#the need to be wanted to be desired over all other things | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saturnville · 2 days

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do you want to, l. hamilton

pairing: he (lewis hamilton) x black best friend oc (anvika dawson) content: in which two friends cross a line people have been waiting for them to cross...and it works out. warning: 18+ content, angst, fluff, heavy dialogue song: do you want to by xscape an: part one here. part two here. their story is complete. thank you for reading <3 tags: @boujiestpoet @mauvecherie-writes @saintslewis @greedyjudge2 @vile-harlot @emjayewrites @ggaslyp1 @neeville

They hadn’t spoken in over a month. A bridge seemed to find its way between them. Not finding their way back to one another was unlike them. Most disagreements lasted at most three days. But, for there to have been 30 days of silence had her questioning if they’d come back from what they went through.

But, after a much-needed therapy session, a cry session with Onyx, and deep reflection, Anvika realized that space was the best thing she could give him. She was challenged to put herself in his shoes and that changed her perspective entirely.

“I want you to think from his perspective, Anvika,” her therapist began. She was an older Black woman with rich skin and silver hair. Her eyes were like honey and her voice was warm like the hug of an old church mother. “If you had feelings for him, right, whether you admitted them or not, and there came a time where the dam that contained all the feelings, emotions, thoughts, what have you, had broken and he was willing to drown in it all, just to turn around and downplay what occurred not even 12 hours later, how would you feel?”

Ouch. Having it repeated to her without bias struck her uncomfortably. Anvika twisted her lips as she pondered long and hard. How would she feel? Rejected? Embarrassed? Used? Maybe all of the above.

“What are you thinking about?” her therapist, Traci, asked. “And it doesn’t have to come out perfect or sound. Say how you feel.”

Suddenly, her chest heaved as her breaths grew deeper. Her tongue circled her teeth and her eyes welled with tears. “I love him. I always have, in one way or another. But, I cherish what we’ve got and I just don’t—“ she sighed deeply. “I’m afraid for it to be ruined and I lose another man that I love.”

Traci hummed. “So, you love him. Always have, you’ve built a good friendship with him, which could be a solid foundation for a potential romantic relationship, which he seemingly wants, but you’re afraid that it would go wrong and you’d lose him. What else are you afraid of?”

“Just…that I won’t be more than a body to keep his bed warm. That’s why my ex and I split. Sure, we were together, but he was more invested in sex than he was in cultivating and strengthening our relationship. Intimacy is important, but only being desired for your body does something to a girl. I don’t want that…and so I’m afraid of being nothing more than a warm body. And now I’m upset because I teetered on my boundaries which were no sex with anyone that wasn’t my significant other. I don’t have a significant other, Traci. I have a best friend…or had.”

Anvika’s voice shook as she spoke. She fiddled with the necklaces stacked around her neck. 3 gold necklaces—Queen Nefertiti, a heart, and the number 44. Traci’s eyes followed her hands. “What’s 44 stand for?”

Anvika’s hands stalled. Her voice was quiet: “It’s his racing number. He races today.”

“You wear it often?”

Anvika nodded.

“Why?” Traci pressed, pushing her glasses above her head.

“It helps me feel close to him when he’s away. He’s always away.”

Another hum came from Traci. “Does he wear anything that represents you?”

It was small. A simple word on his neck was often hidden by his braided hair. Completion. The definition of her name. He’d gotten it a year prior and never told her until she was helping him take his braids down and noticed the fresh ink there. Her heart grew three sizes that day.

Anvika swallowed thickly. “My name means strong and complete. He has completion tattooed on his neck.”

Traci chuckled in amusement. Breakthrough was happening.

“Sounds to me that the relationship the two of you have goes deeper than you’d like to admit. You shouldn’t beat yourself over the night you shared with him. We all have moments where we teeter-totter. And even though you didn’t want to, you did. But not only did you do it, you did it with a man who cherishes you, who honors you, who respects you. He is still your closest friend, but who is to say that your lover shouldn’t first be your friend? The choice is yours and I will walk with you through whatever decision you make. Just take the time to think about it, Anvika.”

She’d thought about it every day since.

Misery wasn’t a state he found himself in often, let alone one that he allowed himself to bask in. He was a firm believer in not allowing his circumstances to permanently alter his mood; his actions proved that he wasn’t the believer he thought he was.

His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. His words were more limited than usual. His animations were not quite animated. He was going through the motions day by day, a boring routine that grew exhausting. He was better than this and he knew it. But, his usual methods of taking a run, spending time with loved ones, and giving in to his sweet tooth didn’t help. If anything, they made him feel worse. All because they were activities they did together. It seemed as though his entire life was attached to her and it drove him mad.

He didn’t think there’d be a day where his mood would be affected by his disconnect from her. And it manifested physically. Lewis was tired often, which was a symptom of the fast-paced lifestyle, but for it to show in his eyes and the slowness of his movements was a clear indication that he was not okay.

Lewis sighed into his pillow as his phone dinged once again. If he could throw it away, he would. His eyes glanced at the screen. Ani. The fourth message he’d received from her and the fourth time he wouldn’t reply. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t have much to say.

You raced well, it read. I hope you’re doing well…I hope we cross paths again when you’re ready.

He grappled with responding. His heart yearned to speak with her but his mind overpowered his ability to pick up the phone. What would he respond with? Thanks, not ready to see you because you hurt my heart and made me feel rejected. Talk soon. He’d be damned.

He did a double-take after a moment. You raced well. She watched? His heart twisted. She attended every race she could, amid screaming fans jumping for joy. He could still hear her strained voice chanting his name when he walked on the track.

“Lewis!”

His conversation with the gentleman ahead of him was stopped. The racer apologized graciously and turned to see Anvika at the top of the bleachers waving excitedly. It was her first international race and she was over the moon to be there. He chuckled and beckoned her down.

She shuffled through the bleachers and was soon guided by a security guard to where he stood. She smiled widely. “So, how do you feel?” Her hands grabbed his own and squeezed. She was about to burst.

“I feel good,” he said with a smile. “How do you feel?”

“I’m so excited! I hardly ever leave the country unless it’s for business, so to be here and supporting you--so exciting!” The small bounce she did had the jewelry around her neck bobbing. His eyes dropped to her exposed collarbone--Nefertiti, a gold heart, and the number 44. Bright and shiny like it was brand new. His eyebrow raised. “That new?” His finger curled around the chain, tugging softly. The action had her stumbling toward him.

“Oh, this?” she quipped. “Yeah. I’m not too much of a jersey girl but I couldn’t come without repping you at all. My hat’s up there with Onyx.” She pointed to the bleachers. She hoped it didn’t get swiped--she made him sign it.

The smile on his face matched hers. For them to have been friends, she cared for him in ways that would have people assuming otherwise. Wearing someone’s name or number around your neck, closest to your heart, spoke volumes. And she’d chosen to do it for him. The honor he felt was immense. Lewis wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed his lips against her forehead. “You, my love, are a gem.”

“Jeez,” he huffed as he buried his head further into the pillow. Soon, his pillow was wet with tears. He hated to admit how much he missed her. How much he craved hearing her laugh, seeing her smile, or feeling the weight of her when she’d fall asleep on his shoulder. He missed her.

They crossed paths the following Monday after the Met Gala. Lewis was waiting in a lobby for his car to arrive when he heard her call his name in hopes he’d respond. It was an awkward reunion. Neither party knew what to say or what to do. Anvika was surprised he’d spoken to her and Lewis was gobsmacked at her beauty.

“You look beautiful,” he said after some time.

She always claimed red wasn’t her color, but she proved herself wrong and proved himself right. Her dress was much different than what she normally went for and it only emphasized the impact she made once she hit the carpet. The scarlet red complimented the richness of her complexion beautifully and the rose-like details were stunning. And her heels were like liquid gold on her feet. She’d done her hair differently as well. Her dark brown hair was pressed and in an intricate updo that showcased her ethereal features from her dark eyebrows to her round lips. Anvika Dawson was a gem.

Anvika smiled small, feeling flustered under his intense gaze. Her hands smoothed the material of her dress. “Thank you. You do, too.” And she meant it. He was an ethereal being. She often wondered if he was real. Her fingers clawed at her dress as she fought the urge to run her fingers cross his shoulder.

He was dressed to the nines and in her opinion, had been the best dressed gentleman there. She always adored him in black. It made him look powerful and like the king of the room. And his skin, rich and golden, glowed beneath the ambient lights.

Silence covered the two of them like a thin blanket--uncomfortable. Lewis couldn’t remember a time when he was uncomfortable in her presence…until now. Moments later, his security detail let him know the car was present. He prepared to bid his farewells but was stopped by Anvika’s hand on his arm.

“Wait…are you staying at the hotel with the…” In a nervous ramble, she went on and on describing the luxurious building she was put in on behalf of her agency. It was 22 stories tall with the most beautiful lights surrounding the entryway, a maroon carpet leading into the foyer, and a surplus of botanical plants that made her feel as though she was walking through a palace. Lewis, amused by her nervous tangent, nodded.

Anvika’s eyes lit up with hope. “Will you…if you’re up to it…will you stop by, please? I-I’m on the 14th floor, room 44. Will you please just,” she sighed deeply and tore her eyes from his just momentarily, “I miss you, Lewis. And…”

And there it was. He stammered slightly and suddenly felt small under her hopeful gaze. He missed her too. He nodded once more. Anvika released the breath she had no clue she held and assured him she’d be there whenever he decided to come, just to let her know. Before he was whisked away by security, he heard her voice in his ears once again, “Thank you.”

Anvika’s feet nearly burned holes in the floor as she paced around her suite. Her thumb was in her mouth, a chewtoy for her nerves. Her eyes cut toward the small wall clock near the bathroom. He said he’d arrive within an hour. Two minutes late. Would he show up? Her heart was a snare drum in her chest as she contemplated her emotions.

“Calm down,” she ordered herself, though it came out muffled as her teeth drug down the side of her thumb, pulling a tag of sensitive skin with it. She winced when she tugged too hard. “Dammit.”

Then, there was a soft knock. Her head shot up and a gasp came from her. He came. Anvika frantically patted her hair, hoping that her bun didn’t look awful, and sped over to the suite door. She took a deep breath before pulling it open. She smiled small, “Hi.” She moved out of the way to welcome his presence.

Falling into natural order, Lewis made his way toward the couch in the living area of the suite. He sat off to the side, nearest the right arm of the couch with his hands in his lap. She sat at the opposite end with her knees toward inward, brushing against his gently. His eyes were glued to the floor. The tenseness made her uneasy.

She cleared her throat awkwardly and played with the loose strings at the cuff of her (his) oversized sweatshirt. “I had a therapy session not too long after everything happened,” she began. Her admission made him look at her. His eyes, once so full of life and love, were just as dull as the walls surrounding them. “We had what they call a breakthrough. You know, finally getting to the root cause of why we think, act, and speak the way we do. And it was humbling, to say the least…to realize that I hurt you in a way I never thought I was capable of.”

She chuckled breathlessly but nothing was funny. Her tongue circled her teeth, a nervous habit, as she fought to keep the tears at bay. Lewis’ eyes, prickling slowly, stayed on her.

“You left. And that hurt me. But you left because I hurt you. That hurt even more. And I am so sorry. You’ve been nothing but good to me and I let my own fears and insecurities cloud my judgment. I was so focused on not screwing up our friendship that I managed to do it anyway because I was neglecting how you’d feel, too.”

He listened intently. So, she continued, “You asked what I was scared of. I never gave you a clear answer, not because I didn’t know, but because I didn’t want to be honest with you. And simply put, the idea of not only loving another man but losing another man that I love scares me. You already know I was in that messed up situation where I was nothing more than a trophy and a warm body. I didn’t want to be that for any man again. I swore I would never be that for any man again.”

Lewis’ eyes softened and for the first time since they sat down, he spoke, “You know you’re much more than that.” His hand then found its way to her thigh, caressing it softly.

Anvika gave a closed-lipped smile. “And, um…I was upset because I had these strict boundaries, you know, no significant other means no type of intimate activity, right? I crossed that line with you and I beat myself up over it. In my head, I totally rejected this order I placed on myself and just felt internally guilty because at the time, I thought that was the beginning of experiencing heartache again. That manifested into a fear of ruining our friendship because we’d never crossed a line like that before. We went from friends to lovers in the span of 12 hours, and Lewis, that was a crazy shift.

“You always hear stories about people trying the relationship thing with their friends and they end up never speaking again. You mean too much to me for us to never speak again, so when I say I was miserable, that’s what I mean, especially because I put us in this position. None of this excuses what I did, but it was time to finally be honest. I’m sorry.”

Silence. She hated silence. Especially when it was uncomfortable. He still hadn’t said anything but she saw the wheels turning in his head. She watched as his eyes darted from left to right, a sign that he was running through a series of logical thoughts--a million a minute. She waited patiently for his response.

“I felt rejected,” he said softly. “Like I was good for that moment where you let loose but then after that…”

Anvika sighed heavily. The conversation was going deeper than she anticipated.

Lewis dropped his hand from her thigh and brought it to his face, rubbing softly. “When you care for someone all you want to do is be there for them. To be someone that gives them the love, honor, and respect they deserve. I’ve seen how these situations have broken you down and ruined your self-esteem and trust in men, and yet, deep down even while simply being a friend, all I wanted to do was love you and show you differently. So when that happened…what I thought was placed in my grasp was taken just as quickly as it was given. And I would think, is the thought of being with me that bad? That does something to a person, Ani.”

There was a strain in voice as he asked her what he’d been thinking for weeks. Her confessions gave more insight on why she acted the way she did, but just as she said, it didn’t change the fact that he was hurting. But, to lay his heart on the table the way he wanted with her awaiting ears was relieving. Maybe they would get somewhere.

“I know, darling, and I am sorry,” she said quickly between his words, but quickly retreated so he could continue. “Keep going…”

“I can’t make you love me the way I love you, I can’t make you mean it in the way that I do, and I can’t make you want something more with me,” he said truthfully though the thought pained him. “So if friends is what keeps you in my life then--”

“I want to try,” Anvika cut him off. His eyes cut to her. His heart began to pound in his chest. “I was told that your lover should be your friend. I’ve experienced you as my friend for six years and I’m starting to understand that it’s okay for those lines to blur, but I only want that with you. If you’ll still have me.” Though her words ceased, her eyes, filled with tears, pleaded with him. Lewis exhaled.

You, my love, are a gem.

At that moment, Anvika understood why people made love often. She wasn’t a very sexual person, opting for other forms of intimacy to deepen her relationship with her partner. But when it came to Lewis, she knew he would have her addicted and yearning for more.

He was so attentive to the needs of her body and gentle in executing them. He was patient, knowing he was the first man she’d been with in four years and that alone made her desire for him grow greater.

Each graze of his lips against her jaw, sensual caress of her chest, and deep thrust had her singing his name. It was the sweetest song he’d heard.

Lewis made love to her slowly, just as she requested.

“Can you go slow, please?” Her voice was hardly above a whisper.

“Whatever you want, baby.”

He was used to things moving fast, but he was willing to slow down as much as necessary. Plus, it gave him the opportunity to take in every face she made as he dug deep into her.

Anvika was pressed against him, her legs trembling around his waist as he guided her movements. Her head was thrown back as she succumbed to the pleasure she’d been without for so long. Her jaw hung as a string of profanities fell. Lewis couldn’t help but chuckle. “Feel good, baby?”

Anvika let out a breathy whine as her body grew warmer and warmer. The whine turned into a sharp gasp when Lewis’ tattooed hand slithered around her neck and squeezed. “Lewis.” His action made her jerk against him.

“I asked you a question, beloved,” he whispered against her jaw, peppering kisses along her damp skin.

Anvika nodded, “Yes! So good.” Lewis turned her head and brought his mouth to hers—a heated exchange of moans and passion transferred from one to another. “I love you.” The words fell from her lips as she reached her peak.

To be loved. Against her skin, he whispered back, “I love you.”

The water felt amazing against her skin as she stood beneath the rainfall-like water head. It soaked her once pressed hair, causing it to shrink and revert to its natural state. When Anvika wiped the water from her race, she saw Lewis staring at her, eyes full of love with hints of lust.

“What?” she asked innocently, welcoming the forthcoming feeling of his hands at her hips.

“You’re pretty,” he said simply. He swirled a strand of her hair around his finger and watched as it recoiled. Her big eyes followed his movement. “Very pretty.”

Anvika smiled like a school-girl who found out her crush liked her back. “You are, too.” She pecked his lips and prepared to turn toward the water again but was halted by Lewis pressing her against the wall, hiking her leg up, and capturing her lips in a soul-snatching kiss.

She whimpered and tossed her arms around his shoulders. His hand slid between them, his fingers dancing along her most sensitive place, working her up. “Can I?” His arousal nudged her thigh, desperate to get a release in her warmth.

“Yes…”

They ordered takeout and ate comfortably on her bed whilst Sex in the City played on the television in the background. They were bare as the day they were born, but it didn’t spark the same excitement as it did just hours before. It felt natural and domestic.

Anvika sat on his lap, eyes fixed on the television screen as he fed her their shared vegan pasta. The sounds of her heavy chewing made him laugh. “Is it good?” She hummed.

“You’re the only person that could convince me to eat vegan food.”

Lewis shrugged with a lazy smile, claiming for himself what she did not take off the fork. “Because I’m magical.”

Anvika giggled and nodded, pressing her lips against his. “You are, darling, and I love you because of it.”

Lewis wouldn’t get used to hearing that. What scared her before came so naturally in the moment and he was so thankful that it did. He finally got what he wanted and he’d never let her go.

He smiled and it finally reached his eyes, “I love you more.”

And it was so.

#saturnville #black!reader #black reader #original writing #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 x black!reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #sir lewis hamilton #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader

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whimsyeo · 19 hours

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pretty little thing

જ⁀➴ park seonghwa x fem!reader

❝you knew there must be another side to him. one with needs and wants and hidden desires. you couldn't help but wonder what that side might look like.❞

wc; 2.4k

cw; mdni, nerd!seonghwa, college au, SMUT, first time together, established relationship, soft dom hwa, thigh riding, slight praise kink, dacryphila, unprotected sex, overuse of pet names, hwa in glasses (a warning of its own)

notes; i hope you all enjoy♡

🎧 all mine by plaza + hrs & hrs by muni long

When you first met Park Seonghwa, you hadn't thought much of him. Other than he was devastatingly beautiful, with the kind of smile you'd expect sweet woodland creatures to flock to and a soft spoken voice that matched absolutely everything else about him. His long wavy hair curling onto his reddened cheeks and big round eyes, and his perfectly color coordinated attire. The only thing that even could possibly take away from it all were the large black rimmed glasses he wore everyday. Too big for his face, really, with the way they were constantly slipping down his nose.

They were just as clumsy as the rest of his endearingly awkward demeanor. His sheepish half smiles when you complimented his outfits and stuttered apologies after accidentally bumping into you in the halls. Everything about Seonghwa was exactly that. Endearing.

So sweet your teeth physically hurt. So cute, a constant smile remained on your face even hours after your shared elective class ended. You felt yourself fall rather quickly for the shy, darling film studies major. Enamored by his ramblings about the Star Wars franchise over lunch and the animal crossing stickers decorating his laptop case.

He wasn't the type you'd normally go for, not at all. He couldn't be more different, really. Seonghwa looked like a doll in comparison to the almost rugged quality of your previous exes. Where they were rough edges and blatant arrogance, he was all kind eyes and soft lines. Tender and pure and all things good in the world.

You didn't dare let yourself believe you had him fully figured out - it was much to early to say that exactly - but you felt you had a pretty good idea. Especially after you ended up being the one to ask him out, following his many failed attempts at getting the words out for himself. Only to then end up helping him recollect the folders he had dropped in surprise at your offer as he struggled out a flustered and enthusiastic yes.

You knew there must be something more to him. Not in a bad way by any means - in the time you'd come to know Seonghwa, you'd come to trust that a bad bone didn’t exist inside his body. But more so, another side to him. One with needs and wants and hidden desires. You couldn't help but wonder what that side might look like.

You caught a glimpse, eventually. On a night your dinner plans ran later than usual as you two sat under the setting sun hours after your plates had been cleared, eventually having to be run off by the workers who needed to close up shop. The night still didn't end for you two even then, and somehow you wound up in the backseat of Seonghwa's car, straddling his lap as you kissed each other with a ferocity that seemed to have come out of nowhere.

Seonghwa had started it, a short staring match that led to him kissing you with a fever you hadn't expected him to possess. With it came his hands wandering the expanse of your torso, touching and squeezing like at any minute you could disappear from his grasp. You certainly don't plan on it, but after a while you do have to pull back to catch your breath.

While your chest is heaving, you catch sight of it. A certain fire in Seonghwa's eyes that wasn't there only moments ago. His gaze on you feels scolding hot as he trails his eyes over you, appearing much like a starved man ready to dive in. He doesn't, that night at least. He suggests you both turn in for the day and continue this another time. You pout, and he laughs and kisses it away, but stands by his word.

You gather that Seonghwa didn't want your first time together to be in his car, of all places, so you offer a weekend movie night as a sort of compromise. He agrees with a knowing smile.

It doesn't last long. You can't focus on whatever classic romance film Seonghwa picked out, even if any other time you would've gladly listen to his thoughts and critics about the storyline. Today, you only have one thing on your mind, and it appears Seonghwa does to.

It doesn't take very long to wind up with your pants discarded on the floor, Seonghwa's hands holding either side of your hips as you pathetically rut against the fabric of his jeans with a desperation you've never quite felt before.

He's still the same Seonghwa. Dressed to the nines even on such a causal hangout with you, although his newspaper boy hat has since been removed in your haste to run your fingers through his hair only moments ago. His same, unruly raven locks are now framing his face in a way that shouldn't be as flattering of a picture as it is.

It's the same Seonghwa, with the same oversized, black rimmed glasses currently sliding down his face. Your heart almost physically aches from wanting so bad to reach out and push them back up his nose bridge.

"Pretty baby," he coos, a feather like touch dragging along your jaw. Seonghwa loved calling you that. Pretty. "You could probably come just like this, hmm? You'd love it, too, wouldn't you?"

The movie he'd put on earlier is still running behind you. It had barley started before you found yourself in this exact position. Seonghwa's hardly even done anything, but your mind is almost drifting from you as your struggle to register his questions, and the verbal response you realize he's expecting.

"Y-yes," you manage, only to hope like hell it's enough.

No praise, just a nod, but he doesn't click his tongue either. You whine high in your throat. Barely enough.

"Show me then, pretty," he instructs so casually. "Come for me, just like this."

The demand causes a swoop in your lower stomach, lurching you embarrassingly closer to that high your so desperately chasing. You can't bring your hips to slow down, but you have to let him know what you actually want.

"But-but," you start, already feeling your eyes going damp. It should be embarrassing that Seonghwa could so easily bring you to tears without ever lifting a finger. "I want you... inside. When I cum."

Seonghwa nods slowly, his saccharine smile now seeming almost mocking, "I'll give you what you want, angel. I'm not done with you yet."

At that, it doesn't take more than a few more seconds for your hips to stutter as your climax crashes down on you. You ride out your high in slow motions that are almost entirely helped by his hold on your hips. Even as your movements stop, his doesn't, and you whimper from the sensitivity of your core against his now thoroughly soaked pants.

"Sorry," you mutter a little sadly, once your grounded slightly back to Earth. "About your pants."

Seonghwa laughs lowly, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hips, "You're okay, baby. Don't apologize."

You're sure you are already red in the face, your cheeks tingling from the heat and your unsteady breathing but the way he's staring up at you certainly doesn't help your case in the slightest.

He brings one hand up to cup your face, pulling you down to meet his soft lips. The taste of his usual strawberry lip balm still remains, despite all the kissing you've done earlier in the night. You had no reason not to believe Seonghwa didn't constantly smell of fresh fruit and vanilla. A fatal combo that caused a painful twist in your chest - he was always so sweet, even like this. Bright shining eyes glazed over with a certain haze that still didn't take at all away from his usual gentle touches and adoring words.

"Lay down for me," he directs when you pull away, his soft breath fanning over your bottom lip.

Like it's your only calling, you scramble to follow his orders. Nearly falling off his lap and onto the floor entirely in your haste. He, in contrast, moves much slower. Taking his absolute time on every button of his shirt while his intense watch on you never wavers.

Before entirely undressing himself, he helps you remove your ruined panties and finishes pulling your crinkled shirt over your head. You lay bare in front of his approving gaze as he rakes up and down your figure, back to your face and back down again.

"Pretty little thing," he mumbles, his voice sounding impossibly deeper to your love stricken ears. He runs an open palm down the expanse of your side. "All mine."

You nod, so quick you're positive your hair is nothing more than a mess sprayed across the cushions. Seonghwa grins at your eagerness and rewards you by moving his hand to cup your core.

It's a light touch, hardly any pressure applied at all, but you simply can't help the moan that leaves you. From the sensitivity and the bone deep craving for his touch that you haven't felt where you truly needed it until now.

His thumb makes lazy circles of your clit as he watches your every expression with keen interest. You wonder if it shows on your face just how hard your fighting not to buck up into his touch to seek even more friction. Take what he gives you, you tell yourself. As quickly as Seonghwa could bring you pleasure, he could just as easily take it away.

He easily slips one finger into you, and a second after only a few lone pumps of his hand. You hold his stare with some difficulty as the pleasure builds, that same ball of heat beginning to build within you.

Then just like that, he takes it away. You could almost cry, but you realize what's coming.

"Please," you beg, despite knowing you don't really have to. Maybe you're just hoping to break his resolve as much as he's completely destroyed yours - make him as rushed and desperate as you feel right now.

Seonghwa shushes you softly, rubbing the inside of your thigh, "I got you, pretty."

You all but melt, trusting and believing his words with a baited breath. It still feels like forever until he's dragging the head of his cock along your folds. You squirm despite yourself, craving for absolutely anything more, and he finally gives in.

The stretch is pleasant, overwhelming in the best way possible. Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as he takes his absolute time. Your torn between relishing in the feeling and begging him to hurry up.

You decide on neither before he's entirely bottomed out, and he keeps himself there while you adjust to the feeling. Your mouth opening and closing with no sensible words coming to mind.

"How do you feel, pretty?" He asks, sounding completely put together and collected and everything you're not at the moment.

"Good. Full," you eventually say, the words sounding broken to even your own ears. You've never been so turned on in your life. "You can move."

He studies your expression for another passing moment, "You're sure?"

You nod, and the first sign of his resolve crumbles. His props his arms up by either side of your head as he begins fucking into you, a languid pace that you can't tell is for your sake or by his choice. You lean towards the latter, as all too soon you realize it's not enough.

"More, please," you tell him, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders. "Faster."

Seonghwa's gaze lifts up to study your face, a half smirk playing on his lips, "What, am I not giving my baby enough now?"

You would have never thought after your first meeting with Seonghwa that he would have such a mouth on him. That you would ever be on the receiving end of his desire, much less, or that it would look at all like this.

"Please, Hwa," you all but beg, feeling the first tear slip down your face.

Seonghwa cooes, bringing one of his hands to delicately wipe at your cheek. He looks so pleased, his own breathing even-keeled much unlike your own.

He hums in mock thought, "Okay, love. If you're sure."

Almost too quickly, Seonghwa switches to pounding into you at a surprising pace. Your jaw falls open in a cut off gasp while Seonghwa finally starts letting sounds of pleasure fall from his own mouth.

Unable to bare having him so close yet not close enough for a moment longer, you pull him down until your chests are flush against one another. Slipping your fingers through his hair, you use the newfound hold to bring your lips together messily. As if trying to match his hurry, you kiss him absolutely breathless, until his chest is heaving nearly as much as yours.

Seonghwa is the first to pull away this time, refusing to travel far and he keeps his forehead pressed against yours. Already, you feel another climax building up in you, and you know you won't last much longer.

"Close," you manage between moans and gasps, his pace unforgiving and filling you up just right.

He nods against you, his free hand coming up to guide your lips to his for another brief peck, "I got you, pretty. Let go for me."

It really doesn't take much more than that. Still, Seonghwa brings his fingers down to rub at your clit, the overwhelming sensation nearly causing you to jerk away from his touch. Your high crashes down on you in mere seconds, and you imagine Seonghwa's must follow quickly suit, as a strangled groan falls from his lips in tandem above you.

You catch your breath for a moment, reeling a bit from having possibly the most intense orgasm of your life. Eventually you recognize the feeling of gentle kisses being left all over your face when two are pressed over your closed eyelids. You blink them open, coming to meet Seonghwa's glowing grin first thing.

"There's my pretty girl," he practically whispers. You feel like you could cry all over again, but now for an entirely different reason. "Was that... okay?"

The same Seonghwa, with a thought crease between his brows and his glasses slipping down his face once more. This time, you don't hesitate. You bring your arm up to push the bridge up his nose, leaving your hand there to cup the side of his face. Your Seonghwa is all the same.

"Perfect, Hwa," you assure him, beaming back just as brightly. “You were perfect.”

#whimsyworks #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x you #ateez x reader #ateez smut #park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa x you #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #seonghwa imagines

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anisangeldust · 1 day

Text

Blind faith 𝜗𝜚⋆

Summary: it’s not an obsession. It’s a need.

Pairing: young President!coriolanus x maid fem!reader

Warnings: misogyny, stalking, Coriolanus’ fucked up mind, mentions of violence, forced sexualization, masturbation (m), non-con, somiphillia, p in v, normal bipolar behavior from Coriolanus, borderline domestic abuse.

A/N: False God series pt 1! Enjoy!

The aroma of coffee and mildew ridden books danced around the confines of Coriolanus’ office; the large, dark oak desk piled high with important paperwork and other such tedious documents that ate at his soul. Many bad decisions had led him to the thoughts he was having at the moment, ones that made him want to peel his skin off and lay in a pool of his own blood.

He should be happy—he should be, but he wasn’t, and it was his own goddamn fault. Any woman in Panem, his pick of the best, and he chose the one that, in his opinion, was so immeasurably insufferable that she was better off in a grave somewhere. But alas, Livia Cardew was an important person, so she ended up with the rock on her finger. She’d be the one in a months time to wear white and be proclaimed his beloved. At least she wasn’t putrid to gaze upon.

Layered on top was the stress of finding a new maid. The old one died right before Ravenstill stepped down from the position, and Coriolanus was just now getting around to replacing her. In his option, the least Livia could do was her duties as a woman and clean, but he’d never dare to let his tongue slip and ruin this important engagement, not after he’d worked so hard to get back up to the top.

Sometimes he was bewildered at how someone who graduated the same year as him at the academy could be so dim witted, did he truly not see how little she brought to society until she moved in? The thought of someone like her as First Lady of such a great nation made the hairs on the back of Coriolanus’ neck stand up. But he dug his grave, and now he was mere weeks from laying in it.

——

Dinner with Livia was as dull as usual. Coriolanus felt it would take a miracle for her to hold a genuinely intellectual conversation, she’d always tilt her head and giggle like a toddler, or drawl on about some useless capitol gossip; things Coriolanus had no patience for. The sound of his voice was nails on a chalk board, and his patience for her was wearing thin already.

“I’m hiring a new maid, I think it’s best.” He says coldly to whatever useless but of information his fiancée was babbling about. He was hoping perhaps she’d give insight, or best case scenario she’d offer to clean instead, but he should’ve known better.

“Sounds great, I’ve noticed that it’s been a bit dusty around here” Livia giggled, her laughter making it impossible for Coriolanus to want to do anything but hit her over the head with a candlestick.

That night, the feeling of arms shaking around him was what greeted him in bed. “Coriolanus..” a familiar scratching voice cooed into his ear. He knew what she wanted before she said it, and it was the only thing he’d been pushing back hard on. Sex.

“Really Livia? I’m tired” he grumbled and pulled her off of him, her touch lingering like a disease.

“Please? I’ll just blow you then, I just want something Coriolanus! We’re getting married soon and we haven’t done anything!” She was right, he didn’t what to was the thing, but the way a woman was begging to get him off appealed to the human desire in his DNA. He was a man after all, and it was his right to receive pleasure.

“Fine, I’ll let you blow me. But that’s it.” He grunted and sat up, pulling the covered off of his body and grabbing her, roughly forcing her to her knees on the side of the bed. Coriolanus grumbled something incoherent and yanked down his boxers, his dick was barely hard, so he jerked it a few times before grabbing his otherwise useless fiancées jaw and forcing her mouth onto his cock.

“Is that what you wanted yeah? Slut.” He hissed and took a right hold of her hair. He figured he could get used to this, at least she was mediocre at something, and maybe over time he’d start to enjoy it more. He fucked all the frustration he felt with her into her throat, not caring at all about the hot tears streaming down her cheeks, or the gagging sounds she was eliciting as his fat tip bullied the back of her abused throat.

Cumming down Livias throat, he groaned and pulled his cock out of her mouth. Slapping her reddened face with his softening dick. “Swallow it bitch” he commanded and stood up, pulling up his pajama pants and climbing right back into bed, not caring at all what Livias doing as long as she’s quiet, not a single positive thought about her crosses his mind before he’s pulled into the clutches of sleep.

——

Coriolanus had barely skimmed the applications for maid, picking the one he felt was most suitable, young, semi-important family, and good enough looking, that’s all that Coriolanus needed to be honest. Perhaps she could be someone else to take his anger out on, it’s just a woman after all, they’re replaceable.

The young president was looking out of his big windows when a poised knock and slight creek of the door caught his attention, it was his assistant, Basil. “Sir? The maid that you hired is here to meet you per your request.” He politely reminded.

“Thank you Basil. Send her here please.” Coriolanus replied and sat down at his large desk, leaning back and waiting to simply hire whatever young woman he had employed and get in with his day.

The rhythmic clack clack clack of heals down the hall was both intriguing and confusing for Coriolanus, Livia didn’t walk like that, perhaps this maid wasn’t a lost cause, and oh was he correct. You opened the door gently and walked in, the aura you carried was that of a divine presence, you looked so young, so corruptible, and Coriolanus couldn’t help but salivate at the thought of destroying that youthful innocence.

He could tell you had made yourself considerably more presentable for this meeting.. your lips were rosy and your hair was long and shiny. The simple but elegant dress you wore was simply too much, Coriolanus found himself wanting to bend this new aphrodisiac of a stranger over his desk, but he refrained for the sake of professionalism.

“You must be Y/N, nice to meet you. Since I’m employing you, you may call me Coriolanus. I also have a-“ he almost chucked in the word “-Fiancée, her name is Livia. Any questions? I’m a very busy man.” He said as he propped his legs up on his desk to hide his growing boner.

“Not at all, thank you Mr. President” your voice was intoxicating, the sweetest drug, and Coriolanus decided right there that he would stop at nothing to indulge in it. He almost corrected the you as you called him by his title and not his name, but the way you said ‘Mr President’ almost made him cum in his pants. A crude and disgusting idea flashed through his mind.

“Perfect. Well, it’s customary for the maids to wear clothes of a traditional French maid, I expect your measurements by tomorrow so I can have your work uniform made as soon as possible.” He was lying through his teeth, but he needed an excuse to know more about you, and a uniform he could make slutty was the perfect way he could be exposed to the newfound object of his desires more easily.

“I understand President Snow, I’ll have them in by tomorrow” you were shaking visibly, Coriolanus surmised it was due to the kind of job working for the president had to offer, or perhaps he himself is an intimidating presence.

“Wonderful. You’ll start work next Monday. I’ll get you aquatinted with the rest of the staff, and of course with Livia as well” He leaned back and almost scoffed at the name. Who was she to you? She’d never hold a candle to your beauty, to your obedience.

“Wonderful, thank you for your time Mr. President.” You stood up and didn’t even take a step before a deep command left the politicians throat.

“Call me Coriolanus.” It wasn’t a question, a mere suggestion. It was a command, one he expected you to follow.

“Yes of course, sorry sir-Coriolanus!” You were visibly flustered as you left his office, and he didn’t even try to hide that his eyes were glued to your round ass as you walked away.

——

A maid for the president, that was your job now, only to keep the house clean. It was easy right? That reassurance swirled around your head like milk in a bowl, the president was surprisingly kind, and surprisingly hot. But right now your job was to the clean the mansion, and after a brief introduction with his other staff, you went to one of the wings and looked out for where he said your uniform would be.

On a table in a small lounge was a small bouquet of flowers, a bag that looked of a luxury clothing store, and a card addressed to you. Upon opening the box inside the bag, you were greeted with a typical maids outfit yes; but it seemed much sexier than you would’ve thought would be appropriate. But who are you to say ‘no’ to the president?

The card was short, telling you what parts to clean and parts to avoid, where all the cleaning stuff resided, and how to reach Coriolanus if need be. Along with the information was a key to the mansion, and a keycard for anything that may be restricted (and not so subtle warnings annoy what would happen if either privileges were to be abused) With all said and done, you went and changed to start on your work day.

——

“Who are you?” An entitled voice said from behind you, her tone like someone who just witnessed a person puke. You stopped dusting for a moment and turned around, this lady looked at you like something on the bottom of her boot.

“Hello ma’am, I’m Y/N. Coriolanus hired me as a maid, you must be his fiancée Livia, I’m honored to meet you.” Your reply was kind, despite the obvious lack of kindness from this stranger whose house you were cleaning.

“Oh, my bad, I didn’t realize you’d be so.. provocative” she snarled and rolled his eyes at you. Reaching one of her hands out and knocking over a small vase of flowers, the glass cracking and water spilling. “Oops!” She taunted smirked. “Well? Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning?” She jeered and giggled, walking away as you sighed in both defeat at her actions, and relief that she was going already.

——

To say Coriolanus was fuming would be a severe understatement. What was supposed to be a perfect opportunity to spy on his new eye-candy of a maid in her perfectly pornographic outfit was soiled by his entitled brat of a fiancée. Looking at her made him ill, how could she? How dare she? Her actions were only solidifying her spot on his shit list, as to which she was a repeat offender.

The aftermath made it slightly better, the image of you on your hands and knees, sweeping up broken glass, made Coriolanus harder than he had ever been. And he may or not have snapped a few pictures of you bend over various surfaces.

The young president say in his bed much past after he usually would go to sleep, Livia passed out next him. He slowly palmed his boxers to the thought of you and your outfit, imagining that he was pushing you against the table and fucking your tight cunt.

“f—oh fuck..” he sucked in air as he began to tease his tip with his thumb, thinking about how he’d wrap his veiny hand around your throat and use you like a fleshlight, fucking you hard fast with his fat cock. He imagined how it would feel if you were riding him, fat ass in his grip and tits on perfect display he stroked up and down his dick as the image become more real, the want for your little pussy became unbearable. Coriolanus almost came when he imagined not even stepping you of your maid outfit, simply cumming inside and forcing you to clean while his seed pooled in your cunt.

Close to orgasm and pathetically desperate to cum in a warm pussy, Coriolanus ripped the blankets off of his sleeping fiancée. She wouldn’t care, at least he didn’t care if she did, and a clean tear of her panties granted him access to her, surprisingly wet, pussy.

It was easier to imagine it was you, the darkness and ability to shiver her face in a pillow really helped. He eased his fat tip inside her sleeping pussy, and began to sloppily thrust; not caring about anything but finishing.

“Coriolanus..?” A sleepy voice murmured, only to be taken breathless by a slap.

“Shut the fuck up you slutty bitch, let me use your pussy, fuck! And- then you can sleep-!” He grunted through sloppy thrusts and lewd squelches. His large hand went up to her mouth, allowing her no room to talk or complain.

Coriolanus came quickly to the thought of being buried in your pussy. The image of his milky cum dropping girl your puffy lips, coating your clit with his cream. He quickly pulled out of the pliant body of his fiancée and took his hand of her mouth. He rolled over and the strongest wave of clarity hit his system.

How the fuck was he going to survive being around you?

Taglist!

@daenerysqueenofhearts @caramelandvenus @yoursrosie @wearemadeofstardust0 @kay-lla @mrsriddlenott @sleekervae @ianales @qoopeeya

#anisangeldust #angels yapping #tom blyth #coriolanus snow #⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚angel #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow smut #false god series #false god #president snow #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus x y/n #maid!reader

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digital-domain · 2 days

Text

Purpose

Alastor x Reader // word count 3.4k

You can have you soul back, if you wish. But really…why would you even want something like that?

Tags/warnings: yandere, manipulation, power imbalance, angsty as hell, Alastor owns reader’s soul, reference to Alastor destroying other souls, shadows being far too tangible for comfort

A/N: This was supposed to be a short, simple little thing in my notes app. It did not stay that way for long. I swear I’ll write for someone else after this one (this might be a lie, haven’t decided yet)

You can’t believe that you asked. It was a sort of trance that brought you here, that forced your steps down the hallway, that raised your fist to his bedroom door - and it was your entire fist that knocked, not merely the knuckles of your hand. Like you were threatening to break the wood from its hinges if he didn’t answer. But he wasn’t angry when he let you inside. Only bemused. And even now that you’ve done it, now that you’ve somehow managed to get out the words that have been churning in your mind for months…his demeanor has barely shifted at all. Although of course, it could be an act. It’s still hard for you to tell.

“Is that truly what you desire, my dear?” Alastor’s smile, which you expected to fade somewhat, or at least twitch at the corners in a telltale sign of annoyance, is just as broad as it’s ever been. He towers over you, his hands folded behind his back. “Think carefully, now. It’s already rare for me to allow someone to escape - unheard of, in fact. But taking someone back would be even less likely, so if there’s any chance at all ”-

“I’m sure.” You set your jaw, and refuse to look down, even as the glow in his eyes becomes almost too bright to bear. Even as something stirs in the swamp behind him, threatening to draw your gaze away. “I want my soul. I’ll give you anything to have it back. I’ll”-

“No need to elaborate, darling.” He sounds calm, and just as surprising, he doesn’t sound like he’s lying. “I assure you, I have no interest in any offer you might have had planned. If you want your soul, you can have it.”

You freeze, your mouth still ajar. It takes you a moment before you can speak again. “Really?”

“Really.” His head tilts slowly as you continue to process his words. “Does that surprise you?”

“Yes.” You’re deeply confused, in fact. You were expecting to have to haggle, if not to beg. You were certainly expecting him to be upset. It shouldn’t - it can’t - be this easy.

“I give you my word. If you wish to leave, I’ll let you.” He pauses. “However. ”

This is a trick. It has to be. Your eyes dart around the room, as if a map to his true intentions might be lying somewhere nearby.

“It would be irresponsible of me not to help you consider your options. I don’t want you to do anything you might regret. So…tell me.” He sighs, and simply stares for a moment before brushing the tips of two fingers up the line of your jaw, from your ear to just below your mouth. “ If you were to go…” He taps the pads of his fingers gently against your cheek, and lets his hand fall to his side. “What, exactly, would you have to gain from such a thing?”

You blink, still reeling from his feather-light touch. This is not a question you expected to answer, and you stay quiet for a moment too long.

He leans over you, and lowers his face to your ear, as if he’s about to tell you a secret. “I’ll tell you what I think. I don’t think you’ll like it very much…but then again, people never enjoy hearing the truth.” There’s a buzz of static, he disappears and reappears behind you, and you’re left too disoriented to respond. “I think you’d be quite miserable, if you went through with this impulsive little idea of yours.”

It wasn’t impulsive. Saying it out loud was, without a doubt. But the idea itself has been there for a very long time.

“Would you like to know why I think that?”

“No.” You’re not sure, really, whether you’re responding to his words, or to the hand that has landed on your waist. “You’re wrong.” His grip tightens, tugging slightly on the fabric of your shirt, but there it is again - that odd, detached state of mind that you fall into when you need to do something, and quickly, before you think about it and lose your resolve. “I’ll be miserable if I stay. I’ve already been miserable for a long fucking time.” You uncurl the fist you didn’t realize you had clenched, bring your hand to his wrist, and tug it sharply away from your waist. You barely even register your surprise when he lets this happen.

He reappears in front of you, and waits silently for you to continue.

“I didn’t think it would be like this.” Your eyes wander to the desk against the wall, to the ledger that you know contains the list of souls under his command. He’s allowed you to witness what happens to the souls - to the people - that displease him, and on more than one occasion, he’s enlisted your help in cleaning up the mess. You always got the impression that he didn’t particularly need your assistance. That it was more about the fun of watching you squirm. “You’re not who I thought you were.”

“How interesting.” He leans forward, eyes gleaming. “I must be a better judge of character than you, then. Because you have never once surprised me.” Without warning, he takes your hand, tugs you close enough to put his other hand on the small of your back, and half-drags you to his desk chair, which he kicks around and deposits you into.

You glare up at him, hands braced tightly against the armrests, but he only pulls his hands behind his back, and sighs.

“Well, my dear. I would have merely asked you to sit down - as one should do for someone who’s about to receive unfortunate news - but it seems that you’re in a rather oppositional mood. So.” He gestures in your direction, and something slithers over your waist, binding you to the back of his chair.

Before this all began, you would have struggled. Now, you barely glance down. “Fuck you.”

“Shall I bind your tongue as well, darling?” A dark coil, made of the same unnaturally smooth, unfathomably black material as the first, curls up from behind you and begins to inch its way up your neck. “Or perhaps do away with it altogether?”

You press your lips together, and shake your head.

“Hmm…if you’re sure.” The second coil retreats back into the shadows, and Alastor looks down at you with an expression far too appreciative for your comfort. “I do love a captive audience,” he muses. “But what I said before does still stand. If, at the end of this little talk, you still wish to leave, I’ll happily release you.” He gestures broadly with an open palm, as if presenting you with some fabulous gift, then quickly flips his hand and points at you, his finger perfectly still in midair. “But first things first. I asked you a question some time ago, and you would do well to answer it.” He stands perfectly straight, and once again interlocks his hands behind his back. “Take some time to gather your thoughts, if you must. I’m not going anywhere.”

You bite hard into the inside of your lip, and swallow your bloody saliva down with all the things you’d like to scream at him. Instead, you avert your eyes, and quietly repeat the question you’d been unable to answer the first time around. “What do I have to gain?”

“That is what I asked, my dear.” The tendril around your waist tightens slightly, as if to force an answer out of you.

“What do I have to lose? ” You keep your eyes fixed on the floor, and force the deepest breath you can manage in and out of your lungs. The air feels heavy and humid, and smells of long-rotten vegetation - or perhaps a half-destroyed carcass, decaying somewhere in the bayou. “When I did what I did…when I gave you my soul…I didn’t think it would be like this. I thought that if I did it, I’d feel safe enough, or - I don’t know - good enough, to make a life here. But I don’t have one outside of you.” You suck in a sharp breath, all too aware of how stilted your sentences are becoming as they pass over the growing lump in your throat. “I live here because of you. And I barely leave because of you. I don’t spend time with anyone else, because I never know when you’re going to show up, and I don’t want to make friends and then watch them get roped into whatever shit you make me do next - and I can’t sleep, because - because you’ve woken me up before, and when you do that”-

You trail off completely as you remember the last time he did this to you, the images in your head far too clear for something that happened in the dark, when you were only half awake: Hand over your face in your dream, falling to touch your shoulder with just enough force to wake you and send you bolting upright. Rise and shine, darling. Smile somehow more vivid than the red eyes glowing above it, spreading wide with a manic delight that you knew was real, too real, and far too close. I’m going to pay someone a visit. They’re not aware of it yet, but I’m afraid it just couldn’t wait. Shadow, on the wall, one that shouldn’t have existed in such a dark room, blacker than you thought anything could ever be. It’s going to be a night to remember, my dear. I wouldn’t have you miss it for the world.

You don’t want to picture what happened next. In your mind, you skip to when it was all over. When he took your hand, still shaking from the things you’d been forced to witness, and held it tight as he scratched that poor soul’s name out of his ledger. When he set down his pen, which was still dripping a dark red liquid that barely resembled ink at all, and began to turn the pages - you knew what he was looking for long before he found your name, written in impeccable cursive, glowing slightly as he guided you to touch it. I think it looks quite lovely in my hand. Whether he was talking about his handwriting, or about your face, which he’d reached up to touch in that moment, you do not wish to know. Don’t you agree?

Now, you shake your head, as if amending the answer you’d given him that night. You don’t like how you’ve conditioned yourself to say the things he wants to hear. To believe them when you say them. “I knew I’d have to do some things for you. But…” You swallow hard, because you can’t imagine he’ll have any sympathy for you if you cry, and you don’t want to find out. “I didn’t think it would be like this. I didn’t think that it would become my entire purpose.”

“Hmm.” His sigh is light and airy, with none of the weight that your words carried. When he does speak, the condescension is unmistakable. “Tell me, then.” He crouches down in front of you, leans forward, and rests his forearms on your thighs; his elbow digs hard into your leg as he raises his hand and props his face up on his fist. His grin still doesn’t waver, and his eyes appear wider from this angle, shining with something that is, perhaps, meant to resemble sympathy. “If you chose to leave…what would your purpose be then?” He tilts his head, until it’s his cheek resting against his fist, and waits.

And you are silent. Because somehow, in all your fantasies of escaping, you never managed to get to that part. The part where you lived your life, with no one to guide you but yourself.

You don’t know what you would do. But surely, surely, it would be better than this.

He lowers his voice, and finally, you see his smile recede slightly. It becomes softer, and the glow in his eyes fades somewhat, and it’s all so unexpected that you don’t even question whether it’s real. “I know a lost soul when I see one, darling.” With his other hand, he lazily traces a path up and down your thigh. It would be almost soothing, you think, if it wasn’t him. “There’s a reason I wanted you. And a reason I keep you so close.” He sighs, and you can smell his breath, the hint of whiskey that doesn’t come close to masking the familiar rancid scent beneath. But there’s something sweet there, too. That’s new. “I think,” he murmurs, “that you have more to lose now than you ever did before.”

You try to tell yourself that you don’t want him to keep talking. That you want him to disappear now, and for good. But memories of your old life - your old after life, before he took over - are beginning to press their way forward. They make your stomach churn in a different way than any of his cruelty.

“There’s also a reason - the same reason, in a way - that you were so easy to win over.” He opens his hand, and lets his cheek rest against his palm. There’s nothing dangerous about the way he’s looking at you now, or at least, nothing outwardly menacing, and you find yourself thinking about the night he approached you. Before anything about him seemed dangerous at all. When his appearance in your life seemed like a glorious stroke of luck.

“It was only easy because I didn’t know anything.” You’re disoriented, looking down at him, and it takes away whatever resolve you had left; your voice comes out quiet and hollow. “I hadn’t been here long. Everything about this place scared me. And I was alone…” You weren’t with anyone that night, but that’s not what you mean. Your chest seems to tighten as you remember those early days. The paranoia that haunted your every step, convincing you that something awful was about to step out of the shadows at any moment. The panic of not knowing how you fit into the world around you, and being sure that you would never truly know. The pure hopelessness of being consigned, for eternity, to the one place where no one in the world has ever wanted to go, and knowing that you could blame no one but yourself.

Alastor raises his head, slowly, and lets his hand drop gently against your thigh. “Well, my dear.” His palm touches first, and his fingers fall lightly, their touch barely perceptible at all until he presses them down in an almost-reassuring squeeze. “You’re not alone anymore, are you?”

“No." You barely even remembered how it felt, until this moment. To be lost. To have nothing, not even the nightmares of the present, to justify your existence. You didn’t think about it.

You didn’t let yourself think about it. Because thinking about it would mean -

“That’s right. You’ll never be alone again, if you don’t wish to be.”

It’s fake, this comfort. Always has been. But you can’t ignore it, now - the way you want to believe it. If it wasn’t from him, you’d have nothing to comfort you at all. You find your mind wandering to your name in his hand, glowing in his book, and wonder if anyone else will ever think of you enough to write it down.

“As for fear… ” His voice is so soft, now, that you feel the need to quiet your breathing. To inhale slowly, between words, and exhale carefully, lest he pause at a hitch in your breath. “What do you fear most, at this moment?”

Again, you are silent. This time, it’s not because you don’t have an answer. It’s because the one you have seems far too dangerous to say out loud.

If you leave, and things are exactly how they were before…or worse…

“Uncertainty is a terrible thing, isn’t it?” He pauses, and glances to the side for a moment before speaking, his gaze snapping back into place so quickly that you barely catch its shift. “I’ll gladly admit to planting the thought in your head. My having done so doesn’t make the idea any less real.”

The tendril binding you to your chair disappears. It takes you a moment to notice the absence of pressure on your abdomen. Even then, you do not move. You keep yourself in place, sitting perfectly straight, because you don’t know what will happen if you don’t.

You stay exactly where you are, even as he rises to his feet and turns to the side, leaving you a clear path to the door. You watch, motionless, as an arm made of shadow extends along the wall and wraps its long, distorted fingers over the doorknob.

“Walk away from me now, if you wish. You have my word that your soul will depart along with the rest of you.” The door creaks open, in time with the parting of his teeth, and the appearance of his staff in his hand. Its head pulses with a faint green light. You stare into it, and wonder if it’s your soul that you see flickering in its midst.

“And if I don’t?” Out of the corner of your eye, you see the gap between the door and its frame narrow slightly. And again, slightly more.

“To be entirely honest… I can’t imagine that I’ll ever feel inclined to give you another chance.” The light on his staff grows larger and brighter, and shifts towards you, as if daring you to pull it out. “On the other hand…” He leans forward, and tilts his head, his spine contorting with the sideways motion until his mouth is directly beside your ear. “If you do leave, that door will close behind you. And it will never open for you again.”

The green light ebbs, just a bit, and you think about the first time you saw it. That night was cold, and damp, the kind of weather that eats away at you slowly, sinking its way under your clothes and skin bit by bit, until you can’t even remember a time when you were warm. The kind of weather that seems to suck the color out from around you, leaving you stranded in a world of gray and black and muddy, desolate brown. The place inside you where you imagine your soul once resided felt heavy, just as waterlogged as every other bit of you.

And it seemed to lighten the moment you shook his hand. The moment you traded…

It was more than your soul, you think. It was the things you feared. The things you despised in the world, and yourself. They’re all gone, now, because now, there is only one face that makes you feel these things. It’s better like this, you think.

It’s soon to be out of your hands, either way.

The door eases shut, and you close your eyes, because you do not want to see the green light fade. It’s better not to see. Better to pretend that it was never there at all.

“Well done, my dear.” The filter has dropped from his voice. It was there, distorting his every word, until now. But why say anything about that? You keep your eyes closed, and sit still as he traces the back of his hand down the side of your face. Thinking about flinching away, but doing nothing at all.

“Stay for as long as you’d like.” He sounds different, still. Not sincere, perhaps, but closer to it than he was before. “You’ve gone through quite a lot tonight. I expect it will take you some time to feel like yourself again.” He takes a step back, but remains close, and you don’t have to look to know how intently he’s watching.

There is not much left to watch. You slide your hands down from the armrest, and clasp them together, eyes still shut tight. Head down. If you stayed in this room until you felt like yourself, you think, you’d never leave.

Then again - if you wanted to feel like yourself, you would already have left.

#alastor x reader #yandere alastor x reader #tw manipulation #tw power imbalance

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gabessquishytum · 2 days

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So glad to see you’re back! Hope your break was restful because it was certainly well deserved! Hope you continue to take time for yourself and prioritize yourself ❤️

I know Ameliot owns centaurs now but I had an idea I have to share lol.

One of the key parts of centaur mythology is that they kidnap human women to be wives. So centaur dream has never liked this process—it activates his social anxiety for one—but it’s what centaurs do.

And his family is on his case and this breeding season is going particularly rough on him. He really really needs a mate…

So when the herd ambushes a human town, dream, due to real need and lots of peer pressure, knows he can’t come back empty handed. Desire would never let him hear the end of it.

Problem is he hasn’t ever done this before so he isn’t entirely sure how to like…spot a human and sweep them up into his back.

So he just goes for it almost without looking, hooking his arms around the nearest nice smelling person and launching them over his shoulder and taking off, his grip firm around their waist.

It isn’t until they’re back and the herd is now entering stage two (seduction and courting the women) that dream takes a good look at his human and realizes…he grabbed a very confused man.

Hob was minding his own business when the centaurs came. Honestly people in town know when the centaurs are coming and so the only women around are very down for the process and are waiting around eagerly. The others who aren’t into it are already inside. Hob didn’t know about the tradition, being a visitor and no one bothered to warn him—he’s a man. So when the chaos starts, he was Not Prepared for a beautiful centaur to thunder up and grab him! The centaur is clearly also confused so it was clearly a mistake on his part but he still stiffly demands that hob will be his wife for the season…

Dream is going to die of embarrassment when desire finds out he grabbed a man on accident. But now he’s got to pretend this was all on purpose.

It isn’t all bad. The man is…very handsome and he smells perfect to dream. And he can’t let him go now, Dream really needs the help during the mating season, even if it won’t result in a pregnancy.

Dream will just have to seduce hob into wanting to stay.

(Stubborn as hob is, it might not be too hard. It just so happens that hob is a size queen)

Omg socially anxious idiot centaur Dream!!!! I love him so much already. I'm obsessed with the idea of Dream looking down at his "bride", and Hob looks back up at him... with his beard... and his flat (ish) chest... and his, ya know, penis. And Dream just wants to sink into the floor in his embarrassment.

But Hob? He's gonna make the best of the situation. He's gonna put on the pretty bridal gown with the rest of the chosen brides (no it doesn't fit him very well but he's still hot af). And he's gonna take Dream’s hand in the glade where the centaurs are dancing. He's not the greatest dancer but he is having a great time! Dream stumbles over his hooves as he realises that the smiling handsome man might actually be the most beautiful person he's ever seen.

The good thing about mating season, is that things like anxiety and awkwardness all fall by the wayside. All Dream feels is admiration for his new mate, and a strong desire to spend the season in the throes of delirious passion. And he discovers that despite being a man, Hob is really the perfect companion. He's horny. Really horny. Maybe even hornier than Dream, which is really saying something.

And it totally doesn't matter that they can't have kids, because they can still very much fantasise and talk dirty about it - which they do. A lot. Dream isn't even remotely shy when he talks about filling Hob up with many strong and magnificent foals. Hob is kind of obsessed with the way Dream will approach him from behind and mount him with absolutely no warning (thank goodness Hob keeps himself well oiled!) and start whispering filth in his ear about what a good little wife Hob is, how he was absolutely made for it and even the gods won't be able to take him from Dream.

Hob may be a traveller at heart but he'll find it hard to leave when the mating season ends. How will he ever satisfy himself without Dream’s massive cock? Maybe he'll stay another year. It may be impossible for them to have a child biologically, but that doesn't mean they shouldn't keep trying!

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw monsterfucking #cw forced marriage #but only a little #cw breeding

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girlfromflor · 3 days

Text

atsumu and his infatuation with stoic!reader

wc: 1371 | tw: some swear words ig | a/n: i did not proofread this lol

atsumu was never one to think too hard about other people’s actions. he always thought that when someone said something, they meant it. when they didn’t say anything, well that’s just because there is nothing to be said. he was just as simple, so why worry, right? but that was before he met you.

he still remembers the very first time he saw you come over practice. you seemed so lost, trying to speak to the coach and see if there was any chance you could be part of the club, only to have your voice completely drown in the loud sound of the balls hitting the court’s floor. atsumu was stunned, he had never seen you around and yet it felt like you were known, like that one person he can always count on. you were so gorgeous, your hair matching your pretty face and soft eyes. he almost immediately asked you to marry him. his eyes worked unceasingly to memorize every part of you. how you were a bit shorter than him, how the school uniform wrapped every part of your body oh so nicely, and he wondered how you would look rid of all those layers. so he gathered all his courage and after a deep breath he approached you, “uh, hi. i’m miya atsumu, do you need help?”

you, with your ever so practical and stoic persona, had the immediate reaction to just say no. usually not one to chit chat or kill time doing something so trivial as talking about ordinary and banal things. but as you turned to answer the atsumu guy, you freezed. probably it was the first time you ever stood in a situation like this, but god, he was so absolutely gorgeous to you that your whole demeanor changed. you were a loss of words. flustered with your own traitor thoughts and, as you realized you were taking too much time to answer a simple question, your mind went blank for a minute. “sorry, what…?”

he laughed. and god, what a cute laugh he had. he wondered if you were always this distracted. “do you need help? with whatever it is that you’re doing…” and gave you a smile, trying his hardest to not add a random ‘love’ into the phrase. to his surprise you didn’t smile back, face expressionless as you said, “oh, right. yeah, i think i could use some help. i need to subscribe to some club activities and i thought maybe i could be part of the volleyball team… do you think that can happen?” after having a few seconds to recompose yourself you managed to mutter, thanking whatever wave of luck that allowed you not to stumble over your words.

and after that, atsumu knew he was in for a long journey. being head over heels for someone that he later learned to be a first-year, that he now would most likely see everyday and that – much to his dismay – did not utter a single word towards him, unless absolutely necessary. he did not understand any of it. why he felt so breathless around you and why you seemed so oblivious to his advances. he didn’t know how to deal with all of it, he just wanted to know you completely, to have access to your deepest desires and wills and have you share all parts of you and your life.

but you never really seemed to realize how intensely he cared for you. and nowadays all he can do is to be deeply attentive to everything you do. whenever you say something – or when you don’t, for that matter – he’ll find a way to read your words and actions over and over again. he’s obsessed with it. he can’t imagine why in the world you are so little affected by the things he says and does. how could you not have any sort of reaction when he was around you doing all types of things to get your attention. it wasn’t until a random practice day that he realized just how much you actually noticed him.

he couldn’t help but reminisce that afternoon, it was very meaningful to him. after a few months of coexisting, he managed to remain well behaved with you. only exchanging a few words of politeness whenever you to met. he had just thrown another bad set to one of his teammates, growing frustrated and bothered by the minute. you don’t notice at first what’s wrong. nevertheless, you are the very first to really understand the problem. while all of the boys swim in confusion as to why atsumu seemed so lost in his thoughts during practice, you decide it’s time for him to focus already.

“atsumu” you call, waiting for him to look at you. he lifts his eyes slowly, so caught up in his frustration to notice the soft glint of affection in yours. “yes…?” he answers at last, still not paying you full attention.

“i know you’re stressed over exams…” and that’s enough to have him looking at you with attentive eyes, wondering how did you know that since you’re not usually aware of those things, always having the best grades of your class. “but it will be okay. you studied harder than ever, if that’s not enough then i don’t know what would be…”

he lets out an amused chuckle, thinking that you’re just trying to be practical and make him not waste a whole practice just because he’s worried. but then it clicks, he never mentioned exams. during the whole time he spent studying, he did not mention it once. he was pressured enough, he didn’t want anyone else to add up to his stress. he questions then, why would you assume that, of all things?

little does he know that you noticed how he was getting a few minutes later than the others at practice, because he was finishing a summary of his exams topics. how he would look at the paper in his pocket from time to time to check if he had gotten the right answers to the questions he was mentally doing over and over. how he stopped staying after hours so he could get home sooner, probably to go over his notes about that one topic he never really manages to understand just right.

so he tilts his head a bit to the side, still looking at you with some amusement in his eyes and says, “is not only that, you know… i have to study so much to get good grades and can’t even set right while doing so, it makes me wonder if i won’t ever be able to do two things at the same time…”

and for that you just giggle. a light, sweet sound that just makes atsumu drown even more in his infatuation for you. you raise your eyebrows, hardly believing these words had really left his mouth. “atsumu…” is soft, trying to not sound aggressive, but all the boys that are paying attention can see that you’re actually dead serious when you say, matter-of-factly “you’re recognized as the number one high school setter… what are you so concerned about?”

and that just hits him like a fucking punch, because you are not saying it to encourage him nor is it to make him feel better. you stating a fact, he is indeed one of the best players in high school, he should be able to study hard and still play well, it comes naturally to him anyway. his eyes fill up with something you can’t quite point out, his smirk spoke volumes though “well, i guess it just gets hard to remember that sometimes”

after that short dialogue you two shared, he managed to not miss one move throughout the rest of their practice. his humor all but recovered as he wonders just how much you watch him around and that, maybe, you think of him just as much as he thinks of you. but nothing could have prepared him for the next day, when he was changing at the locker room and found a note that said “so you don’t have a hard time remembering it” with a simple black bracelet underneath that had “best setter” engraved on it.

#haikyuu!!#miya atsumu #atsumu fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu fic #this is really self indulgent #i am so sorry

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nagito-kissmaeda · 2 days

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Cute Movie night with komaeda,,,,? :3

ミ☆ This probably isnt 100% what you wanted but the idea came to me in a rush and i couldn't stop writing. I could be convinced to do a second part later lol maybe.

ミ☆ It's also just a little one, i hope that's okay! Word count: 1088 Contains: the cringest reader in the world, violence and blood ment (they're watching a horror movie) ミ☆ Please send me a DM or an ask if you’d like me to write something for you!

You probably should have been more clear with your intentions, you realize, as you sit uncomfortably in your theater seat. Clear is not a word that you would use to describe your usual methods, more circuitous, confusing and awkward. It has not worked in your favor.

The movie is alright, you haven't really been watching all that much of it. Every few minutes your eyes dart to the side to peer at Komaeda where he sits in the seat beside you, desperately trying to gauge if he is having a good time or not. You should have told him it was a date, you really should have just told him.

Falling back on usual anxious and unhelpful habits, you had tried to seem cool, to seem aloof, like you really didn't care whether he said yes or no. You’d made up some lie about having a spare ticket, and not having anyone else to go with you, laughing a lot more than you really should have and (in retrospect, the most embarrassing part of the whole thing) trying to lean against the wall in a way that looked effortless, and devil may care. Komaeda had thought you were slumped over in exhaustion, so it hadn't worked one bit.

There's a loud noise from the movie and you jump in your seat. You don’t actually like slasher movies, but you thought it might be a good excuse to hold Komaeda’s hand or something. He looks over at you with a polite expression (no emotion really, just polite) to check if you are okay. You give him two thumbs up without thinking and immediately want to die.

He has his hands tucked politely in his lap, not even doing you the service of using your shared armrest so you can do the classic slow pinkie intertwine move that you usually rely on in these situations. Your hands are clasped in your own lap, much less politely, aggressively, more like, and god are they sweaty.

Komaeda thinks you only invited him because he was your last option, and it’s all your fault. You should have just told him you like him, that you really like him. It’s stupid, how much you worried about putting on airs when proposing this little excursion, Komaeda doesn’t care about that sort of thing, that’s why you like him so much!

Someone on screen gets cut in half with a chainsaw and blood sprays everywhere, you avert your eyes, and notice that Komaeda looks very pretty in the blood red lighting. Weird thought to have, so weird. You avert your eyes in the other direction instead. Luckily the cinema is mostly empty, it’s mid-afternoon on a weekday so you don’t need to worry about accidentally making eye contact with a stranger. There are some very yucky sounds coming from the movie now, so you just keep not looking.

“Are you alright?”

You turn to face Komaeda again, shielding your eyes from the screen with a hand. His expression is not just polite now, it’s concerned.

“Uh, yeah. I’m okay.”

He doesn’t believe you, you can tell, “We can go if you aren’t enjoying yourself.”

“No-No it’s okay, I am having a stellar time.” You say, your voice is squeaker than you’d intended, and oh god you realize that probably sounded sarcastic, “I mean it, i’m serious, being here with you right now is so cool and good-”

You overhear what sounds like a person being torn asunder and feel instantly sick to your stomach. Komaeda’s eyes dart up to the screen for a moment, and his eyebrows jump up in shock, “Don’t look up, okay?”

“H-Huh?” You ask, terrible instinct making you instantly start to look in the direction he just told you not to.

Komaeda grabs your face in both his hands, they’re cold and a little sweaty. It has the desired effect, you are shocked into absolute stillness, whatever is happening in the movie is the last thing on your mind right now.

He laughs a little, nervously, like he’s worried about offending you, “I know it’s out of line for me to ask this, aha, but ah…why did you buy tickets for a movie that you can’t even watch?”

It takes you second to even realize that he’s asked you a question, his face is awash in red light, his eyes wide and beautiful. You can see his pale eyelashes, and a few sparse freckles on the bridge of his nose, so faint that you’ve never noticed them before, you realize you’ve been staring too long, “Oh uh, sorry I- um, I guess I wanted you to think I was like…” the next word comes out so weakly that you once again wish to die on the spot, “hardcore?”

Komaeda laughs again, warmly this time, “Ah, I don’t know why you even care what I think of you, but i certainly wouldn't think any less of you for not being hardcore”

“Should we go, then?” You say quietly, worrying your lower lip for a moment before muttering, “We could watch a better movie at my place?”

“A-Ah…” Komaeda starts, it’s pretty dark in the theater now that the slaughter has stopped for a moment, but you swear there's color to his cheeks, “Well, I’m sure you don’t need me for that, I know that I’m only here because you accidentally bought a second ticket and everyone else was busy.”

“Komaeda-kun, I’m asking you on a date.” You say quickly before you have a chance to change your mind, “This was supposed to be a date, but I was too scared to ask you properly, so I lied about the ticket thing, I bought two on purpose.”

“Oh.” He replies, slowly removing his hands from your cheeks and chewing thoughtfully on his thumbnail.

“Yeah, oh.” You say, staring down at your hands.

Komaeda laughs breathlessly, “That changes things, then, doesn’t it?” He hums to himself for a moment and then says, “Well, if you’re certain you’d like to spend time with me…I’d be glad to.”

You look up at him, a wide grin tugging at your mouth. Unfortunately though, the movie is showing a scene where one of the main characters gets all his intestines pulled out. Komaeda is quick, though, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and tugging your face into his chest before you can get a proper look. He laughs, “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

Date number two is going to be much better, you can already tell.

#nagito komaeda #komaeda x reader #nagito x reader #danganronpa x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #/request

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mosaickiwi · 3 days

Text

Fall Unto Me (part four)

Part one, part two, part three

The end of Angel!Angel and Demon!Ren yayyyy I'm sooo excited to have the rest of my brain back!!! IT'S FINALLY OVER (mostly).

A very long and nonsensical string of writing thoughts and notes on it will be posted much later. Also if anyone wants to ask questions I can answer them in the infodump or on discord if you want a more immediate response... I hope you enjoy da finale 👉👈 sorry this is my baby i really love talking about it but it was impossible til now fjdslkjflks

cw// religious themes

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

That mundane, quiet night had taken a turn for the better. You could barely move a muscle after trying to settle your curious desires for your devilish companion, though they still remained. The books and red string were put back where they belonged before you found yourself cradled in strong arms and curled under silken sheets.

Ren had brought you to rest in bed, arms keeping you securely nestled at their side. His bare chest felt incredibly warm against your cheek. The sound of their heart beat steadily, and you moved your head to hear it better. Mesmerizing, and comforting.

“I'm… tired? Fatigued?” you muttered aloud. It was so hard to stay awake, your eyes kept fluttering. You’d never been quite so drained before.

He gently held your chin to look at you, smiling all the while. “Why do you think? You’re an absolutely ravenous angel. Were it not for that fatigue, you’d surely still have me pinned on the floor with your head thrown back in—”

“Hey!” you interrupted him. The casual way they said it had you suddenly embarrassed. Being aware of your newfound… ‘ravenous’ side was something else entirely.

“It was a wonderful sight, my love, little angel,” he sang your praises with adoration, ending at a word. That word. The one you didn’t know.

An odd little pet name you were all the more curious about.

“What's that word you keep saying?” you asked and his eyes suddenly widened. “I love all the endearing things you call me, but that one—I can't place it.”

“...Oh, love,” he whispered, muffled as they leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of your head. “I’m so sorry. I won't use it anymore.”

“Huh? Is it something bad?” You weren't sure what he meant by that, but you knew well and good they'd never say something cruel to you, let alone call you by a cruel word. Nonsensical as the question was, no other reason came to mind.

“Not at all. It's my favorite word,” his voice was soft, almost heartbroken. “I didn't think you'd forget it so soon… I'll tell you when you're ready, I promise. For now, you only need to rest.”

A simple nod in response on your part. You accepted the answer so easily. There was nothing to worry about anymore. With how exhausted you were from the act, sleep was a natural decision. You could talk in the morning. Or any morning after, you no longer minded. Eventually you'd leave, so what was another few days or weeks?

You settled in and closed your eyes, lulled to sleep by their heartbeat in your ear.

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

Cold. You woke up cold. Jolted awake from your own nightmare of falling, drowning in the endless clouds that you once walked upon with ease, only to land in the depths of the freezing ocean below you. With a hushed gasp, you sat up in bed.

The devil was asleep right beside you. Pink hair stained with eerie grays from the moon’s glow through the open window, horns so dark they almost blended into the shadows, ghastly inked patterns that crawled from their shoulders down to their hands.

One of his was laced tightly with yours.

You trembled as you slowly pried his fingers away, crawled backwards on the bed until you felt nothing under you and almost fell like that cursed dream.

But the same hands you struggled to get away from caught you. You found instant comfort in his touch, despite the disgust that climbed up your back when you woke—where did it come from? Why were you even trying to get away?

“I've got you, it's alright,” Ren murmured softly. He guided you to stand, wrapping a wrinkled shirt over your naked shoulders along with his arms. You held on as tight as you could. Your fingers were shaking.

“I need to—I need to go, Ren. Now,” you gasped into his chest. Your entire body was unsteady, vision blurred from tears you weren't capable of shedding. Whatever you were saying didn't make sense in your head. You needed to go… somewhere. You could picture the place—it had sunkissed clouds as far as the eye could see—but did it have a name?

He read your mind, gently offered the word you couldn't think of, “Heaven?”

There. Home. You nodded.

“You'll only get hurt.”

“I already know I'll have to repent before my god,” you muttered sheepishly and pulled away, clutching the shirt like a cloak. His knowledge was vast as ever, but what did a demon know of heaven’s affairs?

“No, little angel. If you even make it that far,” they cursed the realms under their breath and followed as you left the room in a sudden hurry. “They'll take whatever is left of your halo and wings.”

You didn't waste any time throwing open the cabin’s door and walking out into the cool night air. Forced to pause at the sight in front of you, you stared; the breathtaking field of flowers was fully blooming. They were finally as high as Ren promised, the tallest with their golden petals proudly on display in the hallowed shape of a halo.

The beauty only helped his words to sink in. Whatever is left of your halo and wings? You turned around, fully expecting him to be right behind you.

You were face to face as you questioned him, a bite of anger held in. “What do you mean?”

Blue eyes that only seemed paler in the night, once full of hatred for heaven, pooled with long lost grief. “You've fallen from their grace,” he said quietly.

“That doesn't happen.” You denied it quickly. Such a thing had never happened in all the histories of heaven, you at least knew that without ever reading those records. If what he said was true, it’d be common knowledge. A warning that all angels would heed.

“It does, because I—”

A bell rang in the darkened night sky above. Ren froze with unknown fear for a split second and hurriedly reached towards you, shouting something. Another bell obscured their voice, then another and another until the number grew to so many your thoughts drowned in their thunder. Someone was calling you home.

Before you even realized it your wings sprouted forth and threw the unbuttoned shirt he'd given you to the wind, bringing a burning anguish so suddenly intense to bloom in the middle of your back that you fell to your knees. Ren immediately kneeled in front of you. The pain and desperation in his voice pulled at your very core, except you couldn't understand a thing. The bells were so loud. You cried out sharply. It may as well have been silence from what little else you could hear.

A cracking noise managed to cut through the clamor of the bells above. Translucent shards of stained glass dropped from your head and piled themselves in the dirt at your knees. There was so little of it but you recognized the golden shade, illuminated by the fire licking at your shoulders.

The halo that you'd gained once the library's doors had beckoned you. The few pieces that remained of it, anyway.

Your heart stopped, then started anew. A feeling worse than the holy fire that was turning your beloved wings from feathered grace to ash. He was right; you'd fallen long before this night.

A thousand bells began to still, one by one. You could start to hear Ren again, though only a few words were clear.

“...At night… Forgive… Happen… …Never wanted this for you.”

The last feather fell away into nothing, and the burning in your back, along with the bells, died with it. All the heat you could feel was the demon only inches away, his desolate gaze fixed to you.

You blinked, tear stained cheeks now icy from the salted wind blowing across the ocean. Bits and pieces came back as memories.

The simple, towering clouds that decorated the heavens far as the eye could see. A sun that shined brightly, an everlasting sunrise that greeted you no matter the day. The library that once seemed like paradise you were destined to guard for the rest of time. All echoes of the being that was no longer you.

Something was missing.

“My… that word,” you whispered. He'd told you it was his favorite word. One that you’d forgotten. “... It was mine?”

He smiled as best he could. It didn't reach his eyes. “You remember it.”

“A little.”

“Then... let me say it for you?” he asked and you nodded. They leaned close, the word slowly leaving their lips with reverence, sadness, unwavering love.

Nothing about it sparked as familiar on the surface. But the word once belonged to you, that empty part inside understood it. Fresh tears welled in the corners of your vision. “When did they take it from me?”

Ren gently wiped your cheek as the tears overflowed again. “I don't know.”

“How—it was mine,” you repeated with a sob. You felt the cold seeping through you and huddled into his embrace. Their body felt more warm and inviting than anything around you. There was nothing—no one else you could ever reach out to anymore.

“I’m sorry. We only have eternity together, my love,” he breathed, tucking your head below his chin with a strangled noise. “I'll say it each and every day so you'll never forget it. I don't want to lose your name, either.”

#14 days with you #14dwy redacted #14dwy ren #cw religious themes #momo writing #posted a little early #i'm impatient #and i want to release myself from this prison /silly #AM I REALLY EVER FREE THOUGH?#my fingers are enjoying their break except i'm losing my shit trying to NOT write redacted stuff #that's totally normal right #if you've seen my brain leaking out in the discord for the past few weeks MY BAD!!!#<- it will keep happening

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theonceandfuturequeenoftarts · 24 hours

Text

Sometimes when Harry looks at Tom, he's reminded of a lesson one of his muggle teachers gave on reptiles. Chameleons that can change their skin colour to blend into their surroundings or anoles that shed their tails to distract a predator and escape – adapting in order to survive, no matter what it takes.

Harry is himself, to a fault. He spent so long beaten down and trying to disappear so he wouldn’t draw his relatives’ ire that he now refuses to hide or apologise for who he is and what he wants. It probably helps that his wants are pretty basic – good food, good friends, a warm, comfortable place to live, someone to love him – and that he inherited the money and name to easily achieve them.

Tom, on the other hand, is so used to being smoke and mirrors and disguising what he wants and what he is in order to pretend to be what others want or need.

He’d been unapologetically (and tyrannically) himself in his childhood, his magic giving him the power to exert his will over others. But Tom is brilliant and a quick learner, and his first interaction with Dumbledore, which he’d described late one night to Harry when the shadows hid both their faces, had proven a subtler touch might be needed.

Now, Tom reflects other peoples’ desires back at them in order to draw them in, and deflects the conversation away from himself so he never has to clearly define his own position. He doesn’t change himself, but everyone seems to believe Tom is on their side – that they’re on the same page. And because of his power and charm and good looks, everyone wants Tom on their side.

Harry has seen this happen many, many times, and he’s still in awe of how Tom affably manipulates those around him into doing what he wants. How Tom determines what someone wants, says just enough to convince them he does too without committing to anything, and twists that connection into a shape that best suits him.

In fact, the only reason Harry believes Tom actually likes him is because Tom never pretends to be what he thinks Harry wants him to be. Tom is petty and says cruel things and lets Harry see him when he’s less than perfectly put together. And Harry treasures each of Tom’s sharp edges, because he’s the only one who gets to see him as he is. He hoards each truth and preference that Tom chooses to share with him like a squirrel preparing for a long, hard winter.

The trouble comes when people talk to Harry about Tom. By virtue of association, Harry’s had to learn to deflect and prevaricate and lie, though he’s still not very good at it. He does a lot of nodding and smiling and making thoughtful “hmm” sounds as people ask him what Tom thinks of this or that. It’s easier than keeping Tom’s machinations straight in his head.

There are moments when Harry isn’t sure Tom even knows who he is at his core. He is so meticulous about his public persona that Harry doubts anyone else knows which foods Tom actually likes (given the chance, Tom would eat ice cream every day), or what he actually thinks about quidditch (he finds it unbearably dull), or what he thinks of muggles (he’ll never be fond of them due to his treatment as a child, but he doesn’t particularly care beyond that) or muggleborns (new blood is necessary for the magical world to continue, but the mages with the deepest pockets are the most bigoted and ‘traditional’) or purebloods (gullible).

And after the tenth meal of eating foods he doesn’t like, or the fifth quidditch match or ministry event or pureblood soirée in a week, or the nth political tapdance before the Wizengamot, pretending to represent everyone’s interests at once without alienating anyone – and quietly getting his own agenda voted through – Harry has to wonder how Tom stays sane. How it all seems worth it. It certainly doesn’t to Harry.

But that’s Tom. Ambitious to a fault, and willing to sacrifice almost anything in order to achieve his goals.

And whatever other people might think, Harry’s not naive. He knows there’s a chance Tom is lying to him, too. He knows it’s possible – even likely – that Tom figured out that the best way to get Harry on his side would be to give him the best illusion of the truth. Show him some darkness and Harry will believe he’s getting honesty. He’s made his peace with this and decided he’d rather give Tom the benefit of the doubt and be a fool than abandon the other man when he’d chosen to be vulnerable with Harry.

So, when Harry brings home Indian takeaway and offers Tom a bite of his rogan josh, only for Tom to casually say, “I don’t really like lamb,” Harry is fascinated and utterly thrilled.

Especially since he’d seen Tom eat lamb chops at a dinner party two weeks ago with nary a moment of hesitation or complaint.

Harry makes sure to leave plenty of the chicken tikka masala for Tom and mentally notes this new preference down. He’s collected a new fact about Tom.

He spends the rest of the meal with a silly little grin on his face.

#harry potter #tom riddle #tomarry #same timeline au #established relationship #introspective #character study (kind of)#fluff #tom's favourite ice cream flavour is rum raisin #harry judges him for it being an old person flavour #harry has no room to judge because his favourite is vanilla #because the first ice cream he ever tried was vanilla and it was the best thing he'd ever tasted

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ddollfface · 1 day

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𝐀 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲

𝙆𝙞𝙮𝙤𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙞 𝙆𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙪 𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨 (𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 1.)

Warnings; reader is a girl, yandere behaviors, misogyny, groping, letters/stalking, Kiyosumi is just an asshole, obsessive thoughts/idealizations, ngl this is a little rushed, bad writing, and me rambling some more :) If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡ Heyy, this is part two for the Kiyosumi headcanons. I'm still so confused as to why there's a word limit on Tumblr, nor do I know how I'm exceeding it?? Like I swear I've seen other authors go far pass what I'm writing (?). I don't know man... but we live on anyways :/

The second type of reader I can see Kiyosumi with is a spit-fire darling, someone who doesn't take any shit, and will call you out on it. She may or may not have some anger issues, willing to scream in your face if she thinks you've disrespected her (or someone she's close to). I like to think of this darling as an enemies-to-lovers troupe, and this darling is likely a fighter of some sort, bonus points if she practices karate.

Now, Kiyosumi originally hates you, absolutely wanting nothing than to tear you into pieces, pound his fist into your face.

Everything about you pisses him off, down to your stupidly soft hair, your firey eyes, your smooth skin, and god dammit, your muscles look abnormally nice today-

Okay, he may have a thing for you, but what can he say? You're a girl in the martial arts world, something that's not common whatsoever. And you're mildly attractive, just a pretty thing to look at, that's what he thinks anyway.

Kiyosumi will try to degrade you, saying that you're just a trophy wife, some inclusion hire, or some crap, anything to push off his feeling for you. He hates that he finds you attractive, strong, and all the things. He's jealous. He wants to be you, you, you.

Why do you get all the recognition? What does Doppo fawn over you, congratulating you on your success, teaching you new things? Why didn't he get that same treatment? It just isn't fair, he's just as good as you, no, he's better, stronger even.

Kiyosumi is no doubt a misogynist, someone who doesn't respect women on the level he should. He doesn't believe that women should be in the martial arts world, something about how they're far too weak, not capable enough to survive in that type of environment (if you're wondering, I think majority of the fighters have this type of sentiment, some more than others).

So imagine his surprise when he sees you waltzing into the arena/dojo, or whatever fighting environment the two of you are in. At first, he laughs, not beliving his eyes, then he's taken aback, eyes blown wide when you take down your opponet with ease. Now his ears are bright red, completely embarrassed that you clearly surpass him strength-wise.

I'm not too sure if you know this quote, but I first heard of it from this Holocaust survivor named Elie Wiesel, and he stated, "The opposite of love is not hate, but indifference..." I believe that to be immensely true, especially in this situation with a yandere Kiyosumi!

His hatred quickly turns into this selfish want, into a need to prove himself to you and keep you for himself. Though his thoughts were already twisted; how can they not? Especially when all he could think was how much better you'd look with your face crushed in, his hands bloody, and your legs contorted in all which ways (not like that). Nothing better than to see that kind smile wiped from your face, replaced with tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes. Yeah... he likes that far better.

But what is he supposed to think when those dark desires become... warped. Now, when he thinks of you, he thinks of how pretty you'd look covered in... him, not blood, but something different. He begins to think you're pretty, not just covered in blood, with teary eyes, but in a sundress with your hair up. Not only that, but he stops cringing whenever you smile, instead, he thinks that the way your eyes crinkle is pleasing to the mind, or how your hair frames your face nicely. Your fighting style isn't stupid anymore. Now it's fuckin' awesome! And how dare those other men even glance at you while you look so badass? Who do they think they are? Do they think they even have a chance with a babe like you? Hell no, that's for him, him, him.

Oh boy, and when you meet Katsumi? Sheesh, that's when things go downhill. Kiyosumi is now paranoid, obsessing over you, you, you. Everything you do is monitored by Kiyosumi, whether you know so or not, wanting to know what you're doing at every waking moment. Kiyosumi has strayed from his original intentions. His feelings for you become warped as he slowly drifts further and further away from reality.

If you really think about it, Kiyosumi is like Katsumi but far grosser. Actually, I take that back. As yanderes, Kiyosumi and Katsumi are on the same level, but Katsumi hides behind this boy-next-door mask, allowing himself to get away with far more. Kiyosumi doesn't have that privilege, so he turns to... unorthodox methods of courting you.

Now you have these creepy ass fotos of you appearing at your work, doorstep, hell, even your purse! They're everywhere, and all you know is that it's from "K...", as your stalker titles it. (Kiyosumi is drunk out of his mind when he sends you these little letters, meaning his penmanship isn't the best... half the time he can't even write his whole name, leading to the K to be pronounced, but the rest of the letters to turn into scribbles lol)

Not only that, but now you feel like you're being watched, like there's a pair of eyes always on you, especially when you're taking a shower... creepy. It's as if there's some kind of shadow always looming over you, causing others to steer clear of you, not wanting to have to do anything with your stalker. It's as if he's right next to you.

And you have a hinting suspicion that it's Katou, seeing as he can't keep a straight face with you, baring his heart on his sleeve. Besides, you can't help but feel unwary whenever he's around.

He stands far too close to you, taking every chance to spare with you, touch you, smell you. Yeah... let's just say you've beaten his ass once or twice. The guy just won't take a hint! Now, it's beginning to piss you off, and you're just about ready to give him a piece of your mind!

Like who does this guy think he is? Touching you as if he has the right? Letting his hands wander down your thighs when you're just supposed to be having a friendly match, does he think you're going to let that slide? Yeah right! His advances just make you punch harder, and him fall deeper.

It's an endless cycle that's coming to a climax rapidly. This onesided romance is just brewing tension between the two of you, one is romantic, and definitely sexual, while the other one is spewing vile hatred.

Kiyosumi doesn't even take a hint when you scream in his face, telling him to fuck off. All he does is adjust his pants and grin, loving how heated you're getting, which just encourages your anger more.

He wants you to keep running your mouth. Yeah, get mad at him, yell at him, tell him how much you hate him. God, it really gets him hard when you talk to him like that, sweets. Don't you know you have quite the mouth? Don't worry, babe, he knows you love 'em, just give it time, time is all he needs.

#baki the grappler #bad writing #lovesick #obsessive love #x reader #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x you #katou kiyosumi #yandere kiyosumi katou #kiyosumi katou #kiyosumi katou x reader #baki dou #baki son of ogre #baki hanma #baki headcanons

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abysmal-eve · 2 days

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The reason I love the Bird Trio/HwoaJinXiao polycule so much is because throughout the Tekken story, from part 3 onwards, Jin has mostly been alone and faced many challenges and hardships. It was difficult without his mother's guidance and even harder after Heihachi's betrayal. However, there are two people who have stuck with him and remained the closest to the very end...

Hwoarang and Xiaoyu.

Hwoarang

Hwoarang and Jin first met as teenagers on the streets of Seoul when Heihachi took Jin with him on a bussines trip. At the time, Hwoarang was a gang leader and has likely crossed path with Jin in an attempt to take a money from him, seeing how rich the young Kazama was. He didn't expect Jin to refuse, let alone resist in a great way, as he thought of him as nothing more than a rich spoiled brat, which the latter soon proved him wrong. After their fight ended up in a draw - something that happened to Hwoarang for the first time in his whole life - it sparked something big between them.

At surface level, it looked like a simple rivalry, like any other. However, Hwoarang was the only one who really pushed their rivalrly, demanding that rematch from Kazama over and over, every time they met, but Jin did not take it seriously, nor did he want to fulfil his rival's request at the time as he was focused on getting revenge on the Ogre, leaving Hwoarang frustrated.

After the events of the third King of Iron Fist Tournament, Jin goes missing, leaving the readhead with many questions, and as the time went by, Hwoarang found himself burning with a desire to get the rematch he demanded ever since he lost that day. Fast forward to the 8th KOIF Tournament, Jin and Hwoarang faced off each other again, reingniting that spark of their rivarly from their very first days of the tournament and finding the purpose of it once again.

The rivalry is one-sided for the most of the time being, as Hwoarang is the one who initiates the fight, and Jin being the representative of calm and peaceful Kazama path, so he did not bother with his redhead rival's constant demands. However, in Tekken 8, Jin has finally come to terms with his rivalry with Hwoarang and jas started to reciprocate the need for fight, as seen in their special intro where he says: "Come at me with all you've got." This indicates that he's in a much better mental state and he's willing to play along with his friend and rival, which Hworang accepts happily. They show affection for each other in mutliple different ways, mainly through their fights where they passionately display their will to come out on top and keep the fighting spirit ignited all the way through. Jin respects Hwoarang as his rival indeed, as it can be seen in their Tekken 5 rival battle cutscene, where Jin responds with "no" after Hwoarang asks him if there is somone stronger than him.

Of course, as I am a great fan of "rivals to friends to lovers" trope, the way these two interact made me feel many things about them.

Xiaoyu

Xiaoyu met Jin when he enrolled in the Mishima Polytech High. Being a jolly and extroverted girl with a kind heart, she saw how different and lonesome the young Kazama felt in the school, so she took the matter into her own hands and tried to approach Jin... and it worked.

The tragedy at Jin's home in Yakushima left Jin feeling hopeless and vulnerable for so long, so a person like Xiaoyu was a ray of light that had shown up right after the storm. Xiaoyu's main defining trait was her undying hope and determination and it was that which made her and Jin become close. We can also see Jin call her simply "Xiao" which indicates their close bond and informality that vanished as the result of the relationship developed.

Prior to the fourth King of Iron Fist tournament, as Jin was missing at the time, someone had sent Xiaoyu an email where they warned her about the nefarious plans of Heihachi Mishima, whose protegé she was. It is very implied that it had been Jin, as he had been planning to destroy the Mishimas bloodline along with him at that time. Later in Tekken 5, he warns Xiao to stay away from him and the Mishimas until he deals with Jinpachi, as another sign of him caring about her just as much as Hwoarang.

All up to the events of Tekken 8, Xiaoyu, with her friend Panda, has been in an endless pursuit of searching for Jin, as she was worried and frustarted with everything going on. Just like Hwoarang, she was in disbelief when she heard that it was the young Kazama who started the war, as she knew him way better than everyone else (with a little exception of Hwoarang). Not once did Xiaoyu think of giving up and she chose her allies carefully (Claudio, Zafina) in order to succeed.

Jin and Xiaoyu are each other's biggest supporters and they are the textbook definition of soulmates, as they both know what the other desires and they push one another to success.

TL;DR

Hwoarang and Xiaoyu are the only two people besides Jun that can inspire and move Jin in their own different ways. Hwoarang evokes Jin's fighting spirit and passion, while Xiaoyu brings out his compassion and kindess.

The end. ＼(^_^)／

And this is the main reason why I ship them all together, and no amount of money or ridicule is ever gonna make me stop.

#tekken #jin kazama #hwoarang #ling xiaoyu #hwoajin #xiaojin #xiaojinhwoa #hwoajinxiao #otp #ot3 #polycule #poly ship #analysis #eve rambles #text post

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aleenuhs · 3 days

Note

Sadie adler x f!Reader but saide has been busy all week and the first thing they wanna do is each other :3

My Desire

Made with My Desire by Interpol in mind, do listen hehe

thank u anon x

warnings: smut, pet names (darlin', honey, sweetie, and others), fingering and oral (r receiving), dirty talk, porn w a lil bit of plot, Sadie leaves marks on reader, slight choking, teasing, oral fixation

word count: 1K

not proof read been busy this week

You'd seen Sadie around camp, doing stuff and taking care of business, leaving for a day or two even. She'd been busy this whole week, leaving only a few words spoken between you two. She had hardly any time for you.

Other than that, you've been bored without her. Read a book, did some chores, bathed and slept, that was all it was for you. This time shed just gotten back from Valentine after she and Arthur went scouting to see if there was any opportunities for money or some kind of robbery. It was already night time.

You were sitting in you and Sadie's shared tent, reading a book. You looked up to see Sadie come into the tent and you smiled. "Sadie!" You got up and hugged her just as she tried to take off her jacket and hat.

"Someone missed me," she playfully chided, her accent was so sexy to you.

"I did." You smile, "not a single moment for me this at all this week, hm?" you said, leading her to the cot in the tent, discarding the book that was on the bed, you threw it onto the ground. Sadie took notice of how desperate you seemed for some kind of release, and she couldn't lie, she was too.

She laid you down on the cot and kissed you on the lips, the kisses were quick and sloppy, and no room for any kind of return, she kept you right under her. Her hand traveled to your neck, squeezing a bit to get a rise out of you, you struggled to smile. Your heart was beating at 100 mph, and your knees were weak, you felt so warm under her. Her nose was rubbing against your neck as she kissed it, she eventually left a hickey on your neck.

She was purposefully driving you insane.

"Why'd you ignore me yesterday?" She murmured those muffled words into your neck and your eyes opened.

"I- I was bit mad at you, you... You've been gone for a while," you managed to say. She hums and continues kissing and biting your skin.

Sadie wasted no time making you feel better after a week when she gave you absolutely nothing. Your hands were on her back, where your nails had dug in. Before you could say anything more, she briefly spoke again. "Take off these off."

Her tone was serious as she tugged at your clothing, her voice flat and emotionless this time. You hesitated, as it was sudden and random.

"S'matter, didn't hear me, princess? Take 'em off." She demanded, you listened this time and quickly unbuttoned your shirt, leaving your chest bare and exposed to the cold air.

Sadie gave you some room to slip it off, she started to work on your bottoms and you kicked them off, leaving you in your drawers, she takes those off too. She smiled seeing you naked, her hand comes up to your breast and kneads it, her finger swiping over your nipple, making you bite your lip.

She tosses the clothes onto the ground, then focusing back on you. You tugged her by her blue scarf, connecting your lips with hers in a haste.

She chuckles and pulls away, her fingers trailed to the heat between your thighs. Teasing your inner thighs before she ran her middle finger near your wetness. When you shuttered she laughed. "Sadie, please..." You whimpered out.

"Hm?" She tutted, and you grumbled at how cocky she was getting.

She runs her hand up and down your inner thigh, making you slightly angry how she was teasing you. "I need you, Sadie."

"Attagirl." She smiled, she lowers herself to your thighs and kisses your inner thighs, she licks your clit, making you grip the cot and groan. You could imagine the cocky smirk on her lips right now, her tongue circles your clit slowly. You wanted to urge Sadie to go faster, but Sadie took what she wanted, when she wanted it. There was no use in forcing her to go faster.

After a moment, she laughs and her arms come around your thighs and she buries herself in your cunt, as if this was her dinner.

"Sadie... sads..." You moan out the nickname you'd given her a while back. Your back arching against the cot, hands in her hair, grasping for literally anything at this point. Your thighs wanted to close, and you almost allowed it until her strong grip kept them open and you gave up.

All this built up frustration from this whole entire week, all coming down to this moment as she ate you out. You were already on edge, shaking and all. Your mouth filled with moans and whimpers that were spilling out one by one.

She pulls away to look up at you, since you were covering your mouth now, trying to muffle any noises that came out of your mouth. "Nope, don't." She grabs your wrist and takes it away. You jerk your hips and she smiles, "s'damn desperate." Sadie goes back to eating you out, the sounds of her circling, sucking and lapping at your clit played in the tent. You were more than sure that if anyone else was awake, they were hearing all of it.

She stops, comes back up near your face and you whined, using her fingers, she thrusts a finger into your cunt. She could see your pupils dilate as you looked up at her, those bleary eyes that made her so horny.

"Sadie!" You yelped, she added another finger, and you saw stars.

"Such a good girl, y'gonna cum for me?" She whispered in your ear dragging the syllables of her words and your cunt squeezed around her fingers, before you knew it, you were chasing your orgasm.

Her thumb rubbed your swollen clit, and you moaned loudly, your hand gripping her shoulder, the other gripping the sheets. Her fingers were slowly thrusting in and out of you, making you want to bite metal as you know she liked to see you flustered.

She could see you starting to unravel.

With that, you did, your eyes shut and you moaned and came. Your juices sinking into the mattress below and Sadie smiles, kissing your cheek. "Open up." She ordered, a finger tapped at your plump lips.

You allow her to stick her fingers into your mouth and by habit, you suck them, all while looking up at her. "Such a good girl f'me, honey, ain't cha?" You nod while sucking on her fingers, you were still looking at her. "You look s'cute like this, all suckin' on my fingers."

#sadie adler x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #sadie adler #sadie rdr2 #smut #rdr2 fanfic #wlw #wlw smut

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ghostlygothicgay · 17 hours

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More IV thoughts:

Cw: NSFW, possessiveness, IVs huge cock jealousy issues, ownership kink, collars, leashes, fluff, IV having a stick up his ass at times

brought in partnership to you by my favorite enabler @stonedstargazer666

Im not a writer btw, this was made in a horny haze while day dreaming about him. I'm an artist by trade.

IV is a possessive man

He pretends it's him being protective, both of you know it's not quite the truth.

In public he prevents himself from doing the stuff he really wants to. He's a man who values his privacy and keeping his life to himself, his life includes you as a big part of it. There's never any huge displays of affection or possession when out in the public eye because of that, mostly just fleeting touches, wrapping a finger around yours, knees touching under tables. Little things that remind you that he's not ashamed of the relationship.

There are times when holding himself back becomes difficult. If people are too friendly or ,god forbid, flirting with you, it sets him ablaze. If a glare could kill the person flirting with you would have disintegrated into dust. Still he manages not to make a scene out of it.

His grip is tight on your shoulder when he leans down to speak calmly into your ear, pretending that there's an emergency that you need to tend to. His hand slips down your arm as he walks off, expecting you to follow. You know how he gets jealous, although it's annoyingly childish you know he had his insecurities. You usually will follow after him shortly to find him with his arms crossed off near the doors, waiting for you to finish whatever you were doing.

He's fine with your friends, as soon as he knows what they're about. He needs to know that they won't do anything stupid to put you into danger. He tolerates them and will put up with them if you drag him to do an activity as a group, don't expect him to be happy about it though. For awhile he got pissy about you being with them without him, which you chastised him for and he backed off thankfully.

It still doesn't stop him from wanting to keep you to himself. A precious prize bestowed upon him by sleep itself for his devotion. He knows it's wrong to want to keep you like that though, but his kids will still wander to it… Having you with him at all times with no reason for anything else to tempt you to leave. He doesn't think you'd be disloyal, he just can't help himself. He knows you'd hate to hear about his deepest wishes for the two of you, so he stews over it inside himself.

At home and out of the public eye he's much more open about his protectiveness. The neck is a special point of interest for him, he can't keep his hands off yours whenever he passes. You'll hear the stop steps of his feet approaching and a graze to the back of your neck before it slips away, neither of you speak while it happens. It's partly as a way to say hi without opening his mouth, you both know the other reason he does it. The way your pulse beats and adams' apple moves under his palm always makes his breath quicken.

When the two of you sleep it's like he's trying to absorb you into his own body some nights, hands gripping you wherever they can find bare skin. Pushing and pulling you into a ball so he can wrap himself around you like an animal would it's young. Whenever you wake up the next day your muscles ache, he'll always massage the tension out and apologize with sweet words. Other times you'll wake up with those hands resting around your throat and him watching you peacefully sleeping, his thumbs brushing your skin so lightly as to not wake you.

Your sex life with him also plays into his need to own you, it's a place for him to be able to channel all his frustrations and desires that he doesn't let out. He has a liking for collars and what they represent, getting you a soft leather one to wear during more intense, thought out sessions. Whenever you choose to wear it around the house to tease him he struggles to hold himself back, and oftentimes ends up behind you gripping your body and putting his head into the place where your shoulder and neck meet.

When he gets like this it's so fun to tease him, he gets so desperate but won't do anything unless you give him the go ahead to do so. Eventually he'll break a little and plead with you to do something, even just a kiss would make him happy! You can feel him half hard though his loungewear against your behind, when you grind against him he lets out such shaky breaths. Hands sneak up to hold the rings of your collar while he grinds himself against you, he'll dry hump you till he finishes in his pants if you don't let him go farther than that. Times like that it feels more suitable that he wears the collar.

If you let him, he'll put a leash on your collar and use it to get you where he wants you. Having you on the ground, bare and on all fours, while he sits fully clothed is a power trip fantasy he discovered with you. A tug on the leash to get you between his spread legs is enough to make him pant. The look of obedience on your face makes him want to take you In front of others just so they can see who you answer to, but that would be giving them too much. He'll tug on the leash when you suck him off, making you take him deeper and choke. It feels wonderful.

He bought you yet another collar. Not a leather one with space for a leash but a simple silver chain that serves the same purpose that's suitable to wear outdoors, he has a matching one. His fingers often play with the thin chain around your neck as a way to soothe himself and reassure that you two belong to each other.

#iv sleep token #sleep token #iv sleep token x reader #iv #sleep token iv #sleep token x reader #collar #need him to tug on my leash #collar and leash #bd/sm themes #head canons #headcanon #drabble

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kaisers-house-of-desires · 2 days

Note

So I just read your Muzan and Gojo fluff and loved them so much! Do you think it would be possible for me to request something like the Muzan one where the reader joins Sukuna in becoming a cursed spirit, but they're on opposing ends? Like lovers that are enemies kinda thing 👀

Thank you for the kind words~!

As for your request, I had to do a deep dive into spirits as it's been a hot minute since I've seen anything JJK story wise. In that research, following your request was a bit difficult but I still hope you enjoy it nonetheless~

For all readers: Please keep in mind the process I will use is not canonical in any way and is merely me making this up for the sake of the story.

This may be a bit cheesy, but you know what? We're here to enjoy and indulge in all things.

Should you desire a part 2, do let me know~

Title: To Live with You

Characters: Sukuna x m!reader

Contains: fluff, human transformation, Sukuna is in Yuuji's body

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

Reblogs > likes

Cold...It's so cold...

It felt like ice was coursing through your veins, but you couldn't fight it. Everything was dark, your senses dulled to nothing save for the blistering chill that seemed to spiral through your body.

"I'm almost done. I know, it must hurt."

That voice...whose was it? It sounded so familiar yet so foreign. It didn't help with how fuzzy it sounded, how muffled and distant it was.

You wanted to agree that it did hurt, but your mouth wouldn't budge, no part of you would no matter how hard you tried. You only wished you could remember how you got here so you could try and steady your heart.

Except your heart was already still.

That had to be it. You had to be dead, right? You never knew death would be so cold. Strangely enough, it wasn't terrible. If you got cold enough, everything would numb up, and you would eventually pass, surely.

But it never came, and you continued to lay in frozen limbo.

"Just one more vial...and it will be complete..."

Vial? Complete? Just what was this voice talking about?

Any thought you had would come to a screeching halt as whatever icy sensation you had to give way to a roaring flame. Your body felt like it was engulfed in heat, like you were dropped into a pit of fire. Compared to the numbing cold, you wanted to scream out with how this felt. Going from frozen to blazing was a shock, one that practically shook you out of the comatose sleep you were in.

Eyes snapping open, you sat up, sweat rolling down your face as you panted heavily, gripping at the fabric of your shirt that resided over your chest. You could once again feel the pounding of your heart, though it felt unknown, as if it wasn't meant to beat again. Your vision struggled to focus, your body unsure of its state. You felt wrong, but it was his voice that brought you back.

"Y/N..."

It took you a moment, but once you were able to meet the red eyed gaze of the King of Curses, you knew you were safe. In fact, your memories came flooding back.

The long conversations you two had, the uncertainty, the confusion, fear, acceptance, it all came back to you like a ton of bricks.

He had transformed you as promised.

You instantly wrapped your arms around Sukuna's shoulders, pulling him into a deep kiss, which he returned without hesitation. It lasted longer than any other kiss you had before, but you deserved it for the hell you endured to get to where you were now.

With this cursed transformation, you could live by Sukuna's side.

Except for one thing.

"We need to head back," he breathed once you two broke the kiss. "It's almost sunrise."

It was only now that you realized you weren't in your bed, but instead in a desolate alleyway, free from any peering eyes, but his words made the dull ache return to your body.

"Sukuna--"

"The change is faint for now, but you need to work on surpressing the energy okay?"

"Can't we just run--"

"You knew well what you were signing up for." Sukuna's voice was firm, but careful. He was right, and you knew it. Now, you had to fight more than ever to keep yourself hidden. The change was risky, but you did so to be with the King of Curses as long as you could. "Remember, I won't hold back if we ever need to fight."

You gave a small chuckle, standing on shaky legs. "Try me. With this new change, surely I can handle you."

"Now don't get cocky," Sukuna teased with a smirk, standing with you and holding you steady. "Let's get back before it's too late."

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