rin-fukuroi

[rin-fukuroi]

[rin-fukuroi]

Just look at this beauty that a friend painted for me! Be sure to subscribe to her to see more of the same magnificent works performed by her (≧◡≦) ♡

Bladie for my friend!

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

If you want to support me and read my other works that won't be on Tumblr, you can always do it on my Boosty~

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairings: Ayato, Kaeya, Thoma, Neuvillete, Tartaglia x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, modern AU, established relationships, intimate photos, masturbation.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. P1Harmony - Do It Like This

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

Hey! I think you all miss the dick pic. Although no one asked me to do this, but you don't need to ask me even once to bring you something to eat! Enjoy your meal ( ˘▽˘)っ♨

✦ Ayato

You'll have to try very hard, having endured all the cunning tricks of this man, in order to get a response photo from him immediately after he asks you to do your own.

Initially, it sounded like another joke, very typical for Ayato, but he was very surprised when you took it for a real request, pleasing the man with your piquant photo at perhaps not the most appropriate moment when he was at an important meeting. Fortunately for him, Ayato has enough self-control not to show how aroused he was by the image of your seductive body in front of strangers, but unfortunately for you, he just couldn't resist taking advantage of this opportunity.

It's always fun to play on your guilt, but when adding to your favorite collection of photos is at stake, a special excitement wakes up in Ayato. Of course, although you continue to play along with your lover from time to time, you yourself begin to get a taste. How much longer will he last, continuing to read your dirty messages and looking at the new photos that you took for him, before he snaps and just leaves work only to come home and fuck you to a state in which you'll not be able to not only type, but even pronounce his name? Ayato knows perfectly well what you are doing, so he staunchly withstands your attacks, believing that you yourself don't realize what you have just signed up for.

When he gets home, you better immediately wait for him on your knees without extra clothes, hoping that this will at least smooth out your future punishment a little, because if you think that Ayato will let you cum as fast as you want, then you're damn wrong.

As for his photo for you… Perhaps you still don't deserve to get them enough, but he'll definitely choose the most unfortunate moment for you to put you in an awkward position when one day a charming and insanely seductive photo of his naked body and an excited dick appears in your dialogue, to which you'll not have access. Next time you'll think twice before playing along with this scheming man, but isn't that why you fell in love with him?

✦ Kaeya

art by @cheng25598

Kaeya doesn't even know what would be better, to discourage you with his unexpectedly racy photo or to start by forcing you to do it? But he's so carefree and lazy that he doesn't think long before just sending you a photo of his horny cock while he's dying of boredom waiting for you at home on his day off. Of course, he doesn't care at all that you at work and how, perhaps, all the colleagues around you heard your surprised squeak when you opened a dialogue with your lover.

This is the first time Kaeya has decided to have fun with something like this, expecting you to be embarrassed for sure. It pisses you off that he's right, and your face is inevitably blushing now, while you, trying to look as non-suspicious as possible, run out of your office, hastily closing yourself in the bathroom.

[Y/N]: Wtf, Kaeya?! I'm at work!

[Kaeya]: I just missed you;)

His carelessness will drive you to your grave someday, but you bite your lower lip, suddenly meeting the reflection of your flushed face in the mirror. You'd be lying if you said you didn't want to be at home right now, punishing your annoying lover properly, which is so obvious from the way moisture begins to accumulate between your thighs, settling on the fabric of your underwear. There are still a few hours until the end of the working day, but you're so infuriated by the ease with which Kaeya manipulates you once again, involving you in his dishonest game when you nervously glance at the door, taking a photo in the mirror, as close as possible to the concept of «sexy» in such an environment.

You were about to put your phone in your pocket, sending your reply photo with the indifferent caption: «Glad for you. See ya in two hours», expecting it to calm him down for a while, but didn't even expect to instantly hear the notification sound.

[Kaeya]: I don't think a photo in underwear will be enough to compare to what I sent u:( Or are u afraid that one of your colleagues will see what we doing?

[Kaeya]: If I were wit u right now, you'd have to hide a lot more obscene things.

[Y/N]: Huh? Do u really think u'd make me undress in front of u in the bathroom at my job?

You really don't know how Kaeya do it, but for some reason you fall for his provocations every time, now feeling the heat that you can no longer ignore burning your lower abdomen more and more, while your eyes slide over the most obscene lines that you've ever read, even considering that what kind of person you decided to connect your life with.

But one thing is for sure — now Kaeya's goal is no longer to dispel his own boredom, but to make you cum in one of the cramped booths while he enjoys driving you crazy with his unsurpassed talent for eloquence, describing in detail how he would fuck you in each in the corner of a small bathroom.

Next time, perhaps Kaeya should pay you a personal visit.

✦ Thoma

art by @sonomi_rap5

Poor Thoma almost dropped out of his hands all the groceries that he decided to buy before returning home when he felt the vibration of the phone in his pocket, almost sure that this notification was from your message. You often write to him, knowing what time his working day ends, and asking him to grab something from the store, but this…

The confused man hastily turns away from all the people passing by, huddled in the corner of one of the shelves, when an attachment to your playful message appeared in front of his astonished green eyes, which said that you were looking forward to him at home. Is that new underwear?.. Thoma feels his cheeks flush with a bright blush, and his heart is pounding so wildly in his chest as he desperately tries to put aside all obscene thoughts. But this is hardly possible. You are so charming, adorable, divine in this photo, which he instantly saves before fixing his mesmerized gaze on him for a few more moments, feeling his cock harden and rest against his thigh.

«I'll be home soon!», — is the only message you get before Thoma disappears from the online, and you can't help but chuckle softly, imagining with what excitement and embarrassment he'll pay at the checkout.

As for him… Your gallery has been filled with his photos, perhaps not as soon as you would like. On the one hand, teasing a nice guy like Thoma is very funny, but on the other hand, you didn't want to embarrass him by luring him into your entertainment, which is not even the fact that he'll like it. But still, at some point you think that your relationship is strong enough not to collapse from one of your innocent… okay, obscene requests.

You'd like to see the look on Thoma's face when he saw the message with your dirty request. After a couple of minutes of silence, you were about to say that it was all just a joke, before you hear the notification sound, hurriedly grabbing your phone.

You have no idea where he hid to quickly take a cute photo for you, in which you can barely see anything because of the darkness in the room that Thoma chose for the photo shoot, but it's so charming that such a modest guy like him went to such obscenities for you, even at the risk to be noticed at your own work.

Thoma gets incredibly nervous when he doesn't get an answer from you for a long time, but he frantically looks at the inscription that you are typing something. Oh, should he have taken a better photo, or was it just a joke that he took seriously? But all his doubts and worries fade into the background, giving way to even greater embarrassment than what Thoma experienced when he received such a piquant request from you, when you send him a photo in response, but this time without clothes. The accompanying message contains detailed descriptions of how much you miss him and that you can't cope with how you miss your beloved boyfriend next to you to quench your thirst to feel his cock from that cute photo that he sent you, inside yourself.

What are you doing with him?.. It should be illegal to corrupt such an innocent guy in this way, but Thoma is really happy that he got the most beautiful girl in the world who is able to make him commit follies, just like he is now locking the door of some dark storeroom in his office, unable to cope with the desire that has captured him body and mind.

He doesn't know why you like to embarrass him like that, but… maybe he's starting to like it.

✦ Neuvillette

It's not that Neuvillette didn't know how to use a phone at all, but let's be honest, this skill wasn't even necessary for him until the day you appeared in his life. Making the necessary calls and occasionally using banal SMS was all he was capable of, so using messengers was something new for him, which, of course, Neuvillette needed your help to figure out.

At first, both of you just exchanged innocent short messages, because, you knew, he couldn't often be distracted from his work due to an increased sense of responsibility, but one day a fleeting thought came to your bright head, which you managed to grasp and even decide that it would really be funny to just send Neuvillette your candid photo in the middle of the working day.

And really, what will he do about it?

Neuvillette is so sweet in his seriousness and responsible approach to literally everything in this world, which makes him a wonderful partner, but your hands have always itched so irrepressibly to throw something like that, knocking a stoically calm man out of his rut.

When you saw that Neuvillette had read the message, but had been silent for ten minutes, you almost thought that he had just decided to ignore your prank, but you had no idea what was really going on. After opening your message, Neuvillette just froze, not understanding what he should reply or do. It's the first time this has happened to him, and he's really discouraged.

The most respected and responsible judge doesn't say a word, just staring at his phone for ten minutes? This definitely doesn't go unnoticed. Although he is not particularly sociable, worried colleagues still wonder if everything is all right with him, finally bringing the poor confused Neuvillette out of his stupor. His head really had thoughts of consulting with someone on this topic, but he decides that this question is still too intimate to ask it to an insufficiently close person, so he has no choice but to solve this puzzle on his own and briefly unsubscribe to you that he'll be at home soon, before silently leaving the office.

To say that you were shocked to see Neuvillette on the doorstep of your shared house as soon as possible after receiving his message is to say nothing. But what struck you even more was when he hurriedly threw off his suit, with all the seriousness that only he is capable of, silently climbing onto your bed.

— Neuvi, what are you doing? Why aren't you at work? — you interrupt the man when he was about to throw off the rest of his clothes, before pausing, giving you a puzzled look.

— I got your photo.

— Yes… and?

— I thought you wanted to have sex, so I came home.

— Is that all?..

— Yes. Isn't that what you wanted? Why are you laughing?

p.s. After half an hour of an embarrassing but laugh-provoking conversation in which you explained to Neuvillette that couples sometimes exchange intimate photos while away from each other, it seems that the man finally realized for what purpose you committed such an uncharacteristic act for you.

Well… everyone learns from their mistakes. Next time, you might be lucky to see his inept first intimate photo if you tell him how to switch to the front camera before that.

✦ Tartaglia

art by @eriimyon

For both of you, sharing any photos when you are away from each other is quite common, but Childe was still the first to dilute your usual correspondence, accompanied by cute and funny photos of your dog and what you cooked for dinner, with something more piquant.

Your lover, without any hesitation, asked you to take a photo for him when, on another of his long business trips, he felt too lonely away from you, and didn't even think about what he might receive a refusal to his request. You can say that you are both on some kind of your common comfortable wave, so you are happy to approach the task set before you even with some degree of creativity, making a photo of your breasts covered with whipped cream for Childe.

«This could be your dessert after dinner;)», — Childe is both touched, excited and saddened by your funny photo caption. He would like to be next to you to enjoy such a tempting dessert, but all he can do is take a photo for you in return.

[Childe]: Unfortunately, i didn't have cream next to me, so this is all the dessert u can count on!

You would have laughed at his joke if the dick on his photo that Childe took for you didn't look even more attractive than any sweet thing you can imagine. This is the first time that you have to describe in words all the things that you would do with this amazing cock, but it also had its own charm.

Your correspondence eventually ended in a rather heated conversation on the phone, which also came to naught as soon as the degree of tension between the two of you was so high that the only thing coming from the speakers of your phones was only moans and heavy sighs, while you were already in complete disarray, too lost in your own obscene fantasies. Perhaps Childe has never in his life masturbated with such pleasure as to the sounds of your sweet voice, holding in his head that image of you that was captured in a racy photo taken especially for him, just as you have never experienced an orgasm from how damn sexy his muffled moans sound in the speaker of your phone.

Of course, this is still so insanely little, but since then you both have a new common entertainment that you can do on lonely evenings to get over the separation. On the other hand, you have seriously opened a real Pandora's Box, now putting the idea in Childe's head that he can tease you in this way, so be prepared for the fact that one day you will receive a dirty message from him or even just a photo at the most inopportune moment (although no one said that you can't return the favor).

p.s. if u know the author of the rest of the art, write me their nicknames in private messages, and i'll add them in the post, because I have been saving these arts for a long time ago and now cannot find their owners:(

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 [𝐋𝐮𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐚]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

If you want to support me and read my other works that won't be on Tumblr, you can always do it on my Boosty~

Part 1

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: uncle!Luocha x niece!fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, modern AU, a hint of incest, yandere, some wet fantasies of Luocha.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. 黄龄 - 只有猫知道

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

I'm sorry, i completely forgot to upload the second part to Tumblr, although i wrote it a week ago, ahahahah. Someday i'll stop forgetting that i have a Tumblr, and will upload here all the dozens of works that i have written, but were too lazy to translate it into english XD

He thought you were mature enough to realize who really cared for you. A cruel time separated the two of you, but Luocha knew it would be good for you. Separation breeds longing, and longing spreads the petals of dormant feelings. You missed him, and it would be foolish to hide it, because Luocha could see in your face how much you missed him. Of course, because he was the only one who supported you, the only one who cared about you, and the only one you could depend on. And that is the unchanging truth.

Luocha acted rashly as he continued to chastise himself for impatience, which was uncharacteristic of him. With your departure, you left him in a slight state of confusion, covered with a fleur of inexplicable enthusiasm. He replays in his memories the silhouette of your figure, the velvety softness of your skin, those lovely cheeks powdered with embarrassment, and doesn't understand how everything could end so badly… Luocha is a reserved person, patient and compliant when the situation demands it, and he never planned to act so abruptly with you, now wondering what prompted him to do exactly that? You were too beautiful in your loss and gray apathy, which he skillfully decorated with bright colors with just your presence. It's very pleasant to realize that, like life-giving water and light that make fading flowers bloom, he has awakened the old warmth in your wounded heart. You are indeed like the enchanting white lily flower, pure and innocent, that he tried to defame.

And Luocha has no regrets. His only regret is that he made the first move too early.

You both need a little more time. You should get over the stress, calm down, and then you're bound to come to the conclusion that your beloved uncle simply couldn't have wanted to hurt you. And Luocha needs to tame her demons. It's not time to set them free yet, because then he risks destroying what he has been building so diligently for years. And how lucky that you left him a small gift, thanks to which he holds on for a whole week, so as not to snap and show up at your doorstep.

Luocha can clearly see his long fingers sliding over your skin, squeezing your seductive sides as he makes his way to your breasts. Oh, if you only knew how much effort it took for him to restrain himself from falling into that elastic warm flesh. Luocha wanted so badly to feel your nipples harden on his tongue, wanted to know what your naked breasts would look like when you lay beneath him, wanted to hear what your voice would sound like, relaxed and quiet, soaked in pure pleasure. And only these thoughts keep his insane impulses in check.

It's so exciting to be standing at your door. No, not because Luocha feels guilty, but because he can't wait to see you again. He knows you're home, he's seen your car parked outside, but you take so long to open the door that your uncle gets worried. You couldn't have known he was coming, couldn't have seen him coming up to your house, could you? And if you did, do you still hold a grudge against him?

— I'm coming, coming... — Luocha hears your tired voice outside the door and your slow footsteps after the next bell rings, and all worries seem to melt away in sweet anticipation. He'll see you again.

As soon as your footsteps are hushed and your uncle realizes you've come to the door, an uncomfortable silence hangs. You must have seen him through the peephole, but he doesn't hear the click of the lock or any other sounds. As soon as this door opens, he'll be reunited with you, his beloved niece, whose separation lasted like an eternity, but why are you delay? Should he say something?

— What are you doing here? — you ask quietly, and Luocha hears your hand press against the door on the other side.

— Y/N, I'm sorry. I know I've been acting weird, it won't happen again.

«And I'm not lying to you, Y/N»

— Now everything will be different.

«That's right. Now I'll do everything I can to make you want to reach out to me»

— Open the door, let's talk. I'm worried about you.

«No one else in this world cares more about you than I do»

After a few seconds of stifling silence, Luocha hears you cough and his heart flutters in his chest. Are you sick?

There's a loud click, and the doors slowly swing open in front of the tall blond man. Luocha has prepared much better today than in your last meeting. He wants to erase the line that separates you, so he chose the best suit he had in his wardrobe. The black color contrasts so vividly with the white robe that you are usually used to seeing on him, and a small sweet gift in a bag in his hand should cheer you up and diversify the list of familiar treats that he shared with you after the reception.

— I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting guests, so the house is a bit of a mess, but you can come in if you want, — you open the door, and Luocha’s gaze is instantly drawn to the way you wrap your palms around your shaking shoulders, leaning unnaturally against the doorjamb. Your face looks so exhausted, your hair is disheveled as if you haven't touched a comb in days, and your t-shirt and homemade shorts look untidily rumpled.

— Y/N, are you shivering? — long fingers tighten on the handle of the paper bag while worried green irises run over your tired face.

— It's just a cold, nothing special. Like I said, I just wasn't waiting...

— I'm sorry... — your uncle whispers unintelligibly, and just as you're about to ask what he's apologizing for, Luocha leans forward, suddenly placing her palm on top of your head before bending down and pressing his lips to your forehead.

— W-what are you...!

— You have a fever. How long have you been sick? Have you taken any medicine? We need to get you to bed, — Luocha grips your hands anxiously, reflexively pressing his index and middle fingers against one of your wrists, feeling your rapid pulse.

— I don't… I don't know, a couple of days. I thought it was a cold, so I just slept and…

— Where's your bedroom? — your uncle doesn't even seem to be listening, hurriedly slamming the door and casually leaving the package on the table in the hallway.

It's not exactly what he was hoping for.

✧ ✧ ✧

Luocha involuntarily remembers you when you were very young, when he also helped you cope with a cold, hurrying from work as soon as possible after your mother's call. You've grown up, but you still look charmingly helpless when he puts a pill in your mouth, holding a glass of water to your lips. A small, sweet creature, shivering under the covers. Your uncle's heart is splitting apart at the thought of you feeling bad, but surely you can forgive him this little sin of enjoying the fact that you need him?

— Why didn't you call me?

— I didn't want to bother you about nothing.

«Lie»

— Y/N, whatever happens between us, I'll always be ready to come and help you... I know it's hard to forgive my transgression, but you are my family, and that's always the case. Please don't take on any more burdens that you can't carry alone. You're not alone.

There is some peace in wiping your forehead with a damp towel while you pout guiltily, hiding your lips under a fluffy blanket. Luocha wanted to take the first step towards changing your attitude towards him, but in the end he remains for you only a caring uncle who worries about your health. If it wasn't necessary, he would have hated himself the second he allowed his intentions to falter, but now… now he will allow you to see only your close relative and a doctor in him once again, saving your fragile life.

— Thank you... — you mumble softly into the blanket, guiltily averting your gaze, and Luocha's hand stops hanging over your forehead, and the light green eyes widen, fixing their gaze on your trembling eyelashes. — I'm sorry that I, well… ran away then.

Oh, are you really apologizing to him? He didn't hear it, did he?

— I think we were both out of our minds that day. It's okay, — Luocha smiles softly, tucking the wet towel back into the small bowl of water on your bedside table.

— I always thought you were too kind, — you chuckle wryly, then cough and wrap yourself even tighter in the blanket.

— Is it bad?

— I don't know... I'm not sure I deserve it.

— You deserve all the best in the world, Y/N, — did he really say that out loud? For a moment, Luocha’s heart froze in his chest with a prick of consternation, but another of your laughs made the man relax. — Ahem... Okay, you need to rest.

He really should leave you now. Although your uncle really doesn't want to leave you so soon, you'll hardly be happy if he continues to sit on your bed until you fall asleep. He'd like to see you sleep...

— W-wait! — as soon as Luocha gets up from the edge of your bed, you suddenly take your hand out from under the covers, wrapping it around the man's wrist, forcing him to sit back down. What's gotten into you? Do you want him to stay? Why?

— Do you need something else? — he regains his composure, as does that eternal charming smile on Luocha's lips when he covers your palm with his own. Your hands are so small and so cold. If only he could hold them in his for a little longer, but it will definitely make you uncomfortable...

— Since you've traveled so far to see me, maybe... Will you stay the night?

Oh, are you afraid to be alone? Luocha wanted to offer you the same thing, but it would sound… a little awkward from him. But if you ask him to do it yourself, how can he refuse his sweet niece?

— If you need it, Y/N, of course I'll stay. On my way to the bedroom, I noticed a sofa in your living room, so I'll spend the night on it.

— No! — you squeeze Luocha’s wrist harder, suddenly exclaiming loudly before you cough again, burying your nose in the blanket. — I... Can I ask you to lie down with me?

Your uncle allowed for the possibility that you might miss him, but this… Why are you asking him for something like this after the way he behaved in your last meeting?

«Do you really...»

No, no, your attitude towards him couldn't have changed in a week, it's just impossible. But even if that's the case, he still shouldn't let his guard down. You are so seductively asking him for something like this, probably completely unaware of how he feels after such an innocent request that fell from your lips, but he should keep his cool.

Luocha opens his eyes wide and raises eyebrows, looking at you peeking out from under the warm blanket.

— I'm not sure if that would be a good idea...

— P-please... I'm so cold, — you say pitifully, and Luocha falls silent with his lips open before he closes mouth, slowly running his thumb along the back of your palm.

He'll be able to touch you. He'll be able to hug you. He'll be able to inhale the smell coming from your body, and not the things that you recklessly left in his house. He'll be able to hear you breathing steadily, slowly sinking into sleep.

You're probably not yourself because of the fever. What if in the morning, when the temperature drops, you get mad at him again? Luocha can't take that risk, but he's so damn eager to agree to your tempting offer. He's not a gambler, he's used to sticking to a premeditated strategy, even if it will lead him to the goal only after many years. Luocha was willing to wait as long as it took, but wasn't his goal to make you want him? Doesn't what you're asking him for mean that your attitude towards him has already begun to change?

— Okay. I'll stay with you.

Though Luocha can't see your lips, your eyes tell him much more when you loosen your grip on his wrist, tucking your hand back under the blanket. You're glad. And he's the one who makes you smile again.

Luocha gets out of bed, carefully shrugging off his jacket. His hands reflexively reached for the belt on his trousers, but suddenly only paused for a moment on the buckle before moving to the tie, carefully untying it around the collar of the white shirt.

It's so unusual to get on your bed while you crawl closer to the wall, giving up your place on the next pillow and turning to face him. You've never spent a night together before, although Luocha would be blatantly lying if he said that he never wanted this, especially since the day you returned to him two years later.

You sniffle softly, huddling on your side of the bed as Luocha lifts the covers, settling down next to you before covering you both again now. Ah… your bed smells exactly like that bra he keeps carefully under his pillow. A sweet, alluring scent that envelops his heart with warmth, like this very blanket. Everything here smells of you.

— Luocha, your suit...

— Don't worry, I'll come home before my shift.

— You're leaving in the morning? — you ask in an almost upset voice. Probably, Luocha is already asleep and has the most charming dream of all possible.

— If you want, I can try to take a day off...

— No, no, no! No need, I can handle it on my own.

He didn't answer you. He should probably just close his eyes and try to fall asleep, but how hard is it to do that when Luocha hears your breathing so clearly… But it gets even more difficult when you move closer, pressing your forehead against his collarbones. You're shaking, desperately holding onto your own shoulders, and your uncle only hesitates for a couple of seconds before succumbing to the irresistible urge to hug you. He knows like no one else that the chills will stop tormenting you only when the antipyretic takes effect, but his heart breaks to shreds when he sees you so defenseless and reaching for him.

— Thank you… — this is the last thing Luocha heard before the silence in the room was filled with your charming snuffling, and your body relaxed in his arms, gradually ceasing to tremble.

Luocha is a little ashamed that he was coming to you with the intention of destroying this wall separating you from him, however… Why did he feel it crack so clearly at the moment when you first called him by his name?

— Good night, Y/N.

[rin-fukuroi]

Instead of condemning the authorities, police and special services for not fighting the darknet, do people go on Tumblr and write nonsense to the authors? Dude, you're looking for the root of the problem in the wrong place. "Piscis primuin a capite foetat" (с) This quote should make you think at least a little about what nonsense you wrote.

I think it's worth just separating real life and creativity. But, unfortunately, not everyone has the skill that is so necessary in the current realities.

[rin-fukuroi]

dude… i get that ur blog is a dark theme/dead dove do not eat blog but why would u wrote abt smt that exists in the dark corners of the internet where real people suffer from?????

Okay, to clarify the situation, don't people suffer from rape? Don't they suffer from harassment and other manifestations of psychological pressure? Don't they suffer from murders? However, tumblr is full of works with similar content. I suggest you go to all the authors of such content and ask them the same thing if you have nothing else to do;)

[rin-fukuroi]

My Telegram channel

I've been wanting to share my TG-channel with you for a long time, but since I write there in my native language, I guess not everyone will be interested, but I'll leave a link here for the most interested. I mostly post spoilers for my future work there, but mostly I just communicate with my subscribers, so I'll be glad to see you there! You can also find an anonymous bot in the pinned message, where you can ask me all the questions you are interested in or share something with me~

Hug everyone<3

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞? [𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞]

Hey! This is just the beginning of a voluminous work, the full version of which can be read on my Boosty. This job was very hard for me, and I have never seen any other work that would touch on such a terrifying topic in its plausibility. I'll be glad if you want to read it in its entirety~

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: yandere!Blade x fem!reader  

Warnings: NSFW, NSFL, dark content, Red Room*, captivity, illegal broadcasts and filming with scenes of cruelty and violent acts of a sexual nature, physical violence, gang rape, dry sex, rough anal and oral sex, cumshot, detailed descriptions of blood and bodily injury, mention of necrophilia and murders (both strangers and the reader), Stockholm syndrome, the reader has pronounced mental abnormalities from the beginning to the end of the work.

*Red Room — hidden sites on the darknet that host interactive live broadcasts with torture, violence and murder of people, where anyone can donate any amount in cryptocurrency and order any torture or method of murder via chat, thus telling the executioner exactly what he needs to do with the victim.

The Red Rooms, of course, are closed, and the average user will never be able to access these broadcasts.

Until now, the existence of such broadcasts is questioned, but there were also real cases that indirectly had something in common with the description of the Red Room. However, scammers mostly use such a legend, deceiving people for considerable sums, promising to give them access to a cruel event.

art by Dakotchi

Darkness, through the thickness of which a dim light occasionally breaks through, so weak that every time it loses to the darkness, dying somewhere in the distance of a spacious but empty room. The rotten smell of dampness and metal, causing nausea. Plaintive screams, begging to stop… You're not entirely sure if you're actually hearing them, or if they've already settled in your head, depriving you of sleep day after day.

Day by day… More than one day has passed behind the high metal doors, and you don't even know when the sun rises and sets again.

The darkness and the cold from the rusty metal bars scratching your cheek. Rot and screams. Then only silence and nausea. Even the outlines of your own body are gradually blurred, swallowed up in pitch darkness, in which you can't even see your own hands. It's so cold, so lonely and so scary. Even the dreams that you see when you disconnect from impotence and hunger repeat what your eyes see, your ears hear and your skin feels in a disgusting reality. Or are they not dreams at all? Have you slept at all since you got here?

The steps. Every time you hear that heavy clatter of boots on metal, it is drowned out by the frantic pulsations of the heart in your ears. When will these steps catch up with you? What will their owner do to you? Even the most heart-rending screams that reach you from somewhere far away outside the cage in which you are locked, at some point subside. They dissolve into a deafening silence that greedily swallows them, forever erasing them from the face of the Earth.

It will consume you, too, won't it?

No, no, there must be some way out of here. People are never abducted for no reason, right? If the person who locked you in here needs something, all you have to do is give it to him and everything will return to its place. Your little apartment, friends, family… Daylight. You'll see it all. It's going to be very soon.

Humans are such strange creatures. We are afraid of the unknown, but we are inevitably drawn to it. Your body shudders instinctively, and a chilling shiver runs through your skin every time you hear someone approaching this room, but you still hesitate.

«Come in here, please...»

«Let me go...»

«No, don't come in...»

«I'm hungry, I want to talk to someone, please...»

«ENOUGH!»

Your own voice in your head sounds so loud, contradicting yourself. Over and over, he whispers, screams and grates. When will he shut up, when will he leave you alone? You want silence, the very silence that carries away the voices of strangers begging for mercy. Why can't that drown out your voice? He is unbearable, so annoying that you want to crack your skull, pull it out by the roots and throw it into the dense thicknesses of darkness that slowly absorbs your feet and fingers.

«Enough… Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, please...»

— Help... someone…

Chapped lips stretch, trembling flesh tingles with burning pain from salty tears rolling down your cheeks. What have you become? Why can't you just calm down? The sharp claws of fear dig into the frantically pounding muscle in your chest, drawing blood from the throbbing flesh. Red-hot metal spreads under the skin, and a hand reaches for the wounded organ, clutching the fabric of a tear-soaked shirt in desperation. So you still have clothes on…

The disgusting vibrations of the grinding of metal on metal make your spine shiver, and bright light obscures your eyes, forcing you to squint, reflexively hiding even deeper into the corner of the cage. The sound of boots now sounds so close, driving chaotic thoughts out of your head with each new step. Has someone come to save you? Really come? Won't you be alone anymore?

You sniffle, crumpling your shirt tighter with your fingers before hesitantly opening your eyes. The unfamiliar silhouette triples and blurs in a blinding glow, and you blink several times, trying to focus your vision on the figure standing in front of you. The first thing you see are dusty black big boots and long legs in gray trousers splattered with something dark. A man, right?.. His gaze slides higher over the slightly rumpled fabric of a black shirt with sleeves rolled up on muscular scarred forearms and long fingers adjusting leather gloves on his wrist. Long dull maroon strands wave slightly at the level of the man's hips before he crouches in front of your cage. Your heart constricts in fear, and you look away, afraid to look into his eyes, but then slowly turn your head back, noticing a black mask hiding his face on the stranger's face. Even the eyes are hidden behind a thick shadow, and only the disheveled ends of the hair scatter over the matte surface when the man tilts his head to the side. You can't see his face, but you can feel his gaze with every nerve in your body. Heavy, piercing, as if seeing through you.

The mere presence of this person in the room makes your blood run cold, and the words do not add up to sentences in any way, leaving your mouth open and your lips trembling in pathetic attempts to close back. Can he... help you in any way?

— Get up, — the man's voice is even darker than the oppressive aura surrounding him as he pulls the keys out of his pants pocket with a loud ring of a bunch that makes you flinch with fright when opening the cage door.

— You... — you mumble incoherently to yourself, hugging your knees to your chest. — What do you want from me?..

How difficult it was for you to ask this short question. If this stranger has the keys to the cage, then he locked you in it. If he heard the same screams that you heard, then at least he didn't do anything about it, or worse, he was the cause of these people's suffering. If his trousers are covered in blood…

The man ignores your question by reaching into the cage and casually grabbing your shoulder. The grip is so strong that you feel the blood rush with a painful burning sensation to the place where his fingers roughly squeeze your flesh, and your body reflexively shrinks even more, tearing a dissatisfied clucking from the stranger's tongue.

— NO! PLEASE! — it's been so long since you've speak, that your voice already sounds hoarse and pathetic, as loud as the constricted lungs allow it, desperately spitting out air while the man indifferently pulls you forward. Your head hits the rusty threshold of the cage, and your screams are replaced by stifled sobs.

— Stop it, — the man spits out irritably, picking you up by the hand from the floor like a doll.

For a moment, the stranger is silent, staring intently at how a thin trail of blood slowly flows from the scratch on your forehead as you tremble in his grip, unintelligibly repeating «please» over and over again, making weak attempts to get back into the cage.

— Please… I'll give you everything you ask for.… Let me go…

How many times had he heard something like this before? Even in this state, you feel how deeply he doesn't care about your meaningless babble, but what else can you do? You are so weak that you can barely stand on your feet, keeping your balance only by a painful grip on your shoulder until it forces you to drag yourself towards the open door.

— Wait! Where are you taking me?!

The corridors outside are so narrow and stink with an even more nauseating metallic smell, which only gets worse as the stranger takes you further away from the cage, which now seems to be the safest place in this endless maze-like building. You stumble, almost falling, still hoping to escape from the grip of a man who absolutely doesn't pay the slightest attention to your pathetic attempts. No matter how hard you try to cling to the walls, you don't have enough strength to make yourself at least try to stop. The tenacious grip of a large gloved hand is so strong that it seems as if a stranger's fingers are pushing through your skin and flesh to the bone, pulling out more and more screams and sobs from your strangled throat.

Through the tears blurring your eyes, you catch the outlines of large open doors somewhere far ahead of a long corridor, and panic even more strongly engulfs the poor heart, ready to break ribs, tear flesh and fly out onto the dirty sticky floor under your feet.

— Please don't be silent… Just tell me what you need, and I'll...! — a salty-sour taste accompanies a sharp pain when you bite your tongue from a sharp blow on the cheek, forcing you to shut up instantly. The skin burns and throbs in the area of the red thumbprint that has appeared, and the lungs contract painfully, unable to take in air.

— Shut your mouth, I don't need anything from you.

«Don't need anything...?»

Are you a hostage? Is this man blackmailing someone close to you? No. He lets you see the place where he's holding you, doesn't even handcuff you, and doesn't bother to bring you at least water.

It's been so obvious all this time, but for some reason a terrifying realization is covering you with an icy shiver just now.

You'll only get out of here in a black bag.

[rin-fukuroi]

Hey~ I don’t know if you would agree to write a work with this character, but I feel real despair that there are practically no decent works with this character. Gepard leads in sex. Please… Maybe incest with a yandere or deflowering? I'm so tired of reading Gepard passively and no one understands me.

Hi! (o˘◡˘o)

I think I can help you with that. How about everything at once? I hope this heals your wounds, because I'm also outraged by the fact that many writers describe Gepard as a shy and passive guy as possible, when he is completely different. No, of course he's charming and sweet, but damn, he's the CAPTAIN. He's a man with a core, stubborn and principled, a man who has managed to earn trust, which means he is firm in his beliefs and a sense of justice is not alien to him at all. Of course, he can be gentle with his beloved, but come on, who didn't imagine how his hand in this metal glove squeezes someone's (for example, ours) throat? I imagined it! I don't care about the rest. I'm very glad that I'm not the only one who loves dominant strong men, so I was happy to write this work for you. I hope you like it~

𝐀 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞 [𝐆𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐝]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

If you want to support me and read my other works that won't be on Tumblr, you can always do it on my Boosty~

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: dom!older brother!Gepard x sub!fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, incest, yandere, stalking, flogging, light choking, petting, loss of virginity, rape (?), rough public sex, creampie, references to pregnancy.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. Poylow, BAUWZ, Nito-Onna - Hate You

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

art by @tksm_66

You love your family, really. Your sisters have always been so kind to you that you could even call them your friends, despite the age difference, but at some points they still made you remember that they are your relatives. Serval can be overly caring, but a Lynx, on the contrary, is freedom-loving, so sometimes you have to return to the role of an older sister, looking after her. And yet you love them. Even Gepard.

Why «even»? It's hard to say exactly where your strange relationship originates from, because you didn't immediately realize that there was something unnatural in them. Does older brother take care of you? Well, all relatives take care of each other, don't they? Does he like to spend all his free time with you? You're probably close enough, and that's great. Does your older brother kiss you, hug you, and take a bath with you? Oh, it's very sweet that he cared and loved his little sister so much as a child.

But your childhood ended a long time ago, and your relationship has not changed at all.

Gepard trying to be unobtrusive, but it turns out to be very lousy. You know that he secretly looks into your phone, studying each of your correspondence, but you don't say anything, because your brother just doesn't want you to get involved with bad people, right? Gepard doesn't want you to live separately, despite the fact that you have been on your feet for a long time and can afford it, but you keep silent and agree, because he just wants you to be there because he wants to protect you. Gepard forbids you to go on dates and get to know other men, but you don't mind, even though you don't understand what he cares about it. Gepard suggests that you take a shower together when the two of you return home, because he always meets you after your shift, despite his own unstable schedule, and you… agree, because this is your brother, there's nothing wrong with that, right?

You're confused. Seeing the relationships in your friends' families, you gradually begin to pay attention to the fact that even between a brother and sister there should be a distance that you and Gepard don't have. Are they crazy or are you?

— Geppie's just worried about you, honey! Don't pay attention, one day he'll definitely calm down, you just have to show him that you have really grown up and no longer need his care.

Serval's words are firmly embedded in your brain, because during this recent conversation, you still didn't understand that, in fact, even the older sister confirmed that what you told her was not quite right. You didn't talk about sharing a bathroom, you didn't talk about how Gepard kisses you on the corner of your lips when he leaves for work in the morning, you didn't talk about how he violates your personal space. Probably, deep down, you really knew that it shouldn't be like this, so you didn't tell the truth.

You love your older brother, you really do. That's why you decided to talk to him first. For some reason, it was so disturbing and exciting to start a conversation, but you are a family, and he'll understand you if you are only sincere, right? It should have been like this.

— You're still young and don't understand that living away from your family will only harm you. I take care of you, I give you everything you want, why do you want to run away so much?

«Because your concern is suffocating me. Because you only give me what you want. You limit me, control me, and forbid me to live my life. It's wrong, it shouldn't be like this…», — you'ld like to say it out loud. These words were already on the tip of your tongue, ready to burst into the air, but they remained buried deep in your throat when you humbly swallowed every objection and dissatisfaction.

— I'm sorry, brother…

His big palm on top of your head and the cold metal from the plate on Gepard's uniform pressing against your face made you feel so… uncomfortable for the first time.

That's why you don't want to go home right now, and you got off early on purpose so you wouldn't have to meet Gepard. You'ld like to share his warm feelings, but you can no longer deceive yourself. It burden you.

You wander among the exhibits of an empty museum, preparing to close, but you don't stop at anything, too immersed in your own thoughts. Even almost all the employees have already gone home. Quietly, calmly. You were not mistaken when you decided to choose this particular place to cool your head a little. But even here, for some reason, it seems to you as if your brother's gaze is following you at every step. You don't remember the last time you went out without him, because Gepard seems to be doing everything on purpose so that you don't even cross paths with your friends on the way home, spending your evenings in his company.

Why are you just now starting to realize how sick you are of his company? It must be terrible to even let the thought that you want your brother to disappear, but… wouldn't it be easier for you to breathe without him?

— Oh, isn't that my old friend's little sister? — a sweet melodious male voice breaks into the silence that presses on you, and at first you don't even understand if this person is addressing you, just briefly turning back, casting an incredulous glance at the stranger. The tall blue-haired man grins, clapping his hands before coming closer as soon as the bright green eyes notice that you have stopped. — Well, that's right! Y/N, yeah?

— Do we know each other?.. — you're frowning, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to look and sound confident, but your posture is as scared and constrained as your thoughts continue to swarm in your head.

— Oh, didn't my dear friend tell you about Sampo? — the theatrical man pretends to be sad, then breaks into a sly grin again. — I suppose it's never too late to introduce ourselves to each other. Although I already know your name, and you just heard Sampo's name… hmm, does that mean that we know each other now?

— P-probably… — you mumble softly, backing away slightly as the tall man bends over, carefully studying your face.

— This is the first time I've seen you not in the company of my friend.

— And I actually see you for the first time, — you smile crookedly, causing Sampo to respond with a soft laugh.

— Don't be shy, my dear friend! — oh, you're wondering why Gepard didn't tell you about this man. — So how can Sampo serve you?

— Huh?

— Oh, what should Sampo do?… The museum is closing soon, and I'm spending time with my new friend for the first time…

— Do you… work here? — you raise an eyebrow in disbelief, to which the man perks up, proudly resting his palm on his side.

— That's right, that's right! Sampo Koski is at your service! — it's unlikely that you'll find a common language with this person.

— May I ask how it happened? I'm sorry, but you don't really look like…

— Ah, it's a long story! — Sampo interrupts, grinning nervously and looking away. — You mean I don't look like a law-abiding citizen? How many times has Sampo heard this, and every time these words break my heart…

— N-no, I didn't mean to offend you, — you stretch out your hand to the man who dramatically clasped his forehead with his palm, but almost immediately pull it back.

— You're so sweet, unlike your brother. Although his indifference and callousness, of course, has its own special charm, — the man's facial expressions change like masks, and now he is smiling again, closing his eyes and leaning closer to your face. — So, I could leave the museum open for a while longer, and we could chat a little longer!

You wrap your arms around your own shoulders, warily meeting Sampo's gaze when he opens his eyes, and you are already opening your mouth to gently refuse the man, when suddenly, with a dull clap, someone's big palm lands on the shoulder of your new "friend".

Sampo straightens up instantly, turning around anxiously. The man's face instantly contorts into an awkward expression when the green eyes meet the cold, sharp gaze of the Captain, who furrowed his eyebrows in anger. You feel your heart jumping in your chest, and your fingers go numb as you convulsively squeeze the hem of your skirt, watching your brother's fist tremble, about to hit Sampo.

— Calm down, calm down, my friend, I was about to leave!

— Why are you with him? — for the first time, you hear the burning anger in your brother's voice when he addresses you, making you cringe in place as soon as the sharp gaze of his blue eyes pins you to the floor.

— I… We were just talking… — tears come to your eyes, and a sharp lump squeezes your throat, muffling your voice, but as soon as you see that Gepard is looking at the nervously grinning Sampo again, your body moves by itself, and you rush forward, convulsively grabbing your brother by the elbow. — I swear, he just came over to say that the museum will close soon! Nothing more!

— Ha ha ha… That's how it was, Sampo didn't want to inconvenience his new friend.…

— Friend? — the blue irises seem to be covered with an icy crust when Gepard squeezes Sampo's shoulder harder, ignoring your pathetic attempts to pull his hand away from the poor man, who now seems to get what he deserves.

— W-we're not friends, this is the first time I've seen him, Gepard, please! — tears slowly begin to roll down your cheeks, and your fingers press harder into the metal on your brother's glove, before he still seems to listen to your pleas, and lets go of Sampo, but still does not take his eyes off him.

— You'd better get as far away as possible, because as soon as I talk to my sister, you'll be next.

Sampo decides not to answer anything, so as not to inflame the atmosphere even more, and just nods briefly, walking behind your brother and turning to you one last time, folding his palms in front of his face and arching his eyebrows in a guilty apologetic expression before hurriedly leaving.

Silence. While you were here alone, this silence was alarming, but now it terrifies you to the point of chilling shivers running down your spine. You've never been afraid of your own brother like you are now. You didn't do anything wrong, you were even honest with him, but… for some reason, the feeling that you made an unforgivable mistake doesn't leave you, becoming more and more distinct as Gepard continues to remain silent, not even meeting your gaze, but just looking somewhere in the aside while you guiltily examine his angry face.

— Brother, I…

— I asked you, — Gepard interrupts, addressing you in a stern tone and finally turning his head, turning his icy gaze on you. — Do you need this? Is this the kind of life you want? So that this trash can just come up and talk to you? Although, I can see that you didn't even mind at all.

— No, it's not like that! I just came here to get some air, and he…

— To get some air? You didn't wait for me, — a big hand in a white glove painfully grabs your wrist, and tears come to your eyes with renewed vigor, blurring the image of your brother looming over you with complete disappointment in his gaze. — Why, Y/N?

— Because I'm tired! — you're choking out, stuttering and sniffing. — I'm not a child anymore, and you are… I can't take a step without you, you're watching me, acting like… — you stop, not daring to say what you were going to say, and Gepard bends even lower to your tear-stained face, staring intently into your reddened eyes.

— Like what? Finish it, Y/N.

— Like… — you inhale the air intermittently, then exhale it back just as jerkily before continuing, hastily trying to blink tears from your eyelashes so that you can see your brother's face as clearly as possible. — Like you're my boyfriend.

The man's lips tighten and the grip on your wrist loosens slightly as the blue eyes continue to stare at you without blinking. You really said that. You were afraid to even admit this thought, but these words slipped out of your mouth by themselves, finally voicing what had been bothering you all these years. Gepard has crossed some line that you didn't even know existed until you felt that his presence was making you suffocate. This has to stop. Now.

— I don't understand, is this a bad thing?

— Wh-what?..

— No one knows you better than I do, and they never will. I won't let that happen, — Gepard's eyebrows furrow, and his free hand settles on your waist, pulling you closer to his body. — Why do you want other men so much? What can they give you that I can't?

It's like a bad… bad, bad dream. The ringing in your ears drowns out Gepard's words, and your brother's arm falls limply from his elbow until he presses you against the wall with the painting. The grip on your wrist strengthens again when Gepard forcefully lifts and presses your hand against the cold concrete, pulling you out of your stupor and returning you back to the disgusting reality from which you are trying to fight off with your free palm, but it also suffers the same sad fate.

— Let me go! I don't understand what you're talking about.… We are a family! — you squirm weakly in Gepard's grip as he shackles your wrists above your head, freeing one hand to grab your throat with it. Not too much, but enough to obstruct your breathing.

— Exactly, Y/N, we are a family, — there seemed to be no trace of the sweet caring Gepard. A completely different person is looking at you now. Obsessed, violent, completely inaudible and not listening to what you're trying to tell him. — But you stopped appreciating what I do for you, you don't appreciate how much I value you.

— I appreciate it! But you're my brother, damn… Let me go, Gepard, please… — you start crying again, writhing in your brother's grip, still hoping that he just had a bad day, and if he sees your tears now, he will be the same again… And your pathetic hopes are justified when you feel like a gloved hand releases your neck, allowing you to take a full deep breath.

— I've been so stupid all this time when I thought you understood me. I thought you were old enough to make the right choice, but no, you are still the same child in the body of an adult who has never been punished for misconduct, so now you can afford to be naughty.

— Gepard?.. — you call out to your brother almost in a whisper, anxiously trying to look into his eyes, but his gaze is fixed somewhere down while he hurriedly pulls the belt out of his trousers.

— If you haven't managed to grow up, then, as an older brother, I'm obliged to raise you, — after these words, you don't even have time to open your lips to answer anything, at least something to Gepard, before you are forcibly turned around and pressed face to the wall, and your hands are painfully wrung behind your back tearing a plaintive cry out of his strangled throat.

— Gepard! Brother, I beg you… that's enough, let's go home! Forgive me!

He's not listening. You can't see his face, but you can feel the weight of his gaze on your own body as he lifts up your skirt and casually pulls your underwear down your legs.

— Forgive you? I'm not mad at you, Y/N, — even his voice is cold, sending uncontrollable shivers through my skin. Gepard is silent for a moment, but the back of your head is squeezed by some unpleasant premonition, before your ass is struck by an unbearably burning pain from the whiplash of the belt. The air is knocked out of your clenched lungs, and your nails reflexively dug into your own palms when the walls of the museum heard your heart-rending scream.

— G-Gepard! Please!.. — you scream when you feel some movement behind your back, realizing that your brother swung again, after which another portion of pain stung your flesh.

— I'm just disappointed...

The man mumbles indifferently, ignoring your attempts to escape and hoarse screams, interrupted by coughing when you start choking on your own tears and saliva. And then Gepard strikes again.

— And I have to correct my own mistake.

Blue eyes coldly watch as your flesh turns red, and the stripes from the belt swell on your skin, but Gepard strikes again, and then again, without losing sight of a single shudder of your poor body. You've always been a defenseless little sister to him, whom Gepard so desperately wanted to protect. For himself.

How can you get to someone else? He raised you, he gave you a love that no one in this world is capable of giving you, he was there for you, sharing joys and sorrows with you. You have to choose him. He doesn't accept any other outcome.

The last blow turned out to be more painful than all the previous ones, as if all the disappointment and anger that you awakened in Gepard were now imprinted on your body with pulsating bruises and burning pain, pulling more and more tears from your squeezed eyes.

— I didn't want to hurt you, Y/N … — Gepard says with a barely perceptible note of sadness in his voice, bowing his head and pressing his forehead to the top of your head. — But otherwise you'll slip away from me… I can't let that happen.

You just sniffle and sob softly, pressing your face against the wall, feeling the blood rise to the places where Gepard's fingers continue to press into the skin of your wrists with force. Has he always been like this? Your brother couldn't have changed in a few miserable minutes. You just didn't notice, did you? You didn't notice how obsessed he was with you.

— I should have punished you, but… let me make it up to you and show you that I can be more than just a brother to you.

You barely catch your brother's words because of the ringing that continues to crash into your ears, but for some reason his gentle, guilty tone involuntarily tightened your stomach and nausea rose in your throat, as if now you missed the words that you should have heard, but you don't want to listen so much. You hear the metal belt buckle hitting the floor of the museum, catch the muffled rustle of clothes, feel Gepard's warm palm making its way down your stomach and settling between your legs, and reflexively squeeze your hips, opening your eyes in fright.

— N-no, what are you…?

— Relax, Y/N. I know you, I know what you like… — the rough pads of your fingers press on the dry clitoris, sending an unpleasant wave of pleasure through your body. — If you think there's something I can't help you with, then that's not the case. If you need a lover, I'll be him for you, — Gepard's lips press against your hair, and his fingers gently massage the treacherously trembling lump, slowly sliding down between the folds until your brother feels the sparsely released moisture, exhaling contentedly and returning back to the clitoris. — See? Your body reacts to me, doesn't that prove that I'm not just a brother to you?

— Stop it, please… I can't… — you break into sobs, clenching your teeth and closing your eyes in resignation, feeling something hot and hard pushing insistently between your closed thighs. — Please, at least not here…

— Are you afraid that someone will hear us? I sent Eris home, we're alone. Unless your new friend decided to stay and watch.

— I… I'm a virgin, brother, please… — even a whisper sounds so hoarse, coming off your tongue after screams tearing at your throat, but you still find the strength to speak, without losing hope that this will stop Gepard.

— I know. The fact that I'm going to be your first man should finally make you look at me differently, shouldn't it?

— I… don't know… Ng-h! — you cry out in pain as Gepards's hips press against your bruised bottom and his cock penetrates between your thighs before sliding back out, now resting against your narrow entrance.

— It's okay, just trust me, — Gepard says soothingly, gently but persistently pressing on your closed thighs with his knee, effortlessly forcing them apart.

Resilient hot flesh slowly enters the vagina, stretching the virgin walls, and your body is hit by a new, unknown pain. It's too big. You feel your walls bursting at the seams around his cock, indifferently continuing to make its way deep into the vagina, accompanied by your stifled sobs and exhausted screams. The incessant movements of your brother's fingers massaging the clitoris slightly dampen the painful sensations of the first penetration, but this is still not enough.

Gepard's hot breath burns your scalp when it finally enters you completely, stopping for a few seconds, giving you time to get used to it. As if a few measly moments would be enough to get used to the idea of your own brother's cock inside you, whose hands never loosened their grip, holding your wrists firmly against your back.

— Just be patient for a while. I promise this pain will go away, don't you believe me?

You're not answering. Impotence is so disgusting that you feel like you're about to throw up, and maybe Gepard would even stop if it turned you inside out, but it doesn't happen. Your head is so heavy, and even behind your closed eyelids you can feel everything spinning uncontrollably. You are afraid to open your eyes, afraid to believe that what is happening now is real.

But no matter how hard you try to deny it, everything is happening for real. Gepard really carefully kisses the top of your head, really pulls out his cock from your insides, leaving only the head bleeding from the ejaculate in the vagina, then slowly filling you again, and his fingers really massage your clitoris, causing treacherous arousal, from which you are overcome with even greater nausea.

Why are you pleased? Because he's your brother? No, that's not right. You should hate him, should hate yourself for your body not obeying, enjoying the even still slightly painful languid thrusts.

But you… enjoy it.

Every time when Gepard comes out of you, tiny drops of blood seep out, mixed with the transparent juices of treacherous arousal, trickling down your thighs. You hear your brother's voice murmuring reassuringly into your hair, but you can't make out a word, catching only the nasty ringing that has settled in the depths of your ears.

You're so narrow inside, so warm and pleasant, just like Gepard imagined. He's a little embarrassed to admit even to himself that he did sometimes imagine your first sex when he took a shower with you. Your body has changed so much, you have become such a beauty, isn't it natural that he was aroused by your naked body?

And now it belongs to him.

Your brother feels so good that he inevitably becomes greedy, speeding up the pace, just assuming that now you won't be hurt anymore. This bliss that he is experiencing now is so alluring and seductive, he just can't help himself. Of course, Gepard would like this to happen in a more intimate setting, under more pleasant circumstances, but the anger that you made him feel while talking to Sampo has been reborn into this perverted desire that he cannot control.

Just once… Just once, won't you let your brother show weakness?

— No one… I won't let anyone talk to you, see you, touch you anymore… — thoughts break out of Gepard's tongue by themselves, and he doesn't even notice how his thrusts have become rougher, and his groin began to slash into your mutilated ass.

You're so hot, it's so hard to breathe, but what scares you even more is the strangely growing feeling in your lower abdomen. You don't know what it is, but for some reason you are sure that you should not give in to it, you should resist. However, it still wins up over and over again, spreading in scalding waves under the skin.

Your pulse vibrates so clearly under the pads of Gepard's fingers, and something comes out of your strangled throat that sounds more and more like the moans he dreamed of. It's too much, you're too good, too perfect. He can cum inside you, won't you mind? If suddenly you can get pregnant from him… How wonderful your children will be, can you imagine?

A few more careless thrusts, a few rough presses on your clitoris, and your brother feels you clench even tighter around his cock, and your back arches even under the pressure of his hand.

— That's it… Feel it, Y/N... Remember that only I can give you such pleasure… — a restrained moan, more like a growl, escapes from the man's throat, and the last ruthless thrust makes your chest painfully crash into the wall.

Your insides feel numb, but you still feel something viscous filling you when your brother's cock freezes and now pulsates so clearly in the spasming walls.

— You're mine… Do you hear it, Y/N? You belong only to me… — Gepard whispers to you as the last drops of sperm flow out of the urethra of his cock. — I'll never leave you. I'll never betray you. Just don't… don't try to replace me anymore.

You open your eyelids slightly, watching the tears fall from your trembling eyelashes and hit the floor under your feet.

If this isn't a nightmare that looks so disgustingly like reality, then what is?..

[rin-fukuroi]

Where was this art when i wrote about biker Blade? It's perfect (*♡∀♡)

Buh-Biker Blade?11!!

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 [𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

If you want to support me and read my other works that won't be on Tumblr, you can always do it on my Boosty~

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: yandere!Sunday x fem!reader

Warnings: a bit of obsession and Sunday is the obvious stalker here, but no more triggers.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. Loluet - I beg you

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

It's so mean to eavesdrop on your thoughts*, but Sunday just can't stop.

You think he's pretty cute when he gives you another gift. You think his appearance is quite attractive for your taste. You think that the smell coming from Sunday, when he accepts your grateful embrace, is so exquisite, to match a man of his position. You think you'd probably feel safe near him.

You think Sunday is a little intrusive. You think he probably has a lot of fans, because he's so handsome. You think that the attention of a man with such a high position on Penacony is burdensome, because you are clearly not his match, so why does he continue to behave as if he is in love with you? You think that you are anxious near him, even though you cannot find any explanation for this feeling that suddenly arises in his presence.

Your thoughts warm Sunday's soul, and they also wound him to a nagging pain in his chest.

He really would like to stop doing this, but he's ready to give you the whole world. Even the dreams in which you are so happy, he'll bring that to life, if you only wish. It's probably corny to mentally promise a star from the sky just for you, but Sunday's ready to make the sky itself fall at your feet if this is the price for your smile. But you don't want any of this. You don't want him.

Why?

It's really so damn hard for Sunday. Helplessness, such disgusting helplessness torments him day by day, while he listens to your voice all day long, wanting to hear what you remember about him. But, as soon as the farewell separates the two of you, such useless thoughts fill your head, in which he has no place. And it's cruel. You're so cruel, but Sunday can't be mad at you.

How pathetic he must look, covering his own face with wings to hide the way his cheeks turn red and the corners of his lips lift in a gentle smile at the mere memory of how your honey voice pronounces his name. But this is not enough. Why not color your voice with brighter colors? Maybe… Red notes that give your tone of adoration and passion? You'll want him, and you'll get him if you just call. Playful pink notes will desire him with airy tenderness. Oh, how beautifully his name will shimmer on your tongue.

«It seems like I've been on Penacony for so long… It's worth coming home»

No, no, honey. Why go back to a place where he's not?

«He's looking at me so strangely again, as if he can read my mind…»

You have a great intuition, that's commendable. Sunday admires you even when his honor as a man and family member is at stake.

«Will Sunday be upset if he finds out that I'm leaving this place soon? Probably not»

Oh, darling, where did you get such thoughts in your lovely head? You're breaking Sunday's heart. How can he let you go? Dreams will lose their magic without you, this beautiful little world will lose light without your smile, the whole universe will lose its voice without the sound of your laughter.

«I guess I should just thank him for everything»

Don't mention it. Sunday would do anything for you. Tell him to rip the heart out of his chest, and he will present you with a bloody pulsating muscle in his palm.

— Y/N, — again this charming smile adorns the already perfect face of a man when he stretches out his hand bending over your figure. — Your hair is disheveled.

He can touch your hair, right? Of course he can. He hears a voice in your head, and you want the same thing, you just can't admit it even to yourself. It's an attraction between you and him… You have to feel it the same way Sunday feels it. He'll help you again, he just need to tweak your memories a little. You'll share with him all the feelings that Sunday experienced all the time spent with you. Desire him, love him, be there for him. That's all he can ask of you. It only takes his palm to touch your cheek…

The heat penetrates into the pores, permeates the skin, flows into the veins, spreading throughout the body until it captures the mind with rainbow waves blurring the eyes. And only the image of Sunday is so clear. You look into golden eyes that meet you with piercing gaze, and you see in them so much pain, torment, from which an unpleasant bitterness knits on the tongue. And then the sweetness. A cloying but airy sweetness. Every piece of sugar that gets into your mouth melts on your tongue, and for some reason an unfamiliar taste evokes so many memories that you seemed to be cruelly deprived of, and now they have returned to you, responding with a tremor in your chest.

«Y/N… listen to my voice»

You know him. This tenderness with which a man pronounces your name is so painfully familiar.

«You're happy here next to me, Y/N»

He's right, but why do his words seem so wrong to you…

«Touch me, Y/N, put your hand on my chest and feel my heart pounding. Just like yours… Aren't we made for each other?»

Of course. Of course, you're made. You can feel it. Soft pulsations touch the fingertips, beating off a sweet melody, so lulling and causing an irresistible desire… But what do you want?

«You're mine, Y/N. And I'm yours, forever»

Exactly. And how could you forget?..

It is so warm and cozy, as if beloved hands are pressing you to your heart, rocking you to an alluring lullaby, involving you in a sweet dream. And it doesn't matter at all if this dream is viscous and sticky, like a spider's web woven just for you. He'll take care of you if you just give up.

— That's better, isn't it?

«Has Sunday always been so… beautiful?» — what kind of strange thoughts are going through your head? Of course, always. The hours spent remembering how pleasant his wings are to the touch, how soft his skin is under your fingers, how pleasant the sound of your name escaping from his lips is, flash before your eyes, like a living reminder of the truth that lurks somewhere so deep, but lying on the surface, if you only dare say it.

You love him. You love him with all your heart, so long ago and so unconditionally that you feel ashamed that you dared to doubt the perfection of his face, the very sight of which is enough to make a muscle in your chest tremble.

The man notices your slight confusion, and grins melodiously.

— I mean the hair, — long eyelashes hang over the irises, shimmering with gold, when Sunday tilts his head to one side, not taking his eyes off you and continuing to smile charmingly.

— Oh, yes … thank you, — you awkwardly look away, and your cheeks involuntarily blush. — You know, I wanted to ask you something.…

The gold is covered with an icy crust, sharp and tingling skin, over which Sunday's gaze slides while you shift from foot to foot, trying to find words.

— Can I… stay here? — you hesitantly look up at the man with an innocent look, quietly uttering the last words. — With you…

«If only he didn't say no… I won't survive this…»

Oh, you're so lovely. Charming, charming, charming.

The ice is cracking, defeated by the vibrations of your sweet voice, which appeals so imploringly to Sunday. Isn't this happiness?

The tips of elegant long gloved fingers rest on your chin, lifting your head before a kiss touches your lips. So needy, oozing with obsession and love, with insane awe, which now seem so familiar to you, as if these feelings were always somewhere nearby, but burst into your heart only now, blooming like forget-me-nots somewhere deep in your chest.

«Don't ever ask again… My love», — it was never said out loud, but you managed to hear Sunday's velvety voice shamelessly invading your consciousness while his lips greedily but slowly devour yours. And you don't mind at all.

Your thoughts, one way or another, from now on will be filled only with him.

*Sunday is a representative of the Halovian species, one of the features of which is reading the thoughts of others, however, the ability to rewrite memories and, in principle, somehow influence the consciousness of another living being is not It is one of the abilities of this species. This ability of Sunday in this work is based on a completely plausible theory that he, like his sister, are Emanators of the Aeon of Harmony, because if we recall our first meeting with Family in the World of Dreams, then we can see how Robin is doing something similar, helping us with the "side effects" of the first immersion in a dream.

[rin-fukuroi]

New NSFW posts on Boosty~

Hey, guys!

I have a lot of large works that will take quite a while to translate, so i thought why not make a poll for you to choose what you'd like to read on a subscription? If you're interested, i'll get to it soon, but in the meantime there are two more small posts available on Boosty with Alhaitham and Dr Ratio's sweet legs (✧ω✧)

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 [𝐋𝐮𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐚]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

If you want to support me and read my other works that won't be on Tumblr, you can always do it on my Boosty~

Part 2

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: uncle!Luocha x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, modern AU, sexual tension, a hint of incest.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. Ado - Tot Musica

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

— Behave yourself and obey your uncle!

— You should thank him that we don't have to spend money on your check-ups!

You were never very healthy as a child, so you heard this from your mother quite often. Perhaps it must have been a shame that your parents were economising on your health, but you never minded your uncle's company. Luocha is a rather nice man, who accompanied you on your journey to adulthood from an early age, even when he was still just a medical student himself, but still found time to look after you.

Now you remember those times with some warmth, but also with a heavy weight on your heart. The pressure your parents put on you was alleviated by Luocha's care and kindness, but somehow you still felt indebted to your uncle. He helps you for free, sometimes even giving you the medicine you need without asking for anything in return. Looking at the relationships in the families of your friends and acquaintances, you began to come to the conclusion that mutual help among relatives — this is quite normal, but still couldn't help but feel gratitude and desire to do something for Luocha when you get on your feet.

And now you are grown up, independent, and your health problems don't bother you too much, which, of course, is the merit of a marvellous doctor, your uncle, whom you decided to visit after a couple of years, during which you have not seen him once. You feel guilty, because he must have been worried about you, but you decide to call him. Luocha's voice sounded as happy and gentle as it always did when he spoke to you, and he was happy to meet you. You'd never been to his house before, mostly meeting your uncle at his workplace, but this time he'd insisted that you drop by so he could make sure you were okay.

That's so nice of him.

— Oh, Y/N, come in, — Luocha smiles softly, inviting you in.

You catch yourself stopping to stare at his long straw hair falling down over his black turtleneck. He's always worn his hair long, but now it seems to be even shinier and sleeker. As a child you wondered what they felt like, but somehow it felt awkward to just touch him without asking.

— I hope I'm not distracting you too much. You'd probably like to rest after your shift at the hospital, — you chuckled awkwardly, letting Luocha take your coat off.

— If it's about seeing my favourite niece, how can that distract me? — as soon as your uncle leaves your coat on the coat rack, he immediately returns to you, wrapping his palms around your waist and pulling you to him for a hug.

You're used to Luocha being quite tactile, though usually his touching you was in a different setting, but you don't pay it much mind, smiling and lifting up on your toes to wrap your arms around the man's neck.

— It's been so long, you've grown so much, — the blond man pulls back to get a better look at you from his height. The fact that his arms are still around your waist makes you slightly uncomfortable, and you look away awkwardly, letting go of your uncle's neck. As if reading your thoughts, Luocha lets you go, instead resting his palm on your back, guiding you towards the living room. — Come, I'll make some tea for us.

Your uncle's house is quite cosy. The light-coloured walls and minimalist interior make it feel comfortable and even inexplicably warm. It's like what you feel when you're next to Luocha himself. You sit down carefully on the soft couch opposite the coffee table, turning your head and glancing around the bookcases. You never even knew he was into reading, though thinking about it now, it seems logical. Probably all those books on medicine.

From the direction of the kitchen comes the sound of Luocha stirring sugar in mugs before you catch his footsteps approaching you from behind.

— Well, tell me, what have you been up to all these years? — your uncle places a saucer in front of you, followed by a mug of steaming brew, the herbal aroma of which has been wafting to you since he entered the room. Luocha places the second mug not far from yours and sits down next to you.

— Oh, I… I had a bit of a falling out with my mother, so I just moved away from her.

— That's how, — the smile fades from the blond man's lips as he reaches for his mug, taking a small sip. — Your mother has always been a difficult person. Truth be told, I'd move away from her myself as soon as possible if I were you.

Your eyes round slightly as you turn your head briefly to look at your uncle, whose lips stretch back into an awkward smile.

— Oh, I'm sorry, it must be weird to say something like that about my own sister?

— N-no, no, no, she's really awful… — you giggle nervously before taking a sip from your mug. The fresh minty notes tingle your receptors, and it's as if you're transported back to years ago, when Luocha used to make the exact same tea for you earlier, when you stayed at the hospital for lunch after your appointments.

Luocha grins awkwardly.

— How is your health?

— Much better already. I had a good doctor!

The man presses his palm to his chest, bowing his head slightly in a gesture of thanks.

— Glad to hear it. But still, will you let me examine you? — you look away from Luocha, setting the cup carefully on the table. — I want to make sure your health really isn't in any danger, — the blond man continues, squeezing your shoulder gently.

— It's really okay, uncle, you don't have to be…

— I'm just worried about you, Y/N, — the man's long fingers gently massage your skin through the fabric of your clothes. — Oh, are you embarrassed that we're not in a hospital? I can put on a dressing gown if it makes you feel more comfortable.

— N-no! It's fine, — you smile crookedly, your shoulder flinching involuntarily as you rise from your spot on the couch.

Luocha might be right. You've never been to his house, so you've generally never given much thought to the fact that he's a man, seeing him solely as a doctor, but now you're somehow so uncomfortable unbuttoning your shirt buttons in front of him. The blood rushes to your cheeks, tingling your skin, and you turn away slightly from the gaze of your uncle, who continues to sit on the couch, waiting. You don't understand why he always asked you to take off your clothes, since your illness hardly shows up outwardly, but Luocha insisted every time he did that your skin could tell you something about your condition, so you preferred not to argue, just following his instructions as your mother had told you to. Your shirt slips off your shoulders, and you fold the thing neatly on the armrest of the couch, meeting Luocha's gaze again, as if silently asking if you should continue, but he only remains silent and fades into his classic unreadable smile. So it is necessary.

You grudgingly unbutton your jeans, slowly pulling the tight fabric down your legs, sending them to the shirt on the couch. You've never experienced something like this before. Stripping down to your underwear in front of a man… You've always been too busy with your studies and more pressing issues to even think about relationships, so this time is the first time in your life you've ever allowed yourself something like this. The only thing that calms your excitement a little is the fact that you've done this before, completely disregarding the fact that your uncle is a man. So you should continue to turn a blind eye to it now.

— Hm-m, — Luocha stands up from the couch, towering over you before placing her palms on your shoulders, slowly sliding down. — Your skin is very soft, Y/N, — for some reason, your stomach clenches after those words, and your eyes move upwards anxiously, meeting your uncle's relaxed gaze. — That's already a good sign.

— I guess… — you answer quietly, feeling an uncomfortable shiver run down your spine as Luocha's hands move to your waist, squeezing your sides gently.

— You were so skinny the last time I saw you, and now look at you… — the man murmurs, groping your tense belly with his fingertips. — A healthy, rounded shape. That pleases me as your doctor.

— Huh, are you implying that I've gained weight?

— No, not at all. You've just grown so much, your body has changed. For example… — his large palms move up to your breasts, settling on the bottoms of your bra cups. — Your breasts have gotten bigger. May I…?

You blush, swallowing nervously, but somehow you nod anyway, unconsciously consenting to your uncle undoing the clasp of your bra, letting it fall carelessly to the floor beneath your feet. Your shoulders tightened reflexively as a chill ran under your skin, but you stopped yourself from shamefully covering your breasts with your hands, instead turning your head sideways. Luocha casts a brief glance at your embarrassed face, choosing to simply ignore it before returning his palms to your now naked breasts again.

A strange heat grips your body as your uncle's long, warm fingers gently grope the firm flesh. What's the matter? Why do you feel so uncomfortable? It's still your uncle, he just wants to help, he's worried about you, then why is that?

— Mm, lymph nodes are fine, — Luocha murmured thoughtfully, running his fingertips gently along the underside of your chest. — You really are all grown up now, Y/N, — the blond suddenly announces, cupping one of his hands around your chin, gently turning your head back to meet your gaze. — And such a beautiful one at that.

You just stare at your uncle, eyes wide, unable to utter a word because of the prickly lump lodged in the middle of your throat. His perpetually calm, velvet voice sounds so sickeningly sweet that you can almost feel the bile coming up your oesophagus.

— You're still a virgin, aren't you, Y/N? — golden long strands slip off Luocha's shoulder as he tilts his head to the side, squinting his lettuce eyes slightly.

— I… Why do you need to know that? — you ask in a shaky voice. He's so close. Why is he so close? You only now realise that your breasts are almost touching his belly, but your legs are so heavy, unable to move your body.

— Becoming sexually active can affect your body in many different ways. To be sure that your condition is stable, we need to understand which symptoms are related to your condition and which ones can be taken out of the equation, — your uncle replies calmly, running his palm down from your chest to your lower abdomen.

— I'll definitely see a gynaecologist when I have some free time, if necessary…

— Oh, that won't be necessary! I can do the exam myself.

It's so stuffy. Even when you still had your clothes on, you weren't as hot as you are now, with your uncle's fingertips clinging to the waistband of your knickers. For as long as you could remember, Luocha had always evoked nothing but silent admiration in you. There didn't seem to be a single thing in the whole world that your well-read and educated uncle didn't know about, ready to help you with any problem, but now it feels really wrong.

— You're so tense, Y/N, — Luocha whispers, running her other palm down from your chin to the curve of your neck. — All the stress built up from living with your mother must be making itself felt one way or another… It saddens me to the core. I don't want your condition to get worse again one day.

The lace fabric is gently pulled back before travelling lower down your thigh. No, no, no, no, no, no. This isn't right. Your lungs constrict and drops of sweat protrude on your forehead. You grit your teeth, biting your tongue painfully, and the pain seems to snap you out of your disgusting trance, allowing you to gather the resolve to grab Luocha's wrist.

— Stop it! — you shout hysterically, even to yourself. Your voice trembles as if you're about to cry.

Your eyes are wide open and shiny with tears, and your uncle freezes, just as you did, without another word. The silence that hangs between the two of you is so intense that you can almost feel it with your skin covered in unpleasant goosebumps. Your mind goes blank in the blink of an eye, and the rush of blood rushing into your ears makes Luocha's face spin before your eyes, but you pull yourself together, yanking your uncle's hand away sharply and away from his touch on your neck. It all happened so fast that you don't even notice that you've already hastily pulled your jeans back up your legs and carelessly slipped your shirt over your shoulders.

— Y/N, I'm sorry, did I do something to offend you? — Luocha asks worriedly, not daring to touch you again as you frantically try to slip your arms through your sleeves, not even bothering to put your bra on.

— I… I should go now… — is the only and last thing you muttered quietly, hastily buttoning a couple of buttons of your shirt down the middle.

Your uncle wanted to say something back to you, having already opened his lips, but closed them back as you hurriedly ran out into the corridor, frantically searching with your eyes where you left your shoes and where Luocha hung your coat.

For a few seconds Luocha just stands there in the living room, staring doomedly at his feet, until he suddenly decides to run after you when he hears you fiddling nervously with the lock of his door.

— Y/N, wait! — the blond shouts after you, making your hand freeze over the knob. — You're living alone now, aren't you?

For some reason, that question makes your stomach cramp up again, but you decide to answer.

— Yes.

Your uncle's lips stretch back into his usual charming smile.

— Then I'll be sure to come by sometime to check up on you. You won't mind, will you?

The disgusting memory of the last time Luocha touched you flashes through your mind again, and your hand reflexively presses the knob before you hurriedly disappear out the door, leaving your uncle's question unanswered.

«Surely you won't mind, Y/N… You just need time», — the blond thought to himself, sighing doomfully before returning to the living room once more.

The undrinkable tea is still on the table. But that wasn't the only reminder of you left in Luocha's house after you left. The sharp gaze of green eyes clung to your bra, which was still lying on the floor. The man rests a bent index finger against his lips for a moment, as if contemplating something, before he walks over to the abandoned item, gently lifting it from the wooden floorboards. Bringing the lacy black cloth up to his nose, your uncle could clearly smell your natural scent, tainted by the subtle fragrance of shower gel and perfume.

You were so excited running away from his house. Luocha hopes you won't notice you're missing for a while.

[rin-fukuroi]

New posts on Boosty

Hi! ( ´ ω ` )ノﾞ

I was a little sick, so I still did't have the time and opportunity to add new works on Tumblr and Boosty, but I'm gradually trying to replenish the archive of posts here and there, so recently two small posts became available by subscription, and in the near future I'll take on the translation of long works for Boosty~

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 [𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: dom!Blade x sub!fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, unhealthy relationships, BDSM dynamics, detailed descriptions of bloody wounds, references to: suffocation, spanking, loss of virginity, masturbation, physical violence.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. Architects - burn down my house

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

Happy Valentine's Day! I hope you have or will definitely have someone with whom you can be crazy together~

art: @tiredceles_

Being obsessed with someone is so wrong and scary, but who decided that it really is?

To depend on a person so much that you deprive yourself of sleep waiting for the cherished rumble of the door to be heard in the corridor and you'll hear footsteps that make your heart ready to burst your chest and jump out. To devote yourself only to him so much that you are ready to stop breathing as soon as he give you an order. To be ready to betray and destroy the whole world for him, if necessary.

Is there anything wrong with that?

You feel so elated and indescribably happy when Blade says your name. It's like all those days, months, years that you spent with him didn't exist at all. You always look at him as if you've met him for the first time. A deity that you are ready to worship and follow his will for the rest of your days. You feel so wanted and loved when Blade touches you. It's like there's only you and him in the whole world, trapped in your bubble, cut off from everything around you. Only his sharp, overwhelming gaze, only the cool breath that blows over your face as he leans over you, teasingly touching his lips to yours, but never leaving a kiss on them. Only the metallic smell of blood that exudes from Blade's clothes and pale porcelain skin. You love all this so much, so why then should your affection be labeled wrong?

You like the fact that Blade keeps you locked up. It's like you're his treasure, which only his hand can touch, and only his scarlet flaming eyes can see. You like that sometimes Blade is rude to you. His possessive words and addresses, reminding you of your place, are always so exciting that you even caught yourself periodically pissing Blade off just so that he would punish you. After all, punishment always means that he will touch your body.

He can squeeze your throat so hard that you almost immediately lose consciousness, clinging so desperately to reality to see his face transformed into pleasure at the sight of you pitifully gasping for air with your lips. But you never show that you like it, even though Blade probably knows. He can slap you in the face, leaving a burning red mark from his big palm on your cheek, but all you want after that is to lock yourself in your room so that you can touch this possessive mark before it takes on the shade of your skin again. Blade can flog you. At first, he was amused by beating your soft flesh with his hands, but once he heard a satisfied moan escape from your chest, he decided that this was probably not enough to make you obey. And since then, your buttocks are decorated with long bloody stripes, which are left by a leather whip that ruthlessly collides with delicate skin dozens of times, but you never ask Blade to stop.

You liked his hand better, but these painful sensations that stay with you for many days… If these terrible wounds disfiguring your body are left by him, you don't mind. You even want more.

You're getting so greedy that even you're embarrassed by how many times you've imagined Blade kissing you. No matter how much you love the pain he causes you, sometimes all you want is just to feel wanted. And he skillfully uses it, driving you crazy with just a touch to your bare thigh or shoulder, after which, Blade knows, you get wet as quickly as you start fidgeting on his lap.

In fact, he wants to fuck you, but watching you suffer day by day, really trying not to touch yourself even in those moments when he is not at home, is much more exciting. Blade likes the idea that one day he'll take pity on you and give you what you so desperately want. How many times will you cum your first time? Oh, Blade's sure that the first time will be when he tells you that he'll finally take your virginity, as you dreamed.

He knows that you belong to him.

Not because he said so, you want it yourself. If not Blade, then what else can your thoughts be occupied with? You'll never leave him and you'll never betray him, just like an obedient, devoted dog who happily wags his tail at the sight of his master returning home.

Blade is cruel, cold-blooded. Mad. But you're mad too, aren't you?

It's so sweet that you think Blade doesn't notice how you hold his shirts to your face, savoring his scent before bitterly sending his clothes to the laundry. It's so cute that you hide his bloody bandages under your pillow, burying your nose in them every time before going to bed when he leaves you alone, not letting you into his bedroom. But even more charming is the way your face shines with undisguised happiness when Blade lets you sleep with him. He knows how you watch him until sleep gets the better of you, because he himself never really falls asleep before he hears you start to snore softly on the next pillow. Blade always opens his eyes, taking a short look at your figure, frozen in the same position in which you looked at his long hair scattered on the pillow, and eyelashes slightly trembling on pale cheeks.

So relaxed, devoted. Naive.

He could kill you at any moment, but you sleep next to Blade as if his bed is the safest place in the universe. Or as if you're willing to let him do whatever he wants.

— Come here, — Blade's deep voice is so dark and cold, even when he speaks to you, standing in the doorway of the living room and watching the viscous scarlet drops trickle from the tips of his long fingers onto the carpet. But you like the sound of his voice even like that.

Ah, that sweet shiver goes through your legs again, as it always does when Blade lets you get closer. He needs you today, he wants to see you. You are so happy that you can barely contain the joyful squeal that is stuck deep in your throat, while slowly, trying not to break into a run, you approach the chair. Your gaze lingers on the tangled bandages on the table for just a second before switching to Blade himself. His shirt is open, revealing a bandaged voluminous chest and a seductive torso peeking out from under white patches. The man is bent over, leaning on his own widely spread knees, and your eyes involuntarily stop at the muscular thighs in black trousers, the very sight of which makes the blood rush to your cheeks.

How much you would like to at least admire Blade's perfect body for a longer time, as if it was created by the very Deity of Beauty, but you obediently cover one of your palms with the other, slightly bowing your head before looking into the flaming bloody eyes.

— Sir… — you hesitantly almost whisper, looking away in embarrassment.

— You just like looking at me, don't you? — Blade grins crookedly, almost burning through your head with his piercing, sharp gaze. — But I see that you want to ask for something.

— If you'll excuse me, can I… — you blush even more, glancing at the man's bloody palm. — Can I help you?

For a moment, the silence that hangs between both of you is interrupted by Blade's sharp short exhale. You notice how he stretches his hand a little further along his knee, and you enthusiastically meet Blade's indifferent gaze, not saying a word. But there is no need for that.

You obediently hold the hem of your short skirt before kneeling in front of the man's outstretched palm, gently wrapping your trembling fingers around the cut wrist. Your fingers are instantly stained with blood, which doesn't stop oozing from deep cuts, which you carefully cover with your miniature palm before rising from the floor to reach your lips to the tips of your fingers, from which heavy red drops fall. Your lips slowly open, and the eyes rush to Blade's face in search of at least the slightest hint of displeasure. But he just watches in silence as you stick out your tongue, pressing a slippery muscle against his index finger before plunging the bloody phalanges into your mouth. You lick his finger so greedily, as if you don't feel that heavy metallic taste on your tongue, without taking your eyes off Blade's eyes, enjoying the show you're putting on. Burgundy viscous drops run down your lips as soon as you turn your attention to your middle finger, plunging it deep into the warmth of your mouth.

Every drop of blood is swallowed by you with such pleasure, as if you are drinking magnificent wine, unable to stop until it fills you to the last drop. These are all the pieces of Blade that can continue to live inside you. Isn't this wonderful, isn't this the highest degree of manifestation of your love and devotion that you can show to Blade?

— You make me sick, Y/N, — Blade grins, grabbing your chin with the tips of his free hand and forcing you to look up from your spontaneous meal.

You awkwardly look away before looking back into the iridescent, like molten metal, scarlet irises.

— Don't you like it, sir?

— You know what happens when you do something I don't like, — the man frowns, leaning closer to your face. — Are you really willing to do anything for me, huh?

— Yes, — you answer immediately, looking at Blade with eyes full of pure devotion and adoration. — I'll do whatever you say.

— If one day I get tired of you, — cold breath caresses the skin of your face as Blade slowly opens his mouth to lick the remaining drops of blood in the corner of your lips with his tongue before looking at you again. — Will you die for me?

Your heart felt as if it was being squeezed by a ghostly steel grip, driving sharp claws deep into the throbbing muscle.

— It's even more than anything I can only dream of.

A gentle smile touches your lips, and you lean towards the touch of long gloved fingers, dreamily closing your eyes.

— You're crazy, Y/N, — Blade's lips stretch, revealing a snow-white grin.

You're the only one who can share his madness with him. And this is the truth.

[rin-fukuroi]

Important news

Guys, I'ld like to tell you that I still have a lot of works that I don't publish on Tumblr, since they are all available to russian-speaking users by subscription to Boosty, but now I have created a separate Boosty specifically for you and will gradually replenish it with various large works and drabbles, so, if you have a desire to support me financially and read my other works, then I'll be glad to see you here! You can already read the full version of my latest work with Aventurine there.

Hug everyone and wish you a good day!╰(*´︶`*)╯

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 [𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: Aventurine x dealer!fem!reader

Warnings: gambling, sexual tension.

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq I'm just starting my blog on Boosty, but I'll be glad if you support me with a subscription and read the full NSFW version of this work there. Soon there will be other works that will not be published on Tumblr.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. VIVIZ — MANIAC

You have long heard from other casino employees about a certain visitor, which comes here quite often, but you have never been lucky enough to meet him until today. The girls sighed languidly, referring to him as a handsome man, preparing to serve him the best drink, for which he would pay generously, and the men working in security only irritably noted that if he visited the institution today, they would only have more work. Then you didn't pay any attention to their words until one of the bar staff squealed with delight, energetically pointing at the blond man who entered the hall.

A dazzling smile, a light gait, but a sly look hidden behind gold glasses, gliding across the tables and the employees standing behind them before playfully sparkling violet-blue eyes rest on you. Your back straightens reflexively, and your fingers wrap around the back of your hand, and you nod in greeting when several men, led by a blond man, approach your poker table. You have been working in the field of gambling for several years, so you can easily notice expensive watches, chains and rings on his hands and a long earring in the ear of an elegant man in a hat, dressed in a black jacket with a fur collar, a turquoise shirt with a small but provocative neckline on the chest and white trousers with patent leather shoes. In total, all the clothes and trinkets of this person can be compared to the cost of your life. Winning will not matter to him, as losing will not greatly affect the quality of his life, which means he simply enjoys a sense of excitement and superiority, since, according to rumors, he plays very well.

«Well…»

— Oh? I haven't seen you before, — the blond man lowers his glasses on the bridge of his nose, smiling slyly at you as soon as you raise your head.

— I'm sorry, sir, today I'm serving you, because the dealer who is more familiar to you is ill, but I assure you, this will not affect the quality of the time spent in our institution in any way, — you kindly answer with a calm expression on your face, which causes the blonde to chuckle softly.

— How official! Relax, honey, — the man leans lower, slightly tilting his head to one side, carefully watching how the expression on your face changes to a more tense one. — It's a pity that… Oh, what was her name? — the blonde pulls away, thinking for a second, trying to remember the name of your colleague, but in the end only sighs briefly, spreading his hands. — It doesn't matter. You've been brought up to date, that we're going to need a separate room, haven't you?

— Yes, sir. Please follow me.

An unpleasant person. It was clear from afar that it was better to stay as far away from him as possible. These vibes of nauseating self-confidence and narcissism definitely don't bode well, but you still humbly do your duty, pulling on a smile and letting the guests into the VIP-room. Usually this room is rented by companies of influential people whose names are so well known to everyone that such guests don't even bother to introduce themselves, because you always know who they are, but these men… You're seeing them for the first time.

Anyway, a job is a job.

— Have a seat, dear guests. Would you like to see the bar menu?

Men in suits silently take their seats, and only an energetic blonde immediately responds to the sound of your voice, standing in front of the last empty chair.

— We'll order the same as usual,— the stranger says sweetly, spreading into a frighteningly sweet smile that sends chills down my spine.

— I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't know…

— Oh, how could I forget! — the blond man clasps his hands in a gesture of apology. — Whiskey on the rocks.

His theatricality is a little annoying, but that's none of your business.

— As you wish, sir.

The female silhouette peeking out from behind the slightly open door and instantly disappearing after the blonde's words only made your task easier, allowing you not to even leave the room. It seems that this man is really very popular among girls, which, in principle, isn't surprising. A pretty face, a thick purse and a sugary voice, like a demeanor, are the pillars that support the classic image of a heartthrob in the eyes of any woman. It would be fascinating if you hadn't met such people before. This place is teeming with both men and women, sometimes even reasonably believing that the whole world belongs to them. Perhaps you would have bought into his charisma too, if you were as frivolous as a bar employee rushing into a room no more than five minutes after the order was placed.

— Thank you, dear. As always, you help out, otherwise my friends seem to be out of sorts today, — the blond man chuckles melodiously, looking at the other five guests. You can almost see in their stern looks the desire to strangle this talkative flatterer, and you can't help but chuckle to yourself.

— Anything for our beloved visitor! Have a nice game, — your friend blushes, smiling shyly before leaving the room, barely restraining a satisfied squeak.

You modestly clear your throat, drawing the attention of everyone at the table to yourself.

— Well, gentlemen, shall we begin?

You leave the button* in front of the blond man sitting first on your left hand. Early* is the most unfavorable position to start the game, but he should have known about it when he sat down here, or is it just an accident?

After the preflop*, while you were deftly shuffling the deck in your hands, someone had already started emptying their glass of whiskey, someone took out a pair of fragrant chocolate cigars. The blonde just watched carefully how skillfully you dealt the cards, not missing a single movement of your fingers. For a second, you even doubted that he didn't trust the new dealer, but every time you dared to look at him, his lips stretched into an even more sugary smile, and his eyes always found yours. Is he trying to get you into the same emotions as the silly waitresses? You wonder how soon he'll lose interest in your indifferent face?

The game went on quite calmly until three people remained at the table, including a smiling blond man.

— Ace of hearts, two of spades, jack of hearts, ten of clubs, two of hearts. The bets are made, you can open, — you say in a monotone voice, glancing at the cards on the table that turn over one by one.

«Street? Not bad…» — you stop looking at the blond's cards before you hear a thud on the table. After looking at the other hands it became clear that there is nothing on the table stronger than two pairs.

— Oh, don't get mad! We've just started, — the blond man raises his hands in an innocent gesture, chuckling softly, it seems, making the man opposite even angrier.

It seems that now you understand a little what the casino guards were so unhappy about, but the more games passed, the more sad the blonde's position became. The empty glasses were hastily replaced with newly filled ones with a new portion of whiskey, and the concentration of smoke in the small room became more and more suffocating, it seems, only exposing the undisguised glee of the men at the table, allowing themselves to mock the blonde, who was catastrophically unlucky today. A flush* against a royal flush, a pair against a square* and, in the end, his hand could only boast of the highest card*. What a disappointment.

— Here, order yourself one more whiskey, — one of the departing men casually tossed a couple of chips in front of the blond man sprawled on a chair, grinning hoarsely before staggering slightly out of the room after the other four, whose loud voices disappeared into the noise of the casino outside the door.

— Sure, — the man who remained at the table smiled gently at the departing acquaintance before taking a sip from his glass.

You wanted to say something, maybe even encourage him, but it's not your way to mind your own business, so you just silently gathered the cards from the table, about to ask the guest to leave the room, when suddenly he spoke first.

— That's not what you expected, is it? — you turn to the blond man, who is resting his head on his own palm. The same strange smile is still playing on his lips, even despite how much money he left at this institution today. He's really weird.

— I don't know what you mean. I don't know how you play, so I couldn't even try to predict the outcome of the game.

— Come on. You know how I play. That girl from the bar told you about me, didn't she?

Annoy.

— Even so, I'm not used to trust rumors, — you reply indifferently, carefully putting the cards back in the box.

— In that case, now you can conclude that I'm a lousy player? Oh, that would be unfortunate, because everyone has unlucky days.

— I don't think it's about luck, — you wanted to say that someone should just drink less and make less risky bets, but you restrained yourself, maintaining professionalism.

— Ho-oh? Then what is it? — the blond man perked up even more, waiting curiously for your answer.

— It is not appropriate for me to give advice to visitors, because my earnings, among other things, depend on them.

— That's how it is! So I was wrong when I decided that you weren't like the other girls looking at my wallet?

— It turns out that it is. But I'm looking at the wallets of every potentially profitable player for me, — you shrug your shoulders. — And now, if you'll excuse me, you should leave the room, since the game is over.

— How pragmatic, you remind me of someone I know, — the blond man, as if he hadn't heard your last words, gets up from his chair, coming closer. — So you don't believe in luck, huh?

The man leans slightly forward, looking into your eyes from under the half-lowered glasses on the bridge of his nose. The expensive sweet fragrance of the perfume instantly cuts into your nostrils, and you take a small step back.

— It's absurdly to rely only on luck in poker. That's all I wanted to say.

— Hm-m … — the blond man pretends to think. — You're right. Then what about roulette?

— Even roulette has its own patterns, but if we don't go into details, of course, this game revolves exclusively around chance.

— Great! Then can we play? — the man turns towards the roulette table, which has apparently not been used for a long time, in the corner of the room.

— I'm afraid my shift is already over… — you frown, even before you finish, he interrupts you.

— Oh, I was so catastrophically unlucky today that I just want to win back at least another game, otherwise I won't be able to sleep peacefully tonight… Are you really that heartless?

— You can use the services of a croupier and play roulette in the hall.

— It would be sad, because I already liked you, — the blonde smiles, looking into your eyes again.

— If you're trying to flirt with me like that, then I'm in a hurry to upset you — it won't work, — you reply irritably, about to leave, when suddenly a weak grip on your wrist stops you.

— I'm sad to hear that, but what if I make a bet?

You turn around, batting your eyelashes in puzzlement when you meet the sharp gaze of a man's violet-blue eyes.

— You can't play roulette without betting, what's the point of all this?

— Let's say… if my bet plays out, you owe me a kiss, what do you say?

You almost boil with anger, looking at this personification of self-confidence standing in front of you.

— I'm not going to play your games, let go of my hand.

The attempt to pull back your hand was unsuccessful, on the contrary, only forcing the blond to pull you closer.

— It seems that luck isn't on my side today, so if I lose, I'll just leave.

The desire to just slap him in the face is almost impossible to ignore, but you wouldn't be working here if you weren't a gambling person too. Your lips stretch into an arrogant smile as you approach the blond man's face, slightly squinting your eyes.

— In that case, on what number* will you put it on?

The blond man's eyebrows rise, after which a ringing laugh is heard in the room.

— I knew you could entertain me! — the man lets go of your hand, but does not take a step away from you before saying softly. — I'm betting on zero.

«He's crazy!»

You almost laughed at how crazy his bet turned out to be, but it sounds like he's already agreed to leave you alone, so you just smiled, silently retreating to the corner of the dimly lit room. The table has indeed not been used for a long time, having already become covered with a layer of dust, but you take a small ball, gently rolling it in your hand before turning towards the blond man who remains standing at the poker table. He doesn't seem to care at all that he's going to lose now, and the smile doesn't leave his face for a second. It will be all the sweeter to see how the expression on his face will change when he loses.

— Your bet is accepted, — you say loudly before spinning the roulette wheel by throwing a ball at it.

The man doesn't even look at the spinning roulette wheel, instead watching your eyes follow the ball as it slides across the sectors.

12, 35, 3, 26, and finally….

— It can't be… — you whisper, eyes wide open and just looking at how the ball stopped at zero.

— Ho-oh? What's is it? Judging by your reaction, did I win? — the blond man grins, slowly removing his hat from his head and leaving the hat on the edge of the poker table.

This can't be happening. Betting on numbers is always a huge risk, because the chance that the ball will stop at the chosen one is incredibly small. Was he… really just lucky?

You purse your lips, summoning all the self-control you have to turn to the man with an indifferent expression on your face.

— That's right, congratulations on winning, sir.

— M-m… it's not just a win, you remember the conditions, right? — the blond man says playfully, slowly walking towards you, until finally he towers over you, elegantly ripping the glasses off his face.

«This jerk has probably been rehearsing this for years…»

— I didn't have to accept such bets at all, — you mutter irritably.

— I understand your disappointment, but still, you accepted it. Be kind enough to hand me my prize, — you look into the extraordinarily beautiful eyes of a man, trying your best to deny how really attractive he looks without glasses and a hat.

— Ahem… okay. But can I at least get your name? I wouldn't want to kiss a complete stranger.

— Huh? So you don't know who I am? How cute, — the blond man squints, breaking into a smile. — You can call me Aventurine. And you… — the man hooks the badge on your chest with the tip of his finger. — Y/N.

Where have all your old composure gone? They probably got lost somewhere in the midst of this madness, which for some reason you signed up for, following your own excitement. Self-confidence is just as much your enemy as Aventurine, only in this case he is elated with victory, and you are trying to collect your thoughts in order to fulfill the conditions of the game he started.

— Excuse me… — you mumble awkwardly before pressing your lips to the man's cheek, leaving as quick a kiss as possible to hastily turn away, hiding the blush that has appeared on your face.

— Hey! And what was that? — Aventurine says in disappointment, touching the place of your kiss with the tips of his black-gloved fingers.

— You asked for a kiss, but didn't specify which one, — you try to sound confident, but still mentally berate yourself for not being able to look into his eyes right now.

— Oh… — the blond man sighs heavily, pulling away and approaching the roulette table. — I'm not satisfied with such a victory. Let's do it again.

— Huh?! — you cry out indignantly, looking at the back of the impudent man rolling the ball around the zero sector. — I shouldn't be here at all, and neither should you!

— I'm betting on zero again.

You freeze, raising an eyebrow when you turn to Aventurine.

— You're going to lose.

— Maybe, — the man shrugs, turning to face you and leaning on the edge of the table. — But if the bet plays out again, you'll give me a real long kiss.

— I'm not going to waste my time on this madness. The chances of hitting zero a second time are so small that it's easier for you to just leave this room right now, since it's simply impossible to play this bet.

— Let it be so. You don't lose anything if you're so sure of my defeat, do you? Besides, didn't you say that you don't give advice to the players?

It annoys you how logical his words sound. But what's even more annoying is that you really doubt it. It's just not possible. You have to show this arrogant idiot his place.

— Okay, — and here you go back to the roulette table again. — But if you lose, you will never return to this casino again.

Aventurine's purple eyes widen before flashing a gambling spark.

— And you know how to make the game more interesting, — the man grins, picking up the ball from the table, carefully leaving it in your hand. — I agree.

This will be the craziest bet anyone has ever made in the entire existence of this casino. And it only fuels your interest too. You spin the wheel in anticipation by throwing the ball. Your heart is pounding in your chest, as if your own life is at stake. It's been a long time since you've experienced such adrenaline, no matter how absurd what's happening, because it's worth it to win…

— Ha-ha! It seems that today is really my day, — Aventurine grins as the ball slowly rolls and stops at sector zero. Again. — The money I lost in poker was worth spending all my luck on such a tempting prize.

Impossible. He just did the impossible. What were the chances? The mind is so devastated by shock that you can't even approximate the probability, just silently looking at the green sector in amazement.

— You're not… cheating, are you? — you're almost whispering, without opening your eyes from the little ball.

— What cruel accusations! How, tell me, could I cheat at roulette? — the man clicks his tongue in frustration, slowly wrapping his arm around your waist before pulling your body towards his. — If these are just assumptions without any evidence, I think it's time to start awarding the second prize.

The lips open, releasing a soft sigh into the air. You feel the warmth emanating from his body, the smell that his nauseatingly expensive clothes exude, and you feel his measured breathing on the skin of your face when Aventurine bends down, almost touching his lips to yours and freezes.

— I'll make it easier for you this time, — the blond whispers, letting his warm breath caress the delicate skin of your lips.

— What do you mean?.. — the only thing you managed to say right before Aventurine's lips covered yours.

Long fingers dive into your hair, forcing you to tilt your head back, and he deepens the kiss, insistently making his way with his tongue through your lips, which are not too resisting. A soft moan dissolves in Aventurine's mouth, and your fingers desperately cling to the fabric of the shirt on the man's chest, but still you respond to the kiss, allowing your tongue to stick out a little further, slowly waltzing in tandem with his. The shock was instantly replaced by a mixture of embarrassment and a flutter in his chest. It seemed that this kiss lasted forever, so harmonious, gentle, but passionate, as if you have known each other for so long that Aventurine doesn't need much effort to make you melt in his hands, which you allow to touch your body.

Lips gasp for air as soon as Aventurine pulls away, looking at your flushed, relaxed face, which isn't touched by the former cold indifference with which you looked at him all evening.

It's a strange feeling. From the very beginning, when you saw this man, the only thought that you would never in your life become infatuated with just his presence somewhere nearby was ingrained in your head, now fighting for supremacy with the unwillingness that he would let you go. You shouldn't give in to this.

You gently press on Aventurine's chest, shuddering as soon as you feel his warm skin under your fingertips, noticing that you touched this very seductive neckline.

— Is that all? I have to go… — you say softly, trying to get out of Aventurine's hands, but he's not even going to let go of your waist or your cheek, to which his palm is still pressed.

— Really? Well, then I won't hold you back, — the blond man grins, still continuing to prevent your imaginary escape.

— Then let me go. I gave away your winnings and I don't owe you anything else.

— Yes, you did, — the man whispers, gently stroking your cheek with a thumb in a leather glove.

You look at each other without saying a word and freeze like statues. The muffled sounds of slot machines, clinking glasses and laughter come from the hall outside the door, breaking the silence that hangs between the two of you, but you can't hear anything else except your own rapid heartbeat throbbing in your ears. A strange warmth spreads in your chest, gradually sinking down, and a heavy weakness settles in your legs, which doesn't allow you to move from your place.

«What are you doing, Y/N?», — you ask yourself one last time before you swear unintelligibly under your breath, grabbing Aventurine's shirt in order to involve the man in the kiss again. Greedy, careless, but you needed it. The blonde's palm shamelessly moves to your buttocks, covered with black trousers, gently squeezing the elastic flesh, and your fingers slowly slip under the neckline in the shape of an inverted heart, caressing the heated skin of Aventurine's chest.

— W-wait… — you suddenly break off the kiss, breathing heavily and looking at the purple irises covered with long eyelashes.

— What's is it? I won't complain that the dealer is harassing me if you're worried about it, — Aventurine grins, forcing the expression on your face to change to the old irritation.

— This is wrong. I don't have to…

— I don't care about the rules, — the man tilts his head to one side, smiling playfully. — I'm betting on black.

— What? — you ask discouraged, watching the man's fingers hastily undoing the buttons of your white shirt.

— If I win, now you'll be my prize, — Aventurine winks at you before opening the cotton fabric on your chest, noticing you are wearing a black lace bra. — Tsk-tsk, how unlucky you are today. I won again.

✧ ✧ ✧

The button is a special chip marked "D", transmitted clockwise and identifying the dealer (in this case, the dealer is an employee of the casino, so the button only determines who will bet first).

The early position is the player's place at the poker table, located immediately behind the dealer.

Preflop is the initial stage of the poker game, which includes the distribution of cards and the first bets, including blinds.

A straight is a combination of a sequence of five cards.

A hand is a combination of two cards in the player's hands.

A flash combination of five cards of the same suit.

Royal flush is the strongest combination of cards from 10 to ace of the same suit.

A pair is a combination of two cards of the same value (for example, two aces).

A square is a combination of five cards of the same value (for example, four aces).

The highest card is the card of the highest value of all lying on the table.

In roulette, it is possible to bet on one color, on even and odd numbers, and so on, including you can bet on a specific number, which is quite risky due to the reduced chances that such a bet will play, but the winnings from it are multiplied by 35.