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historiaxvanserra · 4 months

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Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of

Pairing: SingleDad!Rhys x Reader

Summary: After his mate and the mother of his son abandons them, The High Lord and Nyx are left alone and wanting.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: allusions to sexual assault, allusions to depression, abandonment, broken homes (y'know keeping it light, in all seriousness this is not all angst it's quite sweet actually).

The sky is painted in hues of lavender and mauve and the flowering ivory clouds shade Velaris in a perpetual state of dusk. The silvery light of the waxing moon seems to cast you in a gentle opal light as you approach the opulent manor. The High Lord’s townhouse is nestled in the heart of the city of starlight and wreathed in the colors of twilight; a slate facade that looks as though it is crowned in green, climbing ivy and night-blooming jasmine frame the large bay windows on the ground floor. From here you can see the large stained-glass window on the top floor, light refracts and it casts a myriad of dancing light onto the stone below-- dappled pinks and roses that fracture and give way to amethyst and indigo.

You spare a look to your aged companion as she breaches the threshold of the High Lord’s residence and, on unsteady feet, approaches the ornate wooden door and knocks thrice.

You remain for a moment a solitary figure at the entryway of the property, contemplating the series of events that led you here. Mother above, you chastise yourself. The thought occurs to you then, that perhaps you had made a mistake in coming here; that you should have given yourself more time, that you should have remained in the quiet solitude of the library where the world seems like a bitter memory.

“Come, girl.” Madja’s voice is tired and impatient as she beckons you closer with the wave of a crooked finger. “Don’t just stand there.”

You swallow thickly, bowing your head in obedience and you notice how her eyes soften as you approach the door tentatively.

“Nervous?” the old woman asks, you feel her eyes on you-- examining and critical.

“A little,” You admit, eyes downcast as you loose a shaky breath, “I haven’t left the library besides for training in quite some time.”

You stare down at the sleeves of your faded pewter robes as they billow in the evening breeze; the silver embroidery around the cuffs has begun to fray and the layers of fabric gather about your waist, the pleats have been poorly ironed and the heavy fabric falls over the curve of your hip haphazardly and pools to the floor in a swathe of heavy cotton. Shame pools in your stomach at the sight of your slippers as they peek out from the skirts of your robe.

It’s about time you asked Clotho for a new set of robes you think.

“You’ve met him before, no?” Madja’s voice breaks the tenuous peace you have found in those moments. You look up at her and a deep set frown graces her weathered face, “when you first came to Velaris?”

The visions fall on you like night; the Moonstone Palace saturated in onyx and jade, the reflections of your face in the marble of the throne room floor, the sentries as they dragged you before the High Council. The sounds of your screams and a sea of rubies and pearls as the bodice of your dress is torn away from your heaving chest-- all that red. Terrible and red.

Hewn City had always been cruel to you. You, a useless daughter to an ambitious man. The dreams are less vivid now but the sound of footsteps on marble still haunts you.

“Yes, it was him who brought me to Velaris-- after-afterwards,” You acquiesce to her questioning, eyes set on the light beyond the frosted glass panes of the onyx doorway, “though I doubt he remembers.”

Your avenging angel.

Madja looks at you carefully, taking account of you before she nods to you in silent acknowledgement.

The door to the High Lords townhouse opens with a flourish to reveal Morrigan. She’s more beautiful than you remember, radiant even as the dark shadows of sleep cling to her. Her golden hair hangs in loose waves over the delicate curve of her shoulder and though the deep umber of her eyes meets yours in a warm inviting stare as she utters your name.

She knows your name.

“Come on in from the cold.” she beckons you with the curve of a slender hand. You smile politely as you cross the threshold of the house. The wards fall away as you pass through into the foyer and the smell of mandarin and night blooming jasmine flood your senses.

The foyer to the townhouse is truly beautiful; a testament to the fine artistry and craftsmanship that seemed to define Velaris’ art district. The walls are paneled wood, painted in a shade of twilight that can only be found here, in The Night Court, and the burgundy carpet so rich in color that it reminds you of a blood moon, the oil paintings that hang on the walls seem to exude an air of majesty unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

In this room night reigns triumphant and you behold it all with a sense of wonder and awe. A careful deference to the love and care contained between these walls. It is a home that has been truly cherished by the people that live here.

“Did Madja tell you why you had been summoned here?” Morrigan’s voice is soft and sweet and the feeling of her hand on your robed arm pulls you from your thoughts.

“Sorry - I - uh” I stutter, glancing between her hand on my arm and the unyielding warmth of her gaze. “No she didn’t, only that there was a position in the High Lord’s household that Clotho recommended me for.”

“It was my recommendation actually,” Morrigan smiles proudly, letting her hand drop to her side idly. “Clotho just happened to agree.” The words leave her lips with the ghost of a smirk as she recalls the conversation between her and the High Priestess.

The last time you had spoken to Morrigan would have been in Hewn City, all those years ago. You abandon yourself to those days; when you had been the cursed daughter of a capricious Lord. The girl you were died under that mountain. The woman that stands in her place had been forged of blood, and splintered bone-- made strong by violence and tempered by time.

You nod solemnly and cast a glance to Madja who watches on in quiet curiosity.

“Rhys is upstairs,” Morrigan says softly to you both, gesturing up the staircase to the upper level of the house, “I’ll fetch him down”.

You notice then how troubled Mor looks. The rings around her eyes are pale purple and blue and her skin, once radiant, has become pale and sallow. She begins her ascent up the stairs with a small wave of her hand signaling Madja to follow. From here you can see a singular light that pierces through the blanket of the dark that shrouds the upper levels of the house.

Mor regards you once more as Madja passes her on the stairs and points towards the ornate door that leads to the antechamber at the heart of the house. “Go on in, we won’t be a moment.” In a flourish of golden blonde hair and crimson Morrigan winnows away and leaves you to linger in the foyer for a quiet moment.

The smell of cherries and marigold shades the air in her absence.

Voices, disembodied and distant from the upper levels of the house draw you into the heart of the house.

The antechamber of the High Lords townhouse is a beautiful living room, plunged into near darkness spare the slivers of jade light that dapple the dark walls from the emerald chandelier, even in the darkness you can make out the dark marble of the hearth that is draped with moonflowers and ivy. The low backed chairs are elegant and worn from use and there are books strewn about the room and a small library contained neatly in the alcove.

Your eyes find the painting hung above the hearth; immortalized on oil and canvas the High Lord of Night and his Lady. The High Lord is painted in a deep navy tunic and the silver paint mimics the delicate embroidery favored by the Velarian tailors in The Rainbow. His violet eyes shine bright against the dark.

He is a thing of dark beauty, you think.

In this light, his High Lady looks as though she is wreathed in starlight as smiles down on the antechamber from her place above the hearth. You observe the pointed curve of her nose and the upturn of her cerulean eyes and something aching and jealous festers in you at the sight of her beauty.

Otherworldly and ethereal.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The low tenor of a man calls out from the darkness of the room, the voice is measured and devoid of any emotion as it permeates the dark. The male cuts an intimidating figure in the low light and all thought and sound eddies from your mind. You’re sure the sound of your heart like an echoing war drum is loud enough to shake the mountains as he takes a step towards you.

“High Lord?” you question. He steps further into the light and you regard him pensively; his skin is pallid and his eyes are ringed with dark circles of amethyst that trouble you. His onyx hair is left tousled and the ends have grown long enough to curl away from the harsh lines of his face. The sharp junction of his jaw has become obscured by the smatterings of coarse, black hair that grow there.

Even still, even in the unforgiving jade light, he is the most beautiful male you have ever seen. He smells of night blooming jasmine and violets undercut with something inherently masculine. Pine and whiskey perhaps.

His presence is something truly captivating; dark and intoxicating. When he looks at you there is only dark in those violet eyes.

The High Lord sinks into the worn armchair by the hearth with a deep sigh and for a moment he allows his eyes to flutter closed as he breathes deeply and all you can do is surrender yourself to that dark magnetism. The dying fire in the hearth warms him and in this light you notice the golden hues of his skin and the dark inky trails tattooed across the planes of his chest where his shirt opens.

“You’re staring--” The High Lord’s violet eyes falls onto you. In those liminal spaces between the seconds, when he is looking at you, all ceases to be. You tilt your chin downwards, hoping to avert his gaze, as you offer him a courteous bow.

“My apologies High L-” the apology is cut off by the High Lords gentle protests. None of that, Love.

You pray to the mother that he doesn’t notice the flush along the tops of your cheeks or the wild fluttering of your heart at the pet name.

“Sit down,” The High Lord gestures simply to the seat across from him by the hearth and his whole demeanor is somehow softer when you deign to look at him again. Wordlessly you comply with his request, a careful hand runs down the length of your robes to smooth out the lazy pleats in the skirt as they fan out around you in the low backed chair and while you don’t dare to meet his eyes directly you can feel him looking at you.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologizes though his voice is distant, despondent even and his eyes find the painting that looms over the hearth. “The portrait-- It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He muses, tipping the rim of his whiskey glass towards the portrait.

“Very beautiful, High Lord.” you agree, smoothing the heavy material of your robes again. He watches you then with a curious glint in his eyes and he takes a few moments to assess you.

“Just Rhysand will do,” He smiles lightly, though there's a sense of apprehension as he regards you playing with the threads of your sleeves for the third time in so many moments, “there’s no need for such formalities when it’s just the two of us.”

“No of course not,” You agree and look at him through thick lashes and offer him a small smile in return, “forgive me, I’m--” you extend a hand to him over the small end table between the arm chairs and he takes it in earnest shaking it lightly. A calloused pad of his thumb rubs an absentminded circle into the skin of your hand before he brings your hand, trembling and slender, to the sulk of his lips and places a chaste kiss against the knuckles.

“I know who you are, Priestess,” he says lightly-- playfully. You offer him a polite laugh in return and nod your head again.

Something dark burns in his eyes in those moments; silver and violet. Like the darkness between the stars. He smiles to himself then, a soft beautiful thing. A secret shared between him and the dying light in the hearth as he picks at an errant threat on the stitching of his shirt.

“Why am I here, Rhysand?” You ask, inhaling deeply, hoping that his answer might assuage the anxiety that has been coiling in your stomach all afternoon. The door to the antechamber opens then and light, golden and radiant spills into the room all at once. The radiant light reveals the room to you fully, you observe the emerald velvet chairs and the dark wood furnishings, the landscapes hung on the walls and the rare manuscripts and novels bound all in black that line the walls.

This house is something truly breathtaking.

It feels like a home you realize.

“There you are!” Morrigan's velvet voice smothers the morose tension in the room as she comes into view. She’s since shed the tiredness that plagued her before and you notice the way her hair frames her face like a halo of gold in the soft ochre light. In her arms, swaddled in sapphire spider silk, is the High Lord’s son.

“We were beginning to wonder where you had gone.” Mor coos at the bundle in her arms as she approaches Rhysand who takes the babe in his strong arms.

As if he could get any more beautiful-- the man looks as though he was carved by The Mother.

It’s wrong, you know. He is your High Lord and you are…

The cursed daughter of a capricious Lord, you remind yourself.

Rhysand glances at me hesitantly and I meet his eyes briefly before focusing on the babe in his arms. He’s since broken loose from the swaddling and his chubby fist clutches at his fathers shirt. I can just see the top of his little head, it's all tufts of curly blue-black hair and pointed pink ears. You smile fondly to yourself as he continues to wriggle in his father’s grasp.

Gods, it’s been so long since you had smiled that wide without the feeling of guilt that usually attends it.

“You used to be a governess, didn’t you?” Mor says by way of explanation for your summons. To her credit her smile never falters even as your demeanor hardens against her, “Clotho said you had talked about it a few times.”

“Yes. I was,” You admit swallowing thickly, your voice comes out strained like the words themselves pain you to speak, “that was a long time ago though.”

That had been long before him.

You must have only been a youngling yourself. You had been happy-- that much you remember. Those were the happy recollections of your old life; summers spent under the opal lights of The Moonstone place, children’s laughter like birdsong that breaks apart in the humid air as you danced and sang long into the nights. Of dark autumns and smoky air, a bonfire and a small hand that holds your own with such gentle reverence.

“Clotho said you wanted to leave the Library?” Rhysand questions you, his eyes are dark and filled with a thinly veiled darkness that draws you into their depths as you speak to him without pretense.

“I do,” You answer him honestly, your voice wavering only a little, “I don’t want to spend my days rotting in the depths of that House.”

Rhysand considers it carefully and his face twists into a pained expression that almost breaks your resolve. You hadn’t meant to hurt him-- never. But you’re done hiding in the dark.

The world is a cruel place and full of cruel men. It always had been and it always will be. There is nought you can do to change that. So why should you cower from the world any longer?

You want to live.

The whining of the restless babe in Rhys’ arms rouses your attention and something akin to longing gathers in your chest as you regard him. You pull a lip between your teeth as he fusses and Rhysand struggles to soothe him. The babe looses a cry that comes out as a pitiful howl and you can feel a small ripple of power permeate the air.

“May I hold him?” The words take everyone in the room by surprise and the High Lord only nods easily and stands to pass the babe into your arms.

“I’m grateful,” You continue as Rhysand stands before you and transfers his son’s weight into the crook of your arm, “To you and your court for providing me, and girls like me with somewhere to heal but--”

“But you weren’t meant to cower in the darkness of the library forever.” Rhysand’s words come out as little more than a whisper and the feeling of his warm breath on your skin is something entirely perverse.

You shake your head, mouthing an inaudible ‘no’ before lowering yourself back into the chair by the hearth, hoping to hide the rosy blush that spreads across your cheeks. Rhys doesn’t retreat back into his armchair like you had thought he might and instead sinks to his knees before you and allows one of his son's fists to wrap around his ring finger. The babe seems to quieten then in your arms as he nuzzles against your chest, one balled first clinging to his father and the other pulling at the neckline of your robes and he smiles sleepily in your arms.

Looking at him now you are overcome with the realization of the absence that had stained this family’s happiness. Rhysand had given himself completely to a woman who had changed her mind. And their son-- their son; all cherub cheeked and big blue eyes framed with dark lashes-- had been abandoned by the woman who was supposed to love him without condition. Before the ghost of her had been an abstract thing. Something intangible and errant, a whisper or a memory, but now, as you look between the babe in your arms and the woman immortalized about the hearth you feel nothing but biting fury. A dangerous wrath only tempered by the stilling of the High Lord beside you.

It is Morrigan’s movement at the side of the room that rouses you from thought. “Then perhaps we can come to an arrangement?” The smile that graces her lips is brilliant and calculating and the sparkle in those umber eyes tells you she is genuine in his intentions.

“An arrangement?” You ask hesitantly, raising one arched brow to her.

“Yes.” The High Lord nods in agreement as Morrigan approaches you all casually, sauntering over to snatch a glass of wine from the decanter, “you’re free to leave the Library at any time but--”

“Help me take care of Nyx,” The High Lord beats you to it, his voice is soft and gentle and one of his fingers runs along the curve of Nyx’s ear as he begins to doze in your arms.

“High Lor-” You start, and you’re torn between declining outright and trying to dissuade them altogether, “Mor, I haven’t cared for a babe in well over 60 years.”

“Listen to me,” Rhysand’s violet gaze is unyielding and when you can no longer avert his gaze he takes on of your hands in his own and all but pleads with you, “take care of Nyx, for one year-- just until I get used to doing it on my own-- just until he starts his pre-schooling.”

The thought of him raising his son all alone pains you, a physical, bone deep ache that settles over you. You mourn for him then, for the love he thought he had, for all that he lost and then you mourn for the babe in your arms. For the son who will grow up without knowing his mother’s love. The High Lord looks at you through dark lashes and you note the tiredness in his eyes and the desperate sadness that seems to radiate from him these days and yet, he smile softly at you. As one might smile at something lovely and precious.

“And in return?” You ask peering down at him with sympathetic eyes when his whole body goes lax.

“I’ll help you get set up somewhere-- anywhere you want.” The words come quickly and if you were a cruel woman you would see what more he would offer you. But when he’s looking at you like you might just be his last hope you can’t find it in you to do anything but allow yourself to be persuaded by him.

You see a home; a cottage maybe, made of ancient stone and covered with climing ivy and jasmine. On the outskirts of Velaris, away from the artisans and market stalls of the main square, but close enough that you never feel truly alone. A home and it smells of mandarin and moonflowers, the sound of children laughing, and a garden blooming with violets in the garden in the leonine yellow heat of high summer. You smile wistfully and you swear you feel the gentle caress of a hand in your mind's eye.

“You can live here with us in the meantime” Rhysand continues gesturing to the house around you.

It’s warm and inviting and your body sings in response to the prospect.

“I don’t think that's a good--”

“Just until you find somewhere of your own.” He assures you standing to his full height before you. He casts a morose glance to the portrait that hangs about the hearth and you can see the moment his violet eyes meet painted cerulean.

“Rhys--” You warn gently.

“Please,” He turns to you again and the desperation in his tone has you yielding to him further, a gentle sweep over your face before settling on the sleeping babe in your arms, “please.” He repeats it once more and you swear your heart breaks just a little bit for him.

He had saved you once, you think. You had only been a girl then but you remember looking at him in that light; he looked like the shadow of some dark winged God-- avenging and angelic.

Perhaps this time the girl can save the God.

“A bargain then.” You muse lightly holding out a pinky finger to him.

Rhysand huffs out a laugh and curls his finger around your own. Nyx’s hand seems to flex in response, his own tiny pinky finger outstretched in agreement.

“A bargain.” With the simple confirmation you feel the gentle burn of a promise as it kisses its way up your wrist, and you see Rhysand’s own inky sigil as it glows faintly on the skin of his outstretched arm.

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhys x you #rhys x y/n #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand acotar #rhysand imagine #rhys acotar #rhys fanfic #rhysand headcanons

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donatellawritings · 3 months

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cherry - around your neck - r. jerimovich

pairing(s): richie jerimovich x f!reader

warning(s): language, age-gap, explicit sexual content

song: the party & the after party by the weeknd

24 hours. Twenty-four hours remained until you’d stand face-to-face with the older blue-eyed man who’d come to plague your every thought, in recent times. Twenty-four hours, so close, yet so dauntingly far. Seated directly before the mirror your worn chipped-paint coated vanity, you drank yourself in. Dressed in the thin, black mesh fabric of your nightgown, you carefully examined yourself for any outstanding flaws. The concealer that once sat comfortably under your eyes now faded and live-in, courtesy of the mentally and physically taxing classes you’d endured hours prior.

Your eyes were a bit smudged from your generous application of mascara, you’d decided your staple eyeliner wasn’t needed today. Your faded and worn brown and mauve lips adding a much needed flush to your lips as you forced a closed-mouthed smile at your reflection. Your deep-red painted acrylic nails combed through your hair, adding a smidge of volume as you tilted your head, posing in the mirror, once more. Were you desirable enough? You’d just hoped that Richie would think so.

I mean, fuck, clearly you were desirable enough if he’d asked to expect a video-call from him, so close to your first official meeting date. The palm of your right hand carefully pressed against the knuckles of your left, popping the knuckles and granting you the slightest bit of relief from your anxiety-ridden nerves. Why did he want to see you? Did he want to put an end to your tryst, before it even got a chance to begin? What did Richie Jerimovich want from you that he needed to see you at this very moment?

Opening your sticker-covered laptop, you waited. Watching the reflection of yourself, through your webcam, you adjusted the hem of your nightgown to sit comfortably against your breasts, pushing them up just a bit.

Now biting into the your acrylic-reinforced thumb nail, your foot tapped against the cold carpet of your bedroom floor. Scraping your teeth against your nail, you stared at the screen of your laptop, hopelessly.

The chime of Richie’ video call request shocked you, your posture straightening as you rushed to accept the call, exhaling a breath with a smile as the call connected, revealing sight of Richie, his eyes blown and bloodshot.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

Truth be told, Richie couldn’t find it himself to wait any longer. The past three days had been eating him alive, the impatience and anticipation that came with seeing you, touching you, becoming all too powerful against his already shaky sense of willpower. You were intoxicating, a way more addicting and raw being that was stronger than any of the substances he’d previously conducted dealings with. He could only come up with so many scenarios of you, in his mind to get himself off in the dark and tense hours of the night. So, he gave into temptation, gave into himself.

Richie could tell that you were nervous, shit, he shared the same sentiment, if not more. Asking to see you a day earlier than planned, out of the blue, he could only imagine the worst things that you could say to him. yet, the sight of your skin clashing against the confines of the thin mesh fabric, your breasts perked up just right, made it that much harder for Richie’s patience to take hold. He didn’t care where you two would go, or what time it was, he needed you, and sooner rather than later.

“Thank you, Richie,” you smiled softly, licking over the leftover mauve that stained your lips.

The two of you sat in silence for a beat. The sight of your chest rising and falling with a shaky breath becoming too much for Richie - he was too far gone.

“Richie is everything oka-”

“I need to you see now, I just, I can’t fuckin’ wait until tomorrow,” Richie blurted out, running his hand over his grown out bear, shaking his head with a smile.

You remained silent, biting down into the swell of your bottom lip with a short and breathy laugh.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re just makin’ it real fuckin’ hard for me, looking like that,” he continued, slightly adjusting the tie that laid around his neck, the glint of his gold chain peeking through from underneath his white button-up shirt.

Richie’s nerves began to run rampant as he aimlessly rambled, “I get it if you want to wait, you deserve to have the fanciest dinner of your fuckin’ life, but I need to see you, baby, so fuckin’ bad-”

“I don’t want to wait, either.” You spoke faintly, leaning your face to sit in the palm of your head.

Fuck. Richie was so fucked.

A subtle ache that hummed between your legs made its way through you. Knowing that Richie held the same virtue of desire eased your initial anxiousness, the two of you were teetering on a dangerously thin line and you both knew it.

Richie swallowed thickly, “Give me twenty minutes,” he spoke, his raspy voice now holding a heavier tone, “twenty minutes and I’m all yours.”

You shifted in your seat, tightly crossing your left leg over the other with an obedient nod, “all yours,” you repeated.

Richie abruptly ended the call, leaving you a nervous wreck as you sat in silence, the sound of the mild rain that hit your window, failing to calm your buzzing veins that struck you with adrenaline.

You took one last look at yourself in the mirror, debating on whether or not you should touch up your makeup, the farthest part of your subconscious telling you that you may not need to. Something about Richie’s demeanor excited you, he was domineering, yet this time he seemed feverish, almost needy?

You could barely speak yourself, lord knows how much you craved Richie, to the point where the thought of finally having him was nearly enough to bring you to your knees.

Throwing your head back, you let out a sigh, a smile laced with excitement and shock pulling at your lips as you struggled to come to terms with the fact that you were only minutes away from finally indulging in the baby blue-eyed older man. A laugh escaped your throat as you ran your fingers through your hair, before pulling your head up straight.

Standing up from the vanity, you quickly scanned your bedroom or any sign of mess. Why are you so nervous, it’s not like this is your first time being a with a guy, let alone having one at your apartment, but a 45 year old man who you met online - that was a first for you.

You made your way to the living room, turning your television on to a random channel, before heading to your kitchen cabinet, where you sifted through, until you’d found two wine glasses - did Richie even like wine? Setting the two glasses on your kitchen counter, you snatched your refrigerator door open, reaching for the cheap bottle of Moscato that you’d gotten for yourself for special occasions, like this very night.

Slamming the refrigerator door shut, you hastily reached inside of your freezing, grabbing the ice tray and cracking it, allowing a few cubes to all into each wine glass, before sliding the half-used ice tray back into the freezer. Placing the wine bottle next to beside the two ice-filled wine glasses, you took a breath.

The abrupt shrill of your ringtone broke you from your brief moment of stillness. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Coming!” You shouted, to no one in particular, your heart racing as you rushed to your bedroom.

Snatching your phone from your bed, you accepted the call, bringing your phone to your ear, “sorry, I was just fixing up some stuff,” you answered, swallowing the lump of nerves that had formed in your throat.

The sound of a car door closing could be heard on the other end of the phone, “S’okay, I’m downstairs - shit, uh, what apartment are you stayin’ at?” Richie questioned.

It took everything in you not to take a peek at him from your bedroom window, “Oh, yeah, I’m in 4E.”

“Alright, give me two minutes, sweetheart,” Richie cooed.

“Bye, Richie,” you ended the call, scanning over your appearance in the mirror of your vanity, “fuck,” you muttered under your breath.

Richie stood in the dimmed elevator, his leg bouncing as the elevator beeped with each passing floor. He was so close to you, he could taste it at the tip of his tongue. He kept his hands inside of the pockets of his leather jacket, exhaling sharply as the elevator door opened, allowing him to enter the Fourth Floor hallway.

“Fuckin’ aye,” he laughed to himself, shaking his head in disbelief as he approached the door with ‘4E’ imprinted in gold.

Sliding his right hand out of his jacket pocket, Richie brought his knuckles to the heavy door, knocking rhythmically against it. Richie silently cursed himself out as he waited at the door, his head hung low. The sound of you unlocking the door caused Richie to straighten and broaden his shoulders.

Richie’s eyes fell on yours the moment you opened the door. That fucking dress - god, Richie couldn’t even think straight as the two of you stood in silence. His eyes drank you in, he couldn't help but want to study everything about you - you were much shorter than him, so much so, that he wanted nothing more than to have you against the wall with your legs wrapped around him. He could tell that you’d just spruced up your hair with those sleek red nails, he wondered what they’d feel like digging into his back and shoulder blades. He wanted nothing more than your lips on his, seeing the way you’d lick over them, leaving him a needy and greedy mess.

Man, you were such a fuckin’ tease. Of course, you’d decided to keep that nightgown on, Richie tried to remain a man of manners and respect, keeping his eyes trained on yours, instead of on your hand that smoothed itself against the curve of your hip.

”Y’gonna let me in, sweetheart?”

You were completely entranced by the man who stood before you. He was tall, oh so tall, and you loved the way his oversized leather jacket clashed against his unbuttoned dress shirt and slacks. You allowed his bright baby blues to selfishly drink you in for a beat, before stepping aside, “come in,” you spoke softly.

Your eyes fluttered closed for a quick second as you shut your front door, taking a small breath before turning to face Richie, whose eyes scanned your apartment.

“You got a nice place here, yeah?”

“Uh, yeah, thank you,” you forced out a laugh as Richie’s eyes landed on yours, before motioning towards the kitchen, “would you like some wine?”

Richie shrugged off his jacket, neatly placing it on the arm of the couch as he licked at the corner of his mouth, with a nod, “Thank you, beautiful - y’need me to open it or?”

“If you don’t mind,” you accepted, your stomach turning in excitement as Richie approached you, sliding his warm hand across the side of your waist as he made his way into the kitchen.

Richie grabbed ahold on the wine bottle, gripping it by its neck as you leaned your back against the kitchen counter, “Y’like white wine?” He questioned, pretending to be engrossed in the cheap bottle.

“Red gives me headaches,” you spoke.

“Depends on the type you get.” Richie quipped, not missing how your hand gripped the edge of the counter.

Richie was slowly drifting off into the deep end - the tension-thick air becoming too much as he stood before you, huffing out a breath as he reached over you to open the refrigerator, sliding the bottle inside, before pushing the door closed.

Now face-to-face with you, Richie keeps his eyes directly on yours, “Tell me, where’s your head at, sweetheart,” he questioned, the tips of your noses ghosting against each other as you shrugged.

“Can-can I touch you?” You asked, your voice coming out as a whisper as you lifted your head, inching your lips closer to his.

“I’m yours, I already told you that, baby.”

And Richie meant every single word.

You nodded, “then can you touch me?”

Richie nodded, bringing his hands to your waist, smoothing his hands against your skin, before lifting you onto the counter, allowing his hands to cup your face, “tell me if it’s too much and I’ll stop, I fuckin’ swear I’ll stop, baby,” he spoke, his raspy voice needy and hoarse as his eyes search yours for any signs of displeasure.

With that, Richie’s warm lips were on yours, the kiss warm, wet, and hungry as you both moaned into it. Richie’s scent of musky cologne and faint cigarette smoke sent you into a daze, a whimper sneaking past your lips as Richie’s tongue slid against yours. The rough hair of Richie’s beard deliciously scratched at your lips as he adjusted himself, deepening the kiss even further, pushing you farther back onto the counter, any further and Richie would be climbing onto the counter himself.

A gasp left the two of you’s lips as you both caught your breath before you hooked your leg around Richie’s slim waist, pulling him in closer with a throaty moan. Richie’s calloused hand slightly tightened around your throat as he groaned into your mouth, the sensation of your nails accidentally scratching at the side of his neck becoming all too good to him.

Without breaking the kiss, Richie hiked your other leg around his waist, swiftly wrapping his free arm around you as he pulled you into his chest, carrying you over to your dining table.

Richie pulls away from you, feeling a faint pang in his chest as you pouted, “I know, baby, just lay back for me, I need to fuckin’ taste you,” he pleaded, pulling you in for one more quick kiss, before you laid back against the cold glass surface of the table.

A short gasp left your lips as your back arched, the frigid glass singing your skin through the thin mesh of your nightgown, “fuck,” you muttered.

Richie’s hands were quick to lift the hem of your nightgown, allowing the mesh to bunch up at your waist as he tapped your legs, silently beckoning you to spread them as you complied.

“Fuck, so fuckin’ pretty,” He smiled, pulling you closer to the edge of the table, before lowering his head between your thighs and pressing a wet kiss to your panty-covered pussy.

Richie presses another kiss to you, before sliding your underwear down your legs and allowing them to fall to the floor, a groan leaving his lips as he raised one of your legs to rest over his shoulder, kissing your inner thigh with open-mouthed kisses before making his way back down to your aching pussy.

Pressing his tongue flat against your wetness, Richie took a long and greedy lick up your folds, repeating this a couple more times, before sticking his warm and taut tongue inside of you.

“Fuck, Richie,” you breathed out, trying to grab at the completely smooth glass surface of the table as he stuck his tongue inside of you once, more, pushing himself deeper with a moan.

Richie had you right where he wanted you. And fuck, eating you out his new favorite hobby.

Richie was disgustingly greedy with you, the mixture of your slick wetness and his saliva coating his beard as he slurped away at your pulsing clit, your hoarse moans like music to his ears as he continued to lap away at you, the hand that held your leg over his shoulder now moving towards your core.

“Keep going, please, don’t st-”

Your whines fade into a gasp as Richie slides his index finger into you, the squelch of his finger enclosed in your walls sending you into a frenzy as Richie pulls his glistening face away from between your legs. Your mouth is hung open as Richie begins to thrust his finger at an agonizingly slow pace.

Taking in the wet sound of your pussy taking in his finger, Richie leans over you, his free hand now gripping your throat as he leans his forehead against yours, “M’gonna put another one in baby, just keep - fuck, just keep those pretty fuckin’ eyes on me, okay?” Richie speaks, his voice deliciously low as you nod feverishly, your nails scratching at the table.

“I-It feels so good, Richie, fuck,” you cried, your hoarse voice struggling against Richie’s grip on your throat.

Nevertheless, you did what you were told. You kept your eyes on Richie’s as he pulled his finger out of you, quickly re-entering you with both his index fingers as he pushed them all the way inside of you.

“Oh, fuck, you’re doing so fuckin’ good, baby,” Richie moaned, watching closely as you fought to keep your eyes on his.

Richie’s fingers quickened their pace inside of you, the lewd sounds of how wet you were, coupled with the ferocity of his skilled fingers leaving Richie wanting nothing more than to make you cum.

“Richie, I-I’m gon-”

“I know, baby, I know, I got you,” Richie cooed, maintaining the quick and hard pace of his fingers as he sloppily kissed you, keeping his forehead against yours as your eyelids became dangerously heavy.

“I’m so fucking close - so fucking close,” you moaned, your vision growing hazy as Richie hummed.

“You’re so fuckin’ close, I can feel it, baby.”

Richie’s hand moved from around your throat, to cradle the back of your head, forcing your to keep your focus on him as he curved his fingers inside of you, hitting that deliciously sweet spot, over and over again, until you let out a throaty cry. Richie quickly kissed you, his finger working you through your orgasm as you cried into his mouth.

Richie slowed his fingers to a gradual stop, allowing you to ride out your orgasm against his hand as you came down from your high. Your breaths were choppy and uneven as you tried to regain your composure.

Your pupils were blown, eyes wild as Richie took in your post-orgasmic appearance, so he decided he'd test the waters, bringing his/lips to your ear, “open,” he commanded, a burst of pride sweeping inside of his chest as he watched you close your swollen lips around his fingers.

You sucked softly, your strained eyes never leaving Richie’s as you gently pulled his now dry fingers out of your compliant mouth.

Richie couldn't wait to fully have his way with you, hell, in this moment even he knew that you had him wrapped around your finger. You did so good for him.

The two of you sat in silence, after Richie carried you to your bedroom, Richie standing between your legs, leaning over you as you pecked his lips, “You can stay the night, if you want,” you offered sweetly.

Richie was all yours and he understood that, one-hundred percent. How could he say no to those eyes, those same eyes that soaked his in as you came to a climax, how could he say no to you?

“Y’want me to stay?” He prodded.

You smiled, kissing the pendant of his gold chain that hung in front of you, “I want you to stay.”

Richie groaned, gently grabbing your chin between his thumb and index finger, “alright, then you got me, baby,” he agreed, pressing his lips to your forehead, softly cradling the back of your head.

You weren’t sure what this would mean for your relationship, moving forward. Hell, Richie wasn’t even sure what this meant, but he knew that he wanted you, every part of you, he’d just hoped that you wanted all of him too.

i hope you all enjoyed part three - now things are going to finally get fun <3

#richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear #richie jerimovich fanfic #richie jerimovich imagine #richie jerimovich smut #the bear fic #the bear imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto

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crowcravesmore · 25 days

Text

At First Sight (Homelander Drabble)

(aka: Knock em' off his feet) Homelander x F!Reader (18+)

+ His first time seeing you. Actually, he's seen you in his peripheral a handful of times. This? This is when he gets a good, long, look at you. He's a little stuck to say the least.

Words: 657 (Short & sweet, I just couldn't help making a point.)

A/N: Oh how I LOVE down bad man. You can't watch the show and not know that whoever has his affection HAS him. This is my first fic on this blog, I've written a lot before, deleted my blog, and came back, Maybe this will bring me back in, who knows. (Ask box open).

Warnings: Cursing, Homelander craving you, a little too wanting.

+ + +

Homelander likes you. No, listen, Homelander likes you. These days he’s so brazen with it, and you can hardly walk into the same room as him without buzzing under his stare. However, I wanna start it off a little slow at least. He started it off slow at least. Kind of.

It’s your third week in when he takes a good look at you. A rushed mission brief is called and Ashley, idiot, decides now is the time to try out a new presentation method. Handouts. She’s so fucking proud of herself when she steps to the front of the room and says, “I want to ensure everyone has a thorough analysis of the plan, as well as some facts about the landscape that I think—“

Oh please, he’s so close to asking her if she was shaken as an infant when he notices you. Supe by supe you walk around, placing a sheet of paper in front of everyone, & God the sight of you. You know how hard it is for someone to catch him off guard? You do it instantly, unknowingly, unabashedly. Honestly, it’s your eyes – wait – your lips. He can’t stop looking at your lips. Then you smile at The Deep and he has to sit back in his seat a little bit, scooch down, and lean over, chin in hand just to get a good look at you. You’re just about to reach Noir when Ashley musters up the gumption to ask, “Homelander, how would you feel about starlight leading this mission while you stay as backup?”

He’s almost too slow to take his eyes off you, but he does & laughs incredulously at Ashley. “Why would I do that?”

She actually quick steps towards him, hand extended holding a sheet of paper, & places it in front of him before you can make it. “We’re working to establish your image with our female audience, ages 25 through 45, as a softer protector.” She says softer with a wince, like she can hear how fucked it sounds. He’s annoyed, and has to deep breathe his way out of showing it. What the fuck is he reading? It's a mess of statistics and a – quite honestly –l ameass excuse for a game plan that he’s happy to pass on to StarLight. Ashley finishes with “Currently you’re doing amazing with our male audience, but we’d like to shift towards a team player, lover of women image.”

He’s a lover. Through and through, and sometimes hard to find. It’s there though, eventually you’ll get it.

You walk behind him, and reach beside him to place a sheet down in front of Queen Mauve. You smell good. He tilts his head just enough to catch a sight of you without being too honest about it. You’re a sight. You know that? It’s enough to make his eyes drag down your body, stopping at your ass and then making a slow track down your legs. He’s a dog about it, and internally says fuck it, because then his eyes are back up and locked on yours.

He hears your heart jump a little, but you’re a pro, because you just smile it off —fuck, you’re beautiful — and say “Good morning.” Before walking away.

Fuck off, ‘Good morning’ , he’s salivating.

“Good morning” he says kindly.

He hasn’t been this turned on, this quickly in a long time. For a human at that? You’re a new feeling, one he can’t even tell if he’s comfortable with. So he’s gotta lock his eyes back on Ashley and pretend like he isn’t gonna think about you later. “Yeah, absolutely –” He waves his hand, & smiles, “– let’s show some girl power, huh?”

One last glance at you, and you’re looking right at him. He doesn’t even hide his stares this time. His dick jumps a little at the fact that you don’t look away, and he makes a mental note to get your name after this.

+++

A/N: *Screams in wanting him*

#the boys #Homelander #The boys fic #homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #homelander x you #the boys series #the boys tv #Kash Writes #fanfic

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oishiyani · 1 month

Text

🦐 ; Bigger Hints

warnings ; implied yandere behavior, contains nsfw, stalking, dark explicit content, gore(?) well slightly, NOT proof read (im sorry)😿, fem reader

wc ; 2,241

might make a few more bunch of these with the others in mind 😸!

maybe taking on the offer of the one and only fyodor dostoevsky wasn't such a bad idea at first. taking on the job to be an undercover spy for him, your job was to only spy on the list of people he gave to you. atsushi, dazai, blah blah blah.. a whole bunch of random people you don't even know from before. well not until now that you're already trying to pinpoint their whereabouts.

and in return, you get money. that's right- money.

you liked money, with it's own multiple purposes- to buy new clothes, food, accessories, some new shoes.. oh how it was such a dream for you to achieve those. i mean, the job was to only spy on them, don't act suspicious.. and don't get caught, those were the last thoughts before you accepted the job, signed the contract you were offered from fyodor.

fyodor.. was a strange and quite gave off an unsettling vibe for you. from his outfit dressed oddly to his dark mauve colored eyes gazing at you as you try to drink your tea in peace while you two were in the same room. why'd he have to look at you like that?! it was making the atmosphere quite a bit awkward so you shifted your gaze somewhere else quickly after meeting sight with him.

focus on something else... oh the music! yes, yes, y/n. just listen to the music and enjoy your food, don't look at fyodor for god's sake!

it had been already more than a few times of exchanging stares from each other between you and fyodor, you had to ask yourself why does he have to look at you so often? not like something's wrong with what you're wearing right? or maybe there was something on your face?

you assumed that fyodor has an interest in orchestra music. he would always play them while you two were doing nothing, his eyes closed as he listened to the tune while you sat there or while resting. you weren't allowed to bring your phone in fyodor's base. it was forbidden but you don't dare to ask why.

"soo.. how long have you been listening to orchestra music, fyodor?" you asked in hopes to lessen the unhandy feeling. starting a conversation to expect a reply when he did the opposite. now that made you felt quite embarrassed- or maybe he didn't hear you through the sound of the music running in the background?

great, now you just wanna bury yourself under the dirt.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

as days passed, fyodor's behavior made quite a curve.. rather than usual.

now, starting a conversation with him was the least likely thing you wanted to take action on. thinking that he was the person who didn't like to be disturbed after the 'awkward' event that happened a few days ago. but now was different.

he was getting quite getting verbal with you, besides the conversation of your report on the strange men you spied- fyodor started making side comments after your reports. it would sometimes be questions of what else did you do besides spying? or what did you eat today? or, did you take a bath?

then to be surprised to feel a vibration from your pocket after finishing your break in fyodor's base. receiving an unknown number through your phone. the message stating 'this is fyodor.'

now that felt the slight goosebumps on your skin. how'd he even get your number? you don't remember giving out your number to anyone these past few weeks.

you shrugged it off, telling your self it was no big deal. being familiar with fyodor didn't set you off, although you still wonder how'd he get your number from the start.

the next day you asked fyodor on how'd he get your number, to be only answered by silence and another music piece of orchestra playing in the background, was he avoiding your question- or did he not hear it again?

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

the next few days again, you receive such special and luxurious gifts outside your doorstep from an unknown sender. they would vary, to sets of bouquets, expensive chocolates, high quality essentials, and branded clothes and bags. and a gigantic fluffy teddy bear.

of course you were really shocked. at first, you thought that the sender might be sending a bunch of these gifts to the wrong person or the wrong address. but unfortunately the gifts didn't give any clue who was sending it, not even a note or an initial somewhere. truthfully you wanted to return it out of guilt, feeling that you don't deserve much of these- still thinking this must be for another person but mistaken you for that person. yet you still kept them, stacking it around the empty spaced corner you had in your dorm.

you're making money out of this job you have, you can get all of those one day if you finally start a career and become successful one day using the saved up cash you get from your job.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

on the last day of your contract, which stated that you only needed to do this for a month. unexpectingly your relationship between fyodor had become more.. closer?

fyodor started to question more about your personal life, your family, past history, relationships, your friends, experiences that you found funny. he listened while you kept talking. and one time, you swore that you heard him mumble, but you were in the middle of talking as you were pouring the kettle filled with tea onto your empty tea cup.

sitting on the fancy looking sofa, fyodor who's roots are surprisingly removed from his chair he usually sat on- instead, he sat near the single fancy looking chair just beside the long sofa you were sitting on.

"i'd love to hear your voice forever."

"sorry, i didn't hear what you said! what were you saying again?" you spoke as your hurried to place the kettle back to its old position.

to his reply, "oh- nothing, you can continue."

you blinked for a moment, "alright, so-" continuing what you were saying without a single curiosity on what he previously said. you assumed maybe it was just the wind? well that was funny for a wind to sound like fyodor that time. but once again, the poor oblivious y/n was going about to dive in the danger zone.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

"n-ngh.. ah-" fyodor hissed under his shortened breath, huffing as he watching from the desktop in front of him as his hand was moving up and down furiously around his cock from the displayed footage in his desktop.

a live footage of you, completely naked after your shower. it was such a delightful image to see in his eyes, your body wet, the way the water droplets drooped on your skin, your pair of tits who fyodor was craving to fondle.

god, it was making him so crazy. watching you dress up in a sexy looking dress- it was even the dress fyodor sent you. your bare ass faced in front of the camera made his action fasten- he bit his lips, his hand pumping his throbbing cock till he reached to his climax. making his cum stain on the screen of his desktop.

fyodor gulped the lump on his throat, calming his breathing when you were almost finished with dressing up yourself- you were grabbing a pair of heels then a doorbell suddenly rang on your door. it was 8pm, now who could that be? "coming!" you shouted, grabbing the purse that was on your bed.

fyodor watched you wear those pair of heels in a haste, you tried to run after wearing them- yet still being careful not to trip. he continued to watch you out of curiosity on who was on your doorstep in the middle of the night. unfortunately for him, the creek to your room showed a silhouette of you and another person who was taller than you, had quite a large figure, and was a man, he thought.

the built-in camera inside the teddy bear he sent you recorded the conversation coming through the hallway, both of you and the man's voices echoing loud enough for the camera to reach the volume. to fyodor's reaction, it really was the worse that y/n can imagine.

"are you ready for our date?" the voice of a man spoke

"mhm, didn't expect you to get here at the exact time we talked about!" your voice replied.

something inside fyodor was burning intensely, his heart felt a painful ache he couldn't prevent- his hands balled into a fist while his eyes glared at the screen after hearing what he just heard. a date? with this man he never knew of? how ridiculous.

he thought that you were getting the hints he was giving, although to you- it barely even got into your mind that he was into you by showing the sudden curve of behavior.

he had to make a bigger hint on who you only belong to.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

the contract ended with fyodor, you were now a cashier for a bakery- still saving up money for the career you want to pursue.

everything was as normal as usual, a day where you work, go home, eat, sleep. then to wake up to your new fiance cooking you a good smelling breakfast in the morning. you met your partner by just stumbling upon him by the street, spilling coffee on you that stained what you were wearing, offered to pay and treat you to a restaurant- he insisted alot so you couldn't help but agree, then that's where all the talking started.

he was a night shift worker who worked as an engineer. while you worked from afternoon to around the evening.

then suddenly, every important people in your life, disappear one by one.

receiving an email of a photo of your fiance caught kissing another woman in a club- heartbroken then went to seek comfort through your friends, but they refused to be in contact with you, you didn't know why!

you were in the lowest point of your life.. you seek your family, calling your mom- hoping that she'd pick up but to misfortune hitting you, you only got a message that says they're not available. for after 30+ calls every hour?!

you don't know what's happening.. you ask yourself what is happening? you were confused, so confused. you lied there on your bed for who knows how many days you were sobbing with red puffy eyes surrounded with tissues all over the place.

curled up into a ball, you were fired from your job for being absent for weeks without any reason. now that just made it worse for you- the feeling of being back to zero, now who were you to turn to now?

'fyodor..' wait, that's right.. fyodor! maybe you could take his job again, in hopes to get progress through life being rough on the road.

you sat up from your bed, feeling a bit of back pain from lying for too long. you stood up and quickly grabbed a jacket and wearing it- there you took the route you were once familiar with. to the way to get to the man fyodor's place.

finally arriving to his place which was located in a forest, you walked up to the door and gathered the courage to knock. just knock y/n.. just like before, like you always did.. fyodor knows you right?

with a silent moment, you knocked 3 times. then a few seconds passed you overthinked that maybe he doesn't live here anymore. or maybe he wasn't hear- or maybe he just didn't want to answer the door-

the sound of the doorknob turned, you were startled but your body felt nervous for seeing a person you haven't seen for a while.

and there you met eyes again with the man, one and only- fyodor. he still looked the same as ever from the last time you saw him, he greeted you with a smile as he looked down at you.

"fyodor! i-"

you were cut off by fyodor's sudden offering of a small box with a ribbon wrapped on it.

"what's this..?" you asked.

"oh, open it so you can find out." fyodor replied.

you took the small box out of the palm of his hands, with one pull of the strand of the ribbon untied it. you opened the lid of the box.

a flash of horror and disgust was on your face, immediately recognizing what was inside.. it was the finger of your fiance.. the finger where he wore the matching rings he gave you when he proposed to you.

"what the fuck!" you dropped the box out of shock, you looked at fyodor with your legs feeling weak as they tremble- your breath started to shake. you felt stunned. paralyzed.

fyodor smiling at you, how did he get that in the first place..? you had so much questions running your mind, they continue and continue.. and continue till your nose was covered with a cloth.

your vision blurred, you felt your consciousness fading. what was happening? were you dying? you finally collapsed, being caught in fyodor's arms as he gazed at you the way he gazed you from the beginning.

fyodor's arms wrapped around your unconscious body, pulling you close to kiss your forehead. a smile of victory.

"you're mine.. all mine my little мышь"

#bsd x reader #bsd x y/n #bsd x you #yandere fyodor x reader #fyodor x reader #doa x reader #decay of angels x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere fyodor #yandere fyodor x y/n #yandere fyodor x you #bungo stray dogs imagine #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd #yandere bsd x reader

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bluejutdae · 2 months

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Stray Kids as colors | OT8

Chan

Royal Blue - strong and royal, it was once associated with the elite and represented power. Might look like a cold color, but it’s comforting and protective.

Minho

Sage Green - symbolizes growth, calmness and connection to the nature. Has warm tones and it pairs well.

Changbin

Forest Green - deep and intense. A color often describes as "homey feeling". Dark at first sight, it contains multiple shades.

Hyunjin

Mauve- elegant and graceful. In the 19th century was associated with luxury. Ranges from delicate to strong, without ever losing balance between red and blue, which mixed together give us mauve.

Jisung

Crimson - always linked to strong emotions. Represents boldness, passion, creativity and strength. Pairs well with both cold and warm colors, dark or light. The example of a versatile color…

Felix

Golden Yellow - vibrant and positive. It's the color of the sunshine. Warm and light, just like Felix.

Seungmin

Peach - natural and fresh. Signifies kindness and sweetness. Often underestimated, is often recommended by designers for bedrooms, because it helps to have a good sleep. In Chinese culture represents immortality.

Jeongin

Azure - Dreamy and calming. represents dreams, imaginations and the vastness of the sky. In psychology is considered having the ability to help meditation and relaxation.

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rainswept · 8 days

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counting backwards — throwing muses. 0.8k words.

Fog has found a comfortable residence nestled in Aventurine’s brain—a bustling one, strangling clear thoughts and fond reminiscence and expertly avoiding those gnawing memories he wished it would swallow.

He looks into the mirror, he shows his teeth. He hopes, to others, it looks like a smile and not a snarl—though, to him, he still looks afraid, and he swears he can still see the yellowing he had earned after so long of not being able to care for them (despite how the gold of his wealth had cancelled it out long ago and chased it off).

It was voracious, clamoring like a starved man, armed with an achingly empty stomach at all times; it was nimble, and it trembled whenever he did—with hunger, sickness, the cold, or fear, he didn’t know, it was a toss up—skin melded to bone. Yet, as much as it ate at his clairvoyance, it didn’t grow—it just… lingered, in the corner of his cluttered head, emaciated and shaking. It stared at him. It had his eyes, and the same blond hair.

He keeps practicing. He wants his expression to be bright like a future that is looking up, like the sun during the first glimpse of it after rain, and infectious—but it was bright like a warning sign, like the sun beating down on an arid and drought-stricken desert, and diseased. That wouldn’t do. His sight was bleary, and his hair was a mess, and he fell asleep in last night’s clothes; nothing about him screamed refined or expensive or high quality or worth anything at all.

It felt fearful, in a way, but it cared for its host just as the weather outside did. Maybe even less. It rained for Kakavasha, but this? This didn’t change for a thing. All it did was fast forward the time on the clock. All it did was steal from him, little by little, thread by thread, coin by coin, unraveling, rusting, wasting. But that was fine. He had money and memories to give now. He had the means to feed both himself and it. He was generous—he always was, but now he could truly afford to be without sacrifice.

For as long and well as he had played the role of carefully crafted, embellished with gold and beholding bones of wrought iron, every rotting rope making him up was one rainstorm away from snapping.

Speaking of Kakavasha, he didn’t remember much of him. All that lingered was the fear, because as much as he washed the blood—his kin, his kills—off of himself, that little frayed part of him, wide-eyed and with no more tears to cry, remained playing dead under its current.

He combs out any tangles sleep had imparted in the strands of his hair. He washes it out—the scent of the soap doesn’t take long to leave him with a headache, so he rinses and replaces it with equally migraine-inducing conditioner. He combs through it until he no longer looks unkempt or unwell.

That fog is still here. He should remind himself to grab his keys, just in case.

He hooks his finger in the corner of his mouth, pulls it back a bit further to check for any plaque or pieces of food left on his molars. There is none. He keeps looking. He straightens out his clothes, stares and bores holes into every last crevice that could hide a tell. He stares and stares. He remembers a time when he had no reflection, only sand and kin, only a guess at what he looked like. That was long ago.

In the mirror, when he still only saw himself in the faces of his family, mauve hair fell, and her voice still echoes: “What’s worth more to you, Kakavasha—the life in your veins, or the gaze you share with those incinerated bodies?”

What is more important to you, Kakavasha, the blood that keeps your heart that deserves nothing but death beating, or the blood that makes you Avgin, that ties you by something indisputable to the only thing you ever learned how to cherish?

That was what she meant. It was a stupid question.

He fixes his shirt one last time. He grabs his keys.

He knew how to answer, then, and he still does now, because he would drain his arteries of every last drop if it meant seeing them unpainted with theirs again—for the color to return to their faces, the life to their dull eyes—

He closes the door behind him with a soft click.

But that can’t happen. So he will continue to dress his wounds, cut his losses, and survive, until he inevitably joins them.

(He will never join them. They are dust, scattered in fragments across space. He will be buried in a lavish coffin.)

#rainswept #aventurine #hsr aventurine #hsr #honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #<- idk i guess #not really but it can be seen as an add on to the series… so whatever

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dabislittlemouse · 9 months

Note

𝔅,

Congrats on the follower milestone, you devilish genius. If you still have slots…

“If y’keep undressing me with those eyes… I’ll catch a cold.” // SMUG, FLIRTY BASTARD DABI

Ahhhhzjsjs I can’t wait to see what your beautiful mind conjures~

- heiny

“𝐈𝐟 𝐲’𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬…𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝”

Dabi x Reader smut- MDNI +18

contains: seeing Dabi for the first time at ReDestro’s big event, Dabi being a flirty bastard, thick tension in the air, thrill and new feelings blooming, cunnilingus, possessive Dabi. Mentions of long hair since I tried to make it specific for Heiny

A/N: HELLO- posting this today as a little birthday gift for yew🥳 and it turned out a full fic :3 Everybody come wish Heinous a happy birthday or I’ll come for your throat 😡

Enjoy your dance with Dabi~

The invitation letter to ReDestro’s big event found itself in your hands that day. The PLF had organised this event to celebrate a new beginning, the League of Villains that had supposedly taken charge and became one with ReDestro’s army. To celebrate for their future success and goals, to become one, united and indestructible, so it would be a pleasure for you to join as well on this glorious event, the invitation said.

You were kind of cautious about everything at first; you were familiar with the League of Villains and their doings, though the sudden dedication and admiration ReDestro had towards them, to the point of lending them all his power and people, made you feel skeptical.

But let’s give it a chance. There had to be a reason why ReDestro saw them as fit and trustworthy allies.

Though what you did not expect was to find yourself trapped and captivated by them as well, or to be more specific by him.

The dress you wore was striking, kissing your body so well, the crimson color having everyone’s eyes glued on you. Your hair curled up, falling down your shoulders, red lipstick on your plump lips and smokey eyeliner to bring out the sharpness of your eyes, it was all you needed for you to radiate nothing but magnificence as you walked on the stairs of the big fancy mansion.

The ballroom was undoubtedly huge and glowing, already crowded with people, filled with nothing but cheering, laughing and talking. There were citizens, villains and powerful people; all invited to celebrate one singular cause. Eyes were peering at you as you headed inside, the tap of your heels and your fragrance making heads turn. The waiter approached you and you took a glass of champagne, smiling at the strangers and being friendly. You didn’t do well on crowds, especially when you barely knew anyone, anxiety would already fill you from the inside. The invitation could’ve easily been declined but something inside of you was urging you to go.

Not after too long ReDestro decided to give a speech, along with the new leader, Shigaraki Tomura by his side. It was followed by loud cheering and applauses, everyone already seemed devoted to Shigaraki, accepting him as their new supreme leader. The lieutenants came afterwards on stage, you recognised some of them, the little blood-obsessed girl, with a big cheerful smile on her face, the gecko, the magician…

Your gaze was stuck on the raven haired man, who you immediately recognised. His mauve burn scars painting half of his face and hands, decorated with metallic piercings all over, as his eyes lingered around the ballroom. You knew the pyromaniac named Dabi, and heard of his doings. You’ve heard that he was a cold-blooded murderer, a rude, arrogant and merciless villain that burned down towns and people. Not someone you’d want to cross paths with.

And here he was, in front of you, and the mere sight of him gave you chills down your spine. He stood tall, radiating confidence, power, his presence was enough to make anyone quiver. Dabi was wearing a dark blue, lavish looking suit, the tie almost loosened, holding a cigar on his hand. Attractive was an understatement when it came to him. ReDestro’s speech was inaudible in your ears as your brain turned mush, your eyes glued to the man, not realising you were biting your lower lip too.

Your breath hitched the moment his eyes locked with yours. You thought he’d avert his gaze and ignore you, but no. He was staring right back at you, his eyes taking in all your sight, from head to toe, his face expressionless but those eyes..

Fuck, even from this far you could feel that piercing gaze burning you from the inside out entirely. Dabi licked his lips in anticipation, a slight smirk gracing his face, not breaking eye contact with you. You swallowed hard, immediately averting your gaze somewhere else, heat creeping up your face.

God, what even was that..

As the speech was over, the celebration began, everyone took their drinks, some started dancing, swaying with the music, some enjoying the finger food. Though you noticed Dabi was approaching you the moment he came down from that stage. Slow, almost predatory steps.

Oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck he’s coming my way…

You tried to keep yourself calm, but your breath hitched as he came to you up close. He was taller, looming over you, his strong cologne mixed with smoke intoxicated your senses and his gaze was too much to handle. Not knowing what to say, you gave him an awkward smile while he took a puff from the cigar.

“If y’keep undressing me with those eyes, I’ll catch a cold..” he said with a teasing tone in his raspy voice, making you flush in embarrassment. Damn, he was a flirt wasn’t he? You could feel your heartbeats getting faster, but your face expression remained neutral.

“I’m sorry about that” you replied back, taking a sip from your drink while giving him a sultry look. Usually, eyes were all that it took to seduce men and make them obsessed. And your eyes were your strongest weapon. “I’d offer you a… warm up, in case that happened. But I’m sure your quirk is enough for that”

His smile grew wider, more wicked, while he thought of all the meanings this warm up could have. You felt like crawling away and hiding into the furthest corner. One more word from him, one more look, and you’d turn into a puddle on the floor. He came closer, eyes focused on your cleavage, decorated with a diamond necklace.

“Never seen ya around here, dollface. You new?”

The nickname made your voice almost come out quivering. “Y-Yeah pretty much. I’m not a villain or a hero but.. just an acquaintance. I hadn’t been in touch with ReDestro for a long time though”

“Ah”

After that, the both of you stayed silent, it felt kind of awkward at first while he continued smoking.

“Y’wanna try?” he asked, handing you the cigar. You immediately shook your head.

“No thank you, I don’t smoke”

“You afraid of hurting those pretty lungs of yours or somethin’?” he said and before you could even comprehend, his eyes were looming over your half exposed chest. The blush on your cheeks didn’t go unnoticed as he let out a chuckle.

“Relax will ya? You gettin’ heated up already..”

“I am relaxed” you snapped, your eyes looking around the crowd, anywhere but him.

“You didn’t come here with anyone. A pretty thing like you, and you don’t have a man?” Dabi asked, and you watched his finger reaching to twirl some of your hair.

“No man. Surprised? Why is it a necessity for a pretty girl to have a man?” you frowned, this time staring right back at him. Though your tough facade was easily broken whenever you locked eyes with his.

“Didn’t say that. Was kinda hoping in fact that you didn’t have one” Dabi smirked as you bit your lip nervously. “Would be a shame if I turned them to ashes”

Your eyes widened at the continuation of that sentence, blinking twice and processing what you just heard.

“Huh?!”

“What?” He a wrapped hand around your waist. It felt warm and sent tingles on your body. “Is it wrong for me to want someone I feel very…captivated by? Y’know dollface, nothing, and I mean nothing, can grab my attention that easily. It’s hard to please a man like me”

Whether you knew or not, Dabi was already captivated the moment he landed his eyes on you, it’s like those eyes of yours lured him into a trap that he could not get himself easily out of. Just the way he lured you in too. And here the both of you were, tension thick in the air.

“..wait. So you’ve taken an interest in me? And if I had a man, you’d burn him to ashes, that’s what you’re saying?” you mumbled, gathering the pieces together. “That’s vile!”

“Atta girl. You’re so clever, aren’t you? ” Dabi chuckled and you rolled your eyes. He licked his lower lip, wanting to make those eyes of yours roll more from other reasons.

“I’ve always been vile, baby. I got a reputation out there, that’s brought me where I am now” he grabbed your hand, pulling you in for a dance as you both walked to the center.

“And in this world you gotta be merciless and vile to get what you want”

He didn’t even have to ask you appropriately if you wanted to dance or not, you were now swaying with him to the music, his hand on your back as yours were on his shoulders. Your face was mere inches away from his, the others around you had to stop and stare. Dabi was not known to associate with people often, let alone dancing. So everyone’s heads now were filled with questions as to who you were, and how weren’t you afraid of being this close to Dabi out of all people?

“So you think you can make me yours? Very bold of you. And you barely even know me” you smirked. The audacity of this man.

“Think? Nah doll, I will make you mine” he whispered in your ear as your breath hitched. “And I’ll have plenty of time to get to know every single part of yours”

Someone who’d be looking at the both of you from far away, would think that you two were kissing. That’s how close he was to you.

“Y-You’re too close..” you stuttered, but the expression in your face was almost blissful. As if his heat made you totally drunk on him.

“Too close huh.. is that bad?” he pressed his lips on your cheek, your body pressed hard against his, you could almost feel his toned body through his clothes. And something else.

“You don’t like me being close to you? It makes your heart feel all fluttery?“ he chuckles “Does it make you feel some type of way, maybe? What type of way would that be, sugar bun~”

You let out a gasp, your belly swarming with butterflies. “Y-Yeah..I feel kind of dizzy, um sorry I just- I think I need some fresh air.

You backed away from Dabi and headed out of the ballroom, leaving the dance in half. Though this did not discourage him, you could already feel his heavy steps coming from behind you. You inhaled a sharp breath, your face sweating and your heart pounding out of your chest.

The long corridor was empty and gloomy. Only your heavy breathing and his steps from behind you could be heard, along with the faint noises of the party.

“Where you goin’ huh?” he laughed, his voice echoing in the corridor. “I can’t let the newbie wander around freely around here now can I? That’s not what a good lieutenant would do. Especially when there are different kinds of villains wandering around here as well, who knows what they’d do when seeing a pretty thing like you all alone..” he says, grabbing you by the waist again and pulling you towards him. The look in his eyes is dark and twisted, almost possessive, as if he found the rarest gem in the world and no way he’ll let anyone else get it. He took in your scent, burying his head on your neck and letting out a soft moan.

“A-As if you’re different from them..” you snapped back, trying your best to not let any whimper come out of your throat.

“Ah.. You wound me with your words doll, I could never be like them” Dabi stared at you, a scarred hand wrapping gently around your delicate throat. “I’m worse”

Without a warning his lips crashed against yours, roughly and possessively you could barely call it a kiss. His tongue slid on your lower lip before entering inside, almost making you choke on that feverish sloppy kiss. He let out a low groan that made your whole body vibrate, his breathing and grunts as he devoured your mouth sent you to pure bliss, to the point you whimpered and moaned on his mouth too. His hand grabbed a handful of your ass, squeezing it as he slammed you against the wall.

“You like that don’t you huh..” he whispered between kisses, and all you could do is hum in response, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Mm yeah?” he hummed back. “I’ll make you fall f’me. Completely”

He backed away from the kiss, leaving you there fucked out and panting before going down on his knees. One of your legs was thrown on his shoulder before he lifted your dress. You were in pure bliss to even protest, your body needed this so you just let it happen. The thrill and danger this man’s eyes promised you, you wanted to taste it all.

“Wanna see you try” you responded, wanting to provoke him further. He smiled mischievously as he roughly tore off your laced panties.

“Hey! Those were pretty!” you cried out.

“Don’t worry baby, Dabi’s gonna get new ones for ya, alright?” he kissed your inner thigh and going further, leaving a trace of kisses and small bite marks behind.

“If you’ll be my girl, I’ll burn everything down to the ground and get you whatever you want..”

And with that, his tongue lapped on your cunt, sweet ambrosia making his eyes roll as he savoured you. You let out a high pitched moan, your hand covering your mouth.

“God, your taste..” he hummed, circling his tongue around your clit and down to your folds agonisingly slow. “Weeping for me sweetheart, aren’t you?”

“Mmhmmm” you nodded, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Good. I will make this pussy cry for me”

He placed his mouth against your cunt, his tongue sliding deep inside of you, then sliding out to lick and suck on your puffy clit. The wanton sounds you let out were music to his ears, encouraging him even more.

“Mmmhh that’s it princess, grind on it, just like that” he whispered as you continued to move your hips, riding and grinding his tongue, your head falling back in pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so pretty, so fuckin’ sweet”

He plunged two fingers deep in your cunt, curling and scissoring them while his tongue continued to lap your clit.

“Dabi!! S’too much!” you whined but he didn’t stop. The knot forming in your stomach was ready to snap anytime soon.

“Yeah? C’mon I know you can do it” he teased, his chuckle against your cunt sending vibrations through your body. His gaze never leaving yours as he admired you above him. “Cum for me, baby”

Your moans got louder, not even caring if someone would walk by to see you two like this. His groans got louder too as he sloppily made love with your pussy, his stitched muscle not letting a single part unlicked.

“Dabi.. M’gonna… gonna cum!” you called out.

“Yes, baby. Do it. Be a good girl and cum for Dabi”

That’s all it took for you to reach your high, cumming all over his tongue and fingers while your legs shaked violently. It felt like your soul almost left your body as he continued to lick you, moaning at your sweet taste.

“That’s it.. shit, so good” he growled, eagerly slurping all the juice dripping down your thigh before pulling away with a loud ‘pop’ and a satisfied expression on his face. As if he just ate the most delicious meal in the world.

Dabi stood up, admiring your blissful expression, your eyes unfocused and legs still shaking. He made a mess of you, and he loved it.

His hand grabbed yours, placing it on his hardened bulge that made your heart skip a beat.

“I think it’s time we continue our dance, doll” he said smugly, kissing your lips and making you taste yourself. “We gonna dance together all night long.. and we won’t stop. Until I make sure you’re completely mine”

Tags: @mostlyheinous @shadowsandshapes @daniidil @mossy-opal @doumadono @highbats69 @spltbtch @bubblegumsblog @awalkingshame @dabislittlebeaniebaby @holydayaria @arinexeisnotworking @dabihawksluva @syrenkitsune @sukunas-bitxh @cherrykisssess

#2k milestone event #Heiny 💎#happy birthday to you <33 #dabi #touya todoroki #mha dabi #dabi x reader #x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #dabi smut #tw: smoking #tw: drinking #x reader fanfiction

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obscenely-overdue · 2 months

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[OOC] Weighted Pregnant Belly Instructions

Hi everyone! For those interested, I've jerry-rigged a method to pad/simulate/wear-a-fake-pregnant-tummy-for-kink-purposes with some real weight and firmness to it that I think people would like! It works very well for me but is also functionally a prototype/first pass at the idea, so there are certainly areas that it could be improved. (which is me saying "experiment and improve upon this, we can make it better!")

I'll preface this with the fact that, if you pay full price for everything involved, assuming you have NONE of it to start, it's probably about $120. That said, about $20-25 of that comes from a specific kind of pillow and blanket, which you very well may have, which would bring it realistically down to $100, and some of it is stuff which can be bought on sale pretty easily, which would land you in the neighborhood of $80. Again, it isn't cheap, but it has something not even a fancy Roanyer tummy has:

WEIGHT and BULK

It's also made of inconspicuous or otherwise easily hidden items, so if you have roommates or family who could see this stuff, it's great at being tucked away or hiding in plain sight. If you're curious, I have pictures, a shopping list, and step by step instructions, as well as some further tips and info. It's pretty long so I'm putting it under a cut...

Let's get started!

What you'll need:

One piece of fully body shapewear (the mauve one on top) and one piece of "tummy tuck" shapewear (black on the bottom). The full body one is about 2 sizes too big for what it's meant to do normally (so for me, an XXXL. This is the same shapewear I use for my squishmallow tummy for RP blog pictures), and the tummy tuck one is the "correct" size for my body (XL). The tummy tuck one gives you all the support, so you don't want it too oversized. DON'T GO UNDERSIZED EITHER as what we're going to load this up with is gonna cause some compression, and too much pressure on your abdomen can be harmful. When in doubt, go at your size or maybe one size bigger, but no farther. Both of these run $20-30 a piece at a target but also can be found on sale for $10-20. Target is going to charge you more than Walmart, and it doesn't have to be top of the line.

One soft, round pillow. This is like a $6 pick up from Walmart. It's not just soft from it's fabric, but it's specifically not firm to the touch. It's all give and is very malleable. Technically you could use a regular pillow too, but this being roughly disk shaped helps it do its job as basically the "lower belly" that keeps the weight from shifting too low.

An averaged sized blanket. Softer materials that fold and bunch up easier are preferred. You PROBABLY already have something that will work for this, but if you don't, again, Walmart will charge you like $15-20 for one.

And finally...

A 20 lbs kettlebell. This BASTARD is the single most expensive thing you'll need, and unfortunately is required if you want it to be properly heavy. This one came from Target, and ran me $55. You might think you want to go heavier, but trust me, this thing has all the heft you'll need. If you really want to, you could feasibly go for a 25 lbs. one, but those are even more expensive. The kettlebell shape is important because it's mostly round, unlike a dumbbell, so we can wrap it up and use it for a reasonably pregnant-shaped belly. A dumbbell of this weight might be a little cheaper, but if you're already going to drop $40 on an oddly shaped weight, another $15 so it can fit the tummy shape is worth it.

Putting it on:

[DISCLAIMER: If at any point something HURTS while putting this thing on or while wearing it, safely but quickly remove it. The weight is supposed to be cumbersome and a little uncomfortable for the fantasy of it, but if anything HURTS, something is wrong, and you need to take it off. If you lay on your back with this thing on for too long, get ready for ab muscle aches, possibly the next day, as your tummy will be supporting 20 lbs of external weight just pressing on it, and those muscles don't get used unless you work out. I've never worn this thing overnight to sleep, but I don't advise it, as extended period of compression can be harmful. Same logic as to why AFAB people who don't want visible boobs shouldn't bind for too long.]

Start by putting on the fully body shapewear, and then putting the tummy tuck shapewear over that. The fabric under my shapewear here is my sports bra, which isn't part of the belly process.

Next you're going to load the soft, round pillow into the full body shapewear. It's going to kind of fold in on itself and that's not an issue, if anything it gives a nice little landing zone for the next thing we're going to add.

Don't fight trying to get the pillow under the tummy tuck shapewear, right now just roll it down to your waistline under the pillow bulk like so.

Next you'll take your blanket, lay it out, set the kettlebell inside of it, and wrap/bunch it up. You want it something approximating 'round', making sure the kettlebell isn't going to roll/fall out when you pick it up.

Next, you load the wrapped up bastard in, setting it on top of the pillow. The kettlebell is going to shift, and try to sink deeper, that's fine, just maneuver it so it sits on the pillow, allowing the pillow to spread the weight more evenly.

Before you pull up the tummy tuck shapewear, it's going to look like this, notice how the bottom of it is lighter because that's all pillow, with the blanket over top.

Now comes of trickiest/most strenuous part, you gotta pull out the tummy tuck shapewear and get it out and around the bulk of your "tummy". You'll have an easier time if you pull the back part up a little first, so it's not fighting you, which you can see in the above photos. If anything starts to hurt during this process, stop and take it out, because likely something is too tight or too heavy.

Once the tummy tuck shapewear is pulled all the way up, it should look about like this, and you're loaded up and ready to waddle!

Notice how much more contained it all is? It's not spilling off of me anymore, it's firmly held against me. Now, just top with your favorite maternity shirt!

Or don't!

Now, clearly, it doesn't LOOK very pregnant. It's lumpy and awkward and it'll come out downright lopsided your first few times. But this isn't for taking pictures for an RP blog, this is for simulating something close to the feeling of carrying something heavy like a pregnant belly around. For those of us who can't or don't want to actually get pregnant, this is a decent approximate that's reasonable to buy and easily hidden. This is for nights after everyone else is in bed or you're home alone, and it can be a LOT of fun.

Great, now what do I do with it?

This is the end of the instructions and is more just ideas for some fantasy fulfillment. Feel free to drop your own ideas in replies or reblogs!

So something that sets this belly apart from just a pillow, or bunched up clothes under your shirt, is that it's very firm, and independently held against you. A pillow under your shirt is dependent on the shirt for structure. If you lift the shirt, pillow falls off. That is not the case here, so suddenly, you've unlocked the ability to put on too small clothes, or button ups, or robes, whatever, that's too small for you now, and can fuss and mess with it without affecting the stability of the belly. You can wear pants that don't button or simply bunch up under that heavy, firm underbelly. Hell, you can simulate getting dressed with a 20 lbs mass hanging off of you. Put on socks around this thing, it's the stuff of preg kink dreams!

Getting up and down, laying in bed and rolling over, the shit that's easy to do now, takes a LOT more effort all of the sudden. Again, I urge you not to lay flat on your back too much, because I did that while padding before bed, and woke up with some muscle aches centered on my tummy, in muscles that I hadn't used in god knows how long. Don't over exert yourself with this thing. I'm bringing this up a lot because I don't want anyone getting hurt.

Taking the stairs is nuts. Going up is way more effort, and going down feels almost hazardous as you wont have vision of your feet anymore.

If you're into the domesticity of pregnancy, try doing some household chores with this thing on! Loading a dishwasher, doing some laundry, maybe some tidying. I personally have found it weirdly exhilarating, waddling around loading the washing machine around this heavy bulk. Have fun bending over to pick up something you dropped!

Even just chilling and gaming with a lap full of heavy belly feels kind of new and exciting. When you're not used to it, even the mundane shit gets hotter with a tummy like this

That's about all I got. If someone else gets everything and tries this out, let me know your experiences with it and how you've improved it! I've had an ask suggest a weighted medicine ball, so that could also work if you have one you're willing to test out. Please enjoy, and share with your pregnancy loving mutuals! Thanks for reading!!!

#fake pregnant belly #ooc #weighted belly instructions

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seraphdreams · 2 years

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FOREVER. | RAN HAITANI.

ღ SYNOPSIS. you’d do just about anything to please your husband, especially on his birthday.

ღ CONTAINS. fem!reader, husband!ran, bonten!au, praise, slight alcohol mention, love-making, ran being pussydrunk/pussywhipped, slight breeding, daddy kink, pet names of “doll” and “princess”, cockwarming, and some fluff :(. 18+ mdni.

ღ WORD COUNT. 2.2k

ღ AUTHOR’S NOTE. THANK YOU @bvnnichuu FOR BETA READING!! where would i be without you? i just wanted to conjure up something cute and simple for my baby daddy’s (belated) birthday🥺 trying to get back into the swing of writing.

listen to the first half of this song, i just think it fits the vibe idk!!

May 26th; Ran’s birthday. You had been preparing for the day for almost a month now, trying to conjure up any piece of information regarding what he wanted as a gift. He's humble—too damn humble. He would always tell you with a smile on his pretty face that he didn’t want anything, that having you is enough. Of course, being as stubborn as you are, you still decided to opt for a present. You wanted him to feel as special as he makes you feel.

It’s currently a few hours past dawn and you’re in nothing but an apron, cooking up a light breakfast for your affectionate husband. You make sure to diligently flip his omelette while keeping an eye on the toaster to ensure that the bread inside doesn’t burn.

“Up early, baby?”

Ran’s raspy morning voice startles you. You assumed he was still sleeping so that you’d be able to wake him up with breakfast in bed. The sounds of sonorous pan-clanging and your sweet humming voice must’ve caused him to awaken. He wraps his lengthy, yet toned, arms around your waist, the feeling of his bare chest creating liminal heat against your bare back.

“Mhm, I wanted to make you some breakfast for your birthday.” You respond, shifting slightly to plate his food. He backs away to place a kiss on your cheek while murmuring “thank you,” into your ear as his eyes scan the ceramic plate filled with food. “All this for me?”

Of course it was, you always treated your husband like he was some sort of heavenless angel, despite his gruesome way of making income. It didn’t matter as long as he treated you amorously, he could do just about anything and you’d still love him.

A soft “mhm” reverberates from your throat as you move to the dining room to set his things down. “I tried not to make too much because we have reservations later tonight and—Oh!” You shuffle quickly to the coffee maker, turning it on and placing a mug under it. “I almost forgot your coffee, Ran. That's what you get for distracting me.” He chuckles at your quiet hmph.

It was so cute how much you doted on him, you were always like that, and it felt good to you to have someone to care for, even when he insists he can do it himself.

You were just what he needed; someone who’d love him despite his hardships and remind him that, at the end of the day, he’s still human.

He sits himself down at the table, watching as you make your way to him with his coffee in your hand, made just how he likes it. “C’mere, doll” He pats his thigh and after you put the mug onto the coaster, you settle yourself on his lap, facing him.

Pretty doe-eyes lock onto his downturned lavender ones. “You’re not gonna eat anything, sweetheart?” He queries, to which you shake your head. “Already ate.”

The hand rested on your waist nestles between your thighs, his nimble fingers carding through your folds while his thumb takes purchase on your clit, slowly circling. “T-thought you were gonna eat?” You rasp, trying not to give into the pleasure just yet. “I am, baby; need t’get you all wet to cockwarm me.” The fingers by your heat quickly make their way under the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down enough so that his rigid length springs free. Every time he’d whip his cock out, you’d get immense butterflies in your stomach at just the sight. He was so long with the perfect thickness and a crown that gleamed mauve, you practically drool at the sight.

You move your hands to his shoulders for leverage as you hover above his cock. He sets both his large hands at your hips and pushes you down, letting out a hiss once the warmth of your taut pussy engulfs him.

The rest of the morning is spent against his chest, hearing his heartbeat as he eats while trying to remain still in his lap. Every so often, he’d bounce your hips up once or twice to tease you, he found palpable joy in watching you get needy for him.

The morning sun dissipates into a brighter, warmer luminescence as the afternoon hits. After breakfast, you both decided to sleep in a bit until it was time to get ready for dinner. As much as Ran hated to admit, he was extremely high maintenance. He’d always been meticulous about his appearance which caused him to take almost as long as you to get dressed. He made sure his earrings matched his cufflinks, his suit was pressed and tailored accordingly and not a hair was out of place. That’s what you loved about him; he always looked like money, and smelled fucking rich.

“Princess,” He calls, fiddling with the fabric around his neck. You were caught up in applying your mascara but through the mirror you could make out his silhouette. “My tie?”

He’s more than capable of doing it himself, he does it plenty of times for work but it was something about the way you’d tie his tie that made his heart swell, you looked so cute all focused.

No time was wasted when you went up to him, taking the fabric from his hands and pulling him down to match your height more accurately. While you loop the tie and tighten it, you find it hard to take your mind off the fact that the man that dawned over you was so very fine — beyond the word attractive, and the scent of his signature Yves Saint Laurent cologne wafting through the air only made you dizzier.

“‘m all done.” You say meekly, dusting your manicured fingers over his broad shoulders to get rid of any impurities. A chaste kiss is pressed to your lips as he mumbles out, “Thank you, baby.”

After 15 minutes of adding the final touches to your looks, it was finally time to get on the road. you had paid his personal chauffeur to make the commute from your Roppongi apartment to a restaurant deep within the heart of Shinjuku, possibly an establishment already owned by Bonten.

Dinner went exceptionally well. You had reserved a private room for the two of you and were treated to all sorts of dishes and expensive wines. It was relieving to finally find a day where Ran wasn’t busy with work or handling other business, it seemed even luckier that that day was also his birthday which made the plans you had set for him play out smoothly.

“Happy Birthday, Ran.” You raise your glass upwards toward him and he clinks his own against yours, a soft, pure smile quirking at his features. “I appreciate it, sweetheart.”

Now at home and in the comfort of your bedroom, you slowly slip off the silk dress that hugged your figure, revealing to Ran who was seated at the edge of the bed, the lilac colored lingerie that seemed suspiciously similar to the set he had once stated he’d love to see you in. A low whistle is sounded from him as he stands up and slowly treads to where you’re located by the vanity. “And just when I thought the night couldn’t get any better. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, princess?”

Heat grows within your core as his hands trail up and down your sides while he simultaneously dips in for a kiss, slotting his tongue between your plump and glossy lips. He deepens the kiss and swirls his tongue around yours, good enough to the point where you don’t notice how he hooks his hands under your knees. Pulling you up to carry you, he lays you down on the bed, hovering over your frame.

You’d been concealing your neediness for the whole day and finally, as his fingers hook under the lace of your panties, you could drop the facade. He slides the undergarment down and off your legs before spreading them and situating himself between your thighs, eyes fixed on the gleam of your slick folds.

“So fuckin’ wet for daddy, hm? Needed me that bad?”

You nod desperately, hole clenching around nothing as his breath fans against it. “Mhm, j-just wanna please you, daddy..”

A smirk pulls at his lips before he’s delving his tongue into your core, fucking it in and out of your fluttering hole. His nose nudges at your clit unintentionally and you can’t help but cry out at the pleasure. “Daddy! too good!”

He picks up his pace, replacing the sensation of his tongue with his nimble fingers, plunging two of them inside you and curling them up against your walls. You place your hands in his hair, slightly tugging on the purple strands as he wraps his lips around the nub of your clit, sucking gently.

With every gentle swipe of his tongue and motion of his fingers, it urges you closer until you physically can’t take it, the build up of the coil within you snapping as you cream over his digits. He pulls his lips away, still fingering you through orgasm. “One more, baby. Give daddy one more.”

You comply, nodding your head and allowing him to ebb on another singe of pleasure for you. The overstimulation causes your thighs to twitch and cunt to clamp down around his dexterous fingers that continuously reach deeper inside your walls, bullying that same spot. Ran uses his thumb to circle at your sensitive clit while he gently kisses the expanse of your inner thighs.

“So pretty, baby. All mine.” His whispers are hushed into the plush fat that safeguarded the haven his fingers were stuffed in. “All yours, daddy. No one e-else’s.”

He smiles at that. The fact that no matter what, you’ll always be his. Even if the thoughts you voice are just mindless babbles of pleasure; To hear that you’re only his creates a torrent within him.

It took no time for your orgasm to build up inside you when he consistently praises you over how well you’re doing for him. Docile hymns of “That’s it, baby” and “You can take it” are bounced off the four walls that made up your bedroom. Your mind is too occupied on the sensation that your orgasm hits you unexpectedly, a slew of pitchy moans being let out in its onslaught.

He slowly removes his fingers from your core, popping the digits into his mouth and moaning at the taste of you. “So fuckin’ sweet, doll.” He leans over to place a kiss to your lips where you taste the saccharinity of your own essence.

Briefly, he pulls away to remove the articles of clothing that confined his hard, leaking length. You watch, only growing needier, as his nimble fingers fumbled with loosening his tie, unbuttoning his shirt and doing away with the pesky belt at his hips. From the fervent look in your eyes, he could tell that you were beyond desperate for him.

He flips you over onto your stomach while stroking his rigid length in one hand before lining himself up with your hole. His body is practically flush against yours, safe for him resting his weight onto his forearms on either side of your body. “R-ran..” You wince, feeling his cock stretch you out slowly as he sheathes himself within you.

You’re tight and extremely warm. Ran couldn’t get over how your pussy always seemed to welcome him in the best way, and with the position you’re both in, it’s only that more enjoyable.

Out. In. Steadily, slowly.

The pace he set was intimate, as if he were savoring the feeling of you wrapped around him. Shallow groans and labored breaths are fanned against your ear when he decides to gradually pick up the pace. You grasp at the pillows beneath you in an attempt to ground yourself, brows furrowing and eyes shut from pleasure.

“I love you, baby. Y’mean the world to me.”

His larger hands rest atop yours, fingers intertwining between your own. His groans slowly morph into soft moans as he slurs and babbles into the crook of your neck, drunkenly.

“..Love you so much.”

“You feel so good.”

“Can’t live, fuck, without you.”

“I need you. I need you so bad.”

“Don’t leave me, please.”

Every vocable he spewed sunk into the next and fueled the ecstasy within you. “N-never gonna leave you, daddy. ‘m yours forever.”

Ran liked that word; forever, because forever never existed to him. Nothing in his life was constant until he met you, the person who kept him going, who encouraged him to be a better man. In a way, you were his forever.

His breath hitches and you can tell from the faltering of his hips that he was close, just as you were. One of his hands shifts from yours to in between your legs, rubbing at your clit. “Cum for daddy, baby. Make a mess.”

And you did just that.

There's a visible translucent white ring at the base of his cock when you finally let go, your moans being muffled into the pillow. He follows suit soon after, coating your insides with his seed.

There’s comfortable silence in the time that it takes for him to untangle from your limbs and flip you over into a new position.

It’s his day, and he’ll take advantage of your gratuitousness. Who knows? He might even breed you until your tiny hole can’t take another load. Pretty sweet gift, right?

reblogs are widely appreciated!

tags - @meena-in-a-nutshell @getougeko @koucaine @imkumichan @messofavs @bekky06 @ack3rlevi @aotdump @denkis-slut @cloudnitee @saffronity @aasouthteranoswife @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @stffychn @carriix @nalyana @yooniluvbot444 @ren-simp @withlovetengen @zuuki @keooooothings @sftbunnyy

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ieatangstforbreakfast · 5 months

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Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ THIS CHAPTER SO LONG 😭

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker @adorefavv @depresssedcowboy

Chapter summary ೃ⁀➷ Aaron’s hesitation sparks suspicion in Miles as he begins to ponder about your real identity. You struggle with the new changes, and you finally meet the new being that’s become a tenant to your body.

FIC MASTERLIST

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Aaron knew you.

Not as Antonne, even. But as [Y/n].

Little, nine-year-old [Y/n].

“You’re to watch over them,” He recalls Mr. Fisk’s words. “Especially the girl— how useful she might be, if she’s anything like her father, that is.“

Aaron grimaces behind his mask, quite on edge with the request to investigate a little girl. As his gauntlet unfolds, Aaron reached out a single hand for the manila folder laid before him, flipping a page. There, he spots the image of a little you, dressed in a mauve dress paired along with a bored expression atop your downcast eyes. You were sitting by yourself in your classroom, your chin resting atop your tiny hand.

That was the first time he caught a glimpse of your name.

[Y/n].

“What if she’s more like her mother, Sir?” He halfheartedly asks, unsure if Fisk would take it as a joke. Wilson drew a long breath from his half-burnt cigar, leaning back into his chair with a lopsided grin.

“Even better.”

And then, he remembers. Remembers the day you first entered his life.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Before you, there was your mother. The woman Rio praised, idolized, adored. He’s watched her gleam too many times at the sight of her simply gliding across the silver screen. Something about her tantalizing allure, or something like that. Aaron, being the guard he was, only witnessed this interaction from afar. He figured to get her autograph right after the mission when he’s maskless and unsuspicious.

Fisk’s wife, Vanessa, gestured the woman to sit next to her. Your mother gracefully accepts the invitation, and upon moving away, it was only then you popped out of nowhere— your mother’s skirt being the curtain that unveiled you.

“You must be [Y/n]!” Vanessa cooed. “My, aren’t you a pretty little girl? Aren’t I right, Richard?”

And there marked your first meeting with the boy. Wilson Fisk’s only son— Richard Fisk. A pale brunet with large black eyes that seemed to follow your every move. The boy inched a little too close when your mother commanded you to sit next to him.

“Your hair is so.. Weird.” Richard piqued as he reached out a clammy hand to pull at one of your strands. “Is it real?—“

One glare from you alone made him retract his approach.

Oh. You weren’t as frail as he first thought.

“Richard, don’t go touching people’s hair. I taught you better than that.” Vanessa scolded of the boy. He sheepishly nodded, easing away from your presence.

It was mostly Wilson’s idea to get Richard close to you under the guise of a playmate— in hopes the two of you would one day grow up to be romantically involved. Though your mother and Vanessa’s meeting initiated the beginning of a close friendship, it only began a bloody game of hot and cold between you and Richard.

But Aaron eventually came to the conclusion that the reason you never spoke to Richard wasn’t because of shyness, rather, like the kind of girl who rightfully prided herself in her surname, you felt superior over this little boy.

And the thing is about children— they weren’t born to hate. They were raised to specifically act that way, and he learned to understand your complexities after working for your father every now and then, and he came to an eventual realization that you weren’t anything all too heartless like your parents.

“Aren’t you thirsty?”

That was the first time you’d spoken to him. It was a hot summer July day, and Aaron had been momentarily left alone by the Fisks to fetch for something. In the midst of the garden, Aaron was stationed by the pavilion to look after you. He’d been a sweating mess in his mask and suit, and your eleven-year-old self seemed to notice it quickly.

“Here,” You handed him a glass of orange juice. “This can freshen you up.”

And even after your offer, he stares vacantly at the gleaming cup, somewhat lost in the heat to acknowledge it. Seeing his hesitation, you grumbled and held his hand up to stuff the glass between his fingers. “I’m not an otherworldly being. You can talk to me normally, you know.”

And in that tone was a desperation for casualty.

“Thank you.” Was his only reply.

And after then, little you started fostering this sort of strange fascination towards him.

“Mr. Prowler!”

Tiny little legs, swift steps. You often greeted him that way, along with a large wave your mother always scolded you for. You endowed a strange sort of liking towards him, even when he was only silent in your presence. It was safe to say you were probably only visiting the Fisks’ just to see him. Aaron never knew the reason why you’d grown to like him so much, but he always assumed it was because of curiosity.

You liked to endlessly babble beside him, talking about the randomest of things. Something about school, or a book you’ve read, or how you wanted to grow up and run the hotel. You were tiny, then. Like a little mouse running around, chasing after him. In a way, you reminded him of Miles. So talkative. So curious about many things.

Every after mission, Aaron accompanied you everywhere, even behind a mask. And strangely, you never really requested him to take it off despite your stubbornness. The more he got involved into your family’s household, the more he came to learn about your personality.

You were a lively kid— talkative, playful, and wild like hell. You were a walking disaster too. Montrell and Antonne often had to watch out for your shenanigans, as you were too unpredictable for anyone to handle.

You liked sneaking into the kitchen before midnight just to steal some sweets, tossing your siblings’ stuff into the private pool, and stealing your mother’s makeup while lying that you didn’t. You were a kid. A little girl, a giggly one at that.

Until you weren’t.

ＲＥＪＥＣＴＥＤ.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

ＲＥＪＥＣＴＥＤ.

"None of them want to accept the damn drive.” Miles mumbled, shoving himself away from the table out of frustration. “Why the hell are they so scared? This will rip apart the election once this gets out. The media would be a shitshow with these!” He places his hands over his face, his icy touch meeting the warmth of his freckled cheeks.

For the last few hours, Miles had taken the day off and had instead been deliberately emailing various networks regarding the obscenities and anti-human practices they’ve found in the warehouse— only to find that each and every network’s rejected the information. Miles had gone as far as to personally email bloggers, journalists, even conspiracy theorists just for the sake of publicizing their crimes, only to meet the same rejection from everyone else he’s ever reached out to.

Behind him was his ever-so-weary Uncle Aaron restlessly pacing back and forth about the room while cleaning the gauntlet with a damp rag. “So long as the oligarchs remain in charge, no one will be brave enough to publish those, Miles.” He mumbles, a sort of dread lingering inside him.

“Ion get it,” Miles sighs. “At least one outlet talking about the damn issue can literally change the world!”

“Fear is a catalyst for many of us.” Aaron sets the gauntlet aside. “The rich control the systems, and they can either starve us or feed us. Hell, they can even kill us. The media outlets are run by people— people with families to feed, to protect. Not many of us can afford to look out for others when we can’t even look out for ourselves.”

“But that’s exactly the reason why nobody ain’t gonna be free.” The boy contends. “All of us are scared— and the rich will continue to take advantage of that until we all learn to stand our ground. If we don’t, they’re going to continue playing God, deciding who lives and who won’t, and until then it’s only up to us.”

“We can’t be heroes to everyone, Miles.”

He nods. “I know,” With a hand over the mouse, he shifts. “We can only be heroes if it benefits the government, but the moment we recognize them as the villains, we’re vigilantes.. But then again, as they say.

No answer will be heard to the question no one asks.”

Aaron gained a sort of pride hearing those words from his nephew, but it didn’t change the fact that Miles was rapidly gaining a thorough understanding of things he shouldn’t actually be involved in at his delicate age of fifteen. He was a child, and no matter how great his mind was, he should’ve been using it on acing science fair projects or starting witty banter with his friends— not to gain justice for his father’s death.

Aaron initially never wanted Miles to enter the world he’s grown absolutely sick of. He wanted to let Miles live in a world away from the mercenary act he had to keep up for the sake of money, but even then, Miles was sucked into it like a black hole.

And he remembers you.

How everything ruined you.

‘Is your sister also a piece of shit like you?’

The way he spoke stemmed from a fit of anger.

What the hell were you doing with Miles? What exactly brought you to interact with his only nephew?

He wanted to know just how much of a monster you’ve become after he left. When Antonne spoke about you being more of a pacifist, he wanted to believe in those words. He wanted to believe you grew up to be a kinder, healthier version of yourself despite the conditions of your family— and when he saw you again in those photos with Miles, looking like every other teenager, he felt… Relieved.

Along with it came a sense of guilt, bearing a sort of news he couldn’t stomach. It sprouted like a vine in his throat, words crawling up his esophagus as he chokes out.

“Your girlfriend, Miles. How’s she been?”

And the tension eases. Miles is suddenly lighter at the mention of you. “It’s our first date tomorrow,” He pridefully bragged. “Trick or treating. She’s gonna be the bubonic plague.”

“.. What?”

“It’s an inside joke.” He grins, leaning back into the chair at the thought of you. “I’m gonna be a plague doctor, and she’s gonna a medieval patient dying of the bubonic plague.”

“What the hell..?” Aaron shook his head in confusion. “Kids these days got too much shit going on in y’all’s heads.”

Miles mulls the headset off his ears. “She’s never done trick-or-treating— I saw it in her eyes, her mama prolly kept talkin’ shit ‘bout the holiday like how my mama talks shit ‘bout Tiya Rosa’s tamales. Like, poison inside the damn food or sum.”

“Yeah, well, that woman’s always..” Always, restricted her daughter.

“Always what?”

“.. Your Tiya Rosa’s tamales got too much spice all the damn time.”

“.. Tiya Rosa, huh?”

And in the height of his emotions, Aaron’s words sparked suspicion in Miles.

The boy then fidgets with the hem of his sleeve, a habit he probably learnt from you. He takes the second to stand up, brushing his dampened hands down the polyester of his jogging pants. “Now, I didn’t skip school just to help you email the press or to hear you ask about [Y/n] like she’s some project I’m working on. I skipped school because you mentioned something about her, and I wanted to know what you meant by her being connected to the Primos.”

Aaron took a sharp, deep breath. “.. Right, that.”

“Do you know her?”

“Not anymore.”

“Wha— How does that even work?”

Aaron gestured Miles to sit next to him, straightening his back with his head held low. The anxiety that lingered in his throat had his foot tapping against the wooden planks. Had him biting the inner of his cheek.

“Before we get to it, can you first tell me how the first two of you met?” Aaron starts. “Full detail. Not a single thing missed. From there, go on about how the two of you happened.”

And it takes Miles back to that rainy night again.

“.. Three months ago, during the Aureum collapse anniversary, one of my friends sent me a link to a secret forum.”

Miles eased his shoulders, laying his head above the cushion as he stared at the ceiling. “There was this group of people, consisted of close relatives of the victims— sisters, wives, husbands— who were planning on vandalizing a mural at the hotel before the day of the annual mourning. I joined the plan, but when we got there, we barely began the work but we were already being apprehended.”

And in vivid remembrance, Miles pictures the entire memory recreating itself from dust right in front of him. He remembers the loud patters of the rain, the loud screams and curses of his fellow vandals. When another officer attempts to near him, he grabs the nearest paint bottle and sprays it directly into his eyes— running off into the distance with heavy steps.

“I got away. As much as I wanted to save everyone, I couldn’t fight all the security there, so I hid somewhere in the garden.”

Gripping the bottle, Miles headed straight into the pastures of the greeneries and flowers, losing himself in the tall maze. He could still hear the angered officers’ yells, warning him to return. With jagged breaths, he makes the choice to take every sharp turn in an attempt to thwart their chase— eventually running into a dead end.

“I really thought I was gonna get arrested that night.”

With a broken sigh, he crouches behind one of the hedges, placing a hand over his mouth to cover his loud heaving.

“.. They never came, though. And I got lost in the damn thing.”

With a blur over his vision, Miles pulls a hand over his brows, coughing at the icy ache that knocked up his lungs. For a while, he grips the red can harder just to prepare himself for any threat— when he suddenly hears the sound of heavy footsteps thundering across the maze. He whips his head, searching for where it all came from.

“But then she got to me.”

And the haze of his exhaustion, a swift figure dressed in black takes him by the hand, running off into the distance. Lost in confusion, Miles lifts the can to attack but his instinct tells him not to, simply running along with the figure. “Are you stupid?” They breathily asked. “You could’ve went anywhere else. You’re going to get yourself arrested!”

At that time, Miles couldn’t tell if you were a frequenter of the hotel or a person with just some really good sense of direction, but you did manage to easily take him out the maze after three wrong turns. With shifting looks, you checked everywhere except his disposition, dragging him like a toy to privacy— which was a smoking area with closed off windows.

“.. Who the fuck are you?” He managed to finally ask after catching up with his breath.

“That’s some language considering I saved your ass.”

“I didn’t need your help.”

“Alright,” You snicker. “Go out and face them yourself, then.” You pointed at the door. “Since you’re so brave and so smart.”

Miles was irked by your sarcastic, upbeat tone. But even then, when he saw your hand shivering, he couldn’t help but ease down his words. “… Don’t go too close to the door, they’ll see you.” As he brought up his hand to touch your shoulder, you turned around and looked at him with wide eyes.

“.. When I saw her, I thought to myself, oh fuck, I am so doomed.”

And how doomed he was. You thought Miles couldn’t see you crying then, but he was so lost with every detail of your face that it felt like he’d known you his whole life.

If only he knew the roles assigned to the both of you in this world.

Miles was no stranger to the world. He struggled to make do along with his mother, and he was a boy of no significant background. He was smart, for sure, and that aided him in his façade as the second Prowler.

He thought you’d be more similar, despite this sort of oddness you endowed. You seemed sheltered, but smart enough to question the cage that harbored you.

The two of you were faced with harsh realities stemming from two sides of a system that oppressed you both. Miles never knew about it: your wealth, but the outcomes of how the system ruined the both of you were so similar. It fooled him into thinking you were just like him.

“But Miles,” Aaron shifts closer. “Did she ask anything about our family?”

Miles stared in confusion. “For what?”

“Anything— about your father, your mother, me. Where you live, what we do. Miles, did you tell her that you’re the Prowler?”

“No! I wouldn’t tell her a damn thing, she could get hurt.” He lied, only thoroughly thinking about the idea as soon as Aaron mentioned it. “But why are you asking me this?”

“.. How far can an excuse go, Miles?.. Tell me, how far are you willing to defend your ideals? Would you pay the price to defend what you’re fighting for?”

“.. I’m willing to pay any price,” Just as Aaron’s about to concede, Miles adds. “For the sake of creating a world where she can paint skies and sunsets in cafes and not run businesses at the age of sixteen.”

“Alright,” Aaron huffs. “Let me tell you something about your girlfriend, Miles.”

Screech.

You grimaced at the sound of the fork scraping against your plate, taking a while to rest the side of your hand awkwardly beside the tableware. You take the moment to flit your eyes open, finally able to take your first look at your family meal— with Montrell and your father discussing heartily about his adventures in London, while you, Antonne, and Malachi were left to bask in the conversation in silence.

You felt heavy. Everywhere. Like there was this weight you were shouldering that you couldn’t fathom.

It had your finger wringing against the string of your pearl necklace, had your damp palm digging into the champagne silk of your dress. You didn’t want to be here— not after all that’s happened. Not after Montrell’s taken your job, and definitely not after you’ve disappointed your father.

You felt like choking on your steak, but gruesomely starving at the same time.

“Which brings me to the topic, [Y/n], how have you been?”

Oh, God, you fucking HATED that question.

For a moment, you finally look at Montrell, now you’re able to scrutinize how much he’s changed in the last few years you’ve spent apart. Broad-shouldered, charming— princely, as most would claim. A sort of doe-like endowment in his eyes, unlike yours and Antonne’s, which were unreasonably fiery in the way you’d both stare.

“I’ve been alright,” You began. “Haven’t been much busy these days, just working on school projects and all of those things.” You could sense your father’s growing indifference to your statement, bearing the knowledge that you’ve been running the hotel for almost half a decade. Montrell similarly notices the family’s shared looks of restlessness and tension, but is unable to understand why the air’s transitioned into something so dim.

“I heard you’re performing tango next week for the fundraiser.“ He tries to strike up a brighter topic, to which you blandly smile and nod. “Yes. I’ve been.. Practicing a lot. Since it’s to fund Senator Barlowe’s project, I can’t leave room for any mistakes.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Montrell smiled. “I bet you’ll do great. Good luck.”

Internally, you admitted that optimism only sounded believable if it came from Miles’ mouth.

“Thank you.” You take a sip off of your water. “I might as well have to say the same thing to you, with all your upcoming responsibilities.”

Your father angrily sets his utensils down with a small bam. “[Y/n].” He calls out like a warning. You lift the brim off your lips, marking the glass with your lipstick. “What? I’m being polite.” You watch as he scowled at your reply. “… Has no one told him yet?”

“Told me what?” Montrell piqued, bringing a spoon up to his mouth but never feeding on the meal.

Immediately, the bomb slips your tongue with a boom despite the way Antonne cleared his throat.

“You’re going to be running the hotel.”

“[Y/n]!”

“What?” You answered with a heightened voice, but it wasn’t loud enough to be considered a yell. “With how much you were rushing the process, I thought you’d have told him by now.”

“It’s an unofficial decision that we haven’t discussed with the staff yet. Since Antonne’s too busy with other matters in regards to college and other things, we were going to discuss if you could run the hotel in his place.”

Hearing this only urged the confusion to tangle even more.

“Why can’t [Y/n] run the hotel?”

You almost choke on your food.

“[Y/n]’s also considerably intelligent. It’d be nice for her to practice running a business even if it’s just upkeep. She should at least be familiar with the family businesses before she goes overseas to study.”

The idea seemed plausible— had it been an idea that hasn’t happened before.

“.. Are you unable to do it yourself, Mon?” You asked.

He shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I simply think that since my little sister’s also a smart girl, it’d be only fair for her to be given a chance.”

Oh. Montrell cared.

Even in the sort of way that was subtle. It wasn’t like Antonne’s— whose ‘care’ was a rarity to be paraded.

You hated that word. Smart. The term seemed so shallow, even if it was meant to be a compliment. You never saw yourself as smart, or naturally gifted. You studied, a lot, but you never took in the meaning of so many things. You liked to think you were talented in memorization, but even after any exam or challenge, you were often quick to drop the lessons that came along with it.

You were too burdened with academic validation that your grades mattered to you more than the meaning of any lesson.

Were you even learning anymore?

You didn’t know.

Your father placed a hand over his chin, fiddling with the hairs of his beard. “Your sister.. Is too young.”

“I’m sixteen.”

“As I said.”

“You made Antonne run the hotel when he was fifteen!”

“That’s because Antonne’s the heir.”

“Well, who else is going to run the hotel? Malachi?” Your sarcasm was slipping through your teeth so explicitly that you were unable to hide your bitterness. “I mean he is ten-years-old, and dad doesn’t seem all mindful about wagering minors.”

Your little brother shifts uncomfortably. He averts everyone else’s gaze, and you only then admit that you’ve crossed the line mentioning little Malachi.

“[Y/n], you’re being immature.” Antonne finally spoke, with a furrowed brow scribbled across his poor attempt of a calm expression.

Picking up a knife, you begin to saw through your steak. “To be fair, Antonne, there are many things sixteen-year-old me can’t do. Like being mature,” As you cut a piece, you snicker. “Or running a hotel.”

“Can you just— stop it?” Antonne huffs. “You’re being unreasonably upset. As father says, you’re too young. If you’ve already forgotten, my age was the reason why many lives were lost.”

“Sure, and your current age is the reason why you’ve accepted responsibility over those deaths.”

“STOP IT!”

The table shakes upon the bellow of your father’s voice. And in the fire of his anger, you stood without another word, and the scrape of your chair against the floor marked the beginning of your defiance. As you pulled the napkin off your lap, you folded the damn thing and placed it beside the plate.

With the click of your heels, you head for the exit when you suddenly hear your father mumble.

“Tsk. So emotional.”

And this struck something inside you. For a moment, you pause, and a bold voice echoed inside your mind.

And it only made you angrier. Shooting a glare at him, you announced.

“I’m your fucking daughter, not your wife, not your maid— your fucking daughter. and all I ever did my whole life was slave and respect you and submit to your every word. And all I get is you fucking glaring at me like that! Why are you fucking looking at me like that when I’ve done everything to appease you?

All I wanted was an ‘I’m proud of you, [Y/n]’ or a ‘You’re doing great, [Y/n]’, ‘You deserve a break because you’re overworking yourself, [Y/n]’— NO! I can’t rest, I can’t live like I’m sixteen because you put all of us up on a pedestal because you can’t be a father. And you,” You pointed at Antonne.

“You’re such a fucking waste, you’re such a fucking waste of talent, of heart, and mind. What could’ve been a lesson for you became a lesson for me. If you could’ve just said ‘I’m sorry’, if you could’ve just fucking accepted and– just take responsibility and just give respect to the lives that were— but you didn’t, BECAUSE NONE OF US CAN TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR ANYTHING!”

A still silence.

And you realized, that everything all happened in your mind.

With the last of your dignity, you choked back your words and left. In the back of your mind, something whispered.

「You got a message from Miles♡」

You nearly unhinge the door from a slam. You trudge over to the vanity, gripping over the corners of the table in anger.

It’s unfair.

It was so unfair for you to lose everything you’ve worked so hard for in a span of a week. All of what you prided yourself in: Being better than Antonne, having control over the hotel, being your father’s most trusted aide, and having a sense of control over your own future— it all vanished in a week.

You felt conned. Betrayed. Like you’ve wasted so much of your youth for an unattainable ideal.

You wanted to shatter everything within the room. Wreck all of what’s left of everything. Maybe even burn down the hotel.

ＷＨＹＮＯＴ？

The voice rang.

Your eyes flit open, looking into the mirror in disbelief, only to find a dark being stare right back at you. Grimy, slimy—

ＤＯＮ’ＴＢＥＲＵＤＥ.

A shrill scream exits your lips as you stumble back, falling on your behind as you struggled to get away. You looked at your hands, praying they’d remain as they were— clean, prim, and groomed. It felt like there were bugs crawling up your back. Suddenly, a dark matter carried you back to the vanity, forcing you to look at the creature that was supposed to be your reflection.

It smiled with its sharp teeth.

“Don’t be scared.”

“You’re as commanding as my father, fuck damn it.” You squirmed, quivering in a sort of unadulterated fear you couldn’t understand. “I’m not your father, [Y/n]. Though I don’t think that lowly creature that sat across you in that dining table’s anything deserving of that title.” It spoke in a low, gravel-like voice. “He’s hurt you, little girl. But you hurt yourself the most.”

You ease a little, the same sort of shamelessness you always endowed now kicking back into your senses.

“… You know nothing about me.”

“I know everything about you. I am within the confines of your mind.” A slimy tentacle of black tar creeps out from your back, pulling you closer to the mirror. It eventually creeps up on your face, squeezing your cheeks. “You’re a riot of a girl, but you have your weaknesses. You’re a great planner, but not a great executor. You tend to underestimate the capabilities of those around you because you look up to yourself too much— but at the same time, there is no one within this world who hates you more than you do.

I can fix those broken parts of you. I can help you in ways you’ll forever be grateful for.”

In the middle of his long speech, you frowned. “... Why is your way of talking so refined? I thought you were an alien being, how the hell do you speak English?”

“Would you rather I be sarcastic or truthful?”

“Anything.”

“I’m not Barbie, child.”

You grimaced at the horrible joke. “Truthful, of course.”

“I take hold of your subconscious, so we share the same memories, the same talents, the same thoughts. I know all about the first time you scraped your knee, how you like doing your hair, how you’ve lived, and the first time you met that boy,” It grinned. “Miles Morales.”

“… What of him?”

“It is of my knowledge that he’s your greatest weakness, yes?”

“Would you consider liking a boy a weakness?”

“For someone like you?” You hear it snicker. “Largely.”

It was like you were being tossed from one scrutinizing dinner to another. You pinched the bridge of your nose, turning your head to avoid staring at this questionable creature. Suddenly, one of the tentacles grab your phone, tossing it over to you.

“It doesn’t mean I’m not supportive of your little romance.”

You scrolled through the screen. “It doesn’t matter if you support my romance or not, I decide for myself.”

Miles♡ || Three minutes ago

Hey I’m at spirit halloween rn

do you wanna uh

buy halloween costumes for tomorrow?

“You’re deciding for two now, [Y/n].” The being growled. “Eating for two, acting for two.”

You clicked your tongue and hushed the damn thing. “If someone were to overhear us, they’re going to think I’m pregnant.” You stand up, heading over to unveil one of your windows. You look out into the scarlet afternoon, unlatching the locks as you slid the glass open. The cold wind blew at you like a harsh greeting, making you curse. “.. Fuck, can you morph into like a hoodie or something? I can’t go out dressed like this.”

“I’m an alien being, mademoiselle, not your personal tailor.”

“You presented yourself like you’re the best thing to ever happen in my life, but you can’t even morph into a goddamn jacket?”

“I am— how dare you!”

“.. Guess you got that narcissism from me too, huh?”

“[Y/n]?”

You slammed your window shut upon hearing the voice. A bated sigh ran past your parted lips, your nails marking a scratch over the sill as you took your hands away from the window.

“Montrell.” You greeted him. “… What brings you here?”

Your brother leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed before his chest, head nearly grazing the top rail. “.. Were you talking to someone?”

You take a few steps away from the window. “I was talking to myself. I’m quite imaginative, you see. Sometimes delusion is the solution.”

“I—“ He shook his head in confusion, stifling a short laugh before stepping right inside. “That’s.. Good for you, [Y/n]. But.. Were you just about to jump out the window?”

Your mouth hung open. “Me? Jump out the window? Psh,” You nervously giggled. “I-I was just checking how cold it was outside because I was contemplating on.. Going outside.” You looked at the window and shut the curtains. “Indeed, it’s very cold so I can’t do that.”

You’re a horrible liar.

Shut the fuck up.

The door clicks behind Montrell as he approaches you, gaze lingering on the interior of your room. The place was dim, yet organized in a way. You had kept a lot of your plushies despite the childlike air it kept— those were likely the last toys you’ve ever considered keeping.

“You still kept Miss Lisbon.” He plucked one of the plushies out from the pile, particularly a pink fluffy rabbit with a giant lace ribbon placed on one of its ears. He brings it closer to his nose, earning a whiff of its strawberry-scented perfume, a sign that you’ve been taking care of her rather well. “I got you this when you were eight.”

“Miss Lisbon’s my best friend.” You reach for the fluffy toy, easing it out of his grasps. “I can’t possibly let her go, not when she knows about every war crime I’ve committed.”

“Miss Lisbon’s a great listener, which was why I gave her to you.”

The silence that followed made you uneasy. You wanted to talk and fill in the room with nonsensical talk of whatever, but you could tell even Montrell’s struggling to speak. When you do managed to finally part your lips, the both of you coincidentally began at the same time, which led to him excusing himself so you can speak first— to which you ushered him to speak first, and so on and so forth.

But it was after that awkward moment that you’ve grown quite comfortable with his presence.

“… [Y/n], I’m not going to force you to open up about.. Whatever happened in the dining room.” Montrell starts. “I know I haven’t been here for a long, long time, and it’ll only make you uneasy if I forced details out of you. I came here to check on you, and solely for that reason alone. Since we’re family, I just wanted to let you know that if you need someone– anyone– to talk to, I’m right here.”

You stood there, grasping Miss Lisbon with a frown.

Family. Really, to say it’s because you’re family that he’s willing to do such things— it seemed a little too naïve. After all, you were disappointed by the very people who were supposed to love and care for you since the very beginning.

With a soft touch, Montrell takes the hands you were holding Miss Lisbon with, placing the plushie over his face.

“Just think of me as Miss Lisbon.”

You squeeze the toy a little.

“Let me listen to your every war crime.”

When you lower your hands, you see your older brother, smiling at you sweetly. He was like a softer version of your father. A little more smiley, with dimples marked into the corner of his every smile. When your phone buzzes again, a request slips out your mouth.

“Can you drive me somewhere?”

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ikkosu · 1 month

Note

prowl prowl prowl prowl prowl prowl

read ur earthspark bumblebee fic and I loved it so much u don’t understand how much I love him literally kicking my feet and giggling rn anyways back to prowl. I want to have that man emotionally and a little physically broken and knocked down and he just can’t really go on anymore and then reader pulls him to their lap and hugs and comforts him and he starts crying and sobbing and shit and it’s just very fluffy and that’s when his possessiveness starts anyways this is just a very long ramble and braindump byee

a/n : 😭😭 HELLO???? YOU CSANBT JUST DROP A BOMB AT END THEN LEAVE LIKE ITS NOTHING???? WDYM POSESEIVE??? 🤨🤨🤨🤨 CRIMINAL BEHAVIOR . Ohhh but writing angst with prowl is literally the best tho

THEN, it hit him.

Prowl had expected it, ammassing data from the miniscule furrow of brows, tightening of the lips and shift of stance. Prowl watches. He scrutinizes. He thinks. A one, two, three step — he could calculate the next move.

But wasn't quick enough to register the pain.

He grunts as his helm jerks to the side. A momentum so vehement he staggered off his balance, breaking the rigidity composed of a cold, unflinching face. Now, he's reduced to leaning against the wall, optics a little wide as he took in the sequence.

Like a dam had been spooled, a breach of his calculations, Prowl is stoned cold, left wide open and vulnerable. Jazz would know. The tactician wasnt much good of a fighter.

Warmth trickled from his nose. It tasted bitter on his lips, tangy and acrid, as it dribbles down his chin and plinked onto the ground. He steadied his breath. His digits dig into the wall.

Compose yourself, Prowl.

"Bastard!"

—and he feels a pede hard against his abdomen. A bristle of pain blossomed. First, pinpricks sizzled then it drew every breath from his intake — and out into a grunt. Ivory plating chafes the mettalic floor, curating sparks that skid in tandem of his fall.

Such an open commotion deemed a kind of consequence. Almost immediately, voices bristle and clamour around the base. Comms clicked online. Habsuite door swishes open and out dawdled, droopy, sleep-lulled optics, once irritated by the interruption, now widened in alarm at the sight.

"That's enough." Someone had barked.

Prowl was much too lethargic to care, who. While he gathered himself, pedes scamper, a muffled distance away, not to him but a pitter patter towards the raved and seething bot. He was yelling obscenities.

Prowl tries not to care.

He ignores how it churns his spark a little, like a knife plunged into his chassis and twisting. Servos were quick to furl around the limbs and plating, holding the bot back. They tow him away to the nearest med-bay, he assumed. Struggle was evident.

What was his name? Vox? Vernheim? Vercul? He can't recall. Was it worth remembering? No. Perhaps, it wasn't. Another record he could pass off as insubordinate.

Prowl pressed his helm against the cold, metal floor.

It wasn't worth the risk.

Often, he had sought warmth from the cold, unfurling his beckon while what returned is repugnance. Like an albatross it curled around his neck, strangling the life out of him. You can't be burnt from something already doused of its flames. It was a purpose he tries to upholster, for himself alone and for the better good.

He tuned out the noise. Tuned out the wails of the bot that grew louder and louder as he mourned for his friend — or, he supposed, someone more.

Why should it matter to him?

He lifts his helm a little, high enough to regard the puddle of energon on the floor but low enough not to strain his neck.

Prowl curls out a digit and pressed it against the trickling wound. It coats the ivory tip mauve and another drop rolled from his finger and down where a visage rippled from the puddle. His face bared back. Blue optics, luminiscent and pure and the other, a black-swarthy hole, barren, was his other eye.

Is that how he always looked like? Exhausted? Haggard? The lines of his face, withdrawn and eyes, vacant? If he knew what his actions would have led to, would he have done the same thing as he did? A sharp pain broiled center of his abdomen, right where the pede had landed it's blow.

Prowl swallowed thickly.

Nobody came to him.

"Oh, my god. Prowl?"

He blinks out of his stupor. He's not looking at you, he realizes. His optics were roosted to the ground. To the floor. Then, slowly it trailed upwards to meet your eyes.

Soft, was what he thought as you stood before him in your sleeping garment, hair a mussed up tousle and eyes, glassy. Concern etched the seams of your face, lips frowning.

Irritation fizzles his spark. You should be sleeping. Not joining the myriad of foolish endeavors that had curated prior. But here you are, clutching your shirt, a face so expressive, envy posed a threat to his thoughts.

"Your nose is bleeding!" Your hands finds his shoulder.

Normally, he would dismiss you for being too invasive of his personal space. The difference between of just enough and overbearing isn't clear on your terms — but your voice was frantic. It wavered. He's not sure what to do with himself if it cracked any more.

"I know." He said calmly.

You shake your head in disbelief, now kneeling on the ground. You tugged him closer and every word that you uttered constricted your throat in pain. The pain you felt for him.

" Oh, Prowl. Prowl. Oh, god." Your voice was hushed, coaxing him like he was a child. "Why'd they leave you like this?"

He grits teeth. "Because they knew I'd be fine, alone if I were. And, I am. Now go to sleep. It's late. You have an early shift tommorow. Not to mention, three reports due Friday."

"You're not fine!"

"I am." He clipped.

"You're bleeding!"

"Don't test my patience—"

"You know, you aren't fine! " You rasped. "Stop denying this. Stop denying everything and be gentle with yourself for once!"

You cup his cheek. He bristled at the touch.

Go. Go to sleep. He wants to say. But it's proven difficult by the lump of rocks constricting his throat. He fears that if he uttered a single word — he won't be able to compose himself after, glass breaking at a mere swing.

"You're fragile enough, as is." You said softly. "Stop pushing yourself. Stop pretending. If not for me then...at least for your own good...take care of yourself."

Then, you cradled his helm and pull it against your chest, the possible thought of blood smearing your shirt was discarded.

The fabric nestled his face. It was soft and warm. The fragrance of flowers flared his nose. You smelled nice. Nice like spring. Nice like the morning light that spools through the blinds. When was the last time he was ever held like this?

Prowl tries to steady his thoughts.

"Let me go." He whispered but made no motion to move. His shoulders shook, his servos clamped up into a fist. He feels small. Like a toddler seething with an inner tantrum, tears and snot blotting their itty bitty faces.

You held him tighter. "I won't leave you. Not like this. Not like they did."

"I'm not asking." He bites back. Cool liquid prickles his optics. It's dried by your shirt. Whether or not you felt it, you don't say

"And, I'm not stating an opinion, either." You said, a soothing hand on his back. He's on the ledge, teetering over a cliff he can't climb back up lest he falls.

"A demand goes both ways, Prowl. I'm tired of seeing you like this. Everyday, where you're alone. Cooped up in that room and nobody would spare a glance—"

Your voice wavers.

Prowl buries his face deeper into your warmth. His servo clutched your waist, it was soft to the touch, pulling you close. He wanted to push you. Treat you like how he treats everyone else, a dynamic he often pondered if it was suitable enough for your sanity. But he knew, if ever the day he went too far and you would walk away, the cold shoulder prominent— he's never going to let you go.

"— Let me take care of you, please."

He still hear the voices. The whispers. The resentment. Everything vile that bore a mark on his stature. They purged his mind thoughtless, ushered him to a place, no longer where grief was present but an empty, desolate place where he's unable to escape from it so.

You’re never going to leave him.

And, he’ll ensure in many more ways than one you’re ever going to.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers x reader #transformers idw #prowl x reader #idw prowl

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priestessame · 4 months

Text

Sesshomaru -`♡´-

"Be no fool, I have no such time to waste" or so he said - sry

Fem AFAB reader x Sesshomaru

Warnings: Breeding kink, oral receiving, knotting, unprotected sex, Sesshomaru is a tease.

Minors DNI

(Re-upload from my old account :P)

"Did it surprise you?" He asked, voice like the patter of rain.

"It did," I said testily. I didn't have anything against sitting around having small talk, but I was for once, still coming to terms with the vision before me. The daiyokai of the west sitting there. Without an Armor, dressed in only the thin layer of his inner kimono. As he sat on the other side of the mattress, lounging, the inner, hung around his huge shoulders lazily, baring his pale smooth skin. I had never seen so much of it before, never seen the faint battle scars that rippled across the skin like dunes across silver sand.

I forced myself to look at his face. Not that it was any better. He was gorgeous, ridiculously so. The sharp lines of his face seemed to grow deeper in the moonlight, amber mauve eyes perched on me full of amusement. He wasn't the cold demon lord right then, it was a lover's vision. Sitting across from me, his silver hair beautifully tousled, a sight for me to keep. He wouldn't let anyone else see him like that, being so vulnerable. It wasn't just the breath's distance between us that was intimate, it was the space we were in too.

Most of the time Sesshomaru was a fleeting moment, gone before I could catch him, a silver streak across the sky. But now, sitting right here, he seemed to have all the leisure of time. He was past sneaking glances, right now right here he could gaze at her all he wanted and drink in every inch of her body.

"Would you have preferred separate chambers?" he mused, leaning forward, the inner kimono drew back exposing more of his skin. I hated how he knew exactly what he was doing. And what that was doing to me. I pursed my lips, trying to push down the urge to jump at him.

The last time I was here, I had my own chambers. The one closest to Sesshomaru's quarters. They were ice blue and faced the plum flower trees, I had made myself quite at home there. This time when I was here with the others, I was expecting to stay in my own chambers again, But surprisingly, ‘the others’ my two companions, Sara and Kagura were the ones who were given that room. I shouldn't have felt bitter, I had no right to. After all, I was just a guest of Sesshomaru's now, just like I had been before, nothing more. But I did.

I tasted the bitterness as Sara and Kagura squealed in excitement and hurried into the chambers I had once stayed in. I followed them awkwardly, the turquoise blue drapes, the gold-ornate embellishes on the walls it was all exactly the same. Exactly as I had remembered. The two ran past me, into the huge chamber. I was annoyed at how my heart sank. But I shook off the feeling and kindly asked the attendant where I was supposed to stay. But the cat demon had just blinked at me stupidly.

"I'm sorry my lady I don't understand." she said tilting her head, "Lord Sesshomaru specifically said, that you would be staying with him, in his lordship's chambers."

My soul had transcended there and then, but Sara and Kagura's expressions had brought it back. Asshole. lady. He had made them call me lady.

"I-its alright," I said, pulling my attention away from his face. It was annoying how much I wanted him, for just how long I had wanted him. I had only gazed at him before, resting against the tree, the white fluffy thing pooling around him like starlight. Stupid demon mutt, with ridiculous body proportion and stupid ass fucking gorgeous eyes. Argh. When I had first met him, I had found him unreadable and distant. Someone unattainable, a lone god. Rising and slumbering in his own world. The closest I had come to touching him was when we had traveled through the underworld, I remembered how my palms were pressed against the hash cold metal of his armor. It was less being held and more me clinging on for dear life. But that was the first time he had felt real. Blood, bone, and flesh. Not just some deity, melting into sunlight, but someone tangible. Someone who could be felt. Someone who could be touched.

Clearly, we had come a long way from then, I now had the unattainable God at arm's length, half-naked leisurely awaiting for me to come to him. And to think he wanted me as much as I wanted him was really too good to be true. As much as I wanted to dive in his arms, I was quite enjoying the attention. The great Sesshomaru, proud as one can be, was so shamelessly trying to entice a human girl…Not that I was any better. I had really pulled out my thigh-high socks, who wore those to bed? I had even kissed my oversized jammies goodbye and put on a kimono, which I had worn more like a bathrobe than a garment. It fell open embarrassingly high, and my entire leg was out on display. Unknowingly it had become a competition of who went to whom first.

His fingers ran through my hair, my heart was hammering away with anticipation. How many times had I thought of this moment? How many times I had dreamed of it?

His fingers trailed down my thigh sending goosebumps across my body. That's it.

My body reacted before I could complete my thought. I threw my hand around his neck, pressing myself against his body until our lips met with a crushing force. His mouth was hard on mine, but it came with an edge of desperation I didn’t quite expect. He growled against my mouth, fingers digging into my hips as he pulled me so that I was sitting in his lap. I pulled apart for a breath, but he closed the distance instantly. Through his kisses I could feel his fangs bite at my lower lip, sucking and pulling desperately. I moaned as I felt his tongue pry into my mouth. But I was feeling a little bratty. I clamped my mouth shut, refusing entry. I could feel his annoyance as he growled, he raised his fingers to trace my jaw, thumb pressing against my lip.

"Open." he rasped, it was definitely a command and I felt thrills of excitement run down my spine. I pulled my mouth open and his fingers slid in. I gagged as he pushed them further. There was something so dirty about him exploring my mouth like that, the way they traced over my teeth and rubbed against my tongue, but it turned me on even more. more. I needed more.

His rough kisses snaked down my jaw to my shoulder.

He yanked the fabric of the kimono past my shoulders and I yelped as the cold air hit my bare skin. He trailed his rough kisses down my throat, pulling, bitting the skin, teasingly. With the roughness there was an ease with which his mouth worked over my body, he was taking his time savoring tasting my skin. His fingers were still buried in my hips holding me in place as his mouth found my breasts. I could feel his bulge grow against my thigh, as he brought his arms up along my sides, nails scaping skin lightly. My palms pressed against his broad chest, sliding over his neck down to his tone stomach. I groaned as his fingers raked my body. His kisses slipping between my breasts, as his fingers squeezed and teased them. Fingers and palms pressing and rolling over my nipples, sending sparks of pleasure down my spine. His hands and fingers were teasing, but his mouth was rough and desperate. He would pull the skin and bite my breasts so deliciously I wanted to throw my head back and arch into him, give him more skin to explore and claim.

My fingers dug into his skin, trailing down his tone arms and chest. I traced his abbs lower, fingers finally brushing against the hard bulge between his legs. Sesshomaru snarled from the pleasure, but he just swatted my hand away. "tsk." he exclaimed, "You don't get to touch me tonight human," he drawled out, "Tonight is about me claiming you."

I blinked, claiming- what?

Long fingers undoing the obi around my waist, "You had no idea how to tie it, did you?" He sniggered, finally pulling the knot open. His fingers dug into my sides and left haunting kisses down the rest of my body. I mewled out as his fingers traced my lower abdomen, "No," I admitted, "But it seems to get the job done-" my breath stuck in my chest as his palm brushed against my core.

He arched an eyebrow, "Now you blush?"

He could easily see my dampness through my underwear, he traced a ghost of a touch along the darkened wet spot. He pressed into it lightly and I bit my lip, that fucking tease. Whatever impatience he had before, seemed to have abandoned him completely. Now that he had me under him like this, he was taking all the sweet time in the world. Rubbing me through my panties, drawing patterns with his fingers, when he finally tugged them down his nailed ripped through them.

"H-hey!" I cried, "I liked those, you don't get easily washable material like that in the feudal-". His finger slipped inside and I moaned as I felt my walls wrap around him. I had wanted something inside me for so fucking long. But he slipped it out before I could entirely enjoy it. "You're so wet," he growled, his fingers curled around my thighs as he pushed them up, kissing my knee. He continued to lower himself, trailing a path down my inner thigh. I felt my heart stop as his breath brushed against my core. "Let's see just how wet you can get for this Sesshomaru."

His tongue stroked my folds, and I bit my lip to keep myself from screaming. His tongue teased the folds, slippery lewd sounds echoed off the chamber walls as he continued to eat me out. His mouth reached my clit sucking it lightly and I couldn't help it anymore. Pathetic moans tumbled from my lips, my hips buckling and twitching to his tongue.

As busy as his mouth was, he still found ways to taunt me, “Look at you, mewling like a bitch in heat.” he snarled against my core,

"i- ah I-!" I could no longer comprehend words, pleasure burned into my core as he continued to tease my clit with his tongue, his thumb rubbing circles around my entrance. The orgasm tore from her as her walls squelched helplessly, Sesshomaru gave my clit a final flick and my body buckled from the overstimulation. I slumped back down on the mattress with a soft thump, chest heaving, and my mind swimming with pleasure.

He looked up at me from between my knees, slick covering his lips as he slipped his tongue out to taste me again. Just that sight threatened to make me orgasm again.

"turn around."

"What?"

He tilted his head to the side, long silver hair falling over his shoulder like a river to stars, but his amber eyes were still smoldering, "Turn around and get on your knees, kitten." he said. I scrambled on my knees, was he really going to take me like a bitch?

“it's embarrassing”

“Embarrassing?” Sesshomaru cooed, “To have your pussy exposed like this?” his fingers found my clit again. My hips buckled as he began playing with my entrance again, sliding his finger inside easily, arching them as drew them out. “A little late to embarrassed now isn’t it? Not when we are this wet, not when you’re making that face for me.”

'i-I cant help it- AH!" I yelped as he slipped a second finger inside, waiting for my walls to adjust to the size before returning to his lazy rhythm.

He curled his fingers, the thumb still drawing patterns on my clit, I felt myself reaching my limit again and my body shuddered, I was about to cum again, But-

"I don't-" I tried for words, fighting the irresistible pleasure riding through my body.

"what is it human?" he purred out, enjoying how much of a mess he was making of me.

"I don't want to cum from your fingers again-i-"

Sesshomaru pulled his fingers out torturously slow, I felt his fang scrape against my shoulder as he leaned in to whisper to her, "Tell me what you want, kitten." he rasped against my ear, "Tell this Sesshomaru what you want inside you."

"You-" I said shamelessly, "I want your cock inside me."

I looked back to see his eyes darken, in the shadow of the room, he looked like a feral demon now more than ever. His lip twitched up in a faint smirk. He wrapped his fingers around my waist and flipped me over. I watched as he towered over me, pinning my wrists over my head. I felt my eyes widen. I felt an undeniable thrill run down my spine as I realized I couldn’t move my arms at all. He was really going to claim me tonight.

"Then human," he rumbled, "My cock is what you'll have."

I knew he was going to be big, so there wasn't much surprise, but still, the fucking thought of that being inside sent jitters across my body.

My heart hammered with anticipation as he finally, finally lined himself against my entrance. The bulbous tip stretched me out as he entered, he filled me up completely as he pushed himself entirely in, it was hot and heavy my walls pressed against him. "Look at you, such a good little kitten taking me so well." he purred, his nails dug into the mattress. I could feel the heat and the throb of his cock through my walls, it was so overwhelming I felt like I was going to melt. Every thurst was sending jolts of pleasure through my body, I could feel him move inside me, rubbing my walls, digging into me so deliciously I was seeing stars.

I grabbed onto his hair, fingers sinking into them like silk. His fangs scraped my neck as he drove forward.

I had never seen him like that. It both terrified and turned me on. The great demon lord seemed to have lost complete hold on himself. His blue marks extended, growing more ragged, his pants grew more erratic. I could tell he was very close. His penis throbbed as my walls squelched helplessly against his length. His grip on my wrist tightened as he growled, “I have wanted to fuck a litter into you for a long time.”

The thought of him breeding me turned me on more than it should have. I screamed, arching my back and snapping my hips up. “please, please breed me, lord Sesshomaru!.” I moaned out, shame having left my body long ago.

That’s all I needed to say to put him over the edge. Sesshomaru growled, slamming his mouth onto mine. I felt his release exploded inside me, warm liquid splashing against my walls, filling me up. The demon lord threw his head back, riding out his own orgasm into her. It was quite the sight to see, Sesshomaru in all his glory, chest heaving as he continued to ride her, a lining of sweat glistening on his body. The lewd sounds of him pumping his cum deeper into her. It was all too much. He was still inside me when he finally slumped down, burying his face in the crook of my neck. My pussy was throbbing and my heart was still hammering.

I had given himself to him. Completely. With the cum and him still inside me, I felt so full, I didn’t know what to do with myself.

I shifted my hips and Sesshomaru groaned.

‘I, i-it-its stuck.” I said.

Sesshomaru grunted against my neck, “Just hold still, human.”

“oh okay.”

His fingers traced the outline of my jaw, his mouth gliding over my neck. I was quite enjoying the cuddling but…

“So..um.” I began, “How long does it take for it to usually.. unknot?’

“soon.”

I ran my fingers through his hair. “You are a lot more talkative during sex.” I said, “The others would never believe how much you run your mouth.”

Sesshomaru looked up at me and grinned. It was terrifying. Nothing good ever came out of this man smiling.

“What?”

His amber eyes settled on mine, he was still inside me but it was the gaze that made me blush. “They’ll know.” He spoke.

I opened my mouth to question when the realization hit me. No way.

“You can't possibly mean-“ My voice trailed off as he flicked his tongue lazily over my nipple. “y- you gave them my room so that they could… hear us fucking?”

There was a ‘pop’ as he let go of the nipple. And I took that as a yes.

Oh well.

#sesshomaru #lord sesshoumaru #inuyasha anime #reader x sesshomaru

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jnnul · 9 months

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your love is my favorite color (enhypen)

a/n: so...this was kinda based off of my synesthesia...i don't rlly have any explanation for this or anything otherwise. hope u guys like it!

genre: pure fluff, just different types of love in different types of ways, idk man it's cute it's sweet it's a word vomit that's all i got for u tw: mentions of arguments, and once again, emotional constipation w sunghoon sorry

word count: 1.3k

YANG JUNGWON

gif creds: @jeonwonwoo

jungwon is orange

his love is quiet, but dynamic in a juxtaposition that only he can make work

he's the space between the moon and the sun when they recede in the sky because loving jungwon is loving in limbo

he's the vibrant ocher of dusk, when golden hour is making your skin glow and jungwon swears up and down he's never seen a prettier sight

he's the languid peachy rays of dawn, when he's sending you good morning texts before starting his busy day

he's the amber of his eyes when he's trying to memorize every single detail of your face when you fall asleep on call

he's the ginger of the cookies you bake him when you know he's been having a tough time

he's the cinnamon of your perfume when he seeks the comfort of your arms after spending so much time apart on tour

LEE HEESEUNG

gif creds: @simleez

heeseung is yellow

his love is the simplest way that he understands the world, much like the simplest color of them all; through your heart and yellow

he's the color of the tuscan sun on a vacation that he's had to spend months planning in secret because that's the way he loves you

he's the butterscotch of the flowers that he sends you when he's on tour

his love is the marigold of the sweater that you wear to his concert, hidden in the crowd but heeseung can recognize you from a mile away

he is the lemon color of the childish bracelets the two of you make together in the safety of his dorm

he is the gold of the necklace you buy him for your anniversary that he keeps in his pocket no matter where he goes

his love is the honey that seems to drip from his eyes every time he looks at you because sometimes, he can't believe how lucky he is

PARK JONGSEONG

gif creds: @hooned

jay is purple

loving him is a regal, almost noble act that is the same color as the once coveted hue of the kings and queens of the world

he is the sangria that stains your lips when the two of you go wine tasting as your first date

he is the periwinkle that dangles in front of your eyes when he shows you the earrings he had spent hours crafting for you

his love is the violet blanket that you sob into when he leaves you for the first time on tour and that's the only thing in your home that still smells like him weeks later

he is the mulberry of his favorite dress on you because he knows how hard you worked to feel good wearing it

he is the amethyst that you decorate his dorm room with to make him think of you when you're not with him

his love is the mauve of the paper he uses to write you love letters because he's a hopeless romantic and you're his muse

SIM JAEYOON

gif creds: @jjsungie

jake is red

falling in love with him is a whirlwind passion hidden within two hearts, covered in the color of passion and romance

he is the cherry of the lipstick that's printed on his collar after a night of possessive love

his love is the blush that rises in his cheeks when you tell him you love him for the first time because he's never known what it's like to be loved in this way

he is the crimson of the neon lights around you in this downtown, while he's holding your hand tight - as if you would disappear if he let go

he is the rose of the flowers that he gives you on your one year anniversary, the adrenaline rush of youth finally starting to fade into something else

his love is the garnet of his sweater when you're tucked into his chest at home on a friday night, instead of clubbing because he realizes he's okay being anywhere as long as it's with you

jake is the scarlet of the dress you wear when you hold his hand and walk into the company building to declare that you were going to take the next step of your relationship

PARK SUNGHOON

gif creds: @jaeyxns

sunghoon is blue

loving him is like loving a tsunami of a man; harsh at times, but the rain always give way to the sunshine

he is the navy of his blazer that he's wearing the first time he meets you, not sparing a second glance when he bumps into you

sunghoon is the azure of the napkins on the table the second time he meets you - and this time, he can't take his eyes off of you

he is the denim of your skirt when he tells you that he can't be with you because...because he's not sure he deserves you

his love is the sapphire of the keychain you gave him on his bag that makes his heart thump against his chest when he remembers the look in your eyes when he left you

he is the cobalt of the wall that he kisses you senseless against as he tries to make up for lost time. to convince you that he's still worth your time.

he is the ocean blue of the waves you're running into, watching you with a smile and a heart so content, he's ready to give it all up for you

KIM SUNOO

gif creds: @get-lit

sunoo is green

his love is perhaps the easiest thing in the world; loving him is easy and comfortable. like breathing a breath of fresh air.

he is the pistachio of the couch that you insist looks good in the living room of the apartment you've just moved into with him (he begs to differ)

he is the basil of the sofa you actually decided on, pressing an excited kiss to sunoo's cheek when he agrees

he is the seafoam of the mugs that you had bought for the two of you; the same mugs that you swat away from jungwon when he accidentally tries to take it

his love is the emerald of the necklace that rises and falls with every breath you take in your sleep and he can't believe that he gets to wake up to this every day for the rest of his life

he is the lime of the box of tissues you've been continuously pulling out of after a particularly bad argument. he wordlessly replenishes the box.

sunoo is the mint of the ice cream smoothie the two of you share as you reminisce on how far you've come and just how far you'll go together

NISHIMURA RIKI

gif creds: @heeseunq

riki is pink

falling in love with him is stumbling into big emotions with naïve minds but not minding a thing because who would you rather learn with than him?

he is the lotus of the notebook that you slide across the table to him, asking him to help you study for a test

his love is the bubblegum blanket that he covers you with when you fall asleep in the middle of studying, confusing himself when he realizes just how much he wants to stay here with you

he is the rouge that stains his cheeks late at night when he searches up how he feels when he's around you (the results say he has a crush on you)

he is the watermelon of your chapstick when you kiss him for the first time, blinking hurriedly. eyes still closed, almost instinctively, his lips chase yours.

he is the hot pink of the sweater you buy for him, not having the heart to tell you it's horrendous when you're looking at him with those puppy eyes

his love is the peach shaped sticky note that he presses into your hand with a messy scrawl on just how proud of you he is when you ace your test

#jnnul #enhypen fluff #enhypen fic #enhypen #jungwon headcanons #jungwon fluff #heeseung headcanons #heeseung fluff #jay park fluff #jay headcanons #jake headcanons #jake fluff #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon headcanons #sunoo headcanons #sunoo fluff #riki fluff #riki headcanons

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dollwritesarchive · 1 year

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𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 — 𝐣𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!sex worker!reader, obvious warning for sex work, shy!reader, cockwarmimg, exhibitionism, age gap ( reader is 18+ but jinkuro and usui are significantly older), mentions / mocking of religious beliefs, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ requested by anonymous. written with the same reader in mind as learn the ropes. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <3

Jinkuro was your benefactor now, and that came with certain privileges you were almost certain had to be against some set of rules, somewhere, that he chose to ignore for the sake of getting to touch you. while the officer generally spent the majority of his time in the Pleasure District, he’d become glued specifically to the house where you worked, and even more specifically, he’d made sure you were always glued to him.

not that you minded. after all, he was paying for you to live as comfortably as one could in a brothel, without any other customers to concern yourself with; just him.

“They are feeding you well, yes? Giving you all the gifts I send?” he croons, tilting your head up as you perch on his lap. you’d been smearing your lipstick over his collarbone, giving him lazy kisses. you’d heard him send for Usui and figured that you shouldn’t start anything you couldn’t finish before he needed to get to work. you smile, and nod, dipping your chin to kiss at his fingers as if praising them for the silver he counts out to give to you.

“Am I wearing them all, as you requested?”

his dusky, amethyst eyes twinkle, peeking from behind most unruly mauve tendrils, as the line of sight dances over the gems around your throat and sparkling on your earlobes. you had also been sure to dab the perfume he’d sent you on your neck, which he leaned in to sniff at before he planted a kiss on your pulse point. your breath caught in your throat and you leaned back on his lap.

“Like a very, good girl.” he purrs, tracing his tongue over your skin. you imagine he’s sketching the characters of his own name, claiming you further. “Now say thank you.”

you were still not used to being doted on so passionately, so sometimes your gratitude was overwhelmed by bashfulness. “Th—thank you for the gifts, Lord Jinkuro!” you yipped when you felt his teeth scrape at your shoulder. both of his hands pressed against your lower back to rub your bare cunt against his crotch. you could feel the weight of his hard on through the thin fabric that keeps it imprisoned.

you weren’t fully nude, yourself. with your kimono knotted loosely, the shoulders slipped down your arms, creating a heart-shaped neckline to expose the tops of your breasts. and, as you straddled his lap, the split exposed your thighs. you didn’t mind, though, because it was just you and him.

until the screen door slid open. “Isarizawa.” it was Usui’s gentle, but very blunt greeting, before he steps inside, and the woman pushed the screen closed again.

peeking around your shoulder after a moment, you see Usui sitting on his knees, his face an unreadable, yet soft visage. as if he were deep in thought about something that only he could understand. it wasn’t your first time meeting Usui; you’d seen him in passing, as Jinkuro called on him often to meet in the private rooms of the Pleasure House, and you didn’t think he looked as scary as most of the men that came in and out of it. however, there was something just behind the politeness, his genteel way of talking. you couldn’t put your finger on it, but he didn’t seem to be as harmless as his soft features made him look. Jinkuro had only solidified this creeping suspicion when you’d asked him one night, wrapped in his arms, what kind of a man Usui was. ‘He only ever comes to the Pleasure District when you call for him,’ you’d observed, snuggling close to your master with your breasts smashed against his chest. ‘What sort of a man avoids the brothels like he does?’

‘A religious one.’

you wanted to contest that. you’d seen too many monks make their way through the doors that caged you, too many priests. but Jinkuro wore an expression that told you that you didn’t understand what he meant.

‘I’m not fond of hearing you talk about other men,’ he’d taunted, mostly to change the subject as he rolled over on top of you, pinning you to the floor. leaning close, he’d allowed his tiers to ghost over yours before he murmured, ‘Let’s find a task to put that pretty mouth to.’

looking back now, you’d realized that he hadn’t truly been all that jealous, he simply knew something about Usui that he didn’t want to share with you. or, perhaps, they were his own suspicions. you supposed it didn’t matter. Usui was never unkind. though he didn’t smile at you, he did make eye contact, which was more than what most of Jinkuro’s visitors did. usually, they licked their lips as their filthy eyes scraped over your frame when you kept close to Jinkuro’s side. they would, without fail, mention how grateful they would be if he were generous enough to share you at least once, but he’d always refused.

but Usui had never once looked at you like that. he’d never once fixed his mouth to ask for your services. his eyes didn’t linger lower than your face.

“Usui, punctual as ever.” Jinkuro joked, before adding, “It seems like you must’ve already been in the neighborhood.”

Usui didn’t even smile at that. instead, he answered simply. “I try not to keep you waiting, I know how busy you can be.” his eyes flicker from you to Jinkuro, and then back, knowingly.

your cheeks warm up with a tender blush, and you look down to Jinkuro’s pipe on the floor. it was empty. you could make yourself useful and fetch his tobacco. sliding off of his lap, you reach for it, only to find his hands around your waist. “I’m not quite finished with you yet, sweetheart.” he murmured.

“I—“ sheepish, you stand up straight. you’re facing Usui now, your hands reaching down to hold on to Jinkuro’s, “I just thought… I should get something for you to smoke.” you offer, “Allow you a moment of privacy— oh!”

you let out a gasp of surprise when Jinkuro plucks you from your feet and sits you back on his lap, pressing your back to his chest. you brace yourself against his knees, trying to keep your own as tight against his thighs as you could so as to keep from exposing yourself to Usui.

“Smoke?” Jinkuro guffaws.

“She’s quite thoughtful.” Usui observes— it seems that he knows what your true intentions were. to slink out of the room and give them a moment to talk in private. it was as if everything they discussed was confidential, and while you admittedly didn’t understand most of it, you also were somewhat certain you shouldn’t be hearing it. “You must be thrilled to have someone so eager to tend to you.”

Jinkuro quirks a brow. a wicked thought must’ve deeper into his mind due to his throbbing erection that you’ve yet to do anything about. “She’s very good at tending to me,” he murmurs, leaning forward to kiss at your neck. the tickling sensation distracts you from his shifting, one hand sliding underneath your butt to pull his cock free. “Is that right, little one?”

you’re blushing, embarrassed, but you swoon nonetheless, and nod. “Y—yes sir…”

“Would you like a chance to prove it?”

there’s a moment between his question and the answer you’re given, where you want to ask how you possibly can. however, when you feel the thick tip of his cock, underneath your kimono, slapping at your slick, you stifle a humiliated squeal. “S—sir!” you whisper, eyes big when he slips it in, pulling you back to fit you in place on his lap.

if Usui was watching the display, then he was incredible at hiding any reaction he might’ve had. not even a twitch of his eyebrow as you whimpered, sitting on Jinkuro’s lap, full of thick, hard cock.

Jinkuro rumbles deep in his chest, a pleased moan as he nests, throbbing in your guts, one hand reaching around to tug at the knot holding your clothes together. “Did you know you’re twice as tight when you’re being shy?” he teases, and when the fabric falls aside, exposing your body completely to his guest, you whine. he’s there, though, to suck hard on your neck before his tongue lazes out, tracing a line up to your earlobe so he can moan into it, “Twice as wet, too. Do you enjoy squeezing my cock while Usui watches?”

“It’s… embarrassing…” you mewl, reaching up to shield your breasts from Usui. you weren’t sure why— he wasn’t gawking at them. you would just feel better if you had some sort of shield.

Jinkuro hums, playfully thoughtful, but leans back against the back of the couch, grabbing your wrists to pry your arms from your chest and pin them to your sides. you could feel the tip of him prodding at your belly; you imagined there was a faint lump against it, proving that you were as full as you possibly could be. “What do you think, Usui? Should my little pet be embarrassed?”

Usui doesn’t so much as flinch, “Of course not.” he answers, although you suspect he does so because offending Jinkuro wouldn’t be beneficial for him. his eyes lock on to yours, but his voice is soft and reassuring, “She has nothing to be embarrassed about when she serves her master.”

sheepish, you look away. somehow, that made you feel even more humiliated, knowing he probably doesn’t truly feel that way. if he was as religious as Jinkuro led you to believe, perhaps he found this whole display utterly repulsive. it bothered you that you might never know for sure.

“Perhaps you enjoy watching, Usui.” Jinkuro murmurs. he was teasing him, but there was a hint of maliciousness behind his words. you always knew the two of them had a rather delicate coexistence, though you didn’t know why, but Jinkuro always seemed more stressed than relieved after his meetings with Usui. as if he were on the brink of discovering something horrible that would turn the fragile balance of Nagasaki on its head. “I’ve seen the glances you steal. You must fantasize about being in a position just like me.”

“L—Lord Jinkuro—“ you grip his thighs tightly with your restrained hands. every time he jerks while he talks, or lets out a booming laugh, he jabs into your belly, grinds against your sensitive, interior nerves. you were trying not to moan, loud and pathetic, each time.

Usui doesn’t answer. so, Jinkuro continues. “You can’t tell me that church of yours controls even your thoughts. When you look at something so fuckable, like my precious, little toy here—“ with one hand fleeing to your face, Jinkuro angles it towards Usui, and you blush madly, biting down on your lip to stifle a happy moan when his hips jut forward. whether he meant to or not, it felt good, and your eyelids fluttered. “You want to be the one stretching out her soft, warm pussy. Don’t you?”

Usui stares at your expression, and you notice an inkling of something new in his eyes. the tiniest, briefest glimmer of what could’ve been hunger, when your tongue threatens to hang out of your mouth. your eyes want to cross. just being full of Jinkuro is enough to cause your mind to melt into a state of wanting to be completely fuckdumb. it’s humiliating, but you can’t help it.

“I’ll admit you’re a very lucky man,” Usui says, his tone surprisingly even considering the way his eyes had looked just then. even if it was only for a second, you could feel the intensity behind it, and what intentions might’ve crept into his mind. “But you knew that already. Didn’t you?”

Jinkuro beams, leaning forward again. this time, you squirm on his lap, and call for him again. “I’d be a fool if I didn’t know it.” he muttered, and kisses the side of your mouth.

“Sir… please…”

“Shhh, shh,” he hums, allowing his hand to fall to your hip and hold you in place, flush against his groin. you could feel the heat of his balls smashing against your sex and you know he’s as deep as he can go, it only makes you want to allow your head to drop back and expel a loud, long cry of his name. like you always did. “Be a good girl and endure it for me,” he whispers, like a prayer in your ear. you’re already nodding, trying to convince yourself that you can. “And I’ll fuck your greedy, little cunt so good you’ll see stars once the meeting’s over.”

oh, god, you truly went mad for that promise. your nails dug into his thighs and you nodded again. “Y—yes sir! I’ll—I’ll be good!”

“Always so shy, but I can tell you like to show off, just like I do.” Jinkuro chuckles, and glances at Usui, as if challenging him. “Next time, you should bring your little samurai friend along. The one that always wears that sour look on his face. I’ll put her on back and the two of you can watch her scream when I pound her properly.”

Usui glances, briefly, at you, before looking back at him. his expression doesn’t change, but you get the feeling he’s considering it. he’d already gotten a glimpse of what you looked like desperate, and you can’t deny that for a moment ( if only that ), he looked like he was intrigued.

“It’s certainly worth considering.”

#jinkuro x you #jinkuro x reader #jinkuro isarizawa x you #jinkuro isarizawa x reader #jinkuro isarizawa #revenger x reader #revenger anime #revenger x you #revenger smut #usui yuen

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