#I did a reflection in the water!! :D

[warpeddaydream]

Hi! Sorry it’s been forever, I’ve been working on my art skills! I’ve also gotten back into Psychonauts (I grew up playing it,) so this is fanart for that!

(Don’t worry, I’m not leaving the RotTMNT fandom, I just figured I’d have some fun with another fandom I like.)

[sapientiiae-a]

   He’s not sure this is the right thing to do. Not sure if this was the answer that he was looking for. Sheik’s rarely ever completely sure of anything, if he’s honest. Though he makes plans and sticks to them harder than he does anything else, rarely anything goes the way that he expects it to and that just makes everything harder on him. He takes a deep breath as he swings himself up over the balcony, stepping through the doors silently and shutting them behind him. He makes sure to even flip the lock, even if no one comes in quite like he does. 

   His heart is constricting in his chest, dropping into the pit of his stomach, he’s never been so nervous in his life and he’s trying his best to keep himself together–to not show anything in front of her. A nervous guard makes for an even more nervous situation, and that isn’t what she needs right now. 

   Isn’t what she needs from him. 

   Sheik moves to stand in the middle of the room, hands fisting at his side, and as she picks her head up he meets her blue gaze. His own red were firm and steady, determined. He wouldn’t leave here without saying what he needed to say. That was the promise that he made himself when he got dressed this morning. They needed to meet a resolution to this problem, a problem that he created within himself. A problem that he doesn’t need. 

   Because the Princess deserves better. 

   “I want to be removed as your guard.” He starts first, swallowing the nervousness that tried to gather in his throat. Tried to keep him from speaking. He was going to be able to do this, and he wouldn’t look away from her when doing it. “Before you tell me no, it isn’t a request. It’s a demand. I’m the problem, not you.” 

   Sheik takes a breath. 

   “I have feelings for you that make it difficult to do my job. That make it difficult to think properly. That are unbefitting of a guard and a soldier toward his Princess.” He barely keeps himself from bitting into his lip. 

   “I’m sorry, in love with you.”

Sheik appearing unexpectedly was not an uncommon occurrence — in fact it was more frequent than her own arrivals to Kakariko Village.

However, it was not usual for him to turn up looking so resolute. It was no secret that he took his job seriously — a trait that seemed common amongst the Sheikah — but there was something different about him this morning. 

The first thing the princess notices is the audible ‘click’ of the lock as Sheik is sure to flip the mechanism upon his arrival in her bedchamber, though that part doesn’t quite raise red flags — he’d made it a point to want privacy on more than one occasion, even if she does not always understand his reasoning (like with the hair pin she currently wore). 

Her attention shifts from the desk to him, finding he is standing in the center of her study with an intent stare and hands curled into fists at his side. He seems tense — on edge — causing a pang of panic in Zelda’s heart as she fears something has happened.

“Sheik—what is—“ 

But she is interrupted before she can finish forming her question. Instead, Sheik beats her to the punch, stating the very reason he has paid her this visit, though the explanation is WORSE than the one she would have imagined. Immediately does her heart sink, and she fears that she has done something wrong. What was it this time? What had she done that finally pushed him over the edge? Past his breaking point?

Lips part in formation of a question, to uncover the reasoning behind his sudden request, but he clearly has no intention of letting her speak until he has spoken everything he wishes to say.

His talk of feelings — now that was out of character for the Sheikah. To go about them so freely, she assumes she must have done something rather drastic this time to have gotten under his skin enough to force him to resigning. To make tolerating her impossible.

But he speaks of love?

This was the biggest shock of the day — the year mayhap — her jaw nearly dropping as she stared up at Sheik. She can feel her hands tremble as her heart begins to pound at an erratic speed. In a way, she seems almost in a daze, struggling to form even a single word as the seconds tick by. 

Five….ten…twenty….

“Did you…did you say you were in love with me?”

[bi-writes]

who to call to clean up after an "accident" than your sick and twisted military boyfriend? :D (dark!ghost x dark!fem!reader, 18+)

cw: dark!reader, dark!simon, horror movie vibes, graphic depictions of character death/murder, unhealthy relationship dynamics, one slip of daddy, smut, unprotected piv, simon "spit in my mouth" riley, reader and simon are kinda psycho :D

you've been so nice to her. really nice. you've let it slide off your back whenever she doesn't do her dishes. you pretend you don't notice when she borrows your shoes from the hallway and wears them out to dinner. you hide yourself in your room when she has her awful, loud guests over, and you have never once said anything about how she takes her sweet time in the shared bathroom in the morning and makes you late 2 days a week for work.

but this? this?

she needs to keep simon's name out of her fucking mouth.

"excuse me?" you say finally. your roommate is shrugging on her jacket to leave, her purse in her hand as she types on her phone, using it as a way to not make eye-contact with you. her long nails are tapping against the screen, and it feels like fucking drip water torture. "what the fuck did you just say?"

she sighs, irritated, rolling her eyes as she keeps tapping away at the screen.

"you're so dramatic, it was just a fucking joke."

"you know, i let a lot of things slide," you laugh, humorlessly, and you cross your arms over your chest as you follow her into the kitchen. "but you need to be careful what you say."

"i don't do anything except call it like i see it," she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder and looking at herself in the reflection of the mirror hanging on the wall. "you need to just...go out more. man like that isn't gonna stay for long if you don't give him something to go for. he's bored, you know. when you have him over here all the time. and i've totally caught him peeking at me after i shower, y'know."

"well why the fuck are you wearing nothing but a towel when my boyfriend is here, anyways?" you snap. "he's trying to be polite, he's a guest. what if i wore a fucking towel when you had your guy friends over?"

she laughs, poking at the edge of her lip to fix the gloss of her pout. "trust me, honey, no one's looking at you in a towel."

you step back, a little shocked. she rolls her eyes again, sighing.

"i didn't--"

"are you kidding me?" you retort. "you're the worst fucking roommate in the world, and i put up with all your bullshit, and now you're going to go so low as to insult the way i look just to make yourself feel better?" you make your way around the kitchen island. "you don't wash your fucking dishes, you steal my fucking clothes, you're always late on your rent so i have to spot you--"

"you know what, just because i'm fucking happy, and you're not, doesn't mean you have to take it out on me!"

"i am happy, you sorry bitch!" you cry. "i'm so fucking happy, you're the only thing in my life making me constantly miserable!"

"oh, shove it up your ass, you ungrateful little shit!" she snaps. "you're just so fucking insecure and hate me so badly just because simon would rather fuck a girl like me than have to spend another minute with--"

the crack of cast iron against her head shuts her up. it dents the side of her head easily, and her face smacks against the countertop before she crumples to the floor.

it's so fast. one minute, she's yapping, high-pitched voice straining your ears. the next, she's silent.

and she won't say simon's fucking name again.

you watch with bated breath as she folds into herself, her head hitting the hardwood last, a slow puddle of blood beginning to grow under the tendrils of her hair as your eyes move to the heavy pan you're still holding in your hands.

fuck, that's a lot of blood. god, you thought she was just full of fucking air.

you drop the pan once the rush of anger leaves your chest. it thunks onto the ground, and your hands shake as you see the specks of blood that are on the back of your hands, sprinkled over the shirt you wear. it stains your bare legs, even your toes, and you don't even want to look at the spray of it along the counters.

you should be crying, you think. you should feel bad. you're trembling a little, but you think it's just the adrenaline beginning to fade and not the guilt you know is supposed to be racking your insides.

you turn your eyes back to her. her eyes are dull. she doesn't move. it's so quiet now, utterly silent, and you take a deep breath as you take in the silence that you've craved for a long while now. you make your way quietly out of the kitchen, stepping over her body before going for your phone that sits on the coffee table in front of the couch.

you keep your eyes on her as you put your phone to your ear. it rings, and you tilt your head to the side as the blood begins to spiderweb under the kitchen table.

"'ello?"

you blink, looking towards the door. you clutch your phone a little tighter to your ear.

"simon?" you say softly. "a-are...are you busy?"

he hums lowly, chuckling, "no' at the moment, swee'eart, why?" he asks. "mmm...missed y'r voice..." you close your eyes as you hear the buckle of his belt. you try not to picture your giant of a boyfriend leaning back on his worn couch and shoving his jeans low enough to fuck his fist. "tolk t'me, luv...tell me 'ow much ya miss daddy."

you clear your throat gently, willing yourself to ignore the soft squelch of what you know is his hand around his cock, to not let it distract you from what's more important. "uhm...i liked the flowers you gave me, simon. t-they were beautiful."

the sounds on the other end of the phone quiet. you hear shuffling, and then a few moments later, the clink of his car keys.

"tha' right, baby?" he asks, and you close your eyes as you hear the front door of his flat opening. he's already on the way, already coming.

"yeah," you sniffle. "really nice sunflowers."

a yellow flower. he huffs on the other end of the phone, breathing a little easier.

"good girl," he murmurs, and then the line cuts. you set the phone down, making your way back to the kitchen and taking a seat at the table. you watch as the blood continues to curl over the floor. you make no attempt to help her; you just swing your feet under you as you look at her spoiled outfit, just grateful she isn't wearing your shoes or one of your jackets. you would hate to have to throw something out that she got all dirty.

there's a curt knock at the door ten minutes later, and then it opens. simon shuts the door behind him, cracking his neck by moving it from side to side before narrowing his eyes at you. you bite your lip, blinking, forgetting suddenly why he is here when he looks so fucking good. he's got a sweatshirt on under his windbreaker, worn jeans tucked into his boots; you like these jeans, his ass looks incredible in them.

"wot happened?" he asks. you stand, remembering your place. your lip starts trembling, and simon's eyes soften just a little. he's wearing his balaclava, hood up over his head and jacket zipped up, shadowing any true expression on his face. his gait sounds heavy as he lets his hands out of his pockets, coming towards you. when he steps into the kitchen, his eyes dart towards your roommate who's still on the floor, laid out unnaturally just by the oven.

he lets out a low breath, clicking his tongue under the mask. you hold your breath as you wait for his reaction.

"bloody hell," simon mutters, reaching up and throwing his hood off. you wring your hands together nervously, your eyes beginning to sting with tears. you brace for the accusations, for the inevitable terror of facing the music. simon is military, for fuck's sake, why the fuck did you think turning to him would be a good idea?

"i...i-i--" you start, looking up at him, and he holds up a hand, taking the side of your face into his palm before smoothing a gloved thumb over your bottom lip. you blink in confusion, not understanding.

"'s olright, baby," he shushes you, shaking his head. "don't cry."

"simon, i--" you sputter a little, gripping his wrist gently. "i just--i couldn't do it anymore, she just--"

he pities you. maybe you can explain. maybe if you tell him a warped story of what happened, he can help you. he must know someone. he must have important friends, he must--

he uses his free hand to move his mask up over his nose, and you lean into him when he bends, kissing you warmly. your eyes flutter shut, and you shuffle closer as he kisses you sloppy, kisses you hot. you mewl as he slips his tongue into your mouth, licking over your teeth and humming low as he pulls away. his eyes are flashing.

mmm. love.

"hmm..." simon licks his lips, smiling a little. he looks over you, almost pensive, his eyes scanning over your face before he settles back on your eyes. it's tender, the way he looks at you. romantic. "let's get this off of ya."

he reaches for the large shirt you are wearing, pulling it up and over your head. he crumples it into a ball before tossing it on top of your roommate, nodding his head behind you.

it's then that you realize simon isn't going to do the noble thing. he isn't going to call the police. he isn't going to turn you in, make you explain, he seems uninterested in knowing what really happened. no, he already knows what happened. but that's not important.

his pretty, perfect girl got into a little trouble. and he's going to make this go away.

"go on, luv. take a nice shower, yeah?" simon turns you around and pushes on your back gently. you suck in a shaky breath when he fondles your ass, pulling on your panties gently. "mmm...take these off, too."

you slip your panties down your legs, handing them to him.

"they have blood on them, too?" you ask, wiping your face, and he chuckles lowly.

"nah," he shrugs, stuffing them into his back pocket after taking a little sniff. "these are just for me."

jesus fucking christ, there's really something wrong with him. there's something really, really wrong with him.

and something wrong with me.

simon looks you up and down, his eyes catching on your naked body for just a few moments before he nods his head again.

"go on," he tells you. "before i get distracted." you pause for a moment, tilting your head back a little as he reaches out and cups one of your breasts in his big hand. you bite your lip, swallowing back a heavy breath as he flicks his thumb over your nipple gently. "greatest tits 've ever seen," he mumbles, scrunching his nose under the mask before he lets you go. "yeah, go on, baby." it takes everything in you to walk away when you see him reach down with that same hand and grip his bulge through his jeans, adjusting himself as he turns back to the mess in the kitchen.

when you shut the bathroom door behind you, you hear shuffling in the living room. the coffee table scraping. the couch being pushed. the rustle of the rug you have there. he grunts a little, and you hear his boots track from the kitchen back to the living room.

you turn the water on hot. you decide to take a bath, not looking at yourself in the mirror as you sink into the tub and plug the drain. you make the water scalding, and it soothes your sore muscles as you rest your cheek against the edge of the tub and stare at the door.

you're not sure how long you stay there. long enough for the water to nearly slosh over the edge of the tub and for simon to swing the bathroom door open, seemingly done with his...tasks.

he's taken his sweatshirt off. just a black t-shirt tucked into jeans, and there's a slight pant to his breaths that tell you he's exerted some energy. you notice he has his gloves still on, but before he touches you, he takes them off and tosses them into the sink.

"move over," simon mutters, starting to undress. you look up at him as he undoes the button on his pants, shucking his shirt off and into the corner before dropping his jeans. the water swishes as you sit up, and you swallow hard when simon kicks his boots and pants off, his cock hanging heavy as his mask is the last to hit the floor.

fuck, he's so pretty.

he has no regard for his size. he simply steps into the tub behind you, taking a seat. he looks comically large in your small bathtub, and you squeak a little as the water spills over the edge of the bath and wets the floor. he hums as he feels the hot water on his back. you don't say anything as his hands start to turn the water a little red. you just look up, away, at him.

you shuffle between his legs, tucking yourself into his space. you can't help but look him up and down, admiring his naked physique. he's just hot. big arms, thick thighs, sunburnt tattoos and scars cutting across his face. he hasn't shaved today, so there's some stubble along his jaw, but your eyes focus a little too much on his girthy length, heavy as it sits on his stomach and leaks a little there. his fat stomach, all solid and pudgy, such a nice place for you to rest your hands.

"you did good today," simon says finally. you look at him, and he tilts his head to the side. his approval makes your chest warm. "callin' me like tha'. wot a good girl you are."

keeping quiet on the phone is what he doesn't add out loud.

you purse your lips, trying not to keen at the praise, but it's hard not to when he reaches over and slides his hand over your shoulder, thumbing at your jaw.

"i-i didn't...didn't know what to do," you admit, and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. you didn't know what to do, so you called him. level-headed enough to not do something rash and call someone else, no, you called him.

"mmm...tha's wot i'm 'ere for, luv," simon soothes you. "made such a little mess..."

you close your eyes. it's sick. deranged. fuck, it feels nice.

why don't i feel anything?

"i know. i'm sorry."

"nothin' ta be sorry about."

you slump into his arms, resting your cheek on his solid chest. you can feel his cock pulsing against your tummy, and you adjust yourself in the water, straddling him as you rest your chin on his pecs and look up at him through watery eyes.

you aren't sad. no. not sad at all. simon has shown you what he will do for the you. the lengths he will go. what he'll forgive just to take care of you. he's so capable, so understanding.

sick. twisted. mine.

"then i'll just say thank you," you mumble, grinding your hips slowly. simon hums, a wicked smile coming over his scarred face. he licks over his bottom lip, big hands gripping you by the fat of your hips as you grip the edges of the tub for stability. "say thank you to my big, strong man for taking such good care of me..."

he chuckles, his eyes lowering, watching your tits sway as you fit your pussy over his length and grind down on him.

"tha' so, baby?"

you nod.

"mhm," you whine. "how can i thank you, my big boy? how can i show you how grateful i am for cleaning up after me, hmm?" you bend at the waist, kissing him wet and warm, and he hisses as you suck his tongue into your mouth. he tastes like cigarettes, and normally you would curse him for it, but right now it tastes so much like him, and you lick around his teeth trying to taste more of that sweet nicotine.

"fuck--such a naughty little girl..." he snickers, reaching down. you sigh when he slides his big palms over your ass, forcing you to grind slower, the tip of his cock sliding through your folds leisurely. you grip the edges of the tub tighter, pressing down to give you more leverage to grind down harder. "make such a mess, oll the time..." you gasp when he presses into you just enough, the tip breaching your entrance and forcing you to squeeze around him, your cunt trying to suck him in. "olways needin' me ta pick up afta ya..."

you giggle, sliding your hands up his chest, gripping his shoulders for leverage as you sink down onto him. he grits his teeth as you do, his eyes focused on the way his cock disappears inch by inch until you're seated down in his lap, his length kissing deep and twitching excitedly. he always feels like a teenager again whenever you fuck--like you're the first pretty girl to ever wet his cock.

you cup his cheeks finally, smoothing your thumbs under his eyes as you bring his gaze up to meet yours. you swallow hard, looking down at him.

"i-i love you, simon," you breathe. he stills underneath you, his jaw clenching as he frowns just a little. you come a little closer, nuzzling your nose against his, your thumb falling to trace the outline of his torn lip. "i should've said it a long time ago...i-i..."

"heart's beatin' out y'r chest, luv," he mutters lowly. "'s olright...'m not goin' anywhere."

it's so disgusting. you should be fucking ill. you should be scrambling to the toilet, your breakfast halfway up your throat. you should be crying, emotional, begging simon to tell the cops that it was all your fault, because it is. he should've come here and made you do the level-headed thing and confess your terrible crime.

he shouldn't be here, sitting underneath you in your tub, cock-deep inside of you after helping you commit murder and then fucking clean it all up.

"what did i do?" you gasp, sitting up. you move to get out of the tub, but simon growls, putting two firm hands on your ass and shoving you back down on his cock, making you cry. "w-what did i do? s-simon, why don't i feel bad, why am i not sorry--?!"

simon tsks, feigning comfort. he juts his bottom lip out into a pout, mocking your little cries.

"oh, luvvie, don't start cryin' now," he chuckles. "don't start pretending like y'care."

uhm...

"simon--"

"no one likes a liar."

you're still trying to pretend, and he knows this. you're still trying to act how someone normally would react. someone normal, someone who thinks rationally, would never have picked up the pan in the first place. and even if they had, they would've scrambled, cried, picked up the phone and confessed, called an ambulance as they tried to get her to start breathing again, put both hands on her chest and tried to get her wake up.

but you didn't. you watched, unnervingly calm, as she stained the hardwood with her blood. you watched as her eyes glassed over, lifeless, and you watched as her insides began to paint the floor in abstract shapes as you gave it time to spread. and not once during that time, or waiting for simon, did you think to help her.

you didn't want to help her. and you certainly didn't think she deserved to get back up. maybe she hadn't done anything quite harsh enough to deserve death in someone else's eyes. annoying, overbearing, rude.

but it's hard to feel bad when she talked about simon. when she called him by his name. when you've seen her let her towel slip when he's in her vicinity, trying to coax him into her room when you're looking away.

you should've taken one of the throwing knives that simon hides in his boot and thrown it at her then, just for that.

"we're cut from the same bloody cloth, baby," simon says, almost accusingly. you grip the edges of the tub, trying to stand again, but he cants his hips and fucks up into you, drawing a frenzied moan out of you. you reach for his shoulders as he does it again, his tongue darting out before he licks a fat stripe over your pebbled nipple. "'s olright. 's okay, luv. don't worry. don't hafta get y'r hands dirty, swee'eart, i've got it."

"but simon," you whine, but all he does is shake his head. you don't have to put on this morality act for him. you don't have to pretend that you are sorry for something that you had every right to do, you don't have to explain to him why you aren't feeling the way you should be feeling.

simon doesn't care about how you should feel. he only cares about how you actually feel.

"she was in y'r way," simon grunts. "always bein' a bloody brat." he fists your hair and brings your mouth to his, groaning as you tighten around his cock. "'ow many times did she fuck ya over, baby, hmm? 'ow many times did she steal y'r fuckin' things, come outta the loo wearin' nothin' but her fuckin' knickers, yeah? 'ow many times?"

you kiss him, frantic, digging your nails into his pecs and dragging them angrily.

yeah. fuck her. fuck what she did to me, fuck the way she behaved, fuck her stupid face and her stupid attitude and her stupid little games.

"called ya names..." he's hitting your sweet spot now, making you cry from pleasure. your pussy feels so hot, squeezing him because you know he's right, and the way he fucks this time makes you think he really knows what you are and knows exactly how to get you there. "wot a fuckin' twat. deserved every bit o' it, baby."

you meet his eyes, dark and cruel. he's still moving, still holding onto your hips and drawing out little whines, but it's different suddenly, it's more. you nod, understanding.

simon is terrible. no good. his head isn't in the right place, maybe it never has been. you wonder, briefly, if this is what he does when he's at work, if these are the things that he's used to. maybe simon has been in service too long--maybe he doesn't understand that you aren't at war here, that you can't just kill and clean up, that you aren't in the field.

"she deserved it," you whimper, and he grins, all teeth, all mean.

"tha's it."

"she was such a bitch."

"fuckin' right."

"she got what was coming for her."

"nnghhh--fuck, baby, gonna make me fuckin' cum, tolkin' like tha'," he hisses. you practically smack him as you grab onto his scarred face, gritting your teeth as you glare down at him. his lips part, and you spit in his mouth as he fucks up into you, thighs hitting your ass with a wet smack that makes your head spin.

"and i'll get rid of the next bitch that so much as looks your way, simon."

the kiss is searing. hot, blinding, white noise fills your ears as he cums with you, stuffing you full as he cums hard, a pained groan leaving him as he collapses against the porcelain tub with a harsh thud. you follow him, chasing after him, kissing him between heavy breaths as you don't make any effort to move off of him. when simon opens his eyes, he can't help but smile.

he's never seen his reflection without a mirror.

[adimilkys]

Sylus NSFW alphabet

(MDNI, 18+, Sylus x fem!reader)

a - aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Sylus may be rough during sex, but he’s a sweetheart after. Taking care of you, getting a bath ready. If your muscles are too sore he’ll massage your body, making sure you feel as comfortable as possible. He’ll cuddle you up, never leaving you alone to feel like a toy.

He makes sure to always ask if you’re alright, your comfort is the most important part for him.

“Did I go too rough, sweetie?”

“Do you want me to be more gentle, kitten?”

you always tell him no, you love it how rough he is but he always makes sure to ask.

b - body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also theirs partners)

He doesn’t really have a favorite body part of his, but his favorite your body part? Everything. He loves your body equally.

But, if you told him to pick one, he’ll say your face. He loves your expressions, the way you pout when you beg him for something, or during sex- the way your mouth hangs open, heavenly sounds leaving it. Your teary eyes, staring up at him- making him even more feral for you. The way your cheeks are flushed with red, tears streaming down them from the pleasure. God, he could cum just from looking at your face.

c - cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

His cum doesn’t really have a taste, it’s neutral and maybe a tad bit salty. He makes sure to eat fruits so you won’t be disgusted with it while his cock is down your throat.

d - dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has a lot, like a lot of your pictures on his phone. After you’re done fucking, and you’re still coming back from your high, he takes a picture of your fucked out face. Of your body that is covered in his marks.

When he’s not home, maybe on a mission. He uses Mephisto to spy on you, when you’re out of the shower, all naked and water dripping down your body. He just loves watching you when you’re oblivious.

e - experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Sylus has never been in a romantic relationship but he did have some flings, yet none of them satisfied him as much as you did.

f - favorite position (this goes without saying)

He has two favorite positions, one of them being fucking you against a wall, more preferably- in the shower. When you can’t do anything but just hold onto him as you’re pressed against the shower wall. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he rearranges your guts, his head resting on your shoulder, sneaking in a few bites and hickeys.

As for the second one, it’s reverse cowgirl, and it has to be in front of a mirror. So you can look at yourself while he pounds into your pussy. The way your breasts bounce, your ass slaps against his thighs and of course, the perfect view of your face in the mirror. Whenever you try looking away he grabs your face and makes sure it stays straight, looking in the mirror. (Also, he loves it when your eyes meet his in the reflection)

g - goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? Etc.)

I think he’s more serious, but he also sneaks in a few teasing jokes in to make you annoyed.

h - hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.)

He takes care of his body, making sure he’s always well groomed. He doesn’t have a bush, but does have hair down there. He knows how much you love it when he’s fucking you and his pubic hair tickled your clit.

i - intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

He may treat you rough and degrade you in bed, but you know that he loves you. And he makes sure to show it the most when he’s close, and if you even dare to doubt it he shows how much he loves you while fucking you vanilla, when he’s gentle whispering nothing but praises and compliments.

j - jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When you’re away from each other, and he misses you a bit too much- and you’re not available to call he pulls out your pictures and videos (from his dirty secret) and that’s enough to make him cum.

When you’re available to call him tho, it leads to phone sex, hearing your pretty little moans as you finger yourself while he’s stroking his cock, imagining it as your hand.

k - kink (one or more of their kinks)

Oh how he loves punishing you, your pretty ass on his lap while spanks it, making you count, while his other hand is playing with your pussy- and if you lose count he starts all over again.

bondage and blindfold sex, of course not on him (if you try, after a few minutes of teasing him he rips his arms free and destroys you) but on you? Your hands tied up, same with your legs, not able to move while he overstimulates your body. Adding the blindfold to that, making things even more spicier as you never know what his next move will be.

Degradation, he loves calling you a slut for him in bed, knowing it turns you on too. But he knows to never go overboard, again- you being comfortable is his top priority.

l - location (favorite places to do the do)

Shower and bedroom anddd his office

Bending you over his desk in his office, or fucking you on the couch.

Against the shower wall.

But nothing will beat his bedroom, where you can be the most comfortable. No one daring to disturb you both, you can be as loud as you want and after- you can cuddle in his bed without having to move places.

m - motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you’re being a brat, just begging to be punished and ruined.

When you’re angry, you’re yelling at him on how he needs to be more careful or whatever- he’s hard.

Or when you’re both at an event, an auction or just a party, wearing those skimpy dresses. He just can’t wait to rip them off you.

n - no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sharing you, Sylus is possessive. When a man dares to touch you or even flirt with you he’s dead meat, even when you’re giving a bit too much attention to Lucas and Kieran his jealousy strikes (even though he’ll never admit to being jealous). He will never let another man or woman see what he sees.

Pain play, sure he loves spanking you but he will never and I mean if, NEVER hurt you in bed even if you consent for it. Slapping your face? Knife play? no.

non-con, you know about the pictures he takes of you (you’ve caught him in the act and just saw his gallery) and you don’t mind it as you have his pictures as well, but if you’re drunk (even if you beg him) not in the mood or asleep he won’t dare to touch you. He needs your sober and aware consent.

o - oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves eating your pussy, it’s his favorite meal- he could spend the entire night just making you cum from his mouth.

He was never a fan of giving, during his flings he just fucked and nothing more. Until he met you and tried it out- he immediately fell in love and became obsessed.

As for receiving, he loves seeing your mouth full of his dick, not able to fit it all in. Watching your mouth full of his cum before swallowing it. (Tho if you don’t feel comfortable / don’t like it he won’t force you nor even ask for it).

p - pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)

Sylus is rough, very rough in bed. Pounding into you so hard that you can’t even remember your own name, the only thing leaving your lips are moans of his name, not even able to speak- so fucked out.

His cock torturing your sweet spot and cervix, pulling out orgasm after orgasm out of you.

Thought, if you needed to be held and comforted but still railed- he’ll be slow and sensual but giving you the pleasure that you need, making sure for give you the comfort that you need while making you cum.

q - quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He prefers to take his sweet time with you, making you cum on his tongue a few times, or on his fingers and then his cock.

If you’re both needy, and don’t have a lot of time- he’ll pull you into the bathroom of the place you’re in and fuck you without wasting any time, leaving both of you satisfied for the rest of meeting etc. (Not really, you both want more).

r - risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? Etc.)

He prefers for your fun to be in the private, where he can hear your loud moans instead of you having to be quiet, not to mention his possessive side- if you get caught the person won’t be even able to realize what’s happening before they’re dead, oops.

s - stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Sylus has an INSANE amount of stamina, he can fuck you all day and he won’t be even tired (he probably would do it but you would pass out about 20 times).

He’s the one that does most of the work, when you’re riding him and get tired (he isn’t surprised, he knows how hard it is for you to bounce on his huge cock) he just grabs your hips and starts bouncing you up and down while you scratch his chest, trying to keep balance.

On average, you go for about five rounds, when both of you are tired probably just one. But when he’s frustrated? Good luck because you ain’t surviving.

He can make you cum about two or even three times just on his cock before coming himself.

t - toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He bought a vibrator just for you, he mostly uses it when you’re in a meeting so he can play with you while you struggle to be quiet.

u - unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sylus is like the king of teasing, he can torture you for hours. Can you blame him tho? He just loves seeing you beg for him.

If you’re the one that tries to tease him, it won’t end good for you('r pussy).

v - volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not very vocal, he’ll mostly groan but it’s almost impossible to hear him let out an actual moan (the time you did hear him moan he was so embarrassed he just bit your shoulder to not make anymore noises)

If you want to hear him more than usual tho, you have to go for the neck.

w - wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He doesn’t know it, and disagrees with the idea of having a breeding kink. Knowing damn well he’s trying to pump a kid into you every single night.

Another thing is, he’s not disgusted by period sex. Especially when you’re cramps are bad and he knows giving you an orgasm will help (he read it on the internet).

x - x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He has a huge dick, about 9 inches that hits all the right spots inside of you.

It’s also thick, like really thick. The first time you both had sex he couldn’t even fit and had to size train you for a few days.

It hurt at first, but as you got used to it, the feeling was amazing. He may have been gifted with a big dick, but he also knows how to use it.

y - yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

If he could, he would spend every single hour of the day fucking you. He’s needy and horny all the time but also busy, which means he can’t fulfill his fantasies every time.

z - zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sylus is a night owl, he doesn’t sleep a lot. After your session, even if you have fallen asleep he’ll clean you up, change the sheets and tuck you in. Maybe he’ll read a book afterwards if he’s not that tired (while holding you) or just cuddle you up and fall asleep.

requests are open, feel free to send some

[rainrot4me]

Rain’s Kinktober 2024 - 03

Eyeless Jack x Female Reader - Mirror/Overstimulation

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Overstimulation, cunnilingus, mirror sex, oral, desperation, pleasing, body positivity, controlled orgasm, embarrassment, body image issues, fluffy smut

Tag: #rainykinktober2024

Words: 2.8k

Jack found it so irritating how you pleaded with him to turn the lights off every time he slept with you.

At first, he thought it was an insult, a secret disgust you had for him that you were too scared to admit. But, that couldn’t be right.

You were kissy and loving all other times, unafraid to express your desire for the demon or hold back from complimenting everything he did. It just didn’t make sense why when he began to make love to you, suddenly all of that confidence and fluffiness washed away. Hiding your face in the pillows, wrapping your arms over your tummy, or even lightly panicking when he cooed you to get on top.

Until he thought about it, really thought about it.

It took time, but he began to catch the way you tugged your leggings a little higher on your stomach or adjusted your shirt so it was baggier in the front. He didn’t miss how you preferred your clothes a little baggier, opting for his instead. You sucked in when he held you, stood up straighter when he talked to you. It took time, but slowly all the pieces were connecting, all of the little tale-tell signs that you so meticulously hid.

To anyone else, it would seem normal. Maybe you just liked bigger clothes, or you just liked to wear his instead.

But Jack knew. And he wasn’t going to let you dig yourself deeper.

“Hi, beautiful.”

Jack stepped behind you, leaning over to peck a kiss atop your head. You smiled up at him, stalling your work at the kitchen counter to hike up onto your tiptoes and kiss his lips. His claws reached around your waist, pulling you back against him.

“Hi.”

“I have a surprise for you… See you later tonight…?”

He didn’t miss the little embarrassed excitement that tinted on your cheeks, your small smile nodding to him as you resumed whatever food you were making. The demon left you with another kiss, stepping away with a grin.

You wouldn’t know, but he was setting up your ‘surprise’ in your room. He took the full-length mirror from your closet, hooked it off of the hinges, and placed it on the wall opposite your bed. He made sure it was angled right, sitting on the edge of the bed to ensure you would get a good view.

You needed this more than he did, but that didn’t make him any less excited.

Night eventually fell, the quiet stir of your house looming as you stepped out of the shower down the hall. Jack was already perched at your doorframe, one shoulder hunched on the plaster as you stepped from the steaming bathroom, towel tucked neatly around your frame.

Fresh from the shower, you smelled so delicious. Little fruity savory scents wafted around you as Jack breathed deep, chills running up his back. He couldn’t wait.

He didn’t miss the little flush in your cheeks or the way you smiled sweetly when he reached a hand out, your small one clasping right in his palm. He also didn’t miss how you tugged the towel up a little higher to cover your underarms, glancing down to give yourself a once-over before following him. He was more than tired of your overthinking brain.

You gasped lightly when you stepped into your warm bedroom, candles and tiny tea lights lit up across any surface the demon could place them. You looked around in awe, eyes bright and twinkling from the fire glow, Jack’s claw tugging you further inside. Now you wouldn’t be able to turn the lights off…

“Jack… What is this for…?” You smiled, pushing your wet hair back from your face as Jack closed the door. Glancing to your bed, you noticed the water bottle and tiny assortment of Advil, all things that you typically needed after a night with the demon.

But, you also didn’t miss the mirror from your closet repositioned in front of your bed, glancing at your reflection sourly.

“Why did you move my mirror?”

“Suprise…” Jack cooed, stepping in to press behind you, his claws wrapping around to the front of your stomach. It had always impressed you just how much taller the demon was compared to you, but looking at it now, he seemed huge.

You stood in front of the glass, staring at Jack’s reflection with knitted brows, his lips coming down to kiss behind your ear. You shivered, his breath so warm against your damp skin, leaning back into his touch.

“What do you mean, surprise?”

The demon chuckled, hooking his fingers into the towel and slowly opening it, your eyes flashing down to yourself as you watched nervously.

“Wait…” You groaned.

Your legs instinctively clenched when your bare body showed itself, large claws tugging the towel from your sides and tossing it somewhere unknown. The warm candleglow bounced off your skin, deep oranges and yellows showing every freckle and indent as Jack found his way back to your neck.

You cringed, staring only at Jack’s face pressed close to yours instead of looking at yourself, disgust slowly creeping in and ruining your mood. He felt the way you tensed against him, a deep groan against your neck as he lifted off.

“Can we not with the mirror?” You mumbled, keeping your eyes solely focused on him instead of where he wanted you to look, at your beautiful body. He shook his head, pulling you back until you sat on the edge of your bed, Jack circling to your front. “This is exactly why we need it, I think.”

You’re confused, crossing one leg over the other as Jack kneels himself in front of you, his large frame putting him at eye level with your chest. You immediately edge back, shaking your head slowly.

“I know what this is…”

Jack is wrapping his claws around your ankles before you can get any further, pulling your body to the edge again and making you sit up straight. He didn’t care as you whined your unwillingness for his idea, pushing himself between your knees and pulling your claves to lock onto his sides.

One claw wraps around your jaw, tugging your face down to face him directly as you huff, silently pleading with him. He pressed his lips softly against yours, giving you a moment to recuperate before he sat back again.

“You, my pet, are the most intoxicatingly beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I find it insulting you think something I find attractive is ugly.” His words are overlapped with kisses down your neck, his claws resting eagerly on your hips as he pecks downwards, breathing deep into your neck.

Your arousal floods his senses, the silent excitement he can almost taste as he kisses your chest so sweet and hungry. Your breathing catches as he palms your tit, massaging the mound slowly until you’re arching your back into his touch.

“Every time I see you, I can barely hold myself back from kissing every square inch of your skin.” His lips dip lower, kissing between your tits and down to the top of your stomach. A quiet whine slips through when he finally makes it to the softness of your tummy, kissing across your warm skin and nipping gently with his teeth. Oh, how he would love to have just a bite, just a taste of your sweetness underneath.

You were shuddering the lower he got, little wet spots from his lips trailing to the tops of your thighs, your eyes never leaving him for a second.

He loves your pliability when you lean back on your hands, his claws hooking under your knees to push your thighs open further, the sweet scent of your arousal making him lightheaded. Your heavy eyes watched as he nipped the inside of your legs, kissing the soft skin as close as he could get to your pretty cunt before you were gasping.

He leaned back, much to your disappointment, but held your gaze, the deep sockets boring into you. You were nervous, body twitchy and shifting awkwardly to avoid glancing up to the mirror.

Sleeping with the demon was heavenly, his body and words coiling you up just right. But, you could never get over the roadblock that was your appearance.

Jack made it so evidently clear how pretty you were, complimenting you every chance he got and going the extra mile to make you feel special. That didn’t stop you from cringing at the way your stomach rolled when you moved, or how your legs took up so much space when you sat down. There was no telling how a man so lean and strong found someone like you so addicting.

He was about to show you, though.

“I want you to look at yourself.” You groaned, rolling your eyes at him, but the look on his face was serious.

Huffing, you looked up into the mirror across from you, the warm-toned room lighting your reflection and showing you leaned back on the edge of the bed and Jack’s large frame kneeled neatly between your spread legs.

Quickly, you glanced back down, Jack’s face still one of seriousness at the gentle scowl you held.

He leaned in slowly, pushing his face back between the plushness of your thighs and pushing your knees further apart. You let your lips part, upper body leaning back further in preparation for him.

Until he stopped. Just mere inches from your whiny cunt, his hot breath making your body run with chills. You waited, body heavy and eager, but slowly tensing with confusion when he didn’t press any further than that.

“Uh, Jack?”

He tilted his head up, eyelids low on his empty sockets as he peered into yours.

“I said I want you to look at yourself. Look away, and I’ll stop.” He grinned coyly, jagged teeth gleaming in the candlelight as he leaned in again, this time kissing against the lips of your expectant cunt.

Your jaw still hung loose as you nervously sat up a little more, eyes tense to glance up at yourself as you felt a thick, warm tongue glide smoothly between the wetness of your folds. Your eyes finally met your reflection, giving one quick glance down to see that Jack was peering up at your face, watching carefully.

You huffed, staring back at yourself and gasping as your cheeks grew a darker shade of pink, freckles and dimples bright on your face. You could barely hold yourself from watching his back muscles flex and contort as he holds your legs, a quiet grumble making you refocus.

“Hnn…” Jack let his lips pucker against your puffy folds, tongue gliding through the slickness and rounding at your clit. The long muscle lapped at the taste of your cunt, pulling deep groans and whines from the both of you.

Even though working you, Jack watched on, carefully holding your gaze to make sure you never looked away from your beautiful face. You were jittery, muscles tensing and legs nearly shaking as you tried so hard to obey him. It all just became a little too much when he finally pushed the thickness of his tongue past your entrance.

“Oh, hah- Fuck-” Your eyes flickered back and forth, trying so hard to hold your own gaze but getting caught in the view of his tongue slowly pushing into you. Your bottom lip slipped between your teeth, fingers grabbing the sheets a little tighter as Jack huffed.

You were ready for that sweet feeling of fullness, of his long tongue craning inside and rubbing all the right places. But, when he slowly began to retract the muscle, pulling his head back from the center of your legs, you nearly cried.

“Jack, please-” He just watched on, staring at you with disinterest.

“Keep your eyes on the mirror.”

You took the hint, forcing your glance back to your flushed face, heavy eyes and droplets of water from your shower gleaming in the candlelight. Jack resumed, pushing his face back quickly and letting his tongue slick back into your excited entrance again.

But, when you felt another tongue slip from his lips, you gasped, shoulders tensing as you willed yourself not to look down.

Immediately, he’s squeezing his hot tongue past your folds. And it’s all you can do to buck your hips up when he licks at your sloppy entrance. Your throbbing clit. Anywhere and everywhere Jack could reach. You hissed, back arching into the feeling as your hands fisted the sheets.

It was so embarrassing to see your face involuntarily strain and tense at every heavenly feeling, your eyes flutter or lips part with the loud noises of Jack lapping away at your pussy. And you couldn’t even watch him do it.

Your body was wrecked with pleasure, Jack using all of his devices to pull desperate moans and cries from your lips as he pushed his tongue deeper, the other flicking against your whiny clit.

“Look how good you look falling apart, little thing…” He grumbles against your wetness, muscle curling and soaking up all of your arousal. Your hips angle, trying so desperately to ride on his hungry tongue.

Your face is wrecked, body alike as you let your hands leave the bedsheets and curl around his head, fisting your fingers into his hair. The demon growls, letting his third tongue push through his lips and rummage against you, poking and pushing to try and fit inside your entrance.

“Jack- Jack- Ahn- Yea-” You pull against his hair, making sure you keep your eyes solely on your reflection, the gradual build of your orgasm tingling in your gut. Jack can taste it, can smell it as he finally gets a second tongue past that tight ring of muscle.

You cry out, eyes shutting only for a second, but quickly flicking back open. You would rather die than let Jack see you weren’t looking at yourself, wanting nothing more than to keep his tongues at the pace they were at. You’d look at yourself the rest of your life if it meant you felt like this.

“P-please ah- oh-” You squirm.

The demon is practically fucking you open with the warm muscles, the stretch and push against your walls so delicious and overwhelming, but all you can do is claw for more.

“Tell me how… hah- How beautiful you are…” He slurs into your cunt, grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Fingers just digging into your hips, sure to leave pretty little marks for him to admire later, but you comply. You’re embarrassed, desperate, and desire clinging to your every word.

“I’m… I’m beautiful…hnn-”

“Pretty…”

“I’m pretty-”

“Perfect…”

“Fuck… I- ah- I’m perfect…”

Your face is flushed with desperation, watching your every muscle contort until you finally feel like you can look at yourself without cringing, mind too busy trying to push your orgasm out.

Finally satisfied, Jack lets go of your thighs, the limbs instantly clinging around the side of his head and squeezing. He groans, pushing your body back flat against your bed and completely ravaging your cunt.

You finally get the chance to look down, his own face flushed and disheveled as his tongues curl and tug your orgasm through, body convulsing and writhing under him.

“Jack-!” You’re cumming, hard, eyes rolling back into your eyelids as you grip his hair tight, the sweet relief of waves of pleasure gripping your every movement. Your gummy walls are squeezing around him so tight that it’s almost difficult fuck you through your high the way he wants. He doesn’t let up though, drinking up all your cunt spills on his tongues, deep groans and heaves of breath flooding your senses.

When you finally begin to hiss, sensitivity gripping, he tugs his tongues out, letting your body relax.

His mouth is soaked, a claw coming to wipe away the saliva and arousal from his chin as he pulls you up. Kisses are quickly littered across your skin, hands massaging deeply across your lower back.

“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…” He whispers, pushing up to kiss across your face, your flushed skin hot under his lips. You’re still embarrassed, still reluctant to look up at yourself in the mirror, but you do it anyway.

Your body is disheveled, cunt still flashing with arousal, but the view in the mirror is a lot more tolerable, a lot more pretty than you remember it being.

Jack smiles as you watch yourself, tugging you back closer as he retakes his position, pushing your legs open.

It doesn’t take him coaxing for you to look at yourself when his tongues slide between your dripping cunt again, a wilted moan as he pushes back in again.

If he could love you and your body so much, maybe you could learn to, too.

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thanks to my wonderful editors: @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

[just-aake]

A Feline Connection Part 6

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha is confronted by someone from your past and faces a new troubling situation that requires her to find you.

Masterlist Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Warnings: angst, violence, hurt/comfort, toxic relationship/emotional manipulation (not from Natasha)

Words: 4905

Natasha carefully rewraps the bandage around her bruised knuckles, her gaze drifting toward the night sky outside your apartment window. 

The faint glow of distant city lights only emphasizes the darkness around her, leaving her alone in the dim room.

She flexes her hand experimentally, wincing at the ache, but the pain is almost welcomed—a distraction from the raw, defeated feeling inside her. 

Her phone beeps in her pocket, and for a fleeting second, a hope flares within her. 

Hope that it was you. 

But when she pulls out her phone, the screen immediately dashes away that spark. 

Her heart sinks slightly, but she still answers the call as she makes her way to the kitchen. 

“Did you find anything?” Her voice still carries a thread of hope she can’t entirely hide. 

There’s a pause before Tony’s voice comes through, his tone uncharacteristically serious. 

“Sorry, Nat, the kid and I searched everywhere. There’s nothing left. The place has been stripped clean—completely abandoned. Same as last night.” 

Natasha closes her eyes, inhaling deeply as she absorbs his words. 

After being forced out, she had to regroup and call for backup. But by the time they returned to the site, it was as if the place had never been occupied. 

No trace of guards, no equipment, and worst of all—no sign of you. 

“How are you holding up?” Tony asks, his tone softer, catching the weight in her silence.

Natasha clenches her fists, testing the tightness of her grip. Her knuckles ache, a dull, persistent pain, but it barely scratches the surface of what she feels inside. 

“I’m fine,” she replies, her voice steady but carrying a tired edge. “Just some bruises.” 

Natasha sighs, her frustration and concern bleeding into her tone as she continues. 

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” 

Natasha glances toward the front door, where Widow sits, her little black form almost statue-like, staring intently at the door as if willing it to open. 

Her tail swishes softly, but her gaze remains fixed, waiting. 

“I’m going to stay here for now,” Natasha declares, her resolve solidifying. She reaches for a small bowl and fills it with water, setting it on the kitchen counter. 

There’s a pause on the other end, then Tony’s voice, understanding and resigned. 

“Alright. Take care of yourself, Romanoff. Call us if you need anything.” 

“I will,” she murmurs, ending the call as she heads toward the cat by the door. 

“Widow,” she calls softly with a gentleness reserved for only a few. 

The cat’s ear twitches in acknowledgment, but she doesn’t turn, her entire focus still on the door. 

Natasha watches her for a moment, a pang of sympathy tightening her chest. 

She crouches down, setting the bowl beside her as she tries again to coax her. 

“If you’re not going to eat, at least drink something,” she urges, hoping the cat will respond.

But Widow doesn’t move, her tiny body tense, her gaze unwavering as she guards the USB drive tucked protectively beneath her paw. 

Natasha reaches a tentative hand toward her, but Widow’s yellow eyes narrow, and a low, warning warning sound escapes from her. 

Sighing, Natasha withdraws her hand, understanding that the cat won’t easily surrender what you entrusted her. 

She glances at the USB, reflecting on the mysterious mission you had given to the little animal, who seemed so intent on completing it. 

The cat’s dedication and loyalty is admirable, but Natasha knows that this kind of behavior will only become more harmful to her the longer she waits. 

Still, she hesitates, feeling the weight of what she needs to say. 

Widow had held her stance for a full day now, refusing anything Natasha had offered. 

And as much as Natasha respects her determination, she can’t let the little cat continue like this, clinging to a promise that may never be fulfilled. 

Steeling herself, she leans closer, her voice soft but steady with reluctant honesty. 

“She’s not coming, Widow,” Natasha murmurs, her tone carrying the painful truth.

The reaction is immediate. 

Widow’s body stiffens and tenses, her eyes flashing with defiance as she finally meets Natasha’s gaze. 

A small, angry growl escapes her as she clutches the USB tighter, then pointedly turns her back to Natasha, ignoring her completely. 

Natasha sighs softly, feeling the sting of the cat’s rejection. 

She leaves the bowl close by, in case Widow changes her mind, then moves wearily to the couch. 

Lying down, she keeps her eyes on the cat, watching as the minutes drag into hours, the room settling into a quiet stillness. 

Eventually, exhaustion overtakes her, and she drifts into a dreamless sleep. 

It’s a soft nudge on her hand that wakes her. 

Natasha blinks, momentarily disoriented, and glances down to find Widow on the couch beside her. 

The cat's head is lowered as she lets out a sad, mournful meow. 

With a gentle motion, she pushes the USB toward Natasha, nudging it forward with a paw, her posture dejected. 

Ignoring the device, Natasha opens her arms in a silent invitation. 

Widow hesitates, then pads into her embrace, curling up tightly against Natasha’s chest. 

Natasha pulls her close, one hand resting gently on the small, trembling body, the other stroking her soft fur in an effort to soothe her. 

Widow had offered her comfort in countless moments since she had met the small animal, so Natasha’s grip tightens protectively, offering what little comfort she can in return. 

She can feel the cat’s sorrow in the small, heartbreaking whimpers that escape her.

The sad sounds eventually fade as Widow drifts into an uneasy sleep, her small body occasionally twitching, as if the dreams that find her are anything but restful. 

A pang of sympathy tightens in her chest, understanding the feeling the cat must be going through.

After a moment, Natasha’s gaze on the sleeping cat is pulled away when her phone on the table lights up, vibrating softly with an incoming call. 

Her heart skips a beat when she sees your name flash across the screen. 

Moving carefully to avoid disturbing the little creature, Natasha grabs and answers the phone, pressing it to her ear with barely contained urgency.

“Hey, where are you? Are you okay?” she blurts out, her voice low but charged with concern.

Silence greets her, stretching unbearably long, and Natasha’s unease grows. She’s just about to call your name when a low, mocking chuckle crackles through the line.

“You know, she had you saved under an hourglass icon,” an unfamiliar voice drawls. 

Natasha’s brows knit in confusion, a cold sensation settling over her as she realized this wasn’t you. 

“Who is this?” she demands, her tone sharp and dangerous. “Why do you have her phone?”

The voice lets out a thoughtful hum as if savoring her reaction. 

“Let’s talk,” the voice taunts. “One on one. Come to the address I sent you—if you really want to know.”

The line goes dead, leaving Natasha staring at the phone, a notification already lighting up the screen with a set of coordinates. 

She exhales, steeling herself as her gaze drifts back to Widow, still curled beside her, her tiny body twitching restlessly in her sleep.

Determined, Natasha slips from the couch, pulling on her jacket as she glances back one last time. 

The sight of Widow sleeping restlessly stirs her resolve. 

This stumbling in the dark can’t go on—not for her and certainly not for the cat. 

She leaves quietly, heading to confront whoever this mysterious stranger is.

The coordinates bring her to the entrance of an unmarked underground bar. 

A brawny guard stands watch by the door, his gaze impassive but sharp. He sizes her up briefly, then steps aside without a word, opening the door and allowing her in. 

The door closes behind her with a definitive slam, trapping her in the dim, smoky atmosphere of the room.

The bar is quiet, empty save for a single figure sitting casually at the counter, her back turned to her. 

Natasha’s gaze sharpens, taking in the woman’s straight posture and the aura of confidence that radiates from her. 

Jet-black hair cascades down her back, and a strange glint of metal catches Natasha’s attention—the unmistakable shimmer of a gold mask covering her upper face.

Natasha moves forward, her steps soundless as she approaches the counter. She sits two stools away, close enough to talk but keeping a cautious distance. 

The woman remains silent, seemingly content with the space between them, focusing on the glass before her. 

Another shot glass slides across the counter toward Natasha. 

She catches it mid-slide but doesn’t raise it to her lips, choosing instead to study the stranger beside her. 

The woman’s casual, almost indifferent demeanor betrays an underlying edge, a danger that Natasha can feel. 

The woman lifts her own glass, taking a slow sip, before finally breaking the silence without so much a glance in Natasha’s direction.  

“What’s wrong?” she murmurs, a smirk lacing her words. “Afraid I poisoned it?”

Natasha furrows her brows, coolly setting the glass back on the counter as her response.

The woman glances at her before shrugging and pouring herself another glass. ​​The lightness in the air feels false, loaded with an unspoken tension. 

Finally, Natasha breaks the silence.

“You already know who I am,” she says evenly. “So who are you?”

The woman turns, the gold mask covering her upper face catches the dim light, casting her in a half-shadow that only sharpens the piercing gray eyes staring back at her. 

A smirk plays at her lips, and she leans in, resting her elbow on the counter with a relaxed yet predatory air. 

“Straight to business. I respect that,” she says, chuckling softly as she swirls the liquid in her glass. 

“My friends call me Whitney,” she continues, pausing to take a slow, deliberate sip before setting it down on the counter with a soft clink.

“My enemies? They know me as Madame Masque.” 

Her voice drops as she tilts her head, gray eyes narrowing. 

“So…which do you believe you are, Miss Black Widow?”

Natasha catches the faint edge in her words when she says her title, half-mocking with a hint of hostility that’s barely disguised. 

It’s clear this woman has her own thoughts about who Natasha is. 

“Seems you’ve already made that decision yourself,” Natasha says pointedly.

Whitney lets out a short chuckle as her fingers tap against the counter as if contemplating whether her statement is true or not.

Natasha’s gaze flicks down to the counter at her action before drifting to where a familiar device rests.

Your phone. 

Whitney’s eyes follow Natasha’s line of sight, her hand reaching over to take the phone. She handles it with a casual, almost mocking nonchalance that makes Natasha’s blood simmer as she’s reminded of how she doesn’t know your whereabouts. 

As if reading Natasha’s thoughts, Whitney’s lips curve into a taunting smile. 

“Don’t worry, she’s safe,” she says smoothly, raising the phone and pointing it toward Natasha. Her eyes glint with dark amusement. “But tell me, how much do you really know about her to care?” 

Natasha’s eyes narrow, her jaw clenching slightly as she meets Whitney’s gaze, holding back the irritation clawing at her composure. 

“I know enough.” 

Whitney’s laugh is soft, laced with an air of superiority. 

“Enough?” she echoes, as if savoring the word, rolling it around in her mouth with condescension. 

She brings the phone up to her lips, brushing them lightly on the edge as if placing a delicate kiss.

“That’s nothing compared to who I am to her,” she purrs, her gaze locked onto Natasha’s, a challenge in her expression. 

Natasha frowns slightly at the implication, piecing together the hints of what sort of relationship you and this woman may have shared. Though, she doesn’t let the idea shake her composure.

“Funny,” Natasha counters, her tone ice-cold. “You say you’re so important, yet she’s never mentioned you. Not even once.”

The barb hits its mark. 

Whitney’s smirk falters, just for a split second, before her expression hardens, her grip tightening on the phone. 

Her gaze sharpens with a flash of anger, but she recovers, her voice dropping to a dangerous, low murmur.

“Careful,” she warns, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “People have disappeared for less.”

Natasha meets her gaze head-on, the threat passing over her like a breeze. 

The silence stretches between them, tense and unyielding. 

Then, as if suddenly bored of the exchange, Whitney tosses the phone across the counter. 

Natasha catches it effortlessly, not breaking eye contact.

“However,” Whitney says, standing up smoothly and tossing her hair back over her shoulder, “That is not the purpose of this meeting.” 

Her posture shifts, deliberate and commanding, as she steps closer. 

Whitney’s presence fills the space between them, a wall of cold authority. Her gaze bears down on Natasha, sharp and assessing.

“This is your only warning—a courtesy if you will,” she continues, her tone chilling in its calculated calm. “In recognition of the…friendship you shared with her during her time away from my side.” 

Her words are laced with a venomous undertone, and her eyes narrow, each syllable cutting with a precision that makes her intentions painfully clear.  

“Stay away from my business,” Whitney demands, her voice dropping into a steely edge. “And stay away from her.”

The threat hangs heavy in the air, but Natasha remains calm, her expression steadfast. Underneath, though, a flicker irritation stirs in her chest.

It’s not the words themselves that bother her—it’s the way Whitney carries herself, the way she exudes control, as if she owns you. That smug arrogance, that predatory assumption of power over someone else’s life, is something Natasha knows all too well.

She’s spent her entire early life under the thumb of people like Whitney, people who believed they had the right to decide her fate.

Natasha recognizes the pattern instantly, and the familiarity sets her teeth on edge.

“She can make her own choices,” Natasha counters, her tone calm but firm, a subtle steel threading through her words.

Whitney’s lips curl into a slow, knowing smile. There’s something predatory in the way her gaze lingers like she’s savoring an unseen advantage. 

She arches a brow, her response almost mocking.

“Yes,” she says smoothly, “and tell me, whose bed did she choose to sleep in tonight?”

Even though Natasha sees through the obvious attempt to provoke her, her fingers still tighten instinctively around the sleek metal of the phone, the only outward sign of her restraint. Her jaw sets, the tension visible in the small but deliberate motion. 

Whitney catches the reaction, and the satisfaction in her expression is unmistakable. Her smirk widens as though confirming a victory. 

Without waiting for a response, she pivots on her heel and strides confidently toward the door, her heels clicking in the silence. 

At the threshold, she pauses, glancing back over her shoulder. Her voice drops to a whisper, low and laced with a chilling sweetness.

“You should forget about her,” Whitney murmurs, her eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. “Or else…she’ll hurt you even more than she already has.”

The words twist in the air, lingering like smoke long after Whitney disappears into the night.

Natasha remains seated in the dimly lit bar, the emptiness pressing in around her. 

As much as she tries to brush it off, Whitney’s parting shot reverberates in her mind, a shadow that clings to her thoughts, refusing to disappear.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

It’s early morning by the time Natasha finally makes it back to your apartment. She slips in through the front door, her steps weary, her mind weighed down by the revelations of the night. 

As she enters, her boot bumps into the bowl she’d left for Widow, the water still untouched and the food uneaten. 

Natasha’s frown deepens as her concern shifts to the little cat. 

The absence of any sound or movement from Widow sends a flicker of unease through her. 

Moving quickly to the couch where she left her, Natasha feels her stomach twist as she sees Widow, lying in the same spot, seemingly untouched by the passing hours. 

But as Natasha leans in closer, worry edges into panic. She notices how shallow the little cat’s breathing has become, her tiny body rising and falling with only the faintest of movements. 

Natasha kneels beside the couch, reaching a hand to gently stroke Widow’s back, calling her name softly. 

“Widow?” Her voice is tentative, hoping for any sign of life, any flicker of response.

But there’s nothing. 

Widow doesn’t stir or twitch, only the faintest breaths giving away the fact that she’s even alive. 

Panic surges in Natasha’s chest, and without hesitation, she carefully lifts Widow into her arms. 

The cat remains limp, her tiny body almost weightless, as Natasha cradles her close, rushing toward the door and heading straight for the nearest emergency vet clinic. 

In the waiting area, Natasha’s leg bounces with anxious energy, her fingers wringing together as she stares at the clinic doors. 

Every time a nurse or doctor passes by, she looks up, her heart in her throat, hoping for news about Widow’s condition. 

The minutes crawl by, and then hours, the feeling of helplessness pressing down on her with each passing second. 

Finally, a voice calls out. “Ms. Romanoff?” 

Natasha stands instantly, her gaze meeting the veterinarian’s. 

The vet’s eyes widen for a moment, recognizing her.

“Oh, wow, it really is you,” the vet mutters, then clears her throat, refocusing and offering a small, sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry—I meant to say, your cat is stable now.” 

“She’s not actually my…” Natasha begins to clarify, but then thinks better of it, shaking her head. “What was wrong with her?”

The vet gives her a curious look but remains professional as she continues. 

“We gave her some fluids for the dehydration. Other than that, there doesn’t appear to be anything physically wrong. Her lack of movement was likely due to severe exhaustion and lack of energy.” She pauses and studies Natasha for a moment. “Has she shown any changes in eating habits recently? A loss of appetite?”

Natasha nods, the previous day playing back in her mind. 

“She wouldn’t eat or drink anything yesterday,” she admits, her voice tinged with guilt.

The vet shakes her head. 

“That’s not good for cats, especially one her size. Going without food or water for even a day can lead to complications—some of them severe—if it continues. Has there been anything recently that might have caused her stress? Emotional factors can have a significant impact on animals.” 

Natasha exhales deeply, her chest tightening.

“I might have an idea,” she says, her voice quieter.

The vet nods, offering a small, reassuring smile. 

“That’s good. Addressing the source of her stress is key. Cats are incredibly resilient, but the sooner she feels safe and secure again, the faster she’ll recover. She’s stable now, but we’ll keep monitoring her for the next few hours. After that, she’ll be ready to go home.”

“Okay,” Natasha murmurs, her voice tight with relief.

Sitting back down, Natasha releases a deep breath, a mixture of relief and lingering worry filling her chest. 

The most likely reason for Widow’s condition would be your sudden absence and the overwhelming sense of abandonment the little cat must be feeling. 

If Natasha wants to truly help her, she knows she’ll have to find you—and fast.

But that’s already a difficult task. She doesn’t even know where to start, especially now that she can no longer reach you.

She pulls out your phone, the screen lighting up with a photo of you and Widow, a rare moment captured in happier times. 

A soft, sad smile tugs at her lips as she studies the image, but it quickly fades as determination takes over.

Natasha swipes through the phone, scrolling through messages, contacts, and any notes that might give her a lead. 

As her focus sharpens, a small notification banner suddenly drops from the top of the screen—a reminder. 

Natasha’s brow furrows as she reads it, her instincts and training automatically kicking in. Her eyes narrow as she considers the information. 

It’s a long shot, but it’s her only lead.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha remains hidden in the shadows, her eyes fixed on the building across the street. The crisp night air chills her skin, but she doesn’t waver. 

Hours of waiting finally pay off as she spots a figure emerging from a rooftop window, their movements precise and practiced.

Natasha’s breath catches as she recognizes the silhouette.

You move with fluid grace, scaling down the side of the building as if you’ve done this a hundred times before. Blending seamlessly into the night, you pause briefly on the ground, scanning your surroundings. 

Natasha watches and follows intently, her heartbeat quickening. She takes a steadying breath and steps out of the shadows.

“Hey, can we talk?” she calls, her voice low but firm.

You whip around, your body immediately tensing as your eyes meet hers. 

Surprise flickers across your face for a split second, but it’s quickly replaced by a guarded, hardened expression. 

Without a word, you turn on your heel and dart into a nearby alley. 

“Damn it,” Natasha mutters, breaking into a sprint after you. Her boots hit the pavement in a steady rhythm, her heart pounding as she pushes herself to keep up. 

She can’t lose you—not again.

“Wait!” she yells, her voice echoing through the narrow streets. 

But you don’t stop. 

You dart through the labyrinth of the city’s back alleys, vaulting over debris, slipping into tight corners, and using every trick in your arsenal to stay ahead. 

Natasha grits her teeth, frustration mounting as the gap between you grows.

Just when it seems like you might disappear into the night again, Natasha yells, desperation seeping into her voice. 

“It’s Widow! She’s sick!” 

The words stop you dead in your tracks. You skid to a halt, spinning around to face her. Disbelief and fury war on your face as you close the distance in a blur of motion. 

Before Natasha can react, you slam into her, knocking her off her feet. The impact sends her sprawling onto the pavement, the air forced from her lungs. 

You’re on top of her in an instant, pinning her down with your weight. Your knees trap her legs, and your hands grip her wrists, holding her firmly against the cold ground. 

“What did you do to her?” you demand, your voice low and intense. Your face hovers inches above hers, anger radiating from you. Your eyes bore into hers, alight with fury and something deeper—fear. 

Natasha’s breath catches as she processes the sudden shift, but her calm never wavers. 

“I didn’t—”

“I can’t believe you’d do something like this!” you snap, cutting her off. “Hurting her just to get to me!” Your voice rises with each word, the accusation stinging like venom, your emotions boiling over into your words. 

Natasha struggles against your hold, her frustration mounting. 

“Listen to me!” she bites back, her tone firm despite the compromising position. “I didn’t hurt her! She’s sick because she won’t eat or drink anything since you disappeared!”

Your grip falters slightly, confusion flickering across your face. Natasha seizes the moment, her voice softening but retaining its urgency.

“She thinks you abandoned her,” Natasha says before continuing, her tone quieter but no less resolute. “She misses you.”

Your fingers loosen their hold on her wrists, the anger in your eyes giving way to guilt and vulnerability.

Slowly, you push yourself back, but instead of moving off her entirely, you remain seated atop her, your posture easing into something less confrontational as the tension between you softens.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair. The bitterness in your voice is evident as a hollow chuckle escapes your lips. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I forgot…you’re not the kind of person who would do something like that.”

Natasha props herself up on her elbows, her sharp gaze still studying you, though the edge in her eyes has softened.

“But Whitney is,” she says evenly, her words carrying a pointed weight. 

Your eyes snap to hers, widening slightly.

“How do you know about her?” you ask, your tone shifting to one of shock and apprehension. 

Natasha sighs at the memory of her encounter with Whitney, slightly regretting bringing the woman into the conversation.

She hesitates, but before she can answer, her gaze flickers to where you’re still straddling her, pinning her in place.

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, a spark of mischief breaking through the lingering tension. 

“You know,” she drawls, her voice teasing as she tries to lighten the mood, “if you’re planning to keep me in this position much longer, at least buy me dinner first.” 

The unexpected quip catches you off guard. For a moment, her words hang in the air before a soft laugh escapes you, easing the remaining tension.

Natasha feels her heart quicken at the sound and the shift in your expression, relieved to see the shadow of a smile on your face, even if it might be fleeting.

But then your smirk returns, playful and familiar, as you lean down slightly, closing the space between you, your face hovering just above hers.

“Does this affect you that much, Miss Black Widow?” you ask, your voice lowering as you draw out her title, teasing her the way you often do. 

Natasha’s breath catches, her heart practically pounding now.

Unconsciously, she leans closer, her lips parting slightly. Her gaze flickers to your mouth, lingering for just a fraction of a second too long as she remembers the last time those lips had touched hers.

Something in her gaze must have surprised you as your eyes widen slightly, as if just noticing the intensity of how she looks at you and seeing the possible depth and truth of her feelings for you.

The realization shakes you, bringing you out of the moment. Blinking, you pull back quickly, the teasing edge in your expression vanishing as the weight of the realization sinks in.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, your voice quieter now, though even you aren’t sure what you’re apologizing for—crossing a line, or simply acknowledging what you cannot reciprocate right now.

You lean back and plant your hands on the ground behind you to give her space.

Natasha blinks, as though snapping out of her own thoughts, and shifts slightly, reclaiming her composure as she remembers the boundaries you’ve placed between yourself and her.

Her expression flickers briefly, something unreadable passing over her face, before she clears her throat.

She sits up smoothly, brushing off her arms and legs as if the act might rid her of any lingering emotions.

“It’s okay,” she says quietly, her voice steady, though there’s a faint undercurrent of something unsaid, something painful.

You shift back further, leaning on your hands for support, as you exhale deeply, rubbing the back of your neck.

“How do you know about Whitney?” you ask again, this time quieter, more cautious.

“We talked,” Natasha says, her tone neutral but pointed. “She made it pretty clear how much she doesn’t like me meddling in her business…or with you.”

A shadow crosses your expression, and you let out a low sigh, your gaze flickering between her and the ground. 

“She shouldn’t have done that,” you mutter.

Natasha tilts her head, studying you carefully as she wonders about your relationship with the woman. She pushes herself to her feet and steps closer, her gaze locking with yours as she reaches her hand out to you. 

“Come back with me, please,” she says after a moment. “Widow needs you.”

You hesitate, the conflicting emotions playing out on your face, but Natasha holds your gaze, steady and unwavering.

Finally, your hand raises tentatively toward hers. 

But before you can close the gap, a sharp kick slams into Natasha’s side, sending her stumbling back. She rolls to her feet smoothly, her sharp gaze snapping at her attacker.

“I thought I told you to keep your hands to yourself,” a voice warns coolly.

Natasha straightens, brushing herself off as she locks eyes with Whitney.

The woman strides forward with predatory grace, pulling you to your feet. 

You avoid Natasha’s gaze as Whitney wraps her arms around you from behind, her chin resting possessively on your shoulder.

“She’s mine,” Whitney finishes, her tone dangerously low, laced with a chilling confidence.

Natasha’s lips press into a thin line, her green eyes narrowing. 

“For someone so confident in that fact, you seem awfully insecure whenever I’m near,” she says, her words meant to provoke the woman.

Whitney’s expression hardens, her gray eyes flashing with anger. She makes a move toward Natasha, but you turn in her arms, placing a firm hand on her shoulder to stop her. 

Your other hand gently tilts her face toward yours, redirecting her attention.

“You promised you wouldn’t,” you whisper, your tone calm but firm. You lean in, pressing your forehead lightly against hers, as if grounding her.

Natasha’s chest tightens at the sight, an unfamiliar sting of pain settling in her heart. Her hands clench at her sides as she watches the exchange, feeling both helpless and infuriated.

Whitney holds your gaze for a long moment. Finally, she sighs, her lips curving into a slight smirk as her eyes flick toward Natasha. She seems to notice Natasha’s clenched fists, her smirk deepening.

“See?” Whitney says lightly, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “I told you she’d only hurt you.”

Your eyes flash with a pained expression at her words. Still, you refuse to meet Natasha’s gaze.

With that, Whitney pulls you closer, turning to lead you away, leaving Natasha standing in the shadows.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

a/n: I know, updates on both series in the same week surprises me too, it probably won’t happen too often but we’ll see. Again, thanks for reading!

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it or if the tag did not work for you, please let me know.

Taglist : @cd-4848, @carifletchersgirl, @skittlebum, @queen-of-chaotic-surprises, @ima-gi--na-tion, @rainix13, @gay4hotmilfs, @imaginexred, @2silverchain, @nowthisisliving27, @waltermis, @scarlettbitchx, @self-indulgent-writer, @ashadash0904, @alowint, @littlyamadeus, @so-to-aqui-pelas-fic, @imthenatynat, @transparentflapfarmsludge, @natashasilverfox, @mousetheorist, @btay3115, @samfunko, @wandaromamoff69, @lost-in-the-ice, @ahsatanizgay, @stonemags, @karsonromanoff, @wandanatlov3r, @l1kepeps1cvla, @esposadejoyhuerta, @fxckmiup, @panickedbabygay, @esposadejoyhuerta, @azaleavolkova, @gay4wandanat, @escapereality4music, @caspianalexander007, @henkermen, @caramelcat123

[dumpywrites]

Wanna See My Cat? - Min Yoongi / Suga

Prompt: “Do you wanna see my cat?” You're not actually lying but he thinks it's a sexual innuendo.

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, situationship-ish

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

a/n: I was contemplating on whether to actually add smut to this but I decided not to cause it's cuter this way and I think we could all agree there're plenty of bts smut but not enough fluff here! :D

Situationship was a funny concept. Either you commit or not, that was what you believed. Which was why you were not precisely proud to say that you was now in fact in one. 

In your defense it had only been what, three? Four weeks? A month or so? Min Yoongi was this nice guy your acquaintance introduced you to. Gentle, could be hilarious when he wanted to, and cute. Although he could be a little emotionless at times, mostly he was a really sweet guy and you liked him a lot. In your other defense, you did not believe what you had with him could be called as a situationship. It was just what your friends had been teasing you about. 

In the whole time of knowing him, you had been to total of three dates. The first being a casual “are you free for dinner after work?” kinda date, second a movie date, and third being a very chill cafe date. And in your opinion, you enjoyed all of them, you had the greatest of time chatting and spending quality time with him. But your friend kept teasing you otherwise. 

Apparently your dates were considered too boring, too innocent for today’s dating world standard. You had not even had your first kiss yet and one of your friends was already asking about his size. Evidently, wanting to take things slow was a crime nowadays and you were lowkey getting annoyed. 

Today though, your park date was cancelled due to the rain. You kept cursing to yourself at home when you saw Yoongi’s text telling you to do a literal rain check, seeing the thunderstorm. The outfit that you bought especially for the occasion failed to see the outside world. 

As you stood in front of the mirror, seeing the reflection gave you a weird idea. A small Siamese cat walking past your feet, meowing adorably. Your pet cat, Zuko. A cat whose existence wasn’t known by Yoongi yet. The lightbulb above your head lightened up. 

“Do you wanna see my cat?” You sent the text. 

**

Yoongi texted you to let you know that he had arrived at your place. You recalled last time he picked you up it took him around fifteen minutes but this time he only took ten. You wondered what made him arrive a lot quicker. 

You were giddy with excitement and took a screenshot to tell your friend. Instead of being excited and giddy for you, your friend sent a bunch of side-eye emojis. Well, they could be just teasing you but the chat bubble following afterwards had you wondering. 

“Woo! Give me a rating score later!!!” 

You crooked your head in confusion, but there was no time to ponder on your friend’s riddle when Yoongi was already waiting for you to open the front door. 

“Hey.”

That hey definitely did not have to sound that deep and hot. You had to gulped your saliva down upon seeing him in his comfortable clothes. Since when did wearing sweatpants and baggy t-shirt looked so good? And did he just had his hair cut or was it just you? So many questions pilling up in your head. 

You knew it was game over when he went in for a hug. Heavenly was the only words you could use to describe his smell. It was a mixture of his shampoo and his laundry detergent, and his intoxicating smell. It seemed like he didn’t even use any perfume. 

“What should we eat?” You said while smiling giddily. 

“I’m kinda craving some instant ramen?” He looked at you while lifting a shopping bag filled with a few packets of noodles. 

Your eyes beamed. “That sounds really nice actually with the weather and all.” 

“Alright cool.” He nodded. “Let’s cook?”

Yoongi was being extra touchy. You were boiling the water and he would swiftly grab the chopsticks in front of you from behind, making you feel his chest. You fully knew well that he could easily grab the utensils without doing that, but for some reason the demons were working hard at the moment. He even leaned his chin over your shoulder as you were chopping some sausages. At this point he could be doing it on purpose for all you knew. 

He did not stop when you both started to eat. From the smooth wiping your lips from food to feeding you. Who was this person and what had he done to Yoongi you might never know. 

Right after washing the dishes and escaping a few of Yoongi’s teases, you both chilled on the sofa. As you browsed through Netflix, you could sense him scooting closer to you. You could feel his body warmth that automatically made yours grew hotter as well. 

“What are we watching?” He asked with a husky voice. By this point he was hugging your waist and rested his body weight on you. 

“I was thinking some action? You love those right?”

“I do.” 

You paused. Why was the tone of his voice sounded slightly off and why was he looking at you funnily?

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He broke into a small smile. “Nothing.”

“Stop or I’ll make you watch Puss in Boots!” You whined. 

And then it hit you. The cat! You were too busy being swayed, head in the clouds, fantasizing, that you forgot why he was initially visiting you in your apartment.

“My cat!” You exclaimed loudly, which made Yoongi jumped and sat back up from his position. 

You missed the look of confusion in Yoongi’s face as you ran quickly to your room to pick up the furball in your bedroom. 

“I can’t believe I forgot about him!” You chuckled with your pet now in your arms. “He doesn’t like roaming around, he mostly sleeps in my room.”

Yoongi just looked at you, quizzically. As if he could not believe his eyes. 

“Meet Zuko!” You smiled, proudly showing your cat. “Zuko, meet Yoongi.” You giggled and shoved the cat to the man’s hands. 

He stared at the cat blankly for a good few seconds before gently petting the creature’s head. 

“Uh, hi.” He said, sounding lightly awkward. “He’s actually really cute.”

“I know right!” You grinned. “Do you wanna hold him?”

“Sure.” He said, sounding a little unsure. 

The man sat down with your cat on his lap, slowly stroking the soft white fur of its tiny body. You bent down, sat on the carpet on his knee level to pet the cat. Somehow seeing you smile lovingly at the cat made Yoongi’s lips curled into a soft smile as well. 

“You’re adorable.” Yoongi said. 

“He’s the cutest cat, I know.”

“No, I mean you.” 

“Oh.” You shyly looked away, hoping the nervous giggles did not give it away. “Thank you.” 

Yoongi chuckled and huffed a sigh. “I can’t believe there’s actually a cat.”

“Huh?” You crooked your head to the side, wondering what the guy meant by that. “Of course there is? What do you mean?”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He laughed. “You don’t know?”

“Uh, no?” 

He ruffled your hair and laughed again, this time a little bit louder than before. You were still stunned, too confused to process when he quickly pulled you in and kissed your forehead. Suddenly you did not want to protest about how messy he just made your hair. 

“It’s alright, maybe next time.” 

You covered your face with both of your palms.  “What’s with you today?!” You said with your hands still covering your face. 

“I like you.” He shrugged. “Might not be the most animated guy out there so I’m just letting you know.”

“Yeah, which is why I’m so confused with you today???” You said with flushed face. “Oh my god, that’s not the point though! I like you too!”

He chuckled. “Let’s just get back to the movie?”

The vibe after that conversation calmed down. Maybe it was the whole letting-the-cat-out-of-the-bag thing on your feelings making the air less thick. You ended up just cuddling, snuggling to each other while watching The Notebook. You both hated romance movies, but somehow finished the entire movie anyway after you misclicked it in the first place. It was nice and warm being in Yoongi’s arms and you were afraid you wouldn’t want to ever let go. 

And it was finally time for him to go home. Crazy how you did not notice the time went by so fast. Heck, you didn’t even notice the screen was already playing another movie. How could you when Yoongi was caressing your hair ever so gently? Goodness gracious. 

“Hey, I have to go now. Meeting in an hour, remember?” He tapped your shoulder. 

“I’m not letting you go.” You whined, hugging him tighter. 

He laughed. “Silly, I can come again tomorrow.”

You sat back up and looked at him. “Really???”

“I mean yeah, you don’t have work on Sunday, right?” He smiled. “If you want to, that is.”

“I want to.” You giggled. 

He flashed his gummy smile one more time before getting up from your couch. You walked with him to the door and waited for him to grab his jacket. The whole time you were stalling, asking him the most random questions, and made the silliest remarks. You just didn’t want him to go home yet, especially after finding out that he liked you too. 

“As much as I’d love to talk more about how much I disliked the whole education system, I really have to go now.” He chuckled. 

“Okay.” You pouted. You watched as he got up from tying his shoelaces. 

He huffed a sigh and smiled. “Come closer.”

You did as told without thinking and in a quick seconds, somehow you were pulled into a soft kiss. It was a soft peck and you could feel his smile through it. He didn’t gave you a chance to react as he swiftly let go. 

“See you tomorrow?” 

“Come on…” You whined again and covered your face in awkwardness, and he could only laugh at you. “Go! Before I lock you up!”

“I’ll text you.” He waved and you finally closed your door. 

You found yourself giggling and smiling to yourself like an idiot. This was new. Whatever in the fresh hell was that, you couldn’t lie to yourself that you were into this somewhat bold and flirty side of him. 

You casually walked back to your couch and switched the tv to youtube. As you let random science podcast video play, you decided to check your phone, realizing you had not text your friend back yet. 

“What do you mean by giving a score?”

Your friend replied almost too immediately. You were shocked to see the usage of caps lock. 

“YOU DON’T KNOW??????!!!!! WTF???”

“Okay, explain?????”

“Poor Yoongi has to deal with your dumbass 😔” 

“Shut up 🖕🖕🖕”

“It’s a code. You say that instead of asking to come over and have sex. Basically the new netflix and chill.”

“… okay. OKAY???!!!!!!”

“Bestie, did something happen though??? 😍”

“SO THAT’S WHY HE TOLD ME HE WAS SURPRISED THAT THERE WAS ACTUALLY A CAT???? OMFGGGGGG!!!!!! ASFDKSPSKSG 😭😭😭”

You put down your phone to muffle your tiny scream with your knuckles. You recalled him mentioning a next time. Then you also recalled him wanting to come over again tomorrow. Needless to say, it was finally time to let out that one cute underwear you had been keeping in your drawer for months.

Thank you for reading! 🐈‍⬛💕

[yunnimilk]

,, ! 𑁍ࠬ ܓ | ; AMAB ! Osamu Dazai x Bot ! AMAB ! Reader !

𝜗𝜚 kinks / tags ! ; creampie, overstimulation, belly bulge, teasing, oral sex [ dazai receiving ], thigh riding [ just for a bit ], slight degradation and a lot of praise, light feminization [ I call readers underwear "panties" ONCE and Dazai calls them princess ]

𝜗𝜚 . . | ; short oneshot / : cw ; none actually, just the fact that Dazai is probably OOC since I was really focusing on the smut part and that you both are drunk , reader has no masculine or feminine pronouns but they have AMAB language

ᥫ᭡. SUMMARY ; you and dazai are at a beach house, next to a glistening body of water. It was your honeymoon, suddenly, you guys had too much wine on the beach, leading you two having a fruitful night ~

NSFW UNDER THE CUT !!

Wine glasses clasping together for "cheers" the alcoholic liquid inside almost spilt from the motion. Dazai wouldn't consider wine to be one of his favorite drinks, but it was nice to sit back and relax while his newly-wedded spouse was next to him. The honeymoon was simple yet very beautiful, getting closer to your new husband for about a week, cherishing these little moments for him ,

Sipping from the wine glass, the beverage tasted amazing, it was most likely fertilized from the 1800's, better as the years went by. Your fingers interlock with Dazai's as you both talk the night away, you got more tipsy, but Dazai didn't feel anything yet, he was more of a heavyweight after all .

The sun was setting, your skin was kissed by the sun from the yellow-orangish hue, it complimented it well, making the undertone a warmer orange. The water reflected a string of light because of the peachy sun, the waves crashing apon the high rocks you and Dazai were sitting on, turning nothing into little sudsy bubbles as they retracted from the stone walls. It was quite the sight, barely anyone comes to this part of the sea, it's perfect ,

After a while, you couldn't keep up with Dazai, he only startes becoming a bit drunk, you were almost completely intoxicated. You clung onto his body, panting like a dog .

"mm.. when did you get so drunk, sweetheart,, ?"

"shh...shu..shuddup.. mm.."

When you tried to speak, it came out as babbles, even when you were coherent it was just slurred speech. Dazai can't help but tease you !

Dazai stroked your hair, having a false sense of empathy for you, degrading you like it was funny ,

"you've only had a glass of wine, are you getting tipsy this easily? aww my poor baby.. ~"

He has his leg in-between your thighs, you couldn't take it, his limb slightly grazing your hardening cock and simulating your balls, grinding on it, basically riding it. It feels so good, your dick was drooling on Dazai's pants, forming a wet spot on it. To Dazai, this was the best view♡

"a..- ahh! ~ fuhh.. fuuhhck.. ~"

Dazai started to bounce his leg up and down, you accidentally fell foward from the intense pleasure. Your hole started clenching on nothing, it felt like it was leaking, you were so close to coming. It was like electricity coursing through your veins, you moaned like a pornstar, thankfully, no one was around .

Your cock was twitching uncontrollably, Dazai could felt it rutting against his leg. you wrapped your arms around Dazai's neck, moaning in his ear, he would've been lying if that didn't make him rock hard. grabbing your hips, making you go faster while you let out the loudest and breathless moans, tears streaming down your cheeks as you felt your hole tightening up and you came unrestrainedly, soiling your panties ,

You collapsed on top of Dazai, puffing out little moans as you tried to recover from the aftershocks .

"we're still not done, I still haven't came yet, and you left me all hard, princess.. ~"

He's quick to remove your underwear, seeing a sticky white slime connecting from your cock to your undergarments. the cool air hitting your dick, making you shiver, you can feel your cum traveling down your balls to your quivering hole, ahh you just looked so pathetically adorable in his eyes ~

"ouhh.. look at that, you've stained yourself, your so unbelievably messy, princess. You couldn't even control yourself ~"

You let out a painful whine, he chuckled at the noise. he reached down to kiss your neck and suck on it until it turned a deep purple, tingles went to your dick as he bit down on your shoulder, and your hips jerked up ,

"ah ah ah.. easy there, I'll fuck you in a second"

"puh..- puhlease!~ ah, nghh ~"

Dazai arose his head up, he enjoying how pitiful you looked. Too bad that you were going to look more fucked out as he drives his meaty cock inside of you ♡

Fortunately, he decided to have mercy, he unzipped his pants. You perked up as you heard the sound, he giggles at your reaction. He pulls down his underwear to only spring out his hard, wet, cock out. You were salivating while looking at his meat slab, you were basically like a bear viewing cow beef .

He rested his cock on your hip, right next to your dick. Dazai looked through his coat pocket to find lube, it was strawberry scented !

"ah! there it is! ~"

He took out the lube and squirted it everywhere on your lower body, rubbing it sensually, making you get worked up and already producing pre-cum. Dazai was getting extremely horny, and didn't prep you, but he wouldn't immediately thrust into you, as he'd hurt you in doing so ,

He jerked himself a bit before actually entering you, but when he did, it felt so good. Your tightness was gripping the head of Dazai's cock, he was groaning in your neck. It took so much to not plunge himself in and out of your slick heat. You started to grind onto his cock, feeling it touch your prostate, which also sent lighting shocks in your body .

"mnh..~ that fast..?~ ah..h..~ alright, I'll give you what you want ~"

He started to piston himself in and out of your squelching hole. He saw the belly bulge poking out of your stomach, he pressed on that spot, your back immediately arching, screaming out his name. the force of his thrusts brought you closer and closer to your orgasm. you push back onto him, Dazai couldn't stop ramming his cock into your velvety walls ,

He was humping you like a bunny, you felt your prostate kept getting abused, trying to milk you dry. His fat dick was filling you up so well, you can feel how good he was fucking you, rearranging your guts. Your soft hole clenching and unclenching, squeezing Dazai's cock until he cums inside of you .

You were reaching your climax, and Dazai knew that, so he went faster and faster until the only movement you did was rapidly moving up and down his meaty cock, getting more desperate to squirt out your cum ,

"A..AH! ~ FUCK! 'SAMU, I- I'M GOING TO! -"

"mng! agh! fuck! me too! ~"

You came like a waterfall leaked out of your cock, strings of cum accidentally landed on your face. Dazai didn't stop, he was so close, he almost came just from the feeling of your walls clamping down on his dick. He felt his balls tighting and his cock twitching inside your convulsing heat .

"I think you can handle one more round, right, princess?"

"wh- angh! ~"

plap, plap, plap

how long has it been? it feels like he's been doing this forever

You couldn't come anymore, the times that you 'came' didn't let you gush out your sticky liquid. You officially had a dry orgasm, multiple times, and Dazai kept covering you with cum and filling you up with cum ,

"Dazaim... puhlease! I canmt cum anymowe! ~"

"ah- ahh.. s-sorry! I just can't..! ~"

Dazai started cumming again but kept thrusting, not letting go of your hip. strings of your cum and his trying to connect your ass cheek to his hips when he retracts his cock. Your balls were so sore, along with your asshole. You could tell that Dazai was getting tired, his thrusting has gotten slower .

"just one more time, mnh! please? ~"

Even though he asked you, he still kept on burying his dick in your hole, stretching it and imprinting his shape in your guts. Your legs were shaking, they were going completely numb !

You felt his fat cock spasming again, he made sure to be super rough when he finished his last orgasm, making you cum for the 6th time this night. Your teary, red eyes rolled back while you stuck your tongue out, you gave one last arch when Dazai stroked your dick ,

"angh! fuhck! fuckfuck itfeelssofuckinggood! ~"

Dazai released his seed in you once again, his cum trailed down your hole and your thighs, it took courage for him not to fuck you again. Although, he got hard again, seeing your cockdrunk expression did a number on him .

"hey, how 'bout you suck me off? pleaseee!! "

You sat up, with the help of Dazai since you were struggling through the pain. Little grunts left your mouth as you were face with Dazai's cock, your hot breath made his dick fully stand up. Experimenting with it by giving the head tiny kitten licks then fully deepthroating him, gargling sounds and Dazai's moaning could be heard from a 12 mile radius. Gripping your hair then forcefully moving you up and down like a sex doll ,

"agh, baby! you're doing so.. good! ah! ~"

He pushed your head directly infront of his pubic hair, the moans that you let out sent vibrations on Dazai's cock, you could smell the sweat collecting on it, and you can taste the salty cum intruding your throat. The man above you pats your head .

"you did so well, princess ~"

[thehistoriangirl]

If You Hadn't Left (Me) [Chapter 2]

I live!!!

Viktor x Fem! Reader-----2.1K----SFW

// M A S T E R L I S T

<- Previous Next ->

Synopsis:Viktor was never supposed to see you again, just like you had promised that evening when you both ended up heartbroken and bitter toward destiny and all its twisted ways. So twisted as to put you back into his life not only as a temporal working partner to cover Jayce’s absences, but also as the maid of honor in the wedding where he’ll be the best man. Hypothetically, it doesn’t have to be that difficult to find a way around the river of memories flowing between you both. Though, of course, hypotheses are flawed. Just like that part of him that still craves another ending to this story. 

Chapter Summary: People say things look better under a new light. But once you step inside Viktor's lab, Viktor discovers that the view isn't just striking, but also very troublesome.

Tags: Second Chance | Angst | Exes to Lovers | Denial of Feelings | Viktor's pinning | Reader is pissed | | Eventual Smut | Eventual Happy Ending |

Taglist: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @syren201 @slycazzz @jourlinemaktan @seraceres @m1dnight-artisan

Viktor was no stranger to sleepless nights.

Most of them could be excused by incessant workload lined up on his desk in the form of blueprints and pages filled with scribbles of ink where equations hadn’t resolved in a positive way.

It wasn’t about rushing thoughts of the future looming over his shoulder either; the time when his conscience whispered that he couldn’t be good enough. That he’d never be, as progress is a fleeting, moody thing.

What an unbreakable riddle were you. Your words haunted him; your kiss… soared his heart. Guiltily so; flown at the past he promised couldn’t revisit. And not only because digging out the tender flesh already buried would mean expose the wound again, risking of bleeding out.

I want to be the Interior Design’ Teacher at the Architecture Faculty.

He laid in his bed, covers barely thrown open, his mind filled with the million possibilities about the future, once hopeful and bright with all the new inventions he could create with Hextech, to the one where he had to walk carefully across campus to not take a glimpse of you passing by.

Get over it, get over it.

He wished it’d be so easy. Guilt gnawed at him, now already broken free from the depths of the drawer where he kept your photo. The ring he never gave you, that he’d been fool enough not to return. A treacherous mind he had, repeating old routines as his personal condemn.

Sighing, he incorporated at the edge of the bed. Pitch darkness looked back from every corner of the quiet room. His fingers grabbed the handle of his crutch, the familiar leather creaked under his unrelenting grasp once he hauled himself up.

He should have left right away, as he did when the strain in his muscles didn’t allow him any rest. But something stopped him.

His reflection in the mirror showed what he most tried to hide. Deep eyebags, messy hair, wrinkly clothes.

Viktor didn’t wish to give you reasons as to think he was so unkept because of you. Because he wasn’t—it was only a bad night sleep. Not the first and either the last.

Groaning, he took the dubious decision to bathe in the middle of the night. Seeking the refuge of the cold water to calm the cascade of thoughts sieging him. It was like any other day back at the Academy, when he was Heimerdinger’s assistant. Time had gone backwards.

Replaced rolled up dress-shirt’s sleeves with proper cufflinks. His creamy vest now gray with ash and oil stains replaced by a clean one, just as his pants. Untamed hair controlled with luck.

The way back to the lab was calmer at night, with only the cold hitting his face during his journey up the hill. Empty boulevards whose metallic details shone silver against a crescent moon in a clear, starry sky.

He wondered, for a moment where his mind forgot to close the floodgate, if the sky looked the same in the place you had being for the last decade. That—if the tawdriness of those novelists wasn’t tricking him—the moon had watched you built who you were now.

He couldn’t stop the stab of jealousy that coursed through his bones.

The walk cut short after that, dipping his face to the ground until the had to look up toward the guards appointed at the entrance of the research building. A simple nod. At least he didn’t have to break in again, though he thanked those days where lies had flown out his tongue so easily.

Viktor presaged he would need the practice.

*~*~*~*~*~*

At first, he heard the echo of your heels against the desolate hallway.

The familiar whirring mechanism of the door that both Jayce and him had forgotten to oil up.

Then, he must fill the uncomfortable feeling that the lab was shrunk up.

“You’re late.” As an answer, you put a cup of steaming coffee at his left, right where there weren’t any papers that could be stained. “…thank you.”

Finally, he saw you.

A loose, airy blouse and a fancy skirt that hugged your legs up your knees. Perfect for a space this enclosed where the heat of the machine motors warmed it up by noon.

“You can’t wear that,” he stated, meeting your frown with his own. “Where’s your safety equipment?”

“Where’s yours?” you said back, crossing your arms in signal of victory when Viktor got out of excuses.

“I have deep understanding of safety measures in a space such as this, whereas you do not.”

“What? Do you think I’m going to lay on the desk while you tinker with a machine?” You huffed. “Have more faith in me, Viktor.”

You shouldn’t say his name so nonchalantly, especially when Viktor could never mask his reactions to your keen eyes.

“I’m going to attempt to fix this faulty prototype, so you’ll have to wear at least a lab coat if you want to enter the lab.”

“Really now?”

Grunting, Viktor stood up toward the closet at the far left of the room, grabbing two of his coats—because you wouldn’t let him alone if he didn’t abide by his own rules. “Take this one,” he said, throwing you one with his free hand, plopping in the stool back again.

“Don’t you have a smaller one?” He saw you, with the grey clothes almost serving as a robe. One of the sleeves was burned, with a hole the size of the Hexclaw’s laser.

“It’s the only one we have here,” Viktor lied. Well, only a half-truth. Jayce’s clothes wouldn’t fit you, and Sky kept them locked inside her workstation in the annex room.

“Something more I need to wear? Or can you signal me Jayce’s drawing table?” You said instead, leaving your bag at one corner of the hexagonal forge in the middle of the room. Right next to Viktor’s bag where he had shoved the jacket he wore to come here at the dead of night.

“It’s the only one next to the chalkboard.” They shared worktable for all the times Jayce was pondering about designs while Viktor looked at the sketches to make modifications. He had all night to clean it, stacking the papers in Jayce’s desk that wouldn’t be used in a while so you didn’t have another reason to criticize him. “You can use the chalkboard if you want.”

“It’s alright. I’m only drafting planes with the sizes they provided.” You voice sounded absent, muffled once you crouched to lift your map case, getting out your usual tools of mediation, escalimeter, and set squares. The gigantic T ruler, slid smoothly over the worn-out wood. Every movement seemed so easy to emulate, the way your fingers flew across the surface to set the plan in front of you, getting out all kind of pencils that for Viktor looked all the same.

“Do you need something?” Your voice tore him away whatever place his mind was wandering.

“What?”

“You’re staring.”

He blinked, using his left leg to turn the stool around. “Of course I wasn’t,” he snapped, followed by the sound of your unamused hum.

After all, you promised to maintain peace, and so you did during the excruciatingly long morning.

Viktor had his back sore from being hunched down toward a pile of scribbles that made no sense; unconclusive theories and half-done equations. Yet he didn’t dare to look away the paper in front of him, no matter how much his eyes blurred and his muscles ached. He could hear the friction of the pencil against paper, the eraser’s circular motions and the soft blow coming from your lips.

Years ago, all you had was the familiar table at the third story of the library. Next a window so you both tracked the time by the change of light. He still remembered the hues over your hair, like a kaleidoscope. By the time darkness had arrived, he was tugging at your hand over the table to wake you up.

Since when reminiscences sieged him? It was so usual for Piltover to always look toward the future that attempt to look back would endanger one into tripping and being left behind. This felt wrong, stuck in a past that no longer mattered.

You were only classmates, after all.

“This is the design.” Over his numb hands, the paper of your plan was sturdy and rough to stop the abrasion of the eraser from making a hole in it. He was thankful for the hiding spot once he felt his right hand twitch by instinct, just awoken by the familiar, now fancier, milk and lavender scent of your hair.

His eyes swept over the drawing; thin, delicate lines showed a slick tower mirroring that of the Hexgates, curved and unbalanced in an amorph geometrical pattern. Behind it was the complement, so at the distance it would look like one.

He observed you. Dangerously close. You had changed, blooming even prettier with age. Contemplative eyes used to take every detail in, new marks of wrinkles of your smiles and beams. Yet the same lips and cheeks he loved to caress.

You arched your eyebrows. “So?”

You’re precious. “I don’t favor any of these design in particular.” He shrugged, trying to get off the weight of your attention. “They’re not my taste.”

“Then you have terrible taste.”

Oh, truly? You wanted to pick a fight? He had some time to spare, then.

“Alright. Do you want an honest opinion?” Viktor sighed, as if he were exhausted by this conversation and not having his heart working overtime. “They’re ugly.”

You smiled at him; an ironic grin but a smile after all. “Thank you. I won first place in the contest with this one.”

Viktor extended a hand toward you, fingers pointing in an accusing manner. “Now you see? You can’t handle constructive criticism—”

“What constructive criticism?“  you hissed, but he ignored it. Taking a deep breath, you plastered a kind smile on your face that almost made him chuckle. “Why are they ugly?”

Viktor hummed. “Severe. Pretentious.”

“You don’t really recognize who the clients are, do you?”

“I know who are the clients, which is why I’m saying it.” He reclined in his seat. “This aren’t how your designs usually are.” It wasn’t a question, as shameful as it may feel, with his cheeks burning and eyes averting, he remembered the vision you once shared.

You retreated one step, a futile attempt at building a fort.

“You don’t know my designs,” you said, your tone cutting like a knife’s. “Not anymore.” You were already walking toward your bag, and Viktor cursed in a hushed breath. This wasn’t what peace supposed to be.

You loved curves and simpler facades, towers with gigantic windows so the residents inside could feel they touched the sky, small houses to hide a precious treasure in the form of a cozy living room to cuddle in a cold winter.

“Wait—” he called your name, and it sounded so wrong. Tasted bitterly when once had been the sweetest.

“What?!” you snapped. “Just give it to Jayce so he can show it to the Council. Roll it if you don’t want to see it.”

Viktor stood up. “You’re trying to pick a fight.” And he understood. You left without the chance to free all that built up inside of you the moment you got apart, and time had only harvested that sadness into pure wraith.

You huffed. “I don’t even know why I bother to ask your opinion.” You signaled the whole lab. “Do you want to know why you never won any Inventor’s Contest in your time as student? Because your designs were ugly.”

Viktor frowned. “Now who’s bringing the past? My prototypes worked perfectly—more of what I can say to the many winners whose inventions never saw the light of day outside the award.”

“Functionality and aesthetics must be interwoven, Viktor.” You felt as if teaching a stubborn child. “This is what I’m referring to when I say you have bad taste.”

“I would love to differ,” he said, his mind clouded by irritation, nervousness, and the ever-present reminders of another life. “How would you accuse me of having horrid taste when I dated you once?”

The silence hung heavy and charged between the two. You looked as if he had hit you with his cane, and he didn’t feel any better.

What have you just done?

“You’re impossible,” you just said with a tired sigh. Turning your back toward him and almost running out the door.

[starlit-typewriter]

Genshin SAGAU, Creator of Teyvat, but not Humanity Part 2

I didn't expect such a warm reception, but I'm so glad you guys all liked it!

Your kind words inspired me so much so behold the next part!

Warning for spoilers up to 4.6

Masterlist | Prev Part | Next Part

~~~

It all started with a dream.

Well, a lot of things start with dreams, but this one was an actual, asleep in bed, REM cycle dream.

Well, at least you thought it was. But that's neither here nor now. 

It was, to your unending embarrassment about Genshin Impact. 

Now there’s absolutely nothing wrong with likings something so much that you end up dreaming about it, it’s just slightly humiliating when you as a person is not someone who dreams a lot and your first actual proper dream that you can actually remember past the first twenty minutes after waking up is about a fictional 2D character vowing to love and care for you.

Ever so slightly humiliating.

You'd've preferred it if it was an actual person because at least that way you knew you had a crush on a living human being rather than having a parasocial relationship with a giant block of code and text. 

Actually, can you have parasocial relationships with fictional humans?

Not the point,

This started with a series of extremely weird and slightly embarrassing dreams about Iudex Neuvillette.

Actually this started when you C6’d him.

Honestly, you did not expect to get anywhere near this lucky, especially since your past luck has been average to low in terms of wishing for characters.

But with him, 

Well,

It wasn't quite streamer luck, but you did not have to spend any monetary funds to achieve your goal. 

You did have to skip quite a few Fontanian characters, and grind out all the region’s exploration, but you’d say it was well worth it.

The night after you’d gotten that final constellation, you had the aforementioned weird dream.

You weren’t in the dream per say, as you didn’t seem to occupy any physical space, 

you well.

The best way to describe it would be a movie scene. 

You watched as the man, dragon, stood on a balcony. 

The moon’s rays reflecting off of this silver chalice, you could only assume filled with another one of his fancy waters. 

But it was his gaze that caught your attention.

It’s cheesy to say, but you’ve always been drawn to the man’s gaze. It was always so sharp, so intentional.

He knew what he was looking at and he did so with reason.

But now, at this moment.

It was unfocused, hazy. 

His gaze was not focused on the moon, nor the city lights.

He did not stare at the landscape of Fontaine, nor the glittering waters beneath.

But, he saw you.

You don’t know how you knew, but you did.

You didn’t hear what he was saying, nor could you make out the words his mouth was forming but you knew that it was a call, a call for you.

It was odd but flattering and confusing, but a deeper part of you crooned as his sentiments. A part of you you didn’t realize you had was rising to the surface.

“My child,” it crooned, “my dear Hydro Dragon,”

Neuvillette seemed to startle at that.

You knew you didn’t make any sound, you didn’t even have a body, but somehow he heard it, heard you.

His face flushed, hand grasping at his chest as his murmurs seemed to grow faster.

You didn’t know what was going on anymore, simply that this rising feeling in your chest was growing and growing. 

It was scary.

It was alien.

Feelings that were not your own, moments of clarity and nostalgia flash through you, connecting to nothing but faceless figures and a deep sense of regret and loss.

What is happening,

A part of you that you didn’t know about, that you’ve never felt.

Is this what it feels like to be possessed, you recall thinking faintly before sinking into darkness.

~~~

The Iudex of Fontaine stood above all in the courtroom.

With the destruction of the Oratrice Mechanique D’analyse Cardinale, his word and judgment were the last line holding Fountaine to its standard of justice and order.

On paper, he seemed to have it all as the youths may say.

But his identity as the Hydro Dragon may deter from that.

It is already isolating enough to be the Iudex of the nation of Justice and Hydro, but to be the only dragon, were it not something that he had spent his entire lifespan balancing, he feared he could go mad from that.

There is a sense of irony in that.

Focalors's plot put both he and Furina in the highest positions in all of Fountaine, and in turn made them both the most isolated as well.

Although, at least she was released from her duties after the job was done.

While he was and forever will be grateful for her contribution in saving Fountaine, there is a quiet part of him that he’s tried very hard to bury, that is green with envy. 

He understood Focalor’s reasoning, after all, once their act was done Furina would be able to live a normal human life and he would be able to regain his powers and authority as the Hydro Dragon. 

That was as much as she could do for him, from her limited position.

He was grateful.

But,

His brethren, his kin.

They did not have the same freedoms granted to them.

While he did not have many memories of what happened to the previous sovereigns, nor of his life before the arrival of the Primordial one, he knew that they were most likely sealed away, deprived of their rightful power and authority.

It is his duty as the Hydro Dragon to render judgment upon the Usurpers that massacred his brethren and sealed away his kin. To uphold the standard of justice he has worked so hard to maintain during his rule as Iudex of Fontaine.

He once saw a quote in a popular novel that was making the rounds. “To become God is the loneliest achievement of them all,” whilst he does not recall the contents of the book, the sentiment of the line rings true, especially now that he has regained his authority.

While he and Furina did not spend much time together whilst they were performing their duties, she was a constant presence that he knew was always there. Much like a tree you would pass by everyday on your morning commute, or the singing of birds at dawn. An ever present figure whose loss is sudden and to an effect irreplaceable. 

He finds himself missing her, sometimes.

Not that he dares let Sedene and the others know, else they’ll enact some kind of plot to get him to go out and meet more people. 

But there was a comfort in knowing that she, just like him, was alone in their positions and would serve Fontaine to the very end.

Not that he dares disturb her well earned retirement, nor does he wish to retire himself. 

It was simply,

A shame.

The melusines were the closest equivalent to his dragon kin that he has had over the centuries, and will most likely continue to be for many to come. For as much as their presence filled him with happiness, they do not, and he hopes never will, understand what it truly means to be a dragon.

To be the last survivor of the original people of Teyvat, crushed under the heel of the Usurper king and their shades. 

To have to live amongst their people, knowing that while humans are innocent, their creation was built upon the bloodshed and suffering of his people.

There is a unique sense of cruelty in her actions, he reflected, fitting for the successor of one of the usurpers.

Whilst he has no doubt she meant it as an honor, taking him in, raising him to the highest scene of this land, giving him the highest seat of power and eventually returning to him his authority after watching her death.

There were moments, especially when he first took on the mantle and was trying to prove himself worthy of the title, that we would stare out at the people of Fountaine and wonder why he was doing this.

Humans were the reason for the destruction of his people. The Usurper King, sought out this world and destroyed it and it’s civilization so that a new one could be created in place of it. So that humans could be created in place of it. 

Human are the reason why his people, why the dragons were destroyed, they were the reason behind all the suffering and pain his kin have gone through and yet.

Yet they were still innocent.

They did not participate in the war.

They did not ask to be created.

They did not deserve to be punished for the sins of their creator.

However that does not make it any easier to stomach.

There is a peculiar sense of humiliation, to be worshiped alongside those who have destroyed your brethren. To serve and protect the beloved children of those who caused him and his people great harm.

It is a cruel and angry part of him that he does not dwell on much.

He cannot, lest it overrule all his rational sensibilities.

Humans are not inherently cruel beings. They are curious passionate creatures who love and care for each other deeply, who are compassionate and curious at their very core. 

Whilst during his reign as Iudex, he has seen a great deal of human cruelty and evil, he has also witnessed selfless acts of kindness and compassion. 

It is the duality of human nature that strikes him so. He cannot blame them for acts they are innocent of, but neither can he proclaim them to be free of all responsibility.

Truly the most vexing case he has ever dealt with.

Especially since,

Neuvillete frowned as he rubbed at his chest, feeling where the small spark of divine blessing lay within him. 

As the reborn Hydro dragon he does not have access to all the memories of his previous incarnations. As such his knowledge of the previous Dragon Sovereigns and the Creator of Teyvat remains incomplete.

But what he does know, what he does remember, is warmth.

The same warmth that now resides in his chest and on his very self.

He does not remember having many interactions with the creator of Teyvat, knowing that the greatest of interactions lay between the Fromitable Dragon Father himself, and the creator of this great realm. 

 He had assumed that they had abandoned Teyvat, abandoned the dragons. He’d have preferred that to be in case rather than the harrowing alternative of their defeat and possible imprisonment at the hands of the Usurper king.

But deep in his heart he knew that not to be the case.

“A creator cannot abandon their world”, King Nibelung had proclaimed, their Dragon Father was the one who knew the most about their creator after all, he had no reason to dispute such a fact.

 Worlds are much akin to terrariums, whilst on the surface it may seem completely self dependent and a skilled enough botanist may even be able to create one that can last years without any need for direct intervention, but even terrariums need light.

They require the sun to nourish its plants and create the water cycle, for all it may seem self sufficient it requires the energy of the world outside it’s glass container. 

That is very much the situation of Teyvat.

For as much as Teyvat seems to have taken care of itself, the world is breaking. Ley lines disorders have become more and more common, abyssal energy roams around, attaching itself to unsuspecting creatures. Bodies of dead gods spread harmful miasma around, polluting the earth.

If the creator wanted to destroy Teyvat, it would be as simple as cutting off the power of the Leylines, putting out the sun, or any myriad of actions that would destroy this very world.

They did not, instead they still provided this terrarium with bits of light. Enough for it to survive, but not enough to thrive. 

They still cared enough for Teyvat to sustain it, but not enough to intervene when it so clearly was struggling.

The creator he knew was not like that, they took no pleasure in toying around with others.

The only explanation for this was that they lacked the power to give Teyvat the help it so truly required. 

That realization was horrifying.

Nauvillete could only sit and wallow in his own helplessness as he watched the situation in Teyvat decline over the centuries.

Until,

Well,

Until the Traveler,

The witness from beyond the stars.

They have been given a great many titles in their journey through Teyvat, and have undoubtedly more than earned all of them. 

What he did not realize, is that they also had another title, unbeknownst to all.

A title given by a presence beyond all that they’ve encountered.

A title that they most likely did not even know of themselves.

The Creator's ∎∎∎∎

They carried the essence of the creator within them, it was clear they were beloved, it was clear that they were back.

The creator had come back.

And they were kind.

A part of Neuvillette feared that they would be much like King Nibelung, furious and desperate to do anything to drive out those that did not belong on Teyvat.

Perhaps they were at some point, but it seems that that point is not now.

The Traveler that acted with their blessing was kind,

They cared for those around them, human and non-human alike.

But they were not naive, willing to dispense justice upon those who deserved it.

If this was the person the creator chose to represent their will, perhaps their return will be much more peaceful than their disappearance.

Neuvillette had contented himself with that thought back then, throwing himself into his works as he had to deal with the threat that was the prophecy.

Little did he know that with time, the creator would bless him in much the same way.

The same blessing that sits in his chest at this very moment.

It has been months since he had been blessed as well as the completion of the prophecy. A selfish part of him wished that he would receive more since then.

Through his investigation he has seen many others, being blessed just as he had, gaining strength and power beyond their previous limits. 

But they were not dragons.

They were not the creator’s original creation, their children.

Is it unfair for him to hope that he’d be treated differently. 

Perhaps, the age of dragons had long passed already, and humans have dominated so much of this world that it is hard to deny that they are the driving force behind Teyvat.

But still,

He hoped,

He prayed,

Until,

The skies glowed.

Not the stars, mind you,

The sky

It was akin to the opposite of a solar eclipse, the night turning into day.

A surge of energy filled his body.

Not like when he regained his authority, that one was a wave of pure power cascading upon his person, placing responsibilities and burden on his shoulders alike.

This one was kind, gentle, hopeful, excited.

Is this what it feels like to take drugs, Neuvillette thought faintly.

Synth was incredibly popular on the market for its ability to create unprecedented euphoria in its users. If this is what those people felt then he understood why they were willing to go to such methods to achieve this feeling.

“My child,” the power crooned, wrapping itself around him, embracing him with all the tenderness of a loving parent,

His mouth formed the words he could not bring himself to say,

The power purred with reassurance, erasing pains and aches that he didn’t even know he had, before fading from his body.

His arms reached out in desperation, hoping to capture that feeling again to no avail.

Their presence was gone,

But their blessing remained

It certainly remained and it was stronger than ever, this power surge he feels is akin to receiving his full authority once more. 

Whilst many worries and doubts he had about the future still remained, one thing was made clear.

He was beloved, he was wanted, and the creator would keep him safe.

~~~~

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[thepinkdreamganjaqueen]

Run Rabbit

Homelander x Fem Reader 

Masterlist 🩷

Summary: Homelander spots you assisting first responders helping those less fortunate in a building fire. People he wouldn’t normally bother helping or even caring about. It’s just his job and a mundane and boring one at that. But you caught his eye. You selflessly cared for them, helping them. It disgusts him. HE needs your help! It makes him want to make you dirty, to spoil your spirit, to make you like him, and what the Homelander wants, he takes.

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, oral (m and f receiving), piv, unprotected sex, breeding, gaslighting, coercion, DUBCON, praise, begging, mentions of violence, stalking, swearing, obsession, D/S implications, mentions of death (implied), blood play, choking, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, dacryphilia, mommy issues (brief mention)… It’s homelander… 

A/N: My head Is so full of fuck! I had to get a Homelander fic out in the midst of all these fics I’m grinding on! This man, being of pure perfection, got me in a damn chokehold!! Why do we always tend to go for the guys that are walking red flags? Like, I can fix him! On a more serious note, these characters are all endearing in their own way. Trauma can manifest into some pretty terrible things, and I think we can all relate to that in some way or another. I tried to keep it short... that did not happen you know how it goes. Please, I hope y’all enjoy this one! And as always, I welcome, ideas, comments and criticisms, but please be nice. Cheeers! 

Word Count: 6.3k

Tags: fem!reader, smut, dark content 

RUN RABBIT 

He watched as you helped those around you. He had been for a while now, just out of view of the bustling crowds beginning to form and watch the commotion. He watched as you gave aid to those less fortunate. The vulnerable people you had pledged to help so long ago. It was your job and came naturally to you. He watched as the building continued to burn growing fiercer with each moment that passed. Fire reflected in his eyes with a look of discernment, perhaps even disgust, but all he could seem to focus on was you. He watched as you gave people solace and respite, watched as your hair clung to the sweat on your face from the heat of the flames, how your ample chest rose and fell as you breathed shakily, helping the local paramedics and EMT’s. You gathered supplies and handed out bottled water to those affected. A fire had broken out at the shelter. It was an old building, probably not up to date on fire regulations and things of that nature. It housed approximately 80 people that evening. You rushed about frantically helping in any way you could. A bleeding heart, he thought.  

He felt a mixture of abhorrence and lust. Something about the way you cared for those he considered beneath him. He couldn’t understand, his distaste for humanity growing every day. Yet, something about the way you cared for them, in a loving, and motherly way, so perfect. It stirred his loins and a deep longing simmered within him, a feeling he was quick to extinguish. He often had these troubled thoughts paired with erections. It was nothing new. Trauma manifesting into sexual desires as a coping mechanism. He hastily grabbed at his crotch, shifting his bulge within his suit.  

He was above it all anyway. Humans merely play things for him, entertainment. Like a fox chasing a rabbit, you became his prey. He would make you his new toy and break you. He wanted to make you dirty, to make you like him. He wanted to ruin you. He had to be methodical about this, but still, it would be easy, he thought. Conquests were never a challenge for him. He was handsome, had charm, and could put on a “friendly” demeanor if he needed to. Plus, he was a supe. If he couldn’t get a woman with his A lister status alone, he could simply force her to be with him. He would do what was necessary. He preferred little to no effort, but he couldn’t lie to himself. Sometimes, he liked the chase. Both literally and figuratively. He was like a predator. Cold, calculated. Run little rabbit, he’d think to himself. Seeing lesser beings and their pathetic attempts to escape him was his favorite kind of entertainment and maybe even gave him the feeling of joy. If only for a short time. He often found himself bored, tired of the mundane. Meetings at Vought HQ, Ashley up his ass, saving…. People. His disgust caused a visceral reaction. Tonight, he would find entertainment to chase that elusive high.  

He flew over, hovering then lowering himself as he outstretched his arms, palms down as if to quell the crowd’s murmurs and bestow peace. A façade, he couldn’t care less. He had ulterior motives. “Don’t worry, everyone, everything’s under control” he spoke. Sure, he initially showed up to do what The Homelander does… be a hero. But you caught his eye, something more interesting and surer to be more giving than the appreciation of his adoring fans and the thrill of an applauding crowd. He wanted the pleasure of seeing you beg for him. Soon. He thinks to himself with a mischievous look crossing his lips. He is staring at you as he lands. You thought he looked your way but couldn't be sure. He began that repetitive, mundane, and ever so grueling process of saving these pathetic souls. He darts in and out of the building, grabbing them one by one at a crawling pace ‘for him’. Everyone in the crowds cheered on as you watched this man help people.  

It was no unordinary feat truly. Supes were common, and Homelander was the most well-known. The leader of the seven, Americas hero. Nevertheless, you watched on as he effortlessly helped people get out safely. You caught yourself admiring his physique, he was essentially perfect. No wonder, you thought. It’s as if he was made to be perfect. His charismatic smile, striking blue eyes, chiseled jawline, and athletic build. You found yourself breathing heavier, face flushed, racy thoughts manifesting. You were still in that moment, watching how his suit would singe from the flames that brushed and flicked against him. Embers flew from the fabric and fizzled out, skin remaining untouched but revealed underneath. The glint of the gold eagle shoulder accents on his suit shined in the light of the raging fames that burst through every opening of the building, returning once more.  

The building erupted in what must have been a gas line explosion you thought. Homelander walked out through the flames with the last individual hurled over his shoulders. He sauntered over to your direction where you stood with a few EMTs who were supporting victims in a pop-up tent. Next to you, a bare stretcher. Homelander stopped next to you and dropped the smoking body onto the stretcher, eyes locking with yours as he did. He could hear your heartbeat quicken and your breathing go shallow. You were unsure if it was fear or excitement in this moment, he scared you in a way. You couldn't tell if he was disingenuous. Too many things were happening all at once, it was a state of high emotion and your head was spinning. You felt like you were helpless and had no control. He did though. He behaved as if this was nothing to him, as if he could do this one hundred times over. Of course he could, yet you could sense the arrogance behind his charismatic demeanor. 

You manage to speak in his presence. Something you had tried to do for several unending moments now under his gaze. “Thank you” you manage to mumble in a timid manner. You found it hard to maintain eye contact with him. He was so sure, so confident, and so… beautiful. You had never had the opportunity to be in the presence of a supe, let alone meet one. You had only seen them on TV, in the news, or in movies. Simmering in what you thought to be embarrassment or intimidation, you hastily make you way out of the tent, brushing by him as you passed. He watched over his shoulder as you disappeared behind him, feeling the warmth from you as you passed. He inhaled deeply as you walked away. You were so flustered but didn’t know why… You knew why, truly you did. It just didn’t make sense. You didn’t want it to make sense. You felt attraction to him, and you felt guilty for it for whatever reason. For many reasons. But mainly, you felt bad that in this moment, you felt lust and your attention drawn away from the people that needed your help the most. 

You made it behind the tent and had begun fidgeting with a worry stone you kept in your pocket. Rubbing it furiously when you hear the wet splat of steps behind you. You look down, the grounds wet; the fire fighters must be here, you think. A firm hand grabs your shoulder and spins you around. He looks at you matter of factly with a smirk. “You know, I wanted to tell you back there, thank you, for the work you do and for helping these fine people” he said, hand still on your shoulder. His eyes beaming into yours a deep sapphire. “I also wanted to let you know that there were some folks over there that could really use your help! That is, if you still want to help people.” He watched as shame crossed your face, then guilt and confusion. Easy, he thought. They’re so fucking easy! His smile, perfect white teeth gleaming at you. You recoil at his words, struck by how kind he sounded with the contrast of his delivery. You felt immediately inclined to help, like you didn’t have a choice but to prove it to yourself, and to him, for whatever reason. 

You nod your head in agreement, convinced by him you needed to. You feel a weight take over your entire body, pulling you down. Before you realize you were being flown away from the scene. The Homelander had picked you up and shot towards the sky. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you against his body. Terror filled you, but you were too high up to scream, the force of wind hindering your speech and breathing as it forcefully blew past your face. What did you agree to? You think. Where is he taking me? As quickly as the thoughts came to fruition, you were on your feet once more. He was looking down at you, still clinging tightly to your lower back. His face is indifferent and uncaring, almost empty. The suit he wore felt ridged where flames made contact. Soft in some places where the fabric was still intact and cool, where his skin peeked through. Your arms still grasped his biceps until you became aware you were doing so and let go. You wondered how he felt under the suit. He’s invincible, is his skin like that of a rock, or is he soft and pliable. He caught you gazing at the areas where his suit had melted away. He watched as you admired him. He knew the thoughts running through your head. He could see them cross your face. He was amused. That mixture of lust, exhilaration, and fear. He craved that from you, and you were abundantly insatiable. 

“Just through there.” He gestured kindly toward a door as he let go of your waist. You took a second to observe your surroundings, still fearful of what exactly you were doing and where the hell you were. For an educated girl, you felt like this was a really stupid decision. You were standing on a white tiled balcony about fifty, maybe sixty stories up. The city sprawled out before you. You could see city lights and in the distance a plume of smoke sure to be the fire you just came from. You remarked at how far away you were. Looking towards the door you saw white curtains billowing through the opening leading into a dark room. “This way” he gestures once more. His hand at the small of your back pushing you towards the entrance. 

You step inside, looking for someone, anyone. A large room with a couple connecting hall ways it looked like. Seems to be an apartment. A very nice one. You begin searching the room familiarizing yourself with it, it’s pretty dark except for the light of a modular fire place that hung from the ceiling. There’s a four-post bed with sheer white curtains, lace pillows, and a velvet duvet. Some accents, art, and statues, it looked very high class, very luxurious. Who did it belong to? You thought. It didn't matter though. 

Homelander had stepped behind you watching you roam the apartment you were now essentially trapped in. He stood behind you, shedding off pieces of his torched suit, exposing himself completely. He playfully tugged at his cock, already hard. Pulling it to his abdomen and letting it slap down onto his leg in a spring like motion. SLAP! He was hard watching you at the building fire, the intensity only grew. Especially when he held you close. He watched you search the room, calling out to no one. He snickered to himself. How much is she really willing to help hmm? He thought about you begging for him, praying he would let you come, but only after he tore you to shreds and broke you down mentally. He needed you to crave him, needed you to need him. Appreciate him, respect him, and most of all, obey him! Look at her, stupid enough to go along with this, she’s so sweet. It sickened him and only made his fervent lust grow. 

The realization finally began to hit, and a pit dropped in your stomach. There was no one here to help. In a way, you already knew but held onto some kind of hope, albeit for nothing. You began to spiral in your mind when a loud slap could be heard behind you. You spin around quickly on your heels, already on edge when your eyes are drawn to Homelander. The doors had closed behind him, and there he stood, completely nude in front of you. You stood with your mouth agape when he said “sorry, my suit was burned, practically tarnished, I had to take it off.” He shrugged his shoulders and chuckled with a sly smile. Hs eyes narrowed as he grabbed his cock and pulled it up once more to his abdomen and let it slap down onto his leg. SLAP! He was throbbing, watching your reaction to him so boldly lying to your face and exposing himself to you, jacking off in front of you with zero consequences. He knew he could do anything he wanted- get anything he wanted, and anyone would give it to him, even you. Whether you liked it or not. 

You recoiled in disgust and shock, eyes wide with fear. Although earlier you had thought about him like this maybe even slightly, not like this! “Where are they?!” you tried to say in a tone that was stern yet confident enough to not show fear. He could hear the fear in your voice, the pulse that raced through your veins that told everything in your mind and body to run away. “Who?” he replied teasingly. SLAP! “The people! The people you said needed help!” you shot back, starting to lose your cool. Heat rose to your cheeks and you felt hot, dizzy and angry. The light of the fireplace danced gently over his features illuminating him in an amber glow. Every muscle, every shape and curve on his body, shrouded in firelight.  

He stepped forward, walking briskly towards you. You stammered back, glancing behind you, looking for a place to run but hitting a wall. You tried to look for an exit, but the room was dimly lit, and it was too late. He was already right in front of you. You leaned against the wall and clasped your hands behind your back as he pressed his hand against the wall next to your head, the other hand holding his throbbing length… SLAP!  

“It’s me!” he said in a curt tone, almost annoyed you didn’t know. His eyes traveled, looking you up then down. “I need your help!” he stated. You turned your head sideways as he leaned in, whispering in your ear “My suit was burned, I could have been hurt saving those people, don’t you care?” A brief flicker of red lit up behind each eye, and you felt yourself shrink in his presence. You were scared, unsure of yourself. He’s invincible, you thought. Your head spun; you didn’t understand the weight of the situation. Except that he lied to you to get you here. He grabbed your chin with his free hand and turned your face to his, looking at you behind a furrowed brow. “Don’t you care about me?!” SLAP! His face scrunched, examining your reaction, waiting for a reply. “Y-Yes.. I care about you.” You chimed apprehensively and unconvincingly. He doesn't even know your name, you thought. He doesn't care. 

He let go of your chin. “Show me” he demanded behind a mischievous smile that curled at the ends of his lips. He placed his hands on your shoulders gripping the fabric of your shirt underneath and ripping it off, pulling it apart, you heard the buttons pop off and hit the floor with a ting as it ripped down the center. Your heart leapt into your throat as he devours you with his eyes, reeling in the sight of your ample breasts and the soft fleshy skin beneath your bra. He was all but salivating for you. He wanted to rip your bra off and nuzzle himself between your breasts, to inhale the skin, to feel their warmth. But he wanted you to prove yourself. Did you really care about him? Were you really a good girl? 

At this point, you realize what he brought you here for. But why you? He was a supe. He could literally kill you without a thought, and he would be protected. Your mind was hazy, but you couldn’t stop your own eyes from wandering. He was, in all his glory, vulnerable and bearing himself to you. Part of you thought it irresistable, intimate even. His body against yours felt like fire, and your senses began to tingle and go haywire. SLAP! You found yourself at the will of your hormones as your thoughts and body took over. He pushed his body closer, his hard length now pushing into your abdomen with force. A gasp fell from your lips as he looked into your eyes, a deep blue sea of burning blue ice. Entranced by his physique. Another whisper, more stern this time “I said, show me!”  

He stepped back, and you dropped to your knees in front of him. His hand on top of your head caressed the side of your face and slid to the underside of your chin, forcing you to look up at him, he gave a cursory look, eyebrows raised as if to say ‘I’m waiting’. Not wanting to disappoint him or make him angry, you quickly raise your hands up and rest them on his thighs. Feeling the softness of his skin. Leaning in, you open your mouth and take him in. His hands were immediately in your hair, pulling you in closer. Sticking out your tongue and forcing his length down the back of your throat. Tears begin to stream down your face. He put a finger to your face, catching a tear as it fell and pressing it to his tongue. His throbbing cock twitched in your throat. It was substantially thick and unreasonably big, the force stretching your throat was enough to make you cry.  

He threw his head back, letting out a low groan. Your mouth is so warm, so wet, and so tight. He imagined stretching your pussy, pounding you into oblivion until you either cried and begged for him to stop or climaxed and cried for more. You continued sucking, taking him in as deep as you could each time, hoping to please him and show him you were truly a good person. That you did care about him, you cared about everyone truly...but especially him. He created a feeling in you- you had not had previously, a desire for him. You used your hands to explore his body as you gulped him down, mesmerized by him. Caressing his abdomen, his buttocks and his balls. He had his hands twisted in your hair, rocking with the motion of your mouth. Every once in a while, taking your time to gently circle his tip with your tongue while sucking, ending in a kiss to his tip. Each time your lips pulled from him, a trail of precum would string from your lips.  

You looked up at him, licking your lips clean. “Mmm, that’s a good girl. Show me more.” He growled through his passion as he pulled you to your feet and directed you to get on the bed. He smacked your ass with force as you walked, it rang out with a snap, even against the fabric, it stung. You lurched forward falling into the bed face first. He quickly stood behind you spreading you knees apart on the bed with his legs as he approached. He began tearing your remaining clothes from you in shreds laughing. You felt defeated and ashamed, but you wanted more. Embarrassment filled your face with heat, a bright red hue colored your nose and cheeks.  

Your bra, snapped and torn. Your jeans, off, split in two, your underwear, lacy and white, torn from between your legs. You whimpered as they dug in while being ripped off of your body. Quick and painful. Grabbing your hips, he pulled you closer to the end of the bed where he stood. A cold breeze drifted across your back, buttocks, and exposed legs. He had you right where he wanted you. He liked it when you squirmed, when you whimpered. You thought perhaps you liked it as well. You found yourself helpless, at his mercy, and obeying his every command.  

He smacked you again and again. The sound of your flesh being abused rang out into the empty room, bellowing out and echoing back to you. Your skin again burning from the impact of his open hands leaving red hand prints sprinkled over your flesh. He joyfully continued. His face in a half smirk with eyes narrowed as he reveled in every cry that escaped your mouth. Your skin, now mottled with bruises and scratches. Smack! Again, he slaps your ass and drags his fingers down. Pinching you, squeezing hard, and watching you recoil, helpless to get away. You could feel the wetness spread between your legs. “Who’s my good girl, huh?” he said confidently in a gruff. “I aam” you cried out in a huff, face buried in the blankets. He placed both palms on your cheeks and placed his thumbs close to your crevice, pulling with his thumbs and exposing your most intimate parts to him. The brisk air on the wetness of your cunt sent a shiver up your back and goosebumps peppered your skin. Homelander took notice and began smoothing his hands over the surface of your legs and back as you lay before him, relishing in the work he’s created. An artwork of purple and red now enhanced by the prickling of your skin. 

What a sweet little cunt, he thought to himself. He then pushed against the surface of your opening with a single finger, taunting you, teasing you in a cruel way. You rocked your hips back toward him but couldn’t move, not unless he decided to let you. “what’s wrong bleeding heart? Not so sweet now, are you?” You whined as he toyed with you. Slowly drawing circles around your labia, clit, and opening, spreading your wetness around his fingers and your vulva. “Please, Homelander, please!” you begged him, a muffled plea distorted from the blankets below. You turn your head to look back at him, the only thing you could manage to move. You watched as he brought his face down, placing his tongue along your slit, flat, wide, and slowly licking up towards your entrance. You couldn’t take it anymore; he was teasing you and you were putty in his unforgiving hands. You melted into his touch. Pure bliss and euphoria filled your body as your mind released a load of dopamine to your receptors. Telling you, you wanted him, no- you needed him. Now! 

Slowly, he pushed two fingers in. The sheets below you, clutched within your hands as you lay on top of them. His hand held tightly, gripping your left cheek, holding you open as he explored, pushing in harder and deeper as he went. He could manage his strength sure, but he wanted so badly to fuck you into the bed, and you wanted to feel just a fraction of his strength, you thought you could handle it. In his mind he knew you couldn't. You, a delicate little thing. A rabbit he had caught. But just the same he held back, he needed time to play, to be entertained. 

The room filled with the aches and moans coming from your mouth as he pulled his fingers in and out of you, licking up and down your slit, and fucking you with his tongue. You wanted to move, but he had a hold of you. But you wanted to see his face, to watch him as he pleasured you so lovingly, a stark contrast to how you got here. They way his tongue traveled so freely between your folds and into your core, both tender and firm. There was no escape. You didn't want him to stop, your walls quivered around his fingers. 

He stopped, his fingers sopping, his face covered in your fluid. You feel his arm reach under you and pull you, turning you around. You lay before him on your elbows, knees bent. He pulls your forward, his face stern, as he gazed at your chest. He kneels in front of you and without words opens his mouth and laps at your breast flesh with his tongue. Sucking, licking, biting, lightly flicking your nipple with his tongue. A low hum building in the back of his throat. Your juices now smeared all over your chest as he paws and devours your breasts. You moan in ecstasy, a high-pitched squeal that reverberated in the room. You could feel his lips curl into a smile around your areola as he consumed all of you. Inhaling you in deeply.  

Your hand roamed his body, such a powerful being, and you had the pleasure of taming him. Your hands, rubbing along the muscles on his back, your fingers tracing the veins sticking out on his arms as he cradled your chest. In this moment, you weren't scared of him. You knew his power that he could kill you with his dick if he wanted to. But in this moment, he was vulnerable, weak even. He was the most human right now with you than he had felt in a while. Something about a woman with ample breasts opening up for him, opening everything up for him, filled him with a sense of true belonging. The elusive high he was truly trying to chase but always evaded him so eagerly. It was true compassion, isn't that why he chose you? You, specifically. Not just a beautiful woman, a beautiful woman with a pure heart.  

"You’re being such a good girl," he moaned into your chest. You move your hands from his shoulders to his face, pulling him up. He looks up at you. You observe an innocent, unassuming look in his eyes. He follows where you guide him. Your lips push against his in a heavy kiss. He pushes your shoulders down and pins you to the bed, enveloping you in his own passionate kiss. He swirls his tongue in your mouth and bites your bottom lip hard. You could taste the tinge of blood, like pennies in your mouth. Blood pooled at the corner or your mouth. With a flick of his thumb, he wiped it away and kissed you again. He found the taste of your blood mixed with your essence to be intoxicating, making him drunk with lust. 

 "Are you ready for your reward?" He said nefariously. That smile, no matter how menacing you thought it was, still made you crumble. "Mhmm" was all you could manage. He stood, quickly lifting you from the bed so you were face to face with him once more. He cradled your legs in his arms, holding you to him effortlessly. Slowly, you felt his arms drop you down, his hardness, now piercing your slick wet opening just barely. You groaned, once again trying to motion yourself closer to him, to feel him inside you, but he wouldn't let you move. It was his decision and his alone. With your arms wrapped around him, you began kissing his face and neck. Lightly with delicate pecks.  

Her lips were so soft and moist, he thought to himself as you indulged in him. Leaving traces of saliva trailed down his neck as you pulled your lips from his skin. Soft breaths from your mouth, creating a cool sensation on the surface. He growled deeply and with sudden force, dropped you down, sliding his whole length into you without hesitation or effort. He chuckles as you cry out. His swollen cock, so stiff, so large. It hurt sliding in. You were dripping with him just sticking the tip of his head at your surface, so he entered you easily. But you could feel the pressure inside stretching you from within, a painful yet satisfying fullness. His face was focused on yours as you cried in ecstasy and pain. The pain only amplifying the pleasure of him forcefully ramming you, lifting you up and down, sliding you on and off his cock. He could feel the pressure of your walls closing up and gripping him every time he slid hid length out of you. Then having to forcefully push back in again, opening you up. “So. Fucking. Tight.” He said with each grunt as he proceeded. 

Homelander’s thoughts had ceased at this point. He was enveloped in euphoria, acting on pure instinct but somehow still able to hold back. He concentrated on your face, watched as beads of sweat pooled on your forehead, then dropped down your face and onto your chest, glistening on your breasts. How your eyebrows curled up in the middle as your voice rang out into the room. Your screams only made him more crazed. He pounded you in a frenzy. Meeting each thrust with a grunt as he hit your cervix harder and faster with each push, causing you to cry out in moans of pure passion intermixed with pain. 

He dropped you back on the bed and stood at the end, parting your thighs once more with his legs. You thoughtlessly wrap them around him pulling him closer almost instant as if it was a natural reaction. You were too out of breath to speak; you could only mumble 3 words “I'll be good”. Homelander leans into the bed, a hand placed at either side of your face as he enters you.  

With your legs wrapped around him and his hands not holding you down, you were now free to meet his thrusts with your own, something he did not expect. He stopped for a moment and watched as you had become what he made you. Craving him, only wanting him, and willing to do anything for it. His body was rigid and still as you bucked and rocked underneath him, trying to meet his pelvis with your own thrusts when his right hand reaches over and closes over your throat He enters you. “Fuck!” you whisper in a harsh tone, unable to fully speak. He shoves his throbbing member into your cunt, squeezing your neck tighter with every slam into you, you fuck him back looking into his eyes as you moan his name.  

He sucks in through his teeth and lets out a long sigh, loosening his grip on your neck. “Now be a good girl and finish me off” he says in a deep whisper. You nod your head in agreement, wanting it just as bad as he did. He lightly pecks your lips before releasing his grip and lying next to you. You lift your legs to straddle him on the bed, knees pressed to his hips. His hands wander to your chest, squeezing and pulling the flesh. With your hands placed firmly on his abdomen, you allow yourself to sit down on him, giving yourself he time to adjust to him, which he had not done. He thought this to be tedious. Were you teasing him? He would not allow it. His hands reach out and grip your hips, pushing you onto him. There was nothing you could do; his strength was unimaginable. The power of his cock expanding you within was a testament to this. 

You didn't need him to push you down, you thought. You would happily ride him regardless of the pain. This was worth it, something you didn't know you needed and never thought you wanted. The earlier nights troubles were miles away in your mind, you could only think about him now, pleasing him. You felt a yearning for him brew deeply within your loins, and a longing in your heart. 

You propped yourself up, crouching above him on your feet, still stranding him. Your body had accepted him now, and you were wetter than ever, sopping around his manhood. Each bounce met with a loud exhausted moan from you, and a wet slap could be heard echoing off the walls of the room. Music to Homelanders ears, internalizing you moans. Mesmerizing to hear, indifferent to the pain it may have caused you.  

With your arms outstretched behind you gripping his thighs, you bounced on him, each time taking him in fully, rocking forward, as you did. The brush of his pubic hair against your clit as you grinded into him sent you into hysterics. You began slamming yourself on top of him, breathing heavily. He used his hands to cup your breasts and playfully tug at your nipples as you found your climax. He had never heard someone scream so loud while taking his cock. Your pace slowed as your orgasm took over, your body convulsing with every contraction of your cunt around him. “You’re not done yet!” he growled “How greedy” he chuckled maliciously. His words barely registered in your fucked out brain, still swimming from the intensity of your climax.  

“I said you're not done yet! Keep going!” He said in an insistent and unsympathetic manner, slapping your breasts, leaving a large red hand print that stung. He then grabbed your face, pinching your cheeks in his hand and pulling you down. “Fuck me.” You immediately slink back and do as you are told. His good girl. Taken aback by exhaustion and overstimulated, but not wanting to disappoint this work of perfection, not wanting to disappoint The Homelander, you find the strength to continue on. You use all of your strength incomparable to his, to please him, hoping it was good, that it was enough. You were eager to please him and wanted your reward for it.  

You planted yourself on him, over and over again, easing his tip in and out each time. His hands had reached to your backside, clutching the flesh in each fist, pulling you forward with each fall. Looking into his eyes, those piercing sapphire blue eyes sparkling with adoration. You watched as his lashes futtered and his face scrunched, his lips parting as he looked down watching himself slide in and out of you, hands latched onto you. He lets out a low breathy grunt, and his hands go limp on your cheeks, his eyes roll back. You reveled in the moment, soaking up the feeling of him spasming inside you while bursts of his seed shot deep within you. His cum dripping out and collecting around the base as you continued to slowly fuck him. Each burst causing his body to buck and convulse. You maintained your gaze on him, seeing him in his weakest moments. It was sweet. This man you had feared, turned from a monster into something beautiful to you. He was this anamorphic being you could now see clearly. He wanted to be loved, adored, cared for, appreciated, and feared. You wanted to be that person for him. You didn't want to let go or cease this moment. 

He helped you off of him, and you lay sprawled out on the bed. A mess of exhaustion. Pearls of his essence are still leaking out. He sat calmly next to you, enjoying the last bit of euphoria from this high as his orgasm subsided. A coy smile crossed his lips as he caressed the side of your face with his fingers. With no explanation and no words spoken, he left. Just like that. Out the balcony door and into the cloudy night. Still in a daze, you lay there admiring the bites, bruises, scratches, and hand prints that freckled your body, playfully tracing along all the marks he gifted you. Waiting eagerly for is return. 

[holidayinhell]

Whumpee’s breaths came in shallow, rapid gasps. 

Whumper watched his lips transition from blue to purple, finally fading to an ashen pink. His pale skin bore a faint flush, and his ragged breaths leveled out.

Finally, Whumpee let out a series of sharp, painful coughs.

He was alive. 

Somehow, Whumper had actually managed to save him.  

He studied the man in his lap with wonder, watching as his chest rose and fell shallowly. He was grateful. He let out a grand exhale, relieved. Against all odds, Whumpee had actually survived.

“Easy.” Whumper murmured, pushing a strand of damp, dark hair from Whumpee’s eyes.

Blinking through the blur, Whumpee’s mind began shifting into focus. 

His ears rang with a deafening pitch and his head throbbed with the most painful headache he’d ever had. His throat burned like hellfire, but at least he could breathe sweet, sweet air. Never in his life had he felt so cold, so weak-- so close to death, to nothingness.

The chill seeped deep into his water-soaked bones. Everything hurt. It felt like he was frozen solid, every nerve ending screaming from the biting chill, except for the small spot of warmth radiating from his back.

For one sacred moment, he sank deeper into the warmth underneath him. He almost managed to relax. But when he realized he was lying in Whumper’s lap, his eyes snapped open.

“You. Y-You tried to kill me.” 

His words were frayed, but the accusation sliced through the room.

Whumper removed his hand from Whumpee’s damp hair, frowning.

“Shut up, Whumpee.”

After all of this, not one ounce of gratitude.

He shoved Whumpee off his lap, dropping him onto the freezing porcelain floor.

Whumpee’s cheek pressed against the slick, frigid tiles of the bathroom floor. His slender body shivered in the icy puddle of water that had collected beneath him. 

"I-I'm-mm sorry..." Whumpee's voice trembled, barely above a whisper. He imagined the tall man yanking him up by the hair and dragging him back over to the tub, finishing what he'd started.

Whumper turned and rose to his feet, leaning against the granite countertop. He let out an irritated sigh.

"Please, d-don't... don’t do it again."

“Don’t give me a reason to.” The tall man said over his shoulder.

In the mirror, Whumper’s eyes traced over Whumpee’s naked body. He’d never seen someone so fragile, so vulnerable. Whumpee was sprawled across the cold tile like a ragdoll, shivering and too exhausted to move. He was so pale and thin. 

Whumper watched with fascination as Whumpee attempted to push himself up. But just before he managed to sit up, his arms wobbled as he lost his grip, sending his elbows crashing back into the ground with a dull thud. 

A smile flashed across Whumper’s face. It reminded him of a newborn horse trying to walk for the first time, clumsily wobbling until it tumbles in the mud.

He wanted to laugh at the pathetic attempt, but thought better of it.

“For what it’s worth, Whumpee,” The tall man said to Whumpee's reflection in the mirror. “I forgive you.”

Shivering, he crumbled in on himself, curling into a fetal position. Tears welled in his eyes. Whumpee couldn’t even remember what he’d done to deserve this in the first place.

“Why did you... you were gonna k-kill me. You tried, y-you were gonna kill me...”

Whumper sighed again, trying to swallow the irritation buzzing in his brain. Each second he spent in the wreckage of the dripping bathroom only made his impatience grow.

“Stop. You're alive!” he said, attempting a light-hearted tone. The forced cheer in his voice was a poor mask for his growing agitation.

“Now come on. Sit up.”

Whumpee braced himself, palms trembling as they pressed against the slick floor again, struggling to find his grip.

He actually managed to sit up this time, but the effort sent his head spinning. He drew his legs into his chest for warmth, deliberately avoiding Whumper’s chilling gaze.

“Good, see? You're better already. Are you cold?” 

It was a dumb, painfully obvious question. Whumpee nodded.

“Ah well, sorry, Whumps. I’d let you take a bath… but, I uh, kinda think you’d hate that right now.”

Whumper collected a half-soaked towel hanging from a silver rack before flinging it over the crook of his arm, taking a step towards Whumpee.

“I'll admit, I was a little hard on you. Things just got a little out of hand. But I wasn’t trying to kill you, okay?”

Whumpee’s eyes were locked on the water pooled on the bathroom floor, his mind distant.

“Okay?” Whumper repeated more harshly, demanding an answer.

Whumpee nodded frantically. He didn't believe it.

Whumper's words were hollow. Empty. When he’d held Whumpee’s head under the water, he wasn’t trying to teach Whumpee some fucking lesson. And when the water closed in around him, seeping into his nose and throat, no, that wasn’t a punishment. It was a death sentence.

Whumper stood squarely in front of him, leaning forward. "Here."

The damp towel fell over Whumpee’s head limply, doing nothing to warm his frozen body. 

“Hey.” Whumper said in a callused, hushed voice. “Hey. Look at me, Whumpee.” 

"Don't worry." He clutched Whumpee’s chin, forcing his tired eyes to meet his intense gaze.

“If I wanted you dead, you’d be fucking dead.”

----

this is a part 2 to Went Too Far, but works as a standalone :~)

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 16

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N: I've made some cute headers for the thing!!! What do you guys think??

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13 • Part 14 • Part 15

• ··········· • ············ •

“Are you coming in or not?” He didn’t move as he spoke, and with a deep breath, you walked into the elevator.

You didn’t care for Rictus, not that he ever did you much harm personally, but you had heard the stories. Caitlyn would tell about how he ‘interrogated’ Zaunites, and you'd begged her to say something. Stop him, stop Ambessa. At one point you'd ask her if releasing the gray wasn't enough, and that got you the silent treatment for a while. He was loyal to the general and her ways, and unless the universe had given him the ‘broom-closet’ treatment, he was probably the same asshole.

The doors closed with a cheerful ping, and you stared straight ahead at your blurred reflection in the golden metal. You started to pray to whoever was listening for this to be a quiet and quick ride, but when you saw his reflection move, turning slightly towards you, you knew the elevator was the gods’ blind spot.

“What was the color?” He asked, his tone smug about something you weren’t yet privy to. “Excuse me?” You didn’t fully look at him, just tilted your head slightly towards him. “The rune…what was the color?" You could feel his grin as the words came out.

Son of a bitch.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You turned back to stare in front of you with a deep sigh of annoyance coming out of you. “I know those distant looks into the void.” He straightened up too, grasping his hands in front of him. He wasn't trying to be menacing, but his weight alone was enough for him to be threatening no matter what he was doing. “In the beginning, it’s all very telling. The long stares into nothingness, the twitches when something gasps behind you. It’s all the same…”

There was no joking tone or sympathy in his voice, just knowledge. You supported the most blank expression you could muster as there was no sympathy in your eyes when you looked at his profile.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You punctuated every word, and he chuckled, his metal armor moving to the mocking sound.

“Was it Green? Golden? Blue? Purple?” He looked back at you, and the shattering sound started to reappear.

Apparently whatever micro-expression you gave him was enough for him to figure out as a grin spread across his face.

“Purple? Chaos then? Interesting…”

You looked at his expression with a scowl. It was more than obvious whatever you'd tell him was going to go straight out of your mouth into Ambessa’s ear. And yet he seemed to be the most knowledgeable person about actual magic. So the scowl was mixed with an eye roll of annoyance.

“What about it?” You looked back to your reflection. 

“Those don’t show up often.” You kept your mouth shut, waiting for him to continue. "The Arcane doesn't trust us with those runes." "Us?" "Imperfect beings." His tone showing a displeasure at that description. "We cannot be trusted with chaos, because we like to jump into the dark waters without thinking of the consequences."

A moment of silence passed between you two. Somewhere in the back of your mind, another voice talked to you about imperfections and how it should be a priority of all beings to become their most perfect self. Now that you thought about it, the whole spiel made sense. He was a version of the Arcane.

“What would happen if I were to use it?” You side-eyed him; he tilted his head towards you much like you did before. "I suggest using it on someone you don't like." He looked at you smugly.

You looked at him straight in the eye, face blank, eyes on fire, a predatory grin unconsciously showing on your face. You saw the wall behind him start to shatter just like a window in the lab.

The arrogance on his features quickly disappeared. His shoulders tensed and his fists clenched. He wasn��t the only one who could read body signals. He was readying himself for something. The door pinged, and he took a step forward.

“You’d be dead before you finished speaking the rune.” he said as he passed by you.

That was enough for you to know the purple chaos rune was something even Rictus didn’t want to deal with.

• ············ •

After four or five weeks of popping into this dimension, the mystery was over: you finally found out what your mother’s commission to the lab was. It was a small machine that would be able to read out loud any document it scanned.

You brought a new couch to the lab at the beginning of the week. It was made from the same material as the armchairs on the penthouse's veranda. The shine in Viktor’s eyes could have lit up a dark room, as Jayce groaned.

“Thank you…now he’s never going home.” He had said. “He is. Mom is sending another one to his apartment.” You’d retorted.

After that, Viktor promised to make 'The Reader' his priority.

And that brought you to the lab, waiting for Viktor to finish something on the invention as you sat on the upholstery.

You understood at the moment the appeal of that cushioning, melting into it as Viktor turned his stool to you, placing the goggles on his forehead, his disheveled hair making him look like a mad scientist.

“I think we can try to make it work…Hopefully it will work,” he said, tilting his head to the side, looking at it with doubt, his hand going to the hairs on the back of his head.

“Explain to me again what it does.” You pointed your eyes gazing at the weird contraption.

You’d seen some beautiful things come from this lab in your timeline. This, though? ...was not it. Even though both men kept promising to make it look nice, the skeleton of the machine was nightmarish. 

It had four long legs that came out of a funnel-like tube. The end of the tube had a glass lens with four little prongs to secure the hex gem on it, and two small speaker cones finished up the structure. It looked like a spider playing two tiny trumpets.

“Well…” he cleared his throat and pointed to the metal structure. “We call it 'The Reader' because, well, that is what it does." "Did you name it?" You joked, and he looked at you, rolling his eyes pointedly. "Maybe..." He gave you a grin and went back to the explanation. "You put a paper with something written on this side.”

He grabbed a small piece of paper, wrote something on it, and placed it on the lower part of the thing.

“And then you turn the switch.” He flipped a little metallic switch, and the hex gem shined, a ring of arcane symbols floating around it. 

A blue cone of light came from the lens and reflected on the page; a small, brighter rune shined, and a line of brighter light from the cone traced the letters. After a few seconds, a noise that sounded like a record scratch started to come out of the speakers.

“Hello, I am Viktor.” The machine whirred, and a very mechanical Viktor voice came out of the machine.

It was far more similar to the Herald’s voice than you’d expect, and for a moment you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You blinked slowly, trying to stop the spiral about to start.

“I can change the voice…” Viktor interrupted your silence. You looked up at his cringing expression. “I don’t think my accent helps with the clarity of the reading.”

“It’s a perfectly good accent if you ask me.” You blurted out, your mind still a little light. "And if you're going to try and somehow use it in the Undercity, perhaps a familiar accent would help."

"Has your mother told you the purpose of the machine?" He asked, turning to you in his stool, knees bumping into yours.

"It's my mother's project. A project that you are overseeing. The target audience is very easy to guess." You shrugged and leaned back into the couch.

“I don't know if I like being that obvious with my intentions.” Viktor's had a joking tone, and you snorted. 

Without another word, he turned the page over on the small table under the lens and flipped the switch again. The cone of blue light came over the text, and the small bright line started to trace the letters again.

A very stoic and misplaced Viktor voice came from the invention, this time sounding more comical than threatening since it was clear that the hex gem was trying to add sounds together unnaturally.

“This is the letter A.” It said, and you started to have difficulty controlling the laughter, the chuckles and snorts becoming hard to swallow. “It can be read as apple or nation. It can—

The runes started to move faster around the hex gem, and the sound coming from the speakers became distorted, much like a record player replaying a damaged part of a vinyl record.

“It can—hello—Letter A—read as I’m—Apple—Viktor—Nation.” It repeated a string of nonsensical words as it started to die down. You both looked at each other. Viktor with a concerned look, you with a humorous one. “I’m Vikt-or nation…Hello, Viktor, or nation”

The sound warbled out into silence. You sucked your lips, trying to stop the fit of laughter, but it was inevitable. You saw Viktor's chest shake, and a small string of laughter came out.

“It may need a few adjustments!” Viktor scratched the back of his neck. “Just a few?” “Yes. Well, last time I worked on it, no sound would come out. This is progress. Sort of…” He touched the machine with a screwdriver, and the thing went back to its incoherent speech, grabbing words from the paper and jumbling them together in an incoherent form.

You got back to laughing until Viktor detached the hex gem from its place, the machine dying without another sound.

“I don’t think you’re getting there with a few adjustments.” You looked at both the invention and the inventor with your head.

Viktor gave you an annoyed look, grabbed the metal spider machine, placed it carefully on his workstation, and started to tinker with the machine once again.

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat @kneelarmhstrung @dedicated2viktor @elvishstudies

[frost-queen]

Omashu's beholder (Reader x Prince Zuko)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic  , @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 , @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers  , @merlieve   , @queen-of-books  , @glimmering-darling-dolly  ,@denkisclown   , @wildieflower  ,@meyocoko   , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr  , @swampthing07  , @melsunshine   , @panhoeofmanyfandoms  , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat ,@rosecentury  ,  @imagines-by-her  ,  @evilcr0ne  , @vviolynn   , @niktwazny303  ,@avada-kedavra-bitch-187  , @markive-m , @sweetheartlizzie07

“You are not coming along.” – Zuko made clear. – “Why not?” – you answered, setting your hands on your hips. Zuko groaned loud as you once again went against him. As if his rule meant nothing to you. – “Because I say so.” – he replied a bit annoyed. – “So you expect me to sit and wait while you get to explore Omashu?” – you spoke back, glancing at Iroh that is was ridiculous. – “Yes!” – Zuko called out making you roll your eyes.

“I’ve seen nothing but these damn walls and darned sea for more than a month Zuko!” – you let out, pleading with him to bring you along. – “I want to see cities again Zuko… cities…” – you begged wanting to get off the ship. – “This isn’t some sightseeing trip. I’m only here for the Avatar.” – he responded slowly losing his patience.

“And?” – you let out making Zuko inhale deep. Turning away, to hold his fingers under his nose to compose himself. – “Nephew.” – Iroh pleaded giving him a nudge. – “She’s not coming along.” – he said to his uncle.

Iroh tilted his head your way for his nephew to approach you a different way. Zuko exhaled loud, rubbing his forehead. – “I’ll… I’ll bring you a souvenir… if I have the time.” – he told you. You puffed loud in surprise at his ridiculous request. Iroh shook his head. – “We’re leaving.” – he shouted to his men. He made eye contact with his first in command. Having a fierce gaze. He pointed his fingers at his eyes, than at you. A warning for him to keep watch on you. The first in command bowed his head in response.

Zuko moved a bit closer to you, holding you by your elbow. – “Stay here… I’ll be back soon enough.” – he said in a husky voice. You ignored him, having turned your posture away from him. Zuko let his grip falter on you, leaving with his uncle. You walked up to the side, grabbing onto the railing as you watched them get lowered in a smaller boat. Watching them descend into waters to reach the mainland.

Sighing loud, you leaned your hand under your chin. Once more left out. It was always ‘stay here’, ‘it is too dangerous’ or ‘it’s business’. You disliked being excluded from it all. What good were you with being his betrothed if you were never allowed to come. Never allowed to prove your worth. Simply sit and roll over as your dearest betrothed commanded. Deep down you hoped Zuko harboured some feelings towards you.

Any were enough to not feel alone in this. Otherwise it was nothing but a political match. Glancing over your shoulder, you noticed the first in command observing you keenly. His gaze piercing through you. Making sure you wouldn’t run. Since you had a habit of going against your prince’s words. Something he surely was the cause of. If only he involved you more. There was absolutely no way you were going to sit back and wait.

Stepping a bit to the side, you noticed the fist in command take a step in the same direction as you. Moving back, he did the same. Sighing loud with roll of your eyes, you knew you’d never get rid of him. You thought for a moment, staring down into the waters. Seeing your own rippled reflection. An idea crossed your mind as you turned round. Locking eyes with the first in command. You started moving as he walked up to you. You moved towards the cockpit where the quarters were downstairs. He came behind you.

“I’m feeling a bit exhausted. I’m going rest a bit…” – you spoke quickly widening your eyes. – “Since I have nothing else to do but wait.” – you added not wanting to rise any suspicion. He’d knew your character a bit. With him on your tail, you went down to your quarters. Opening the door to enter. You looked surprised at him when he entered your quarters as well. – “I beg your pardon?” – you said. – “Orders from my prince, my lady.” – he outed very loyal. It made you quirk your eyebrow. – “Did your prince tell you to enter my quarter and watch me sleep?” – you asked.

“No my lady.” – he answered honourable, keeping his gaze up. – “Then give me my privacy!” – you called out, showing him the door. – “I have orders my lady…” – he pleaded as you had no ears for it. – “Privacy!” – you shouted giving him a shove towards the door. – “You can do your duties at my door.” – you suggested forcing him out. The first in command stumbled out of your room. – “My…” – he started, greeted by a shut door in his face. He took a soft breath, turning around to stand in front of your door.

Arms crossed to make sure no one would enter or leave without him knowing. Exhaling loud with your hands on your hips, you looked around the room. Opening your closet, you searched for a disguise. Then you climbed on your bed to the small window, just big enough for you to fit through if you squeezed. Setting your hands, you jumped on your bed to hoist yourself up. Stiffening your lips to keep a scream out, you nearly tilted over, head down into the water. Holding yourself, you squeezed and squirmed yourself through the window. Knowing you had to dive head first out anyways.

After a lot of wringing and squirming your body plopped out of the window, diving into the water. There was a big splash as you hoped no one had heard it. Slowly rising from the water, you gasped loud. Before any of the soldiers could come and see what it was, you took a deep breath. Lowering yourself to swim underwater and out of sight.

Only once you were at a clear distance from the ship, you emerged above water. Swimming the last to shore. Drenched and out of breath, you got on land. Letting yourself fall on your back to catch your breath. Limbs spread out to let the sun warm your clothing. After a good few minutes, you got up. Hiking up to Omashu. Having no idea what you’d find there. One thing was sure. You needed to avoid Zuko at any cost.

After a while of hiking, you found a trail of people making way for the city. You followed them, trying to fit in as your clothes were still wet. Some people turned their heads confused or with prejudice towards you when you caught up with them. The trail of people seemed to be endless as the great city of Omashu rose up against the sky. An immense city taking your breath away.

Quickening up your pace, you wanted to reach the city doors sooner. You staid close to some of the people in front of you. Keeping your head low as you pretended to belong with them. Entering the city unnoticed. The city was buzzing as it made you feel alive once more. The energy of the city shooting through you like spark.

With dazzling eyes and wonder you ran from cart to cart. Seeing their wares. If you could you would’ve bought so much. Standing by a cart with a melon in your hand, your eyes widened. Through the cart, you saw some familiar faces. The flying monkey being so obvious. Adjusting the hood better over your head, you turned around not wanting the Avatar to see you.

Placing the melon back, you lowered yourself a little to sneak away. Peeking to them once more, your eyes locked with an unfamiliar boy. He did seem to tag along with them. His gaze narrowed on you as you quickly looked away. Hurrying away. Moving through the streets, avoiding to bump into others, you gasped loud. Turning around immediately at the sight of Iroh.

You knew Zuko would be nearby. With your head low and hood pulled the farthest down, you walked back. Without seeing much of where you were walking, you bumped hard against someone. – “Apologies.” – you mumbled out without a glance, simply moving your hand up for them to not draw any attention to your face. The person you had bumped into yelled.

“Watch it!” – you immediately recognized the voice. Zuko’s voice. Trying to steady your alarming beating heart, you hurried away, leaving him clueless of who he had bumped into. Zuko furrowed his brows watching the cloaked figure disappear into the crowd. Slowly tilting his head as their step seemed familiar. Anxiously, you weren’t enjoying the city anymore.

Every turn it felt like you’d bump into the Avatar or Zuko. Sure to be exposed. Panting loud, you needed to escape the city as you wanted no more. You wanted to leave. To return to the ship save and sound. Constantly looking over your shoulder to make sure you weren’t followed. Rounding a corner, you bumped into something sturdy. A pair of hands clasping tight around your arms. – “Well, well.” – the person spoke as you gasped loud.

Your hood got pulled back by him so that he could see your face. Slightly panicking, you tried to break free. – “What’s got you on edge?” – he questioned as you noticed more people came crowding around you. – “Let me go!” – you insisted. He smiled with that stupid twig between his teeth. – “Now why would I do that?” – he replied teasingly. With a snap of his finger, his friends approached. You tried to scream for help, but got muzzled.

A rope went swiftly around your hands before you could do anything. – “Don’t be so difficult.” – the boy said removing the twig from between his teeth watching you struggle. – “I just want to have a little chat with you.” – he grabbed your chin, holding your face up to him. – “Take her away.” – he ordered as they pushed you forwards.

“Let me go!” – you called out, struggling against the ropes. No one seemed to assist or even make an effort to help out. Turning your head, you looked around for anyone that would help. By a cart he stood as your eyes locked on him. The boy slowly pulled his disguise down in shock. Zuko. There was no denying it anymore. He saw you. He saw you being dragged away as you hoped he wouldn’t be too mad. You disappeared into the shadows led away from the busy city.

You got sat down with a shove. – “Jet what are you going to do with her?” – one of them asked. Jet raised his hand to silence him. He set his foot down on a log to lean down to you. With wide eyes, you stared back at him. His eyes fell on your chest, seeing something red under your disguise. He started disrobing you, removing the cloak to reveal your clear fire nation attire. He gasped loud, stumbling back. – “She’s fire nation.” – one of the smaller one’s called out.

Jet’s face seemed to contract with anger, grabbing you by your shirt. Lifting you a bit up from the ground. – “You filthy fire girl! Here to commit more murder?” – he yelled at you, making you shake your head rapidly. If only he removed the cloth from your mouth, you would be able to speak with him. Plead with him that you had no such desires. – “I know your kind. You only bring ruin and death.” – he clenched his fist harder around your clothing.

He let go of you, dropping you to the ground. Jet was brazing with anger. Scratching his fingers furiously through his hair. He grunted loud, grabbing for a stick, holding it into the crackling fire. It started to burn as he spun back around to you. – “I’ll show you just how much pain you caused.” – he called out. Your eyes widened with fear. Unable to defend yourself. Shaking your head, you wiggled further away from him as he approached. Jet kept coming closer till he stumbled forwards by a sudden force.

“Hands off!” – you heard loud. Jet looked back as you looked surprised at an angered Zuko. Zuko grunted loud throwing a fire punch towards him so the torch dropped out of his hand. Jet ordered his men to attack Zuko. Zuko kicked a flying speer aside with his foot. Sweeping his other leg up to bring a man down with one swift kick. He needn’t even use his fire bending to take them on. Jet called it out, revealing his weapons as he ran towards Zuko.

Zuko backed away when Jet’s weapon swung down on him. Trying to rip him open. Zuko kicked at his wrist, so that the weapon flew up. With still one weapon in hands, swung and slashed Jet it at Zuko’s chest. Zuko deflected it, kicking another boy back that wanted to approach him from the back. Zuko hit Jet in his stomach, making him stumble back. – “You think you can take in Omashu?” – Jet called out to taunt him. – “No!” – Zuko shouted back. – “You shouldn’t have taken my wife!” – he made clear swinging his leg at Jet. Jet got hit, falling back.

Out of anger, Zuko let the ground burn, forming a burning circle around Jet. Jet looked panickily around him. Zuko stepping through the fire with a murderous look in his eyes. His hands burning with fire ready to hurt Jet till he heard your muffled cries. Lifting his head up, he saw one of Jet’s friends was near you. You were kicking him back to keep him away. Zuko inhaled sharp, sending his fire at him. It hit the kid, making him roll over. Zuko ignored Jet, making his way over to you. Jet scrambled to his feet, rallying his friends up to leave. They scrambled as Zuko knelt down to you.

With a sour expression he undid you from your ropes. His silence was chilling as he removed the cloth from your mouth. He didn’t help you up as you had to get up on your own strength. His silence was even worse. You’d rather have him yell at you than this treatment. Zuko started walking as you went after him. The two of you neared the city once more as you dared to speak. – “Zuko…” – you said softly wanting him to say something. Zuko turned around, grabbing you by the arms and pushing you hard up against the wall.

“What did I tell you?” – he yelled out, giving you an extra push against the wall. – “Why do you always disobey me Y/n! I told you to stay on the ship for a reason! If I hadn’t seen you, you’d be burned now!” – he outed in anger and worry. His reaction made you swallow in shame. – “I’m…I’m sorry.” – you answered. – “No you are not! If you would, you’d listen to me! You could’ve been killed today Y/n. Do you understand that?” – he scolded giving you an extra push against the wall. He walked off as you knew you had taken it too far now.

Iroh was very confused and stunned seeing you tag along behind his nephew in the great city of Omashu. Zuko didn’t wish to speak about it. Your trip to Omashu bringing more difficulties along than you anticipated. Iroh sacrificed himself to draw away attention from Zuko. Zuko and you fled the city of Omashu. Now it was him and you alone to find his uncle. Zuko was kneeling down, watching the tracks. Letting his fingers trail over them in the mud.

“Zuko.” – you said feeling the need to speak. He hummed loud to acknowledge he had heard you. – “Thank you…” – you spoke. Zuko slowly rose not engaging much in the conversation. – “Thank you for saving me even when I went against your word.” – you humbly moved your hands behind your back. – “I’m really sorry.” – you apologized, not wanting him to be mad at you. Zuko hummed soft not saying much. His silence frustrated you a bit.

You knew you were at fault, but you didn’t like the silent treatment. Exhaling loud, you walked up to Zuko. Turning him by his shoulder to you. Pressing your lips hard on his. You wanted a reaction from him, it didn’t matter what. Zuko’s eyes stood wide before he fully understood what was happening.

He slowly closed his eyes, placing his hand against the back of your head. Tilting his head a bit to return the affection in your kiss. Something that came as a surprise to you. Both of you parted gazing lovingly at each other. Zuko grabbed your hand. With a bit of a smile on his lips, he walked with you continue the search for his uncle.

-----------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[anystalker707]

Pretty whimpers

Pairing: Monkey D. Luffy x [gn, amab] Reader Summary: Luffy decides to make you company while you're on night watch... or that he needs your company, actually. Tags: Edging / Whimpering / Clinging / Fingering / Penetration / Hes just a baby, rip

Requested by @akashababy ["Can you do Luffy x Top male reader"]

MASTERLIST

          You sighed as you leaned with your side against the couch, arms over the backrest, observing the moon—it was full, hanging in the dark sky among the shiny stars, reflected by the calm sea in trembling water. Nothing but darkness and stars were on the horizon, which would probably continue for the following hours, since Nami had chosen a peaceful location to spend the sleeping hours. It was a nice night, and you were used to the watch duty, so it would hopefully be peaceful, even if you weren’t exactly prepared for it, talking in terms of hours of sleep.

Silence took over, only interrupted by the familiar sound of waves against the ship's sides, gently rocking it, quiet enough for you to hear the ringing in your ears that resulted from all the loud mess during the day.

A sigh escaped your lips as you stretched a little, groaning, about to lie down on the couch when the hatch to the crow’s nest suddenly opened and made you stop in your tracks. It was predictable, somewhat, but you didn’t move at all while following the jelly-like form that Luffy always melted into whenever he was sleepy. His arms stretched and wrapped around you before he slowly dragged closer and groaned, burying his face in your neck.

You raised your eyebrows lightly before slowly wrapping your arms around him. “Luffy?” You poked his side lightly, but at the lack of response, you pressed a hand to his forehead to push him away enough to take a look at his face—he had a light frown on his features, mumbling incoherently. “Luffy? Babe, what are you doing here?”

Despite how Luffy didn’t say anything in response, you presumed that he’d been hearing you when he pouted in response. You sighed and nudged him a little more.

“Mmgh, I wanted to sleep with you,” he whined as he weakly tried to fight against your palm and nuzzle your neck again, but he still couldn’t do a lot.

“Yeah, okay, you sure do,” you sighed, narrowing your eyes lightly at Luffy. He pouted more, and his lips only returned to normal when you finally let go of his forehead and pressed some kisses to your neck; he could finally snuggle against you properly, happily. He mumbled something that tickled your skin, once again incoherent. You shook your head and exhaled softly, looking out the window once more.

It would all be okay if Luffy didn’t start squirming too much, wrapping his legs around your hips as he shifted and ground against you, and fuck, that’s what he was there for. If he’d wanted to sleep with you, he would’ve simply done it earlier.

“Luffy,” you mumbled with a sigh, moving your legs a little in an attempt to get him to react, and Luffy did, pulling you closer and sinking his teeth into your neck, right at a sensitive area. “Fuck,” you gasped and tightened your grip on him instinctively. “Damn it…”

Your protests fell deaf in his ears as Luffy kept biting on your neck, sloppily nipping and sucking on the same sensitive spot until you couldn’t help but push your hips up against his while cursing under your breath. He most likely left a mark behind—an exaggerated one—, but the sleepiness and arousal clouding your mind didn’t allow you to care about it.

“Mmph,” Luffy groaned and mumbled your name through a breath as he adjusted himself on your lap, hands meeting behind your neck and trailing into your shirt, rubbing the bit of skin he could reach. “Fuuuck,” he groaned; his cock ground perfectly against yours, making him shudder as his thighs tightened around you.

“Luffy—”

Lips pressed against yours, interrupting whatever you had to say and erasing the words from your mind until you could finally process the situation and start kissing Luffy in return. His kisses were always so messy and sloppy, and you always found yourself enjoying it, letting your lips move in sync with his own, even allowing his tongue into your mouth after it trailed along your bottom lip.

Luffy’s hands were on the back of your neck to hold your head in place and successfully deepen the kiss and snatch a throaty moan from you, given how intense it felt. Ah, fuck. You couldn’t resist it for longer, holding Luffy’s hips still and grinding against them, seeking more of that damn friction. Every nibble on your lips sent sparkles of pleasure running down your spine. He tugged on your lips with his teeth, sucked, and licked over the bite marks, all with his eyes closed, invested in making out in a way that you were barely able to keep up with.

“Please,” Luffy breathed, his eyebrows knitted together in the middle of his forehead. He kept grinding, not even bothering to meet your motions.

“You’re a problem.” A breath escaped your swollen lips as you slowly slipped your hands down, letting them rest on his ass to give them a light squeeze before you reached into his shorts’ pocket—the lube was there, as predicted. He lazily allowed you to undress him, helping at minimum, but he seemed a little eager when you were the one undressing, even allowing his eyes to crack open a little bit.

Luffy let out a long and hoarse hum, arching his back against the couch in the new position, and gasped at the cold air hitting his cock directly—it twitched, but not as much as it did when you traced his entrance with lubed-up fingers. He whined and arched his back just with it, groaning as he mumbled in a request for more, and you quickly granted it.

Two of your fingers pushed deep into Luffy—your initial intention wasn’t to finger him, but you decided to have some fun with him. Maybe a payback for disturbing your focus during the night watch. You were between his legs, bent over him, propped up by an elbow to observe his face while your fingers thrust in and out of his hole at a medium pace. His eyes remained closed despite everything, pressed shut as he moaned and squirmed with the new stimulus.

You curled your fingers, pressing them along his spongy walls until you found the spot that made him arch his back and curl his toes, and you didn’t hesitate to caress the spot. He looked so cute, squirming and whining, hands closing around nothing as he sought the support he couldn’t find.

“Fuck,” Luffy gasped, and his eyes rolled back into his head when your free hand now wrapped around his cock to stroke it in rhythm with your fingering. Your movements around his cock were a little restricted at first, but they soon became easier with the pre-cum that dripped down the tip, acting as a makeshift lube. His thighs quivered and threatened to close around your hands, but you managed to keep them apart with your elbows and hooking a leg over his.

The stimulation was clearly too much. Beads of sweat accumulated on his forehead already, and Luffy moaned through gritted teeth, clawing at the couch’s cushion. “Please, ‘m going… Mmph, ‘m close…” It was fast and predictable from Luffy, with all this stimulation. He cried softly, arching his back off the couch, but your hands withdrew before it was too late, resulting in cries from Luffy as the orgasm fizzled away. He squirmed, trying to seek more of what was already gone.

You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips, biting your lip as you guided Luffy back into place, rubbing circles into the inner sides of his thighs. “Was that good?”

“Mmph, I need you, you inside me, please,” Luffy babbled as he observed you through half-open eyes, thrusting his hips into the air as he tried to wrap his legs around you again.

“Okay, okay,” you mumbled with a nod. “I will.”

The lube warmed up against your hand before you wrapped it around your cock, groaning at finally receiving the much-needed touch, even if it was from yourself, for a brief moment. A breath slowly escaped your lips as you found a comfortable position between Luffy’s legs again, only letting the tip of your cock rest against his fluttering hole at first so that you could watch him squirm more in need. Cute. You couldn’t hold back for a lot longer, though.

Finally, you pushed your cock in, gasping at the warm feeling of Luffy’s walls squeezing your cock as it thrust into him, slowly building a consistent pace. He let out a long moan with it, his expression melting into something more relaxed as your cock sank into him, finally giving him the pleasure he wanted so much.

“That’s it,” you moaned. The pace was only interrupted when you shifted to get on top of him again, propped up by an elbow beside him and allowing Luffy to wrap his arms around your neck while you fucked him.

“Mmph, (y/n) feels so good,” Luffy mumbled, kissing the side of your face. He arched his back, and his legs were enveloping your hips again, keeping you there as you increased your pace a little.

“I think I needed this,” you breathed mostly to yourself and buried your face in Luffy’s neck to return the messy kisses and nibbles that he had left on your neck. His moans grew whinier, and he held you tighter, scratching your back as he tried to keep his grip on them, poorly trying to rock his hips with yours. “You feel so good, Luf’,” you mumbled against his neck, your free hand massaging and squeezing his thigh.

“Yeah,” Luffy whined, and his legs quivered when your thrusts grew more intense.

You took your time to take in every detail of Luffy. The way his walls squeezed your cock tightly, how his short nails dragged up your skin, his heavy breathing against your ear, desperate whiny moans, thighs tightening around your hips… It felt so good. Heaven after the usual stress.

Luffy’s breath caught in his throat, and you could only conclude that all the stimuli from earlier were catching up now, bringing his orgasm close easier than usual. You paid closer attention to his mannerisms this time, keeping thrusting until his sounds were a pitch-higher, and his grip was tighter around you, so you pulled out.

Once again, Luffy was left to the agony of a fading orgasm, squirming and clinging to you for the touch that never came. He let out a sound that resembled a sob, wrapping his arms tighter around you and burying his face in your shoulder. “(Y/n),” he whined, crying out softly, “please, please, please, I need it…”

“Poor thing,” you mumbled, stroking his thigh. The sudden interruption was uncomfortable for you as well, but you couldn’t help the urge to edge Luffy again. His cries, the pleading, the whimpering… It all stirred the arousal in your lower stomach in such ways. You could hold on for a little longer until the orgasm distanced itself away from Luffy just enough. “You’re doing so well,” you whispered against his skin, between soft kisses to his shoulder, which seemed to soothe him enough.

It felt like an eternity had passed when you guided your cock into him again. A shiver ran down your spine, and you could only imagine what Luffy felt as his walls clenched around your cock when it was completely inside him again. He gasped, clinging to you again and letting out a long moan as your new pace picked up faster than before. Your cock ran into him faster and more intensely as well, making your bodies gently rock whenever they met.

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” Luffy mumbled into your ear, and you wondered if tears were escaping his eyes, given the wetness that accumulated where your faces were pressed together.

Even if you wanted to, you didn’t think you could stop this time. Luffy milked your cock so efficiently, and your orgasm was in the distance already, so all that you needed to do was seek it now.

The new angle of your hips made you hit a spot inside Luffy that made him go all tight around your cock, and his moans went a pitch higher all over again, signing that you were on the right path. Luffy’s hands went everywhere with it, scratching your back, holding the back of your neck, tugging on your hair, but he finally returned them to their original place on your back.

“‘M close, don’t stop, please,” Luffy insisted as his head fell back against the cushion.

“I won’t,” you reassured with a groan, gripping his thigh tighter. Your elbow was starting to burn from being pressed against the cushion for so long and because of the friction, but you were almost there. It wouldn’t stop you now.

Your nails dragged along Luffy’s skin, and he was cumming, crying out loudly as his cum painted the space between the two of you, all white and sticky. He came for a little longer than usual, and it was enough to trigger your own orgasm, which ran up your thighs and tightened the knot in your lower stomach before your load was shot inside Luffy. You kept thrusting, not caring about the mess it would make on the couch—it was too late to think about it—, just about how good it felt to finally release, to reach the peak of pleasure inside Luffy like that. Fuck.

“Babe,” you mumbled breathlessly, cupping Luffy’s cheek and kissing all over his face until finally kissing his lips. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” The fuck made the sleepiness tug on your eyelids and muscles, making them heavier despite your remaining duty of watching the surroundings of the ship for any potential danger during the night hours. “I’ll kill you,” you muttered in aggressive affection, not caring that he was already mostly asleep while you still talked to him.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[morrotober]

Morrotober 2024 Prompts

I'm late but this year's Morrotober prompts are finally here!! Come check them out above!

As always, you are free to interpret these prompts however you'd like! And if you'd like us to reblog your work here, be sure to tag @morrotober or mark your post with any of the following tags: #morrotober #morrotober2024 and #morrotober 2024

We will only start reblogging posts in October on the day of the prompt (no early reblogs in September if you choose to start early), and will continue to reblog through November. If you submit a piece later than November, you can also tag our blog, which will ensure we see and reblog it.

Also, come hang out with us in the Morrotober discord server :D

If you have any triggering or sensitive content in your work, please be sure to tag your post accordingly.

For those who can't see the images for the prompt list, please see below for the text format.

Happy almost Morrotober everyone!

Week 1: Elements/Nature (October 1 - 6)

Oct. 1: Elements || Elemental Inheritance || The Difference between Wind and Air

Oct. 2: Water || Downpour || “There’s always a first time.”

Oct. 3: Opposites || Shadows || “Long before time had a name…”

Oct. 4: Dragons || “Where did you get that?”

Oct. 5: Airjitzu || Temporal Displacement

Oct. 6: Colors || “Red is for rage”

Week 2: Reflection/New Beginnings (October 7 - 13)

Oct. 7: Childhood || Full Potential || “Back in my day…”

Oct. 8: Curses || Empty Titles || "You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?"

Oct. 9: Self Discovery || Inner Peace || “I’ll try again.”

Oct. 10: Reflection || Mirrors || Death

Oct. 11: Rot || Mold || “If only I could go back.”

Oct. 12: Memory || Fate vs Destiny

Oct. 13: Crimes || Smothered || Regrets

Week 3: AUs/Free Week (October 14 - 20)

Oct. 14: The Lego Ninjago Movie || “You want me to go back to school???”

Oct. 15: Trying New Things || Baffled by Technology || “Please don’t touch that”

Oct. 16: In Another Life || Disney Villain || "Is that magic?!"

Oct. 17: AUs || Free Day 

Oct. 18: Bow and Arrow || “Put that away!”

Oct. 19: Reading || Movies || “This is better.”

Oct. 20: Outfit Swap || Zero to One Hundred

Week 4: Celebration/Festivities (October 21 - 27)

Oct. 21: Day of the Departed || Remembrance 

Oct. 22: Rice || Ketchup || “I’m hungry, can we eat yet?”

Oct. 23: Snacks || Cooking || "I think that's enough, don't you agree?" 

Oct. 24: Gardens || Flowers || Love

Oct. 25: Climbing || Sunny Day

Oct. 26: Dancing || Music || Laughter

Oct. 27: Gifts || Heirlooms || “I did it for you.”

Week 5: Halloween/Spooky Vibes (October 28 - 31)

Oct. 28: Pumpkins || Moon || Cats

Oct. 29: Ghosts || Hauntings || “I would never leave you.”Oct. 30: Costume Party || Witches || Potions Oct. 31: Halloween || Candy || Bats