When Reality is just a suggestion

Alice lay prone beneath him, cheek resting on one folded hand, looking faintly bored.

(https://im.ge/i/QMGC1aa)
(artist:miyu)

Another full hour of Aether’s increasingly frustrated attempts had produced the same gentle, polite climaxes and the same unbroken smile. She let him keep working himself against her ass, the wet slap of his hips the only real sound in the room, while her mind clearly wandered toward something more interesting than another failed attempt to ruin her.

A small flick of her wrist changed the rules.

The sensation hit Aether like a second body being dropped over his own.

Suddenly he could feel the stretch from the inside — the thick, sliding pressure of his own cock driving deep into her, the way her walls clung and fluttered around every inch, the faint, sweet ache that bloomed each time he bottomed out. He felt the spots he kept missing: a slightly higher angle that would drag directly across the swollen front wall, a slower grind at the end of each thrust that would kiss her cervix instead of just punching it. Most of all he felt the empty, hungry pull of her womb itself, a low, insistent wanting that had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with being filled and claimed. The organ seemed to tighten in anticipation every time he drew back, as if it were reaching for him.

The shared feed was intimate and disorienting. He was still the one thrusting, still the one holding her hips, but now every movement came with a second layer of information — how good the current depth felt from her side, how much better it would feel if he shifted two inches to the left, how her body quietly catalogued every stroke and still found it merely pleasant instead of overwhelming. The boredom he had seen on her face now made sense; he could feel the gap between the force he was using and the threshold she actually needed.

Alice’s voice drifted back to him, still light, still amused.

“There. Now you can stop guessing. You can feel exactly what you’re doing to me… and exactly what you aren’t.”

Aether’s next thrust adjusted on instinct, chasing the spots the new sense had just highlighted. The dual awareness — the tight heat around his cock and the deep, aching welcome of the womb that wanted him deeper — pulled a raw sound out of his throat. The game had changed, and for the first time in hours the witch beneath him was no longer an unreachable wall. She was an open map, and she had just handed him the legend.,

The shared sensation rewrote the pace without either of them discussing it.

Aether’s next thrust slowed on its own. He felt, from the inside, exactly how the previous brutal rhythm had been skipping the places that actually mattered — the long, grinding press against her front wall, the way her womb seemed to soften and open when he stayed deep instead of pounding. He adjusted, sank in to the hilt, and simply held there, rolling his hips in a slow, careful circle that dragged every inch across the spots the new awareness had highlighted. Alice’s breath left her in a genuine, unguarded sigh.

(https://im.ge/i/QMGABsf)

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back against his chest, the other hand sliding up to cup her jaw so he could turn her face toward him. The kiss that followed was unhurried and searching, nothing like the earlier attempts to choke the smugness out of her. He could feel, through the link, how the tenderness registered — a warm, spreading pleasure that her body accepted far more readily than force. Alice kissed him back with unexpected softness, tails finally unfurling in lazy, contented arcs across the sheets.

They moved together like people who had been doing this for years.

Every grind was answered by a small shift of her hips that told him, through the shared feed, that he had found the exact angle her womb wanted. Every time he lingered at the end of a stroke he felt the low, aching pull of that empty space asking to be filled more completely. The perfectionist in him locked onto the new data and refused to waste it. He stopped trying to break her. The goal narrowed to a single, consuming focus: give her body exactly what it was asking for, as precisely as possible, and feel the result from both sides at once.

Alice responded in kind. The bored, clinical detachment faded into something warmer and more present. She reached back to rest a hand on his thigh, guiding him with tiny pressures that the link translated into clear instructions. Her climaxes stayed gentle, but they arrived more frequently now, rolling through both of them in soft, shared waves that left her moaning into his mouth instead of merely smiling through it. She still never came close to the shattered, wordless surrender he had wrung out of Yae. She did not need to. The trap had already closed the moment he started chasing her pleasure instead of her breaking point.

They stayed like that — slow, deep, almost loving — while the morning light finally crept across the bungalow floor. Aether was too absorbed in the perfect, dual-sided map of her body to notice that the witch had steered him exactly where she wanted him: not as an opponent trying to win, but as a partner trying to get it right. And Alice, still unbroken, still smiling against his lips, let him.

Time dissolved inside the shared sensation.

Aether could not have said whether they stayed locked together for minutes or hours. The slow, grinding rhythm, the careful kisses, the way Alice’s body kept answering every small adjustment with another warm wave of pleasure — all of it blurred into a single, dreamlike stretch that felt both endless and too short. Part of that distortion was almost certainly her doing. The witch who could flip a coastline could just as easily stretch or compress a morning until the man inside her lost every reliable marker of how long he had been there.

Then Alice simply stopped.

“Time’s up,” she said, voice light and final.

She peeled herself off him without argument or lingering, the wet heat of her cunt sliding away in one smooth motion. Before he could reach for her again, clothing settled over her body as if it had never left — clean, neat, not a drop of sweat or cum remaining. Alice stood, gave a small, theatrical flourish with one hand, and her belly swelled in a rapid, impossible curve. In the space of a few heartbeats she went from flat to unmistakably eight months pregnant, the heavy roundness stretching the front of her dress as though the child had been growing there all along.

(https://im.ge/i/QMGAnB1)

Aether stared.

Alice pressed a finger to her lips in a coy little request for silence.

“I do so hate to wait, you know.”

The implication landed a second later. She had spent a day and a half on this island — through the Inazuman block, the Mondstadt block, the Liyue block, the rankings and the rest — simply waiting her turn. For her, that patience was already an extraordinary concession. He must have been worth the wait for the scarlet witch to show this level of patience for anybody.

Aether let out a short, disbelieving breath and sank back against the cushions, a tired smile tugging at his mouth. The absurdity of it, the sheer Alice-ness of rewriting her own timeline rather than endure nine ordinary months, felt almost affectionate in its impatience.

He did not notice himself falling asleep.

Two hours vanished in the same dreamlike blink as the rest of the morning. When he next opened his eyes, the pregnant witch was gone and two very different figures stood over him.

(https://im.ge/i/QMGy3I1)
(artist: depressu)

Yelan and Shenhe looked down at the passion claimer, the man still sprawled on the cushions, and at the faint, lingering scent of incense and sex that Alice had not bothered to erase. The next team had arrived, and the Passion Claimer’s detour with the witch was officially over.