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#pool slippers
gerardwaist · 1 year
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i'm literally ms. pool boy
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m-an-u · 2 years
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Went out in the rain it was sooooooo nice
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verticallyfat · 2 years
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First pool party and it was super funnn
Already missing it and looking forward to the next event. 😍🎉🤩
#b4itgotcrowded #freeflow #motivatedtotrainforbetterbod
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historiaxvanserra · 3 months
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Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of
Pairing: SingleDad!Rhys x Reader
Summary: After his mate and the mother of his son abandons them, The High Lord and Nyx are left alone and wanting.
Word Count: 3.9k
Warnings: allusions to sexual assault, allusions to depression, abandonment, broken homes (y'know keeping it light, in all seriousness this is not all angst it's quite sweet actually).
I hate making Feyre the bad guy but I promise i'm not making her the villain and I plan to have her side of the story later on (rhys also isn't the villain)
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The sky is painted in hues of lavender and mauve and the flowering ivory clouds shade Velaris in a perpetual state of dusk. The silvery light of the waxing moon seems to cast you in a gentle opal light as you approach the opulent manor. The High Lord’s townhouse is nestled in the heart of the city of starlight and wreathed in the colors of twilight; a slate facade that looks as though it is crowned in green, climbing ivy and night-blooming jasmine frame the large bay windows on the ground floor. From here you can see the large stained-glass window on the top floor, light refracts and it casts a myriad of dancing light onto the stone below-- dappled pinks and roses that fracture and give way to amethyst and indigo.
You spare a look to your aged companion as she breaches the threshold of the High Lord’s residence and, on unsteady feet, approaches the ornate wooden door and knocks thrice. 
You remain for a moment a solitary figure at the entryway of the property, contemplating the series of events that led you here. Mother above, you chastise yourself. The thought occurs to you then, that perhaps you had made a mistake in coming here; that you should have given yourself more time, that you should have remained in the quiet solitude of the library where the world seems like a bitter memory. 
“Come, girl.” Madja’s voice is tired and impatient as she beckons you closer with the wave of a crooked finger. “Don’t just stand there.” 
You swallow thickly, bowing your head in obedience and you notice how her eyes soften as you approach the door tentatively.
“Nervous?” the old woman asks, you feel her eyes on you-- examining and critical.
“A little,” You admit, eyes downcast as you loose a shaky breath, “I haven’t left the library besides for training in quite some time.”
You stare down at the sleeves of your faded pewter robes as they billow in the evening breeze; the silver embroidery around the cuffs has begun to fray and the layers of fabric gather about your waist, the pleats have been poorly ironed and the heavy fabric falls over the curve of your hip haphazardly and pools to the floor in a swathe of heavy cotton. Shame pools in your stomach at the sight of your slippers as they peek out from the skirts of your robe. 
It’s about time you asked Clotho for a new set of robes you think. 
“You’ve met him before, no?” Madja’s voice breaks the tenuous peace you have found in those moments. You look up at her and a deep set frown graces her weathered face, “when you first came to Velaris?”
The visions fall on you like night; the Moonstone Palace saturated in onyx and jade, the reflections of your face in the marble of the throne room floor, the sentries as they dragged you before the High Council. The sounds of your screams and a sea of rubies and pearls as the bodice of your dress is torn away from your heaving chest-- all that red. Terrible and red. 
Hewn City had always been cruel to you. You, a useless daughter to an ambitious man. The dreams are less vivid now but the sound of footsteps on marble still haunts you. 
“Yes, it was him who brought me to Velaris-- after-afterwards,” You acquiesce to her questioning, eyes set on the light beyond the frosted glass panes of the onyx doorway, “though I doubt he remembers.”
Your avenging angel.
Madja looks at you carefully, taking account of you before she nods to you in silent acknowledgement. 
The door to the High Lords townhouse opens with a flourish to reveal Morrigan. She’s more beautiful than you remember, radiant even as the dark shadows of sleep cling to her. Her golden hair hangs in loose waves over the delicate curve of her shoulder and though the deep umber of her eyes meets yours in a warm inviting stare as she utters your name. 
She knows your name. 
“Come on in from the cold.” she beckons you with the curve of a slender hand. You smile politely as you cross the threshold of the house. The wards fall away as you pass through into the foyer and the smell of mandarin and night blooming jasmine flood your senses. 
The foyer to the townhouse is truly beautiful; a testament to the fine artistry and craftsmanship that seemed to define Velaris’ art district. The walls are paneled wood, painted in a shade of twilight that can only be found here, in The Night Court, and the burgundy carpet so rich in color that it reminds you of a blood moon, the oil paintings that hang on the walls seem to exude an air of majesty unlike anything you’ve ever seen. 
In this room night reigns triumphant and you behold it all with a sense of wonder and awe. A careful deference to the love and care contained between these walls. It is a home that has been truly cherished by the people that live here. 
“Did Madja tell you why you had been summoned here?” Morrigan’s voice is soft and sweet and the feeling of her hand on your robed arm pulls you from your thoughts. 
“Sorry - I - uh” I stutter, glancing between her hand on my arm and the unyielding warmth of her gaze. “No she didn’t, only that there was a position in the High Lord’s household that Clotho recommended me for.”
“It was my recommendation actually,” Morrigan smiles proudly, letting her hand drop to her side idly. “Clotho just happened to agree.” The words leave her lips with the ghost of a smirk as she recalls the conversation between her and the High Priestess.
The last time you had spoken to Morrigan would have been in Hewn City, all those years ago. You abandon yourself to those days; when you had been the cursed daughter of a capricious Lord. The girl you were died under that mountain. The woman that stands in her place had been forged of blood, and splintered bone-- made strong by violence and tempered by time.
You nod solemnly and cast a glance to Madja who watches on in quiet curiosity. 
“Rhys is upstairs,” Morrigan says softly to you both, gesturing up the staircase to the upper level of the house, “I’ll fetch him down”. 
You notice then how troubled Mor looks. The rings around her eyes are pale purple and blue and her skin, once radiant, has become pale and sallow. She begins her ascent up the stairs with a small wave of her hand signaling Madja to follow. From here you can see a singular light that pierces through the blanket of the dark that shrouds the upper levels of the house.
Mor regards you once more as Madja passes her on the stairs and points towards the ornate door that leads to the antechamber at the heart of the house. “Go on in, we won’t be a moment.” In a flourish of golden blonde hair and crimson Morrigan winnows away and leaves you to linger in the foyer for a quiet moment. 
The smell of cherries and marigold shades the air in her absence.
Voices, disembodied and distant from the upper levels of the house draw you into the heart of the house.
The antechamber of the High Lords townhouse is a beautiful living room, plunged into near darkness spare the slivers of jade light that dapple the dark walls from the emerald chandelier, even in the darkness you can make out the dark marble of the hearth that is draped with moonflowers and ivy. The low backed chairs are elegant and worn from use and there are books strewn about the room and a small library contained neatly in the alcove. 
Your eyes find the painting hung above the hearth; immortalized on oil and canvas the High Lord of Night and his Lady. The High Lord is painted in a deep navy tunic and the silver paint mimics the delicate embroidery favored by the Velarian tailors in The Rainbow. His violet eyes shine bright against the dark. 
He is a thing of dark beauty, you think.
In this light, his High Lady looks as though she is wreathed in starlight as smiles down on the antechamber from her place above the hearth. You observe the pointed curve of her nose and the upturn of her cerulean eyes and something aching and jealous festers in you at the sight of her beauty. 
Otherworldly and ethereal.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The low tenor of a man calls out from the darkness of the room, the voice is measured and devoid of any emotion as it permeates the dark. The male cuts an intimidating figure in the low light and all thought and sound eddies from your mind. You’re sure the sound of your heart like an echoing war drum is loud enough to shake the mountains as he takes a step towards you.
“High Lord?” you question. He steps further into the light and you regard him pensively; his skin is pallid and his eyes are ringed with dark circles of amethyst that trouble you. His onyx hair is left tousled and the ends have grown long enough to curl away from the harsh lines of his face. The sharp junction of his jaw has become obscured by the smatterings of coarse, black hair that grow there.
Even still, even in the unforgiving jade light, he is the most beautiful male you have ever seen. He smells of night blooming jasmine and violets undercut with something inherently masculine. Pine and whiskey perhaps. 
His presence is something truly captivating; dark and intoxicating. When he looks at you there is only dark in those violet eyes. 
The High Lord sinks into the worn armchair by the hearth with a deep sigh and for a moment he allows his eyes to flutter closed as he breathes deeply and all you can do is surrender yourself to that dark magnetism. The dying fire in the hearth warms him and in this light you notice the golden hues of his skin and the dark inky trails tattooed across the planes of his chest where his shirt opens. 
“You’re staring--” The High Lord’s violet eyes falls onto you. In those liminal spaces between the seconds, when he is looking at you, all ceases to be. You tilt your chin downwards, hoping to avert his gaze, as you offer him a courteous bow. 
“My apologies High L-” the apology is cut off by the High Lords gentle protests. None of that, Love.
You pray to the mother that he doesn’t notice the flush along the tops of your cheeks or the wild fluttering of your heart at the pet name.
“Sit down,” The High Lord gestures simply to the seat across from him by the hearth and his whole demeanor is somehow softer when you deign to look at him again. Wordlessly you comply with his request, a careful hand runs down the length of your robes to smooth out the lazy pleats in the skirt as they fan out around you in the low backed chair and while you don’t dare to meet his eyes directly you can feel him looking at you.
    “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologizes though his voice is distant, despondent even and his eyes find the painting that looms over the hearth. “The portrait-- It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He muses, tipping the rim of his whiskey glass towards the portrait. 
“Very beautiful, High Lord.” you agree, smoothing the heavy material of your robes again. He watches you then with a curious glint in his eyes and he takes a few moments to assess you.
“Just Rhysand will do,” He smiles lightly, though there's a sense of apprehension as he regards you playing with the threads of your sleeves for the third time in so many moments, “there’s no need for such formalities when it’s just the two of us.” 
“No of course not,” You agree and look at him through thick lashes and offer him a small smile in return, “forgive me, I’m--” you extend a hand to him over the small end table between the arm chairs and he takes it in earnest shaking it lightly. A calloused pad of his thumb rubs an absentminded circle into the skin of your hand before he brings your hand, trembling and slender, to the sulk of his lips and places a chaste kiss against the knuckles. 
“I know who you are, Priestess,” he says lightly-- playfully. You offer him a polite laugh in return and nod your head again. 
Something dark burns in his eyes in those moments; silver and violet. Like the darkness between the stars. He smiles to himself then, a soft beautiful thing. A secret shared between him and the dying light in the hearth as he picks at an errant threat on the stitching of his shirt.
“Why am I here, Rhysand?” You ask, inhaling deeply, hoping that his answer might assuage the anxiety that has been coiling in your stomach all afternoon. The door to the antechamber opens then and light, golden and radiant spills into the room all at once. The radiant light reveals the room to you fully, you observe the emerald velvet chairs and the dark wood furnishings, the landscapes hung on the walls and the rare manuscripts and novels bound all in black that line the walls. 
This house is something truly breathtaking. 
It feels like a home you realize. 
“There you are!” Morrigan's velvet voice smothers the morose tension in the room as she comes into view. She’s since shed the tiredness that plagued her before and you notice the way her hair frames her face like a halo of gold in the soft ochre light. In her arms, swaddled in sapphire spider silk, is the High Lord’s son. 
“We were beginning to wonder where you had gone.” Mor coos at the bundle in her arms as she approaches Rhysand who takes the babe in his strong arms. 
As if he could get any more beautiful-- the man looks as though he was carved by The Mother. 
It’s wrong, you know. He is your High Lord and you are…
The cursed daughter of a capricious Lord, you remind yourself.
Rhysand glances at me hesitantly and I meet his eyes briefly before focusing on the babe in his arms. He’s since broken loose from the swaddling and his chubby fist clutches at his fathers shirt. I can just see the top of his little head, it's all tufts of curly blue-black hair and pointed pink ears. You smile fondly to yourself as he continues to wriggle in his father’s grasp. 
Gods, it’s been so long since you had smiled that wide without the feeling of guilt that usually attends it. 
“You used to be a governess, didn’t you?” Mor says by way of explanation for your summons. To her credit her smile never falters even as your demeanor hardens against her, “Clotho said you had talked about it a few times.” 
“Yes. I was,” You admit swallowing thickly, your voice comes out strained like the words themselves pain you to speak, “that was a long time ago though.”
That had been long before him. 
You must have only been a youngling yourself. You had been happy-- that much you remember. Those were the happy recollections of your old life; summers spent under the opal lights of The Moonstone place, children’s laughter like birdsong that breaks apart in the humid air as you danced and sang long into the nights. Of dark autumns and smoky air, a bonfire and a small hand that holds your own with such gentle reverence. 
“Clotho said you wanted to leave the Library?” Rhysand questions you, his eyes are dark and filled with a thinly veiled darkness that draws you into their depths as you speak to him without pretense. 
“I do,” You answer him honestly, your voice wavering only a little, “I don’t want to spend my days rotting in the depths of that House.”
Rhysand considers it carefully and his face twists into a pained expression that almost breaks your resolve. You hadn’t meant to hurt him-- never. But you’re done hiding in the dark. 
The world is a cruel place and full of cruel men. It always had been and it always will be. There is nought you can do to change that. So why should you cower from the world any longer? 
You want to live. 
The whining of the restless babe in Rhys’ arms rouses your attention and something akin to longing gathers in your chest as you regard him. You pull a lip between your teeth as he fusses and Rhysand struggles to soothe him. The babe looses a cry that comes out as a pitiful howl and you can feel a small ripple of power permeate the air.
“May I hold him?” The words take everyone in the room by surprise and the High Lord only nods easily and stands to pass the babe into your arms.
“I’m grateful,” You continue as Rhysand stands before you and transfers his son’s weight into the crook of your arm, “To you and your court for providing me, and girls like me with somewhere to heal but--” 
“But you weren’t meant to cower in the darkness of the library forever.” Rhysand’s words come out as little more than a whisper and the feeling of his warm breath on your skin is something entirely perverse. 
You shake your head, mouthing an inaudible ‘no’ before lowering yourself back into the chair by the hearth, hoping to hide the rosy blush that spreads across your cheeks. Rhys doesn’t retreat back into his armchair like you had thought he might and instead sinks to his knees before you and allows one of his son's fists to wrap around his ring finger. The babe seems to quieten then in your arms as he nuzzles against your chest, one balled first clinging to his father and the other pulling at the neckline of your robes and he smiles sleepily in your arms.
Looking at him now you are overcome with the realization of the absence that had stained this family’s happiness. Rhysand had given himself completely to a woman who had changed her mind. And their son-- their son; all cherub cheeked and big blue eyes framed with dark lashes-- had been abandoned by the woman who was supposed to love him without condition. Before the ghost of her had been an abstract thing. Something intangible and errant, a whisper or a memory, but now, as you look between the babe in your arms and the woman immortalized about the hearth you feel nothing but biting fury. A dangerous wrath only tempered by the stilling of the High Lord beside you. 
It is Morrigan’s movement at the side of the room that rouses you from thought. “Then perhaps we can come to an arrangement?” The smile that graces her lips is brilliant and calculating and the sparkle in those umber eyes tells you she is genuine in his intentions.
“An arrangement?” You ask hesitantly, raising one arched brow to her. 
“Yes.” The High Lord nods in agreement as Morrigan approaches you all casually, sauntering over to snatch a glass of wine from the decanter, “you’re free to leave the Library at any time but--”
“Help me take care of Nyx,” The High Lord beats you to it, his voice is soft and gentle and one of his fingers runs along the curve of Nyx’s ear as he begins to doze in your arms. 
“High Lor-” You start, and you’re torn between declining outright and trying to dissuade them altogether, “Mor, I haven’t cared for a babe in well over 60 years.”
“Listen to me,” Rhysand’s violet gaze is unyielding and when you can no longer avert his gaze he takes on of your hands in his own and all but pleads with you,  “take care of Nyx, for one year-- just until I get used to doing it on my own-- just until he starts his pre-schooling.” 
The thought of him raising his son all alone pains you, a physical, bone deep ache that settles over you. You mourn for him then, for the love he thought he had, for all that he lost and then you mourn for the babe in your arms. For the son who will grow up without knowing his mother’s love. The High Lord looks at you through dark lashes and you note the tiredness in his eyes and the desperate sadness that seems to radiate from him these days and yet, he smile softly at you. As one might smile at something lovely and precious. 
“And in return?” You ask peering down at him with sympathetic eyes when his whole body goes lax.
“I’ll help you get set up somewhere-- anywhere you want.” The words come quickly and if you were a cruel woman you would see what more he would offer you. But when he’s looking at you like you might just be his last hope you can’t find it in you to do anything but allow yourself to be persuaded by him.
You see a home; a cottage maybe, made of ancient stone and covered with climing ivy and jasmine. On the outskirts of Velaris, away from the artisans and market stalls of the main square, but close enough that you never feel truly alone. A home and it smells of mandarin and moonflowers, the sound of children laughing, and a garden blooming with violets in the garden in the leonine yellow heat of high summer. You smile wistfully and you swear you feel the gentle caress of a hand in your mind's eye. 
“You can live here with us in the meantime” Rhysand continues gesturing to the house around you. 
It’s warm and inviting and your body sings in response to the prospect. 
“I don’t think that's a good--” 
“Just until you find somewhere of your own.” He assures you standing to his full height before you. He casts a morose glance to the portrait that hangs about the hearth and you can see the moment his violet eyes meet painted cerulean. 
“Rhys--” You warn gently. 
“Please,” He turns to you again and the desperation in his tone has you yielding to him further, a gentle sweep over your face before settling on the sleeping babe in your arms, “please.” He repeats it once more and you swear your heart breaks just a little bit for him. 
He had saved you once, you think. You had only been a girl then but you remember looking at him in that light; he looked like the shadow of some dark winged God-- avenging and angelic.
Perhaps this time the girl can save the God.
“A bargain then.” You muse lightly holding out a pinky finger to him.
Rhysand huffs out a laugh and curls his finger around your own. Nyx’s hand seems to flex in response, his own tiny pinky finger outstretched in agreement. 
“A bargain.” With the simple confirmation you feel the gentle burn of a promise as it kisses its way up your wrist, and you see Rhysand’s own inky sigil as it glows faintly on the skin of his outstretched arm.
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tojisun · 2 years
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she wanting more
: bonk, horny thoughts 😔
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mm neighbour!toji deliberately wearing skin-tight white shirts for him to shrug off whenever he mows his lawn because he knows you’re watching from your kitchen window.
neighbour!toji inviting you to his house every game night. he has his other friends over but his full attention is always on you — it doesn’t matter if his team is making their play, all he is focused on is you. he’s a little possessive too: he always has an arm ‘casually’ looped around you or thrown over your chair, always has his head inched towards you to hear you better, always refills your drink or offers you food, always making small talk about your work and your week and everything and anything in between.
neighbour!toji coming over to fix your sink or your washing machine or to help you clean your pool. you greet him by the door and he’s leaning on the post, his bulging arms crossed over his chest, his lips tugged in a lazy smile.
“hey, darlin’,” he greets. “lemme check what’s bothering a sweet thing like you.”
you giggle, tucking your hair behind your ear. “oh, you,” you mumble, aware of the tingle in your cheeks. you swivel, tilting your head for him to follow you in.
he grunts but he doesn’t move. not yet. he lets you walk ahead of him to watch the way you strut back into the comforts of your home. he savours the way your hips sway, your pyjama shorts softly riding up with every rub against your thighs. he waits with bated breath, knowing what’s coming next.
his veins go up in flames when you bend over to pick up guest slippers for him, your shorts hitching up enough to have your red lace panties peak through. he almost whimpers when your shorts kept riding higher, leaving the the fat of your ass exposed. christ, he breathes in sharply, you look absolutely ravaging.
he doesn’t even hide the desire in his eyes when you turn to look at him because he knows. he knows that you deliberately tease him only to act coy after. he knows that you like him just as much.
neighbour!toji fucking you in mating press. he always wanted to fill you with his cum; always wanted to stuff you full and leave you drunk off of his cock and his cum. he always wanted your breasts pressed flat against his, always wanted his lips locked with yours. it doesn’t matter if you can’t even kiss him back with the way your lips are stretched as moans and squeals and sobs fall from them because he’s always wanted it messy.
always wanted to leave evidences.
“to-i!!” you squeaked after aborted ah-ah-ah, your hands scratching at his back in an effort to ground yourself from the dizzying pleasure. “so deep! so deep!”
he laughs as he continues to humps your pussy, dragging his cock at your walls with every erratic thrusts. “yeah? y’ feel me reaching so far in you, huh? y’ve never been fucked like this, haven’t you sweetheart? haven’t been filled properly the way this pussy deserves? oh, doll,” he croons.
“well, here’s good news for you: y’r needy cunt will never be lonely again.”
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lalunanymph · 1 month
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୨୧ zayne's unusual method of coercing lulling your baby back to sleep
✧・゚papa!zayne, husband!zayne, mom!reader, talks of medical research, babies, you both have a little girl named 'jasmine' (iykyk), mild spoilers for lads if you squint, pure fluff, spoilers for the good night video call with zayne, he calls you 'my aurora' (also iykyk)
✧・゚help me plz i have fallen for this man and i cant get up
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night falls, bringing with it a peace no wish in the world could.
it's the type of peace which echoes gentle snowfall during the dawn; a hum of wintry wind on the back of weak sunlight.
for now, the household is quiet, everyone catching up on precious minutes of sleep.
or, as much as they could before your daughter's piercing wail shatters through the night.
"i'll go get her," the fatigue roughened voice of your husband, zayne, reassures you. his large palm reaches across the bed, clasping your own for a single second, a silent order for you to go back to sleep.
"zayne," you murmur, rubbing your eyes. "i'll go with you—"
"you need rest," he cuts you off, though the look in his emerald gaze is eclipsed with a special softness reserved just for you. "i don't have any surgeries lined up tomorrow until after lunch. i'll do it."
stoic yet kind, your husband volunteers to take up the mantle; hurrying towards the nursery to tend to your fussy baby.
you sink back into the soft sheets, exhaling in exhaustion. it must've been hours or minutes, your consciousness dipping in and out of the pool of wakefulness.
when you turn to the side, zayne still wasn't back. curiosity propelled you to sit up, stuffing your feet into a pair of blue, fuzzy slippers. you tightened your robe around your shivering body, shuffling down the hall towards the nursery.
"... common treatment is a myectomy of the hypertrophic IVS. however, surgical treatment of midventricular is usually challenging. the hypertrophic area cannot be reached via a transaortic approach. for that reason, a transapical ventriculostomy has been described as preferred access for surgical correction..."
zayne's voice piques your interest. as you turn around the corner, you nearly burst out into a fit of giggles.
your husband, baby in one arm and large research book on his knee, was trying to read a "bedtime" story to your sweet jasmine.
"—in some cases of diffuse myectomy has been performed via trans-mitral septal myectomy with a video-assisted minimal invasive 2D technique—oh, look, it's your mama."
he moves your little girl to the other arm, her shimmering emerald eyes clasped on the hook of his nose. she bubbles and squeals, trying to swipe at his chin—definitely not drowsy or ready to fall back to sleep.
"come on now," zayne remains stern with her. "it's time for you to sleep. you've been keeping me up for almost an hour."
as much as your husband's antics were drawing your mirth, you could sense the despair in his tone wasn't fabricated.
"perhaps you're reading her the wrong bedtime story." you tease, walking into the room. you take jasmine from her papa's arms, cradling her close to your chest.
your daughter fusses, gummy mouth gaping and closing, cooing her agreement.
"the resection of hypertrophic papillary muscles and mitral valve replacement is a good bedtime story," he quips. snapping the heavy research book close, he sets it down to the floor. "she's just being like her mama, that's all."
fighting back the urge to smirk, you shake your head. "at least you've never given her a lecture on fusion guidance."
his brow crinkles, and eventually, a small smile decorates his lips. "you remember?"
zayne's voice is unexpectedly soft, and you nod; delighting in sharing this memory with your husband.
"how could i forget? it's my go-to bedtime request from you."
he stands, coming behind you and jasmine. a long, calloused finger traces down her chubby cheek. one arm around your waist, the other supporting your own arm under your baby.
"if only i could know what hers is," zayne sighs. "then, you wouldn't have to check up on us."
"i want to," you interject, nudging your face back to give his cheek a soft kiss. "i love seeing you with her."
"hmm."
your husband goes quiet for a few more moments. you almost fall asleep standing up, the warmth of his broad back emanating through your thin cotton nightdress; lulling you into comfort. jasmine, soothed by your steady breathing, droops off; her shell pink lips puckered like a bud about to bloom.
"she's finally asleep."
"your heartbeat," zayne says, barely above a whisper. his warm breath touches your neck, making gooseflesh rise on your arms. "she's soothed by it."
you touch your gaze to her puffy cheeks; the thin wisps of dark hair on her head she inherited from the one man you adored with every beat of your heart.
"i'm glad you saved me," you whisper, remembering the day when zayne performed the life-changing operation on you; finally stabilising your condition after years of distress and anxiety.
"i owe my heart to you."
"keep it," your husband is quick to dismiss his role in saving you; a man of little words with the biggest impact.
"but, take mine if you need it. my heart is all yours, my aurora."
sobs iykyk the spoilers for mr. love: queen's choice (lads predecessor) you'd know that zayne's hea—[gunshot]
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©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.
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some-bunniii · 23 days
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Even the Devil Mourns
・❥ You awake one night to find your husband, Lucifer Morningstar, missing from your side. You go out to search, only to see him distraught in a pool of tears.
x: reader is g/n, no use of y/n. more luci angst popped into my head yall, sorry not sorry
~ 3.2k words
Warnings: Angst!! Hellish themes! Descriptions of death & Satanic rituals ft. human sacrifices!
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You awoke suddenly, sweat beading on your forehead and heart pounding in your chest. The silken, satin sheets slid across your naked back as you stirred. The cool breeze across your exposed skin sent goosebumps up your spine.
What time was it? What was that sound that had pulled you from your beauty sleep?
Your face was still buried into the cool pillow beneath you. Its plush, velvety touch beckoning you back into slumber. You snuggled deeper into the pillow’s embrace, your pulse slowing as you began to drift off. 
And then, you heard it again. Echoing from the cracked doorway across the bedroom, emanating from somewhere down the hallway. A stifled sound, like someone holding in a large intake of breath. You shifted your face off of the pillow slightly, straining your ears. 
Sleep was slowly ebbing from your mind, as you stirred underneath the sheets once more. The strange noise piqued your interest as you pulled the covers away from your face, the room beginning to feel unusually cold.
It was night, you guessed, since your eyelids were still bathed in darkness. Usually, the morning light would peak from the drapes that covered the large glass panes that bordered your bedroom. The rays of light would bask your bed sheets in a red glow, and you would have nestled your face closer against the soft, supple skin of your beloved. His arm lifting to snake around your waist, pulling you closer. Hot breath tickling against your lashes as he placed a drowsy kiss on your temple.
Your beloved.
Lucifer.
Where was he? You couldn’t feel the warmth that seemed to seep from his very being, enveloping you like a gentle embrace without even touching the man. You couldn't feel Lucifer beside you at all, not even the weight of his figure on the mattress. 
The fallen angel always had some part of his body against yours. Whether that was his head snuggled against your chest, or his legs wrapped around yours. There was always some sort of contact with Lucifer, no matter the time of day. 
His fingers always seemed to graze against yours as he handed you another one of his candy apple creations. The feeling of his hand resting on the small of your back protectively, as you took a drunken, wobbly step backward as the two of you enjoyed another romantic evening filled with laughter and soft whispers.
But, now. There was none of that. For the first time since you began sharing a bed, Lucifer wasn’t here to greed your tired form. Which made you uneasy, and you lifted yourself slowly from the mattress, renewed energy feeding your tired muscles as you rose to a sitting position.
Twisting your legs, you pivoted until your feet floated over the edge of the bed, before lowering them to the ground. Your skin met the cold, firm wooden floor beneath as you inhaled a deep breath. Sitting there for a few moments, you allowed yourself a little more time to wake, before shifting your weight to your legs and rising.
Your hands reached for the hanger beside your bedside table, a dark red that called out to you with warmth. The thick, plush garment enveloped your fingers as you pulled it from the hook. Wrapping the robe around your semi-nude figure, you quickly shuffled your feet into the fuzzy yellow duck slippers neatly tucked beneath the hanger.
Your eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness of the room, the only source of light teasing you from the doorway. The door was opened only an inch or two, but the familiar orange glow that flickered from the hallway still reached your bedroom even from the lounge. 
Reaching an arm down, you let your fingers gently graze against the marble surface of your bedside table, until your pink landed on the small item of value. Its smooth, metal surface slid against your finger as it nestled around your digit.
Your wedding ring, something you never parted without. Even in a nightly search like this one, where you weren’t sure what exactly you were going to find outside of the safe confines of your chamber. Lucifer had a ring just like yours, but in the darkness, you couldn’t see whether he had taken it with him when he departed.
Snaking your arms together, you held them closely to your chest as you crossed the distance, using your foot to quietly peel the door farther open. It creaked quietly, and you grimaced at the noise. Turning slightly, you shimmied through the gap, the soles of your slippers meeting the carpet in the hallway. 
You turned your head towards the orange glow, that flickered around the corner. The pitiful noises beckoned you as you tiptoed across the corridor, past the large paintings hung across the walls. Scenes of rushing, deep blue waters cascading over glittering rocks as it fell into a pool of sunlit waves. 
On the edge of the large waterfall, was a mother grizzly bear and her cubs, their small frames hanging from their mother’s legs in playful banter. The large bear’s caramel-brown coat stuck out from the sharp, gray edges of the rocks standing tall behind her. 
Her snout was lifted towards the cascading water, her mouth parted to show sharp, white teeth as the shadows of long, pink fish leaped from the edge of the falls, their bodies barely grazing her jaws as she snapped at their forms. 
You weren’t particularly aware of where that painting had come from, but it was a very beautiful scene of life on Earth, a very rare type of piece to find down in Hell.
There was one, that you favored over them all, of you and Lucifer. It depicted a midnight-red sky, the large pentagram glowing above the two figures on a large balcony. Vines snaked around the pillars on each side of the terrace, blue and purple flowers blooming across their green, prickly skin. The familiar face on the left, a pearlescent glow against the red backdrop, wore a playful look on his features. One hand holding a wine glass, the other snug against the figure on the right, you. 
You stood beside Lucifer, a large smile plastered across your face as the two of you leaned comfortably against the tall marble balcony railing. It seemed like the two of you were at some kind of party, perhaps one of those annual meetups all the Sins and friends have away from the prying eyes of Hell. Lucifer’s attire was a more casual fit for a king, his favorite red-and-white striped waistcoat, over that clean, white dress shirt. You were also adorned in an eye-catching outfit that displayed your power and statue of royalty, without making you the center of attention.
The two of you looked so happy, as you leaned into each other with lips curved into goofy grins. For being the highest-ranking figures in Hell, the two of you looked so natural and carefree in this moment. A moment you cherished every time you glanced at the portrait hanging comfortably along the wall during your walks between rooms.
Unfortunately, the light illuminating from the end of the hall wasn’t strong enough for you to get a good glimpse at it, as you neared the corner. You planted your back against the wall, peeking your head slightly out of the edge. You couldn’t see the fireplace from here, but the sound of wood crackling as it split from the flames echoed through the room.
You could hear the strange noises much clearer now, a shaky breath followed by quiet, soothing murmurs. Sniffling, before another one of those stifled sobs. 
Your breath quickened, muscles tensing as you listened for another moment. The voice intermixed with the sounds was awfully familiar, and you couldn’t understand what would make the owner so distraught.
You calmed your beating heart, before pivoting to stand in the entryway of the lounge, your gaze landing on the figure curled on a piece of furniture. Their side faced you, and you partially see their features, illuminated by the orange glow of the flames.
Across the room, was Lucifer. He sat on top of a dark red ottoman, only a few feet from the fireplace as he stared into it, lost in thought. He wore his white dress shirt loosely against his figure, the buttons partially undone in the front, exposing his collarbone. Lucifer’s arms were wrapped around his legs, and his knees were hugged to his chest. His head limply lay against one of his kneecaps, his head out-turned towards you. 
It wasn’t until you approached him, and your footsteps creaked against the floor, did the sullen man perk up from his ball of comfort. Tears glistened against his pale features, and his quivering lip curved into a shocked frown. The man’s disheveled hair bounced softly as he lifted his head, those platinum-blonde curls practically glowing like candlelight.
“Oh, Honey!” Lucifer gasped, his head whipping to face the opposite direction of you. His hand rubbed across his face hastily as he straightened himself atop the sofa. He fixed his loose collar, clearing his throat as he fixed his posture. “I’m sorry, did I wake you? You should just go back to sleep, I don’t want to bother you.”
“It’s hard to sleep when you see your husband like this at one in the morning,” you responded, taking a few steps closer. Your tone was firm, prompting him to speak more on the subject. 
Lucifer stayed silently, the only noise between the two of you were soft pops and crackles from the burning wood. Fear gnawed at you watching him ignore your words. Your husband always tried to hide his emotions at first, masking them behind a smile while he let his mind drift off to such dark thoughts. Except, with you, he always came undone and spilled the beans like a teenage girl at a sleepover.
But, your presence was not breaking him just yet, as he averted his gaze. In the faint light, you swore his fingers were shaking just a tad against the fabric of his shirt. Should you prod him further? There was no way you were going to leave him to drown in whatever sorrows he was battling right now.
“It happened again,” Lucifer finally breathed out after a moment. His fingers harshly squeezed the sleeves of his dress shirt, his chest shuddering as he inhaled another shaky breath. His eyes were still trained on the flames licking against the metal barrier, as he refused to meet your gaze.
You stood there, your arms crossed against your chest as you shivered. The heat of the fireplace felt so welcoming to your tired bones, but the sight of Lucifer sullen upon the ottoman kept your feet frozen in place.
“What happened again?” You whispered, taking a step forward, careful not to cross any boundary that could set your husband off further. This was a side of him you rarely saw. Yes, he was an emotional being, but the distress Lucifer was exuding was making you more nervous after every second he remained silent.
“I was summoned, to one of those… rituals.” Lucifer spat out that last word with disgust, a growl underlying his tone.
You tensed. Oh, one of those.
Since Lucifer fell, and became the King of Hell, his soul was chained to the realm. Unable to cross to Heaven or Earth, even with another’s magic. The fallen angel was stuck, cursed to watch the cruelty and hate that sprung from his past actions.
Except, through the slaughter of a newly-born lamb, could he enter into the mortal plane. Only to answer the call of whoever had landed the killing blow. Something about being punished to only view your creation through ‘the blood of the innocent’ or some stupid Heavenly shit like that. You never asked him what transpired during those summonings, and he never spoke of it.
There was one kind of summoning, that you knew of, that was different from the rest. Cults that worshipped demons and monsters, perpetuated suffering in exchange for a supposed blessing from the fiery pits below. Lucifer always seemed… off, after those times.
“I always feel it, before it happens,” your husband started, his hand raking across his scalp as he pulled the tangled blonde mess behind his forehead. “Like a tugging at my shirt, but from deep inside, like my soul. I didn’t want to disturb you, so I ran to the bathroom. Just as I was pulled through the portal to Earth.”
Those images flashed through Lucifer’s mind as he spoke. Large, crumbling pillars dot the perimeter. Torches circled a thick, wooden stake planted into the ground. Satanic symbols were woven into posts and burned into the ground around the grassy, hidden clearing.
A bloodied figure lay limp against its surface, rope wrapping around their thin frame as it kept them in place. Flames licked at their feet, the stake beginning to catch fire as they writhed in pain from the intense heat.
Hooded. figures stood in the shadows, chanting some awful, ancient tune. Asking for blessings and powers Lucifer couldn’t even grant them.
“It was a girl, I don’t know how old. But, she was young, not even full grown,” Lucifer started, his voice shaky as the words slipped painfully from his tongue, “When I got there, she was already burning. Screaming in agony, pleading for mercy.”
You grimaced, trying not to picture the scene. The metallic tang of blood that no doubt had permeated the air. The stench of burning flesh, as it sizzled off its owner. 
Bile rose in your throat, threatening to spill from your mouth before you held it in. Leaving you to wonder how many times Lucifer had witnessed such a thing to have better composure to the scene than you.
“Do you know who she cried out to during her last moments?” Lucifer turned to you, his features glowing as his eyes glistened with tears. A bitter smile bloomed on his lips, a dark chuckle escaping his throat. “God! She begged Him to save her! To strike those hooded men down and end her suffering.” 
You said nothing, instead taking a few steps closer to your husband's quivering form, only a few feet from him now as Lucifer spoke with a pained tone.
“Do you know what ended her suffering? The flames that ate away her skin.” He snarled, his eyes turning blood-red as he pivoted towards you. You reeled back, your heartbeat quickening at his bared teeth.
“There was nothing I could—nothing I can do,” He cried to you, his tone wobbly, desperate. As if he was trying to convince you that was the truth, that he didn’t let such terrible actions go unpunished purposely. “I’m always too late when they call for me. Too much damage already.”
Tears pricked at your eyes as you listened to him. You would have never had that kind of idea in your head, you knew Lucifer wasn’t that twisted of a man. 
“And imagine, when those bastards finally kick the bucket, they’ll come here,” Lucifer spat hoarsely, venom dripping from his words, “another citizen that I’m expected to protect and rule over. I’m expected to care about, as King. What a cruel joke Heaven has played on me.”
Lucifer sat there for a moment, breathing heavily. His horns jutted out of his head as he fumed silently at himself. Those tears threatened to spill from his pretty eyes once more as he lifted a hand with an anguished growl, and Lucifer raked his claws down his face. 
You gasped, watching blood spill from the small gashes across his cheek, glowing sickly against the blazing light from the fireplace.
“Don’t do that!” You begged, lacing your fingers with his, pulling his hand to your chest as you kneeled before him. The golden liquid spread across your fingertips from his damp claws, and your face screwed into anguish, “Don’t hurt yourself, none of this is your fault. Absolutely none..”
Your finger rubbed against a small, smooth surface on Lucifer’s hand. Glancing down, your eyes followed the glint of his wedding ring as it shined in the basking light. Your heart fluttered, and you sighed.
Slowly, you lifted your other hand to his face. Lucifer leaned back slightly, hesitant at your touch. He broke a moment later, squeezing his eyes shut as he brushed his cheek against your open hand. Your nails grazed lightly against his skin, the damp feeling only driving your own tears.
“Do you know what it feels like, to watch innocent people be burned alive to please some sick, twisted version of me?” Lucifer whispered into your palm, tears pooling against your skin as he blinked them away.
You pursued your lips, the agony on his face clenching your heart tightly.
“Those defenseless men and women, sentenced to death simply for theatrics.” Lucifer whimpered, and you slid your hand from his fingers to rest against his other cheek. 
“All those children—”
Lucifer choked on the last word, a sob escaping his throat as he struggled to contain the shakes racking across his body. 
In a swift motion, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling the fallen angel flush against you. This time, there was no fuss from him as he collapsed into your hold. 
You held him, as he sobbed. Painful, heartbreaking cries of grief. As Lucifer mourned the lives that were destroyed in his name, for an image that didn’t exist. 
You shook against him, ceasing the noises that threatened to escape your aching throat. You only bit your lip harshly, tasting blood drip flood your tastebuds. You ignored the pain blooming in your mouth, staying silent as Lucifer began to calm in your grasp.
All because he wanted mankind to be able to express themselves outside of Heaven’s strict rules and suffocating influence.
“I gave them a chance to do so much more,” he whispered against your skin. His head lay limply against your shoulder as he sobbed quietly. “And, they fucked it up.”
“Please don’t cry,” you whispered hoarsely into his hair, inhaling the deep scent of apples and cinnamon as you hugged him tightly. “I’m here for you, as always. You don’t need to hide your grief from me.”
“I know, I'm sorry.” He replied quietly, his fingers rubbing soothing circles against your upper back. The weight against you grew heavier, as he fell completely limp against your hold, his hand coming down to rest against your waist. 
“I’m just so tired.” He muttered into the crook of your neck, and you pulled him closer.
“Sleep, I’m right here. Just rest your eyes, for me.” You begged your lover.
Lucifer nodded into your skin, before you felt him curl farther into you. You nestled closer into his hair, your back against the ottoman now, as you let the heat of the fire dry your soaked cheeks.
Oh, how cruel Heaven truly is, to give such a fate to such a loving soul. 
And now, you’d make sure he would never feel so alone in his pain again. A silent promise to your husband, as you drifted into bliss-less sleep.
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YOU GUYS. this idea had me by the chokehold suddenly after work, and i wrote it in one sitting, my ass hurts yall 😂
also, don’t worry, that alastor fic is still coming! i’m about halfway done, so stay tuned for that next :)
what do you think? let me know your thoughts! <3
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518 notes · View notes
shockercoco · 2 months
Text
There We Go
Farleigh Start x reader
Warnings - 18+, fingering, overstimulation, drinking, farleigh being dominant when we all know he's not
Word count - 2366
a/n - this is my first time writing smut I wanted to give it a try, and it was hard for me idk how y'all do this lol. enjoy :)
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Last night, you had your hands in between your legs scrolling through videos trying to find the perfect one, while Farleigh was outside smoking with Felix. You and Farleigh have never had intimacy problems, it’s just you having a hard time asking for or initiating the intimacy – even Farleigh has told you several times before that he’s always willing.  You hadn’t gotten too far in your journey when you started hearing those familiar footsteps outside the bedroom door getting closer. You hurriedly took your hand out of your pajama shorts, switched apps, and readjusted yourself like you had been lying like that the whole time. Farleigh opens and closes the bedroom door, kicks off his slippers, and crawls under the covers next to you.
“Can’t sleep?” he asks as he lays his head on your stomach and you just hum in response.
So now here you were sitting in a pool chair underneath the hot Summer sun watching Farleigh, Venetia, and Felix messing around in the pool, and you can’t seem to control your thoughts – mainly because you never got to finish last night. You throw your sunglasses on and try to distract yourself with the book in your hands and hope you weren’t making yourself obvious to him,  even though you could care less what Jane Austen has to say at the moment. You take a peak over the edge of your book and notice Venetia is talking to Felix, Felix is leaning against the edge of the pool with his head towards the sky not seeming to be really listening, and Farleigh is now swimming towards you.
You cross your ankles as if he could sense or see the arousal growing between your legs while he pulls himself out of the pool leaving the bottom of his legs to dangle in the water. Water drips off of him onto the concrete surrounding the pool and also forms into droplets on his chest and arms. Your sunglasses are pretty dark so you’re pretty sure he can’t see you checking him out.
“Are you okay over here?” Farleigh finally looks at you with his own sunglasses covering his eyes, and places a hand on your ankle. He always randomly does this, but at the moment you’re not a fan. You clear your throat before answering.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” you ask looking up from your book as if you had been reading it the whole time.
“Just asking since you normally start complaining about it being too hot if you’re outside too long,” he jokes with a shrug of his shoulders. “As if we’re not all hot.” He now starts caressing your ankle, which any other time you would love it, but now all you want to do is push his hand off.
“Excuse you, you complain more than me. Plus it’s not too bad right now, as long as we get to go inside soon,” you say, looking back down at your book and start pretending you're reading again. You hear him let out a laugh.
“We’re going out into town for drinks later, do you want to come?”
“You guys are driving all the way out there just to drink?” you raise an eyebrow at him.
“That’s what they suggested,” he tells you, referring to the two siblings still floating in the pool. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”
“No, no. It’s fine.”
“That’s the book I told you about, how is it?” he asks, still rubbing your ankle.
“It’s pretty good,” you answer not knowing what else to say and wishing the conversation would just be over.
“Where are you at in it?”
Oh my god.
You skim through a paragraph on the page and quickly paraphrase it for him. He gives you a look with a smirk on his lips, but with his eyes also covered in dark tint you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Or maybe he’s not thinking anything and you’re just overthinking. Once he eventually leaves you alone and goes back to swimming with Felix and Venetia, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.
Later that night when you all are at the pub, including Oliver who decided to come at the last minute, you’re no longer feeling like your head is going to explode. Well, you do, but that’s just because of how packed it is inside the pub. Everyone in the bar has to raise their voice to communicate with one another, but no one seems to care. The group is several drinks in and are talking about the most pointless things, especially Venetia who is asking Oliver what color she should dye her already fried hair next, but you’re still enjoying yourself. Not Felix though, since he declared himself the designated driver because he doesn’t trust anyone else driving his truck. You’ve only had a couple drinks since you were never a huge fan of drinking to the point of getting drunk. 
Farleigh, on the other hand, is on his way there along with the rest of them, and is constant with his nagging towards Oliver. You nudge him every now and then as a warning and he gives you an innocent look every time. Thankfully Oliver doesn’t seem to mind – or doesn’t make it obvious – that he cares about what Farleigh has to say.
When everyone has decided they’ve had enough, you guys make the drive back and blast music loud enough to sober up an alcoholic. Felix, Farleigh, and Oliver don’t seem to have any problem screaming their lungs out to it. Venetia complains about the music being too loud, probably because the music is ruining her buzz,  and you just shake your head in amusement.
Once you guys arrive back at the estate, and do a terrible job sneaking into the house, everyone goes their separate ways. Felix helps Venetia to her room, Oliver stumbles to his, and you and Farleigh make your way to your shared bedroom. You tell Farleigh you’re going to take a bath to which he asks to join, and you decline. He whines in response and plops down on the bed as you head into the bathroom with a laugh to start running the bath water. 
After undressing and climbing into the tub, you lean back and close your eyes until you hear familiar footsteps enter the bathroom. You open your eyes and turn your head to see Farleigh starting to undress himself. Someone’s obviously sobering up.
“And what do you think you’re doing?” you sit up, obviously knowing the answer.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he responds. 
“I thought I told you no,” you tell him as he gets down to his underwear and shimmies them off. 
“Yeah, but this way we’re saving water,” he smiles like it’s the best idea he’s ever had, even though he uses this trick every time, and for some reason you fall for it everytime. Plus it’s obvious the Cattons would never worry about something like water.
Farleigh makes his way over to the tub, all the while you’re trying to avoid eye contact with his slightly hard length causing him to smirk. You roll your eyes at him as you make room for him, and he climbs in behind you making the water level slightly rise. Once he’s comfortable, you lean your back against his chest, and he loosely wraps his hands around your waist.
His fingertips tickle your lower stomach, reawakening that familiar ache you had earlier at the pool and last night that you didn’t finish satisfying. You hope he doesn’t notice your breath catching in your throat. Feeling him against your back doesn’t help much either. 
“See, this isn’t so bad,” you hear him say in that playful tone of his. You elbow him in his stomach, and you hear him let out a small grunt. “Hey, did you notice Venetia flirting with Oliver the whole time tonight?”
“It was kind of hard not too, I feel like she gets hornier when she’s drunk,” you say as you start to gently move one of your feet around in the water.
“Well, duh, doesn’t everyone? I’m just surprised she did that in front of Felix,” he laughs and starts to lightly rub your lower stomach..
“Speaking of Oliver, wh-,” you start, but Farleigh cuts you off.
“We’re not.”
“Speaking of Oliver,” you try again, “why do you give him such a hard time?”
“Because he’s weird.”
“You’re weird, Farleigh,” you angle your body and turn your head back to look up at him. He gives your side a little pinch making you jump and let out a giggle.
“You know what I mean. Don’t tell me you’re growing a soft spot for him just because of those big blue eyes,” Farleigh lets out a scoff.
“No, I’m just saying to ease up on him a bit. You can be a little mean sometimes.”
“Well, I don’t trust him,” he shrugs.
“Farleigh-.”
“Can we talk about something else,” he cuts you off once again letting out a dramatic groan and throwing his head back.
“Of course. When we’re done with this conversation though,” you give him a forced smile. He looks down at you and gives you a little glare. “Just say you’ll be nicer, and we’ll be done.”
All of a sudden you feel the hand that was grazing your lower stomach dip lower, and you feel a finger start to lightly rub up and down your slit causing you to tense. You widen your eyes once you realize what he’s doing, your jaw falling slightly open.
“Are you trying to shut me up?” you furrow your eyebrows at him, and he gives you a smirk. “The audacity.”
“Whatever helps.”
“Farleigh, I’m serio-,” you try to get out, but he starts to rub circles into clit. You hold back a moan that threatens to spill out from the sudden touch, refusing to let him win, even if this is how you wanted your night to end in the long run.
“Sorry, what was that?”
“Farleigh-,” you try again, but this time he dips a finger in you causing you to let out a gasp at the intrusion, your eyes closing on instinct.
“Hmm?” 
You reach a hand down to wrap around his wrist as he curls his finger and starts to slowly pump in and out, but he uses his other hand to take it away and hold it. He adds another finger, still going the same deliberate pace along your walls on purpose to tease you. You bite your lip enjoying the stretch that his fingers bring, but still wanting to hold the noises in your throat back. Farleigh notices this and pushes his long fingers deeper into you, and then uses the hand holding yours to wrap around your waist holding you close to him. 
“If you want me to go faster, all you have to do is let some of those little noises come out for me,” he leans down and whispers into your ear. You love it when he does that, and he knows that, but you still didn’t want to break. “You know I saw you staring me down at the pool earlier.”
You knew it.
You feel his breath on your neck before he starts his trail of kisses making you clench your teeth. You make the mistake of looking down at his hand between your legs right as he finds his favorite spot on your neck, forcing a moan to accidentally slip out. You feel a smile form on his lips while they still attack your neck, and at the moment there’s a part of you that wants to strangle him, but you just give in to him.
“There we go,” he murmurs, and you finally feel his fingers speed up inside of you, causing your face to contort and lean your head back against his chest. He lets go of your waist using that hand to start rubbing your clit again, but this time rougher. This causes you to arch your back into him. If your body wasn’t submerged underwater, you guarantee you both would be able to hear your wetness with every movement.
Eventually, you feel your pleasure come to a powerful end, and Farleigh helps you ride it out as long as possible. You roll your hips into his hand until you’ve had enough, and just when you're about to motion for him to stop, Farleigh picks up a rapid pace forcing the water to start sloshing around. Your eyes widen and you let out a small squeal as you reach both of your hands for his wrist.
“Let go,” he says strongly.
“Farleigh,” you whimper, and it’s all you’re able to get out.
“Let go,” he says again, and this time you do. Instead you put one hand on his thigh and the other on the edge of the tub.
He continues his vigorous torture inside your cunt with you squirming and litterally gasping for air until you can both feel yourself gushing. But, of course he doesn’t stop there, not letting a beat pass. You bring your legs up to your chest with his hand still between, and he pushes them both back down. You let out a cry as he puts his legs over yours pinning your body to the bottom of the tub. It doesn’t take long for your third orgasm to come with a wail, and this time Farleigh stops.
Your heavy panting bounces off the bathroom walls as you finally have a chance to collect yourself, and Farleigh just chuckles from behind you. He slowly slides his fingers out and out of the water, but not before giving your clit a light tap, making you practically jump out of your skin.
“How are you doing down there?” he asks, as he wraps his arms around your waist. You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or genuine with your eyes closed, but at the moment you don’t care.
“Honestly, Farleigh, just stop talking,” you tell him, and he lets out a loud laugh that makes your body move against his chest.
733 notes · View notes
satoruhour · 9 months
Note
how nanami would react to you (his wife) being needy when he comes back from work pls <3
a/n: hehe / 1.6k
warnings: f! masturbation, pleasure dom nanami, pet names, usage of sex toys (vibrator + dildo), nanami listens in for a bit, clit stimulation, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, face-sitting, clothed sex, a bit of degradation, p → v penetration, riding, cowgirl, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, implied second + subsequent rounds, n*sfw under the cut
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“honey?” nanami calls out to the seemingly quiet home. there’s no sounds coming from the kitchen, which is a normal occurrence for you, pots and pans clanging in a rush to make sure dinner’s ready before your husband returns, even after he insists that there’s no hurry. but of course, he’s overtimed for quite a while, leaving the office around 7.30, so he doesn’t think it’s weird that you aren’t in your usual apron and slippers.
but he doesn’t smell dinner, either, the faded fragrance of whatever it is you planned to make wafting through the house; nothing. and then fear takes over as nanami scours the place, dress shoes clicking uncomfortably on the floor reminds him of an explosive — maybe you’ve been taken hostage, maybe you have a bomb attached to you, but the further he enters into your home, the more he doesn’t hear the matching sounds of a timer against the heel of his shoe.
it’s more of a low hum, when he finally ascends the stairs. one step by one step, nanami gets closer to the source: an unceasing buzz of a toy, and your quiet whimpers muffled by the duvet, the thrashing of your legs and the squelch of your dripping cunt as it sucks in your dildo. your husband internally sighs in relief, but he kicks out the previously terrifying vision before and focuses on your sounds.
“ken— s-shit…” nanami wipes his sweaty palms on his slacks, sparing a glance to the dick print already showing through the fabric and thinking if he should respect your space to let you finish or if he should just offer to help. ah, nanami, always the caring husband, but he knew chivalry would only make you more needy, so he sounds a quick rapt on the door and opens it, arriving to the sight of his pretty wife spread out so nicely.
“ah! what- kento!” your hair is tousled all over, some sticking to your skin. with chest heaving, you try to catch your breath as the toy you’ve been using dies out, clearly not able to take your multiple lacklustre orgasms. from the door, nanami’s eyes shift down to your cunt, wet and soaking the sheets, your cute apron swiped to the side. his eyes soften just a little seeing your fucked out expression, and even more so at the way you don’t cover yourself—
nanami makes you feel so damn good about your body that you have no room for insecurity and he thinks you look like an absolute goddess like this, imperfections and all. the soft pleas leaving your mouth is just the cherry on top.
“hey sweetheart… need some help?” and he feels his heart clench when you nod shyly and mutter a soft ‘please‘, hand reaching for his once he comes close enough to the bed. your husband goes in for a passionate kiss, twining his fingers with yours as the other sifts through your hair. it’s always vulnerable with nanami, laying down and pulling you atop him easily.
“no, baby,” nanami has one hand on your middle to stop your hips from moving, brushing the hair that falls out from your barely-together bun behind your ears, “want you to sit on my face. can you do that, sweetheart?”
“but what if i…” you pout, holding the hand that fumbles with your hair, pressing a soft kiss to his open palm.
“aht, aht, what’d i say about worrying about me?” nanami just smiles, ready to suffocate between your thighs, at the mercy of your sweet arousal. he nudges you forward as you scoot up his body knee by knee, until you’re hovering over him. he can smell you from here, puffy clit jutting out from how many times you’ve cum rubbing it. just after are your folds, leaking pure nectar that starts to pool; his tongue laps it up before it drops. “i’d be happy to perish if it was your pretty little pussy suffocating me.”
you roll your eyes even when his words had a clear effect on you, “since when were you so dramat— f-fuck!” nanami dives in without warning, licking and sucking your clit with his tongue, eyes closed from enjoying his meal. your lover groans, pulling you down more and more although you still subconsciously hover, “put your weight on me, princess. do it.”
nanami plunges his tongue into your hole, nose nudging your clit and it’s the one thing that gets you releasing your hold on your thighs, choking out mewls of desperation as you grind down on his face. soon, your hands take hold of his blonde hair, too, tugging on him to get him deeper. there’s a sharp inhale from below you and you meet his eyes, the stoic, dead look and yet you know the look of the overflow of love and lust for you anywhere — it can only be found in nanami kento’s eyes.
“k-kentoo… feels s’good…” you moan, pulling your weight back to support yourself with your arms, with the intent to land a hand on his aching dick. you squeeze, earning a low groan from the other at your sneaky move and he removes his mouth from you for a second.
“sneaky lil slut, aren’t you?” nanami laughs breathlessly before latching back onto your pussy, sending vibrations through your body when you press down on his cock once again. he loves it, hips lifting off the bed to meet your hand, while yours ground down on his relentless tongue.
“dirty baby… mhmp— my pretty, pretty wife sitting here, frilly apron and all,” nanami reaches up to turn your face down towards his, “fucking herself while i wasn’t home. i’m not sure if she deserves to cum.”
you immediately whine, the prospect of being denied your orgasm makes you delirious, abandoning your initial mission to tease as you switch to grinding your lower half into nanami’s face. “kento— i wanna cum, p-ple— oh, fuck!”
his tongue has descended to your hole, his thumb rubbing your clit instead. the sensations are too much, back arching and legs closing in around your husband’s head. “’m close— can i c-cum, please? please please mmfh—”
he could never hold you back from what’s natural, after all, he loves seeing you come apart, moans stuck in your throat and skin glimmering with a slight sheen of sweat — he’s memorised how you cum at this point, and you do just that when your thighs thrash around his head, hips stuttering as you come undone.
“cumming—! ’m cumming, ’m cumming!” you cry out his name, riding out the delicious high. nanami doesn’t stop his ministrations, helping you through your climax until you’re pushing at his shoulders because you’re so sensitive. 
nanami is far from done, though, helping you to scooch back down as he sits up, capturing your lips in a slow kiss. you taste yourself on his mouth, cumming so much that when you pull away, there’s a string that connects your lips together and nanami has to compose himself.
“you okay?” you wordlessly nod, making quick work of his pants, hearing a relieved sigh escape from the other when his cock is finally out. he has a pretty dick, always in awe before you have to take him, but you do it with no problem, the mushroom tip stretching your hole as you sink down on him. you’re so wet that your juices are dripping down his shaft, easing your way down as he mumbles praises in your ear, sending the hairs on your arm standing when he lets out a guttural groan once he bottoms out.
“there’s my girl… taking me so fuckin’ well,” nanami pecks your forehead as you start to move, arms looped around his shoulders for stability as you bounce on his cock, cries of his name interrupted by your moans. “feel so tight for me, shit.”
“’s all for you, kento,” you babble, tits bouncing as you make work of your hips. your thighs feel like cramping, your core is aching, but nanami’s fat cock just feels so good in you, filling up every part of your cunt that you can hardly give a shit, “my pussy’s y-yours… ah!”
“yeah? mine for me to cum in?” nanami wraps his arms around you, both of you falling back though it doesn’t stop your man from thrusting up into you. it’s so deep, hitting a spot that you let out a loud whimper, body limply sagging against your husband’s as he continues to ram into your poor, little cunt. with each thrust, there’s the slap of his pelvis against your ass, your cum making webs that connect his hips to your core and he’s groaning about how you got so tight from wanting to be filled.
“ye—yeah, yeah, wan’ your cum, kento,“ you mumble with a whine, your second orgasm approaching while your let him ruin you, cumming on a particular thrust that has your body tensing and muscles spasming, profanities and obscene sounds falling from your mouth before the man below you grunts.
“good girl, t-take my cum, baby,” nanami whispers, receiving drunken ‘yes’s’ from you and his thrusts halting before his eyes are rolling back, spurting his seed into you. he releases deep into you, thick ropes of cum that fill up your pussy until it’s spilling out from the sides. “that’s it…”
but while nanami is ready to receive your drowsy, lovestruck state, you have other plans, sitting up just a little while your hips continue to bounce on him. small pants leave your mouth, the sloppy, lewd sounds that your pussy makes only spur nanami on again, holding your body close to his while he promises to take care of his wife like a good husband does, indulging in your indecent desires, fucking you like a good girl and pumping you full of his cum until it’s all you can think about.
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2K notes · View notes
fillinforlater · 6 months
Text
Two Selfies and a GIF
Male Reader x Naoi Rei
Length: 2341 words
Tags: lovers on vacation, teasing and tempting, public sex, blowjob, overstimulation, face fuck, gagging, standing sex, anal, sweat, body appreciation, anal creampie, thrill of maybe getting caught
TW: sex in a public space, also barely any editing
Inspiration: an ask from quite some time ago
(A/N: I hope this fic makes you say Holy Moly. @writerpeach because he wanted another Rei piece lol)
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“Another sunny day! <3 Hope to see you all soon~”
You jump from your bed. Most of the time, you have no clue where the feeling of deja vu comes from, but this one is still palpable. A year ago, you were on vacation with Rei on some warm, small island nation, blessed with endless sunshine and she sent a similar selfie with a similar caption. Her hair was still brown back then, if your memory serves you right. 
Unlike last time however, you can’t dig straight into her cute pussy. Rei is not on the bed beside you, although that’s where she took the picture. In fact, she’s not even in the hotel room anymore. You check the washroom a final time before looking back down on your phone.
“Where are you?”
“By~ the~ pool~”
The phone has yet to disappear in the pockets of your shorts when you’ve already stormed out of the empty hotel room and towards the elevators. Alright, she said something about going to the pool, you remember, but you didn’t even notice that she took the selfie earlier. Hopefully this won’t end in a chase of never ending teases because you missed the moment she was horny and right next to you. 
You jump out of the elevator and across the lobby, both staff and visitors confused by your hurried, hectic behavior given the calm, vacation atmosphere. Your urgent need to feel your girlfriend's body, to see that face, adorned by beautiful blonde hair, with thick lips and a lewd glint in her eyes, it’s easily overtaking your desire of being perceived as normal. 
“By the pool isn’t accurate enough,” you puff and pant while your eyes go over the many, many pools and parasols and people. It seems Rei isn’t in the water or on one of the loungers, so you once again reach for your phone—just to be greeted by a couple of private messages.
“Still need you to fill these cheeks~ or did you mean my other cheeks?!”
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The wink, the tongue bite, the v-pose. She can never post this picture or else all those horny fanboys would blow infinite loads to it (not like they aren’t already doing it; don’t kid yourself). It’s sexy, tempting, only meant for you. You know what she wants, what she needs, what you promised her, yet she continues to play with you.
Until suddenly, another message. A third selfie? Even better.
“I hope you remember where this is~”
The changing booths by the pool. The unmistakable brown walls and baby blue curtains. Rei has complained about their design choice on the day of your arrival, now she’s there doing tik-tok-instagram-dance-challenge-thingys, flaunting what you’ve been craving. Needless to say you sprint there as fast as possible, disregarding all the warning signs about slipper tiles or blissfully ignorant tourists. 
You’re on your way to bliss, and nothing will stop you.
Rei sticks out among the few people in the area. Her tall figure, her blonde hair, not a second later and you get a hold on her shoulders and drag her into the next booth. The Japanese girl doesn’t even seem fazed. 
“There you are,” she sultrily says, eyes on yours through the mirror wall. Good heavens, you forgot about that thing. It’s going to be so much fun. With a single swoop you close the curtain and take a closer look at Rei’s fuckable body through the mirror.
“You look to good not to fuck,” you groan and pinch her cheeks, looking at her duckface, mesmerized by how plump her lips are, how good they will feel. Rei winks again and your hand is already past the waistband of your shorts. “Get on your knees, now.”
Rei’s smile is horny when she pulls down your shorts while getting on eye level with your cock, which jumps free and barely, sadly misses her face with the removal of your briefs. Rei spits in her hand and pumps you, focused on every inch of your hot rod. Suddenly, before any annoyance can urge you to do it yourself, she puts you on her lips. A heavy push that sends you back against the wall later, you're inside her and have to bite a lip to not groan out every profanity known to mankind. 
Feel her tongue swirl around your cockhead while an expression of determination forms on her face. You can see that she is already planning ahead on how to make this the best head she’s ever given you. Rei has an amazing bitch face, but it also fills you with thread. You have to surrender to her mouth, her lips, her tongue—now her hands that grab your hips and then—
“Oh, fuck, ouh fuck!”
Rei slams her head back and forth, your cock going in and out almost fully with every single repetition, while she gags and slobbers on every centimeter she forces into herself. A bizarre thing, face fucking herself on you, for your pleasure, yet you are about to wince for mercy. Rei’s mouth is perfect, but it’s all too fast, without warning she grinds the top, then the back of her tongue on your sensitive slit. You leak, you hiss, you struggle to stand or think.
“Re-Rei, t-too much, fuck.”
Rei pops you free from her lips, but they look eager to go back to it and apply even more pressure on your cock. She firmly holds the base of your dick and glares at you.
“Then do it yourself, pussy. Fill my cheeks already.”
It’s like she’s given you the controller to a video game back; though this is vastly superior than anything you have ever played. You pull at her hair, force her to cry out before flailing backwards against the opposite wall of the booth. This time you lay your cock on her lips on your own merit. 
“I’ll make you take that back.”
Pry her slutty mouth open, hope she is ready for impact and make her entire body convulse when you slam your pelvis into her face. The feeling of her tight, gagging throat is a lot different when you're in control, not better, not worse, though you like that Rei can take your roughness so well.
You close your eyes and begin to thrust, rarely giving her time to breathe, never giving yourself time to rest. The generously wet expedition into Rei's throat both feels like finding something new and being at home. A familiar warm feeling and alien sounds, your girlfriend's deepthroats are one of a kind.
Rei is opportunistic, her tongue now out of her mouth, receiving hits by your balls as you continue to fuck her face. It's one of those days apparently, when she is for some damn reason completely enamored with your sac. Maybe she likes the hisses that escape your lips because of the extra stimulation, maybe she is just impatient and wants what's inside of them.
When her already generously big and round cheeks are the biggest and roundest, you finally pull out and let her cough out the pool of saliva, two smaller pools underneath her eyes are also letting loose. You smack her purple-blue lips with your stiff length.
"I thought you could take it," you laugh at a set of coughs by Rei.
"I, hng, thought you'd fill my cheeks.
"Loser."
"Okay, get up."
Cheeky grin on her lips, Rei pushes herself off the ground and you push up something of your own, her tight crop top. You struggle to get the white fabric over her bountiful tits, but she is quick to help you by stretching out her arms high in the air. After a couple of tugs, you see the two massive melons bounce freely—or not. Two laughably tiny patches of silk, connected to each other and Rei’s neck form a bikini that is definitely too sexy for this pool, for any pool. 
“You really wanted to go out there wearing this?” you question, a finger already hooked in one of the patches.
“No, that’s why I’m still here~”
“Then it’s confiscated.”
A single pull and the bikini top falls off as if spider webs held it together. Now they are free, Rei’s magnificent melons, round like her cheeks, soft like her thighs, the nipples stiff like you. Before you give them a squeeze however, you surprise your girlfriend by roughly yanking up her skirt to above her hips. Rei yelps and loses her balance, but one of her hands finds safety on the mirror, mirror on the wall.
“Very unlike you to not go straight for my chest,” Rei teases, her voice still stable though her stand becomes a lot less stable when you get behind her and plant her firmly in front of the mirror. Now she needs both hands to not fall over with how you manhandle her light yet astoundingly thick frame. 
“They will get enough appreciation later.” Put emphasis on these words by nibbling her ear. She trembles in excitement.”I want to hear you say it again.”
“Say what again?” Rei once more teases, as you hook a finger into the flimsy excuse of a thong she’d call a stylish bikini, ready to reveal both her aroused entrances. “Oh, that. 
“I need you to fill my ass cheeks with your sticky load, pretty please.”
So fake, so lewd, yet so incomparably preposterous. The moment her bikini bottom falls down her long legs, Rei presses her bottom against your cock and it takes barely any effort for you to get it inside her. Talking about bottom, you're close to bottoming out, but Rei’s cute yet also growling cry has you scrambling to find something to gag her. You’re still in public, she can’t be that loud. All you find is the pathetic bikini, which you shove into her pretty little mouth. 
“I’m going to fuck you good, but keep it down,” you groan into her ear and give in to the risky, yet irresistible desire to plow her ass. Rei is trying her best, munching and soaking the green in her mouth rather than screaming out your name. You’ll buy her a new, better bikini after this anyways. If she’d ran around in that thing for more than a minute, then you’d need to fuck her the rest of your vacation and that would be—wait, would you even mind that?
You’d do it like this all day long, her wrists in your grasp, her body slightly tilted towards the mirror while you watch her tits bounce with every thrust into her tight back entrance. Rei is at your mercy, only upright because you want to. Each inch you pull out has her scrambling for footing, but you gladly give them back to her, into her, to the point where exactly this has her knees buckling. 
“Fuck you’re so… suffocating,” you mumble, the heat from your crotch spread up to your head long ago. The same goes for Rei: a hand on her freely jumping tits confirms it. Her eyes roll into the back of her head when you roll a nipple in between two lazy fingers. It’s not much, but you swear it made her even tighter and less stable. 
You lift a leg of hers, feel the sweaty meat of her full thigh make your hand sink deep. It reminds you of a pillow, a comfortable bed—now a waterbed because her orgasm is wet. Rei surrenders her beautiful back onto your chest, eyes closed, mouth ready to voice her pleasure but she has to keep it shut. Outside are people, laughing, gossiping, going about their lives. And in here, you recklessly pound in the still sensitive Rei.
It’s incredible how she still relaxes around you, how easy it is to fill her with a girthy cock. Honest to God, it has you tripping, forward, against the cold mirror. Rei spits out her bikini-gag when her hard nubs touch the reflective surface. You’d stop her ensuing moans from escaping her mouth, but you have to hold onto her thigh and breast. There are just not enough hands to touch every perfect part of her body—and her lips are definitely on that list.
Your orgasm is nigh, hence why you thrust frantically, the claps of a nye pelvis on nye ass now also louder than any background noise if someone is close enough. You can already hear the murmurs from behind the curtains. Someone whispers about hearing weird sounds—you have to bust before you get busted.
Rei’s fishnet-covered foot crawls up a wall. Fucking is now easier, so you put in the final gear and reach for her hips to to smash her back into you. Everything is too loud, too lewd; Rei’s expression, your expression, your combined groans, all the sweaty and love juice trailing down your legs—
The connection of your cock in her ass as if explodes on the final thrust you can muster up. Rei’s anal cavity is stretched and now stuffed to the fullest to the point where pulling out will cause a mess of cataclysmic proportions. You have to stay inside her for longer, plug up the cum filled hole as it sluttily clenches around your sensitive cock. 
“Fuck, that was perfect,” Rei groans, her body limp between you and the mirror. You look at her and smile for a second. That round face, adorable, makes for great selfies and family pictures. Mere moments ago, it was drooling and moaning uncontrollably. The duality of Rei.
“Yeah, but how the fuck do we clean this up?” you ask, hands mindlessly on your girlfriend's chest.
“I don’t know, I haven't planned for this scenario. I thought you’d fuck my face and I could swallow it all and then you could fill my ass in the hotel room.”
“Well, we can still do that, but we now need to get out of here.” You try to think for a second before your eyes fall on the fallen bikini thong on the floor. You stop massaging Rei’s breasts and instead reach for her pussy, wet and flushed. “By the way, what was your goal with that ‘bikini’?”
“O-oh, you really don’t like it?”
“It’s just that I wouldn’t be able to help myself but fuck you if you wore that. It’s way too revealing. I don’t want anyone seeing the pussy I fuck and the ass I fill and the tits I fondle—”
“So you want no one seeing me?” Rei moans softly when you rub her clit.
“Yes, cause I love you so fucking much, Rei.”
“Ts, looooser~”
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peachdues · 4 months
Text
THE SWEET FAR THING (TEASER)
Knight!Kyojuro x F!Royal!Reader
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Kyojuro my beloved, it is your time to shine again.
Have a sneak peek from my Royal AU featuring one of mt favorite tropes — sworn protector/guard x royal.
Obviously this will be super NSFW, who do y’all think I am.
CW: suggestive/horny content ahead.
Scene context: angy Knight Rengoku slips into your chambers late at night following a failed coup attempt.
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He’s angry and you know why — you’d directly disobeyed his orders and launched yourself headfirst into the chaos which erupted in the Great Hall.
His presence in your rooms is daunting; a dark anger ripples off him like waves of heat roll off stone in the summer, and yet he says not a word as he slowly stalks toward where you stand near the edge of your bed.
A predator stalking his prey.
Only when the tips of his boots meet the toes of your slippers, only when you feel the blustering heat rolling off his body and enveloping you within its suffocating warmth, does Sir Rengoku open his mouth.
“Where.” It is all he says, his voice low and rich. His eyes are twin pools of molten ore, but even now, you can see the rage simmering within their ochre depths.
“Where.” He repeats, though his tone is harsher.
“‘Where what, Sir Rengoku?” Your voice is as soft as the shadows cast around the walls of your chambers by the flames crackling merrily in your hearth.
A muscle feathers in his jaw. “Your wounds,” his face twists as though the very thought of any harm befalling you is offensive. “Where are they.”
It is not a question, but a demand; one that you know spells trouble if you should answer truthfully.
Trouble that piques your interest nonetheless; one that stokes a curiosity within you that you know is dangerous.
You pursue it anyways. “I am unharmed.”
The knight’s mouth curls into a snarl at the obviousness of your lie. “That is not what the healer claimed.”
“What good is the word of a healer against the crown?” Defiance rears its head within you, eager to both rise to his challenge and to see exactly how far you can push him. “Is my word not law?”
Rengoku scoffs as he steps closer, his leg slotting between your thighs and forcing you to lean back into tour bed frame for support. “It may be so,” he admits, though the fury in his eyes make no such concessions. “But empires built on baseless laws are inevitably doomed to fall.”
“Meaning?”
The Knight’s eyes flash. “Your words are horseshit and you know it.”
He’s right and but you’ll be damned before you admit it.
“You overstep,” the bite of your glare is belied by the way you’re forced to shift your weight awkwardly from foot to foot, as you try your best not to think about the burning press of his thigh between yours. “Now kindly remove yourself from my chambers.”
Rengoku makes no effort to move and his obstinacy thrills you.
Instead, his hands rise to the front tie of your dressing gown and begin tugging, slowly undoing the haphazard knot you’d fastened in your haste to make yourself decent.
Your fleeting moment of triumph is chased away by the breath which lodges in your throat.
“What are you doing?”
Your knight — your fiery, loyal, compassionate yet utterly insufferable knight — slides a single hand between the parted folds of your robe, coming to rest on the dip of your waist covered only by the thing fabric of your nightgown.
The weight of his palm feels like a brand against your skin. “Since you refuse to be forthright about the extent of your injuries,” Rengoku says, pushing the robe away from your shoulders. “I shall have to take inventory of them myself.”
Your dressing gown drops to the bed behind you before sliding to the floor to puddle around your feet. Wordlessly, Rengoku steps away just enough to kneel before you, though his eyes remain locked with yours.
You are wading into treacherous waters, and you know you are without any raft or life preserver which could keep you afloat.
“I shall scream,” you warn, though you do not mean it; not really. You intend only to give him an out, a means to come back to his senses before the blazing heat of his stare consumes you both. “I shall alert the rest of the palace guard.”
His fingers skim up the length of your shin, a phantom caress that is a mockery of how you truly wish for him to touch you.
“My duty is to guard the Crown and ensure no harm befalls it, your Majesty,” Rengoku’s breath follows the path carved by his hands up your legs. He pauses at the knee-length hemline of your nightgown, his chin resting against the slight bend in your leg.
It nearly frightens you how much you adore seeing him on his knees, peering up at you like you are the embodiment of salvation itself.
“So by all means, call forth the Guard,” the Knight’s fingers slowly push below the hem of your nightdress, brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “Call forth every living creature within the palace, for all I care. They will see only the Princess’s Knight, carrying out his sworn duties and managing her every need.”
Your chest begins to rise and fall rapidly as Rengoku’s fingers tease higher and higher up your thigh. “And what are my needs, Sir Rengoku?”
Your flame-haired protector only hums. “To have your wounds tended to, for starters,” and it takes everything in you not to let your head fall back with a cry as Rengoku presses a single, chaste kiss just above your knee.
But the sweetness of the gesture is undercut by the darkness of his gaze. “And to be punished for directly defying the orders of your Guard.”
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yes daddy punish me —
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leossmoonn · 4 months
Note
Hey do you think you could write about like the reader having an attitude when she comes home from work and mikey fucks the attitude out of her?
18+ under the cut - includes: cut to sex scene, unprotected sex. abby is like at a friends house or smth so dw just bc she’s not mentioned doesn’t mean she’s in the house
this is actually the worst thing i ever wrote im sorry but this is all i could give
you slam the door shut once you get inside. you kick off your shoes rather roughly, practically throwing your keys on the coffee table. mike looks to you, a little taken aback by your demeanor. usually he’s the one coming home throwing things and stomping around. it’s not like you’re a happy-go-lucky person, but you’re not one to be this upset about something unless it’s really bad.
and honestly, you didn’t know what you were upset about. it just seemed like today was the worst day in your entire life. you’d woken up late, didn’t get to eat breakfast, had the worst lunch ever, your meetings at work were a waste of time, and traffic was bad. the list could truly go on. so you weren’t really in the mood to plant a smile on your face and pretend like you weren’t irritated.
“hey, how was work?” mike asks. “fine,” you huff, walking to your shared bedroom. you change out of your work clothes, feeling as though they were suffocating and uncomfortable all day.
mike stands up from the couch, following you. “are you sure it was fine?”
“yes, mike!” you shout. “can you just drop it?”
mike reaches out to touch your arm. “i just want to make sure you’re okay.”
you twist your arm out of his grip, feeling like every little thing could just set you off. “i said i’m fine.” you try to keep your cool, but you can feel anger bubbling up inside of you.
“you can talk to me, you know. i’m here for you.”
“i don’t want to talk!” you yell. “just leave me alone for fucks sake!”
mike blinks at you like you just killed somebody. “o-kay,” he says after a long pause. “sorry for checking up on you,” he mumbles.
you groan, “can you not play the self-pity, nice-guy card?”
“i’m not! this is genuinely how i feel! imagine if the roles were reversed. you’d be feeling pretty shitty, too, right?”
“no because i’d know to leave you alone,” you say matter-of-factly.
“well, i’m not going to leave you alone.”
“why?” you ask, ready to throw something.
“because i believe that you need to tell me what’s wrong so you can not have an attitude.”
“well, if you’re just going to pester me, then i’ll just leave.” you slip on a pair of slippers that are by your bed, grabbing a jacket and heading out of the bedroom.
“where are you going?” he asks. “anywhere but here!” you shout.
“you can’t just run away! you’re starting to act like me.”
“yeah, well, maybe i need to not be around you for a while, then!”
mike rolls his eyes at you, knowing you’re just saying all this because you’re mad at him for some reason. he knows he should’ve left you alone, but now the conversation has gone too deep for him to just give up.
as you put a hand on the door, mike grabs your wrist and yanks you back.
“let go, mike. i’m a grown woman and can do what i want.”
“which is precisely why you’re staying here.” he looks into your eyes, his brows furrowed with determination. his grip on you is tight, but not harmful. there are small beads of sweats lining his forehead and his cheeks are slightly flushed from becoming worked up. his eyes are wide and pupils blown out, meaning that he’s been thinking of you in some way in between your fight.
“make me,” you say lowly, in almost a whisper.
you’re on top of the kitchen counter now, sweatpants and panties scattered on the ground. mike’s shirt is somewhere in the living room along with his belt. his jeans are pooled around his legs as he leans against the counter. your nails are digging into his shoulders, head thrown back and rubbing against the cabinets. mike’s face is buried into your neck, pants and whimpers becoming muffled into your skin. his cock is throbbing inside of you as your walls clamp down around him.
“mike, oh! right there, yes!” you moan, your eyes rolling behind your eyelids. he’s balls deep inside of you as he hits that spot expertly.
“fuck, baby. you feel so good,” he mumbles into your shoulder. he can feel your heart thud in your chest as he presses up against you. the sweat on your bodies mix as he thrusts faster. you wrap your legs around his waist, seemingly pulling him in tighter, making him push deeper inside of you. your hands grip his hair as you feel yourself orgasm and you cry out his name.
you feel him come inside of you in hot spurts, coming to a complete stop as he finishes. you both groan as he slips out of you. he grabs a piece of paper towel and wipes up his cum that’s running down your leg.
you’re still huffing and puffing, savoring the feeling of the cold wood and granite on your back and legs. mike gives you a small smile and you lean down and kiss his cheek.
“not so stressed now, huh?” he remarks. you roll your eyes and punch his shoulder. “it’s just a coincidence.”
“mm, maybe i should try this next time then and see if it correlates,” he says.
“maybe you should.”
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alientee · 4 months
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Mauga Head cannons
Just some headcannons about our big guy MAUGALOA MALOSI! Gender neutral reader ~
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He loves it when you run your hands through his hair like 100% will growl if you rub the right spot.
Will smack your ass in public no question. Loves it even more if you smack his ass back. Entertain his foolishness it hypes him up. When you both are out and walking he will put his hands in your back pocket if your wearing jeans, he expects you to do the same.
He doesn’t get jealous but he lets others know they don’t stand a chance. Anytime you guys are out at a bar and he sits you on his lap he smirks when he sees people staring but if someone stares at you for to long or try’s to make a advance he’s shoving his tongue down your throat and he doesn’t care who’s watching or if anyones uncomfortable.
Big on spoiling you. Anything you look at with interest he wants to get it for you. You’re his and it’s his job to make sure you have everything you want. Clothes, jewelry, food, liquor, collectibles, electronics. Anything you want he’d give you, sometimes you have to tell him to calm it down, that he doesn’t need to buy you everything you find interesting hoping he’d listen. He does not.
He most definitely buys lingerie and toys for you. If you come home and find it on your bed you’re wearing it that night. And if lingerie’s not your thing he prefers you naked anyway.
Melts when you spoil him in return. If you’re cooking for him he comes up behind you and holds your waist watching you even when you tell him to relax and sit. You buy him something he’s wearing it showing it off with pride. You pack his lunch and clean off his guns before a mission he kisses your face repeatedly until you remind him he’s gonna be late. He’s got a drawer for all the headbands you get him.
Bath time is always hectic. He’s so large so you have to get a big tub. Acts like a big baby when you both bathe together, he wants you to wash his hair and scrub his back. He splashes water on you if you say you don’t feel like it. He gets water EVERYWHERE without even trying. Showering together isn’t any better because he always wants to get dirty instead of getting clean if ya know what I mean.
Likes it when you get feisty with him. He even upsets you on purpose sometimes to get you riled up. You can get him to calm down when he’s angry but when you’re angry he wants to see how far you’ll take it.
Gets you guys matching shark slippers in all colors. Buys you diffrent turtle plushies too. Your beds full of em.
If you play video games with him be prepared. He’s competitive and will rub in in your face when he wins. If you win he’s gonna pout. Play as a team and he’ll scream in your ear if your winning in or losing it doesn’t matter he’s hyped up.
Definitely try’s to get a pet sea turtle and build an oasis pool for one. And somehow you encouraged the idea thinking it was just a funny thought. Now you both have a giant sea turtle named crush. You had to tell Mauga not to bring him a girlfriend or you’d have a turtle sanctuary you couldnt afford.
Mauga will and has fallen asleep on top of you. No matter how hot it is or no matter how heavy he is, you will be cuddled and he will not let you go even if you get out of it somehow. He always finds you again even in his sleep.
This chaotic gremlin will lick your face at random times just to spite you.
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xzaddyzanakinx · 4 months
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All Better
Warnings: Dom Anakin, Throat/Face fucking, mind probing, inappropriate use of the Force, exhibition
Info: Unburned Vader, helmet/no helmet, Ani is kinda mean but only cause he’s worried </3
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“Where are you?” Anakin’s voice echoed through your shared chambers.
You scrambled up from your velvety chaise lounge nestled in the corner of your personal reading room. Anakin rarely came home with such malice in his tone, and if he was asking for you the moment he returned… you were either the cause of his anger or you were the answer to it. You quickly left the room after sliding into your house slippers and straightening up your dress.
“Here!” You smiled, rushing to where he stood in the living room.
The second he saw you his helmet came off, hissing as he unlocked it. A scowl twisted his handsome features, lips curled in a snarl. His mechna-hand clutching his helmet as he lifted his arm to address you.
“What is this business about your personal ship?” He growled, “you think you can leave without telling me?”
Shit.
“No! Ani, no.” You rushed to put your hands on his broad chest, an attempt at calming him.
“Ani, you-I just-“ you sighed, looking into his narrowed eyes. “You’ve been so busy and-“
“And what? You decide to jettison off to Force knows where with that little rat of a handmaid you keep?” He spit, cutting you off.
You could almost feel the heat radiating from his anger flushed cheeks, his brows pointed downwards in a way he usually reserved for scolding subordinates.
“Anakin!” You smacked his shoulder, trying to get him to focus. “If you’d just let me explain-“
“Explain? I don’t need an explanation.” He growled, using his helmet to push you away from his chest. “I need an apology.”
“But I-“ you felt the muscles in your throat constricting, if you didn’t know better you would roll your eyes at his dramatics.
His flesh hand out and raised in your direction as he squeezed your neck through the force. His helmet flying into the wall beside him with such strength that he dented the durasteel. An unwanted addition to the mural you’d worked diligently on while he was away on a past mission.
“Hey! Watch-“ you coughed, his grip tighter around your throat.
“You dare to test me during a time like this?” He laughed coldly.
His flesh hand fell to his side though the hold on your neck stayed tight, he approached you at a snails pace. With his hands folded behind his back he lowered you to your knees with a quick nod of his head, the breath left your lungs in a grunt on impact. As you winced from the sharp pain in your knees a sick smile formed on his soft lips.
“Ah“ step, “pol”, step, “ah” step, “gy”.
Your jaw dropped with the weight of an invisible hand digging into your chin. You squirmed below him, feeling your head tilt upward against your will. You watched helplessly as he shed his robes, antagonizing you with a nudge to part your legs with each item he removed.
He stood before you now, naked. His muscles tense and bulging in his anger, his stomach purposefully clenched tight to make his tick cock stand tall and proud. Despite his behavior, a look of compassion crossed his eyes. A clear sign for you to deny him of this if you wished, his force hold on your chin loosening enough that you could utter the safe word if needed.
A sinister grin replaced any sign of mercy when you ignored his question, submitting to him as wanted. He closed the distance between you, dragging you across the floor by your hair gripping in his mechna-hand until you were face to face with his throbbing cock. Your dress dug in at your shoulders having been pulled down under the weight of your body as he moved you. Your breasts threatening to spill out, Anakin noticed your discomfort and so graciously lessened the burden for you. Ripping the silk straps that bore into your soft skin with one finger of his mechna-hand, allowing the loose fabric of the dress to pool around your hips.
“There, all better.” He cooed, smoothing your hair into a makeshift ponytail, securing you into position with the grip of his flesh hand.
Having wasted enough time looking at the drool dripping from your eager mouth he demanded you stick out your tongue, of course you obliged. Feeling the heady weight of his length slapping your tongue. Slowly he entered your mouth, he was in no mood for mercy today, going straight down your throat with no chance to adjust.
You gagged loudly, eyes watering when the tip brushed your uvula. The only sign that Anakin gave you to acknowledge your plight was a pleased groan. He wasn’t going to fuck your face today, no, he was going to use your mouth to fuck himself. He stood still, his hand gripping the back of your head while his mechna-hand rested lovingly in the crook of your neck, thumb brushing gently across your throat. Not to soothe you of course, but instead to feel his own cock bulging your throat.
He moved your head at a ridiculous pace, snot and tears rolling down your chin to mix with the saliva dripping down his balls. He allowed you the use of your hands, so you braced yourself against his muscular thighs. Digging in your fingernails to punish him right back though it was in vain, as your nails scraped at his hairy skin he hissed and you felt his cock twitch against your tongue.
He was enjoying it, that fucking bastard.
Just as the thought crossed your mind he forced your nose into the curls at the base of his thick girth, rolling your head so he could rock into your mouth. Effectively suffocating you, his musky scent numbing your mind.
“Don’t you curse at me.” He growled.
Your eyes shot open, how had you not realized he was picking through your thoughts?
“It’s easy when you’re cockdrunk.” You heard echoing through your skull, the vibration that came along with speaking via the force sent a tingle down your spine.
“Let’s see.” He hummed, resuming the forceful back and forth motion of your head.
“Boring.” He grunted, “stupid, stupid, boring, stupid.”
He was flicking through your memories of the past few days you’d spent alone while he was gone off to destroy something or kill someone, you rolled your eyes when you heard ‘first one’ echo in your brain. A swift thrust upward correcting your small symbol of annoyance and replacing it with a pained gag.
“There we go.” He sighed, a mixture of pleasure and intrigue at finding what he was looking for.
“How sweet.” He cooed, his mechna-hand stroking your cheek. “A gift for me?”
“What is it?” He asked, looking down at you like he expected you to answer him.
So you did, or at least you tried. Choking out incoherent noises in response to him, which he gladly pretended to understand, a wicked smirk curling his lip.
“Good. Very thoughtful.” He grunted, his movements of your head stilling in favor of thrusting into your mouth. Holding you firmly in place with both hands laced together at the back of your neck.
“You know what else is thoughtful?” A rhetorical question posed through gritted teeth.
“Getting permission,” he moaned, watching your eyebrows furrow, “from your husband to leave home.”
You tried to protest, tapping his leg, attempting to reach out through your force bond that was still established, still connecting him to your mind, but he blocked it. Tutting in disapproval.
“No excuses love, you know the rules.” He smiled softly, thumbing both cheeks as they hollowed out around his length.
“I only want to keep you safe!” He growled, soft smile gone, “the rules are there for a reason.” He reminded you.
“Imagine my fear when I saw your ship’s signature leaving the Death Star without prior approval. I was two systems away and you left your commlink behind.” He forcefully thrusted into your mouth, getting sloppier by the second.
“Threepio,” he scowled, “answered my ping. Think of how scary that was for me! You didn’t even bring your droid!”
His voice wavered, as if he was actually upset, on the verge of tears. But you couldn’t see, not through your own blurry eyes. His breathing ragged and uneven a hint at his true emotions.
“Threepio!” He shouted, great he was summoning him. Wonderful.
“Master Ani! You’ve returned.” You heard him answer, the sound of mechanical shuffling nearing you.
You’d never been so thankful for your well furnished living room, the sight of you half naked and disheveled was hidden from his poor innocent eyes. Though he was unfortunately privy to Anakin’s sweaty torso and the rapid thrusting he was doing.
“Oh my.” Threepio muttered, turning around, “what could you possibly need right now.”
“Tell her how terrified I was.” He demanded.
“Master Ani-“ he started.
“Tell her!” He shouted.
“Oh alright.” He huffed, you could barely hear him over the slurping wet noises your mouth was producing. He cleared his throat loudly, probably hoping Anakin would stop.
“Sorry to interrupt you Miss, but Master Anakin is quite right. He was distraught over your leave of absence unattended, as was I. I was unaware of your departure!” He responded, quickly shuffling away.
“Don’t worry, I’ll have your data from today wiped.” Anakin grunted, shouting after him.
“Oh thank the Maker.” You heard C-3PO mutter as he locked himself in a room down the hall.
“See?” Anakin asked, his thrusts slowing, “I was distraught.”
His words were meant to sound condescending, but failed miserably, he really was upset. A tinge of guilt flooded through you as you wiped at your eyes.
“I was so scared.” He whispered, moaning loudly after uttering the words. “Scared you’d been taken!”
His voice was broken, the shattered pieces piercing your heart. Anakin could feel your guilt, your self loathing for upsetting him through the Force bond. He whimpered lowly, hips becoming flush with your raw lips.
“D-don’t” his body shuddered as he doubled over, hot ropes of cum sliding down your abused throat, “don’t you ever do that to me again.”
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Tag-List:
@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @cherrylooney @star611 @tahliac11 @exquisit3corpse @jeldog @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @lilliethefairy @slut-4-ani @offthethirlwall @slutforhayden @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @no1klet @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes @shadowhuntyi @bobthe-turmpetman29
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shoyoist · 1 year
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.˚⊹ ꔫ — 𝐓𝐑. 𝐌𝐄𝐍 + 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 !!
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content: gn!reader. fluff. perhaps slightly suggestive. established relationship / implied marriage if you squint. characters are written as adults. hinted final timeline but not explicitly! ... note: so glad this one's done lmaoo i hope you like it! squeezed in all my faves hehehe<3
— ⊹˚. ♡ his voice always goes soft when he calls your name.
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° 𐐒𐐚 . HANMA SHUJI. BAJI KEISUKE. SANO SHINICHIRO.
"babydoll," he hums, voice low and saccharine as he slides over to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back to his chest. his voice is husky with sleep, hair messy and eyes lidded, as he hums a good mornin' into your ear and kisses the back of your neck.
you're in the cute little apron he'd got for you, fixing him a breakfast of waffles and coffee, currently in the middle of making the homemade jam you once came up with that he likes so much. "'s breakfast for me?" he asks, repeating the little petname, leaning down and pooling his weight onto your back as he rests his chin on the crook of your neck.
his shirtless chest is warm, and he smells good — sleepy, smoky and of fresh sheets because you'd both changed the bedsheets last night before tucking in. "it is for you, baby." you say, grinding berries into the little bowl you've got your hand around. "go brush your teeth and take a shower, m'kay? so you can have a nice morning meal before you leave for work."
"ain't it the weekend?" he sighs, not wanting to move off you. you're so soft, so sweet-smelling and so comforting to the touch. "fuck work. i'll stay home with you t'day."
"you can't, it's not the weekend. and it's not like you have weekends off anyway." you laugh, dropping the little glass pestle down and taking hold of his chin, tilting his face so you can kiss him on the cheek. "go on. and if you woke up earlier, you'd have more time to cuddle me before you leave."
he smiles at your little chide, and the lines of his cheek press into your lips. "what if we just cuddled now, hm?" his grip around your waist tightens. "right here, on the kitchen counter. prop you up like this, 'n kiss you here, there—"
he pushes the plates and bowls aside and lifts you up onto the counter easily, but just as he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss, there's a clink! and before either of you can react, the little bowl in which you'd been preparing his jam for him rolls off the counter and shatters onto the floor.
"fuck—" you exclaim, trying to jump down but he pushes you back and skirts some of the porcelain away with the bottom of his slipper, looking sheepishly down at the mess. "look what you did now!"
"uh," he runs a hand through his hair, stepping back and glancing at the broom before he looks back at you — teeth flashing as his lips pull into an apologetic grin. "sorry."
"no cuddles for you. and no nice morning meal of jammy waffles and hot coffee either, it seems." your own lips draw themselves into a tight line, unimpressed as he makes a big show of getting the broom and wet rag to clean up the berry goop and broken glass.
"aw, babydoll. don't be so fuckin' mean." he grumbles, jutting his bottom lip out in a fake pout. but as he finishes sweeping and clears the spill, his expression softens again — and he walks over to you, placing a gentle hand on your knee as he leans in for a make-up kiss.
"g'nna get you a real grinder, a'right? one of the fancy fuckin' ones from the department store. 's what my babydoll deserves." he mumbles against your lips, and you can't help but relieve your frown and smile. "in my favourite colour?"
"mhm," his voice cracks just a little as he hums, smiling back into the kiss. "in your favourite colour."
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° 𐐒𐐚 . KISAKI TETTA. KAKUCHO. HAITANI RAN.
"honey," he calls, shutting the door behind him and waiting for the beep of the automatic lock before he lets go of the knob and walks into the house. "i'm home."
for a moment, there's no answer and only a serene sort of quiet emanates from beyond the front hall — and he wonders if you aren't home. but then, he makes his way upstairs and hears the sound of your voice, muffled by a closed door that stands between him and you. you're in the bath, he realizes, a little wave of relief washing over him.
"honey," he knocks on the bathroom door before opening it a crack and peeking in. "i'm home."
"sweetheart!" you look up and see him at the door, and he has to pause and stare for a moment because you're so lovely, covered in soap suds and with your wet hair slicked back, the pretty silver lights he'd got for you hung up on the ceiling and bathing you in a dim, ethereal glow. "you're home!<3 come here, baby."
you pat the edge of the bath tub, and though he's in a suit because he'd had to attend an event (a tiring one) today, he takes his socks off and walks into the bathroom, sitting on the edge as you'd asked him to before leaning in and sliding a hand into your wet hair, pulling you in for a soft, lingering kiss. "missed you today."
"hmm," you muse, tilting your head to a side and reaching up to cup his cheek in a wet palm. "more than usual?"
"more than usual," he agrees, and you notice the wear in his eyes, in his expression. your thumb caresses the lift of his cheekbone for a moment, before your hand slides down to his shoulder and presses against his chest. "come join me in the bath, baby."
"hm?" he mutters, having nearly dozed off sitting in the bathroom, your hand gentle and comforting on his person and the warm air of the bathroom that was so unexpectedly nice after the heavily air conditioned meeting room he'd been sitting in for hours and hours on end. "what did you say, honey?"
"come join me in the bath." you say, reaching out with your other hand to hook a finger into the knot of his tie, loosening it and letting him breathe a little. he frowns a little, as if hesitant to agree, and you jump back in — "it'll be good for you to relax, baby. i'll wash your back 'n your hair. please?"
and it's not that he doesn't want to get in the bath with you, it's that the tub isn't really big enough for the two of you— but the pleading look you give him and the weariness in his body that lulls him downwards along with the insistent tug you give to his elbow, is all enough to convince him.
"alright," he sighs, standing back up and sliding his suit jacket off his shoulders with a shrug, slipping his arms out the sleeves and hanging it on the hook meant for his towel. you watch as he undresses, welcoming him into the tub with a kiss to his shoulder when he squeezes in.
you end up seated on the edge of the tub yourself, letting him relax in the soapy water as you use the showerhead to run water through his hair and over his back. he sighs, shutting his eyes and feeling so thankful as a wave of relaxation washes over him via your gentle hands and the warm, fragrant water.
“thank you, honey.” he mumbles, voice low with wear.
you give him a smile and kiss his wet hair. “it's no problem, baby. i love taking care of you.”
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° 𐐒𐐚 . RYUGUJI KEN. HAITANI RINDOU. KUROKAWA IZANA.
“princess,” he waves to you from across the street, seated on his motorcycle and leaning on the handlebars. your friends start giggling as you jump and spin around to look for him, fighting your blush.
his eyes are droopy as he meets your eyes from the distance, and he'd look bored if you didn't know him better. but you know he's just taking his time checking you out. and he's looking so good but also being so embarrassing, calling you cutesy names like that in public.
you nod to your friends, cheeks hot because they're winking at you and swooning over how perfect of a boyfriend your man is, and with a quick good-bye you hurry to the other side of the street.
he leans in and waits expectantly, and you give him a kiss on the cheek before climbing onto the back of his motorcycle. he takes your helmet from where he'd slung it on one of the handlebars, and you stand beside him feeling all pampered while he fits it carefully over your head and fastens the strap under your chin for you.
“you're embarrassing, baby.” you chide, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your cheek on his shoulder as he drives off.
“me? embarrassing?” he scoffs. “and how am i embarrassing? don't want me to come pick you up from work anymore?”
“no, it's not that!” you protest, and you see the grin that flits to his lips from the motorcycle mirror. rolling your eyes, you give him a pout that he won't see but knows is there on your pretty little mouth.
“then what is it, princess?” he chuckles fondly, and you twist your lips indignation before you continue.
“it just makes me shy when you call me that in public.” you confess, the heat returning to your cheeks again as you think about it. his voice just sounds so nice in your ear, and it reminds you of something else sometimes, when he calls you those names.
hearing it makes you feel hot in your cheeks and in your chest and in your stomach all in one go. “when i call you what in public, huh?” he asks, the smile on his face once more. you punch his shoulder gently, leaning back and shaking your head a little to free as much of your hair in the wind as you can with the helmet on. “that.”
“i don't know, princess, i'm not a mind reader.” he shrugs his shoulders, teasing, knowing exactly what you mean.
“you just said it again!” you cry out, as he starts to laugh. “when you call me princess! it makes me shy!”
he chuckles again, relaxing around your hold as you wrap your arms around him again, letting out a little hmph! that hits the back of his neck and sends a shiver down his spine.
“now princess,” he deadpans, slowing down and looking to the side as he makes a turn. “don't make a fuss.”
and ugh, it's just too easy for him to tease you. “baby!”
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whorediaries-09 · 2 months
Text
afterglow;
pairing- felix catton x reader warning(s) - hurt/comfort. (let me know if i should add more.) a/n- accepting requests for characters from saltburn!
the slut club
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'why'd I have to break what I love so much? it's on your face, don't walk away, I need to say
he wasn't stupid. he was rather someone who preferred not to study. he was smart, and caught on to what you were trying to teach pretty fast. you wondered why you'd been chosen to tutor him while he pretty much could've learnt all the things were explaining by himself. you felt inferior to him, to his large circle of friends and his charm. you didn't feel 'cool' enough to be his friend, and somewhere along your thoughts, you may have been intimidated solely by his presence.
'so, tomorrow at 6 pm, library, sound good?' he asked, walking backwards. you clutched your books closer to your chest, as you walked forward.
'yeah, but you'll topple and fall if you walk like that, careful felix,' you warned. he winked, joining you as he walked side by side. he put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his body. the deep rich scent of mahogany and cigarettes ghosted you.
you moved away from his touch. your clothes felt too sticky, books too heavy. the sun was scorching down upon you. your stomach felt too bulged. you were tired, horrendously so. it wasn't your day, it made you want to tear off your hair, rip off your skin.
'i was wondering if you'd want to go out sometime? me and you?' he asks, stopping you at your tracks. you take in a deep breath, your mind flashing different ways to dodge the situation. it's not that hard you think. slowly you gulp,
'felix, are you out of your mind? who gave you this stupid dare?'
he stares at you with an intense look in his eyes. and maybe you want to believe him, even if you rationally know he's pulling your leg. because everyone loved him. it was impossible not to love him. he was a perfect fantasy, someone who didn't seem to be real. he was a gateway to an escape from reality.
'i- i'm- i should go,' he says, turning on his heels. you watch him go, as the sunset paints it's hues on the sky. the dull hotness creeps into your heart, burning with an insatiable intensity that leaves you heaving. you feel terrible, as if you'd attacked him without reason, but you knew, you weren't wrong. it must have been a dare that farleigh had given him to complete.
*****
the knocks on your door grew aggressively louder. it wasn't a fragment of your dreams you realized, as you opened your eyes. the moonlight peeked through your curtains. you slipped you feet into your slippers, rubbing your eyes.
the college party invite hadn't reached you. it was too late to deal with drunk people shenanigans, but with the progressively loud knocks on the door, you doubted you'd be able to sleep. maybe it was the best option to chase the one who was causing the ruckus outside your door.
when you unlocked the door, a breathless felix towered over your body. he stared at you red, hollow eyed. he reeked of beer and cigarettes. he stumbled, closing the gap between you. pushing the door close with his feet, he breathed in your scent. he sighed, pulling you closer.
'j-just let me embrace you. you're so warm,' you wrapped your arms around his body, pulling yourself apart from his hold. you stared into his hazel like eyes, which were like sunlit branches or the moss covered oak. you tried to decipher his feelings, his true intentions.
'felix, can you please sit down for a moment?' you whispered. he nodded, sitting on your bedding. you sat down on your knees beside him. his palm travelled up to your cheek, stroking the skin. you smiled at him, holding his hand. you felt broken and hurt.
'do you really hate me that much?' he asked, tilting his head at an angle. he smiled, despite the tears that pooled on his waterline, waiting for you to answer.
'i-i don't hate you,'
'then why won't you go out with me?'
'because- well because you- you're you! and i- i'm me.'
'if it it's some sort of metaphorical bullshit then i don't get it. but what i do get it is that i really fucking like you. something about you feels so legit, so fucking real. like i want to know you, but you keep hiding from me, keep escaping me. you don't even talk to me except when you're scolding me...' you breathed heavy. he was legitimate with what he had meant. and he was hurt because of you. while you stood on the middle of the line of a desire to be solely his or a desire to be his companion, you were silent. you were living like an island, punishing him in silence.
'felix, we're different. don't you see? everyone around you loves you so much. you're so perfect. you're like a fantasy come into life. everyone puts on a show for you. just so you love them back. but i don't-i can't do that.'
'well that's why i like you so much! you don't put up a pretentious barrier like everyone else!' it was excruciating to see him so low. your heart throbbed against your ribcage as he grazed his temple against yours. he cradled your face in his palm. his breathing was tampered and irregular. but it felt like he was breathing just for you, just to you. when he whispered, it was like a secret. a secret just for you and him. a secret meant just to be kept, a secret to be held just between the two of you, a secret to be cherished between the two of you,
'i don't even think i like you. i think i might be in love with you,'
so maybe, he wasn't perfect. he had his insecurities, some things to hide. but he was ready, to be explored, to show his flaws. he wanted you, he wanted you with your flaws. he wanted you to be his reality, to escape the perfect prison he was in. he wanted you, to hold on to you, and not let you go.
so maybe it was all in your head. you were scared. but you didn't want to burn it down. you didn't mean to hurt him. you didn't want him to go, you didn't want to lose him. you wanted him, to escape reality of the imperfect prison you were in. you didn't want him to go. you wanted him, to hold on to him and not let him go. you didn't want to punish him in silence.
'only if the love is worth the fight,' you whispered back.
so when your lips found their path to his, you knew he'd meet you. even in the afterglow.
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