#I feel like no matter what I will never be allowed to be happy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

plumpybread · 3 days ago

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Would love an explanation for your Inazuma cast's weight! I know Itto starts gaining as a sign of rebellion, right? What about the others?

Of course! The Inazuman guys are very interesting, since the nation is infamous in the AU for being extremely anti-obesity and the polar opposite of Fontaine, but most of them have unique reasons behind going against the status quo:

Gorou:

He had always been an extremely disciplined young man and a formidable leader in the troops he lead, but there was something he found out that soon began to challenge his self-restraint; the secret illegal smuggling of Fontainian food conducted by the Fatui to purposefully fatten up and weaken Watatsumi Island's troops without their knowledge. A strange surge of obesity had sparked between the men of Watatsumi as months went by, not understanding why the food they ate was so much more addictive and tasty than they remembered.

Gorou did the best he could to get his peers on the field and to avoid overindulging, but even he had began falling victim to the drastic power of Fontainian food, heavily struggling to get back in shape no matter how much he exercised every day, and starting to get worried on what the future might hold.

Kazuha:

After the decline and fall of the Kaedehara clan, Kazuha escaped from Inazuma, barely making it alive from the soldier's pursuit. With a new outlook in life, he decided he wanted a life full of the freedom he never had. As a temporary member of Beidou's ship crew, he began enjoying the little things in life, such as food and beer, lots of beer.

His belly quickly began bloating in size as months went by, taut and round, a sign of his newfound joy in constant drinking with friends, and he could not care less. If anything, it just made him happy, he'd gotten used enough to his chiseled abs, maybe getting fat was simply more his style now.

Heizou:

I had always envisioned Heizou to be a heavier guy. Although Inazuma has very low obesity rates, it's not 0%, and some guys just grew up pretty fat and never got around losing the weight. He had likely been born with a very slow metabolism, which simply lead to weight piling on easily.

He's a bit rebellious in nature, so he might get a little kick knowing he's way fatter than what people want him to be. He doesn't plan on losing weight nor is he actively wishing to get fatter, he's simply content with his appearance, and if he ends up gaining more weight, so be it!

Wanderer:

Scaramouche, once a puppet of the Raiden Shogun herself, set free to live freely, became a mentally scarred, evil Fatui Harbinger after a life filled with betrayal. After being defeated by Aether and Nahida in Sumeru, he chose to erase his existence from the world and assumed a new identity as a nameless Wanderer, seeking redemption and a fresh start in life.

Though most of his memory of his past life had been completely erased from his mind, he still felt an internal disdain for Inazuma and its values, which is why he felt a very odd, comforting feeling when he looked at his body in the mirror and he noticed he had gained some weight.

Since assuming his new identity as a wanderer, he had allowed his own body to start growing as fat as it wanted. He visited many restaurants throughout Sumeru and did not deprive himself from enjoying good food to its fullest. His fatness brought him a joy and comfort that he couldn't put into words, and he knew he didn't plan on actively gaining weight, but watching his stomach hang lower and his limbs grow plusher month after month made him very happy.

Thoma:

Like most men born in Mondstadt, Thoma was quite heavy since early on in his life, and he was likely going to be just as obese as everyone else in the city when he grew up. Unfortunately, when he went to delivery Dandelion Wine to Inazuma one day at a young age, he became stranded due to unforseen circumstances.

Despite being an outsider, Thoma's sociable nature and adeptness at building connections allowed him to integrate seamlessly into Inazuman society and grant himself some easy jobs. However, due to him being on his own and struggling with money, he lost weight easily, some days even spent starving after not being able to make enough to eat that day.

When he was an adult, he earned the trust of the Kamisato Clan, and was brought on to live with them while he worked as a housekeeper, taking on responsibilities such as cooking, cleaning, and managing household affairs.

Kamisato Ayato, the head of the Kamisato clan and a young man of similar age to Thoma, quickly grew affectionate of him, and wanted to know everything about Thoma. One day, he confessed to Ayato the fact that he used to be pretty big in the past when he lived in Mondstadt, and how his upbringing in Inazuma caused him to lose all the weight as he now had a very lean, toned body. Ayato's interest was immediately piqued. He suggested in that silver-tongued way of his that he might want to look into gaining weight and embracing his Mondstadtian culture, and Thoma simply didn't want to disappoint Ayato.

Some years down the line, Thoma blew up and became undeniably obese. His body was fat all over, and he huffed and puffed and waddled down the halls of the Kamisato estate in a way Ayato could not detach his eyes from. Thoma did not mind his very high weight by itself too much, though it did start to tire him out quite a bit during his day job, something Ayato quickly fixed by reducing his work hours by half and extending his lunch breaks so he could rest (and eat) for longer.

Ayato was utterly fascinated by Thoma and his body. Obesity was rare and socially punished in their nation, but Thoma had the excuse of being an outsider (and one from Mondstadt at that) that allowed him to gain weight without too much judgement. Even so, he didn't leave the Kamisato Estate much for people to see him anyways, always busy tending to important things inside the building, such as private meetings with Ayato every day at tea time where he would be told to lay down next to Ayato as he was hand-fed all sorts of foods and pastries in a silence of mutual enjoyment.

Itto:

Itto was a feared Oni in the streets of Inazuma, not for his fearsome strength, or for his spiky, red horns, but for his annoying habit of stealing people's food when they weren't looking.

The massive Oni only cared about one thing and one thing only; rebelling against Inazuma's societal norms. Mistreated and misunderstood since birth because he was an Oni, Itto simply didn't care or want to fit into Inazuman society anymore because he knew he would never be able to even if he tried, so he set his own path in life.

Early on, getting fat was just one of the many ways to show a middle finger and protest against the Inazuman regime and values, but it quickly stuck, and he wanted more, he wanted to get fatter, not only to make a statement, but because he realized he really enjoyed feeling heavy, and so he began gorging on food for many years to come.

Now, Itto sat comfortably past the 900 pound milestone, and he was amongst the heaviest men in the entire nation. Thanks to his Oni musculature, he was still able to somewhat comfortably move around the streets of Inazuma, but he loved how heavy his massive belly felt, pinning him down no matter if he was standing or laying down. The way it sagged way past his knees, and how it'd slap against his legs through each step, he couldn't get enough of it, and he knew he wanted more. He wanted his belly to reach the ground, to know what it'd feel like to be so obscenely obese his own stomach was so massive it dragged across the floor of every room and every road he walked through, and he was going to work hard to make that his reality.

#GenshinObesityAU #ask #plumpywriting

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impish-baby · 24 hours ago

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which of your familial yandere’s do you think would best handle a moody teenager? I’m definitely a fan of the fics where the reader is cute and obedient but I never see much for the older agere’s 😭

This ask is so cute- apologies if I made teen regressor! reader too stereotypical, I just found it funny

Valerian: wants to be a cool parent so bad but they're old-

They do not care for most modern technology but they're sitting there with their reading glasses trying to google all the current lingo and what's hot with the kids these days, will definitely come up to you asking why your generation is into certain things (boomer but times 10,000, they've been alive centuries)

It's a good thing for you if you're into certain alternative fashions because Valerian's wardrobe is stocked full of choices for more goth or lolita looks! They never mind sharing, they're more than happy to have you giving their pieces another life (maybe will be a little miffed if you decide to use something for a DIY without asking first, but they get over it fairly quickly and immediately turn to fawning over your work)

Tentatively let's you go out to concerts and different things, with a chaperone of course! They will not hear any moaning over you being old enough to go by yourself, you're still their baby and need someone to make sure you're safe! (Don't think you'll make any friends though, for some reason everyone avoids you like the plague..)

Rowen: does not stop talking about when he was in a band in high school, you could like a totally different genre of music and he still chats about it because he's (admittedly poorly) trying to connect with you

He's dealt with two other kids before, so attitude problems are no stranger to him! He never takes anything personally, but will threaten to take your door if you keep slamming it (never actually does, he just finds it to be the most annoying part) I think he'd get you lots of journals and self help books just because he knows how difficult and large emotions can be at that age

Unfortunately, you're still not allowed to go anywhere unless you're willing to make it a family trip! None of his kids are allowed in town without him, and sneaking out isn't really an option when he (not to mention your siblings) can out pace you easily. You'll get locked up in the den for the effort though :p

Sylvia: She... does not do well with teen regressors (._.) She tries her best of course, but is very used to babies/toddlers

Her first thought when you're in a mood is that you're throwing a tantrum and she'll start to treat it as such, which does the opposite of helping because it just feels like she's making fun of you-

She messages her coven apologizing for her own teen years..

Eventually, figures out that things go smoother if she takes on more of a big sister role instead of a motherly one. Is very much into gossiping and watching TV together (still doesn't let you watch anything too 'inappropriate', she frowns anytime there's even a mild curse)

Thoren and Rune: *sniffles* they grow up so fast.. they're both sad about their fledgling deciding they're oh so mature and broody

Rune has a habit of mimicking you, annoyingly enough. The deep sighs, eye rolls, he finds it funny how much it bothers you (and despite your efforts, he can tell you also find it humorous sometimes, no feeling escapes the bond)

They mandate cuddling, not that they didn't before, it's just worse now that you act like you're too good for some snuggles from your sires! It doesn't matter how much you fuss about it, you're being dragged into the nest one way or another

My personal ranking for this group best to worst is: Rowen, Thoren and Rune, Valerian, and lastly Sylvia

#platonic yandere #famial yandere #platonic yandere x reader #yandere x reader #yandere age regression #yandere agere #forced age regression #forced agere #you've got mail! 📨#oc: valerian 🥀#oc: sylvia 🔮#oc: rune 🍇#oc: thoren 🌿

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macabr3-barbi3 · 20 hours ago

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I'm late but Happy Valentine's Day y'all 💗 a huge huge huge thank you to my lovely @fraugwinska for this lovely banner she created for me for this fic bc I was struggling xD also a big thank you to my wives @hazelfoureyes @sugoi-writes @minkdelovely for the idea 👀

Vox has a very special outfit for you for Valentine's Day.

Tags: Vox in Lingerie; gratuitous descriptions of said lingerie; deepthroating; mirror sex; porn with Feelings™️

When Vox had shown up at your apartment door to take you out for an evening, he looked fantastic as he always did. You thought he looked great no matter what he wore- his usual business casual, the ‘dressed down’ version with his rolled up sleeves and just his vest, the shark adorned pajama pants you had gotten him as a joke that he slept in twice a week minimum. But this Vox was something you weren’t treated to often. That smooth, suave smile of his in place when he met you on the stoop; the dark blue of his complexion complimented by the smooth black fabric of his suit; a bright red flower perched in his breast pocket that matched the bowtie at his throat.

Perfection- he wore the brand of his company well.

He threw an arm around your shoulders confidently, only to nearly jump a mile when you threaded your arm around his back like you usually did. Eyebrow quirked, you smile when you see the blush that takes over his screen but allow him to guide you without comment into the back seat of the limo he had ordered for the two of you.

Setting into the comfortable leather, you go to rest your hand on his knee and he jerks out of your reach, scooting almost all the way across the seat. “You’re unusually jumpy today,” you remark, and the blush returns, tinted pixels across his screen that he probably doesn’t even realize are giving him away.

He waves you off. “It’s not every day I’m going on an honest-to-Satan date with a gorgeous Sinner on Valentine’s day,” he grins back, finally coming closer and wrapping an arm across your shoulders again, body angled slightly away. “Forgive a guy for being a little nervous- I don’t want to mess anything up tonight.” The smile he gives you is soft, downright adoring, and your own face flushes dark with heat as you look away.

The silence between you is never awkward. There had been times, when you were still just one of Velvette’s assistants, that moments that weren’t filled with talking or laughing or moaning felt stifling- as you had gotten to know each other that faded, and now you spent evenings in his penthouse seated at the bar together; looking over magazine spreads while he read emails in silence, hand clasped together resting on the countertop between you.

The restaurant he takes you to is fancy, expensive, and packed- like one would expect on a holiday like this one. But Vox, of course, had sprung for a VIP experience, seating you at a table on a balcony overlooking the crowd, soft candlelight filling the space and enough roses to choke a cupid. Ever the fashion enthusiast, you delighted in the opportunity to people-watch from above, eyes gliding appreciatively- and sometimes judgingly- across the outfits that the masses of Hell had worn out for the special occasion.

When Vox flags the waiter down, he catches his fingers on the edge of his collar and tugs gently- just enough to loosen the tightness of his bowtie a smidge. And as he does so you catch sight of it, a glimpse of bright color at his throat that contrasts beautifully against the dark navy of his skin.

Lace.

Your stomach turns with such a sharp bolt of arousal that you’re almost embarrassed by it. Your cheeks flood with heat while he speaks with the waiter, muttering as he gestured to the menu and complained about the wine choices that were available. His shirt has returned to it’s normal position; the sight you had caught was so brief that you could almost think that you had imagined the delicate scrap of red were it not for the conversation you had had with Vox months ago.

Tipsy on whiskey in his penthouse a few months into your entanglement, Valentino had swanned in to complain and strode out with the same sass he usually had about him, and your eyes had lingered as he spoke on the bright teal crisscrossed lines of the top he wore. They drew your eyes to specific places strategically- the arch of his collarbones, the V of his abdomen, the sharp angles of his hips. Val might have been an asshole most of the time, but you would concede that the moth knew what looked good; especially on himself.

Vox had caught the look on your face while his partner had been talking. “Got your eye on Val?” He had asked a little testily, eyes narrowed as his fingers settled a little more possessively onto your thigh where you sat next to him, legs draped sideways across his. “One powerful Vee not enough for you, doll? Trying to collect a set?”

You had rolled your eyes, scooting closer to fully perch yourself in his lap so you could run your fingers over his skin, trail them teasingly down the sides of his screen. “You’re the only one for me,” you assured him, and pretended you didn’t hear the little wheeze of relieved air from the fans on the back of his head. “I was just admiring Val’s outfit- pretty packaging is pretty packaging, regardless of the present underneath. He always looks good, especially when he wears stuff like that. I appreciate it when a man isn’t afraid of a little lace and color.”

He had chuckled, low and dark as he leaned in and trailed his tongue along the column of your neck. “I’m not afraid of anything,” he whispered, the heat of his screen warm and comforting against your cheek. “You wanna see me dolled up, is that it? Wrapped in some delicate, frilly nonsense like this?” He had slipped his hand up under your shirt then, his thumb brushing gently across the soft satin and lace that covered the underside of your breast, forcing a breathy moan from your lips to ghost across his screen. “I think it looks better on you, but… we could talk about it.”

“You- ahh, you would do that for me?” His claw had flicked across your nipple through the thin fabric, his other hand coming up to turn you so you were facing him properly in his lap and starting to divest you of your clothing, paying a little more attention than he normally did to properly taking your underthings off rather than just tearing them. “Really?”

You remembered how turned on you had been just at the implication- that he would dress up for you, put that ruthless businessman facade on the shelf for a bit so you could ogle him in pretty clothing, maybe even lingerie if his automatic pull to your own undergarments could be a hint at what he would be willing to do. He had agreed enthusiastically as he stripped you, but once your clothes were off the idea had taken a back seat to riding Vox until his screen glitched out.

You thought he had forgotten; something he had probably dismissed as drunken rambling on your part, and an unspoken promise he would never have to fulfill on his end. But now that the possibility of it was there- that he was wearing something soft and pretty under his suit, just for you- you couldn’t shake the consuming lust that now boiled low in your abdomen, a flutter of the walls of your cunt at the thought.

The thought of it was hot- confirmation would be devastating.

You had to know. You wait until the waiter leaves and then you toe off one of your impractical heels and reach across the scant distance under the table, and Vox jerks in his seat when you make contact with the clothed surface of his calf. His eyes are wide when he looks up at you, the blush back in place, and the fact that his usual cocky smirk is nowhere to be found is the most damning evidence so far- this would hardly be the first time you had fooled around in public. Any other night he would be scooting his chair around to be closer to yours, sliding his fingers up under your dress to find you bare of any panties, casually unzipping his slacks under the cover of the tablecloth.

That he freezes like a deer is all the proof you need.

You brush your toe teasingly along the back of his muscle, leaning forward with your elbows on the table. “You look really good tonight,” you say, just loud enough for him to hear without having to enhance his audio processors.

He tries to play it off, unfolding his napkin and placing it in his lap as he chuckles. “That’s all part of the image, baby,” he tells you. “I can never look less than my best when I’m out- that’s why I keep you on my arm.”

He’s trying to deflect, you can tell- he knows something is up, that you suspect. But you didn’t end up a permanent fixture in Vox’s bed by playing coy about what you wanted, so you let your foot trail even higher, along the curve of his knee to rest on the firm muscle of his thigh. And there- Something firm under the fabric of his pants. You could feel the seam of something- a garter maybe, which made your breath catch and your panties damp. He hadn’t just thrown on a pretty top under his clothing and called it a day.

He had dressed up in a whole set for you.

You tug lightly at the strap that you feel under your foot, and Vox’s screen whites out for a moment. When his face blinks back on, an error message runs along the bottom: ohfuck.exe repeated in a rapidly blinking line. “Mmm, but I think you look extra good tonight. You know how I feel about good things in pretty packages.” You reach the final distance across the space between you, settling your foot directly in the gap between his thighs and pressing lightly. “Do you have something for me to unwrap later, Vox darling?”

And Sweet Satan, what a thrill it was to watch one of the most well spoken and influential men in Hell stutter over his words as he tried to speak. “I don’t- ahem, I’m not sure what you mean?” He stiffens his shoulders, grabs your foot between his legs in an effort to regain control of the situation. “And even if I did, something like that would be a surprise.”

You can feel the swell of his erection through his pants even as he tries to divert the location of your foot away from it. “I’m certainly surprised,” you concede, “and I can’t wait to see everything you have in store for me.” The waiter returns to pour you both a glass of some fancy wine that you can’t pronounce, and you take a sip while watching him over the rim of your glass through lowered lashes. After taking your orders he steps away again, and you admit defeat and remove your foot from Vox’s grasp.

That doesn’t mean that you’re giving up entirely though. “Why don’t you join me over here?” You offer, gesturing to the open space beside you while you use a toe to drag your heel close and slip it back on- you flutter your lashes deceptively. “I promise I’ll behave.”

You had no plans to do any such thing. And he doesn’t look like he believes you, but he scoots his chair closer anyway, careful not to disturb the table as he moves to sit in the most optimal position for you to misbehave under normal circumstances- on your right, with his back facing the thick curtain that blocked you from the rest of the restaurant. In a show of good faith, you keep your hands to yourself for the moment, pleased when he leans over to press a light kiss to your forehead before settling back into his chair.

You wait until he’s taken a sip of his own wine before reaching over to ghost your hand along his spine.

Vox chokes, quietly coughing under his breath while you touch him over his suit. And you can feel it; the thick strip of a bra where the hooks rest, the straps that reach up over his shoulder, some other pieces that you can’t identify but are dying to set your eyes on. You’ve hardly started to reach towards his waist to see what delights awaited you there when he finally regains his composure and grabs your arm. He intertwines his fingers with yours and sets them together firmly on the table.

“What happened to behaving yourself?” He says lowly, and you reach across with your other hand to caress the edge of his casing.

“How can I behave myself when I know something so tantalizing is waiting for me when we get home?” You tilt your head to one side, giving him your most pleading look. “I’m more than half tempted to forgo dinner altogether to get what I want, but I know you put a lot of thought into the date.”

You’ll never tire of watching his screen go red with an artificial blush. “Actually most of the actual planning went into the- surprise,” he admits reluctantly. “Who knew custom-made items like this took so long to make? The reservation was a well placed phone call and a threat to drag their name through twelve different kinds of shit on every channel; I just thought you’d want- you know, a little more of that romantic shit than we usually go for.”

You can feel your seductive expression fade and go soft, and you squeeze his hand tightly in yours. “I am having a great time here,” you tell him, “but in truth, there’s very few things that I can think of that are more romantic than knowing you’ve stepped out of your comfort zone- clothing wise- to do something fantastic for me.” You reach out and tug at his bowtie, getting another hint of that red fabric under his collar before you lean in, whisper gently into his audio processors. “It’s incredibly sexy and I haven’t even seen it yet.”

“Fuck me,” he breathes out. His screen glitches again, a fleeting crackle of white across it before he coughs and straightens his shoulders. “Right then- if you’re okay with it, doll, I suggest we get the fuck out of here.” He stands and offers you a hand, the picture of a suave gentleman- anyone else would never think that he was rushing to leave so you could strip that suit off him to see the lingerie he wore underneath it.

“Perfectly okay with me.” You take his hand and let him lead you out of the balcony, swiping the bottle of wine on your way. Vox ignores the protest of the waiter as he pulls you along, and the certain ridiculousness of the sight- Hell’s most notorious CEO dragging his girlfriend out of a distinguished restaurant by the hand while she clings to a pilfered bottle of expensive wine- was enough to make you laugh, a loud sound that drew attention as the pair of you raced through the restaurant. Vox heard the sound and grinned over his shoulder at you, a text bubble in the bottom corner of his screen confirming that his driver was already waiting at the front.

You pile into the limo, careful not to spill the wine as Vox clambers in after you, pulling you in close to kiss at your throat. “I hope you know how fucking nerve-wracking this has been,” he mutters, teeth nipping at your sensitive skin. “The things I do for you-”

“Are very much appreciated,” you say, “and definitely getting you laid tonight.” He groans into your ear, hot and low, and nearly sputters when you pull back. “But we’re not fucking in the limo. We’re waiting until we get home so I can peel that sexy fucking suit off you and see exactly what you have for me.”

He grumbles under his breath as you separate and take a long swig of the wine straight from the neck before passing it over to him.

The ride back to Vee tower feels too long, and your skin buzzes with anticipation, adrenaline and a simmering arousal that makes you feel as though your blood is on fire. You’ve hardly pulled into the parking garage before Vox reaches across the seat and pulls you into his chest, the door opening while the vehicle was still moving to zap the pair of you into the tower’s electrical system.

You’re deposited directly into the Penthouse bedroom; as reluctant as you are to pull away from him, the lights are completely out and the whole point of this was to see him. You mumble as much into his throat and he changes whatever setting he has to bring the room to brightness before you bite down and suck a dark bruise into the skin- one that would look lovely above that first bit of red lace you had seen.

He releases you and reaches for his buttons, nerves giving a barely noticeable tremor to his hands. “Just gonna sit back and enjoy the show?” He asks, and an eyebrow quirks when you still his fingers with your own and move them out of the way.

“Let me,” you say. “I want to be the one to do it- to unwrap you. You have no idea how much I need this.” And at your request his hands fall limply to his sides to let you have your way.

Inch by inch his suit was divested, revealing a vision so tantalizing you had to fight to keep your hands on his clothing instead of his skin. Vibrant red everywhere you looked- as you unbuttoned his shirt you were treated to a feast of silk and lace that clung to his skin like it had been painted on with a masterful, loving hand. What appears to be a fabric collar rested at his throat, the culprit of the first glimpse that you had gotten back at the restaurant- it sat pretty in the hollow of his throat, a strap bisecting his chest before it parted ways to wrap around his back, just above his waistline. The bra that covered his chest had nothing to truly fill it, but your mouth watered regardless when you tested your restraint and dipped your thumb beneath the cup to brush across one of his nipples- likely sensitive after wearing the unfamiliar material so long, Vox hissed at the sensation as you continued to undress him.

Reaching the buttons at his abdomen, a tight corset is hidden beneath the fabric, straps descending below the waistline of his pants to attach to the long socks that he had mentioned. The need to see him overwhelms you, your panties soaked beneath your own clothes that you hadn’t bothered to start removing yet, but the strip was part of the fun. You got to watch him lose his breath as you popped the button on his slacks, letting them simply pool high on his thighs where your leg was shoved between them while you positively drool at the tight cinch of his already thin waist. It doesn’t seem to be cutting into his skin, fitting like it was made for him- and knowing that he likely wouldn’t have gone to Velvette for this, you wonder distantly how he had gotten something so perfectly custom. You take a half step back, letting the fabric of his pants finally fall to his ankles without your thigh between his legs in the way.

Fuck.

Thigh high stockings, a sheer crimson, encase his legs, held in place by a simple snap that connects to the corset. And at the apex of his thighs, dainty panties that make the swell of Vox’s erection look obscene. You allow yourself a moment of contact, a hand placed gently on his arm to turn him so you could take a look from the back as well; he complies without protest, rotating on one stocking-clad heel. The back of his body is another landscape of beauty, dark navy interrupted only by the occasional light mark of a scar and the lingerie. Normally you didn’t pay much mind to his ass- he was obsessed with yours, but never gave you much of a chance to ogle his in return- but the thin strip of scarlet that peeked between his cheeks made it look pert, plush. The top of the panties rested enticingly on his hips, just below the bottom of the corset; the lines that the rest of the ensemble made were just as maddening, crisscrossed along his back and bringing your attention to the subtle musculature of his entire body, covered as it was in soft, sweet packaging. The femininity of the ensemble emphasized how toned he was, delicate frailty adorning his masculine form in such a way that you ached to press trembling lips to everything you could reach.

“Sweet Satan,” you finally mutter under your breath, the air leaving your lungs in the face of such awe-inspiring sensuality, and Vox stiffens up in front of you.

“Haah, finally gonna say something?” He asks, his hands clenching into fists at his side- you can tell he’s fighting the instinct to move them, to cover himself up. “Not as good as Val makes it look, I’m sure, but-”

“Shut up,” you interrupt him sternly, “and let me look at you.”

Your silence until now seems to have made him self conscious, like he didn’t just know somehow that your restraint was a mere thread of a tether keeping you from shoving him into the bed and clearing any thoughts from that boxy head of his. You turn him around again, this time allowing yourself to touch the bits of bare skin beneath your fingers until he’s facing you again, then stepping up on your tiptoes to kiss him with a shuddering breath.

He finally touches you back, pulling you closer as you slip your tongue into his mouth, the hard ridge of his cock pressing against your soft stomach. This was always one of your favorite parts of spending time together- unhurried kissing, gentle touches, simply taking the time to drink your fill of one another. “How can someone so intelligent,” you ask him as you pull away from his screen, “be so blind?” You press your lips to his pulse point, feeling the rapid beat of his heart where you’re connected, another physical reminder of the way that you affect him beyond making him hard. He’s nervous to be exposed in front of you like this, unaware of how desperately you need him, how fucking fantastic he looked doing this for you. How much you adored him in any state that he would offer himself to you.

You step away at last and give him a gentle nudge towards the bed; his knees simply give out, not so much sitting as falling onto the edge of the mattress, his hands coming out to the sides as a support to keep him upright. You settled yourself on your knees before him, reaching up to wipe a spot of red drool from his screen where it had fallen from his slack mouth.

“Stunning,” you said softly, running your hands up and down the warm skin of his thighs around the straps of the garters. His screen tints with the red of his blush, another color well complemented by the stark red of the lingerie he wore. His cock strains against the fabric of the panties, a dark spot at the tip where he’s been leaking since you started to undress him, and the sight makes your mouth water. You start at his knee, placing light kisses and gentle nips to the soft skin there before slowly moving upward, lips trailing the whole way.

When you reach the garter you hold it aside with a finger so you can slip your tongue underneath it, dragging the muscle across Vox’s heated flesh. “You’re so fucking sexy,” you tell him, and in your peripheral vision you can see the muscles of his abdomen clench, his cock jerking against the thin barrier of the panties. “I knew you would look so good in something like this- in anything really but fuck. I can’t decide if I want you to keep it on while you fuck me or if I want to tear it off with my fucking teeth.” You bare your sharp canines with a grin before pressing a kiss high on his upper thigh, close enough to the apex that you can feel the heat radiating off of him against your cheek. “You like that, right? Or at least, you like to be the one taking it off me. How does it feel to be on the other side of that?”

He groans low and deep in his throat, reaching a hand out to brush across your hair. “Fucking touch me already,” he demands, but his voice is thin and rife with a plea. ‘Come on, I got all dressed up for you- don’t I deserve a reward or something?”

“You deserve,” you tell him, finally coming closer to his cock and blowing a hot breath over the strain of fabric, “to be worshipped. Every fucking inch of you.” You ghost air along the length of him, finally leaning in far enough to place an open mouthed kiss along the shaft and suck lightly. You can feel the satin go damp under your lips as you work your way up, finally reaching the patch of fabric that was wet from his doing and savoring the salty taste of it under your tongue.

Vox groans above you, his voice rough with want and his cock spurting precum against the panties. It peters off into a whine when you bring your hands up to gently cup his balls, rolling and tugging them the way that you’ve learned he likes. “Fuck, you’re gonna fucking kill me,” he mutters. “I didn’t think you would like it this much, shit.”

You hum around what remains in your mouth, pressing a firm kiss to his covered cock as you pull back. “You underestimate how much I adore you,” you say, “and how good you look right now.” You slip a finger under the waist of the panties and pull them down slightly so you can take him fully into your mouth, the taste of him all musk and salt as you run your tongue along the underside. His fingers twist into your hair, firm and controlling, and his breath leaves him in a rough exhale when you suck hard. You bob your head, all suction and warm, wet heat around him, and the flex of his muscles under you is unbelievably sexy- you keep one hand running sensually up and down his calf, his thigh, wherever you can reach from your position between his legs.

The words that escape him are a litany of gibberish, phrases of “baby, fuck, please” that make your head buzz and your abdomen clench while you listen to him and drive him closer and closer to mindless pleasure. When you look up, his eyes are trained on you- his gaze is pleading molten heat, and he reaches another hand down to settle in your hair. “Please, sugar, fuck, please,” he’s begging, and knowing what he wants you let your throat relax so he can nudge you down further on his length. The head of his cock brushes the sensitive back of your throat and pushes further, muscles involuntarily convulsing at the intrusion.

You breathe through your nose as well as you can, unwilling to even blink at the picture before you. Vox’s eyes are closed now, his screen flashing static on and off with every flutter of your throat around him. He doesn’t let you do this often even though you both fucking love it, too afraid of hurting you to let you indulge in literally choking on his cock more than a couple times in the months since you had started seeing each other and become official. You think in this case you might like it even more than he does- something about being so completely full of him, his words a rush of pleas and curses and your name, makes your body tremble with want for him. You would do anything for him, just as he was doing for you- the very least you could do in return for the lingerie was making him spill down your throat before moving on to other events.

You redouble your efforts, once again gently handling his balls as you try to swallow around his cock. He swears, his breath heavy and labored as he pants your name and pulls you back ever so slightly. Your airway no longer blocked, you hum and moan, so determined to please him it aches in your chest. “God, baby, I fucking can’t- can’t hold on, you’re so good,” he praises, and his grip in your hair is released in favor of petting lovingly over your head, cupping your cheek. His hips jump beneath you, trying to buck forward as much as he can, pushing towards the back of your throat again.

You allow the motion, knowing how close he is- wound tight like a string, his whole body- decorated in lace as it is for you- is tensed and shaking, sweat pooling in the hollow of his abdomen, coating his skin. You take him as far as you can again, and he nearly sobs as he spends himself, thick and hot in your mouth.

He collapses back onto the bed, one hand coming off your head to reach blindly towards you. You take it, intertwine your fingers as you swallow and pull back, licking him clean before resting your head on his thigh. “I fucking love you,” he mutters, and this sends another shock of pleasure through you. Not just a physical sensation, it lights up your brain in the best way, and you press a kiss to the bared skin before you. “Seriously, you have no idea-”

“I do,” you tell him, and keep your hand in his while you try to stand from your position on the floor. You back up as much as you can while still holding his hand to get a look at the picture he makes- wiped of any stress, still lovely in his lingerie, his not-entirely-spent cock hanging out of the panties and resting against his abdomen, ready for whatever comes next. He was never done after just round- you sometimes went three, four times in a night before you were both fully satisfied, and you hoped this was one of those occasions.

You would never have enough of him. You would spend the rest of your afterlife in awe of this man and the lengths he went to make you happy in any capacity.

You release his hand long enough to strip yourself, clothes flying in all directions as you undress as quickly as you can to join him on the bed. You settle next to him and prop up on one elbow, looking down at him with a smile until he senses your gaze and opens his eyes, a confident, satisfied smile on his screen. “Hi, gorgeous,” he tells you, and you bend down to kiss him while letting your fingers roam over the landscape of his lace covered body. He returns the favor, grazing the tips of his claws over your bare skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Does this mean it’s my turn?”

“Absolutely not,” you say, nuzzling into his throat, your nose tickled by the lace there. “I’m not done ravishing you yet.”

“I’m a very good multi-tasker,” he whispers, dipping his fingers between your thighs to find you slick and open when he presses into you. “Come on, sweetheart, I know you can think of at least one position that benefits us both.”

And damn him, you can- several, if you’re honest, but only a few of them give you what you want, which is being able to see him, letting him see himself. You think you’ll settle for your own view in the meantime, let him crawl between your legs and hook your knees over his strong arms and have his way with you. His cock was already hard again, leaking onto his abdomen under your attentive fingers trailing over his skin, and when you grip him lightly he grins, sated and cocky while he crooks his own fingers inside you the way that you like.

His chest rumbles with a satisfied groan at the sound of your breathy whine, pulling away from him to provide room for him to roll to his knees and hover over you. Perpendicular on the bed, you let your head fall back over the edge of the mattress, catching sight of the mirror that hangs off the closet door across the room as Vox positions himself and sinks into the soaked, silken heat of you. It’s perfect- if he looks up from where he’s currently watching himself slide slowly in and out of the tight grip of your body he’ll see what you see, the breathtaking view of him covered in fragile crimson that clings to the lines of his frame.

He sees it a moment after you do, redirecting his gaze from where he’s spearing you on his cock to your extended throat, finally to the mirror directly across from him. His smile goes dangerous, catching your eye in the reflection. “Clever,” he says appreciatively, watching himself bring a hand down to hold your hip as he jerks his own forward, a thrust that steals your breath and makes your body jolt. “Now we both get to watch, hm?”

He sets a steady rhythm, an even rocking of your bodies that sets a fire licking at your blood as he loses himself in it; every now and then his eyes drift closed or he glances away from the mirror, focusing instead on the sway of your tits as he fucks you or the grasp of your fingers on his where he has a hand planted for support. He’s drawn back time and time again though, finding his reflection and staring as if transfixed by what he sees, by what you’ve seen the whole time- beauty, plain and simple, in whatever he wore, all that he did.

“Looks good,” you manage over the slick noises of your sex, eyes trained on the strap of his bra that had slipped from his shoulders and now hung loosely by his bicep. You reach up and fix it for him, then wrap your fingers around the lace bit at his throat to pull him down to meet your lips. “Perfect,” you whisper into his mouth, and the desperate noise that he makes in response makes you clench hard around him, the walls of your cunt flooding with evidence of your arousal and fluttering over his cock. “Come on, say it.”

He lifts his head slightly, and you watch him look over his own form, screen to shoulders to where the sight fades to darkness where you’re connected. “Fuck, looks fucking good,” he agrees, “feels good.” He slows down, drags out his withdrawal from your core until just the head is left inside of you. He repositions the hand on your hip, slips it underneath you to grab your ass and pull you even harder into his thrusts when he resumes, watching the way his muscles flex and contract between the swatches of red. He was so fucking strong, and the lingerie only highlighted that rather than taking away from it in any way. You love the way he’s looking at himself, finally seeming to understand why you wanted this if the way he pants is any indication when his pace quickens, fingers digging into your supple flesh.

When you reach your free hand down to rub at your clit to race him to the finish line he swats your fingers out of the way, bringing his attention back to you. “Fuck, baby, let me do it,” he begs, pressing the pad of his thumb to your sensitive bundle of nerves, untouched so far but electrifying when he makes contact. “Wanna make you come, you’re so fucking good to me-”

Ever the perfectionist, once he’s put his mind to something- he knows your body as well as his own, knows the exact pressure and speed that has you pushed over the edge with a hoarse cry of his name. Light explodes behind your eyelids, pleasure ripping through your limbs like a flash of electricity that starts and ends where you’re connected; Vox is still chasing his own end, his thrusts faltering as he keep his fingers working you through it, his voice a distorted stream of “yes, fuck, please” interspersed with your name and terms of endearment.

Static flashes across his screen as he tips over the precipice, his voice caught low in his throat as he grunts and pushes hard against you, claws digging dangerously into the skin of your ass and pulsing hard in the grip of your cunt. When he pulls out he slips his fingers in where his cock had been, open and messy, coating his fingers in your combined releases before bringing them up to wind his tongue around them, sending another devastating beat of pure want through you despite the fact that you’ve just finished.

He finally slides his knees back and collapses on top of you, the warmth of his screen comforting where he’s pressed against your clavicle, and you let your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders and trace light trails along his back. The lace of his ensemble was a little itchy where it touched you, and your appreciation of the night increases tenfold as you realize he had put up with it for you, to give you this. You land a kiss on his casing and feel him smile against your skin, pressing one of his own to your sternum.

“You really know how to make a man feel like the most important guy in all of Hell,” he murmurs, the words ticklish and soft. “Even looking like this.”

You tip his head up to meet his gaze. “I’ll tell you my secret- it’s because you are. To me, anyway,” you add with an embarrassed flush. “Naked or decked out like this, your suits, your pajamas; you’ll always be the center of my attention for the simple fact of who you are and what you mean to me. I love you.”

“I love you too, but come on,” he says with a chuckle, gathering you to his chest and flopping back into the silk sheets. “You’re gonna make me blush.”

You grin, your limbs relaxed and pleasantly tingly as you rest your head on his chest. “Can’t help it- you just look so good in red,” you tease, plucking at the strap of his bra, and your laugh is lost into his mouth when he pulls you in for a final searing kiss.

fun fact Vox's blush was purple until the very end of this fic and then I went back and changed it so I could use that last line LOL

another huge thank you to my beloved Frau for finding this GORGEOUS lingerie as inspo for what Vox is wearing, I owe you my life

so uhhh yeah 6.5k words of me thinking Vox would be extra hot in this. enjoy lol

#hazbin hotel #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #ily frau <3 #x reader #vox fanfiction #vox smut #vox x reader #vox x you #hazbin hotel x reader

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miraclechatbug · 21 hours ago

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I just read an analysis of the episode by @mamayura, and honestly, it's incredibly insightful and accurate. It also makes everything a thousand times more heartbreaking because Adrien knows exactly what he wants, and it’s something very simple. He just wants to be with Nathalie and Marinette.

However, throughout the entire episode— and even before that, Nathalie has kept Adrien at arm’s length. She’s afraid to care for him the way she truly wants to, a struggle she’s faced constantly, even when he was a child, as shown in the flashbacks. She has always loved him and longed to show him more affection.

However, she’s terrified of replacing Emilie, it probably even feels like a betrayal even though it was Emilie's last wish. It's all too much to put on Nathalie, and of course, she's indecisive about it. That’s why she holds back from showing Adrien the love she so clearly feels for him, even though it’s obvious to everyone how much she adores him. But as clear as it is to others, it might not be to Adrien. He knows she cares for him, but does she care enough to step up and be a mother to him? Nathalie has rarely taken that kind of initiative, so he can’t bring himself to ask such a thing of her.

Adrien is wise beyond his years. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again— he is the most emotionally intelligent and self-aware person in the show, (so is Luka, though in a different way). Because Adrien understands emotions so well, even though he’s never had any real control over his own life, he does know what he wants. He wants to stay with the people he considers family— Nathalie, Marinette, The Gorilla. But he won’t say it aloud, not even when given the chance, because he needs undeniable proof that he is wanted first place.

Just like he never truly forced his father. Yes, he constantly sought Gabriel’s time and attention, and every time he was pushed away, you could see how much it devasted him. And he learned from that. Just like he learned from Ladybug, after she pushed him away time and time again. You cannot force people to love you if they don’t want you. It has to be their choice.

And in that moment, every adult in that room, except Marinette, had to make their decision before Adrien could even be allowed to speak. That is utterly tragic. It’s horrifying. I can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like to watch strangers argue over who should take custody of me while the one person I truly wanted wasn’t even in the room, wasn't even making an effort for him. And the worst part of it all... is that he didn’t fight it. Not even a little protest. He had already resigned himself to whatever was happening.

Adrien didn’t say anything because he knew he couldn’t. Because, deep down, he truly believed that what he had to say wouldn’t matter. It never had before.

Until Marinette. She’s the one who always thinks about him, who turns toward him instead of away. Especially in the Werepapas episode— she stops, looks back, and asks him what he wants. No one else ever does that (except Plagg). She wants to see him happy, and she makes him happy. I would love to see more of that.

I think Adrien has always felt voiceless when it comes to his own desires. He’s spent his whole life pushing aside what he wants, always making space for others, always tiptoeing around the emotions of the adults around him. When, in reality, those burdens were never his, and will never be his to carry. They should have shielded him from their anger, worries, and indecision, figured things out first, and only come to him when they had something real to offer. Instead, they fought over him like he was a prize to be claimed.

I would love to see him finally wishing for things— choosing for himself, being selfish for once. He deserves that.

Watching Werepapas has made me realize how little control Adrien thinks he has over his life. His grandparents are literally fighting over their guardian rights over him, and he is under the table, concerned about Plagg, and not paying attention in the slightest. Marinette, Nathalie, and The Gorilla were all more upset and worried than he was. Or at least, they showed more emotion.

And honestly, that's so concerning. How little control and choice must someone have over their life to react this way? In the end, when they finally ask him what he wants... he says he doesn't know himself. He's happy to let Marinette make the decision for him, and it's obvious that he wants Marinette wants for him, it's obvious to everyone except him.

He never voices out loud what he wants, such as how obviously he wants Nathalie to hug him back and show him affection at the beginning of his episode. And his shirt was so wrinkled! I think he's struggling more than ever, but he's so good at acting that he's fine– he's so well put together. I fear he doesn't even know how much he's struggling himself. He constantly says he doesn't know how he's feeling himself, which means he is very disconnected with his emotions. People who are very repressed say such things, people who never had chances to explore their feelings themselves, never got the freedom or choice to express themselves. Adrien doesn’t voice his wants, not because they don’t exist, but because he’s never been given the space to acknowledge them. The moment he does, he risks confronting just how deeply he craves something he believes he can’t have. So, he keeps moving, keeps smiling, keeps convincing everyone— himself included, that he’s fine.

It's a learned habit, a defense mechanism. People who have always been told what to feel, or who have been given no room to feel at all, probably end up like this– adrift and unsure of where their own emotions begin or end. It’s repression at its most insidious.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous s6 spoilers #werepapas spoilers #adrien agreste #ml ladybug #miraculous #adrien #ml werepapas

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alba1221141 · 2 days ago

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Mary Janes

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

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Jinx

The whole damn week feels like I'm walking through some dreamscape, like I’m caught between the fragments of a memory I can’t quite reach, but it’s all so damn sweet. Y/N’s hand, her fingers threading through mine, is the only thing grounding me.

It’s like we’re both floating, but somehow still tethered to each other by something—something warm, something soft, something real.

Everyone knows.

Everyone fucking knows.

And it’s... It’s different now.

It’s freeing. Like there’s no more hiding, no more second-guessing every glance or touch. Like I can breathe, really breathe, without the weight of secrets pressing down on me.

I think it’s her laugh that gets to me the most. It's like everything good in the world wrapped up in the sound of it.

It’s a little quiet, like she’s still figuring out how to let herself be loud, but it’s still hers, and I can’t get enough of it.

And I—shit, I think I'm getting soft.

But when her eyes meet mine, I forget how to speak. There’s this look—this look she gives me, like she’s seeing me, all the way down to the fucked-up parts I keep buried. And she’s still here. She’s still mine.

My girl.

We’re in the library, of course, where it’s too quiet and too crowded all at once, but it doesn’t matter.

I’m leaning against a table, watching her as she flips through some bullshit textbook, and all I can think about is the way her lips curve when she reads, the way she chews on her pen like she’s too caught up in her thoughts to notice.

I lean in, my voice barely a whisper, but she hears it, always. “You look fucking cute when you concentrate,” I murmur, my fingers grazing her wrist. She jumps, startled, but then she smiles.

That smile. God, it lights me up from the inside out, and I can’t help but lean in to kiss her, right there in the middle of this boring-ass library.

When we break apart, she’s blushing, and I can’t help but chuckle at how easy it is to fluster her.

"Shut up," she mumbles, but her voice is all soft and sweet, and she’s looking down at her hands, still holding her damn textbook like it’s the most important thing in the room.

“No, really,” I press, “You’re all fucking cute and smart and perfect, and I can’t get enough of you.”

She ducks her head, but I can see her trying to fight the smile. And that—that—is all I need.

She’s here. We’re here. And it’s all soft kisses and stolen glances in between the chaos of school, like we’re living in a world where nothing else matters but the way our fingers fit together.

Y/N’s laughter bubbles up again, and I feel it in my chest, spreading like a fire I never want to put out. “I love you,” she says, like she’s telling me the weather, like it’s the simplest truth in the world.

And I—fuck, I think I’m a goner.

I’m grinning like an idiot, my heart still thudding in my chest from that last kiss, when a voice breaks through the bubble of my little world.

"Ugh. Are you two gonna be like this the whole fucking semester?"

I pull away from Y/N reluctantly, groaning as I look over to see Ekko standing there, arms crossed, smirking like he’s just caught us doing something criminal.

He leans against the bookshelf, raising an eyebrow at us both, clearly unimpressed.

“Oh, come on, Ekko,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re still on that bitter, lonely shit.”

He gives me that look, the one that says he’s definitely judging us. "What? I'm just saying," he smirks, "You two are all over each other like some cheesy romance novel. Kinda hard to focus on my own shit with all the heart-eye emojis floating around."

Y/N, still blushing and a little awkward, shoots him a playful glare. "We’re allowed to be happy, Ekko," she says, her voice still carrying that soft, sweet undertone that somehow makes me want to protect her from everything, even Ekko’s mockery.

Ekko raises both hands in mock surrender. "I didn’t say you couldn’t be happy. I’m just saying, some of us enjoy a little less PDA and a little more actual work. You know, the kind of work that doesn’t involve adoring gazes."

“Bite me,” I say with a snort, crossing my arms and leaning back in my seat. "You wish you had someone to adore you like that, huh?"

Ekko chuckles, the sound low and easy, but it’s clear he’s not backing down. “Nah. I’m good. Can’t imagine the level of distraction that’d come with having someone cling to you like that. You two are practically glued at the fucking hip.”

Y/N shoots him a smile, her eyes dancing with that mischievous sparkle that makes me weak in the knees. "Jealous much?"

"Hardly." Ekko shrugs, but there's something almost soft about the way he looks at us, like he’s kinda... warming up to the idea that maybe, just maybe, we’re not total idiots for being like this.

"You two are disgustingly cute," he mutters with a half-grin before shaking his head. "Alright, alright, enjoy your little bubble. Just remember, not everyone’s here for your lovey-dovey bullshit."

Y/N and I share a glance, and I can see her trying not to laugh. I can feel her hand brush mine under the table, and I swear my heart skips a beat.

“I’ll make sure we keep it to a minimum for you,” I tease, winking at her.

“Yeah, sure,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Next time, we’ll tone down the heart-eye looks just for you, Ekko."

Ekko just rolls his eyes dramatically, but I can see the small, approving smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Whatever. You two keep me entertained. Now, back to pretending to do actual schoolwork."

With a final flick of his fingers, he turns and heads off down the aisle, leaving Y/N and me alone again, the tension between us still sweet and electric, like a live wire.

“I can’t believe he’s so rude,” she mutters, but there’s laughter in her voice.

I grin at her, watching her blush under my gaze again. "Don’t worry. He secretly loves it. And you know what? So do I."

She rolls her eyes, but I can see the little smile creeping back up. We’re back in our bubble again, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

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Y/N

The changing room hums with a familiar rhythm, the sound of shoes tapping on the floor, the rustle of fabric, and the soft murmur of voices. It smells faintly of hairspray and sweat, a blend that’s almost comforting in its predictability. Yet, beneath the surface of my routine, I feel something stirring—something that isn’t quite as settled as I’d like it to be.

Cait’s voice slices through the air, a little sharper than usual, carrying a weight I hadn’t anticipated. “So, uh, you and... Jinx. You two really are serious, huh?”

I pause, fingers lingering on the edge of my cheer uniform as I look up. The room seems to still, just for a breath, as if waiting for me to answer. Her words are heavy, but there’s something underneath them—a hesitance, a hesitation I can’t quite place.

And in that moment, I feel the tug of something—protectiveness, maybe? Or worry?

I nod slowly, my gaze dropping to the hem of my skirt, where the fabric feels too tight for comfort. “Yeah. We’re... figuring things out,” I say, my voice steady despite the uncertainty swirling inside me.

Mel, as always, is the voice of calm, her presence a quiet anchor in the storm. “Love is... unpredictable, isn’t it? It’s never quite what we expect, but maybe that’s the beauty of it,” she muses, her words flowing like a soft melody.

But Cait doesn’t seem convinced.

She shifts, a flicker of discomfort passing across her face. “I get it,” she says, but the weight of her voice makes it sound more like a question than a statement. “It’s just... Jinx? She’s... well, she’s different. I don’t know, Y/N. You’ve never really been the type to—”

I know where she’s going with this, and I brace myself. Cait’s protective, and I understand that. But sometimes it feels like she doesn’t see Jinx for who she really is. She sees the chaos, the unpredictability, but not the girl beneath it all—the girl I love.

“I can handle it,” I say, quieter this time, but firm. “I’m not... fragile, Cait.”

Mel’s soft laugh breaks the tension, like a delicate ripple across still water. “Perhaps we all have more strength than we give ourselves credit for.”

Cait sighs, her gaze drifting away as if weighing her thoughts. The moment lingers between us, heavy with unspoken words, until Cait speaks again, her voice softer now, almost tentative. “Okay, okay, I’m not trying to be a buzzkill... but, um, if you really want to show me that you’re serious about this... maybe we could go on a double date? With Vi.” Her eyes flick to mine, guarded but sincere. “If you’d like. No pressure.”

The offer hangs in the air, delicate and uncertain, like a fragile thread between us. I blink, caught off guard by the invitation. Cait... Cait wants to meet me halfway? Wants to understand, maybe? It feels strange, but in the best way possible.

I chew on my lip, my thoughts swirling like the shifting colors of the sky at dusk. “A double date?” I repeat, the words tasting strange on my tongue, as if I’m not quite sure what to make of them.

She shrugs, trying to mask her uncertainty with a nonchalant expression, but I see the way her fingers tug at her hair—a subtle sign of the nerves she’s trying to hide. “Yeah, well, if you want. It’s no big deal.”

Mel smiles softly, a gentle curve of her lips that speaks more than words ever could. “I think it’s a lovely idea, Y/N. A bit of time away from school, a chance to enjoy the simple things.”

“I’ll think about it,” I say, my voice softer than I intend, the words coming out with a careful hesitation. “Thanks, Cait. I’ll let you know.”

Cait doesn’t say anything, but I catch the flicker of something in her eyes—a softening, like she’s been waiting for me to say just that. She nods, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips, before turning back to adjust her uniform in front of the mirror.

Mel, always the voice of grace, adds in a tone that makes everything seem just a little bit brighter, “I think it’ll be lovely, Y/N. A new beginning, perhaps.”

And for a moment, just a fleeting moment, I believe her. I believe that maybe this is a step toward something more—something better. Something simple, something good.

As I take a quiet breath, the room falls into a comfortable rhythm again, the conversation flowing like a gentle stream. But something feels different now, lighter, as though the world is just a little bit easier to navigate.

Maybe it’s because for the first time in a while, I feel like everything might just be okay.

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Jinx

This place is way too fucking fancy.

Like, what the hell are we doing here? Some overpriced, candle-lit, soft jazz-playing, rich-people bullshit kinda place.

Everything smells like truffle oil and pretentiousness.

The waiter keeps calling me ma’am, and I want to sock him in the jaw just for that. But whatever. This is what we’re doing, apparently.

I tap my fingers on the edge of the table, pretending to study the fancy menu like I’m some sophisticated, high-society queen—except I’m not.

I’m just here because Y/N insisted, and Vi dragged me along. I was honestly just hoping for a cheeseburger, but no, I get this mess.

Truffle oil? What even is that? Sounds like something that should be illegal.

I glance over at Y/N, her face scrunched up like she’s pondering the meaning of life as she stares at the drink menu. Cute. I could literally eat her up right now—metaphorically, of course.

“Y/N,” I tease, voice low enough so only she hears, “If you order some fancy-ass drink with the word infusion in it, I’m gonna lose it. Just get a damn soda, toots”

She glances at me, her lips twitching into a smile like she can’t decide whether to roll her eyes or giggle.

God, I love that. It’s like she’s trying to be all refined, but she’s secretly a little freak with me.

Caitlyn’s over there with Vi, already in some boring conversation about the exquisite bouquet of whatever wine she’s pretending to care about.

Ugh.

Still can't stand Cait. I mean, yeah she is like one of my girls best friends so I do have to act civil, but god is it fucking painful.

Y/N lets out this little laugh when I fake-gag at Caitlyn and Vi’s conversation. I shoot her a wink, like yeah, you get it.

“Just promise me you won’t drink anything that tastes like nail polish remover,” I say, leaning over to whisper in her ear. “The waiter looks like he knows how to make that happen.”

She rolls her eyes at me, but I can see the slight amusement behind it. She knows what I’m about, even when I’m being all extra.

“Promise,” she says, her voice soft, and I’m pretty sure I could live in that sound forever.

Vi raises a brow, cutting into our bubble. “I think we’re all set,” she says, her tone a little more serious than usual. "Caitlyn, are we doing dessert?"

"Of course," Caitlyn responds, as if dessert is some fancy word for noble pursuit. "The tasting menu has a truffle mousse that pairs wonderfully with a Chardonnay."

I can't stop myself from snorting. "A mousse? What, they’re putting truffle oil in everything now? We can’t escape it." I glance at Caitlyn, giving her a playful side-eye. "Not even dessert’s safe, huh?"

She shoots me a look that would kill a lesser person, but I’m too quick for her. She doesn’t know how to handle me. Nobody does.

Vi chuckles, probably just to keep the peace. “I think it’s a good idea,” she says, nudging Caitlyn’s foot under the table. “We’ll be fine.”

Whatever.

Fine. If that’s how they wanna play it, I’ll just make sure Y/N’s enjoying herself. We don’t need fancy food or fake wine to have fun.

Cause as sappy as it sounds, we have eachother and that's all I need.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

authors note: this isn't the last chapter yet ;)

please like and reblog!

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monochrome-cropcrown · 2 days ago

Text

Your Warmth

Jack The Ripper X Female!Reader +18

─ ⊹ ✦ ⊱꒰ ♡ ꒱⊰ ✦ ⊹ ───── ⊹ ✦ ⊱꒰ ♡ ꒱⊰ ✦ ⊹ ─

Contents: Soft Dom Jack, comfort, smut, comfort sex, reader has a pussy, cunnilingus, missionary, Mono's late Valentine's contribution for everyone, basically Mono putting her English diploma to good use, possible Jack ooc

MINORS DO NOT READ

─ ⊹ ✦ ⊱꒰ ♡ ꒱⊰ ✦ ⊹ ───── ⊹ ✦ ⊱꒰ ♡ ꒱⊰ ✦ ⊹ ─

Tears, tears, tears, and more tears. That’s all that came out of you. The nightmares just keep on coming, even as you’re awake. You never dare to tell him about it, not wanting to put any more load on his shoulders. Well, pretty sure he already knew anyway. You tried not to wail, or make any sound for that matter because Jack is coming home very soon. But each passing minute feels torturous. You want to make a sound. Yet you can’t. All you can do now is to wait for your husband to come home, look at your colours and feel shame or disappointment or something of you. You wait with bated breath, curling up on the bed of your shared bedroom.

“Shh… there, there, my love.” Warm arms envelope you like a cocoon. You didn’t hear him coming into the house. As expected from an experienced killer. You open your eyes to see Jack pulling you from bed into an embrace. A tender, warm embrace. One that makes you feel safe, feel free from the dangers of your mind. You can feel his moustache against your hair as he kisses your head.

You always like his hugs, his kisses. His love. They are the only things that kept you going. You can’t hold in it anymore, so you just weep into his chest. You don’t have the power to see other’s emotions like him, thus you don’t know how he is feeling about you right now. But one thing you see in his eyes when you look up is love.

Only love.

Jack holds you closer to his chest, allowing you to let all your emotions go. He doesn’t say anything. He just lets you cry as long as you want. You can feel his body rise and fall with each deep breath he takes, the sound of his heartbeat thumping against your ears, slowly lulling you into a calmer state. After what felt like a long time, you finally manage to calm down. You can feel his fingers gently thread through your hair, smoothing the tangles and knots from your hair.

“They came back… The nightmares..” You speak between sniffles. Despite already knowing this obvious fact, he just nods. “I see.”

Jack continues to hold you with his fingers still combing through your hair. He doesn’t say anything. Just letting you have your moment of vulnerability. He remembers the days when he was alone with no one to cling to after leaving London. He killed his parents and left Anne, so he only curled up into a ball and cried during the nights. But this isn’t the time to reminisce about past memories.

This is about you.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your ragged breathing, and the occasional rustle of clothings. Jack continues to run his fingers through your hair, occasionally dropping chaste kisses on the top of your head. “Thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings —That then I scorn to change my state with kings.” You raise your head slightly. “Shakespeare?” He smiles and nods at your question.

“I love you neither because of your body nor mind. But your heart. The most beautiful thing in the world, the very thing you gave me earnestly despite my own shortcomings. And I won’t trade it for anything in life or death. You loved me despite my sins. You loved me for all of me, so allow me to return the affection tenfold.” he whispers, planting a soft kiss on your tender lips.

More tears flow down your face as you kiss him back. Happy tears, sad tears, the emotions are flowing around like a vortex. It’s a beautiful sight for Jack, like a rainbow mixing together with love as its primary colour. After a moment of kissing, you two pull away. You finally have the courage to look up at him. “I love you, Jack.” He strokes your cheeks and rests his forehead on yours. “And I as well, my love. Let me take care of you now, alright?”

─ ⊹ ✦ ⊱꒰ ♡ ꒱⊰ ✦ ⊹ ───── ⊹ ✦ ⊱꒰ ♡ ꒱⊰ ✦ ⊹ ─

“J-Jack! Too much!” you cry out as he made you cum for the nth time just from eating your pussy. He just chuckles and kisses your core again. “My, it hasn’t been 30 minutes, my darling.”

You’re naked on the bed, your clothes are long discarded by Jack. Earlier, he had showered your body with kisses and bites. And now, he is between your legs, eating you out.

His idea of “taking care of you” is apparently to let off some steam out of you. And as much as you don’t want to admit it, it’s working well so far. With the sensation of his wet tongue on your folds, your mind couldn’t think of the nightmares anymore. Your sadness is gone, and he gets to taste your delicious fluids. A win-win situation.

Though he seems to do his part too well. His tongue is working with precision and purpose, fucking your hole and tasting your cum. It’s warm, soft, not to mention his moustache is tickling your skin, making you more sensitive. This is not the first time he has done it, but it never fails to make you lose your mind.

“Are you going to cum again, (Name)?” He asks as he laps up your pussy like a starved man. He can feel it throbbing again, signalling another orgasm. You nod in the tears of pleasure, whimpering and moaning as you beg. “Y-yes.. p-please, Jack.. Can I cum again..?”

Jack smiles and kisses your core. “You don’t have to ask permission, love. But yes, cum for me again.” With that, you cry out loud as you reach your hundredth-or-so orgasm. His wet tongue is still in you, and it’s making you way too sensitive and quivering. Your breath is short, your whole body is still shaking even after some minutes have passed. Your fluids are basically covering Jack’s face. He licks some on his lips, smiling down at you. “Delicious, as always.”

He watched as you quickly lifted your arms up. With teary eyes from the pleasure, you reached out, begging him for comfort. He gave in and leaned forward, guiding your hands to his shoulders. He had teased you enough. From there, you naturally felt your way upwards and began running your fingers through his silver hair like you always do every other time he took you. The color of fear finally abated from your body now that you had him in your grasp. He nuzzled against you as he sighed, his moustache tickling you.

Your pussy is still throbbing from your orgams, but you still want more. You still need more. Jack’s tongue alone isn’t enough. You gently tugged on his shirt, wanting it off. He understood your silent plea and nodded. Undoing the buttons, his shirt came off first, revealing his toned body. As someone with high agility and endurance on the battlefield, it’s a must that he keeps his body in check. Next is his belt, then the pants, and finally the undergarments. His cock stood proudly upright, displaying his arousal from eating you out earlier. It’s not the biggest thing in the world, but it’s still big enough that you would be seeing stars. You blushed at that marvellous sight and shyly looked away. You felt like you didn't deserve Jack, neither his heart or body.

He just chuckled at your shyness, nuzzling into you again as a silent assurance. He settled between your legs and aligned himself to your entrance. His cock is now rubbing against your folds. Only the tip, and it’s already making you shiver and whimper. You two are ready to make love tonight.

“Do you love me?”

You asked as you looked up at him with those pleading puppy eyes of yours. Jack gave you a gentle smile and kissed your forehead. He wanted to give you a million words on how much he loves you, how much he is obsessed with you. However words alone won’t give you justice. “I do.” he said shortly as he began to fuck you gently.

You whimpered and whined as you felt his cock sliding into your pussy. After letting you adjust, he picked up a steady rhythm to start off. He kissed you passionately, bruising your lips. You responded in kind by pushing your tongue out, wanting to taste him. Jack found the heat from your body more than comfortable as he fucked you.

“Jack…” you called out to him, and he swore it was the most beautiful noise he ever heard. “Yes, (Name)?” He asks, still thrusting his cock in a gentle manner. You whimpered needily, moving your hips to meet his movements. “C-Can you go harder..? Please?”. If it were up to Jack, he wants to tease you and make you work for your prize. But tonight isn’t the time. He knew you needed him, in all kinds of ways. “Why of course, my darling.”

He smiled in the bend of your neck and pounds into you harder and faster. He knew his cock hit that special spot when you let out a cry of pleasure, thus he pounded that spot over and over again. Washing you with ecstasy. Each thrust caused your breasts to sway and jiggle, which altogether with your moans and the way your pussy welcomed him made a beautiful sight to Jack. “Good girl, good girl... That's it, you feel so good to me.” He praised in between his groans, causing to whimper in return.

You feel happy, loved, freed from those fears. Aside from his love, the only things in your mind were his big cock fucking you all night and how his cum will fill your holes up.

If it were possible, Jack wanted to drown in your warmth, as you did to his. Moving his hand between your legs, his finger gently circled your clit. He thought you matched him perfectly because of the way you moaned out for him when he called to you, your hips meeting each of his thrusts and the colours of your soul bursting with lust and love.

The bed below you creaks softly along the sound of mattresses shuffling. His groans, your whimpers, suckling on skin, kisses, all noises mingled together as his skin met yours. The scent, sight and sounds of sex is evident under the moonlight from your bedroom window, and it is addictive to both of you that you wanted it to last forever.

After what it seemed to be an eternity of ecstasy, Jack watched with pleasure as you trembled and spasmed, finally cumming. Your walls closed in around him and your fluids coated his crotch and drove him to go faster. You whimpered and cried at this intensity, but did not complain. “Almost there, love." He gave you another kiss as he continued his thrusts.

“S-So good.. F-Feels so good, Jack!” “That’s it, my darling. Take it nice and well.”

Your bodies were covered in sweat and your breaths were ragged, but that did not stop either of you.

Jack grabbed your hands, pinning them down to your sides. As he intertwined your fingers with his, he gave several more forceful thrusts and a loud groan, the joy in him finally reaching its peak and cumming inside of you.

Your pussy of course, welcomed his seed and throbbed around his flesh. This caused you two to shiver in delight. It took you a few minutes of relishing into the orgasm before you reclaim your breaths.

Panting, Jack looked down and stroked your cheeks affectionately, and you did the same to him. He stares lovingly into your eyes, for them and the colour love inside of you were absolutely mesmerising at the moment. “Good girl.. My sweet, beautiful girl..” he whispered against your lips, kissing them. You whimpered in joy in the kiss.

#My first smut?? yipee #record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnorak #shuumatsu no walkure #ror jack the ripper #snv jack the ripper #jack the ripper record of ragnarok #jack the ripper #jack the ripper no jikenbo #ror #snv #record of Ragnarok smut #jack the ripper x y/n #jack the ripper x reader #mono writes

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