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malleleothreesome · 5 months

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Leona who is pining after you...

💛 summary: Cohesive blurbs about things Leona would do and what he would be like if he were pining after you. ༶༶༶ 💛 warnings: gender neutral reader, unedited, pretty much just a stream of my thoughts. There is cursing. Very angsty but also has romance. Mentions of depressive thoughts. A very raw look into Leona's mind. There is smut (wet dream) in the middle, marked with 🔞 if you want to skip to the next bullet. ༶༶༶ 💛 word count: 4.7k because I'm delulu

💛 Leona who is pining after you... tries to gaslight himself and cling to any sort of logical explanation he can come up with to try to convince himself that he definitely does not have feelings for you. It was probably just a one-time thing, and he just needs to find a way to get you out of his head. He's never thought about anyone this way before, so it's definitely just an error in his brain chemistry or something. It was only a coincidence that he happened to be thinking about you at that particular time, and if you had never been on his mind at all, his heart wouldn't be beating so fast every time he interacts with you. He would never allow himself to develop feelings for anyone, especially you, so he must not actually have any. It's really that simple. It couldn't possibly be that he's fallen for some weird, magicless human, right? Right?! There has to be something medically wrong with him! He must be crazy to have these kinds of thoughts about a stranger who just randomly poofed into existence at the beginning of the semester. Why did you invade his dreams? It doesn't matter! What the hell is wrong with him?!

It has to be a mistake, because there is no way he would EVER fall for someone as annoying and boring as you are, even if you do seem to have a better understanding of him than the people who have known him his whole life, and you treat him like he actually matters instead of seeing him as the scumbag you probably should have gotten to know better before giving him your time and attention. It's not like he genuinely cares what you think of him, anyway – he’s just grateful that he doesn't have to deal with another person treating him like a failure or a lazy, worthless piece of shit.

The way you look at him like he could be someone worth loving despite his constant tirade of anger is definitely not a key factor in him caring for you. Your smile and laugh makes his chest feel funny, and the fact that he is suddenly hyper-aware of his body when he's around you is probably just a symptom of mental or physical illness. Maybe he’s finally eaten too much red meat and he’s about to succumb to heart disease at the ripe age of 20. Perhaps he simply hasn't rubbed one out in a while and he’s thinking with his dick and not his head? He's definitely not attracted to you, and he's absolutely not thinking about what it would be like to kiss you right now. That would just be insane, and he can't believe he even let himself entertain the thought! He’d rather die than think about what it would be like to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him as you sit on his lap, looking down at him with that beautiful smile and those cunning eyes of yours, gently stroking his face as you lean down to press your lips against his… oh, god dammit!

💛 Leona who is pining after you… finally lays down in surrender to the fact that, alright, maybe he does have feelings for your dumb ass – against all odds. He convinces himself that he’s only humoring this pathetic little crush because it makes his monotonous, tiresome days a little more riveting. Lions are predators, and the thrill of the hunt is a key part of their nature, after all. Before you, all he had to look forward to was staring at the ceiling in his dark room for most of the day until the stars showed up in the sky, or until he got roped into housewarden drama and became too frustrated to do anything other than restlessly pace around Savanaclaw before eventually confining himself back to the comforting solitude of his room. He tells himself he might as well allow himself the small luxury of thinking about someone who doesn’t entirely annoy the shit out of him, because he could sure as hell use the emotional relief. At least this way, he isn’t actively thinking about how much he hates his life, and how much he hates himself for letting it become this way. Besides, what would be the harm in letting himself entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe – if he was lucky enough – you could be the first person to ever break down the walls he built to keep himself from getting hurt by other people? Plus, if nothing else, you make for such a pretty daydream.

Every moment he spends with you makes him want you to keep sticking around even after everything is said and done. You can actually keep up with his banter, which is probably why he can actually stand being around you in the first place. No one else is capable of keeping up with his quick wit, or of providing him with a good challenge. You aren't scared off by his harsh demeanor, and you're able to stand up to him when he gets a little too overbearing. You don't take his bullshit, but you still care about his well being and treat him with respect. Despite his public struggles, you don’t see him as some sort of charity case. He's never met anyone else who is able to be so firm with him, but gentle at the same time. He didn't know someone could have such a strong presence without even having magic, but you're somehow always able to pull the rug out from under him, showing him that you're much more powerful than he initially gave you credit for. You're a real pain in his ass sometimes, but you're also the only person in years who's made him feel like life might actually be worth living. Maybe these feelings aren't so bad after all…

💛 Leona who is pining after you… starts leaving his room more often and even attending classes again, hoping he'll run into you on campus. If he doesn't see you, that would suck, but he knows if he stays in his room all day, then he'd risk losing the chance to spend the day with you completely. Besides, if there's even the slightest possibility, seeing you could be the highlight of his day and make even his shittiest days seem almost bearable. When you finally show up, he throws a casual greeting and a nonchalant raise of a single brow, pretending like he coincidentally ran into you in the crowd and totally didn't memorize your class schedule. When your face lights up, telling him you were glad to run into him, his pulse races and for a split second, a goofy grin flashes on his face and he desperately starts fighting his tail from swishing eagerly behind him. All he does is mumble in agreement, then shove his hands in his pockets, rolling his eyes like this isn't what he's been waiting for since he woke up. He says he might as well join you in the cafeteria, because he's starving and it's that time anyway, so whatever.

As you enter the lunch line, your face falls in disappointment when you realize your favorite sandwich is sold out. Leona expected something like this would happen, so he asked Ruggie to grab him one of that type of sandwich along with his usual order, on the chance that he would get to spend lunch with you. He looks to his right, glancing at your slumped shoulders as your mood seems to deflate a little as a frown forms on your face. He steps forward and grumbles an off-hand comment that he snagged one earlier for himself, but since you look so pitiful, he'll let you have it, only because he doesn't want to deal with your incessant whining the whole lunch. When you gape up at him, shocked by his thoughtful gesture, his face starts burning red as he quickly turns away, aggressively stuffing a bite of food in his face to make himself look distracted. When he happens to catch your thankful eyes glistening at him, it feels like the air has been punched right out of his lungs, and the small smile and sincere gratitude tugging on the corner of your lips causes his stomach to do backflips. How annoying that his usually stoic demeanor always falls apart in front of you.

💛 Leona who is pining after you... constantly teases you and tries to embarrass you, attempting to make it sound like you're the one pining for him (even if you're not!) just to try to distract you from the truth. He teases you relentlessly, hoping it’ll make it so you won't feel confident calling him out on the little ways he treats you differently than everyone else. He loves seeing you get flustered trying to deny it, but he also uses it as an opportunity to study your reactions, trying to deduce your real feelings for him by the color in your cheeks, the wavering of your voice, how often you avert your eyes, and how quickly you fire back with an argument. The smirk that emerges on his face tells you exactly that he's not convinced, even if you deny everything. He may be subtle about it, but he uses every opportunity he can find to feel you out, to see if there's even the slightest possibility you might feel something for him. He'll never let you know how badly he wants it to be true with every fiber of his being. He’d be absolutely thrilled if you confessed to him, but he’ll never show it, because it's far more comfortable hiding behind sarcasm. His prideful, guarded heart prevents him from expressing genuine positive emotions and potentially opening himself up to any type of mockery.

💛 Leona who is pining after you... slowly becoming more attached to the idea of you falling for him. As the weeks go by and he hears you giggle as you argue with him, his thoughts linger a bit more when they try to calculate why he's not actually feeling burnt out from spending so much time with you. His patience with the rest of the world starts waning, not really bothering to deal with anyone or anything that could distract him from basking in your aura for as long as possible. He even takes a more active role in interacting with you, whether you two are chatting as he sits on a bench in the botanical gardens, or hanging out after-hours in his room, hoping that this could eventually become a common routine. He loves learning about you and the world you come from. When you open up about your background, he enjoys getting a glimpse into your mind. His brain starts rapidly filing away little details about you, creating a catalog of thoughts for each of his favorite things about you, or the little quirks you have that he secretly finds endearing. The memories of conversations where you both held each other's gaze for a fraction of a second longer than normal or the accidental touches that cause his heart to skip a beat come to life with a vibrance never seen in other parts of his memory bank. The time you grabbed his hand because the tree branches kept making “spooky” noises around you and the time you playfully messed up his hair (even daring to cop a feel of his ear in the process!), are some of his favorite memories to revisit.

As you two grow closer and more comfortable with each other, he pretends to be annoyed at you more often, only because he wants to test how well you can read him, and also how far he can push you. He revels in the way he feels a spark in his chest and a faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips whenever your eyes meet. He tries hard to remind himself that the growing heat rising to his face every time you grin at him is all because of the temperature. His playful touches start to become more sensual, his voice dips deeper and more seductive as his hands linger on your skin, his breath fanning against your face and neck with every taunting word spoken. He hates himself for loving the way you bite your lip and blush under his gaze as he continues to run his hand up your arm, causing your eyelids to flutter. He loves the feeling of power your vulnerable, affectionate expression grants him, the rush of endorphins so great he thinks his entire body might collapse. When he pulls his hand back, the stinging absence leaves him in a state of panic, terrified that this might have been the moment you'd realize how he feels about you and finally flee. In an effort to swallow his vulnerability and save face, he'll cover up his aroused desire with aggression. With a bite in his tone, he'll lash out at you, mocking the way you acted so touch-starved and desperate in the heat of the moment, even though the only one truly desperate here is him. He has to force himself to maintain eye contact and an air of dominance with you while he snaps at you, even as he feels his throat tighten, heart slamming against his ribs. He metaphorically shoves you away and leaves before he loses control, before his raw affection for you spills from his lips like a confession.

💛 🔞 Leona who is pining after you... fast asleep as he lies alone in bed, your figure haunting his dreams. Right before he fell asleep, he was having a particularly bad day and he found himself clinging to a fantasy of holding you in his arms, using you as an anchor to help him process the dread of reality. On a typical night, all he has are his regrets and unanswered questions swirling around in his subconscious, but tonight is different – he falls asleep dreaming about being curled up against your warmth, wondering what it would be like for you to stroke his hair, gently reminding him that there's at least one good thing to wake up for, no matter how empty the day may feel.

As he falls deeper into his slumber, his eyelids begin to twitch and his long eyelashes tickle his flushed cheekbones. He finds himself lost within a dreamy state that feels so very real to him as your face fades into focus. You're kneeling beside him in the bed, and his body is covered in the sheets, with your arms wrapped underneath his shoulder. He can barely tell whether or not this is really a dream at this point as you rest your head against his. He can feel his body stirring and his tail twitching, roused by the comforting and blissful affection. The way you smile at him as you run your thumb along the curvature of his sharp jawline stirs a dormant ache in his soul as you lean forward and leave featherlight kisses in the crook of his neck, causing him to whimper under his breath. He buries his nose in the locks of your hair, desperately wrapping his arms around your waist, pushing your face deeper into the space between his neck and shoulder, craving the coziness and comfort of being physically close to the source of his yearning. In his dreams, your lips are able to be as soft and gentle as they are fierce and demanding, as the grip he has on reality grows weaker the longer he lets himself be trapped under the intoxicating spell you cast upon him, rendering him at the mercy of his deepest desires.

His breath becomes more labored and hitched, his temperature rising as a flush spreads across his face. His body starts moving involuntarily and he buries his hips further into his mattress, his aching cock desperate to be touched, throbbing as his precum smears against the sheets. He begins humping the bed, whining from the friction against his bare skin as he pulls you closer in his dream, shamelessly chasing after the erotic thoughts racing through his mind, fueled by the illusion of having you in his possession – ready to be ravished and worshiped by him and him alone. His full lips part as he moans your name. He thrashes around in his bed, a tingling, aching need radiates throughout his groin as his back arches off of the sheets, grinding his cock against the fabric of his blanket. He can almost feel the warmth of your body as he bucks his hips upwards once more, desperate for your heat. His fingers twitch as they clutch tighter onto the fabric, desperately trying to grab onto the illusion of you instead, wishing he could feel the texture of your skin underneath his fingertips. In his hazy state, he bites his lips and runs his fingers down his sculpted abdomen, his hand with a mind of its own, aching to reach lower. With a sigh of pleasure, he teases the tip of his leaking, throbbing erection as the muscles in his legs quiver with anticipation. He pushes his thumb against the slit of his tip, already wet with his excitement. He slowly rubs circles around his cockhead, causing his breath to hitch and his cock jerk at the sensation. In his unconscious mind, it's not his hand gripping his shaft – it's yours.

He wraps his large hand around the length of his dick, letting out a moan of pleasure as he starts to stroke, his pace increasing steadily with each pump, imagining what it would be like to have you kneeling between his spread legs, looking up at him as you jerk him off, begging to be fucked by him. His cock twitches and aches to be inside of you, to see your lewd expression as his dick fills you, his senses overwhelmed by the sight of you under him, sprawled out, sweaty and splayed wide open for the taking, gasping for air in between broken moans. His hips buck into his hand and he lets out a low growl as he feels the pressure building within him, feeling himself getting closer to the edge. He quickens the pace as he squeezes the base of his cock, stroking faster and faster, trying to keep up with the intensity of his dream. He wants to feel your velvety walls squeezing around him, milking every drop of cum from his throbbing cock. He pants heavily as the sensation of ecstasy courses through his body, moaning your name as he orgasms, his back arching off of the bed as he cums all over his hand, shooting thick ropes of hot cum onto his abs. He slows his pace, riding out his orgasm, lazily stroking his cock as it pulsates through his veins, feeling the aftershocks of pleasure tingling down his spine. With a final moan of satisfaction, he collapses on his bed, utterly spent from his activities. The euphoria of his orgasm fades away as he comes back to reality, slowly finding himself coming into consciousness. As he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is the mess he made. He groans as he rolls out of bed, annoyed that he has to clean up after his wet dream before he can go back to sleep.

💛 Leona who is pining after you... falls into despair when he realizes his stupid feelings for you aren't going away – they're actually getting stronger by the day. You’ve made him feel like the world's not actually so cruel anymore, but he knows that his tiny, fragile castle is sure to crumble at any moment. Nothing good ever stays his way, does it? He's been telling himself that this was all some game. It's not like he actually wanted to be in a relationship with you, right? That would be far too much work. But what if you were actually worth the time? What if he could have someone who knew every aspect of his being and still loved and accepted him? What if he could be the person who's worthy of your beautiful, unrelenting love? Even as he chastises himself for entertaining the possibility of a relationship with anyone – especially a herbivore like you – a desperate, longing ache burrows into his bones, overpowering the cold, empty hollowness within him that had haunted him his whole life. This can't be love that he's feeling, and if it is... he knows now that love is the only strategy game in existence he's terrible at playing. There's no doubt in his mind he'll make the worst decisions imaginable because his entire being is clouded with insecurity. He is painfully aware that if he were to ever open himself up to the possibility of being with you, then his first thought would be of a thousand ways you would hurt him. He tortures himself with worries and fear, letting himself be consumed by anxiety.

The thing that frightens him most is becoming reliant on someone else for his happiness. Having someone whose opinion he actually values not thinking he is good enough for them is his worst nightmare. If there's one thing life has taught him, it's better to not have anyone at all. Besides, he doesn't even deserve you. There isn't a soul in this world who deserves someone like you – someone so selfless, understanding, empathetic, and forgiving. If you were his, you'd suffer. Your light would slowly flicker out from the darkness he would drown you in, just like everything else in his life that ever mattered to him. There is so much beauty to you that would go to waste in his care – why would someone as perfect as you ever settle for someone like him, anyway? There's no way you'd ever return his feelings. And even if you did… could he even be brave enough to allow you in? Does he have the strength to accept a heart freely offered to him? Will the scars and darkness within him allow him to accept such pure and unconditional love? He can't possibly be selfish enough to ask you to take the chance on him. You deserve to be with someone who is strong and complete – someone who can give you their whole being, wholly and unreservedly – not someone who is afraid of showing weakness, for fear of you leaving him broken-hearted. Someone who would actually have the capacity to love you like you should be loved. Not a broken, shattered shell of a Prince that could only ever give you pieces of his heart that are full of cracks.

Why the fuck does his chest hurt just thinking about the fact that you would be better off without him? It feels as if someone were stabbing his heart repeatedly, and no matter what he does, the wounds refuse to close and the blood continues to ooze through the cracks. He stares up at the dark ceiling of his dorm room as a single tear rolls down his cheek for the first time in years as he tries to cope with this excruciating feeling of hopelessness, despondency, and despair. The fear that you will one day be gone from his life grips his soul, his heart pleading with him to simply confess, yet his twisted mind forces him to remind himself of his inadequacy. What a sad, pathetic sight you would see, the once fearsome lion, pitifully pawing at your ankles as his heart poured itself at your feet, praying for the warmth of your love and the validation of your approval.

💛 Leona who is pining after you… hates how obsessed he is with you and your opinion of him. Every day he finds himself trying to be better because you make him want to try harder to make the world a brighter place. Maybe you're right, maybe he doesn't need to be King in order to lead people and do great things. Because of the friendship you two have nourished, he finally feels comfortable opening up to you and talking to you about what he's going through: his past, and how much he truly cares about everyone's safety, success, and overall happiness – a sentiment that's foreign to everyone who's ever known him in the past. Although he still can't bring himself to vocalize his emotions aloud, you now truly understand the message his eyes are always trying to relay, no matter how small the glimpse: even if he was destined for a fate in the shadows, his biggest hope is to someday become the leader he was supposed to be. His newfound vulnerability allows you to slowly chip off the armor that guards his heart and bring him peace, healing his wounded spirit. Because of you, he now understands what it feels like to be valued and treasured by another, and he feels empowered enough to put the effort into doing something to change his future for the better. It scares him how badly he wants to impress you, wanting you to be proud of how he's matured.

Before taking on the daunting task of bettering his Kingdom, he starts with something small – making a positive difference in your life. You actually make him feel useful. He loves the way you look up at him with admiration. He knows now that one of the reasons he fell for you so hard is because you always ask for his advice – knowing damn well he's the smartest person in this godforsaken place – and you actually take it. You listen to him and you value his opinions. Seeing things work out for the better when you take his advice and enact his plans gives him a rush of pride and confidence. It motivates him to keep working hard to have good ideas that benefit the world. He's always enjoyed helping people even though he's bad at putting it into words, or showing his true intentions, instead preferring to keep people guessing while he hides behind his indifference and nonchalant attitude. But now, thanks to you, he finds that the more time he spends caring about helping the people around him, the more understanding and honest he is with himself, the happier he becomes. He's feeling more confident stepping up to the plate, having less fear of letting himself or the other people he cares about down.

He started feeling honored to be the housewarden for Savanaclaw again and he actually takes the responsibility seriously, tackling issues and standing his ground with the students and teachers. He wants to set an example for others, making you proud of his actions by raising his standard. When it comes to issues in the school and within his territory, he's calm and diplomatic as he addresses issues – making sure everyone is heard and everyone walks away satisfied. No longer is he plagued by a lack of enthusiasm to make real, significant changes. He now genuinely enjoys himself, striving to go beyond his expectations to overcome his shortcomings, always pushing himself to think outside of the box. It's like the Leona of his past no longer exists, and he doesn't feel any resentment or shame at the thought, simply believing it's for the better that he finally has the strength to make room for a version of himself he can enjoy instead. Because of your guidance and patience with him, he’s slowly learning to no longer fight his introspective nature, instead choosing to work hard every day to embrace all aspects of himself – whether they be negative or positive. Every day is far from perfect, but he's allowing himself the respite of leaning on your shoulder, even though for now, it’s just as a friend and trusted ally, not as a lover. For the first time, he's happy with where his life is going and the person he is becoming. Through this whole experience of falling for you, he learned that there are still things worth fighting for, regardless of if you one day soon reciprocate his feelings or not. At least, that's what he keeps telling himself.

I was nervous to write this because we all know that canon Leona leaves much to be desired when it comes to his story and the complexities of his character. I've spent over a year of loving him, meticulously crafting who I think he is and who I want him to be. Most days, I'm pretty sure Leona Kingscholar is just a character who exists solely inside of my mind, completely separate from the source material. So, if this resonates with you, I am very glad! Thank you for reading. I hope I was able to bring justice to my beloved Leona! If you would like to see this series with another character, please let me know. 💛 Erica Malleleothreesome

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar smut #twst leona #twisted wonderland leona x reader #leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland leona #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar angst #my writing

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azullumi · 4 months

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trying different types of kissing with scaramouche?💔 like forehead, neck kisses, hand or anything at all....

“say yes to heaven” ; wanderer/scaramouche

summary — ultimately, he really does just want to be loved, behind the many layers of him to hide all that yearning and longing. but how can he say it when love, for him, was a synonym to forgiveness; alternatively, different kisses with him, with each one signifying a progressing relationship.

pairing — scaramouche/wanderer (w/ gender-neutral reader) ; could imagine this with either but i wrote this with wanderer in mind

tags — established relationship, fluff, a little bit of angst, not proofread, 1.1k ; ficlet

note — i needed an excuse to write a fic that is just all about kissing him and also comforting him (but still, i hope u like this nonnieee!!)

i. hand

You hold his hand and press small kisses on his knuckles, a little bit ticklish it was for him but he doesn’t retract. The feeling of it makes something in his chest ache with an unfamiliar sensation, and he knows it’s not his heart because he never had any.

You kiss the back of his hand, an intimate gesture, like devotion, like he was something—or someone—that should be adored.

“I am no god.” He was no deity to be worshiped so why are you so gentle to him? He wasn’t made of glass nor is he fragile; he was born from ashes of a burned home, he was carved out of war and winter storms and everything that you could ever pray against, he was a symphony composed of nothing but bad luck and conflicting melodies—he was not the kind people would choose to be around, much less adore.

And as if you bear a part of him in your mind, you understood what he was trying to say, could hear the questions that tormented him, could see the conflicted look on him as he looks at you with a gaze that seems to scrutinize your being when only he is looking for an answer. He tries to look for a crack, a gap in your expression, so that he can look through it and see what you’re really thinking.

“You don’t have to be one to be loved.” You press one last kiss on his hand just as you finished speaking, looking up to him. Indigo blue orbs met yours in a gentle gaze, eyes filled with affection only for the other to drown in. If he could put all that he was feeling, all that he was asking and seeking an answer to, into a simple word, it all condenses to: why?

“Do you still have doubts?” You ask, despite knowing the answer. He opens his mouth only to close it again, looking for the words that he should say but chose to be silent instead. And you smile—not a beaming grin nor a subtle paint on your features, but something gentle and comforting as if you’re assuring him: it’s okay, I understand you. I know you.

“You’re not unloveable.”

Loving him wasn’t the hardest thing to do, it came to you naturally as if breathing but the man thinks otherwise. A burnt child who loves the fire will only hear the fact that he is loveable, people just choose not to.

“How do you know that?” You know him well enough to hear the way his voice trembles at the effort to allow himself to be vulnerable. Long was the fall of the tall and formidable walls that he built around him.

“You’re not unloveable.” You repeat, taking hold of his fingers to kiss his hand once more. “Am I not enough proof of that?”

ii. forehead and cheeks

You cupped his cheeks and kissed his forehead, an unspoken language of tenderness in which he took a long time to understand. When love and affection has finally been given to him after decades of yearning, he’s unsure of how to hold it in his hands—does he gently hold it with both? Every bit overwhelms him to the bone, the gratifying yet intense feeling seeps through his being and settles inside of him in a way that it slowly consumes the crevices of his mind, until all that is left of him is nothing but a starved man who only longs for the feeling of your skin against his own.

There was a flicker of warmth in his expression and he closed his eyes as he relished in your kindness, your hands cradling his cheeks with warmth that coaxed his entire existence, your lips pressing against his forehead softly. Then, you started to pepper his face with small kisses and the man could only surrender to your touch, a dance of vulnerability and intimacy as he crumbled into your hold.

No one has ever come this close to him (a closeness that was a stranger to the pages of his past, a tender note composed solely for him), no one and nothing.

You spoke, murmuring against his skin and close to his lips: “Sunshine.” Humor weaves through your tone, teasing the absurdity of the mismatched title and the man who wears it with subtle grace.

“Don’t call me that.” He snarks yet no bite. It’s ironically funny how you use that nickname on him despite him being the complete contrast of it; he stands as the living paradox of the word itself.

The sound of laughter bubbles up in your throat and you answer, “Why not? It suits you perfectly, don’t you think?”

What else should you call the man who grasps the warmth and tender light in his chest only the sun could give? To be with him was to sit in the autumn sunlight, to sleep in the comfort of your sheets when the rain patters against your window, to walk barefoot on the sand even if it feels like shards of glasses against your sole, to be with him was to simply exist; you’ve never met anyone who had the sun for a soul and he has never met anyone who had the stars in their eyes, and while you had the universe etched on the palm of your hands, he has your name engraved on his.

iii. lips

Your lips ghost against his own, albeit in a tantalizing manner, teasing and quite slow—but he wasn’t a patient man.

“Are you going to kiss me or what?” He whispers and you don't waver at his straightforwardness, having been used to this note. There was no hostility in his tone, just pure and raw desperation and desire to feel you.

You could imagine the eye roll he would give you had he not had his eyes closed at the moment, could imagine the frown on his expression while he spoke and could imagine it faltering soon when you finally kissed him, slow as if to savor the softness of his lips and how it reminds you of spring; he could not properly express the warmth on his chest at the thought of how you love him when he still tasted of heartache and war.

You part from him but remained close, foreheads pressed against one another, breathing heavily, and looking into each other’s eyes. You wanted to tell him that you will find him in every lifetime, but the silence between you two was enough to convey such strong affections that you could hear him respond: And I will love you in each one.

(And he somehow finds himself thinking at the same, this is what he deserves. He’d do these, these vulnerable moments where he lays himself bare for you to touch and hold even if you’ll see the scars and cracks on his skin, the falling and getting hurt despite the fear, the burning and constant searching for something, he’ll do it all over again—if it’s you.)

If someone were to ask him what forgiveness tastes like, he would utter your name—everything that he has ever longed for came in the form of you. And he fears that this longing will last forever even while you’re here, that this longing will grow even when he crumbles to dust, that this longing will outlive this body and weave life into the earth that swallows your existence.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche x you #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche imagines #scaramouche x reader #wanderer scaramouche #genshin wanderer #genshin impact wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer fluff #wanderer genshin #azul.writes

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sundrop-writes · 6 months

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if Mike fell asleep with you...

Word Count: 750

Horror Characters Masterlist

Warnings: this is mostly pure fluff - Mike and the reader are in an established relationship, the reader's gender is not described in any way (the main pronouns used are you/yours), Mike calls the reader angel, the reader takes on a caregiver role for Abby, mostly just short and fluffy. This is set before the main events of the movie, when Mike is working as a security guard at the mall.

A/N: So, I've seen so many people in the tags going 'just let him sleep!!! that man is so exhausted!!' and saying that he's too tired to fuck in the way that people are writing fanfics about him. And as much as I love super horny fics, I do thought this up, because I agree - the man should be allowed to sleep. This is largely inspired by that scene in Grey's Anatomy where Meredith walked in and Owen was asleep on Cristina's chest while she was reading a book (I think it was when she was reading through Mer's mom's diaries?) - anyway. I love that scene so much because it shows how easily he sleeps around her because he's so comfortable around her. And that's why it deeply inspired this. Let him sleep.

...

Mike was exhausted when he came in the door.

He heaved out a sigh as he closed the door behind him, toeing off his shoes - pure, stiff tiredness radiating through his whole body in the worst way.

You knew that sound anywhere.

“Long day?” You inquired gently from your position on the couch, lightly craning your neck to look at him.

He shuffled further into the house in an almost zombie-like fashion, only giving you a solitary grunt in response.

You felt kind of bad that he had been stuck at work late when you had been lucky enough to have a morning shift and been treated to a relaxing evening with Abby. She was a relatively easy kid to take care of, and generally fun to be around.

And after you had put her to bed, you laid out on the couch, relaxing and reading a novel that your friend had recommended. Generally, you were having a nice evening. And it seemed that Mike was not.

As you kept an eye on Mike, you folded over the page of your book to mark it and put it on the coffee table for later.

“Dinner’s on the counter.” You told him. “I made lasagna. I can heat it up for you if you want.”

You hated that before he started dating you, all he knew was freezer burnt crap - but you were slowly showing him how to cook, and a world of vegetables that didn't come in a can.

Mike took off his jacket and the heavy belt he had to wear for work (his large walkie talkie and his taser were in his locker at work, as mandated, but the thing was still damn uncomfortable) and he hung them both up.

He didn’t respond to your queries about dinner as he walked around the couch. Instead of speaking, seeing you laying there so relaxed - the sight was all too inviting, and he eased himself to lay on top of you in a form of very natural intimacy before he grunted a few words into your neck.

“Did Abby eat?” He asked softly as he laid on top of you.

It was oddly comforting to have the bulk of his weight on top of you, especially as he melted against you, letting out a small moan as the tension melted out of his bones. He adjusted himself to get more comfortable and his face rested against the softness of your chest - you glanced down to see that his eyes were drifting closed.

“She ate two platefuls, and had some peas.” You assured him. “Did her homework, had a bath, and she practiced her spelling words before she went to bed.”

Mike grunted again - a more positive pitch to this one. He couldn't ask for anyone better than you. Sometimes he worried about her - all the time. But when Abby was with you, that worry lessened a lot.

“You’re an angel.” He hummed against your chest. “I don’t-” He let out a gentle yawn. “I don’t know how I got so lucky with you.”

“You look hot in a uniform and my job at the bookstore gets boring.” You replied, half-joking about the circumstances of how your relationship with Mike had formed.

You reached out to him and began running your fingers through his hair, soothing him even further into the realm of sleep with the comforting touch.

He let out another tired moan in reply - something that almost stretched into a rolling sound with the gentle pleasure of your hand in his hair. With the way his body was so slack against yours, his breathing even and quiet, you knew this was only leading one place.

“You wanna go get ready for bed?” You asked gently.

“In a minute.” He answered softly, barely parting his lips to get the words out.

You glanced over to the table and reached out, picking your book back up as his breathing deepened and his body went even more slack. You were preparing to get comfortable for the next few hours. You weren’t all that tired yourself, and you still had a few chapters left to go. When you got to the next chapter, he began to snore lightly and you felt drool dripping down your neck - which didn’t bother you all that much. You found it cute, in fact.

You were comforted by the fact that he relaxed enough around you to get such a good sleep. You knew that he needed it.

...

A/N: also, this is my first time posting a fic completely from mobile by copy/pasting something from google docs on my phone. So hopefully the formatting isn't too messed up and hopefully this goes well! And I hope you guys enjoy this short fluffy fic 💖

#sundrop writes #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #five nights at freddy's movie #five nights at freddy's #fnaf fanfiction

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gaphic · 3 months

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ok this post got me thinking - and this isn't really a criticism, bc the point it's making still stands - I don't think this description is quite accurate. if teens were allowed to figure out their heterosexuality they'd be getting het sex ed, not no sex ed.

in this context, 'heterosexuality' ISN'T a sexuality. it's a gender role. it's not about pleasure/desire/attraction, in fact, those things are considered deviant even within heterosexuality. a man moaning during sex or wanting his nipples played with is 'gay' even if it's with a cis woman. a woman expressing any SHRED of sexual availability is shameful even if it's for cis men.

sexuality is still dirty for cishet people. men and women aren't even supposed to like eachother! have you noticed that? that the more a person elevates heterosexuality, the more they tend to hate the opposite sex? how the most homophobic men also seem fundamentally grossed out by women? how the most homophobic women seem to view men as animals?

conservatives do not think women should be attracted to men or vice versa. they think that having a husband and bearing him children is what makes you a woman and having and impregnating a wife is what makes you a man, and THAT'S what teens are allowed to do. you will never be allowed to be sexual, but you are never too young to perform gender roles.

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rosequarzo · 10 days

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i hope u don’t mind squeezing this lil request in ur inbox ˖ ݁ . ࿓ how abt aventurine coming home from work & clinging onto u like a koala ?? i imagine him being so clingy & tired after work — so he just wants to cuddle w u :< take ur time if you’ll be writing this !! tysm ❤︎

koala cling.

૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა • ! aventurine + reader reader is gender-neutral established relationship domestic fluff tooth-rotting fluff one pet name used usage of aventurine's real name ☆ warning not proofread . . . !? & 580 — catalogue

note. hi bambi!! hopefully you're doing well and of course i don't mind your request <3 this was really cute to write so i hope you enjoy it^^ stay safe xoxo

Whenever people hear the name Aventurine, their first thought of him was that he was an arrogant man, part of the IPC and part of their management too. He appears charismatic, egoistic and someone who loves to take risks. His motto “High risks comes with high rewards” is something he holds close to his heart.

It is also a common sight to spot him spending time in casinos, gambling to his heart’s content and as always, emerging as the rightful winner. But in the comfort and privacy of your shared home, he sheds his facade, tossing them to the side like a snake undergoing shedding.

When it’s only you and him, he is nothing more than Kakavasha. What Kakavasha yearns for is peace and quiet as he savors your presence that has become a huge part of his life. No one is able to witness this side of him. No one except you.

“I’m home,” your ears picked up the familiar sound of Aventurine followed by a pair of approaching slow and heavy footsteps.

You weren’t granted enough time to turn when he hugged you from behind, arms easily wrapping themselves around your waist. Aventurine rested his chin on your left shoulder, observing you as you efficiently sliced the vegetables into thin slices. Goosebumps formed on your skin when he pressed a kiss on the back of your neck and you were certain he was aware of the effect he had.

“How was work today?” You asked, breaking the silence.

You heard a dramatic sigh before he replied in a whiny tone; a tone that never fails to make you smile. “I had to go and chase people for their late payments, followed by countless meetings and Ratio was being mean to me! Seriously, he should learn to relax once in a while and join me to get a drink.”

The thought of the stiff and rigid doctor acting drunk made you sniggered. You had to waddle over to the stove to cook as Aventurine was showing no signs of letting you go; not that you mind.

“Well, you know how he is. Did you encounter any difficulties today?”

Aventurine buried his head in the crook of your neck, his words slightly muffled.

“Nope, everything was smooth sailing for me. But, I miss you.” His last three words sounded akin to a whine and it made you laugh.

“You know you have to go to work, Kakavasha. At least you can still come home to me,” you answered, jumping when he playfully poked your sides. His action elicited a light-hearted glare thrown his way but he merely grins, leaning in to kiss you on the corner of your lips.

“You’re right, now how about you stop whatever you’re doing and cuddle with me, please?” He pleads, going all puppy eyes and even pouting as a further measure.

And who were you to say no?

You nodded, smiling when he made a noise of happiness and allowed yourself to be eagerly dragged to the couch in the living room. You laid down, opening your arms and Aventurine wasted no time in making himself comfortable above you. You wrapped your arms around him, acting like a shield to protect him from the world and gently brushed your hand through his hair.

“Rest, my dear Kakavasha. You deserved it,” you whispered, seeing a faint smile formed on his face as he slowly escapes to the land of dreams, with you following shortly after.

#୨୧ magazine articles #honkai star rail #star rail imagines #star rail x reader #aventurine imagines #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #aventurine fluff

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pepsichrry · 2 months

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Touch Me || Regulus A. Black

Summary: You and Regulus are best friends and have been since childhood, every moment you spend is together, even ones that aren’t so platonic…

Set during the Marauders Era!

Warnings: Smut, Sexual Content, Innocent!Reader, Innocent!Regulus, Best friends to Lovers? kind of, Virgin!Reader, Virgin!Regulus

Rosier!Reader

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It was a dreary spring evening in the library when you and Regulus sat studying for your upcoming Potions exam. It was also when you’d decided to bring something up that you never had before.

As you were both approaching the end of your fifth year at Hogwarts, it wasn’t uncommon for people to start getting into relationships. In fact, couples seemed to be everywhere you looked, kissing, touching and giggling together. You couldn’t help but be jealous. As a Rosier and a respectable young Pureblood girl, you were expected to stay far away from the opposite gender, and therefore stay a virgin until you were inevitably married off. Of course, these rules had been broken by other Purebloods, like your brother Evan, but not you, nor your best friend, Regulus Black.

Regulus sat opposite you in a secluded corner of the library, the sun breaking through the window panes and casting a heavenly glow over his pointed features. Beneath the table, your ankles interlocked as yours bounced lightly, but Regulus didn’t seem to be affected, he never was.

“Reggie.” You blurted, not wanting to hold your thoughts back any longer. His pretty grey eyes didn’t look up at you despite the call of his nickname that only you were allowed to call him, he only hummed in acknowledgment as his quill kept scribbling against his parchment. You continued. “Do you think that I should date somebody?”

At that, Regulus frowned, slowly lifting his head to look at you, a hint of disgust over his face.

“Why would you want to do that?”

He asked incredulously. You knew that you two were closer than most best friends tended to be, as Evan so kindly reminded you every time he saw the two of you together, but Regulus made no move to suggest that he wanted anything more than a friendship with you, so you figured the idea of a boyfriend would be okay.

You smiled bashfully. “Well, lots of my friends have been getting into relationships and telling me how great it is. I can’t help but feel I’m missing out.” You informed him quietly, mindful of the somber atmosphere of the library.

He frowned further, inky lashes meeting his brow. “Missing out on what?”

You looked down at your book, starting to feel shy at the question. There was lots that you were missing out on. You shrugged, feeling your neck grow hot.

“I dunno, like hanging out and talking and touching. It just all seems so nice.” You admitted half of your thoughts, looking up at him again.

Regulus shook his head dismissively and looked back down to his parchment before continuing his writing. “You don’t need a boyfriend for that! You have me and all of your other friends to do that.”

You laughed lightly under your breath. “I know that, but there are other things.” You tell him, finding his obliviousness sweet. You knew that Regulus was pretty much a genius, a true master at everything he did and tried, but Merlin, how he was stupid. Especially when it came to people.

“Like what?” He scoffed, quill etching a little harsher now.

“Like kissing, and…” You trailed off, making a little noise to suggest what you meant. Regulus’ head snapped up, his look of shock almost made you ashamed.

A second passed as he looked at you closely. “You don’t mean…” You did.

You knew that Regulus was just as inexperienced as you in the matter of sex, but you never knew he’d be so shocked at the mention of it. By the look of his face and the shade of pink he was turning, you began to think bringing up the idea was wrong, maybe it could have stayed between you and your girlfriends.

You gave him a guilty look and he placed his quill down onto the table, recoiling.

“Dove!” He hissed. It had always been his nickname for you, ever since you were young. Now, it nearly sounded like a term of endearment.

“Reggie, it’s really not that outrageous to want to try it.” You told him, but he wasn’t having it.

“It is! You’re a respectable young woman, you shouldn’t want for some boy to take your purity.” He took your hand, resting his warm palm over your knuckles. “You’re too good for that, Dove.”

You knew he was right. You didn’t want to regret anything that you did or lose your virginity to the wrong person, but you wanted to experiment, to be a normal teenager instead of worrying about what your mother would think. You knew she’d have a heart attack if she found out what your brother got up to in his spare time.

“I know, but plenty of other Pureblood girls have done it. Merlin, Evan has even done it!” To that, Regulus made a face of disgust.

“He has and he shouldn’t have. The Rosier name is worth more than some experimentation.” Regulus shook his head, you truly hated to see the disappointment in his eyes when he looked at you.

You sighed. “And what about the Greengrasses? All four of the sisters have slept with someone! Nothings happened to them.”

Regulus retracted his hand, folding his arms in front of him like a teacher reprimanding a student. “The Greengrasses are nowhere near our standing, Dove. We are better than them, you are better than them.”

He was right again. Rosiers and Blacks were far more important than the Greengrasses, it was just common knowledge. Your family name would be slandered in High Society if anybody found out that you’d lost your purity to anyone, the Greengrasses didn’t suffer the same issue, fortunately for them.

“I suppose you’re right.” You agreed, sinking back into your seat.

“I am. You’d be best not to mention it again, Dove.” Regulus said, looking back to his parchment and continuing like the conversation had never happened, the only trace of it being the pink dusting his cheekbones and your own memory of it.

You did wonder why Regulus was so dismissive of the idea, you had been taught the same things by your parents and had similar thoughts and experiences, so how come you both disagreed on something like this? Was it just because you were influenced easier by hearsay than he was?

“Reggie.” You called again, and he hummed, again. “Aren’t you curious about what it’s like?”

The question made him sigh and press his quill firmly down onto the table.

“No, and you shouldn’t be either.” He scolded you, flipping his potions book shut with his incomplete essay inside. “Now come on, we need to get to dinner.”

Nothing more was said as the two of you collected your things and exited the library. But that wouldn’t be the end of it.

The next time the subject was brought up was when you were lying on Regulus’ bed as he read.

It had been a week since your conversation in the library, and it hadn’t been discussed since, you were too worried about what Regulus would say. His tone alone made you feel sheepish about your questions and ideas, so you wished to avoid any further reaction from him. Except this time, he was the one to bring it up.

“Dove?” He said from beside you, gently closing his book and resting it flat against his chest.

“Yeah?” You replied, turning your head to look at him, but his eyes were trained on the ceiling firmly like he was avoiding your gaze.

He drew his bottom lip into his teeth, gnawing as though he was nervous. Finally, he spoke. “Why were you speaking to Avery in the common room today?”

Avery had come to speak with you about your astronomy assignment that you’d been paired with each other for, but the conversation lead pleasantly to recent gossip travelling around school. You found him to be good company, albeit a little dull.

“He just came to talk to be about our astronomy homework.” You answered honestly, playing with your fingers that were folded across your stomach.

Regulus hummed. “Really?” He asked, turning his head to you.

“Yes.” You frowned.

He looked at you closely, stormy eyes circling your own as though he was searching for any hint of a lie in your words. Suddenly, he pushed himself up, off of the bed and started towards his bookshelf. You sat up, watching him move away from you. After waiting for a moment for any sort of conversation from him about the subject, you decided to speak first.

“Why do you ask?” You drew your legs up to your chest and rested your chin against his knees. You weren’t blind to when something was bothering him, usually he would keep it to himself until he exploded, but sometimes, he just needed a small push in the right direction and he’d let loose.

You watched his back straighten as he took in a breath.

“I was worried that maybe you were considering him…” He turned to you, and upon seeing the confusion on your face, he added, “…As your boyfriend.”

“What?!” Your face scrunched up. Why on earth would you want to date Avery?

Regulus scratched at his forehead, shrugging slightly awkwardly. “I just thought… After our conversation in the Library…” He trailed off quietly.

“You thought that I’d want to date Avery?”

“Well, maybe not date but-“ He cut himself off, eyes widening as though he had realised what he said. He quickly turned and busied himself in the bookshelf behind him. He didn’t dare to turn and see your face.

Of course, that wasn’t originally your intention, he just wanted to talk about astronomy, but you couldn’t help but think of it once or twice whilst you were talking. You wouldn’t have gone through with it, but you couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like. And as always, Regulus knew you too well. And he knew he was right too, he was just too embarrassed to mention the act.

“Regulus-!” You began, desperate to defend yourself, but he snapped abruptly.

“You wanted to, didn’t you?” He looked at you, eyes wide. You opened your mouth to speak, but once again he cut you off. “With Avery of all people?”

“I wasn’t going to do anything! That wasn’t my intention, I’m just curious.” That much was true. You wouldn’t let Avery anywhere near you if it came down to it, but you thought about it, what he’d be like when he took his clothes off, what he’d feel like, what he’d sound like. It was vile and perverted, but you couldn’t help it. Not when the idea had been put into your head.

“Well you need to stay curious! Don’t you realise how stupid you’d be to go through with that with someone like him?” Regulus stormed over to his side of the twin bed since you were sat on one side. He avoided your gaze, but it wasn’t out of nerves.

“Someone like him?” You asked.

“Someone who sleeps around as much as he does! Someone who wouldn’t treat you right!” Regulus said, his words filling you with irritation. What would he know about that?

“And you’d know all about that would you?” You scoffed, knowing that he could deny the fact that he’d never been in close proximity with a girl except for you.

His face burned red now, and he looked at you with a mixture of anger and something close to sham. Why should he be ashamed when he was pure, something that he’d been reminding you to stay being?

“I know far more than he does about treating you well.” He sat back against the headboard, a bitter sneer on his mouth.

“And how would you know that? You’ve never even touched a girl who isn’t me! What could you possibly know about sex that he doesn’t?” You snorted, amused at his little frown. As much of a dick that Regulus could be, he was still your best friend and he was still adorable to you.

He seethed where he sat, jolting forward in anger to growl in your face. “I may not have whored myself around like he has, but I’ve known you, I’ve touched you, I’ve seen nearly all of you. I know every part of your body, that’s something that he’ll never know like I do.”

You shook your head, a smile on your face. “Well, there’s one part he would know better than you if it came down to it.” You reminded him, enjoying the moment of silence that befell you. You knew you’d hit a sensitive spot, but you didn’t care.

Regulus fell back against the headboard, not saying another word and you knew that you’d won. He may have been angry, but it was the price he’d pay for being cocky.

You knew he wouldn’t stay angry at you for long, so you curled up, resting your head on his lap, expecting for him to break his facade. Except this time, he didn’t bring his hand to run over your scalp or untangle your hair, he kept his arms crossed, though he made no move to disturb you, it still felt as though he was rejecting you. You let it be, figuring he’d get over it. Except he didn’t.

“I don’t understand your need to sleep with somebody.” He said finally.

You sighed, you knew well before then that he didn’t understand your thoughts about the matter. “You can’t tell me that you’re not curious.” You smiled slightly at him once you’d turned onto your back to look up at him from where you rested on his thighs.

You glanced down at you but looked away quickly. He shrugged with the shake of his head. “I’m not.”

You heard him perfectly, but something about his tone surely indicated that he was lying. You laughed, bringing a hand up to his face and running a finger over the smooth skin of his cheek.

“Oh, Reggie, you know you can’t lie to me.” You grinned ear from ear when he looked down at you with a stern expression.

He shook his head again. “There’s a difference between being curious and trying to find out.” He told you.

“So you admit that you’re curious! See, you’re no better than me.” You quipped and he rolled his eyes. “You don’t need to keep your curiosity a secret, Reggie, I won’t judge.”

He took in a deep breath and a strange unsureness crossed over his face. It was unusual to see Regulus unsure of anything, he always seemed to know everything about everything. Which was why you were worried you’d crossed a line. At least you were until he began to speak again.

“I- It’s just curiosity, it’ll pass.” He said softly, looking down at you and running gentle fingers over the crown of your head.

“You can keep telling yourself that, but don’t you want to know what it feels like?” You pester him with an answer as the back of your hand goes to nudge at his chest, faintly feeling his rapid heartbeat.

He purses his lips and nods so faintly that if you weren’t paying full attention, you’d miss it.

“So why don’t you try?” You ask simply.

His eyes shoot down to you, oddly calm as his chest rose and fell heavily.

“You know I can’t do that, and neither can you. There are other ways to go about things.” Your attention peaked at that.

You frowned. “How do you go about it?” Regulus flushed and opened his mouth to protest before you cut him off. “Please.”

He fell silent as he looked over the room as though he was searching for an answer to give you. He was so quiet for so long that you were worried he’d never speak again, until he shifted lightly under your head and you watched as he swallowed and how his adam’s apple bobbed. You often forgot how much Regulus had grown and how he isn’t the little boy you used to play Gobstones with in his back garden. Now, he was a beautiful man, standing tall and proud like he was supposed to, but you knew him as your Reggie, he was still yours.

“I can tell you, but you have to promise not to stop pursuing these things.” He whispered.

You sat up, facing him now. “I promise.”

He observed you for a second before nodding. “Do you remember when your mother took us for a walk when we were young? Just you and me.”

You frowned, there were lots of times that she’d take you two out whilst your father was teaching your brother duelling tricks. Regulus continued despite your evident confusion.

“She told us why we weren’t the same, because when we used to take baths together we knew that we didn’t look the way the other did.” He explained simply, as though he was talking to a child.

“Regulus, I know you have a dick and I don’t, I don’t need to be reminded.” You said, scrunching your face up in embarrassment at the idea of Regulus having to give you a sex talk.

“I know, I know! What I’m saying is that she taught us how they were different and how they can feel.” He said softly, reaching down to play with your fingers. Despite how uncomfortable the conversation was, he didn’t shy away from you or your touch.

You still weren’t catching on. “Yes?”

“We can… Feel good without having to have sex. Or at least that’s what I took from it.” He looked down shyly.

“How?” You asked incredulously. Despite your mother and your friends having told you about sex, you were nearly entirely clueless, which is how you were supposed to stay according to Pureblood Society. And now it was coming back to bite you in the ass.

Regulus stuttered at your question. “Uh- Well, you can… Touch there.” He said, shifting uncomfortably on the bed as he fiddled with your hand.

You looked at him questioningly. “Is that what you do?”

He looked at you, wide eyes and eventually he tilted his head to the side. “I have before. It’s meant to feel like the real thing, but I don’t know.”

“How do I do it?” Your question was abrupt and rather shocking judging by his face, but you tried to ignore the awkwardness that came between you two.

He began to smile, presumably to diffuse the awkwardness that overcame him. “You, uh, have something that feels nice to touch.” He told you, breathing starting to get rapid.

“Where?” You lean in to him like he was about to whisper a dark secret to you.

“I’m not completely sure.” He admitted, looking at you fully now as you were so close to him.

“Show me how.”

He fell silent, staring at you, unmoving.

“What?!” He hissed.

You frowned. “What?” You asked innocently, not seeing any issue with the request.

“I can’t do that!” He drew away slightly, but still holding your hand firmly.

“Why not?” You whined.

He sighed. “It wouldn’t be right, I can’t touch you like that.” He swallowed.

“Yes you can. You touch me all the time! You’re doing it right now.” You remind him.

“That’s different!”

“How? It’s just touching, I’m not asking you to have sex with me, Reggie.” You told him honestly, you knew that he was against the idea of sleeping around.

He watched you for a second. “If our parents found out-“

“They wouldn’t, nobody has to find out.”

You watch his eyes slowly trace over you. You hadn’t been back to your dorm to get changed, so you remained in your uniform as you both hung out in his room. He took in a long breath before he met your eyes again, then, something was different.

He shifted his leg slightly, so that there was a wider space between them. He patted lightly.

“Sit.”

You obeyed, dropping down into the space. You were used to sitting like this with him because of how you both read together, so this felt no different except for the anticipation running through your body. You rested your back against his chest and his chin found the crook of your neck.

You shifted to get comfortable before he spoke again. “Take these off.” He instructed as he ran a nimble hand over your tight-clad legs.

You slipped a hand beneath the band of the tights and slipped them down over your calf’s before he took them from you and dropped them on the wooden floor. He placed a hesitant hand on your thigh.

“Just say the word and we can stop, Dove.” He told you and pressed a kiss on your clothed shoulder. You hummed a quick ‘okay’ in response and his soft hand traveled up slowly to grip at the inside of your thigh. A sudden burst of warmth engulfed you beneath your underwear at the sudden attention on your leg.

He then pressed a wet kiss on your neck and the warmth intensified slightly. Without warning, his cool touch slipped beneath the elastic band of your underwear and began to pull them off. You allowed him to unhook them from over your feet and place them in a small bundle beside him. Your lower half was completely exposed, but not for him to see, he made sure of that to preserve some kind of modesty on your behalf.

He brought his slim fingers to his lips, wetting them with his spit before he brought them down onto you without warning. You let out a shaky breath as his fingers spread moisture over your sensitive folds. It was a feeling completely new to you, but it was welcomed as his fingers focused attention on you, circling and rubbing over an area you weren’t sure of.

You sighed suddenly as he pressed down harder and your feet pushed you back into his chest. His mouth opened slightly, almost shocked that he could spur this reaction out of you. His hot breath fanned onto your neck as he worked further into your pussy.

His finger slid through the steadily gathering wetness around your hole and you felt a strange tinge run through your groin. He ran the slippery wetness over you, bringing it all back up the top of your fluttering pussy. You wet your lips as you watched his perfect hands roll over the flesh gently, and you wondered how he was so good at what he was doing.

“How did you learn to do this?” Your voice surprised even you as it came out desperate and gravelly. He sighed into your neck at the sound before he replied.

“My brother used to tell me how.” It was true, Sirius would come home and regale Regulus with stories of whichever girl he was shagging that week, so it was no surprise to you that he’d picked up some knowledge over the years.

His finger began to circle harder, causing you to let out a mewl, a sound that Regulus liked. You could tell by the way he nuzzled further into your neck with a soft sound of his own.

“Oh my Merlin.” He sighed and you wove your fingers through his dark tresses, pulling him closer into you. You wondered if he liked this as much as you did, after all, he’d never even touched a girl before.

Your mouth hung open, legs spreading further open, allowing him to touch more of you as you opened up for him. Your sounds grew more desperate at the you warmth spread more intensely around you.

“Reggie.” You whined, you didn’t know what to ask him to do. Whether you wanted him to go faster or press harder, you didn’t know. You just needed him to do anything he could.

But what you didn’t expect was for him to whine just the same into your hair as his hand seemed to work on its own. He circled both faster and harder, it was like he read your mind.

His spare arm held you tighter, keeping you taut to him as the warmth spread.

Your breathing quickened and your heartbeat heightened and your stomach began to ache? But that couldn’t be right, it felt too good to be a stomach ache. You called to him again, he had to know.

“Reggie.” It somehow sounded more desperate now. Your hand grappled onto his hair as you grew warmer and warmer. “It feels- It feels strange.” You told him as best as you could.

He nodded into you, fingers still working the same as they were, like he knew how to make the ache go away. He shushed you gently. “I know, I know.”

You cried out, legs beginning to close on their own accord despite how much you wanted to keep them open. You shook, you couldn’t help it, not as the warmth exploded and the coil of aching disappeared into a sweet tang in your mouth and a fog over your brain.

Your jaw hung ajar, like you would scream at any moment, but nothing came out, it felt too good to scream.

With his fingers slowing, you could finally feel sense as your legs dropped apart, tingling from the force of pleasure that captured your body. Regulus placed another array of kisses over you, whispering things that you couldn’t hear as your heartbeat slowed down at last.

“You’re amazing.” He said, now wrapping both hands around your waist as you came to your senses.

You couldn’t reply, you could only make a tiny breathy sound to counter him. You felt him smile against your skin.

“So good.” He breathed against you amongst the rest of his sweet nothings. You lay against him, wet and burning at the same time as he cooed at you. You were sure you could fall asleep against his chest as the minutes went by and you grew sleepier than before. Until it washed over you.

“Maybe Avery doesn’t know that part as well as you do.”

#regulus black #sirius and regulus #regulus black fic #regulus black smut #reggie black #harry potter fic #harry potter #harry potter oneshot #regulus deserved better #regulus black oneshot #marauders #marauders era

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dilatorywriting · 6 months

Note

Congrats on the milestone! It's always a delight to see your stuff pop up on my dash ^.^ I'd love to see prompt 19 from the dialog that makes your reader swoon with the guy of your choice (smut welcome). Hope the bot infestation takes a chill pill!

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 1.7k

Prompt 19: "If you don’t stop looking at my lips without doing anything about it, I will take you right here on this counter."

🌶️ Warning for Mild Spice

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

Vil was drunk.

Or well, Vil was as inebriated as he would most likely ever allow himself to be in any sort of public setting to speak of. Which was still above and beyond what you had ever seen of him up to that point. Which was of course to say that he was still walking effortlessly in his sky-high heels and maintaining every bit of the decorum with which he so usually prided himself. The only reason you could tell the difference at all was because you knew this stupid man better than the back of your own hand. And the loose-limbed ease about him combined with the lolling smirk on his lips was as telltale of a sign as any. Not that you could blame him. Winning any award was certainly an honor. Beating out Neige Leblanche of all people would probably have had him drunk on success even without the literal booze to help him along.

He rolled the half-empty flute of bubbling champagne between his fingers and tipped it towards you like an offering.

“Care to try some?”

You huffed, far too fond to be properly exasperated. “At least one of us needs to be able to drive home.”

And your tolerance was, unfortunately, not great. At least, not for the horrifically potent nonsense that this magic-infused world called ‘wine.’ The last time you’d drank during one of these events you’d wound up nearly beating a rude reporter with his own camera, but thankfully had only had the coordination to call the prying ass all sorts of colorful and very impolite things. (‘Secretly fucking Neige Leblanche’ indeed. Vil hadn’t even asked his PR team to spin that one. Just loudly demanded that your indignation should speak for itself and that any such inquiries into your private affairs would be handled personally in the future.)

Vil snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll be calling for a car either way.”

He tilted the glass again, and you were forever grateful that he wasn’t a sloppy drunk. You didn’t care if he spilled booze all down your front and stained the stupid, too-expensive outfit he’d all but sewed you into, but the fussing that would ensue would be torturous.

“Just a sip,” he coaxed. “I promise you’ll like it.”

You scrunched up your nose and sighed, plucking the flute from his hand. You went to take a small sip and one of those perfectly painted nails reached up to tap irritably at the rim.

“What?” you frowned.

He turned the glass until the other curved side sat at your lips and gave another pointed tap tap tap.

“From here.”

You went nearly cross-eyed trying to stare down at the rim, and with a bit of determination were able to finally pick out the traces of an imprint from the actor’s otherwise impeccably maintained lipstick.

“Are you serious?” you snorted a laugh.

Those perfectly lined lips of his pursed into something that you would dare to call a pout.

“If you’re not going to let me kiss you in public, then you can at least give me this,” he huffed.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, lips still twitching far too much in amusement. “That was your rule. ‘For my privacy,’ you said.”

He waved you off with a scoff. “Please. That was only when we were keeping entirely out of the public eye. I could hardly complain about it now.”

Now, he said. Like he hadn’t graduated from NRC less than a year ago. Like your introduction into his world of stage lights and red carpets hadn’t all been meticulously curated and released only a month or so prior. You blinked, a bit owlishly. And then decided to indulge his petulance and took a neat, slow slip from right where he’d tapped. Vil was always honest, brutally so. He had no compunctions about telling you what he wanted, when he wanted it, and how it was going to happen. So it wasn’t like the touch of alcohol swimming through his system was going to make him more truthful, just… perhaps more loose with it, it seemed. Less manicured, in his speech.

The model looked endlessly pleased and reached out to snatch the glass back. He lifted it back to his own lips—carefully placed, just as he’d demanded of you—and took a long drag.

“There,” he grinned, all smug satisfaction. Like tricking you into an indirect kiss was any sort of accomplishment to begin with. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You were going to burst out laughing, and someone was going to get it on camera, and Vil’s stupid assistant would never let you live it down.

“I guess not,” you hummed. “How much longer, do you think. Until we can go home?”

Vil took another sip, drinking down the last drops of the sparkling concoction. He deposited the empty glass on a passing server’s tray and turned on you with a sharp smirk that was far too wide and far too wine-warm.

“That anxious to get me alone, darling?”

Oh he was really gone.

You grabbed his hand and hauled him towards a more secluded alcove. Because he hadn’t exactly shouted that, but enough curious heads had turned your way that you weren’t going to chance it. ‘Exclusive after party,’ your ass. No reporters didn’t mean no wandering eyes and ears. And he may have been punch drunk enough not to give two shits, but his PA would certainly make the two of you ‘care’ come morning.

“We’re in public,” you hissed, cheeks dark and ears warm. “Don’t say things like that!”

“Oh?” he crooned, stopping in his tracks. You gave another tug but it was useless. Stupidly towering height aside, Vil was all lean muscle and stubborn determination. If you were moving him at all, it was only because he was humoring you enough to step to your demands. “But that’s what you are, isn’t it?” He leaned forward and you could smell the pop of alcohol off his tongue. “Or at least, you certainly act the part of ravenous lover well enough.”

“Really,” you snapped, hushed. “If you’re going to be like this, do you have to use those stupid lines on top of it?”

“Stupid?” Vil frowned, and his fuzzy gaze focused into something sharp. “Your reactions don’t normally imply that those ‘lines’ leave much to be desired.”

You could feel your ears going hot as coals. “Yeah. Well. In the moment is a lot different from—we’re not talking about this right now!” you squawked. “Your assistant is going to kill me if she finds out I let anyone hear you like this.”

Vil snorted and pulled you the rest of the way into the alcove. “She would never. And besides, it’s my prerogative to say whatever I wish,” he finished on something that was nearly a pout. His lips pressed into a firm line, determined. “Should I try again then? If you thought that one was so stupid.”

“Vil—” you hissed.

“Hmm,” he mused, deliberate. And then, “How about this one, then. All of the accolades in the world couldn’t compare to the sound of my name, cried from your lips.”

You squeaked and ducked your head against his shoulder, fingers digging into the too-expensive fabric of his suit.

“No?” he cooed, a bit of that familiar, mocking, edge curling over the word. And you were left to wonder if he was really that drunk after all. “Let me try another. As much as I enjoy those cries, I think I like the whispers even more—every part of you of that whispers temptation,” he recited, far, far too warm, “as if the Gods made you just to ruin me.”

“Would you please just—” you squawked, mortified and melting from head to toe. You were about to remind him again, plead nearly, that they were still very much in public. But then a thought shot off in your head like a lightbulb clicking to life. “You like this,” you hissed at him, accusatory.

“Like what?” he droned, crowding you against the wall. It was dark in the little corner, quiet, but not nearly enough to blot out the low hum of conversations and clinking of glassware just a couple dozen feet away.

Vil dug his fingers into the fabric over your hips.

“It does have its appeal, doesn’t it?” he hummed against your neck and you could feel your blood buzzing beneath his curling lips. “No one to see you, certainly. But everyone will surely know,” he drawled. “That’s the world of show business, I’m afraid. All subtle implications, people whispering about us under their breath.” His hands twisted, bunching up the edges of the crinkling satin. “I’m sure even Neige will hear, eventually.”

“Is that it?” you hissed, biting back a horribly, high pitched little squeak. “You’re still mad at what that reporter said?”

“Of course not,” Vil said, with all the cadence of a well-seasoned liar. “The gossip mongering of one, moronic pest is hardly a problem.” He leaned closer, pushing a leg forward to slot between your. “But I have eyes, darling. And I can see that little rat’s lingering far too long where they shouldn’t.”

You reached up to slap a hand over your mouth and bite into your palm to quiet whatever embarrassing nonsense you would have tried to reply with. Or, well, if you’d managed to reply at all.

“I know you’re anxious to get home, darling,” he droned against your collarbone. You could smell the fizzy remnants of champagne all in your nose. “But this is my party, after all. We’ll have to wait to call for a car for at least another hour,” he apologized, not sounding particularly sorry at all. “That said,” he continued, grinding harder, “if you don’t stop looking at my lips like that without doing anything about it, I might just have to take you right here against the wall.”

A pause, as he canted his head. A soft mess of pale bangs falling over his lidded eyes.

“And there is a very lovely private changing room with a lock just down the hall.”

“…okay,” you squeaked, and Vil grinned—pulling back to wrap an arm around your waist and lead you along. Gait steady and composed as always, and just the barest hint of the wine-warmed-boldness curling over his lips.

#4k Event #twisted wonderland imagines #twst x reader #Vil x Reader #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #My Writing #Writing Prompts #Vil Schoenheit

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merakiui · 6 months

Text

long-distance love.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, phone sex, obsession, power imbalance, kidnapping, implied (cyber)stalking, non-con touching, characters written as 18+ note - sea witch, the magicord mod you've had intimate online relations with, is closer than you thought.

Sea Witch is a busy man.

His weekly schedules are almost always packed to bursting, each event meticulously arranged into open slots as if aiming to form a perfect puzzle. Times never conflict; he’s particular about how he spends his hours, and very rarely does he allow himself a break. It has always been work, work, work. He’s one of the city’s most affluent, eligible bachelors and yet he’s married to his business. Those who lust after him think it’s a wasteful shame. Azul finds it to be a relief far greater than any he’s ever known. He will never compromise the enterprise he’s built from the ground up just because of some flimsy, fickle feelings.

Originally, he had no interest in Magicord, a messaging platform that grants people from all over the world the chance to congregate on specific servers for mutual interests like anime and gaming. He only downloaded it because Idia Shroud, a fellow friend and business partner, lived and breathed the app, his online presence so profound it was almost like a second home. He’d swipe away notifications from his actual messaging app, too busy in a voice call with his group of dungeon raiders to bother answering important calls.

So he resolved to get on Idia’s level in hopes of improving communication. Although Idia’s level, as Azul often noted, was not exactly a place he wanted to be. While Magicord could be used for business purposes, that wasn’t what drew people in. Azul of all people knew very well which target audiences were being reached with apps like Magicord, and he was not one of them.

“To think I’d stoop as low as this,” Azul had once groused over a phone call with Idia, who was giving him quite a lengthy, not-very-needed-but-also-very-much-needed rundown on Magicord’s inner workings. “I hardly have time to play games, let alone socialize on this…app.”

“Aren’t you always going on about how adaptable you are?” Idia sniped back, not in the mood for normie criticism. The sound of clacking keys could be heard on his end. “And you’re the one who asked. Kinda defeats the purpose of learning if you’re just gonna complain.”

Azul rolled his eyes. “I fail to see the logic in downloading another app just to ensure my messages reach you. Honestly, you ought to start checking your email. Or, at the very least, go through your missed call and text logs.”

Alas, Idia had been stubbornly adamant about his preferences and so, much to his displeasure, Azul was forced to undergo something of a Magicord Training Camp until he emerged a pro. And being a pro meant knowing how to navigate his own profile and toggle between that and Idia’s, which was really the only tip he needed because that was all he’d use the app for.

But Azul has always had an innate itch for wanting to know something from top to bottom, inside-out, and the idea of not knowing every little detail about Magicord drove him insane. If there was an opportunity he could capitalize on, why should he risk squandering it with his elementary-level knowledge? So he spent his rare slivers of free time playing around in there, creating a server and wondering who could ever become so attached to an app when the world beyond the screen was filled with just as many, if not more, social encounters.

His introverted side understood the appeal. In fact, he loved the idea of hiding behind a manufactured persona online. He didn’t have to be Azul Ashengrotto on Magicord. Rather, he could rid himself of his dislikable traits and become an entity—an idea or a concept—rather than a flawed man who others might scrutinize ruthlessly.

So he became Sea Witch, and within just a week he’d constructed quite the comfortable server. The invite link was spread throughout the various branches of Mostro. It would provide employees with an online sanctuary, where they could easily connect should doing so in person prove complicated (as had been the case regarding Idia, which was the sole reason he’d even poured so much time into this effort). Most of all, it gave Azul the chance to keep watch from afar, silently sitting in wait and curating a collection of mostly unimportant intel. Mere gossip, if anything.

But gossip is just as good as the next scandal. He likes to be prepared, a razored edge on all sides.

As far as the company was concerned, no one knew who this Sea Witch character was and no one knew who spread the link. And as far as individual employees knew, this was likely just some overworked intern’s labor of love—a well-crafted server intended to function as a digital gathering place for those exhausted after a long day. And that was mostly true, but all of the potential blackmail he could gather, the information he could glean, and even the people he could keep a closer eye on in an online setting—all of that paled in comparison to the real prize he’d attained. This was of great importance. It was something that altered the course of his life, opened his eyes to the brilliant beauty of a first love.

It was there in that undersea-themed haven where he met you, the one who would add flavorful spice to the once bland, boring meal that was his life. And just after a few weeks of simple, cordial conversation, he realized a single taste of your kind companionship wouldn’t be enough to sate him.

Greedy to a fault, Azul wanted you in your entirety.

Which brings him to the present, where he’s currently leaning back into the expensive leather of his driver’s seat. He’s parked on a silent strip of road, in a more residential part of the city. It’s not very busy here, and his windows are tinted to avoid immediate recognition. Rush hour won’t hit until later, and he’s not due for any conferences. He has time. Plenty of it to spare on this little excursion.

“I wanna meet you, Sea Witch,” you admit, nearly whining through the phone. “Where’re you from? Maybe we’re in the same area.”

Azul smiles at your impatience. You just can’t get enough of him, can you?

Every weekend, you hop into a VC with him and chat for hours on end. At first he simply provided a listening ear when you wished to rant through text or call. You’d voice all sorts of complaints. Azul filed them away in the event that they might be useful in the future, initially intending to use such information to ruin you should you prove to be someone worth ruining. But the more he spent listening and scrawling notes on blank paper, the more he realized you were just overworked and struggling financially.

Upon making these connections and learning all sorts of facts from you regarding your life beyond Magicord, he felt compelled to help. Out of the goodness of his heart, of course, ever the benevolent saint. And you weren’t complaining when he offered to pay you for your time. In exchange for two hours of conversation, he’d provide you with the funds you needed to afford your necessities.

Somehow, throughout many months of give and take—with his giving being on the jaw-droppingly exorbitant side, always one to top his own ludicrous generosity—your hours-long conversations would sink beneath the surface of mere companionship. It was one-sided intimacy. Azul was careful with what he shared, building a mostly secretive profile for himself. He didn’t want to risk tarnishing your fondness for Sea Witch by sharing details that felt more like Azul and less like the effortlessly funny, charming, and eloquent Magicord mod you’d originally made contact with.

You didn’t seem to worry about compromising your own privacy, easily divulging a variety of fun tidbits about your life. You’d share the tiniest of details and he’d eat it up every time, hungering for more than just crumbs. That time you sent him a photo of the octopus macarons you’d bought from a local bakery because you were thinking of him? He remembers it well, and he’s constantly reminded of it when you text him about things you did over the weekend or hobbies you basked in. Sending photos of your houseplants, asking him for his opinion on clothes you were hoping to buy (which he was always more than willing to sponsor; all you needed to do was send the link and he’d purchase it), and even trusting him enough to fall asleep in the VC with him (arguably one of his favorite things about your unique relationship).

And he called it unique not because it was a bad sort of strange. Rather, it was unique in the refreshing sense. He’d never had an online friend before, let alone someone who would so willingly and readily indulge him. Granted, this willingness stemmed from the deal he’d cut with you and so you were really only doing these things for your own gain. But then so was he. It was a relationship built upon necessity. You needed money to survive, and he needed you.

So it was okay to fall into sleazy fantasies. It was all an act anyway, and it wasn’t like you judged him or his preferences. At least, not outright. If you did, it was silent. You were considerate and sweet; and you really did consider him a friend. Or so he hoped. If your casual conversations were any proof, it was obvious there was some sort of enjoyment and trust there.

Friendship or something more, he would have you. Whether that meant in the safety of his pocket, enclosed within his mobile phone forever, or in his penthouse, tucked away in his bedroom—he’d have you.

“I’m from a city, yes,” he answers, purposely cryptic.

“Obviously. Come onnn, Witchy. Don’t you wanna meet me, too?”

“I do, and one day we’ll meet. I promise.”

He listens to your irritated groan and his cock twitches in his slacks. Good god, your voice is a blessing—more heavenly than a cherubic choir.

“One day isn’t today, though.”

“Perhaps not.” He speaks to distract you from the rustling fabric of his pressed suit as his hand strays further. He spies his reflection in the rearview mirror, notes the flash in his irises. If only you were here, sitting beside him in the passenger seat. If only he could slide his own seat as far back as it would go, lie still and serene, and let you climb into his lap to spear yourself on his erection. Genuine leather be damned. He wanted your scent, your essence, your everything engraved into the very interior. “Humor me—if we were to meet right now, what would you like to do?”

“Mm, I’d want to get a good look at the man I’ve been talking to for nine months now.”

“Oh, you’ve kept track?”

“You haven’t?” Your laughter is fluffy and light—authentic amusement. “And I’d want to memorize your face so that I’ll never forget it.”

“May I ask why?”

“Because I’m so curious! You know what I look like—”

“Not entirely,” he interjects, sly and silver-tongued. “You’re a portrait half-finished in my mind. Not yet sketched to completion.”

And it’s true. From your shoulders down, you are a faceless beauty. He’s seen you nearly naked and fully clothed, in frills and lace, in latex and ribbons, in satin and chiffon. And yet, for all of the skin you’ve shown, he can’t place a face (or a real name, for that matter) to your body.

“Okay, poet,” you tease, and he’s already palming himself through the fine fabric of his trousers. “But I’ve still never seen an inch of you. You’ve never even sent a dick pic.”

“You’ve never asked.”

“Can I have one now?”

“Nice try.”

“Asshole!” you gripe, clicking your tongue in disappointment. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“I’m aware,” he hums, squeezing himself, his breath coming out faint and haggard.

Yeah, he’s the worst. But then you’re the best at eliciting these sorts of reactions from him. The effect you have on him is utterly enthralling. Your ability to reduce him to a pliable puddle in just a few words—a mere few lighthearted, hollow insults—is truly impressive. He’d feel ashamed of himself if it wasn’t so good.

“You’re probably not even that big.”

“Would you like an exact measurement?”

“Wouldn’t it be better to measure it in person? See how many inches I could fit inside. I’ve been practicing with that dildo you sent me—the one shaped like a tentacle,” you purr, frustratingly coy. He wants your sinful lips wrapped around his dick right now—wants to fuck your throat sore and raw. Wants nothing more than to spill heavy and hot on your tongue so you’ll taste him for days. “If we met up, we could make that happen. Sooo, where’s my Sea Witch from? What part of the world?”

“Patience, angelfish.”

Even though he says so, he’s practically vibrating with excitement as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Soon. So soon. Very, very soon.

And then…

He imagines you rolling your eyes with your next words. “Fine, fine. I’ll be patient. But that’s not gonna stop me from fantasizing.”

“Well, what do you think I look like?”

“Now isn’t that a fun question?” You mull it over. He can tell because you mutter a variety of ums and hmms in that soft, sweet voice of yours. “I think you’re tall and you have a handsome face that matches your equally handsome voice.”

“Yeah?” he encourages, undoing the belt, button, and zip on his pants one-handed. “What else?”

Your giggles filter into his ears, seeming closer than they actually are due to the wireless earbuds he’s wearing. “From what I’ve gathered, you seem to have expensive tastes.”

Sitting in his lavish, one-of-a-kind, custom-made sports car, Azul thinks you would be correct.

“I wonder what gave it away…” he drawls, his voice creeping an octave lower.

He places his phone in the cup holder, reaching to open the glove compartment and retrieving a tiny bottle of lube. Squirting a scant amount on his palm, he fishes himself, throbbing and pathetically hard, out of his boxers. His slick hand is a warm, welcome embrace around his silky-smooth shaft. He sucks in a breath through grit teeth, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Mhm, I wonder. It’s not the fact that you told me I should just buy a designer bag for work when I asked for recommendations. And it’s certainly not your ability to get me lots of nice gifts as if it’s nothing. So maybe it’s just your excessive generosity that makes you seem so rich?”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.”

“Speaking of that, what do you do for a living?”

“Guess.”

“Okay, Mr. Mysterious… Um… Hm. I think you’re a pilot.”

The whiplash that assumption brings is so seismically jarring he thinks he might go flaccid. Gripping himself with renewed vigor, he slides his fist along his length, slow and perfunctory, picturing you under his desk, your mouth open wide to receive him…

“A pilot… Mm, no, not quite.”

“Aw. My second guess was gonna be a contract killer. They make lots of money.”

“You have quite the wild imagination, angelfish. Even if I was one, do you think I’d admit that to you?”

“Maybe,” you tease. He pictures your smirk as it twists your perfect, pretty lips into something wicked. “For the right price, yeah?”

“Oh? Do elaborate.”

Please. Please keep going. Don’t stop talking. I need to hear you, closer, louder, clearer… More.

“What sort of price would I have to pay to get Sea Witch to spill his secrets?” you muse, your voice a tantalizing curl of syllables, but he suspects you already know the answer to your hypothetical. “I can’t offer you money, so you’d have to settle for something a little more…physical.”

He shivers, nodding his agreement even though you can’t see it. “Physical’s good,” he mumbles, foregoing eloquence in favor of filth. “Much better than—mm—than money…”

“Yeah? All right. Let’s see… You’re well-off and you might or might not be a contract killer. Do you wear suits?”

“I do.”

“Ooh, so you’re one of those contract killers.”

Azul can’t help it; he laughs, the sound tumbling out in a breathy gasp. “I prefer looking nice at all times.”

Languidly, his hand continues its idle pumping. He cracks his eyes open to peer at the pre-cum beading at the tip.

“Even if you’re just going to get messy?”

“Explicate the situation that’s leading me to soil my clothes. Details, angelfish.”

“Well, if you’re a killer who wears suits, you wouldn’t like even the smallest stain. It ruins your image, but if it was me…” You pause, probably for effect, and it works. His back arches with anticipation, fingers closing tighter. “You’d make an exception.”

��I would,” he admits far too quickly. “Always.”

“So you really would out yourself as a killer if I spread my legs for you?”

“No, but I’d let you dirty my suits.”

“Good. They’ll look better on the floor anyway.”

His breath hitches. Fuck, your every word is a siren’s song, leading him deeper into mist-clouded waters. He’d keep you pinned on his cock all day if he could. Why should you continue to work your mundane job when you could spend your precious hours with him instead? He’ll be your job. Seven days a week, during each of the breaks he’ll pencil into his schedules, you can visit him and he can empty all of his stress into you. And you’ll take it because you’re such an obedient sweetheart for him, always so ready to please your master.

He prays you can’t hear the salacious squelch of skin on skin as he works himself towards the edge, but a nastier part of him wants you to listen in so you’ll be reminded that this is your fault. No one else can possibly make him this messy. No one else is capable of rendering him a clumsy, lovestruck fool. You’re probably well aware of these facts, having brought him to this same edge numerous times in the past. Sometimes you would reach that tipping point alongside him, your gasps and groans joining his in an obscene duet.

Neither of you decided upon today’s development, but he thinks—knows—you’re intentionally stringing him along. You want this as much as he does.

“So was I right? You’re totally a contract killer?”

“I’m a businessman, angelfish,” he corrects, a silly, drunken smile softening his jaw. You make him feel so stupid, so warm and fond.

“So basically the same thing. Just as ruthless, no?”

“Please, you wound me. I’m always kind.”

“Ah, so there are others who get this treatment? And I thought I was the only one…”

“You are. No one could ever compare to you.”

He intends to tack my love onto the sentence’s end, but he stops himself. You’re not his love. Not really. You’re his angelfish, sure, but that’s different. That’s just a pet name befitting the aquatic theme he masquerades behind. And you’re not really Azul’s. You’re Sea Witch’s.

It’s Sea Witch you know and love. Beyond that, Azul is just Azul. And he’s nothing like the ideal he’s cultivated on Magicord.

He sighs and forces himself out of the turbulent trenches of his withering self-esteem. Now is not the time to contemplate which version of himself you’d be more preferential to.

You’ll have no choice but to love the real him. Soon.

“Really? I feel so special.” Impressed, you whistle and add, “I’ve gotta make you feel special, too.”

“You already have—”

“Not inside the VC. Come on, Sea Witch, don’t you wanna meet me?”

“I do. I really do,” he babbles dumbly, grinding his thumb into his slit and smearing pre-cum. He grits his teeth and tamps down a colorful word. How he yearns for this to be your hand wrapped around his length, tugging him to that far-off finish line. “I want nothing more than to—t-than to see you, all of you, in person…”

“So what’s stopping you? I could do a lot more in person than I can over the phone.” He has a smart reply for that, but it sticks in his throat. Pitifully, like the rightful debauched mess he is, he groans, low and guttural. “Let me turn the question on you, Sea Witch. If we were to meet today, what would you like to do to me?”

So many things, he thinks, a litany of smutty imagery flickering through his head.

But Sea Witch is classy (most days) and today is one of those instances. Or at least he’s going to make an attempt, however weak it may be.

“Take you to dinner,” he mumbles, executing jerky, quick motions in a daze, his cock weeping for release. He throws his head back, peers up at the interior roof of his car, and inhales sharply. “Take you all over the city if it pleases… I’d spoil you with so much finery—dress you up and then tear every article off…”

“And then?”

“And—god, fuck—wanna be inside you, angelfish… So badly—need you so badly. I wanna feel you and kiss you and hold you.”

He’s unraveling, strings pulled taut and fraying to extremity. Azul bucks into his hand and imagines it’s you, tight and warm, a sweet, snug embrace. He opens and closes his mouth, intending to beg you for more, but all that slips out are the tiniest huffs and grunts. He’s so wrapped up in his own ardor that he almost misses your quiet pants, every breath squeezed out of you as if you’re struggling to withhold your gratuitous moans. And it’s deplorable, really, the way his ears prick at these muffled sounds, the way his cock stands rigidly at attention, the way he’s falling through fragments of filthy fantasies, each one so close and yet impossibly far.

“I want you, too,” you mewl, tone wavering between shameless thrill and some sort of seventh heaven.

He wonders what you’re using to pleasure yourself. Are your fingers, slick and curled, rubbing up against those perfect, pretty spots that have you seeing stars? Or are you using the toys he purchased for your enjoyment? Maybe you’re lowering yourself onto the dildo right now, gummy walls clenching around girthy silicone. And maybe you’re tugging at your nipples, massaging them between the pads of your fingers, or maybe you’ve swapped skin-to-skin for a bullet vibrator instead.

Maybe—just maybe—it’s the mere thought of him that sets your flesh aflame with an intoxicating desire.

“And I want you—” you gasp, and his mind travels to all of the risqué photos you’ve sent, each one saved in a password-protected album on his phone— “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything before. I want you to show me that no one else can compare to you. I want you to—mmh, hah—to hold me down in bed and fuck me until my legs are sore and I can’t walk.”

I will, he thinks, lashes fluttering on his cheekbones. He strokes himself quickly, chest heaving, tongue near-lolling out of his mouth as he pants like a hound in heat. I’ll do all of that and so much more. I’ll fuck every coherent thought out of your pretty head, keep you just smart enough to rely on me, turn you into the prettiest sea flower who’ll only blossom for me.

“I promise, angelfish. I promise I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted,” he vows, his nerves alight with lustful delight, “and you’ll never know misfortune again.”

“I—oh! I’m close, so close! Please, Sea Witch! Please don’t stop. Please fill me up and make me yours!”

The sheer vulgarity twined through amatory vehemence, coupled with his own hurried pace, has him tumbling down the slope, arousal peaking and spilling over in thick, creamy spurts. He has half a mind to catch his spend before it can ruin the pristine interior of his car, and he blinks down at the semen sullying his palm. Idly, he rubs his fingers together to test the viscosity, wondering how his fluids would look on your face, your stomach, your ass—or even pooling out of your hole in plentiful amounts.

That fantasy is enough to send blood rushing right back to his softening cock, and he wills those thoughts away with logic—complex calculations and the financial forecast for Mostro. There will be plenty of time to indulge in sexual cravings later. He reminds himself of this while he tamps down his zeal, his heart relaxing in his ribs as he sits with the slowly ebbing aftershocks of orgasm.

You seem to be doing much the same, for you’ve gone perfectly quiet.

“Everything all right, angelfish?” he whispers after a few minutes, his breath now evened out.

“Mm, yeah. All good over here. Messy, but good.”

“I’m comforted knowing we’re in the same boat.” He chuckles while fumbling to dig a cotton handkerchief from the depths of his suit jacket. He cleans the cum and residual lube from off his hands and dick before neatly tucking himself away. Soon, there will be no need for this charade. Soon, he can adore all of you from beyond the screen. “Angelfish, there’s something I’d like to tell you.”

“What’s up?” you murmur, your own voice settling into its usual cheery cadence. He suspects you’re just putting on an act to sound happier. That will change when you’re reunited in person because it will be real. Because there will be no point in pretending through the phone.

“Well…” Azul smiles, folds and unfolds the sodden handkerchief, and then straightens his posture. He should be on his way now. “Ah, it’s nothing. Never mind it. I’ll tell you later.”

“Whaaat? But you’ve made me so curious now. Don’t just leave me in suspense!”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to remain in that suspense indefinitely.”

“Ugh. You’re so annoying sometimes.”

He knows you don’t mean that.

“I’ll tell you soon, angelfish. Exercise a little patience. There’s no rush.”

“Easy for you to say. You know what it is.”

“That I do, yes.” He hums, considering his next words. “Would it help if I left you with a word of advice?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything.”

“Um. Okay, sure. Hit me. What’s your advice?”

Azul buckles himself in, starting his car via push button. It rumbles to life, smooth and steady. “Don’t fight so much, my dear.”

“Don’t what? Sea Witch, what are you talking—”

Your words are interrupted with a startled yelp. Azul listens to the struggle as if it’s a podcast enjoyed at sunrise. Things are toppled in the chaos; something shatters. He catches the beginnings of a blood-curdling shriek before it’s swiftly silenced. There’s more muffled scuffling before, eventually, absolute peace.

It’s broken by Floyd’s petulant whine. “Maaan, Shrimpy was so difficult. Thought you said they were easy, Azul.”

“Understandably so,” comes Jade’s astute reply. “We did catch them when they were most vulnerable.”

Floyd hums his agreement. “Y’know, Jade, Shrimpy’s kinda cute…”

“They are, aren’t they, Floyd?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, perish it right now,” Azul hisses, features twisting into something dark. “Keep your slimy mitts off of my angelfish.”

There’s an unsettling silence. Azul rolls his eyes. They’re fishing for a reaction he refuses to give.

“Clean up whatever mess you’ve made.” He takes his car out of park and eases into drive. “And don’t let anyone see you. It’ll be a hell of a pain if neighbors make unnecessary reports.”

“Yeah, yeah. Heard ya loud and clear.”

“Very well. Farewell for now.”

The call is cut. Azul grips the steering wheel, smug.

Soon waits for him on the horizon. He will not be a minute late.

You wake on a bed, in a spacious bedroom with exquisite floor-to-ceiling windows, many stories up in the clouds. A brightly lit cityscape sprawls beyond the confines of this room, illuminated with the deceptive shine of promise and success. At first it looks foreign. But then you recognize notable buildings, each standing tall and proud amidst the rest, and it occurs to you that you’re in a stranger’s home, in the heart of the big city.

The room itself is plainly colored; it reminds you of a hotel or a room you might find in a real estate catalogue. Perplexed, you sit up and take pause as your unfamiliar surroundings prove to be more frightful than your own confusion.

Pasted to the walls are various printed screenshots from Magicord, each one detailing a conversation of sorts. You stare at the wall behind you, the one in which the bed is currently pushed against, and peer closer at the contents of these messages.

They’re all from you.

Endearing terms you’ve called him in passing. Gentle insults. Lewd flirts. Vents and rants. Photos you’ve sent of very insignificant things—houseplants, meals, clothes. And then there are the photos of your body in skimpy lingerie and cosplay, all taped to the wall like this is some abstract museum of the digital you. The you who, despite being honest most of the time, took solace in the world of Magicord. The you who’d grown close with the mod from that whimsical ocean-themed server. The you who is now trapped, your ankle enclosed in a cuff. There’s a lead that only allows you to meander into the attached bathroom if you so please, and you suspect it’ll pull taut if you try to leave the room.

“What the fuck?” you mutter, your stomach twisting with disgust.

You look down at your clothes—you’re in someone’s collared shirt, intentionally designed to be oversized so that it drapes like a nightgown—and horror prickles your skin.

And then he arrives.

He’s dressed casually in black slacks and a simple white dress shirt, primly tucked in with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. You stare for a long moment, studying his features as his familiarity dawns. Your mouth falls open in a muted scream.

He smiles sweetly, stepping further into the amber glow from the bedside lamps. “It’s nice to formally meet you. I’m Sea Witch.”

But that’s not what’s shocking about this. The real shock—the thing that has your brain stumbling in an effort to put the pieces together before the picture can crumble—is far more jarring than the kidnapping and the captivity. You find your voice then, and before you can stop yourself the words are falling out in a hurry.

“CEO Ashengrotto?!”

Sea Witch—CEO Ashengrotto—stiffens, his brows furrowing immediately. He gives you a sharp, dangerous look. A look that seems to radiate one unspoken question: Where did you hear that name?

“You… You’re A-Azul Ashengrotto,” you continue, swallowing thick trepidation. “CEO of Mostro. You opened a new restaurant last year—Crave, right? And the menu features celebrity favorites—celebrities like Vil Schoenheit and Neige LeBlanche.”

He laughs his disbelief, carding a hand through soft, silvery locks. “How…do you know this?”

“I work there. You visited once with your secretary for quality checks. We even crossed paths.”

Azul gawks, realizes he’s gawking, and clears his throat. “I… I see. Well.” He inhales, holds his breath for three seconds, and exhales. “This makes things rather…awkward.”

“When you said businessman, I didn’t think… I mean, how was I supposed to know? Your voice sounds so different over call than it does in interviews.”

“Of course it does! I never use the same inflection for those things.”

This cannot be real, you think, watching him flounder anxiously. Azul Ashengrotto is Sea Witch. This whole time… Nine entire months… I was talking to the CEO—to the city’s most popular bachelor—and I didn’t even know it. They write articles about this guy! He’s all over the TV! How did I never realize?

And then a very mortifying thought worms its way in: Oh my God. We both know each other’s preferences. He saw so much of me—more than I’d ever want him to see—and I heard too many private things during our calls…

“Let’s just…” You rub circles into your temples to quell the incoming migraine. “Let’s never talk about this again. You can buy my silence and I’ll move on with my life. I’ll even forget all of…” You glance at the Magicord conversations stuck to the wall and then the chain binding your ankle. “All of this…stuff. We’ll agree to call it a misunderstanding and life will be good, yeah?”

The bargain doesn’t seem to reach him. He continues to stare at you, his eyes glazed with an emotion you can’t place. Whatever it is, it’s stormy and dark. You don’t like it, and you shrink away when he steps closer.

“All this time you were right under my nose…”

Azul climbs onto the bed with you, the mattress depressing under the additional weight. Framed by the hypnotic radiance of the skyscrapers climbing heavenward, he’s certainly earned his place in every celebrity gossip magazine you’ve ever read. Articles debating whether he’s secretly committed to a relationship. Articles theorizing what his life plans may have in store for him. Articles discussing whether he’ll ever get married, if he’ll remain single for the rest of his life, if he’ll ever open his heart to the many people who hope to earn his romantic affections.

No one knows it—how could they when he’s so tight-lipped with the paparazzi?—but you are the secret variable the articles have yet to discover. You are the covert partner, the one who has won his heart, the one who now sits shackled on his bed.

What sort of tabloid journalist could ever spin this story?

You scoot further up the bed, your back pressing against the ornately extravagant headboard. Your knees are pulled into your chest, a futile attempt at protection.

“All this time you were so close to me…” He marvels at this, his baby blue hues locked permanently on you. “And neither of us knew. I could’ve had you much sooner had I just realized…”

You blink at him, your heart sinking with every passing second. “Mr. Ashengrotto, what do you mean by that?”

A pout tugs at perfect, pretty lips. “Why so formal, angelfish? We’re much closer than that, surely.” His hands settle upon your knees, gently pulling them apart. Your blood curdles with fear. “There’s no need to be so tense. It’s only me.”

“No… Please wait. Hold on!”

“Hm? If I’m not mistaken, this is what you want. You were rather vocal about your desires. You’ve always been. So why are you looking at me like that? I’m not scary, am I?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Please let me go…”

He clicks his tongue in disapproval, his tone patient despite the subject. “You know I can’t do that.”

“But you… You kidnapped me! Y-You had those guys hiding in my home and they…” You shake your head, unable to describe the sheer terror that had overwhelmed you when those creepy twins descended. Hopeless, you open your eyes to give him your most despairing look. Tears brim in your eyes, threatening to fall at the slightest prodding.

“Oh, my dear, did they scare you? They’re brutes who know nothing of how to treat a person with adequate care. You needn’t worry anymore. I’m here for you.” He cups your face in a fond hold, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your cheek. “Don’t cry, angelfish. You’re in good hands—my hands. And have they not been the most generous?”

“You’re crazy. Obsessed! How can you think any of this is okay? Look around at the walls! You’ve pasted our conversations everywhere—they’re practically the wallpaper!”

“What of it?” His hand slides down to grip your chin, forcing you to meet him at eye level. “I love you. I have for months now. And if those are the ways you choose to classify my care, so be it.”

Tear trails trace down your face. He leans in to kiss the rivers away, but they morph into the saltiest of seas.

“You may not approve of my affections right this very moment. You may hate me, think I’m monstrous, a culmination of all things foul, but you will love me. In due time, my dear. And when you do, the world will open and the chain will come off and you will know freedom under my roof.”

He has the gall to worship you with a loving smile. It poisons you with newly brewing abhorrence.

“So cry your heart out. Scream and kick up a fit. Do what you must. And when the floods subside, we can learn to love one another. Both at our best and our worst, within and beyond Magicord.”

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul #yandere azul x reader #n/sfw

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fl4r3z · 4 months

Text

𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡. 𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

(𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫?)

𝐘𝐮𝐭𝐚 (乙骨憂太) 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Yandere! Yuta Okkotsu, AFAB! Reader, smut MDNI!, Cheating, Cunnilingus, P in V, Jealousy, Stalking, Dark Themes, Somnophilia, Non-con, Dead body, Cum

𝐀/𝐍: Hi my super awesome babies :3 I'm back after dying and i wanna feed you all with a Yuta fic :3 didn't specify any looks for 'boyfriend' so you can insert a character or so!

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▯▯▯▯▯▯ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭? 𝐘𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐞𝐬.

Your eyes were gleaming under the moonlight, looking like beautiful pieces of glass. It had been a month since you and Yuta Okkotsu had broken up with each other. It was late into the relationship when you realized how possessive and manipulative of a man he was.

You and Okkotsu met under the terms of working together. You both engaged a wonderful team, leading to both of you sharing feelings with one another. Yuta was an absolute sweetheart, he'd do anything for you and your sake. He made sure that everything you want, you get. And of course, he gave you an absolute wonderful sex life.

You were blinded by his sweetness and innocent gaze that you didn't realize what troubles were waiting for you. You thought he was everything you had wished for your entire life.

But lately then, you had realized just how possessive he was. And by the means of that, meaning he scolds you for talking to a cashier of an opposite gender. It irritates him, saying only he should be able to look and speak to you. He wants to control everything you do. And that's where everything goes wrong.

Every day with Yuta Okkotsu felt like hours with him ranting about all of the people staring at you, it makes him so irritated. Only he was allowed to admire you. You eventually realized everything and talked to him into breaking up. You could've swore you saw tears streaming down his 'innocent' eyes. He was begging you not to leave him.

But you knew nothing could have changed your mind anymore, you knew you still loved him. But his actions make it so hard to continue your love for him. You hated it.

So then here you were in your apartments balcony, with your so called new 'boyfriend'. Yeah,— you love him, yes. But mostly of the reason was to forget Yuta. You met him when you first moved into your apartment.

But still,— a part of your mind lingers around Yuta. You still couldn't get your mind out of him despite it being a month, and you have a boyfriend already. Maybe you still love him, you've sometimes wondered if he'd already found someone else to manipulate. You often found yourself laying onto your bed often thinking about what Yuta was into right now.

You weren't mindful enough though, the way how Yuta would watch you from your windows, watching every step you make. It makes him sane, you make him sane. He watched you cook, sleep, shower and go so far to even watch you pleasure your self. It makes his cock ache.

Of course, Yuta takes lovely pictures of your body. It was the least he could do. He pastes it on his board, only to see it after waking up. Oh, it makes his cock ache so hard for you. He misses the way your soft walls hugs his desperate cock, because he knows only he could do it.

Yuta had memorized your routine for everyday, like how you act during the day, the time you leave, and even the sound of your floors creaking when you step on them. If people were to be asked about your house, Yuta would be able to answer all of them in less than a second or so.

He thinks watching you is on top of his priorities, he wastes no time when it comes to you.

And that's why he's infront of you, in your room. His eyes were glimmering into the dark room only lit by the moonlight from your windows. Your body was highlighted by tints of the Moon Shine, it was mermerizing, the way your body was so magestic even when done so fucking effortlessly.

He was examining you, and how sweet you seemed like with your body asleep. Oh, how he missed seeing this. He wanted to make you his once again. He wants you around his finger like a puppet. He promises to never let you go once he lays his hands on you again.

He grabs his camera carefully, trying not to wake you. He snaps a picture, adds it into his gallery, — '(Name) (Name) (Name)'. 2,429 photos. Oh if you only knew how much he admires you. You'd never want to leave his side ever again..

"I missed you." He muttered. "And i know you miss me too."

He was slowly approaching your bed, sitting at the edge, engaging your beautiful face. His hands found their way into your thighs, then your lower abdomen. He wants to feel you so, so much, he doesn't wanna hold back anymore.

He looks at you ever so intense with his eyes gleaming lust. He looks at your face, then at your clothed pussy. He moves towards your neck, giving it feather light kisses. Your eyes were fluttering, Yuta hopes that you were feeling him.

He moves towards your lower abdomen, lifting your shirt up, enough to reveal your stomach. He trails his lips against your abdomen, moving towards between your thighs.

Grabbing the hem of your shorts, he pulls it aside, revealing your pussy to him. Turning his face closer, he licks your cunt. He'll never get tired of your taste. Pulling away, he starts pulling your shorts carefully not to wake you up.

He noticed that your eyes were fluttering, he stops, feeling his heart hammering in his chest. He slightly wants you to wake up with him between your legs just eating you out.

He starts gliding his tongue onto your cunt followed by feather light kisses. Hearing you gasp because of his actions makes him ache so hard. Trying his best to contain himself from cumming in his pants, he decides to unzip his pants.

Just the tip right? Atleast to pleasure himself. He unzips his pants, pulling his aching cock out and lines it against the entrance of your pussy. He strokes it a few times then pressing the tip inside.

He could hear you mewl and it makes him ache harder.

You started fluttering your eyes open and your gaze was set into Yuta. "Yuta?! What are you-" You were cut off with him slamming his hands on your mouth.— "Shh, (name) please be quiet.." Yuta mutters in your ears, " just, once please.. "

Yuta thrusted inside you fully, making you yelp muffled in his hands.— "please please let me feel you (name) " Yuta was pleading. But dear god, you were fantasizing about this, albeit having a boyfriend. You couldn't help but think about Yuta.

But of course you weren't going to tell that to Yuta straightly.

Yuta starts to move slowly, making you gasp for the sudden movements. All of his plans were all going accordingly. You'll finally be his again.— He starts gaining the pace, he was whimpering, not loud but enough to hear from the other room.

Yuta’s movements are almost desperate and your skin feels on fire when the pleasure races through you. you hear his own quiet moans, almost lost between smacks and skin slapping noises and your thighs tremble as your hips stutter. Every desperate thrust of his makes your cunt start squelching loudly.

Your back arches, lapping onto Okkotsu's chest. He takes the chance to mark your shoulders. Now they'll know you're his. He takes his hands away from your mouth so that he could hear your pretty voice.

"h-holy shit, Yuu.." your voice was trembling and you were stuttering.

“you sound so, so pretty..(Name)“ he hums before he’s deliberately thrusting on a much faster pace, like he’s trying to force more of those sweet sounds out of you, only for him. He keeps up the same pace and almost whining loudly. "you prefer me m-more than him now right? tell me yes pleaseplease.."

"yes, Yuu!" You could feel yourself about to orgasm sooner or later. It's just too good. Yuta could feel you clench on him so hard, he already knew you were close, so he started pounding faster.

"fuck.. m'close!"— He finishes inside, and you both finished together. He pulls out, and falls stomach flat into you.

"(name)— be mine again. Please!" His pleading was enough to convince you.

But what about your 'boyfriend'? You never knew. He never texted nor greeted you ever since that day. Maybe you felt guilty, but Yuta knows exactly what happened. He just wants to reassure you never find out, or you might stop loving him.

Oh how much Yuta loves you, give him everything he needs and he'll be on his knees, i promise.

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