was one with good tastes. from the entrance, the home opened up into a modern looking living room with panel windows hanging high above the quiet streets. to the right, an impressive kitchen held more appliances than you even knew what to do with. you assumed the final hallways led down towards the bedroom and other accessory rooms. overall, it was quality living. something to dream of after finally graduating from the akademiya. yet it still did not offer anything more of his position.
overly curious, you ask, “what is it you do again?”
he smiles, all mischief, “i’m just a feeble scholar.”
the man expects your scoff, lip curling higher as he vaguely gestures to the darkened kitchen,“i’d offer you a drink, but then i’d have to cut the night short. i don't sleep with drunks.”
you shrugged off your jacket, folding it over before lying it on the couch. “i’m not a lightweight.”
he tucked his free hand into his pocket, “but you’re in my home. house rules for guests i’m afraid.”
his shoes echo off the floors as he walked towards you, teasing closeness until you stepped back in turn. a second later, you were backed against the wall connecting the kitchen to the hall.
you swallowed hard to control the nerves flaring under your skin. it was infectious with the way his eyes travelled slowly from your eyes to your lips. he was shameless, continuing down past your collor bone to the subtle swell of your breast until the weight of his gaze dampened your breaths.
eagerly, you arched your spine,” how else do you treat your guests?”
his eyes retuned to your face,” i suppose you’ve earned that much.” he shuffled closer and trailed his thumb along your jawline, then leaned in and kissed you. his other hand came up to cradle the other side of your face as his lips tugged gently at yours before coaxing them apart.
then his tongue slips into your mouth and you whimper. its an embarrassing sound that pulls a reaction from him as he breaks the kiss.
he’d never been close enough before to take in the spicy smell of his person, an additional spritz of expense. something about it burned your nose from this proximity, like he was activating too many of your other senses to not notice. his hands were hot and heavy as they groped at your body, following the curve of your hips and testing the weight of your breast.
his tongue lapped at your neck, each action only a span of minutes already accumulating a pool at your core.
you just wanted to kiss him again but he seemed to conveniently remain out of reach. to test it, you craned your neck again only to have him counter by nipping at your ear.
“did you come to that place just to get laid, sweetness?”
you were beginning to edge away from the dry tone of his voice but he had yet to be proven innocent from the other assumptions. blood finally returned to your hands, rendering you with the ability to move as you grappled at his own body, lavishing in the not so hidden display of muscle. “did it look like it?,” you eventually responded back.
that earned you another nip, obviously not the answer he was looking for. it wasn’t a gentle one either. the sharp bite of it was still echoing through your nerves and ripping a yelp of arousal from your lips.
“i just wanted a drink.”
he bit you again.
you quickly wailed out the truth of the matter, a short sentence about your growing frustration before waiting for another reprimand but the firm pressure of lips responded instead and you sagged into the warmth of it. you dared to ask the same of him but you doubt you had enough strength behind your teeth to get him to comply.
his pace was ruthlessly, hands sliding and discarding clothing, certainly not interested in prolonging the moment.
“you’re going to miss that attitude when i’m done with you.”
the weight of his words should not have produced the reaction that it did. but god did it make you so wet. this man would probably fuck anything. and everything would let him fuck them.
you’re grappling on to his bicep, meaty muscle probably tenderised from long hours at a pricey gym. he loops one of your legs around his waist, leaving the other standing to allow more room for himself. his fingers are dry when they first touch you, though not for long as they absorb the slickness your body throws at him wantonly. a thumb tweaks your numb and your breath hitches into a pant as he curls two thick fingers into you without warning.
his face remains refined but his touch is explorative, teasing the spongy walls as he stretches them to their limitations. “unexpected debut but not a bad way to end the night.”
you wished his words would have less of an effect on you, the dichotomy of them and his touch making you out to be a blushing virgin.
and he keeps talking.
“akademiya girl, huh? bet you think you’re so smart. “
you keen lowly as he introduces a third fingering, forgoing rudimentary scissoring to just plunge them into your depths. you arch against his hold bucking with no ground to stand on. his hitches your leg higher as a reminder, threatening your barely there balance.
“look at you, all spread out for me. i said what five words to you? did they not teach you manners? a lot has changed.” he presses with the intent of stretching limitations, and you’re grateful for the debauched ministrations. science and biology taught you more than enough about anatomical proportionality.
“no resistance. you’d let me fuck you for less wouldn’t you? ” but with the way words just kept off his tongue without preamble, you were nearing certainty that he’d ride the glide of your channel without much resistance.
he works a hand up the loose material of your shirt, sending your bra into disarray as he tweaks a nipple sharply. the pain is acute, shuddering through your body like a ripple. your groan rolls into a soft hiss as he does it again, enunciating the action with words.
“i asked you a question.”
the pressure returns and your body squirms. it's enough to plunk the strings of obediency as your mouth is quick to answer.
“yes!”
his fingers rip from you, cutting the strings of your impending release and you hear the tell tale signs of a belt jingle. the material of his pants shifts, but unlike you they never leave his hips.
“fuck.” he frees himself, af the musk of him permeates the air. it’s almost intoxicating, urging you too look but you fight the urge. “i knew it. you came to that tavern looking for someone to bit that edge off.”
you don’t have to, because he’s pressing into you thick and hard and your walls flutter around him. with efficiency, he hitched your last standing leg up as well, leaving you suspended at his mercy. “good thing i came in, i bet you were getting unbearable to your little friends.”
the wall reverberates against the knocking of your body, the offbeat staccato telling any nosey neighbours all they need to know. that's if they weren’t already use to the frequency of overnight guests.
“just needed a few pumps to set you right. “
you tilt your head back and his immediate reaction is to latch back onto your neck, no doubt intending to bruise you both physically and mentally. he’s not immune to his own sounds, grunting through explications with each thrust. archons, it’s so hot, feeling the weight of him dragging over the wet hole, soon to be coined as a delicious ache before the night’s end.
it’s uncertain if he drew blood, the sticky wetness of your throat a toss up between the possibility and perspiration.
his name. you need to know his name. desperate to whine it, cry for it, tattoo it onto your tongue. you ask as much of it without realising.
-haitham.
you’re supposed to learn of it so soon but don’t disappoint the expectation following the admission.
“my name is alhaitham.” his name rolls off fluidly and you bite down to savour it before it’s gone.
your head rolls back against the wall, mouth parted for air as your eyes squeeze shut. your breast rise and fall with each hurried breath as alhaitham pins his focus on the thrum and the heat of your clit.
he’s back at your throat, nosing against the constrictions as your voice strains high and desperate.it was dominating, overwhelming, and even though you could accept that you enjoyed it, you still couldn’t understand why. domineering had it’s attractive qualities, sure, but it was arguably a delicate matter. one that took a fine tuned perspective to account for any aversions and hone in on the pointes of gratification.
and he knew.
“you looked so pretty at the bar. i’m almost grateful you were so nosy. now you look even more gorgeous. pinned against my wall like a painting.”
a shower of sparks rain down over you and cracks open the door to the flash of lights stippling the dark behind your eyes. you rock yourself forward until it becomes clear that you’re fucking yourself on his fingers until theirs both slick and resplendent with your essence.
it should be the end, the cut off of your journey but the trip feels like it's leagues long until the horizon breaks and you’re no longer anchored to the terrestrial spear but floating within the realm of celestia.
he removes his fingers slowly, excruciatingly so, and smears your release over your clit and skin. your nerves feel as delicate as your bones feel weightless.
you're fortunate that alhaitham is close enough to catch you as you all but collapse against the wall, feeling like someone—no your fate intended—removed all the bones in your body. cheek pressed against his chest, you inhale the scent of his skin while wondering if this was the exact feeling kaveh had. it was indescribable. like you were racing toward the end of days, on the verge of expiring by your own inability to call back the breath that alhaitham had stolen from your lungs. it's a dichotomy of wonder and fear as you come to terms with a terrifying realisation.
you want more.
alhaitham lets out a throaty hoarse sound when you bury your hands in his hair and tug at the thick base. he presses his lips harder against yours, determinedly set on devouring you with teeth and tongue if he can get away with it. in turn, you wrap your legs back around the already familiar notch at his hips and squeeze, drawing your front flush against his.
his erection remains hard and insistent. it’s enough to make you sigh happily against his mouth, arousal blooming above her navel at the promising orgasm it will provide.
“i want you,” you gasp between kisses, cupping his cheek with one hand while the other continues to pull at his hair.
alhaitham grunts again at the action and sneaks a hand down between you two to cup your wet mound. two fingers press up, spreading your spend and is immediately reward with another sweet hasp from your lips as he teases the sensitive nub.
archons, just the faintest touch of his fingers against you is enough to drag back the reminder of the shattering kaleidoscope until the only thing you can think of is him—alhaitham— with either his soul-binding fingers or his cock buried inside. you don't care if it's a repeat performance or something new, as long as you come.
the truth is so palpable between you but alhaitham has sense enough not to mention it. instead he dips as his arm slips under your knee to pull you into his arms. he walks you towards the darkened hallway where the door at the end opens into his bedroom.
alhaitham pulls at your clothes and you let him, sliding them down until you’re left with nothing and reaching for his. he follows you onto the bed, bracing himself over you. he lowered his head to kiss you, holding you still as he ravishes your mouth until you’re forced to break apart, breath haggard from the effort.
you blink blearily up at the broad shoulder hovering just by your nose as you resist the itch to squirm. the grip holding you down had lessened dramatically in the last few minutes, the weight of trust holding you still. a soft sigh tickles your lip as his forehead rolls against yours, light and nuzzling.
“you’ve finally lost some of that attitude. that is good. you’re doing so good,” his voice is less dry, holding warmth and reverence for compliance. your head tilts up to seek his lips again, craving the gentle touch and the taste of exhalation.the sharp edges of thoughts fade away, leaving only room to consume and receive. a reward comes in the tweak of thick fingers returning to your apex, twisted deep within you and curling for purchase. in return, you sigh into his mouth, pleased, as you rock into the affection.
“think you can return the favour? let me see what all the fuss is about?” his smile savours the flavour of saccharine, both appealing and intoxicating and you find yourself nodding in acceptance without cause. alhaitham knows he has you anyway- always had- you’d crawl for his mercy if just to have a a taste of the nirvana only he could give you.
he feels the motion of your nod, pressed so close,” i’d like to know what it’s like. feeling your open mouth, the sounds of your gasp as you choke on my cock. ”
his hand remains low, twisting within you as your own rides the length of his body. it’s a stretch, but you manage to brush against the underside of his cock, tracing the thick vein protruding against the surface. your heart thrums, seeking his praise even as his hand leaving you and his thighs shift upward until he hovers at your face.
the heat of him bobs from the movement, tapping your lip and smearing its tackiness. his hand cards through your hair, rumbling veneration as you lick it away then open your mouth to stretch around him.
alhaitham’s hand, girthy and wide, teases the nap of your neck, forming a brace without asking. the rhythm of your tongue is met with a heavy groan of approval, the volume increasing as you swallow around him. the coordination of suction is breathing is an erratic dichotomy but you managed- for him. your mouth continues to caress him as he grows, hips beginning to undulate in aid.
“you’re going to swallow it all, aren’t you, sweetness? for me?” he’s curled over you, blowing through harsh pants as he coaxes another inch down your throat. it still lacked the depth that he would have wanted, but you would still make it good for him.
tears bubble behind your eyes, though not from pain, from sacrifice as you nod once more. it’s still an impossibility to take him to the hilt, but with passion you come close. swallowing the bitter taste of him until the taste of it is tattooed on your tongue. it’s a musky bitterness, thick with salt.
his voice is but a whisper, rolling against your ears. “yes, sweetheart. make me proud.”
you splayed your hands against his thoughts, fingernails digging a little into the skin there but alhaitham could care less. in fact, you dared to say he enjoyed the pinch of pain. it most noticeably shattered his ability to prologe his release as his eyes closed and he allowed the orgasm to surge through him.
this close, it was impossible not the notice the intense ripple of sensations as his nerve endings sparked with a powerful wave that had his knees trembling above you. just when you feared he might topple, he leaned back, rolling to the side and combing a haggard hand through his hair.
then your eyes connected and the truth you’d damned up inside, burst forward, barrelling through your defences and overwhelming you.
this man. alhaitham was your soulmate. this stranger whom you’d let take you home, ravish you beyond your wildest dreams and given you an core shattering orgasm that you were still reeling from. alhaitham who had come to lean in closer than you realised, must have come to the same conclusion as his mouth sealed over yours.
the featherlight caress of your lips to his made your body yearn for something more than one-sided release, the promise of coming together as one—
a sudden feeling of panic gripped your gut as the final dreads of your euphoria dripped away. scrabbling for your bearings, you nudged at him until he had no choice but to pull away, leaving you more exposed than ever.
alhaitham’s face was flush with exertion, eyes to feverish but his face was unguarded with uncertainty.
“are you alright?”
no, you definitely were not and you wouldn't be until you got home. even then you likely wouldn't be okay. you never would be the same after tonight.
“i should go—i shouldn’t have—i just need to leave.”
your heart seized with the sudden ache as realisation weighed down on you. this was not how this was supposed to go. not at all. you pushed yourself off his bed and onto your feet, hastily scrabbling for your clothing.
alhaitham picked his movements carefully as he straightened up on the bed,” it’s fine if you need space. i know this is a lot but it’s late. you should stay the night.” he gestures out out the door,” my roommate is gone for the weekend, you should take his room.”
but you were hardly listening as you pulled your top over head and headed for the door while working your arms through the sleeves. despite his offer, you continued past the adjacent door until you neared the entrance.
alhaitham’s steps were heavy as you followed behind. his hand came to your back to steady you as you hoped from one shoe to the other until they fit snug.
“you are overwhelmed and it's too late. you're not thinking clearly. i don't want you out in the city like this.”
you turned on him before he could finish, “you don't know me. just because were—you—,” you guested widely between the both of you. “this doesn't change anything. “
reading the room, the man carefully held up his hands in surrender. it should have been a commercial sight for a man of his stature given his still nude state.
“okay, okay. just wait, please.”
it’s the agreeableness that gives you pause. its give him just enough time to round the counter of the kitchen and rummage through one of the doors. he spares the time to bring a pen to it. when he returns, its with a small card.
“i’m not asking for anything. but if you want to reach me, here. i wont seek you out. but you know where to find me.”
whether he was referring to the tavern or his home was vague. but the look in his gaze wasn’t. no matter how much he tried to hide it, it was there … the expectation.
you turned away and opened the door, clutched the cardstock in your hand as you hurried to the elevate and punched the downward key until it blinked and the doors opened. you threw yourself inside, not looking back not when the doors closed but until you were free of the building and ducking into the hailed car.
fucking kaveh, it should have never ended this way.
it had been quite a long time since you’d felt anything remotely shameful after a night in bed with someone new. with kaveh it had never been an issue as he’d wormed his way into a positon of comfort before he’d ever reached your bed.
the both of you had decided that you enjoyed the fragile lining between friendship and something more, confident that neither would seek out the unknown. he was focused on his growing list of projects to offset his student debt and you were still trying to make the most of your own expenses into your education.
it had been a simple arrangement that you had been forlorn to see it unravel. but you couldn't put stocks into blaming kaveh forever. he certainly had not led you to the bar housing your soul mate and had no ploy in getting you into their bed.
no the blame had been solely yours.
you had barely been able to look at your reflection in the mirror, finding it all the more damning to written the swollen redness of your lips and early signs of hickeys dotting your throat. there had been no point in examining the rest of your body as you slipped into the shower to wash away what you could. however the ache of his presence remained seeped into your bones even as you fell into your blankets.
there had been one too many unsuccessful attempts to silence your mind, your more reasonable half having a field day over-analyzing your choices.
eventually you'd given up on sleep altogether in favour of squinting against the glare of your phone. if you were going to be riddled by guilt, the best thing to do was to spin it into a web of evidence. for months, you had been trapped trying to craft a damning theory to challenge the damn-near will of the gods.
and in return they made you into your own attestation.
in your initial presentation, the sages had challenged your theory as one-sided, some even edging to accuse you of envy. at their age, it was difficult for you to speculate if one or any of them had found their soulmate. there was no rhyme or rhythm to discovering your fated partner.
some discovered them early, others had to wait until their last breath.
but in the city of sumeru, where the god’s will was paramount to divine expectation.
if anything the only thing worth of your envy was the free state of mondstat where the country had thrived under their archon’s guidance to seek out their own fate.
it was a plausible dream but sumeru was your home.
closing your eyes, you leaned back against the flatness of your pillow. but behind your eyelids, however, were the lingering traces of last night’s memories etched there. it began with those blue-green eyes, then the image panned out to reveal the entirety of alhaitham, broad and defined in ways built from a fantasy.
hissing out a sharp curse, your eyes snapped open to shatter the visage.
it was starting to feel like a never-ending joke. why could it not be as simple as falling in bed with an attractive man.
you’d barely typed out a sentence before you eventually gave up, signalling defeat with the snap of the device closing. rubbing your eyes, you kicked the device to the edge of the bed and sprawled back against the bed.
hopefully tomorrow would bring forth a more concise mindset.
| ⚘⚘⚘ |
you woke several hours later tangled under a sea of blankets and the lingering taste of zaytum peaches. the faint glow of sunlight coming through the window indicated that it was sometime in the afternoon. instinctively, you rolled over to reached for your phone, heart stuttering at the feeling of hard cardstock against your fingertips.
there had been no effort made to forget about what had transpired less than twelve hours ago, nor was it meant to be a rude awakening. those thoughts were better suited after a shower and something to eat.
for now you roll out of bed in pursuit of the bathroom, mint taste and burn of mouthwash would help restart your day on a better note. you considered a second shower as well. the heat and steam was always a nice balm on a clogged brain, always helping to clear your head and think.
the promise of peace lasted about as long foam forming from the slow drag of your toothbrush against your teeth. it didn't take very long at all for your mind to sink into reality; the fog dissipating somewhat as you realised with dread that this would not be something you could avoid without some confrontation.
alhaitham
the name did not come without an overhanging cloud of density. it was a weighted thing, something of a reminder but you could not figure out the source beyond the stranger you’d met at the tavern bar.
it was fairly customary name in sumeru though your tallied occurrences were low. perhaps a stray soul at the market in passing but nothing of significance. it had been an akademiya joke to place him in harvata without truly knowing, purely inspired by the natural flow of banter.
but there wasn’t an alhaitham currently part of the darshan that you knew of. to be frank, when the name alhaitham came to mind it was only accompanied by occasional whispers in the absence of a highly regarded graduate and now scr—
your brows rose with each fragment of proof as realisation dawns with nauseating clarity. the soothing shower quickly becomes a brisk wash as you will your mind to calm.
you were so stupid. so so stupid.
spitting carelessly into the sink , you stagger through your strewn clothes as you return back to your bedroom with renewed vigour. the card you had tried to forget was quickly snatched up.
alhaitham kaysani
grand scribe
he was that alhaitham. the name bringing forth sobering clarity that had evaded you while post-orgasm. you had only known him in name, never having the opportunity to meet him. he wasn’t just faculty, he was damn near a sage after his achievements and one of the youngest to get so close.
and he was your soulmate.
snarky
callous
rational
these were all phantom rumours stitched into the reality of the man you’d come to witness.
but he was also dominating
attentive
and responsible when baring you to the world and unravelling you at the seems. there could be little fault in you for not recognizing him at first given the circumstances. you had never met the man before yesterday.
now, in the safety of your own home, you can admit to yourself that deep down, twisting your perceptions, you'd be a little relieved to have found him. yes, you were scared— worried that fate might have skipped you in your doubt— but the fated milestone was reached. and he had wanted you, albeit sexually, the setting had made you desirable enough to bring you home. even after discovering the truth, he’d reached for more.
in the end, you liked it; the weightlessness of floating above yourself for a moment; the rush of endorphins that seeped into the still waters. just the memory of it all has you tingling all over, hairs rising in protest.
despite your misgivings, the reality of it was, what you’d left behind was unfinished business. there was no plausible way for you to just go about your lives without addressing what was discovered. you knew your stance on the matter, but it was equally as important to understand his so that there would be no confusion in the future.
you were both scholars, but he was more welcoming to the present evidence than you were. though given the abrupt shift in your reality, a bit of additional clarity felt like a needed kindness.
tossing the card back down, you returned to the bathroom with the first spark of determination kindling. if your thoughts were going to be set aflame, you knew who to invite to the bonfire.
| ⚘⚘⚘ |
“i thought you said you and kaveh were through?”
finding a friendship with dehya had been an unexpected but appreciative experience. sumeru city was built by and for the cultivation of scholars under the aged guidance of late archon of sumeru. the akedemiya prided itself on its accumulation of knowledge, though it had yet overcame its ostracism of the children of the desert.
it boiled down to conflicting views of the source of knowledge and whom it ultimately belonged too, but those like dehya hardly cared little of the dispute. it was old news kept relevant but elders who needed to let the new generation decide the future.
ultimately, she found interest in your defiance. shared stories among drinks and good company overwriting centuries of bad blood.
you drew the steaming cup warming your palm closer, finding solace in the simple smell of caffeine rather than the taste of it. dehya kept her inquiries limited when you had first requested her company at the portside coffee shop but now her curiosity was brimming as she scrutinized you from across the table.
“we are.”
“so this has something to do with the random quality of life text i got last night?”
the curl of her lips hinted that she already knew the answer, the slow grin widening further when you tossed her a less than impressed scowl.
“i found someone new.”
the sharp red of her freshly pained nails drummed patiently against the table top as her raised brow encouraged you to get on with it.
with a huff, you opted to just get it all out.
“i met a guy at a bar who ended up being my soulmate.”
the woman had the courtesy not to laugh outright in your face, but the quiet snicker that escaped through the side of her mouth couldn't hide her amusement.
“you know i was rooting for you. i thought if anyone could defy the odds it would be you.”
her support, while generous, was one-sided towards your benefit. dehya had her restraints when it came to the exaggerated nonsense spewed by the akademiya on the subject. but she couldn't deny it’s biological merits after discovering her other half in the form of her childhood friend and now girlfriend.
dunyarzad believed in a more muted rendition of the historic value of soul mates, a hopeless romantic that thrived on the magic of dreams. in a way you both humored the young woman, if only to be plagued with her infectious smile and outlook on life.
dehya smirked, leaning forward on her elbows. the flaky croissant you had purchased as a show of gratitude forgotten. “so you go out with a stranger and they rock your world … and now you’re in the same boat as the rest of us."
you stare at her blankly, “it’s not that simple.’’
“it is if you stick by the facts,” she answers smoothly. “so you had one good night, you’re not obligated to marry him. if anything, you're the one hung up over it. why not just leave it as that and move on?”
your body jolts with the instinct to protest, but the weighted gaze she holds over you keeps you rooted until the words seep in. you had hardly delved into the details of the night, but she was reading you like an open book.
society’s expectations weren't your reality. nor had alhaitham’s surmise given his perplexed but visible patience during your hasty escape. he had made the same discovery as you but didn’t hold you accountable for an explanation.
instead he gave you the option.
seek him out or leave it as it was.
knowing him would be an emotional burden but you had lived this long without encountering him and would eventually outlive the physical reminder.
dehya drew your attention back by the soft sound of her spoon clinking against the side of her mug.
“you’re my friend, but sometimes you scholars are all the same.”
setting the spoon aside, she leveled you with a look. “once you get a theory planted in your head, anyone outside of it is well out of reason. you all forget that the world is full of theories and opinions and there is so much more to explore if you would be more wiling to accept ones that aren't your own.”
her face softens as she reaches out to fold her palm over yours.
“you came to me for advice at least, so let me give it. everyone's soulmate situation is unique. your parents for example.” you flinch at the mention, years of memories solidifying the reason you sought out the akademiya.
dehya's fingers squeeze in reassurance as she continues. “at least hear him out. maybe their theory will compliment yours. and if not, well next time call me to a fight rather than a cup of coffee.”
the thinly veiled joke pulled a tight smile from your lips.
she was right though. as a scholar you had encouraged a new experience and were left to analyze the variables. the night had been an unexpected outcome but not a failure.
in the end, you liked it; the weightlessness of floating above yourself for a moment; the rush of endorphins that seeped into the still waters. just the memory of it all has you tingling all over, hairs rising in protest.
despite your misgivings, the reality of it was, what you’d left behind was unfinished business. there was no plausible way for you to just go about your lives without addressing what was discovered. you knew your stance on the matter, but it was equally as important to understand his so that there would be no confusion in the future.
you managed to finish your coffee before dehya eventually coaxed you out of the shop, muttering about a fresh text from dunyarzad as you parted ways at the entrance.
the warmth of her encouraging hug still lingered as you plucked the contact card from its perch on your nightstand.
flipping the card, you found a neat scrawl of additional numbers, the intention clear.
with that in mind, you reached for your phone and typed out a message.
‘i’d like to talk.’
your thumbs tap against the screen idly, hoping he was awake and wouldn’t keep you waiting. it was a safe assumption that the man was a morning person when the reply was sent a few minutes later.
‘fine. would you like me to come to you?.’
you thought about alhaitham coming to your flat.
grand scribe alhaitham who was hardly as inconspicuous in sumeru city.
soulmate alhaitham who had yet to have his way with you in your bed-
the last thing you needed to think about was either of you coming.
‘no, will you be home in the evening? i can be there.’
his reply was simple.
‘4pm.’
you stared at the text with a writhing feeling in your gut. it definitely needed to happen, a talk like this was better addressed soon than later. but maybe this was too soon. there was no taking the words back now but how hard would it be to just delete them? a simple swipe and tap and they’d be gone.
you’d avoided alhaitham this long. and if you stayed away from a certain tavern you could continue to do so. he didn’t seem like a man who would put effort into something that lacked fruition.
exhaling slowly, you tossed the phone away before you made another rash decision. confronting it now would be the smart thing to do. it was the best way to keep yourself from spiralling down a path of the unknown. just because you discovered your soulmate, nothing had changed.
granted he gave you the best orgasm you’d had so far in your life, it was just that. a night of carnage that had you waking up with nothing but regret. how could anyone chase something so recklessly because they felt that the archons put their stars too close together?
yes, tackling this now would let you set the record straight. you didn't want a marriage proposal but that didn't mean— no, you wouldn't speculate or conjure up anything until you got on the same page. alhaitham seemed like a rational person, he likely didn’t believe in soulmates either. a good night in bed got the best of everyone.
for a long moment, you stood in the noon shadow of your bedroom before eventually returning to the bathroom to finish your routine. as you brushed your teeth and washed your face, you tried hard not to look too close at your reflection again.
picking back up the phone, you craft and send a quick message to kaveh.
‘hope you haven’t fallen into a coma.’
and you hoped you aren't falling into a deeper mess.
continued in part ii
#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham fanfic#alhaitham imagine#genshin impact imagine#genshin impact x reader#al haitham x reader#al haitham imagine#al haitham fanfic#the wrong draft got uploaded early so sorry for the rough first post enjoy!
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If the gayness can be denied it can just as easily be called queerbaiting. Text (and subtext) is less impactful and meaningful than action, even in the right direction. I think if gay people say it's not good enough isn't that an indication that it isn't good enough or enough for them to feel represented?
No.
There’s been a concept in social media activism that the primary perceived value of queer content in media is how loudly it demonstrates inclusion of a particular identity, and a lot of popular media gets judged solely on this aspect, like it’s checking off a tickbox for binary approval.
A kiss has been chosen by many of these circles to be the most concrete binary proof you can have for a character’s queer sexuality, but putting aside the fact that many identities don’t benefit from that at all; (theoretically a bi person would have to kiss 2 different genders to ‘prove’ themselves this way, why would a trans person kissing anyone prove anything, asexual or aromantic obviously inapplicable, etc) w
It’s simply incorrect that text is less impactful than “action”, given that media is Text. The Text is what comprises its “action” and what it’s statement of intent is. A kiss is not action, a kiss is Text. A gay character that does kiss or meets whatever satisfaction the audience deems for “representation” is still a creation of Text as much as a gay character that never kisses anyone. There’s no separation there. This wholesale disregard of theme and meaning of text and subtext in fiction and instead only approving media-friendly headline screenshots is one of the greatest tragedies of modern popular culture.
Treating the ‘undeniable’ existence of a queer character as “action” and “representation’ and not examining the actual context of their inclusion and what the story says about their identity, their lives, and their experiences is how you get Disney’s First Gay Character popping up in the news twice a year- it’s become more important for the headlines to State that you have one than for them to actually be important or meaningfully written, or for the story to have anything to say about the character or their lives.
At this point of popular social media understanding, Queerbaiting simply does not mean what people have begun to use it to describe. Queerbaiting was intended to refers to deliberate marketing attempts to accrue viewership by over-promising the presence or importance of queer content to Bait in queer viewers hoping to be included. The key part of Queerbaiting is the intentional misdirection here, and because of that there is a very important distinction between queer subtext that is created to build intentional undertones and that which is included specifically to tease and entice viewers with the promise of more.
Many anime shows that people accuse of queerbaiting are doing exactly the opposite; in the case of Flip Flappers the overwhelming Text of the story is largely and centrally focused on the burgeoning sexuality of a young girl as she grows up and realizes that what her heart desires may conflict with expectations set by herself, her family, and society at large. That remains true through to the end of the story where she makes a breakthrough in her understanding of herself and her place in life and her sexuality is a major part of that.
A kiss is not at all required for this, but because there isn’t one people somehow become convinced that the story is “baiting” them desptie the actual meat of the story itself being fundamentally about being queer.
Now, there’s definitely room for subjective differences in appreciation here, especially taking more Yuri works as a whole (particular Slice of Life), in which many of them do place their queer undertones as a less central tenet that aren’t deeply explored. I’m not saying that you as an individual can’t feel that you’re not satisfied without a more substantial story; but it doesn’t mean these stories have Failed in their role of Representation; they still have value and purpose whether they meet that shallow criteria or not. And it doesn’t mean that they aren’t Real and these characters aren’t quite obviously gay to anyone paying even the slightest attention.
What I’m actually hearing most of the time is that people consider the capital r Representation buzzword to tick off a box of “HAS LESBIAN” to be more important to them than actually reading a Story about gay people that has something meaningful to say; Add further to this deeper disqualifying factors restricting death, tragedy, “unhealthy” relationships, etc. And you quickly begin to cut down the number of stories you accept to only those which portray a superficial, consumer-friendly veneer of queerness.
This is in itself a sanitization of Queer identity that doesn’t celebrate or represent anyone; it’s selling an idea of Queerness that is clean, palatable, easily accessed.
That’s simply not enough to satisfy me, and it shouldn’t be for you either.
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I'm terminally humanities brained, but I am kind of interested in pure mathematics and POM and generally just more mathematics oriented philosophy stuff/mathematics in general, I haven't studied any kind of maths since Highschool, how should I get into it? Should I read Quine?
Oh, this is a great question and I am very happy you have decided to send it to me! My answer reflects my particular views on mathematics and what it is all about, of course, so keep that in mind.
The number one thing I would like to convey about mathematics to someone coming from the humanities is that mathematics, far more than most fields, is something you do in addition to something you learn. Mathematical thinking has to be practiced, it is a skill that you train. If your primary interest is in philosophy of math, I'm afraid I haven't read very deeply on the subject and probably can't recommend a good starting place. Maybe... Russell? Look into Hilbert's program, and why it failed? But if you want to understand math "from the inside" instead of "from the outside", then you have to do math, and to that end I think "who to read" is the wrong question.
This might sound a bit scary, but I don't think it needs to be. Math is not so hard to do, although it is a very foreign type of thinking to those who are not practiced at it. In fact, this is why I think doing math is important even if your interests are primarily in POM; math is ultimately a human activity, regardless of e.g. what you believe about the ontology of mathematical abstractions, and I believe that in order to understand it fully (to have a picture of it beyond just its ontology) it must be understood as a human activity. Thus, one must do it, at least a little bit. It is, if nothing else, a whole realm of human experience all its own, and I think just about anyone would profit intellectually from spinning their mental gears in a mathematical way here and there.
Thankfully, there are many great places to start if this is your aim. I assume that what we're talking about here is "proof based" math rather than just calculation. To that end, a great introductory book is Velleman's How to Prove It, which will give you some guiding principles and many examples of how to approach a mathematical proof. Beyond that, I think you'll want to pick up an "entry level" introductory text (that is, an introductory text aimed at undergrads, etc.) on any math topic that strikes your fancy, and work through it—making sure that you understand the structure of the arguments (proofs), and attempting as many of the exercises as you can. The exercises are really the most important part. You cannot learn math without the exercises. You cannot learn math by reading it. The only way to learn is to try your hand at it yourself.
Expect your reading speed to be slow, and new concepts to be confusing. Expect to read things over and over, and fiddle with them in your head, before they make sense. Well, I mean, if you're anything like me or like most people. I think one of the biggest reasons people get turned off to math is that most of it just doesn't make any sense the first time you encounter it; it won't make sense until you've thought about it a lot.
One way or another, if you have a background in philosophy and are used to parsing and evaluating careful arguments, you will have a leg up on many people getting their introduction to proofs.
As for what topic to start with... you could always start with Euclid's elements, which is still a perfectly solid introduction to Euclidean geometry even after 2500 years. It does not quite meet modern standards of mathematical rigor (in other words, its proofs have gaps by modern standards), but realistically this is not a big deal: the basic thinking style is the same, and the gaps are somewhat subtle and technical IIRC, so I don't think it will really affect the beginner experience. On the other hand I believe at least a couple of Euclid's proofs are genuinely flawed (that is to say, they aren't just uncareful in their presentation, but are actually invalid in their structure), so maybe it's better to start with a modern work first.
Some books that I think are good for a beginner:
Graham, Knuth, & Patashnik, Concrete Mathematics — The focus of this book is on mathematical tools for computer science, but even if that is not your interest it's still a great book. It deals mostly with familiar concepts such as whole numbers and sequences (you might have encountered, e.g., the Fibonacci sequence), but is great for learning to problem solve and think mathematically.
Rudin, Principals of Mathematical Analysis, ("Baby Rudin") — If you want trial-by-fire. A lot of math undergrads have this as the textbook for their first proof-based math class, and it's notoriously challenging. Its topic is the field of real analysis, the rigorous foundations of calculus. I... wouldn't start here if I were you, honestly, but it's definitely a classic.
Some graph theory text. Some people seem to be recommending Wilson's, which has the convenient feature of being available online here. I haven't read it, but looking over it, it seems fairly gentle. There are a lot of pictures, and proofs don't enter the picture until a couple of sections in. Graph theory has the advantage of being very visual and having basically no prerequisites, so this might be a nice place to start.
Some abstract algebra book. If you're looking for a really clear presentation of the way mathematics is done today, starting with axioms and proving theorems deductively from them, etc., there is probably no place where it is more straightforwardly visible than in abstract algebra. The first math book I ever attempted was Herstein's Topics in Algebra; not the most beginner oriented, but certainly not inaccessible, and hey, it worked out for me! If this one is not to your liking there are a million books on e.g. introductory group theory you could look into, or the very canonical Dummit & Foote, or so on.
Uh yeah I think that's all I got. Anyone else feel free to put any more thoughts or recommendations in the reblogs!
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I think it's interesting that, a decade ago, I saw a lot of mainstream pushback against the very concept of butch flight (loosely, the concept that what proponents claim is an alarmingly large portion of very gnc women were beginning to form new identities in which they no longer considered thenselves women) and especially against the concept that an alarmingly large portion of very gnc women were beginning testosterone use and surgical interventions to cope with their gendered discomfort. I saw with my own eyes many an indiginant person shout that they knew many, many such people, and almost none of them were either forming new identities and/or turning to medical interventions, and that this was proof those changes were only occurring in people who had some inherent need for them. When I spoke with a professor about a paper I was working on on butch identity formations in a particular time period, she gave me a few potential sources and added blithely and presumptuously, "And I'm assuming you don't want to read anything about butch flight or things like that." I took note of these things even as I have been very clear for years that I think there is, in fact, something to see here. Experiences and cultures vary. While I did not see many people who lived in places like myself- big or medium cities, or citylike pockets near universities such as college towns- take so much issue with the concept, but I could not factually know what portion of us was affected, and where, and how.
Over that same decade, I have seen group after group after group of women like myself be affected by what I think is a real phenomenon- the spread of one particular way of coping with gendered discomfort among a population of people riddled with gendered discomfort, for whom entering an Uber, or presenting a passport in another country, or showing up for an interview, or going to a women's spa or changing room, can be nerve wracking experiences loaded with the weight of the quick, often totally unintended but sometimes outright cruel assumptions of other people. I have known one by one by one by one women who've decided, for various reasons, to end their testosterone use, or that they don't have a gender identity in a meaningful sense, or that they do and that identity is "woman." And I've watched as the phenomenon has become so commonplace that I've seen queer spaces shift their language on detransition- from "exceedingly rare" it has become "uncommon" for someone to stop because they changed their mind on continuing, or one totally benign form of identity exploration that a person was simply "wrong" about, and I have not seen the famous 1% "statistic" floated out by them in large pushes, as I used to. I have never argued before and will not now that it inevitably ruins a person's life to decide to stop a medical intervention, or to choose a medical intervention they come to regret. I have never argued before and will not now that looking uncommon for one's sex is a bad thing, or that the scar of detransition lies in one's ability to be accurately sexed by strangers. To be clear, the uptick in detransition and reidentification is not the point of this or my point- it is simply an inevitable consequence. Even if the 1% stat were correct, 1% of 1000 is still more than 1% of 10. That is, it is simply one of many byproducts of the increased change in identity among this population to begin with.
Now, in 2024, I honestly don't think I know anyone in my own country, especially anyone who lives in the kinds of places in it previously mentioned, who will earnestly decry that there is simply nothing to see here, and that the experience I'm detailing here is totally unfamiliar to themself and to any of their friends at all, and they have absolutely no idea what I'm seeing. I know some people who will chalk it up to increased public acceptance of transition leading to increased internal acceptance of transition and trans identity among people who were actually trans the whole time, and who argue that no one's identity has been actually influenced by what they are seeing and experiencing every day. I know some people who will chalk it up to increased information and access to medical interventions, where applicable. I do not buy that such a massive portion of this group was simply truly trans the whole time, but at least this argument attempts to account for the uptick. But I don't know any people who know a large number of very gnc women in similar social situations to myself who claim, out loud, that this isn't happening at all.
And yet the number of people that I see openly discussing the topic is just about the same, and the general hushed tone on the topic is just about the same, among LGBT people now as it was a decade ago, despite the decade of new inormation and experience. I don't individually have the way out of this cultural moment for us, and I admit that there is a real (if minute) possibility that the arguments that account for this by saying this was functionally inevitable/just a matter of more of us accepting that we require these interventions could be correct, but I think it's important that I continue to name the reality that I think I am seeing with own eyes. Doing so does not deprive anyone of dignity, does not deprive anyone of choice, does not deprive anyone of the ability to self determine or make their own medical decisions. It simply means not lying by ommission.
#i actually kind of dislike the term itself but i think it is important that i continue to be open about this#because so so so many people are simply extremely afraid to do so
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CONGRATS ON 3K!!! May i ask albedo + normal au + soulmate + fluff? I don't have any other ideas so plot is up to you! I'll be happy with whatever you write 🫶🫶
of inks and six toes
albedo x gn!reader
in a world where anything you write on your skin appears on your soulmate’s skin, albedo finds that much unlike his initial expectations, he does have a soulmate, and one that he’s surprised to admit he genuinely enjoys conversing with.
soulmate au, comedy, fluff, written for my 3k event!
Albedo learns how to pen words on his skin long before he learns how to write them on paper.
His master has always encouraged this little habit. Notes, reminders, and quick calculations done on the smooth skin of his arm, hands, and on the days where he’s covered in warm clothing from head to toe, his cheeks.
He’s always been curious, always one to voice out questions—this, too, is a habit his master encourages—but he’s never thought to ask why he must write more on his skin than on paper. It was simply a way of life. You sit on a chair, you drink on a cup, you bend the laws of physics using the forbidden art of khemia, and you write inconsequential things to your skin.
Must check test tube #32 on 06:45 and observe any difference, he writes to the inside of his wrist.
With every year that passes, his master becomes more and more displeased with him, claiming his lack of progress, but Albedo doesn’t understand. He’s been doing exceptionally well, excelling in his studies and furthering his knowledge with research, he’s even acquired the small hobby of sketching. He doesn’t understand which aspect he’s lacking in.
It isn’t until years later, when his master deems him mature enough to accompany her in one of her supply trips in a nearby town, that he learns about soulmates. And only five months after that trip does he finally understand what his master meant by progress.
There, written near an absentminded reminder by the inside of his wrist, is a shaky scrawl akin to that of a child’s.
Wat deos experiment meen?
✧
Albedo learns a lot of things within the span of a few months after his soulmate finally responds to him.
The first being that his master seems to be more satisfied with him lately. After the initial shock of the revelation that a synthetic human such as himself would even possess a soulmate, he hurried to show his master the scribbles you made on his wrist. Her threats of leaving him should he fail a certain task has also lessened, almost to a nonexistent degree. Perhaps having a soulmate is the greatest proof of life an artificial person like him could have.
The second is that he never knew talking to someone would be something he would find himself looking forward to everyday. To form relations such as friendship and actively put in the effort to maintain it were not things he anticipated to be this enjoyable. Or perhaps it’s because the person he’s speaking to—rather, writing to, is you, his soulmate.
And lastly, within the first few minutes of conversing with you, Albedo discovers that you are young. Incredibly so, in fact.
…Not that he’s in any position to call anyone young, being that he’s barely a decade old despite looking like a young man already. He supposes he should be thankful to have been born with fully functional limbs and motor skills, his master isn’t exactly the best caretaker for a child, much less a good parental figure (never mind that he already thinks of her as his mother).
hau old ar yu?
How old are you, he corrects, all while mentally calculating exactly how old he is. His master would know down to the very last second, but he can’t bother her with something as mundane as this. Truthfully, the first few years of his life were spent learning as much as he could about the world and alchemy, such that he never took much note of his age until he learned the concept of birthdays. He thinks his master celebrated him being a decade old about a month ago—and by celebrate he means she let him sketch as much as he liked and gave him a break on his studies.
He estimates that he is about ten. Probably.
So that’s what he answers to his soulmate, he does you the favor of writing it in numerical form to make it easier to read.
wow yur old! The words come alive on the back of his hand slowly, each letter uneven and some even written backwards.
You’re, he corrects, more out of habit than any real desire to teach you proper grammar, and 10 isn’t that old. Once you get older, you’ll find that 10 is considered quite young.
It takes you a while to respond, and within that time frame, Albedo finishes transferring a heated whooperflower extract into a test tube. It’s an exercise in patience, and thankfully he has plenty of it. He regrets not using easier words for you to understand, but erasing the ink on his hand and writing new ones will probably confuse you more than you already are.
okey! papa sed im 5 yeers old, turneeng 6 tomorow
You must be very smart to be able to read and write already at that age. I’ll make sure to wish you a happy birthday tomorrow, he replies.
It takes another few minutes for you to write back. but you’re smarter then me so wen did you read and write?
Albedo lets himself feel the slightest hint of pride at how you spelled ‘you’re’ correctly this time around. You’re a quick learner.
I learned before I turned a year old, but please don’t tell anyone. Not that anyone would believe you if you said your soulmate learned how to read and write (and transmigrate a small branch into a flower) before he was one, but better to be safe than sorry.
oohh is this wat mama cals a secret?
Yes, it is, and I would be very happy if you kept it.
okey! i wont tel enywon! :)
Thank you.
He spends the next few minutes making light conversation with you, occasionally correcting your spelling and explaining any concept you seem confused about—until his master berates him for neglecting his work, and he has to bid you a hasty goodbye and apology. You’re quick to understand his circumstances, even as young as you are, only writing a goodbye next to his with a small, misshapen heart that he strangely finds adorable.
The next day, right as the clock turned to 00:00, he writes Happy Birthday on each side of his cheek. His master raises a brow when she sees it, but the excited little drawings you write on your wrist more than makes up for the humiliation.
✧
Tomorrow is my first day of school!
Your grammar and spelling have improved drastically within the span of a year. Albedo deduces you’ll be outdoing your peers in class. Not that he’s the best judge for how a child would normally develop mentally, but from what he’s read, you’re clearly very advanced.
Good luck.
Thanks! I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow :D
I look forward to it, and he finds that he does indeed look forward to it.
✧
Hey soulmate what nation are you from?
You’ve developed the habit of calling him that due to his lack of interest in sharing his name.
Aren’t you in class right now?
Yeah but it’s boring :( tell me more about alchemy
You said yesterday that you find alchemy boring as well, he points out.
But alchemy’s the less boring subject
You should still pay attention in class.
Poopy head. Oh no the teacher is look———
✧
Who is Mondstadt’s god?
The Anemo Archon, though if we’re referring to his name, it’d be Barbatos.
What’s the name of Sneshneya’s capital?
Snezhnaya, he corrects, and it’s Zapolyarny.
And many more such questions, most of them only needing the most basics of knowledge.
Albedo answers them all dutifully, wondering whether this is a test to see how knowledgable he is regarding Teyvat. His master would not be pleased to see him idling about, doing nothing as he waits for his soulmate to write back to him instead of spending his time doing research.
Wow! I’m the only one who scored perfectly on the test!
His eyebrows rise, an idea forming in his mind at the same time as amusement.
A test? he writes back.
Yeah, for my school! You’re so smart! Thank you, soulmate ♡
Something swells in his chest. Warm and pleasant that leaves in him a sense of satisfaction he might akin to the feeling he gets after a successful experiment, or that of the heat that settles in his stomach after a hearty meal during a cold, winter day.
Fondness, he decides, it is fondness.
You’re most welcome. Although next time it would be better to consult me while you’re studying so you would not have to resort to cheating.
Hey! It’s not cheating, it’s called using the resources you have to your advantage.
He has to stifle a smile at how clever you’ve become. Though not clever enough to answer your own tests, it seems.
Using my words against me?
Of course, I learned from the best!
Learned…
To be able to impart knowledge upon others, it is something he had not thought possible until recent years, not with how isolated he is and his only human contact being his master. It is amongst many other less shallow reasons that he is glad to have met you.
To be able to influence others by teaching them what he knows. It is a wishful thought, but he thinks he’d like to do such a thing in the future.
✧
Aunt Alice just gave birth to a baby girl! Her name’s Klee and she’s so fat, are all babies this fat?
Albedo spends a long time staring at his wrist before managing to snap himself out of his haze.
He doesn’t believe in coincidences, but what are the odds that this Alice you were speaking of is the same Alice who just sent a letter to his master the other day about how she finally spawned a daughter. If they so happen to be the same person, then fate truly has a strange sense of humor, though perhaps he should have known that from the moment fate decided a homunculus should have a soulmate.
Yes, he finally responds, a little plumpness isn’t considered fat; in fact, it’s often a sign of healthiness. Also, please don’t call the baby fat right to her mother’s face.
Too late! Aunt Alice just laughed and agreed with me. Isn’t she the best?
He shakes his head in amusement and distantly notes how your Aunt Alice’s personality seems to align with his master’s friend.
✧
I’m joining the Knights of Favonius.
He blinks at the sight that greets him first thing in the morning.
Ah. Well, he supposes this finally confirms all his suspicions of you hailing from Mondstadt.
The clues were there, practically spoon-fed to him, from the innocuous mentions of a certain flower or the structure of a building you found ridiculous, but he didn’t want to form a solid conclusion until you confirmed it yourself.
Is there a particular reason for this decision?
I just feel a bit inadequate. I’m already fifteen but one of my friends has been a captain at the Knights since last year. I’m stuck here stagnating while the rest of my peers move on.
Albedo isn’t the best at comforting people. Years of isolation and limited contact have made socialization one of the fields he doesn’t excel at. He can be a bit tactless, as you once said. He’ll try though, for you.
You don’t need to conform to other people’s standards. Each person moves at their own pace. You needn’t pressure yourself by placing such high expectations on your shoulders. He ponders more on what he could say, until a thought occurs so he adds, With that said, do you want to join the Knights of Favonius or are you merely joining because you feel that you have to?
It takes you a good few minutes to write back. He patiently waits for you to compose an answer, abandoning the on-going experiment he has on the workbench in favor of investing his full attention to you.
Yeah, I think I do want to. Not just because I think I should, but I really want to join.
Then I wish you luck on your future endeavors.
He was about to turn back to his neglected experiment when he sees ink forming on his inner wrist.
And soulmate? you write, your handwriting shaky in a way he hasn’t seen since you were young.
Worried, he hastily scribbles, Yes?
I think I Thank you :)
✧
What should we say to each other if we ever meet in person?
Would you mind elaborating?
I dunno, cause I like to think I’d recognize your handwriting anywhere—and it better be the same case with you! So maybe we should have a secret phrase between us to identify each other.
I’m not very imaginative when it comes to these things. How about you think of a phrase?
Okay! How about this: Barbatos has six toes.
Pardon?
No one in Mond would ever think to say such a thing, which means no one would ever say it out of the blue and confuse us. It’s perfect!
Ah, I see. Alright, if that’s what you wish.
See this is why I lo you’re my favorite person ever :D
✧
Congratulations on being promoted to captain.
Thanks!! Only took about three years, of course, but totally worth the time and effort! I can finally boss people around :)
Please don’t.
No promises!
✧
I got a vision!
That’s a sign of acknowledgement from the gods, or so they say. Would you like me to congratulate you?
No need for that. Just try and guess which element I got!
Pyro.
How’d you guess so quickly?!
The element suits you. Passionate and driven, it was only a matter of time before you were given one.
I really heh who knew you thought so highly of me?
Who wouldn’t?
✧
I’m going to be busy for the next few days traveling.
Okay stay safe!
My master has entrusted me with a heavy task. This is the first time I
You’re going to do great. You’re the smartest and most capable person I know, soulmate!
Thank you.
✧
“So, this new guy, he’s an alchemist?”
“Yes, and apparently a very good one,” Jean answers your question, walking with you side by side as you make your way to the entrance of the Favonius Headquarters to meet this ‘Albedo’ fellow. Well, more like Jean’s on her way to meet him while you’re on your way home.
“Huh. Reminds me of someone I know,” you muse.
She looks at you with amusement. “You mean your soulmate?”
You laugh sheepishly. “I never shut up about him, do I?”
“That’s an exaggeration, I’d say you’re just very in love with him.”
“What?!” you screech, whipping your head towards her.
Jean laughs into her hand. “You’re not fooling anyone with how excited you get whenever he writes back to you.”
“I-I mean,” you deflate in defeat. “I guess it is kinda obvious…” you sigh, only to straighten when you reach the massive doors of the entrance of the Headquarters.
There’s a person with ash blond hair standing right by its awning, looking over something in a clipboard. He turns at the sound of your approaching footsteps. Your eyes meet, and within that brief moment of contact, it feels like you’ve known this stranger your entire life.
Jean greets him. He nods his head at her and introduces himself. She then turns to you, “I’m assigning you to be his guide for the next few days. Be kind, alright?”
Your jaw drops. “Wha—why me?”
“Because you’re the closest available captain in the area,” she answers with an uncharacteristically sly smile. Oh, you lament, she really needs to spend less time with Lisa.
“Fine, but I can’t do it today. I promised Klee we’d go exploring this afternoon,” you concede.
“It’s settled then!” Jean claps her hand before giving the two of you an encouraging smile and leaving briskly. What a busy lady…
You then turn to Albedo who’s been silently watching your interaction, and you find him looking at you like you’re a puzzle he can’t quite discern. Shaking off his strange behavior, you pull out a pen and offer your hand to him. He looks at it curiously before placing his hand into your palm.
“May I ask what this is for?”
You uncap the pen. “Just gonna write down the time I’m free tomorrow, y’know, so you don’t forget.”
“I see.”
Writing on the palm of his hand almost feels wrong. Somehow. A strange feeling you can’t quite place.
It’s probably the spoiled milk you drank earlier.
“And there! Now that’s done, I just need to…” you trail off, seeing a blot of ink in the palm of your hand.
Excitement fills you. Abandoning your new acquaintance in favor of putting all your attention to the new words in your palm, you don’t notice the look of realization that crosses Albedo’s face once he sees what you’ve written on his hand.
1:30PM, Tuesday on the…
Your mind blanks.
You don’t read much beyond that.
This.
This is your handwriting.
But you didn’t write this on your hand, you wrote this on—
Turning a shocked look to Albedo, who if your suspicions are correct, is your soulmate, you find him looking at you with that same wide-eyed look mirrored in your face.
After a few moments of staring, something seems to occur to him.
“Oh, right,” he suddenly speaks up.
He grabs your hand—the same one that has your free time tomorrow written on it—and looks at you with such seriousness, you couldn’t have possibly hoped to predict what he was about to say next.
“Barbatos has six toes,” Albedo says with a straight face before furrowing his brows in question. “That’s our phrase, isn’t it?”
Finding your soulmate unexpectedly, finally getting to hold his hand after fantasizing about it for so long, and him saying those damned words you’d meant as a joke all those years ago.
You can’t help it anymore.
You burst out laughing.
3k word count
#3k event#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#albedo x reader#albedo kreideprinz x reader#gn reader#soulmate au
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Hey there!! I wanted to share an experience I had after reading your excerpt from The Ultimate Truth posted @4dbarbie-archive yesterday. It really resonated with me and it inspired me to want to practice conscious creation instead of letting it happen because of subconscious programming. In particular this part (which is most of the extract lol):
Man was never intended to be a victim of circumstances. He is the controller of them, but has lost awareness of this fact. When he regains his awareness of it, he again becomes the master of circumstances, and consciously controls his environment. Matter, energy, space, and time are in mind. When man realizes this, he has mental control over them and controls them at his will. Man is unconsciously determining the world. When he wakes up to this, he gains conscious control. Creation is just a mental projection.
Lester also said in the Introduction of the book that it is necessary to prove it to yourself and never accept anything completely on hearsay:
A unique characteristic of this Truth is that it must be seen my each one through his own perception. No one and no book can do it for him. Necessary is the proof of Truth, and necessary it is that each one must prove the Truth for himself. Nothing should ever be accepted on hearsay. One should listen to, reflect upon, and then prove. The best attitude one may take would be to not believe nor disbelieve, but to accept Truths for checking. Then, and only then, after one has proven them without a doubt should one accept them. As Truth begins to prove itself, one gains more confidence in it, and then proofs come more easily and more readily; until finally, one perceives the Absolute Truth, — that we are unlimited beings, unlimited in our knowledge, power and joy.
So I've understood non-duality to a certain extent starting my "journey" from when 4dbarbie was still around and it felt like I eventually came to a sort of standstill. I just sort of fell into a lull and didn't feel anything about life in general. I really resonated with the teachings, stopped desiring anything and had let go of a lot of things but still didn't really feel connected to Self entirely (it would come and go). Recently though, I thought about how my life is just a mental projection of subconscious thoughts and how I would rather be able to consciously control it. For background, I've been using energy manipulation to heal my body using my mind and I think that's when I started to truly know that everything is just a projection of the mind (there's a much deeper innate knowing that comes from experiencing it than reading something and accepting it as truth). Then I started thinking back on the things I had "manifested" simply by deciding it to be so. And then I saw your excerpt and it really clicked for me.
To me, consciously controlling your circumstances is a "skill" because we're so used to living in limitation, it can take some time and development in order to remove those illusions of limitation (of course, it needn't take time, it depends on the individual!). I know in some LOA blogs, they call it intention setting so it's within the same vein imo. Anyway, after reading that extract and reading some of the book, I decided I wanted to practice conscious creation and strengthen this innate ability in order to connect me closer to the understanding and knowing that I am an infinite limitless being. Lester said "Matter, energy, space, and time are in mind." so I want to test all these although less so energy manipulation as I have already done this in numerous ways already. To me this was easier than the others but I now recognize that is a concept of limitation that doesn't need to be so as they are all equally mental projections. And I am not doing this to "get" any desires since I don't have any anymore, I am only doing it to remember the real me and exercise my innate natural ability of conscious creation and also "prove" it to myself through experience that I am limitless as Lester teaches.
I will give one example of "success" since I started last night! There's too much background history that I won't go over but basically this friend of mine stopped messaging me a few weeks ago and this had been a repeating cycle for a few years and it used to trigger me so much. Through being on this path, I let go of caring about it or wanting things to be different. But last night I decided to use this case scenario as a test subject for practicing conscious creation because I know I used to have a lot of mental resistance and triggers when it came to this person and if I really did succeed, it would truly be proof to me that this was purely a result of my conscious creation and not anything else.
So I decided in my mind that this friend would message me on instagram, I decided I didn't care if it was a text message or sharing a reel (though he normally sent reels so that would be most likely). I could still feel uncertainty over this after deciding so I decided it would happen the next day (today) in order for the test results to be more verifiable as not having a deadline could mean he could message me next year lol, too vague. I briefly saw it in my mind's eye the message but didn't dwell on it after, I just decided it would happen. Aaaanyway, I opened my IG messages earlier and GUESS WHO MESSAGED ME WITH A REEL!! I just laughed and got so excited, not because of receiving the message itself (since I let go of desiring anything from him long ago) but because of the proof it represented of my conscious creation! I want to emphasize this distinction because I had tried to "manifest" a text from him in the same way so many times before (because it's been a repeating cycle for so long lol) but it also came from a desire and attachment for the message itself (and connection with the person), while this time there was none of that but was from a non-attached perspective of just experimenting and testing my ability and wanting to practice and improve it. I want to add that I also had previously used LOA to "reality shift" to a "different reality" where he had messaged me the same day instead of leaving me on read for several weeks through "imagination" (this was way before I learned about non-duality so it was still driven by attachment and desire) but I gotta say this way of simply deciding it to be so is so much easier, simpler and better than having to "live and persist in imagination" lol but to each their own I guess?
So anyway, this is really exciting for me and I am going to continue on this way for fun!
🥳
Thank you for sharing your experience, that's awesome and I'm happy for you! 💖 Keep having fun and feel free to keep us updated on your future experiments!
This is the post anon was talking about. I highly recommend Lester's books for those who haven't read them yet (or have but want a refresher).
Edit: Adding this excerpt from The Ultimate Truth with my highlights
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I don't truly experience anything
- a poem of some sort, I suppose
aromantic - I've never felt this thing that others say define us as human.
this feeling that in media seems to be the one feature that qualifies an alien or a robot as owning a soul
this one feeling that everyone seems so obsessed over
the thing behind the curtains of everything
the thing that surely, no one could ever live without, right?
I've never been with a person, thinking about how I'd love to spend the rest of my life with them and them alone
I've thought I might have, several times, with my closest friends, the ones I feel comfortable around
but it's not the same
it's not how others describe it
I've never wanted to kiss anyone
the closest I've come to romantic love is platonic
but if it is
if it turns out I'm pan- and polyromantic
if I've only ever experienced romantic love, and never platonic
then I'm still one form of love short from everyone else
I'm still less
asexual - I've never wanted intimacy the way others seem to.
I've never seen a person and felt anything like what people have described
I've never been able picture myself in a sexual setting, and I've certainly never enjoyed it when I've tried
I've never experienced an orgasm, not even sure I could if I tried
I've never felt the need to do anything of the sort
I've felt the want to, sure, but even then, not really
because I've never wanted it for it, I've wanted it to feel included
I've wanted to know what everyone else seem to revolve their life around
I wanted to understand, and to stop being so alien to the people around me whenever I just don't understand something
agender - I don't understand it
really, it just doesn't make any sense to me
never has, and tbh I just thought we'd all agreed to just go with it, because that's what everyone else did
I've never felt like a girl
I've never felt like a boy
I have yet to understand what this "feeling" is supposed to feel like
I'm me
just me
my body exists, sure
and I guess it's keeping me alive, so I'll try not to damage it too much
but it has never really meant any more than that in any way that means anything
it's a house
and you can decorate it to your choosing
and sometimes you'd like to move, but then you look at the housing market at the moment and decide that actually
the house I have now isn't that bad
and of course, you can't tear down a load bearing wall, the whole house would collapse
but otherwise, do whatever you want with what you've got, and you'll be good.
I guess in that sense I've kind of seen trans people as claustrophobic people stuck in a small attic-appartment without windows
the housing market is still horrible, and so they start by making modifications
make a window
let the air in
maybe even make a terrace on the roof out the window
doing what make them feel better
and if that so means I'll have to stop calling their house and attic, because they've expanded so much it's really a proper house now, then sure, I'll change the mailing address, why not?
agnostic - I say agnostic, but really I'm just afraid to say atheist
because I've never been able to believe
I don't even think I've ever really grasped the concept properly
but I want to
I really really do
I want to believe that there's some higher power out there
that there's someone looking out for us
taking care of us
I so badly want that comfort that others seem to get from talking into the void and somehow still feeling heard
but I don't know how
belief is such an amazing thing
belief is unconditional trust, something I'd almost call stronger than unconditional love
it's trusting that someone else will do good without any guarantee beforehand
and yet even when it comes to my closest friends, I can't do it
because I only actually believe in them if I've seen proof of it before, and that's not belief, it's a conditional trust
and I'm so incredibly jealous of the ones who are able to do so
I wish I was religious
a human - ahuman
I sometimes don't think I'm human
and I it
so much
because these are the things that everyone else call "reasons to live"
these are the traits that everyone says define what it means to "be human" or "be alive"
and so if I don't
if I never experience the reasons to live
if I never experience what it is to be human
if I never experience the essentials of being alive
then what am I?
I have no reason to live, so I'm meaningless
I'm not a human, so I'm alien
I'm not alive, so I'm dead
I'm a meaningless alien, dead to the world and to myself
a non-human, walking around with no purpose or light
a nothing
existing in the background
and even then, not really existing either
because what is existence without purpose or life?
a - the greek prefix for no, and the letter that seems to pursue my very being
a-being
a-thing
no-thing
I'm nothing
I'm nothing, wanting everything
staring at the rest of the world as if through the pages of a book that I'm doomed to only ever read and never experience myself
I hate it
I'm jealous
I want what everyone else has
And I'm crying
Somehow
I'm crying
because even with all the everything that I just seem doomed to never feel
for some reason the universe never thought to add sadness to that pile
#aroace#asexual#aro#aromantic#lgtbqia+#lgbt#agender#agnostic#atheist#atheism#ace#sad thoughts#sad poetry#idk what to tag this as#i dont want to do this anymore#im tired#and im sorry#to anyone reading this who use the same labels I do#please don't feel bad about your labels or identity because of this#youre valid#im just a mess#sorry
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Supernatural & Paranormal Sentences, Vol. 3
(Sentences from various sources for muses exploring the unexplained. Adjust phrasing where needed)
"These sightings only occur on nights when there's a full moon, which tells me something."
"It happened just the way you said it would. How did you know?"
"What's the matter? Don't you believe in miracles?"
"The truth is out there. Maybe you should find it for yourself."
"You can't tell the difference between fantasy and reality."
"The human mind delights in grand conceptions of supernatural beings."
"The crimes we are investigating are paranormal, I can say that with absolute conviction."
"There are things you just don't know."
"Why can't you just go for the simple answer?"
"What would you do if you were a werewolf?"
"Lost time is a common symptom of close proximity to anti-gravity propulsion systems."
"We are all capable of believing things which we know to be untrue."
"You never believed in any of this stuff. This paranormal or whatever you call it. So, what changed your mind?"
"If you're waiting for my usual theory as to that is going on, I don't have one."
"Nothing happens in contradiction to nature, only in contradiction to what we know of it."
"I'm delusional? Did you just hear yourself?"
"You just jump at whatever explanation is the wildest and most far-fetched, don't you?"
"I don't buy your hollow threats."
"I have seen my share of the hideous, of the disgusting, and the repellent, but you are the most perfect expression I will ever see of all that is vile and hateful in life."
"What are you saying you believe now?"
"I believe that you will find all of your answers. You will find the answers to the biggest mysteries, and I will be there when you do."
"This isn't my life anymore. I'm done chasing monsters in the dark."
"Reality exists in the human mind, and nowhere else."
"There has to be a scientific explanation for this."
"Don't go looking for something you don't want to find."
"Have you considered that something else might be going on here?"
"The way I look at it, calling something paranormal is just a way of avoiding a real explanation."
"Are you monitoring my life? Bugging my phones?"
"Human logic doesn't apply to me."
"You have to believe me. Nobody else on this whole damn planet does or ever will."
"What are you even after out there? Do you ever even think about that?"
"If you look too hard, you can go mad, but if you continue to look, you become liberated."
"Just because there's magic in one place doesn't mean there's magic in every place."
"It's easier to believe in monsters out there in the world than to accept that the real monsters dwell within us."
"It's hard to believe in something when you can't understand it."
"The guy that we're after knows what it's like to have died and be dragged back."
"No, it doesn't matter that aliens from out of space have no genitalia - they still have groins, and they shouldn't be kicked there!"
"I'm not suggesting anything. I think the facts speak for themselves."
"Ghosts are benevolent entities. Mostly."
"What does that tell you? That I'm crazy, or that I'm right?"
"Next thing I know, you're going to tell me I'm the crazy one."
"What is this? Another one of your whacko conspiracy theories?"
"If there were secret experiments going on here, I wouldn't tell you."
"You have no idea about true evil."
"The conspiracy is not to hide the existence of extraterrestrials; it's to make people believe in it so completely that they question nothing."
"Without proof, we're nothing more than conspiracy mongers."
#rp meme#rp memes#roleplay meme#roleplay memes#rp prompts#roleplay prompts#sentence starters#supernatural;#assorted;
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Let Me Teach You
Pairing: Peter Ballard x Fem!Reader
Requested: 001 (henry creel) 34, 35, in comfort, and 37 in smut I feel like those sentences could make a really hot hurt and comfort smut 🥵 pretty please with extra cherries and sprinkles on top 🥺
Prompts: “Shh, just look at me baby.”
“I know, baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe.”
“Let me teach you.”
Warnings: Smut, Overstimulation, hint of Voyeurism, first time,
Summary: Super long PWP with you and Peter 😘
A/N: I usually refer to 001 as Peter instead of Henry, so that’s what I’ll be doing in this fic. Hope that’s okay! It’s mentioned in this fic that reader is an adult. I’m writing this with the mindset that she’s around 20/21. Thank you for reading! Also not proof read!
18+ Content So Minors DNI
~~~~~~~~~
Sometimes you think back to the lack of freedom and education that you were given in Hawkins Lab and it makes you shudder. It really was a nightmare. You were never allowed to shower alone, you couldn’t make any noise once you’d entered your room, you couldn’t go anywhere without the orderlies watching your every move, and nobody ever taught you anything that didn’t have to do with your powers. They would only throw you in the rainbow room filled with a bunch of different puzzles and children’s books for three hours a day, thinking that was all you ever needed.
And for a while it was. For the first many years of your life you were entertained by these things as most children were. But the older you became, the more tiresome you grew of them. You wanted to learn something else. Something more. Something new.
That’s why you befriended Peter so quickly. Being a fully grown adult and knowing nothing more than the words you’ve read in children’s books was frustrating to you, and he could see that. He would always enjoy teaching you new things, new words, and new experiences if it meant he got to see your face light up each time. It was easy to feel lonely at the lab, which is why you two found solace in each other.
After a few months, your friendship began to grow into more, and while you didn’t understand the concept of a “boyfriend” or a “relationship,” Peter was more than happy to enlighten you. But this time instead of explaining, he showed you. Sneaking into your room after lights out to talk for hours, spending more time with you than anyone else in the rainbow room, quick kisses and lingering touches when no one was paying attention. It was something new, and it made you happy.
You shake your head at the memory, eyes focusing back in on the 002 tattoo that you had on your arm. You realized that you had gotten lost in thought thinking about the lab. The two of you had escaped six months ago after you had been caught together and they tried to separate you.
After that, Peter had told you everything about his past and his powers and you were stunned to say the least, but you didn’t love him any less.
And now? The two of you were hiding out in a cabin somewhere in Maine. Peter had found a full time job working at the bakery across town, and you found a part time one at the library just down the road. You loved it. You loved being able to spend your entire day reading books and learning new things. It helped that your schedules were pretty similar.
On the days that the two of you both worked you could take the bus together, but after work you would have to walk home. You got done with work an hour after Peter did, so while he got to take the bus back home, it would unfortunately stop running before you were clocked out. You didn’t mind though, the walk was peaceful. At least, when it wasn’t winter.
Right now though you were at the front door, where your hand had been sitting on the knob for the last 5 minutes, right where your eye caught the tattoo. You sighed, shaking your head again before pushing the door open. You had expected to see Peter in the kitchen cooking dinner like he usually was when you arrived home, but he wasn’t there. Infact, he was nowhere in sight.
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you heard noises coming from down the hall towards your bedroom. As you got closer you could tell that the noises were coming from Peter, he was calling out your name and he sounded in pain. You immediately worried that they had found you. The lab. And now they were in there hurting Peter. You began to panic at the thought of him laying there helplessly calling out to you. You quickly and quietly made your way to the door, pushing it open just a crack to see inside.
Peter was lying on the bed, panting and moaning. You frowned in confusion, only able to see him from the waist up. You peeked your head in just a little bit more, and you had to hold in a gasp at what you saw.
Peter had his hand wrapped around his length, and he was stroking it. His head was tipped back and his eyes were closed as he moaned your name over and over. Sweat was dripping down his temples as he moaned again,
“Fuck Y/N, you make me feel so good baby.”
You bit your lip as you realized, he was making himself feel good while thinking of you. A weird sensation formed in your lower stomach as you slowly backed away from the door, making your way back down the hallway. You opened the front door quietly, making sure he wouldn’t hear, before shutting it behind you and sitting down on the porch bench. You wanted to give him privacy, you didn’t want to let him know that you had seen him.
But you couldn’t help the blush that rose to your cheeks when you thought about what you had seen.
The way your name left his lips sounded almost angelic as he desperately bucked his hips up into his hand. The memory alone was enough to make you drool, and you rubbed your thighs together to try to ease the tension in between your legs. You had read about this somewhere, in one of the library books. It was a random one that you had picked off the shelf that seemed to be popular with some of the older moms in town. There were a lot of surprising scenes written in that book, including one that was very similar to what you had just witnessed Peter doing.
Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted as the front door swung open and Peter stepped out, looking around at first with a slightly worried look in his eyes before they eventually settled on you.
“There you are, I was starting to get worried.”
Your eyes scanned over his body, the one that had just been completely naked just moments ago, and you started to imagine that it had been you stroking him, making him feel good.
A hand waved in front of your face as you were dragged back to reality.
“Sweetheart? Are you with me?” He asked, worried. You gulped and nodded in response, standing up abruptly and stumbling. He put his arms on your shoulders to steady you, and all of a sudden you were imagining them elsewhere. You imagined him squeezing your breasts as his lips made their way down the side of your neck, desperate moans leaving your lips as you clung to him.
You snapped out of it to find him staring at you.
“I-I’m sorry... what did you say?” You stutter. He raised an eyebrow at you before pressing his hand to your forehead, checking your temperature. “I asked if you’re feeling alright...cause it sure doesn’t seem like it.” He flips his hand over, gently dragging the back of it down to rest on your reddened cheek. “I don’t think you have a temperature, but your face is still very warm.” His eyebrows furrow in confusion as he tries to determine what’s the matter with you.
“I’m okay really, I’m just...tired. From walking...you know?”
He nods slowly not really seeming convinced, but you don’t give him enough time to question you as you quickly pushed past him, rushing inside and leaving him out on the porch. He stands out there for a moment, pondering, before eventually shrugging and stepping inside, closing the door behind him.
~~~~
It’s been a couple of hours since your interaction with Peter on the porch, and you haven’t been able to make eye contact with him since. You had spent most of your time in the bedroom continuing to daydream and fantasize about Peter while trying to keep the feeling in your lower stomach at bay.
Now you were sitting at the dinner table with him, attempting to enjoy the nice dinner that he had made for the both of you. But it was hard to even think about food let alone eat it when he was just sitting so close to you. A lot closer than he normally did.
“Is something wrong with the food baby?” You heard him ask. You shake your head, taking a bite to prove your answer. You continue to eat in silence for a few more moments which is not normal for the two of you, and you both know it.
“Y/N.” You hum in response, not looking up at him. “Y/N.” He repeats, placing his hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly. You tense up at that, your thighs pressing together once again. “Y-yes Peter?” you stutter out.
You can feel his eyes studying your form for a few moments. “I find it strange that you haven’t so much as looked at me since you got home.” He speaks lowly, hand tugging your plate of food away. You gulp nervously, and think that maybe you could ignore him for a minute longer, but he slides his fingers beneath your chin, pressing upwards until you look at him. You watch as his eyes scan over your features like he’s searching for something, speaking just moments later, “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you hm?”
Shaking your head, you try to look down but his fingers are ever present and you crack under his gaze, "I just- god, Peter, I’m so embarrassed-” his brows started furrowing, so you find yourself rushing the rest, "-and I don't want you to think I'm weird or anything but when I came home I saw what you were doing in the bedroom and now it feels like somethings wrong with me because I think I enjoyed watching you and- and I don’t know why I feel like this but I can’t get it to go away I’m just- I’m sorry I-” you rambled, breath picking up slightly and tears coming to your eyes in embarrassment as you tried to explain yourself.
Peter lowers his way out of his chair, crouching down in front of you to hold your face in his hands. “No...no no no sweetheart don’t cry please. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” You look at him with big doe eyes, sniffling.
“It’s not?”
He shakes his head, a pitiful smile gracing his face, “Not at all. It’s actually kind of...adorable.” He tucks a hair behind your ear, his touch causing you to shudder. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Peter and a lustful glint forms in his eyes. He trails his hand from your ear down the side of your neck, to your arm, before eventually placing it on your thigh, squeezing it lightly. Heat rises to your cheeks as you squirm beneath his touch, thighs rubbing together. He watches your reactions closely, a smirk forming on his lip as he watches you bite yours.
“P-Peter...” You stutter out, your breath hitching in your throat.
“I can help you sweetheart... I can help you feel better.” His eyes never leave yours as his thumb makes his way towards your inner thigh, gently stroking, “Is that what you want?”
You nod slowly, “I-It is but... I don’t know how to-”
“Let me teach you.” He cuts you off, his other hand stroking your cheek, “Let me teach you something new hm? I know you like it when I teach you things.”
A quiet, desperate whimper leaves your lips at his words and your legs begin to tremble underneath his touch. You take a deep breathe before answering with a nod,
“Yes please.”
Peter smiles, standing up and offering his hand to you. You instantly take it, following him to the bedroom. He closes the door behind the two of you and spins around to find you standing in the middle of the room, eyes to the floor and twiddling your thumbs nervously. Peter chuckles at the sight of you, and you look up at him innocently.
“Why don’t you lie back on the bed for me sweetheart?” Peter asks sweetly. You nod, doing as he says. Once you’re situated he climbs on top of you, his lips immediately findings yours. This you were used to. You could spend all day kissing Peter with your hands tangled in his hair and you’d have absolutely no complaints. But then he started moving out of comfortable territory. His lips made their way from yours, down your jawline and eventually to your neck, where he began to gently suck and nibble at your skin.
You were tense at first, unsure of what to do, where to put your hands, how you should react. You were so...nervous. Peter glanced up at you, taking this in. He gently grabbed your wrists, maneuvering them so they were wrapped around him and resting on his back. His head dipped down against your cheek, placing a chaste kiss there before murmuring, “Don’t think so much, just let your body take control.”
His lips find their way to your neck once again, and you began to relax, tilting your head back to give him more access. Your hands roamed his back as breathless pants and whines left your lips while he marked you. You could tell that he relished in the pretty little noises that you were making, as gentle moans made their way from his mouth to the flushed skin of your neck. It wasn’t long before red and purple hickeys decorated your skin and Peter pulled back, admiring his work.
“What a pretty sight you are.”
You blushed heavily once again at his words before you pulled him back down to you, your lips meeting his once again. His hands began to roam your body, making their way from your face, down your chest, eventually resting on your hips.
“Is it okay if I start to remove your clothes darling?” He asks you gently. You bite your lip nervously, unsure if you were ready for that. “I don’t want to do anything that you’re uncomfortable with.” He adds, giving you a reassuring smile as he places a comforting kiss to your temple. You ponder for another moment before a burst of courage surges through you and you nod.
He tuts his tongue in response, reaching up to stroke your cheek. “How about we use our words hm?” He states, a stern tone added to his voice. You take a breath before responding with a very meek, “Yes Peter.”
He smiles, satisfied, before leaning in to kiss you again, murmuring a small “Good girl” against your lips. He slowly guided the hem of your shirt up and over your head, leaving you in your jeans and your t-shirt bra. His mouth practically watered at the sight of your breasts.
You whimper pathetically in response to his gaze, and he gently reaches around you to unclasp the hooks of your bra, pulling it from your body. He stares down at your breasts in awe, reaching up to fondle them in his hands as you bite back a moan.
“God you’re so fucking perfect.” He murmurs, leaning down and taking your right nipple into his mouth, gently sucking as his tongue circles around it. He looks up at you while he fondles your other breast, watching you fall apart underneath him. You were writhing, your hands running through his hair as content little hums left your lips. He switches positions, giving your other breast some attention before he starts to make his way further down, from the valley between your breasts and down your stomach, eventually reaching the hem of your pants.
He delicately unbuttons them and wraps his fingers around the hem. He pauses for a moment to look up at you with smirk before he drags them down your thighs, taking your panties with them. A gasp of surprise leaves your lips, realizing you’re now completely bare in front of Peter. His eyes somehow manage to grow even more lustful as he stares at your drooling cunt.
“Is this all for me?” He asks leaning forward, his breath hot against your core as he swipes a finger up your slit. Your hips buck up and a strangled moan escapes your throat when he does so. “You poor thing, you’ve been this worked up for hours haven’t you?” His thumb gently circles your clit and you can only mewl in response, hips bucking again.
“I’m gonna make it all better baby. I’m gonna make you feel so good.”
That’s the last thing he says to you before he licks a long strip from your weeping hole all the way up to your clit, beginning to suckle on the sensitive little nub. You gasp sharply, thighs attempting to close around his head but pushes them back apart, holding them still.
You desperately try to cling onto something, anything; eventually settling for Peters hair. You tug on it, holding on for dear life as he eats you out. His bright blue eyes watch your reactions intently from between your legs as you completely fall apart. He’s locked onto the way that your eyes roll back into your head, moaning and panting his name repeatedly from those cute lips.
He begins to prod one finger at your hole, gently circling the tip around your soaked entrance. Your eyes widen in realization and you tense up immediately. Peter pauses, pulling his finger away slightly, gauging your reaction.
“I’m just going to stretch you out a bit okay sweetheart? Want to get you nice and warmed up to take my cock.” You blush at the way he worded it, and nod nervously. He slowly pressed his finger against your hole once again, “It’s going to be uncomfortable at first but I promise I’ll be gentle okay?” You nod once again and his eyebrows furrow, his grip on your one thigh tightening. “Words baby. Use your words.”
“Y-Yes Peter.”
He wastes no time before slowly pressing his finger inside of your tight hole. You squirm in discomfort at first while he pulls his finger out, only to slowly thrust back in.
“God you’re so fucking tight Y/N...you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
You bite your lip to prevent the whine attempting to leave them. You feel him dip his head down once more as he begins to suck and swirl his tongue around your clit again, distracting you from the discomfort. After a few more moments of thrusting you began to enjoy the feeling of being stretched out around his finger. “M-more please Peter...I want more.” You beg, almost pathetically.
“Such a polite little thing you are. Of course my love, you’re taking me so well already.” He prods another finger at your hole, sliding it in very easily as he goes back to attacking your clit with his mouth. This time the stretch burns, but in a good way, and your hips buck up to meet his hand once again. You begin to feel an intense sensation building in your lower stomach as your moans start to grow louder and louder.
“O-oh god Peter, it feels so good I-I...”
He hums in response against your clit as he thrusts a third finger inside of you. Your hands grip his hair harshly, sweat drips down your face, and your muscles begin to tighten as the pressure in your core builds to a climax. The hand that had been holding your thighs apart slid up to your lower stomach and pressed down lightly.
And just like that you were too far gone.
Choked out moans and pants leave your pretty little lips as you come hard around his fingers, your drooling cunt pulsing around them.
“Shh, shh," he hushes you. “There you go baby, all over my fingers. Such a messy little thing you are...” He continues finger fucking you through your orgasm, his thumb circling your clit. Eventually though it’s too much, you’re too sensitive.
You squirm away from him, whining, and he shushes you as he gently removes his fingers from your poor sensitive little cunt. “Alright baby, alright. It’s okay.” He says to you, before licking your cum off of his fingers, relishing in the taste of you. He slowly climbs back up your body, hovering over the top of you as he slams his lips against yours. You begin to undo the buttons of his shirt, and you can feel how hard he is through his pants as he grinds down against your leg, causing you to gasp. He smirks down at you, gauging your reaction.
“You see what you do to me baby? You feel how fucking hard you make me?” You nod innocently, the thought of him being inside of you almost making you drool. He sits up, straddling you as he removes his shirt and begins to undo his buckle, before sliding his pants and then his boxers down his legs, until he too is completely naked.
You stare in awe as his cock bobs out of his boxers. It was throbbing red and the tip was glistening with precum, he was a decent size and it was so....so thick. You knew that the stretch would most certainly burn more that it did with his fingers. This time as you were staring at it, you actually began to drool and he chuckles at you. You watch him lean over to the bedside table, pulling out a little square packet, tearing it open and rolling the rubber content from inside over his cock. You didn’t know what it was, you didn’t care. You would ask about it later because the only thing you cared about right now was him.
He slowly crawls back on top of you, resting his forehead against yours. He makes sure you’re still fully into this by asking you, “Are you sure you want this sweetheart?” You nod eagerly, pulling him into a kiss as you feel him lining up his cock with your already ruined cunt.
He pulls his lips from yours and gauges your reactions as he slowly begins to push his cock inside of you, your walls attempting to adjust to him. You hiss in pain, tears pricking your eyes as you grip Peter tightly, nails digging into his back.
“P-Peter i-it hurts...”
He moans at how tight you are around him, but is more focused on your comfort than his own pleasure. “I know, baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe.”
He pushes his cock the rest of the way inside of you, just barely bottoming out as his balls rest against your ass cheeks. You groan and whimper in pain as you try to adjust to his size. Your cunt flutters and pulses around him, still sensitive and he groans. “God sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight around me. Taking me so well. You tell me when you want me to move okay baby?”
You gasp out in pain as he shifts just slightly inside of you and you nod, “Y-yes Peter.”
He leans down, pressing his lips to yours in an attempt to distract you from the pain. His lips feel soft and warm against yours, and they taste like the vanilla chapstick that he loves so much. His hands reach up to cup your face lovingly as you make out, and you smile into the kiss.
After a few more moments of kissing, you nod your head to him, signaling for him to start moving. And he does, very slowly. It definitely still hurts, enough to make the tears that were pricking at your eyes fall down your cheeks. A small pained cry leaves your lips as he thrusts again and again.
“Shh, just look at me baby,” He whispers, continuing to stroke your cheek, “You’re doing so good for me, taking me so fucking well. I don’t know what I did to deserve you but your perfect, you’re so fucking perfect. It’s like you were made for me. I love you so fucking much.” He rambles, pecking your face in between every sentence until you begin to giggle.
“I love you too Peter- ah!”
You were cut off by a moan as he thrusted deep inside of you once again, the pain beginning to dissipate, slowly being replaced with pleasure. A smirk forms on his face as he thrusts into the exact same spot, causing you to mewl in response.
“There we go darling....feels nice doesn’t it?” He asks you, “I’ve been waiting for so long to fuck you like this and ruin your pretty little cunt. I’d touch myself every day when I got home just imagining I was fucking you.”
Your eyes roll back again at his words and you moan, “O-oh god Peter...I feel so full.” He grunts into your ear as he reaches down, toying with your clit again, using his thumb to circle it as his thrusts begin to pick up the pace. Your hips desperately buck up to meet his and you can feel the pressure beginning to build again.
“God you’re so fucking tight baby, I’m so close, so fucking close.” He pants, leaning his forehead against yours. He starts rubbing your clit even faster and his thrusts start to become more sloppy. Your pussy starts to pulse around him again as you grow closer and closer to the edge.
“Peter I’m gonna- oh fuck I-”
“Cum for me baby, just relax and let go for me. Let yourself feel good.”
And you do. With one final thrust of his hips inside you your vision goes white and you’re taken over by pure bliss. Your head falls back and your back arches as you cum hard all over your boyfriends cock. Peter thrusts two to three more times before he releases as well, panting and moaning as his cock twitches inside of your poor abused little pussy.
He wishes he could fill you up with his cum and watch it leak out of you while your cunt is still sensitive and pulsing, but he knows you’re not ready for that yet. Instead he slowly pulls out of you, taking off the condom and throwing it in the trash. His eyes drift over your form proudly as you lay there exhausted and out of breath.
He leans down to admire the aftermath of your cunt, and moans as he watches it continue to twitch and pulse around nothing as your hole leaks onto the bedsheets. He smirks and decides to do something a little bit evil, and cleans you up with his tongue. He’s quick to hold your legs down as he licks all of your juices up. You immediately cry out, feeling extremely sensitive and try to buck your hips away from him, to no avail.
His tongue finds its way inside your hole, fucking in and out of you just as his cock was only two minutes prior. The feeling is so intense for you and you try to shove him off with your powers, but to no avail. He was already stronger than you, and you were just a weak little thing right now. He senses your attempt however, and looks up at you pouting.
“I was just trying to clean you up darling, but it seems I’m gonna have to teach you a lesson.” He smirks at you, before pinning your hands to the mattress with a flick of his head. He re-pins your thighs down with his hands and continues his attack on your poor little hole with his tongue, occasionally circling it around your sensitive and tortured clit just to make you squirm and whine.
“P-please Peter it’s so sensitive I-I....”
“Shhhh, just one more for me baby. You can do that can’t you? You can be a good girl and give me one more.” You nod, as best as you can, wanting to please Peter as he fucks you with his tongue. Your orgasm builds a lot quicker this time and he knows it.
Peter closes his eyes as he continues to eat you out, focusing all of his energy into your poor little pussy, wanting you to cum as hard as you possible could. Your eyes widened as the pleasure grew immensely and your legs began to tremble. By this point you were yelling Peter’s name in utter ecstasy, as he forced another orgasm out of you. The feeling was so intense that you cried your way through the orgasm, your whole body trembling.
You fade in and out of consciousness for a few minutes, your body trying to play catch up with everything that had just happened. When you finally came to, the sheets had been changed, you were completely dressed in your pajamas and your hair was wet. You felt... clean.
How long were you out for?
Peter steps into the room a moment later, a towel wrapped around his waist. He hadn’t noticed you had awoken when he dropped the towel, pulling on a clean pair of boxers before crawling into bed with you. Just as he does, you roll over to face him. He looks at you in total surprise.
“I thought you had fallen asleep for the night.”
“Yeah well I thought I’d fallen asleep for 2 minutes.” He chuckles at that, pulling you into his chest. “No baby, you’ve been out for the last hour. I cleaned you up and everything...guess I really did a number on you hm?” He looks down at you, stroking your cheek as it turned a bright pink.
You’re silent for a few seconds before you look up at him. “Peter?” You ask, and he responds with a hum of adoration. “Thank you,” you whisper, tracing imaginary shapes onto the bare skin of his chest, “For everything. I love you.”
He smiles at that, pulling you in to kiss your forehead, “You know I’d do anything for you sweet girl, I love you too.”
#fiction#henry creel#imagines#peter ballard#stranger things#001 stranger things#writers#smut#my prompts#dialogue prompts#requested#peter ballard x reader#peter ballard smut
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