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vibelladonna · 26 days ago

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❛ 𝒷𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀 ❜ 𝜗𝜚 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝓍 𝑔𝓃!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

· ─────── ⋆⋅ 🝣 ⋅⋆ ─────── ·

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Solivan Brugmansia, or just Sol, a super mysterious artist who kinda blends the lines between being the creator and the creation himself. His piercing eyes and his quirky style pull you into his world of raw creativity and quiet intensity.

When you're invited to his studio to complete a college art project, you’ll be sucked into his art, his silence, and that eerie feeling that he sees way more of you than you expected. The real challenge? Keep your focus on your brushwork.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions.

𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: Fem Body! Reader, Forced Proximity, Domestic Fluff (At the start), Artistic Passion, Obsessive Behavior, non-consensual, unwanted touching, grinding, dubious consent, predatory behavior, penetration, very rough sex, whiny submissive Sol at one point and dominant Sol at another point, same goes to you—reader as well, and somewhat long ass word count—I got carried away, took two days straight to write—I’m so so sorry.

I honestly wasn’t planning on writing Sol because, let’s face it, he already gets plenty of love from the fandom (and, not gonna lie, he scares me—a LOT). That said, I still love his character design and how he was created! But someone asked for more, so here we are. I’ll be putting together a master list soon and opening up requests since I wasn’t expecting so much love for my Crowe fanfic. Seriously, thank you! Anyway, hope you enjoy reading this one!

You stood outside the apartment door, the faint hum of the building’s creaky pipes filling the silence. A faint scent of paint and something sweet—floral, maybe—escaped through the crack at the base of the door. Your fist hovered briefly before you knocked, your knuckles rapping gently against the wood.

You'd come here to his apartment for a college project on Expressionism, drawn by his reputation as the quiet genius in your class. The space was a living embodiment of his mind—a sanctuary of creativity and controlled chaos. Canvases leaned against walls, his surfaces erupting with bold strokes and raw emotion. The air hummed faintly, tinged with the smell of oil paint, charcoal, and the faintest trace of something floral—perhaps the namesake of the mysterious Solivan Brugmansia—Sol for short.

There was a pause. The sound of footsteps approached, deliberate and unhurried, before the door clicked open.

Sol stood there, framed by his apartment’s warm, ambient light. His black hair, streaked with vibrant green, gleamed faintly, catching the dim overhead light. The half-up, half-down style gave his sharp features an ethereal quality, the long central streak of hair falling between his orange and crimson eyes while two smaller strands framed his face.

Today, he was dressed as part of the canvas he worked on. A black shirt, fitted but comfortable, paired with matching pants, both splattered with faint remnants of past creative frenzies. Over this, he wore a painting apron streaked with the vibrancy of forgotten colors—a kaleidoscope of blues, yellows, and pinks. It looked almost ceremonial, as though he were a priest of Expressionism itself.

“Hey,” Sol said, his voice soft but resonant, as if each word had been weighed and measured before leaving pierced lips. He stepped aside, gesturing you in.

You entered cautiously, suddenly hyperaware of how much space you were occupying. Sol’s apartment was an eclectic mix of chaos and artistry. The walls were lined with shelves stuffed with books, jars of brushes, and sketchpads in various stages of use. Canvases leaned haphazardly against one wall, his surfaces alive with strokes of vibrant, chaotic color.

A large easel stood in the corner by a wall, its frame splattered with years of paint, and next to it was a table strewn with tubes of oil paint, jars of water, and what looked like a half-finished sculpture.

The furniture was minimal but intentional. A worn, paint-streaked couch sat across from a low coffee table, which had been overtaken by sketchbooks and coffee mugs. The faint glow of string lights wound around the ceiling added warmth, softening the industrial feel of the concrete floors.

Sol closed the door behind you, the lock clicking faintly. “Shoes off, please,” He said, his gaze flicking briefly to your feet. He was wearing socks, his black shirt, and matching pants, giving them a striking silhouette beneath the paint-streaked apron he wore. “Do you always live like… this?” you asked, gesturing vaguely at the organized chaos.

Sol glanced around as if seeing the space through your eyes for the first time. “It’s functional,” He said simply, before pulling a stool toward the easel and sitting. “I know where everything is.” He reached for a brush, spinning it absently between his fingers. “Did you bring the sketches?” You nodded, pulling a folder from your bag. “Yeah. I mean, they’re rough. I wasn’t sure if they’d fit the theme.” You hesitated before handing them over.

Sol didn't say anything right away. Instead, he put the brush down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he flipped through your work. His gaze was intense, those fiery eyes scanning each page with a focus that made you feel bare.

His eyes were a masterpiece in themselves, an intense study of Central Heterochromia: an inner ring of burning orange encircled by an outer hue of crimson red. When he looked at you, it felt as though he were dissecting your very soul, layer by delicate layer.

“This one,” Sol said finally, tapping one of the sketches. It was an abstract piece—a swirl of jagged lines and harsh shading. “It’s raw. Honest. Use this as your foundation.”

“Really?” You leaned closer, your shoulder brushing his accidentally. Sol didn’t pull away. “I wasn’t sure if it was too… messy.”

“That’s the point,” Sol said, his voice quiet but firm. He set the folder aside and stood, moving toward the table where his paints were arranged. “Expressionism isn’t about clean lines. It’s about emotion. About what’s inside.” He picked up a palette, his long fingers deftly squeezing out colors in no particular order. “You brought what’s inside. I’ll help you pull it out.” You couldn’t help but watch as he moved, each action deliberate and fluid.

“So… how do we start?” You asked.

Sol turned to you, the faintest trace of a smile playing at his lips. "You start by not overthinking. Paint what you feel. I'll be here if you need guidance." He handed you a brush, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment before pulling away. "The colors are ready. Paint whatever you like.”

For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the lights and the soft beat of your heart. Something in his presence was grounding, even as his piercing gaze seemed to strip you down to your essence. You took a deep breath and stepped toward the easel, the weight of Sol's quiet encouragement settling on your shoulders. "All right," you said, gripping the brush a little tighter.

"Let's do this.” You added.

Sol’s eyes followed your every movement, unblinking and intent. The way your hand gripped the brush—a touch too tight, almost desperate—and the soft inhale you took before the bristles kissed the canvas was enough to captivate him.

To Sol, it was as though he was watching the birth of a masterpiece, even if the real art hadn’t yet materialized on the canvas. He was utterly mesmerized, a silent spectator to something far beyond mere paint and pigment.

Then, in a sudden, mischievous shift, you dipped your brush into a light green on the palette and, without hesitation, swiped it across his cheek. The coolness of the paint startled him, his eyes widening as he froze in place. For a beat, Sol said nothing, stunned into stillness. Then, slowly, a small smile began to tug at the corner of his mouth, the icy veneer of his composure cracking ever so slightly.

He raised an eyebrow, amusement glimmering in his crimson-and-orange gaze. “Really?” he asked, his voice carrying the faintest undercurrent of a chuckle as he wiped at his cheek with his fingers. “Was that necessary?”

As he spoke, his hand casually reached for another brush, dipping it into a bold shade of red.

Your grin widened at his reaction, a playful spark lighting your eyes. “Necessary?” you teased, tilting your head. “Maybe not. But it was definitely worth it. Besides,” you added, twirling your brush between your fingers, “your reaction was priceless.”

Sol’s smirk deepened, his eyes narrowing as though calculating his next move. He leaned forward slightly, closing the space between you as the red-tipped brush hovered just inches from your skin. “You’re asking for it now,” he said softly, his tone playful but laced with a subtle edge. “Challenging an artist in his territory? Bold move.”

Your heart skipped at the proximity, but you held your ground. Meeting his gaze with equal intensity, you let your smirk turn sly. “Oh, I’m not just asking for it,” you quipped, your voice low and teasing. “I’m daring you to try.”

Sol’s eyes darkened, his playful expression giving way to something more intense, almost… predatory.

The brush in his hand swayed, the paint clinging to the tip as it hovered closer to your face. His voice dropped to a whisper, sending a shiver through you. “You don’t even know what you’re playing at,” he murmured, his lips curving into a slow, wicked smile.

Then, with a sudden and deliberate movement, he swiped the red paint across the bridge of your nose. The cool sensation made you blink in surprise, but the shock quickly melted into a laugh. You reached for another brush, dipping it into a rich green. “Rules, you say?” you said with mock defiance, a glint of mischief dancing your eyes. “But isn’t breaking them half fun?”

You drew the brush across the canvas instead of retaliating directly, your strokes bold and deliberate. Sol’s eyes flicked between the emerging shapes and your determined expression, his lips twitching with a mix of admiration and confusion.

A low chuckle rumbled from his throat, the sound rich and unexpected, sending a pleasant chill down your spine. “You’re not only cheeky,” he said, watching the paint flow in deliberate curves. “You’ve got the right attitude for this. Art isn’t about staying in lines—it’s about breaking through boundaries.”

His words carried a teasing edge, but beneath them was a subtle warmth, an acknowledgment of your courage and creativity. Still, as his gaze lingered on you, there was a flicker of something unreadable in his expression.

“Careful, though,” he added softly, a smirk creeping back to his lips. “You might end up inspiring me more than the canvas.” The tension hung in the air like a taut string, electric and alive, as the two of you exchanged another glance.

You noticed the way Sol cast fleeting glances, darting his eyes between the canvas and your face. His expression was perfectly schooled, calm, and unreadable, but the tiniest flicker of amusement betrayed him. You knew he was holding back, his true opinion hidden behind that enigmatic smirk. Your eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of determination flaring within you as you paused your brush mid-stroke.

You met his gaze with a sly smile, your voice dripping with playful accusation. “You’re such a liar. Just say it—I’m bad at painting.”

Sol chuckled, a soft, throaty sound that was more amused than menacing this time. The smirk on his lips grew, and he didn’t bother to hide it as he leaned slightly against the edge of the table. “All right,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “The truth? You’re terrible at painting.” Before one could object, he held up a hand, his expression mock-serious.

"Your brushwork technique is messy, your composition is unbalanced, and your color harmony… well, let's just say it's as chaotic as your personality.” He said.

Your jaw dropped, and a flicker of indignation flashed in your eyes. But you composed yourself quickly, raising your chin in defiance. "Oh, is that right?" you retorted coolly, crossing your arms. "Well then, I suppose you think you could do a lot better."

Sol’s crimson-and-orange eyes gleamed with mischief, and he raised an eyebrow as though the answer should’ve been obvious. “Of course I could.”

Without waiting for permission, he stepped closer to the canvas, grabbing a clean brush from the palette. He leaned forward, studying your piece intently, his head tilting just slightly as he took in every line and stroke. For a moment, he said nothing, and the quiet stretched between you.

Then, with a smirk, he glanced back at you. “But don’t worry,” he said, dipping his brush into a pale yellow. “I’m not going to paint over your work. That would be cruel.” His tone softened slightly, almost imperceptibly, as he added, “You’ve got potential. Under the right tutelage, of course.”

You watched as Sol began painting over the blank spaces on the canvas. His brush moved lightly, in long, deliberate strokes. Each movement was precise, controlled, and yet carried an effortless grace. His hand didn’t hesitate, the tip of the brush gliding across the fabric like it was an extension of himself.

Your eyes drifted to his hand, caught by its hypnotic rhythm. It was larger than yours, bony yet strong, the veins along the back prominent as they flexed with the motion. The way his fingers gripped the brush with such confidence… It made you wonder, for a short second, what it might feel like if those same hands brushed against your skin instead of the canvas.

You blinked, startled by the thought, and shook your head slightly. But your gaze returned to his hands almost immediately, as though they had a gravity of their own. Something was captivating about them—the way they moved with purpose and elegance, the way the bristles danced under his direction.

“What?” Sol’s voice broke your trance, and you snapped your eyes up to meet his gaze. His lips curved into a teasing smile as though he’d caught you staring. “Don’t tell me I’ve already inspired awe.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes to cover your embarrassment. “Awe? Hardly. I’m just… observing your technique.” You gestured vaguely toward the canvas, trying to sound nonchalant. “Mm-hm,” he murmured, clearly unconvinced.

He leaned back slightly, his free hand resting on the table as he continued to paint. “So, what do you think? Learning something?”

Your lips twitched into a small smile, your earlier indignation melting into something lighter. “Well,” you began, tilting your head, “I can see that you’re good with your hands. I’ll give you that.”

Sol paused, glancing at you sidelong with a raised brow. His smirk deepened, taking on an almost dangerous edge. “Careful with compliments like that,” he said, his voice soft but laced with a playful warning. “You might give me the wrong idea.”

Heat crept into your cheeks, but you held your ground, determined not to give Sol the satisfaction of flustering you. Instead, you stepped closer, the faintest hint of a challenge in your stance. “Oh, I’m sure you’re used to hearing it,” you shot back. “You’re practically begging for praise with the way you show off.”

Sol laughed, low and rich, the sound like velvet brushing against the charged air between you. Straightening, he set his brush down and leaned slightly against the table, his gaze never leaving yours. “Maybe I am,” he admitted, his smirk widening just enough to make your pulse quicken. “But it’s working, isn’t it?”

Your brow lifted, and you tilted your head, feigning disinterest even as you studied him. His piercing gaze, the subtle confidence in his posture, that maddening smirk—it was infuriating how self-assured he was. And yet, there was something magnetic about him, something that made it impossible to look away.

You rolled your eyes, breaking the moment with a scoff. “Fine,” you said, lifting your brush again and stepping toward the canvas. “But don’t expect me to call you a genius. Not yet, anyway.”

“Fair enough,” Sol replied, his voice tinged with amusement. He shifted slightly, leaning down, watching you with a quiet intensity. The air between you felt electric and playful but threaded with an undertone of something deeper, something neither of you dared to name.

You focused on the canvas, trying to tune out the way his gaze burned into your back. But as the moments stretched, your thoughts wandered again. Did he feel it too—that spark, that pull? Or was it just your imagination running wild?

“Do you want me to guide you?” Sol’s sudden question cut through your thoughts, startling you. You glanced over your shoulder at him, your brush hesitating mid-stroke. “Guide me?” His expression flickered with faint amusement as he straightened, stepping closer. “Your brushwork on our painting,” he clarified. “Are you sure you’re paying attention?”

The flush on your cheeks deepened. You’d been so wrapped up in your thoughts—most of them about him—that you’d completely zoned out. Trying to cover your embarrassment, you huffed, lifting your chin slightly. “Of course, I’m paying attention,” you retorted, though your voice betrayed you with its defensiveness. “I’ve been observing, just like you said.”

The corner of Sol’s mouth quirked, a small, knowing smirk that sent a spark of irritation and something else through you. “Is that so?” he murmured.

Before you could respond, he moved closer, standing just behind you. The air around you shifted, warmer now, charged with his presence. You felt the heat of his body at your back, the faint rustle of fabric as he leaned in, close enough that you could feel his breath against your ear.

“You’re about as good at lying as you are at painting,” Sol said softly, his voice low and teasing. “You haven’t been paying attention to anything but me for the last five minutes.” Your protest died on your lips as his hand—larger, warmer—wrapped gently around yours, guiding your grip on the brush. You froze, your heart pounding as his chin rested lightly on your shoulder, the weight and proximity making it hard to breathe.

“Okay,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost coaxing. “Just follow me.”

Your hand moved under his guidance, the brush sweeping across the canvas in a smooth, deliberate arc. Together, you created a perfect swirl, the paint gliding like silk beneath the bristles. Your breath hitched, your gaze darting to his face out of the corner of your eye.

Sol’s focus was entirely on the canvas, his eyes following the line of the brush with the same intensity he’d given you earlier. A faint smile ghosted across his lips as he added another gentle stroke, the motion fluid and practiced. When his gaze finally flicked to yours, the warmth in his expression sent a jolt through you.

“Pay attention, please,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady the rush of emotions his proximity stirred. But then his eyes lingered a moment too long, and a small, knowing smirk curled at the edge of his lips again. Finding a burst of courage—or recklessness—you turned your head slightly, your faces just inches apart now. “I thought you said I wasn’t paying attention,” you said, your tone playful, though your voice was softer than you intended.

Sol’s smile deepened, his eyes flickering between yours and the canvas. “You weren’t,” he said, his breath brushing against your skin. “But maybe you’re finally getting the hang of it.” His low chuckle reverberated softly against your back, and the way his fingers guided your wrist—it was impossible not to feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

You swallowed hard, determined to keep your focus on the canvas in front of you, but Sol's presence was utterly overwhelming. "Maybe I just needed the right tutor," you managed to say, your voice wavering just enough to betray how unsteady you felt.

Sol let out a quiet laugh, warm and teasing. "Maybe you did," he replied, his tone carrying a playful edge. His hand adjusted slightly, guiding the brush into a smooth curve. “But you’ll need to focus for it to work.”

Easier said than done. He leaned in closer, his chest brushing lightly against your back, his breath warm on the side of your neck. Your heartbeat hammered, your skin prickling with the awareness of how close he was. His scent—a faint mix of paint, something floral, and the slightest hint of musk—filled your senses, making it almost impossible to concentrate.

The brush wavered slightly in your hand, the line on the canvas faltering. “Careful,” Sol murmured, his lips almost brushing your ear. “Don’t move too much. You’ll smudge our work.”

Your grip on the brush tightened as you fought to focus, but it was no use. The combination of his steady breathing, the warmth radiating from his body, and that damn smirk you knew was probably still on his lips—it was too much. Your arm shifted slightly, your elbow bumping against his.

Sol sighed, soft but pointed, his hand slipping away from yours. “All right,” he said, straightening up and stepping back. His tone was still calm, but there was a flicker of something firmer beneath it, something that sent a shiver down your spine. “If you can’t be still, maybe we need to change tactics.”

You blinked, turning to face him. “What do you mean?”

Without a word, Sol reached out, his hands firm but careful as he grasped your waist and guided you backward. Before you could process what was happening, you found yourself seated in his lap, his hands steadying you.

Your heart nearly stopped.

“Wha—Sol!” you sputtered, heat flooding your face as you tried to wriggle away. “Please stop moving,” he said, his voice quickly said, almost in a warming tone. His arms rested lightly on either side of you, effectively caging you in. “You said you needed the right tutor. This is part of the lesson.”

Your protest died in your throat as you felt his breath against your ear again, his warmth surrounding you completely now. Your pulse was racing, your cheeks burning, but there was something about his calm composure—like this was the most natural thing in the world—that left you utterly speechless.

“You’re too restless,” Sol said, his voice softer now, almost teasing. “You’re going to ruin our painting if you keep squirming.”

“I—I’m not squirming,” you managed, though your voice betrayed you. “Sure you’re not,” he replied, his smirk practically audible. His hands moved to guide yours again, steady and sure as he returned your focus to the canvas. “Now, relax. Let me show you how it’s done.”

Despite your flustered state, his voice and the firm yet gentle pressure of his hands steadied you, guiding the brush in smooth, deliberate strokes. The rhythm of his movements and the closeness of his presence made it impossible to think about anything else.

As you followed his guidance, your breaths began to sync with his, the tension in your shoulders loosening slightly. His hand stayed over yours, directing the brush with practiced ease.

“There,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “See how much better that feels?”

You swallowed, glancing over your shoulder at him. His gaze was focused on the canvas, but the faintest smirk still played at the corner of his lips. His eyes flicked to meet yours briefly, and the intensity in them sent another wave of warmth rushing through you.

“I think you just like being in control,” you said, trying to sound teasing, though your voice was softer than you intended.

Sol chuckled, his breath brushing against your neck. “And I think you like making things harder than they need to be.”

Your heart raced as his words lingered in the air, the tension between you palpable. But before you could respond, Sol’s hand guided yours in another gentle stroke, pulling your focus back to the canvas. “Now,” he said, his tone a bit more playful, “are you going to let me teach you, or do I need to keep you here until you finally pay attention?”

The challenge in his voice made your cheeks burn even hotter, but you rolled your eyes, gripping the brush tighter. “Fine,” you muttered. “I’ll pay attention.”

“Good,” he said, leaning slightly closer. “Because we’re not done yet.” Your pulse raced as Sol’s hands guided yours, the rhythm of the brushstrokes steady under his control. He sat perfectly at ease, holding you on his lap like it was just another part of his creative process.

And you? You were anything but composed.

“When doing this stroke, pay close attention,” Sol murmured again, his voice low and coaxing, his breath brushing against your ear. All you needed to do was Relax. As if you could do that when every inch of you felt like it was vibrating with awareness of him. “No pressure,” he added, his hand over yours, moving the brush in a smooth arc. “Unless you want to mess up and start over.”

You scoffed, tilting your head just enough to glance back at him, a mischievous spark lighting your eyes. “I think you like having me mess up,” you said, your voice laced with defiance. Sol’s lips twitched into a smirk, but he didn’t take the bait. “Maybe,” he said, his tone calm and measured. “But it’s our project. If we waste more time because of you being difficult, that’s on you.”

Something about the calm way he said it made you bristle. You shifted slightly in his lap, testing his patience as you pressed back just enough to feel the firmness of his chest against your back.

“I’m not being difficult,” you said, your tone saccharine and falsely sweet. You turned your head more, your eyes narrowing as you added, “I just think you’re enjoying this a little too much, Sol.”

His brow arched slightly, the only indication that you’d gotten under his skin. “Am I?” he asked, his voice still maddeningly even. But as you shifted again—this time deliberately moving in a way that pressed closer to him—you felt the way his body tensed beneath you.

The faintest hint of red crept into Sol’s cheeks, and his hand on yours tightened slightly before releasing, his composure faltering just enough to make your lips curve into a triumphant smile.

“See?” you said, turning fully now so you were half-facing him, still perched on his lap. “You do enjoy it.”

His crimson-and-orange gaze flicked over you, lingering for just a moment too long before snapping back to your eyes. Something about him was... off.

Not in an unsettling way, but in a way that made your skin prickle with awareness. The piercing gaze from those luminous eyes seemed to see more of you than you intended to show. His silence spoke volumes, each glance and measured movement a language of its own.

The way he painted and the way he carried himself made it hard to distinguish where the artist ended, and the art began. Sol wasn't just quiet. He was quiet. And in that stillness, you found yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame—a dangerous, beautiful thing you couldn't resist.

You noticed it then—the way his expression shifted, the way his pupils dilated slightly as he took in the way your outfit clung to you, a simple, black shirt with a matching pencil skirt, looking like a dress, more fitted than he’d probably realized earlier.

“You’re pushing your luck,” Sol said softly, his voice carrying a warning edge. He was stiff beneath you, his posture taut, as though holding himself together with sheer willpower.

But you weren’t backing off.

Instead, you tilted your neck and leaned in, your face stopping mere inches from his. “Am I?” you whispered, the deliberate echo of his earlier words carrying a teasing, brash confidence.

His reaction was almost immediate. The flush on his cheeks deepened, painting his pale skin with a rosy hue that crept to the tips of his ears. You shifted back slightly in his lap, letting your back brush against his chest, and the sudden contact made him jerk awkwardly on the stool.

Sol swallowed hard, his hands gripping the edges of the seat as though he was anchoring himself. “Please stop,” he said, quieter this time, his voice almost a plea. But the way his molten gaze locked onto yours betrayed him—he didn’t mean it. “Aw.. Why?” you asked, tilting your head with mock innocence. “Am I distracting a great artist from his work?”

His jaw tightened, the muscles flexing as his hands flexed on the stool. The tension radiating from him was palpable, and it only spurred you on. His composure was crumbling, piece by piece, and you were determined to break it completely.

“You’re impossible,” Sol muttered, his voice strained.

The triumph in your smile grew, and you leaned closer, just enough for your breath to tease the sensitive skin of his neck. “You could always make me stop,” you murmured, your voice soft and challenging.

For a moment, Sol didn’t move, his gaze flicking between your lips and your eyes. His breathing grew heavier, each exhales brushing against your cheek. You could almost hear the war raging inside him, every bit of his control battling the undeniable pull between you.

Then, in one swift motion, his hand slid to your waist. The firm but steady grip steadied you as he leaned forward, his lips brushing against the side of your neck in a fleeting, feather-light kiss that sent a jolt of electricity racing through you.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you pressed back further into him, daring him to take another step.

Sol’s response was immediate. His teeth grazed your neck, the gentle nibble enough to leave you breathless and your pulse hammering in your ears. His other hand moved to your hip, holding you firmly in place as he pressed another kiss to your neck, this one lingering longer, his lips warm and insistent.

“Still think I’m enjoying this too much?” he murmured, his voice rough and ragged against your skin. Your smirk faltered as heat flushed through you, your ability to respond stolen by the heady sensations he was creating.

Sol chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck, sending another shiver coursing through you. “What’s the matter?” he teased, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear. “You’re quiet now.”

You swallowed hard, forcing your voice to steady. “I-I’m just giving you a chance to prove your point,” you said, though your defiance was flickering with every second.

“Oh, I’ll prove it,” Sol murmured, his lips curving into a smirk against your skin.

His fingers brushed the hem of your top, skimming the fabric aside to expose more of your collarbone. He continued his trail of kisses, his lips soft but deliberate, his teeth occasionally nipping at the sensitive skin and likely leaving faint red marks.

Your breath came in shallow gasps, your mind clouded with the sensation of his mouth, his hands, and the heat of his body enveloping you. When you shifted slightly, testing his patience, Sol growled low in his throat.

He tugged you closer with a sudden movement, turning you slightly on his lap so you faced him. His hands gripped your hips, firm but careful, making sure you wouldn’t lose your balance. His body pressed flush against yours, his thighs anchoring you in place, leaving no space between you.

The sudden awareness of your positions sent a jolt through you, the contrast between his firm frame and your softness making you hyper-aware of every point of contact. His chest brushed yours as he leaned closer, his voice low and dripping with intensity. “Was this an accident?” he asked, his gaze burning into yours. “Or was it on purpose?”

You swallowed thickly, turning your neck behind yourself to allow your eyes to drift to the hollow of his throat. Slowly, you reached out, your index finger tracing a light, teasing path along his collarbone. “Possibly… both,” you murmured.

His hand shot out, catching your wrist before you could trail your touch any lower. His grip was firm but not painful, his expression a mix of frustration and desire as he forced you to meet his gaze.

“How long,” he asked, his voice dangerously soft, “are you going to keep staring at me?”

Your lips curved into a slow, teasing smile as you tilted your head. “As long as I want to,” you said with a defiant edge. “What’s wrong? Are you going to punish me more?”

His grip on your wrist tightened slightly, and his other hand pressed against the small of your back, holding you steady as he leaned in closer. “Don’t be cocky,” he warned, his voice dropping to a rough, predatory whisper. “You don’t want to know the kind of things I’m imagining.”

You glanced down at the growing tension between you—at the unmistakable bulge pressing against your thigh. A flicker of boldness sparked in your expression as your fingers teased over his chest. “I think I already know,” you whispered.

Sol’s eyes darkened, his breath hitching as he tensed beneath you. His lips brushed your ear, his voice a strained mix of frustration and want. “You’re playing with fire,” he murmured, his tone rough, almost ragged.

Before you could form a reply, Sol leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that stole the air from your lungs. It wasn’t gentle—it was raw, demanding, and full of the hunger he’d been holding back. Your eyes widened in shock at first, the boldness of his move catching you completely off guard.

But that shock melted quickly, replaced by an undeniable pull that made you lean into him.

Sol’s hands moved to your hips, gripping firmly as he turned you fully to face him on his lap. The motion was smooth but decisive, his strength evident as he shifted you effortlessly. Your knees now rested on either side of his thighs, your bodies pressed flush against one another.

The new position heightened the intensity, your chest brushing his with each labored breath. Sol’s hands slid up your back, pulling you closer, while his lips moved against yours with a hunger that left you breathless.

You didn’t hesitate, your hands moving to the sides of his face, holding him there as you matched his fervor with your own. The kiss deepened, turning messy and desperate, your mouths moving in sync as though trying to consume each other completely.

Sol broke away for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath, his eyes burning into yours with a heat that made your skin tingle. “You’re relentless,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, his fingers pressing into your lower back.

You smirked, your lips brushing his as you replied, “And you’re loving it.”

Before he could respond, you leaned back in, reclaiming his mouth with a force that left him no room to argue. Your hands moved instinctively, reaching behind him to untie the apron, quickly removing it from him to have a clear view of his chest.

Slowly, your index finger drags itself down his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. The urgency of the moment consumed you, and your fingers found the buttons of his shirt, fumbling at first, then unfastening them one by one with increasing speed.

Sol groaned softly against your lips, the sound vibrating through you and making your pulse race. His hands moved again, one slipping up to cradle the back of your head, the other gripping your waist to keep you anchored against him.

As his shirt fell open, your hands splayed against his bare chest, your fingertips brushing over his warm skin. The contrast between the cool air and his heat sent a shiver through him, his tone muscles tensing under your touch.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, your eyes raking over him as you took in the sight of his now-exposed chest. His skin was pale smooth, his collarbone pronounced, and the faint sheen of sweat glistening under the low light made him look utterly irresistible.

Sol’s lips twitched into a smirk at your lingering gaze, though his eyes were heavy with want. “Like what you see?” he teased, though his voice was uneven, betraying his arousal.

Instead of answering, you leaned in again, your lips finding the hollow of his throat. You pressed open-mouthed kisses down the column of his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin as your hands continued their exploration. Sol tilted his head back slightly, giving you better access as a low growl escaped him.

“You’re insatiable,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, a wicked smile playing on your lips. “And you’re complaining?” you shot back, your tone dripping with challenge.

Sol’s hands slid up your sides, his thumbs grazing the edge of your ribs as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing yours again. “Not a chance,” he murmured against your mouth, before pulling you into another searing kiss.

The kiss deepened, growing more fervent with each passing second. Your fingers tangled in his hair, the strands silky yet wild, as his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him. The heat of his bare chest against yours, the intoxicating rhythm of his lips moving over yours—it was overwhelming, drowning out every thought but him. Your breaths mingled, uneven and ragged, as you both surrendered to the storm of desire building between you.

With deliberate boldness, your hand began a slow descent, sliding over his toned stomach to the waistband of his pants. While he remained engrossed in the kiss, you let your fingers drift lower, brushing against the hardness beneath his pants. A sharp intake of breath escaped Sol’s lips, his body tensing against yours. His grip faltered briefly, but his response was immediate.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his heterochromatic eyes ablaze with unfiltered desire. His breath came in quick, shallow gasps as he tried to regain control. “You’re playing with fire,” he rasped, his voice a low, gravelly whisper, both warning and temptation.

Instead of pulling away, his hands found your hips once more, his fingers digging in just enough to ground you, to anchor himself. He tilted his hips slightly, pressing into your touch as a shudder ran through him. His challenge hung in the air like a gauntlet thrown at your feet, daring you to keep going.

Your lips curved into a sly smile, your voice laced with teasing defiance. “Then I’ll just have to handle the heat,” you murmured. Leaning closer, your breath ghosted over his ear as you added, “Didn’t you say I need to work on my brushwork?”

With deliberate intent, you slid your hand along the curve of his waistband, unbuttoning his pants with practiced ease. Sol groaned low in his throat, the sound reverberating through his chest and into yours. His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you impossibly closer as if trying to meld you into him.

“I didn’t mean… this,” he muttered, though his tone betrayed how much he wanted it. His lips found your neck, trailing heated kisses along your skin as he fought to keep his control intact. His body trembled beneath your touch, his breath hot and ragged against your throat.

Your hand ventured lower, and as his pants gave way, you were met with the proof of his desire. The sight of his cock—pale like his skin, flushed with need, and curve glistening pink tip—sent a wave of heat through you. You couldn’t help but marvel at him, at how his body responded so wholly to you.

Sol groaned again, his head falling back as he fought the urge to completely unravel. “F-Fuck this shit,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and raw.

With a sudden burst of need, he grabbed your hand, his rough fingers intertwining with yours as he guided you to his cock, wrapping your hand around it.

His eyes burned into yours, a silent plea and a command wrapped in one. “If you’re going to do this,” he growled, “then do it right. After all, I’m the tutor,”

The juxtaposition of his firm grip and your softer touch sent shivers through him, his body responding instinctively to your every movement. He bit back a curse, his jaw clenched, yet his eyes remained locked on yours, filled with both vulnerability and hunger as he helps you move his cock up and down.

The way his hand enveloped yours, guiding you with deliberate control, sent a jolt of heat through your body. His skin was hot beneath your palm, pulsing with need, the intensity of it making your breath hitch. The sensation of being so intimately connected, of having him at your mercy, was intoxicating. Your lips curved into a sly, knowing smile as you met his gaze with a sultry intensity.

"Then guide me, Sol," you murmured, voice low with a hint of teasing.

His eyes darkened, his breath catching at your words. For a moment, it seemed as though he might lose his composure entirely, but instead, he pressed closer, the heat of his body radiating into yours. His hands tightened over yours, steady and commanding, as he guided your movements with aching precision.

"Guide you?" he rasped, his voice rough with barely contained desire. "Gladly."

His fingers wrapped firmly around yours, leading you in a slow, deliberate rhythm around his cock. Each movement was an exquisite torment, a maddening mix of control and surrender that left you craving more. His voice, low and gravelly, brushed over your skin like a caress. "Like this," he whispered.

The feel of him beneath your touch was overwhelming, a mix of heat and tension that made your chest tighten and your pulse quicken. As his hand fell away, relinquishing control to you, the look in his eyes—half-lidded and burning with need—was almost too much to bear.

Taking charge, you continued the motion, your strokes deliberate and teasing. Sol's breaths grew heavier, his head falling back slightly as he tried to stifle the low groans that escaped his lips. But he couldn’t hold back the quiet whines that followed, each sound unraveling you further.

The weight of you on his lap, the way your hips shifted against him—whether intentional or not—drove him wild. His hands gripped your waist tightly as though grounding himself was the only way to keep himself from losing control—and you from falling.

His face flushed a deep red, his jaw tightening as his breaths came faster, his body trembling beneath you. His arousal was undeniable, glistening with beads of precum that caught the light as they slid down his length. The sight alone was enough to make your stomach tighten with desire, but it was the sounds he made—low, broken groans turning into quiet, breathless whimpers—that truly undid you.

Sol’s tired yet desperate eyes met yours, silently begging for more, even as his body surrendered entirely to your touch. The vulnerability in his gaze was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but feel a wicked thrill at the power you held over him. Every gasp, every shudder, every barely audible plea only pulled you deeper into the moment, the fire between you burning hotter with each passing second.

You begin rudding the slit on his tip, dipping your finger on the pre-cum, smudging it across the tip, “A-ahh…” That alone sent a chilling feeling down his spine. Then you wonder for a second.

Just how far you could take this?

And, as if he could read her mind, Sol’s voice was broken into another gasp at the feel of her finger on his tip. You smirked, leaning in close to his ear. “Does that feel good, Sol?” You smirked, leaning in close to his ear.

Sol let out a strangled, guttural moan, his body shuddering at your touch, his breathing labored and strained. He gripped the edge of the stool as if holding on for dear life, his knuckles turning white. "Y-Yeah," he managed to gasp, his voice trembling the words out.

"Feels... so good." His head fell back, his eyes fluttering closed as you continued your ministrations, his body completely at your mercy.

As he tried his best to muffle the pathetic whimpers that were threatening to escape his lips with his free hand covering his mouth, Sol was coming undone, every touch, every gentle caress pulling him closer and closer to the edge. And he couldn’t get enough of how your delicate fingers all wrapped nicely around his cock.

Hearing his voice, broken and needy, sent a thrill coursing through you, intensifying your desire for him. This side of Sol—a man usually so composed and enigmatic—was uncharted territory, and you were quickly losing yourself in the discovery.

You leaned back slightly, just enough to drink in the sight of him, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. “Just good?” you purred, your voice dripping with mock innocence. “Or does it feel better than that?”

“Pumpkin,” he rasped, his voice deep and trembling with barely contained restraint. It took everything in him to hold back, but the way your sharp, half-lidded eyes bore into him, your smirk only widening as your hand pumped him faster—it was driving him to the edge. “I-I’m close, please… please...” He moaned,

“Oops, sorry~” you cooed, amusement dancing in your tone as if you weren’t purposefully unraveling him by slowing down.

Sol’s body jolted under your touch, another strangled moan escaping his lips as his grip on the stool tightened. He was trembling, the effort to maintain control wearing thin. His breaths came in ragged gasps, each one sharper than the last. “Come on… Please…” He whines, “Let me cum, I want to cum… Will you let me, pumpkin?” He begged.

His breathing is ragged, tiny beads of sweat rolling down his cheek, some of his hair sticking to his face as you pump his cock—dare you say, he looks hot like this.

You grin again, that same slow, cat-got-the-canary sort of smile from before. Are you enjoying this? Maybe it’s just a teeny bit too much.

“Mmh, I don’t know,” You say, tone light and mocking, considering it while pumping him faster. “Are you sure you’ve been good enough to deserve that, Sol~?”

Sol's face flushed crimson as he groaned under your touch, his body reacting with an involuntary twitch. He could barely hold himself together, the effort nearly breaking him. Your teasing, the way you toyed with him like this. It was enough to drive him insane with need. And yet... he loves it.

“Please,” he panted, his voice choked with need. “Please, pumpkin... don't tease me anymore.”

You grin, your breath catching in your throat for a brief moment at the sound of his pleading. He’s so desperate, and again—it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

Before you get to reply, you are stuck watching, listening to him. With one last stroke, he came. You feel a warm, sticky substance splatter against your face, and you gasp in surprise, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment. When you open it back up, you see your hands are covered in… his cum.

He whines, trembling under your touch. “Fuck…” He grumbles… before chuckling breathlessly, his chest rising and falling with each ragged inhale. He looked at you, his eyes darkened with desire, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You're a tease, you know that...?" he murmured, his voice still hoarse. He reaches up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers leaving a smudge of his cum on your skin.

You laugh softly, eyes fluttering closed at the touch of his fingers against your face. You can still taste him on your lips. “I’m aware, and I love it,” You say, your tongue darting out to lick a stray bit of his cum away, “Such a good boy.”

Sol's heart skipped a beat at the sight of your tongue running across your lips. He could hardly contain himself, his body still thrumming with a mix of need and satisfaction.

"You're... you're going to be the death of me, Pumpkin," he said, strained and thick. "I swear... you're going to drive me insane." Before you could respond, his hands shot forward, gripping your wrists roughly, halting your movements. “You know, It takes a true artist to know how to use their hands,” he muttered through clenched teeth, his frustration and desire boiling over.

“Right now, I feel inspired. With your body so close to mine—” his gaze flicked to you, sharp and burning, “—you gonna feel so good once I get through painting you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, his grip on your wrists firm and electrifying. Yet, you didn’t back down. Instead, your smirk deepened, and you tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Aww, it’s cute when you get all frustrated like that.” you quipped, resuming your teasing pace despite his attempt to rein you in.

Sol’s jaw clenched, a growl rumbling deep in his chest as his eyes blazed with irritation and helpless desire. “Teasing me like this,” he gasped, his voice cracking under the weight of his need, “You deserve to be punished.”

“Sorry? Punished?” You repeated, arching a brow, your smirk faltering for a moment as curiosity mingled with arousal.

His hands released your wrists, moving instead to the hem of your shirt. Slowly, deliberately, he began sliding it upward, his touch igniting sparks along your skin.

He lifted your shirt, his movements were unhurried yet firm, tossing it aside without a second thought. The cool air kissed your bare skin, making you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat in Sol’s gaze. His eyes roamed over your body unabashedly, dark with want, his intensity sending your pulse racing.

The way he looked at you—devoured you—was intoxicating. You felt your breath hitch, your skin tingling under his gaze as if he were leaving invisible marks with every flick of his eyes. Sol leaned in slightly, his voice low and gravelly, sending shivers cascading down your spine. “Now let’s see if you’re ready for what you started.”

The lace of your black bra barely had a chance to tease him before Sol unclasped it with uncharacteristic haste. His breath caught in his throat as the fabric fell away, leaving your bare skin exposed to the cool air. The curve of your shoulders, the elegant line of your neck, and the sight of your hardened nipples sent a shiver of desire coursing through him.

You were breathtaking, more so than any image his mind could have conjured. The reality of you—your warmth, your movement, the way you bared yourself so freely—was utterly consuming.

As you slipped off the remaining layers with deliberate ease, Sol found himself captivated, unable to look away. "You're staring," you teased, your voice low and sultry, tinged with amusement. "See something you like?"

He tried to respond, but the words caught in his throat, his mind blank save for the raw need coursing through him. He swallowed hard, his gaze trailing shamelessly over your body, lingering on every curve, every delicate line of skin.

He wanted to touch, to claim, to make you his in every sense. But he hesitated, almost afraid of the depth of his desire. The way you looked, so confident and alluring, made him feel as though he was standing on the edge of a precipice, and all he wanted was to jump.

Sol's hands moved almost without thought, tracing the length of your legs, the curve of your knee, the delicate arch of your foot. His reverence for you bordered on worship, a devotion so intense it frightened him. He had tried to keep it at bay, but now that he had you like this, so open and vulnerable, he felt the weight of his restraint snapping.

He was a man who could get lost in his own obsession, and with you, it was dangerously easy. Sol didn’t just want you—he craved you, a hunger so profound it threatened to unravel him entirely.

With trembling hands, he slid your pencil skirt down your hips, the fabric pooling on the floor with a careless toss. He left the lace of your black panties on, unable to resist the way they hugged your body so perfectly. His lips found your neck, pressing kisses against the sensitive skin as he let his hands explore.

The only thing separating you now was the thin layer of fabric between you, damp with evidence of your arousal. Sol’s thumb moved instinctively, pressing gently against the damp spot, and the soft gasp you let out was like fuel to the fire burning inside him.

Your reaction sent his heart racing, his body trembling with restrained need. But when you whispered his name, your voice breathless and trembling, it pulled him back from the brink.

“Sol,” you murmured, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. “Wait… you’re going a little too fast.”

The words hung in the air like a sudden stillness before a storm. Sol froze, his hands pausing mid-motion on your body. His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling heavily as he pulled back, his intense gaze locking onto yours. A mix of frustration and unspoken yearning flickered in his eyes, the tension between you crackling like electricity.

“Too fast?” he echoed, his voice hoarse and tinged with disbelief. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “You’re the one who started the fire, said you can handle it, and now you’re telling me to slow down?”

He let out a soft, strained laugh, the sound laced with both amusement and restraint, as though he was trying to tether himself to reality. Still, he relented, easing the intensity of his movements.

Slowly, he reached down, unzipping his jeans and pushing them just enough to loosen their grip, his shirt discarded in the process. His gaze softened, though the heat in his eyes remained, a smoldering flame that refused to extinguish.

“This is still your punishment, Pumpkin,” he murmured, a crooked smile playing at his lips as he leaned in, brushing a featherlight kiss to your lips.

The kiss was different this time—rough, more forceful. His lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw and down to your neck, each kiss feeling like a vow unspoken. The world outside faded, leaving only the two of you suspended at this moment. He moved further, his lips exploring your collarbone and sternum with reverence, his warmth leaving a trail of fire across your skin.

His hands trembled slightly as they cupped your chest, his touch reverent but firm, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh like he was trying to memorize the feel of you. His breath hitched as he brushed his thumbs over your nipples, the gentle pressure sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, more to himself than to you, his voice thick with wonder. “So damn pretty.”

Your mind swirled with the weight of his words, his touch, his presence. The heat between you was overwhelming, your body arching into his hands as he explored with care and devotion. Each kiss, each touch, sent waves of sensation rippling through you, leaving you breathless.

“Sol…” you breathed, your voice trembling with both hesitation and longing. “Please…”

But instead of heeding your plea, he pressed forward, his lips finding the sensitive peak of your chest. He kissed you there with aching tenderness, his tongue tracing slow circles as his hand mirrored his movements. A soft moan escaped your lips, and he hummed in approval, his grip steadying you as you began to unravel under his touch.

He paused only to meet your gaze, his eyes filled with something deeper than desire—an emotion too profound for words.

He quickly shifted you, his hands firm yet careful as he turned you toward the painting you and he both made. The cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, the contrast heightening your awareness of his every movement.

He moved behind you, his breath warm against your neck. For a moment, he hesitated, his fingers brushing down your skin to the fabric of your panties. He slid them down slowly, his movements deliberate, almost reverent, before throwing them on the floor.

He forced you to lean on your back against his firm chest, the back of your head resting against his shoulder as his hands stayed on your hips.

Soon his hand slid beneath your chin, tilting your face upward with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. His gaze locked onto yours, a tempest of emotions swirling in his red-orange eyes—desire, restraint, and something unspoken yet intense.

“Sorry, Pumpkin,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvet whisper, “but I need you.”

He adjusted your position, the shift sending a jolt of sensation through you as his cock settled snugly against your bare heat. A soft, broken sound escaped your lips—a breathy, high-pitched “A-Ah!”—and your half-lidded eyes met his. In his fiery gaze, the pupils seemed to ripple, almost heart-shaped, as though they reflected his overwhelming hunger for you.

Sol began to move, rubbing cock rather fast and rough against your cunt, his hips pressing forward until he found that sweet, electrifying spot. Your voice spilled out again, light and melodic, each sound like a chime caught on the breeze. His movements became more assured, each thrust purposeful as he reveled in the way your body responded to his.

He had you now—completely, utterly his.

Your bodies melded together in perfect rhythm, your breaths and sighs tangling as if they were one. Sol’s senses were flooded with you: the subtle rise and fall of your chest, the faint tension in your spine that dissolved beneath his touch. Each reaction, each sound you made, only drove him deeper into the intoxicating realization that you were exactly where he wanted you—wrapped in his embrace, utterly lost in him.

He has you in his grasp, but he wants to hold onto you tighter.

He focuses on where your lower bodies meet, tongue poked between his lips and furrow in his brow. Drives his hard cock rubbing against your bare cunt, catching the crown into your clit until you’re shaking underneath him. Sol can’t think anymore, lost in the feeling of wonderful pleasure.

If it feels so good like this, being inside you might be too much.

So close in proximity that Sol can hear each of your short pants. Erratic and almost thoughtlessly driven by one single thing: pleasing you. Feeling each other, all wrapped up together.

Drawing out those moans as he pinches your nipples at your tits, making you feel how hard he is. How pent-up, needy, and fucking horny he is all for you. Just humping your soft, sweet cunt makes Sol want to risk everything he’s got with you.

The push and pull of too much and not enough at the same time. It’s so fucking euphoric. Your cunt keeps wetter and wetter, and Sol doesn’t know if it’s you or him - his pre-cum dribbling agasint your needy cunt. He can feel your pussy pulse and tremble. Your spine goes stiff, and Sol pulls away to look at you.

You’re so pretty. You’re on edge, in complete bliss, and so fucking pretty only for his eyes to see.

“A-ah, Sol—please, wait,” you gasped, your words trembling as pleasure coursed through you. Sol froze for a moment, his eyes wide and blazing, the sound of your plea cutting through the haze of his need. Frustration flickered across his face, mingling with something softer, something more conflicted.

He didn’t want to wait—couldn’t—not with the way your body moved beneath him, flushed and trembling, your breath hitching with every touch.

Your mind was a haze of heat and sensation, your body barely keeping up with the overwhelming pleasure that had left you spiraling. And when you both reached that peak together—his cum spilling over as yours soaked on tophim in return—it was a moment that burned itself into his memory.

A first—he made you come with him. The sight of you arching against him, your cries echoing in his ears, left him undone, his breath ragged and unsteady as he trembled, listening to your pretty moans.

Sol’s hands remained firm on your hips, anchoring you as his gaze devoured you. Again, the image of you—writhing, broken, and entirely his—was seared into his mind, a memory he wanted to relive over and over again. His heart pounded as he leaned forward, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both desperate and adoring, his tongue teasing yours in a way that left you breathless.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, I need…” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and raw with emotion. His nose nuzzled against your cheek before he kissed the corner of your mouth, his words pouring out in a slow, deliberate cadence.

“I want to see it again,” he said, his tone steady but trembling with need. “I want you to cum again, Pumpkin.”

The vulnerability in his voice stirred something inside you, but your body was already at its limit. You pulled back slightly, your breath still uneven as your gaze met his. “Sol, I... I don’t think I can,” you admitted softly, your voice tinged with exhaustion.

His eyes darkened the fire in them dimming for a moment, replaced by something closer to concern. His hands softened their grip, and he leaned back just enough to study your face, his expression caught between worry and restraint. “Did I hurt you?” he asked gently, his voice quieter now, though the tension in his body remained.

You shook your head quickly, your words coming in a rush. “No, no, you didn’t. I just—”

“Then you can keep going,” he interrupted, his tone almost pleading, his patience unraveling at the edges. His gaze was intense and unwavering, and you felt your resolve waver under the weight of his need.

“Sol,” you tried again, shaking your head as you placed a hand on his chest. “I’m tired. You’ve... you’ve worn me out. And you’ve got to be tired too—don’t you think? What about our project?”

His brows furrowed as he let out a frustrated groan, his body taut with tension. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. “It can wait.”

Your breath caught as his hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips again and pulling you against him yet again. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips grazing your skin. “You look so damn good like this,” he murmured, his voice tinged with reverence. “Messy and perfect—covered in our cum.”

A shiver ran through you as his hands explored your body, his touch deliberate and reverent. "How much more should I paint you?" He kissed a trail down your neck and shoulders, his lips soft yet possessive. The warmth of his breath against your skin sent a fresh wave of heat through you, despite your exhaustion.

“Sol, please,” you whispered, though the words lacked conviction.

He didn’t respond, his silence heavy with meaning as his hands moved lower, his touch firm but gentle, as though committing every curve and contour of your body to memory. His fingers brushed over your thighs, then between them, the featherlight touch making you tremble.

When he finally touched you—his fingers tracing over the sensitive folds of your cunt, slick and sticky from your shared cum—a sharp gasp escaped your lips. He groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he focused on you, his movements both precise and overwhelming.

“Can you feel it?” he whispered, his voice rough but laced with tenderness. “How much I want you, need you? How much I love you?”

The words struck something deep within you, and though you were overwhelmed, you couldn’t deny the magnetic pull of his touch, his voice, his very presence. He didn’t need to say it aloud; every caress, every glance, told you everything he couldn’t put into words.

Sol was an artist, and you were caught in the vision of it—a dangerous one. You’re trembling with anticipation. A sense of contentment washes over Sol as his breath fans over your neck.

Sol can feel how worked up you are. You’re quiet and tense. Some part of him wants to leave you like that, waiting, but the other part of him wants to give you everything you’ve ever asked for. He gives into the latter because that’s what he wants more.

He used his free hand that was grounded you to lap, reaching down to lift his now hard cock agasint your bare cunt with a deep sigh, and a pleased hum.

He loves the way you smell, the scent of sex and arousal mixed with the fancy soaps you keep in your bathroom.

Your pussy is as pretty as you are, a sheen of arousal all along your slit. Your clit peeks through, swelling from need. Sol uses his tip to kiss your opening without thinking. He starts slow. Lays his cock flat against the seam of your cunt before dragging it up and down once, rubbing you again however, this time, it almost slips inside of you.

You lose a little of what little control you had. Your body jerks back against him, and you bite back a moan. Sol felt that—he can’t get enough of you. Neither can you.

He moans in appreciation, repeating the gesture as he pulls your pussy closer. He gazes and looks down at you. You’re so pretty it makes him want to please. He repeats this over and over, grinding on your clit on his hard and needy cock, throbbing against the soft, smooth muscle as he gains a sort of rhythm.

He gauges your reaction when he tries something new, adding pressure until you’re squirming underneath him. When you start growing noisier, Sol knows he’s hit the right pace.

And he stays like that for a bit, your pussy soaking more of his cock. He adjusts himself slightly, rubbing his fingers between your folds. You let out a soft "A-ah" above him, making him want to laugh. He keeps at it, his fingers sliding far enough to tease your entrance. Your hole is squeezing without him having done much at all, his middle finger teasing and prodding.

“Sol stop! Don’t t-tease so much,” You pant. Sol nearly blows again, listening to you talk like that. He didn’t think you could be so cute.

Sol couldn’t help but smirk, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. "But I love teasing you," he whispered against your skin, "hearing you pant and moan, wanting more but not quite getting what you need."

His finger kept playing around your entrance, just kind of going in circles on your sensitive bits. "Besides, it's fun to watch you squirm to my touch," he said, sliding his middle finger into you like it was nothing. It's not that hard. You're so wet for him, it's crazy. Your walls feel super soft and inviting, all syrupy when he touches them.

Sol loves the way your cunt feels, taking his time to go in and out slowly enough that the tension just fades away. He really gets in there with his middle finger, and when it looks like you're not tense anymore—he goes and adds another one. He's doing both at the same time—and there's this moment where it's just a whole lot of sensation for you.

Eventually, it stops being just a sensation, and it shifts into pleasure. He presses his fingers into you hard, really massaging that soft spongy spot, he can feel you lean forward, nearly lurching forward.

Your back arches, mouth hanging open, “S-Sol!” You moaned.

Another feeling of pride spreads through his chest, his whole body. He wants you to let go again just like this. While he fingers your weepy cunt—he wants to see how far he can push. How wet you can get before he ever gets inside.

His fingers can feel the way your walls tighten up so hard and the tremors of the aftermath. Your back curves against him as you cum again closing your thighs, hard for him, and he can feel it.

He can feel you cum over his cock once more. He can see you, see the pleasure crash into you like a tidal wave. A second. Sol made you cum twice in a row, this time without him. You practically pry him off as you ride the wave of your high. You sighed deeply as you watched Sol lick his fingers. "You taste so sweet, all because of me~" He breathed out, looking down at you.

“Are you done?” You asked, tiredly wore out.

Sol's eyes darkened at your question, his body still thrumming with a unsatisfied need. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind.

"Done?" he echoed, his voice rough. "I'm far from done, Pumpkin.” He sits you up on his lap, fixing you to completely lay back naked and beautiful, tugging open your thighs for your cunt to rest on top of his cock once more. “Sol I can’t please.” You quickly reached onto his shaft, stopping him.

Sol's mind went blank when you touched him, the sensation sending a shiver down his spine. His breath hitched, and he looked up at you through hazy eyes, his body quivering with need. He wanted you, desperately, but he also knew he had to stop.

"Pumpkin," he panted, his voice strained. "I... I don’t think I can handle any more of your teasing.” He said with heart eyes, “Just let this happen, please.”

His tone is so needy, so desperate, and it shoots straight through you, making your body shiver. You can feel just how badly he wants you, needs you. Already itching to do it a third.

"I-I wasn't trying to tease you,” You whisper, your voice soft and shaky. “I’m just... I’m just tired, Sol. I am.”

You try to pull back, even just a little, to put some space between them, but he's holding you tight against his back, “We’re almost there. Just one more…” He breathes out, stroking his cock, guiding the tip to your cunt opening, ‘I wanna feel you…” He mumbled, slowly pushing himself inside, “A-Ah, Sol!” You pleaded, trying to close your legs, but he forced them open.

“Don’t fight it.” He warned, pushing himself in. Your cunt squeezes your opening, not letting his cock inside before he goes in frustration while biting your neck to distract you, “Ahhh!” You mown in pain.

His hands gripped you tightly, anchoring you to him as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. He was completely undone, his desire for you eclipsing everything else, his body responding to the need pulsing through him.

In the haze of his hunger, he vaguely registers the absence of protection, but it barely registers in his mind, overshadowed by the overwhelming need to have you. A fleeting moment of tension flares before it melts into pure, white-hot pleasure, every inch of being inside you sent him aflame.

You feel incredible—like nothing he’s ever known. His arms tighten around your body, pulling you closer, coaxing you down another inch on his cock. His lips find your neck again, this time with more urgency, his teeth sinking more into your skin as he fights to hold himself back.

The taste of you, the feel of you—it’s almost too much. He wants to make this last. He won’t let it slip away too quickly. Sol’s not ready to lose himself just yet; he wants to savor every second of this.

Sol lowers you steadily until all of him is inside. Your expression is slightly pinched, and your whole body trembles, uncomfortable, almost in pain as you adjust to his size. You arch your back, hands reaching to take root in his hair. “P-Pumpkin!” He moaned. The sensation of tension on his scalp makes his cock twitch inside you.

The pressure is almost too much, making you gasp in the air through your teeth. You hold on tight to his arms, “Oh god,” You moan, your head falling back. “You’re... you’re actually intense. I can feel...” Your voice trails off, replaced by a whimper. Every nerve feels like it’s on fire, overwhelmed.

Before you get a chance to adjust to the feeling, he picks your hips and slams them back down on his cock without breaking a sweat. You nearly scream, your hands immediately reach down, squeezing his wrists, trying to make him slow down. He gives you a wry grin; he almost wants you to plead for your mercy.

“Aw.. want me to go slower?” Sol asked, “You have to beg for it~” Your eyes widen, and another soft gasp slips past your lips, your body tensing against him. The pressure and the fullness are almost too much, overwhelming in the best way possible.

He feels so good, so good...

You nod slightly, your voice coming out as a whimper. “Please,” You whispered, “Just stop, please...” Your body shakes as you speak. “Too much... too much at once...”

Sol's eyes gleam with a feral look, his body trembling with the effort to control himself. He pauses for a moment, his hands stilling on your hips, his breathing ragged.

"Too much for you, huh?" he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse. "You can't handle it, can you, Pumpkin?"

There's a hint of challenge in his tone, a hint of desire to keep going, to push your limits even further.

Repeating the motion but slower showing his hint of worry. He knows he needs to be careful, rocking you steadily onto his cock. The pace is controlled and smooth, a rhythmic pass of your hips over and over.

Your insides threaten to dissolve him whole, turn him liquid from the inside out as he makes you ride him in reverse, moving his hips up and down while keeping you in place.

He watches as your breasts bounce as he leans forward, his chin coming to rest against your neck just enough for Sol to see the concentration etched upon your face. He watches you as you discover your pleasure in this moment—it makes you look utterly captivating. The feeling of him is nothing short of exquisite.

He shifts his hands to your hips to pull you closer to him, not changing the rhythm he wanted as you hug him tight.

The room resounds with the sound of skin meeting skin: a sticky smack as your body strikes Sol's thighs with enough force. Every nerve in his body is on edge, alive with sensation. His hand glides gently before your body, teasing your clit as he urges you to ride him.

Sol forces as he feels you again, a new surge of excitement drenching him. He's becoming more sensitive to the times when you approach your climax. Your wetness is so invitingly greasy for him because of him. It is so messy that it's running down his length down onto his balls, turning his pants into a wet puddle from underneath you.

He feels you stiffen in expectation—little contractions that bring you to the brink. His breathing comes in quick, shallow bursts as he watches you chase your climax, his hands gripping your hips as if to bring you even closer.

He knows he can't hold on much longer, the way you feel, the way you look riding him, your smell—god your pretty moans. It’s all too much. But he pushes down the rising tide, wanting to prolong this moment

His voice came out in a strained whisper, his grip tightening as he spoke. "I'm gonna cum soon. I want you to come right after me, yeah? Can you do that for me, Pumpkin?" He gently lifted your chin, locking eyes with you. His gaze searched your face, watching as your expression blurred with the overwhelming sensations.

Your mind felt hazy like everything was fading into a fog, too overwhelmed to form coherent thoughts. The pressure building inside you was almost unbearable—so huge, so intense, hitting you all in the right spots.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible, filled with a desperate need. "Yes, yes, I can do that... please, Sol, please..."

You could feel his desire building with you, like an unstoppable wave crashing over both of you. "Please, please, please..." You whispered it over and over, lost in the need for him, unable to say anything else.

Sol's eyes blaze with a renewed intensity, the plea in your voice driving him over the edge. His hands tighten on your hips, his body trembling with the effort of holding back.

"Pumpkin..." he pants, the words almost catching in his throat. "Pumpkin, I... I can't hold on much longer."

Your eyes are wild, and your body is trembling, every muscle tight and tense, “S-Sol, ah…” You laugh, breathy. The third time you cum is less intense than you thought. It’s a shorter wave, a softer sort of orgasm that seems to ease you more than it does anything else, more hazely and oversensitive.

But you can feel still his cock inside of you, how close he is, how close he’s been. Even still, you clench around his cock hard—getting so much wetter than you were a minute ago.

"Ah, f-fuck..." Sol growls, the sound catching in his throat. He's right on the brink now, his body straining with the effort of holding back. And then your muscles clench around him, the sensation enough to drive him over the edge.

"Looks like I have to catch up, hold on..." Sol moans, his voice a low, gutt, picking up your thighs, “Sol! Wait—what are—!!” He loses himself completely, slamming himself inside you rather rough and fast, his balls slapping against your cunt.

He wants more of you—all of you—after all, you can take more of his paint, you are his true canvas.

Finally giving into the sensation that’s been drowning him, He feels it in his entire lower body. Every atom of him finally catches up to the high of the release. It’s so intense when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out than heavy breaths. His eyes shoot open, then go back closed.

The coil in his stomach loosens more slowly at first than all at once, like a car crash. When Sol finally cums he sees nothing but white hearts in his vision. He can’t scream, can’t speak—so he holds onto you tight and finishes inside you, cock deeply buried inside of your pussy. So much cum spurts out of him, thick and hot painting your walls, so much in fact that it was leaking out of you, dripping down.

Sol tried his best to keep all of it inside of you, as it'd ruin his version. He didn’t even try to pull out, he rode out his orgasm with heart eyes, still fucking you slowly, wanting to keep all of himself—and cum, tucked deeply inside of you.

The sensation lingered long after the moment had passed. When Sol finally opened his eyes again, he found you collapsed against him—your body wrecked, spent, trembling from the overwhelming intensity.

You felt achingly sensitive, every nerve alive and raw, yet your mind remained a hazy blur, struggling to grasp onto anything, while your body felt heavy, as though you were floating just above the surface of consciousness. Everything was a gentle, blissful silence, a welcome respite from the chaos.

Just how long had it lasted? How many times had he brought you to the edge? The last time he counted, it was three, maybe more after what he pulled. He couldn’t be sure. The last clear memory he had was of you, twitching on top of him, your back pressed firmly against his chest, every part of you quaking from the intensity.

Sol took a slow, steadying breath, his own body still trembling from the exertion. He looked down at you, your limp form lying against him, completely drained. The exhaustion in your body was palpable, and in that moment, a part of him realized he’d pushed you farther than he’d intended.

“Pumpkin...” he whispered, his voice soft and concerned as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer into the warmth of his embrace.

“You did so good for me... You okay?” He waited, but you didn’t answer.

Your mind was still foggy, still trying to make sense of the world. Words felt distant, impossible to grasp and form into something coherent. Your body felt like it belonged to someone else—limp, exhausted, utterly spent.

A soft, unintelligible noise escaped your lips, a simple affirmation that you were still with him, still connected. It was enough to make him nuzzled you into his chest, his body instinctively seeking the comfort of his warmth of his wonderful creation.

Sol chuckled quietly, a playful smile tugging at his lips. He knew exactly what he’d done to you—how thoroughly he had worn you out—and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of quiet pride.

You were his, finally.

He gently played with your hair, twisting it with his fingers, his touch tender as he held you against him, giving you time to recover, knowing you needed it before you two could complete the art project that’s—he thinks that’s due tomorrow?

Oh well… if you don’t wake up in time he’ll complete it all for you.

“You’re adorable like this,” he murmured softly, his voice low and affectionate heart-shaped eyes, holding you tight against him, “All this... started from a simple brushstroke.”

· ─────── ⋆⋅ 🝣 ⋅⋆ ─────── ·

#tkatb sol #the kid at the back #the kid at the back sol #solivan brugmansia #Solivan Brugmansia #sol x reader #the kid at the back x reader #sol brugmansia #the kid at the back vn #tkatb vn #tkatb #tkatb smut

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rememberwren · 5 months ago

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A Dichotomy of Thought || 9

Previous/next chapters found here.

You and Johnny take a walk. CW: domestic abuse, panic attacks, dissociation, drug withdrawal, vomiting.

“Holy shit,” Jackie crows at the sight of you, her dark eyes huge and round like twin moons. One of her hands holds the rag she was using to wipe down the countertop of the bar and the other covers her mouth in a dainty expression of horror. “What happened to you?”

You shake your head, a silent plea not to ask any more questions. The bruises on your face still throb with your pulse, a painful reminder that you are alive when you’re not even sure if you want to be.

“Rooster’s gonna send you home,” says Jackie. “There’s no way you’ll get tips like this.”

“No he fucking won’t,” you say through your teeth. A day of not working means a day of no tips. A day of no tips means the stash of money in your locker remains stagnant. If there was one thing you had learned on Saturday, it’s that your time with your boyfriend is coming to an end, one way or another. Either he will kill you, or you will kill him, or will finally scrape together the means to leave.

You’ve got your eye on an apartment across town. One with copious natural lighting, one with a small but open floor plan. It would be more than enough for you. It would be everything.

Jackie sees the fire in your eyes—either that or you’ve gone and scared her—because she calls over Ruth to cover for you both and takes you into the break room, grabbing a bag of cosmetics out of her locker and doing her best to cover up your bruises. She gives you her jacket to cover the ones on your arms, the tiny circles caused by fingertips.

“Thanks,” you mutter, feeling like there’s something stuck in your throat.

“We gotta stick together,” she says, shrugging a shoulder. “I can’t work here alone. Not with just Ruth to talk to all day, and Rooster strutting around—“

“I know I didn’t just hear what I thought I heard,” a male voice says, the break room door flinging open and startling you both. Ruben stands there, his cowlick looking remarkably like a rooster’s comb. Your manager hates being called Rooster (which seems to make the problem all the worse), but the likeness is just too canny. “Why is Ruth out on the floor alone?”

“Girl stuff,” Jackie says with open malice. “You wanna hear about my monthly cycle, Ruben?”

He scowls, recoiling. “Just—wrap it up ladies. And wash your hands.”

“Jesus,” Jackie mutters once Rooster is gone and the door behind him is safely shut. “Men are so fucking weak.”

The bruises on your face throb at her words. Men feel pretty fucking strong to you.

“Yer outta yer mind if you think I’m eating that,” Johnny slurs, head in his hand where he sits slumped at the kitchen table. His entire body throbs, stomach wracked with nausea as he stares down at the eggs in front of him.

“You need to eat,” Simon says, firm and quiet. Just the sound of his voice makes tears fill Johnny’s eyes—but that’s all his eyes do these days. Water. It’s the withdrawal, he knows. It makes him feel like crawling out of his own skin would be a mercy, like he’s suffering from the worst flu he’s ever had: puking and shitting his guts out, body aches from hell, eyes and nose running constantly. Combine that with the tension with Simon and it’s like he’s living in a nightmare he can’t wake up from; except even in his worst dreams, Simon had never done something like this. Even in his worst dreams, Simon had been a hero to him.

“Can’t trust you,” Johnny mutters.

Simon reaches out, the motion a little too sudden and unexpected. Johnny flinches.

When Simon moves again, it is slower, with obvious purpose as he takes Johnny’s fork, spears a bite of his eggs, and brings it to his own mouth.

Somewhat mollified, Johnny picks up the fork and begins pushing the eggs around on his plate, just to make Simon shut up. Even if he knows the food isn’t poisoned, he still doesn’t have an appetite.

Then Simon sets a green pill beside his plate, and all it does is set Johnny off again.

“Get that away from me,” snarls Johnny.

“You can’t just quit cold turkey. They’re opioids, Johnny. It could kill you to stop.”

Fury swells up inside him, the edges of his vision bleeding black. Johnny shoves the half plate off of the table. It shatters against the linoleum, a sound which makes Simon flinch. For the moment, it satisfies Johnny’s need for control, his need for retribution. His need for violence. “I hope it does,” he grits out on a whim. “Don’t you pretend that you care.”

The table creaks under Simon’s weight as he places his palms against it and leans forward, his face stormy. “I fucking love you. Everything I ever do is because I love you so fucking much—“

“Oh, right,” Johnny scoffs.

“—yeah, right, I’ve been killing myself to keep you alive and safe and happy—“

“And you’ve been doin’ a shit job!” Johnny shouts, face reddening.

Simon goes quiet and stiff. Johnny doesn't believe for a moment that he’s gone too far. Simon is the one who went too far the moment he dumped the crushed oxycontin into Johnny’s juice. Everything else is fair game.

Before they discharged together, Johnny would have thought that Ghost’s face beneath the mask was just as stoic. Now he knows better, knows that Simon wore the mask to conceal a face which too often wore its emotions so plainly.

He looks sad. Angry. And for a moment Johnny thinks Simon might even hit him. It would be welcome, Johnny thinks. He would be glad to have a bruise to point to, to be able to say ‘Here is where you hurt me’ instead of all of his bruises being on the inside. But instead Simon just turns away and goes into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

After a moment, Johnny hears the balcony door open and shut too as Simon puts as much distance between them as physically possible.

Well, Johnny thinks, looking toward his slip on shoes. I can do you one better.

By the time you are clocking out, there is a message from Simon on your phone. Since poker night, there have been a few days of radio silence from the apartment next door—and you don’t even want to know the things they might have heard coming from your own apartment. You’ll be happy to see Johnny again, to know that Simon is getting to take a few brief minutes for himself, even if that’s all you can give him.

But when you open the message, your stomach drops: Johnny is missing. Have you seen him? sent nearly thirty minutes ago. You slam your locker shut, clenching the phone in your hand as you slip back out to the front of the restaurant, already bringing up the interface to call Simon, to hear what has happened and to find out how you can help.

It isn’t needed.

Johnny is sitting in the booth in the corner. Your heart swoops, takes your guts with it. You carefully make your way to his booth, noting the sweat on his forehead that he is mopping away with a napkin, noting the way his arm trembles. He looks thinner than ever. He looks sick.

He smiles at you.

“Are you off work? Did I catch you at the perfect time?” Johnny wonders.

“You did,” you say cautiously, slipping into the booth.

“Good. I want to take you somewhere.”

“Maybe we should go back to your apartment. Simon is pretty worried about you.”

Johnny’s face darkens, visible storm clouds rolling in. It makes your stomach turn over, anxious. “Simon doesn’t worry about anyone but himself.” He stands, shaking a little, and holds out his hand to you. Nothing else you can do, you take it, careful not to pull him over as you stand out of the booth.

The place Johnny takes you is a park nearby. It’s one that is handicap accessible, something which you’ve been taking notice of more and more often lately. The sidewalks are smooth and wide, the bathrooms are roomy, and there are plenty of benches (such as this one) for you and Johnny to sit down on when his leg aches from walking so far.

Your phone burns a hole in your pocket. The first thing you had done was text Simon that Johnny was with you and he was okay. You could feel the buzz of multiple messages, but you hadn’t brought the phone out yet to check them, not with Johnny’s focus on you. You could sense that Simon was a sore spot right now.

You didn’t want to make Johnny angry.

So the two of you sit on a bench in dappled sunlight, the sweat cooling on both of your bodies.

Johnny leans over and vomits.

“Jesus Christ,” you say, scooting close to him to rub at his back. “Are you alright?”

“Detoxin’,” he mutters, wiping the back of his mouth with a napkin he brought from the diner. “Don’t worry about it.”

You’re pretty fucking worried about it. Detoxing from what, you wonder, as Johnny sits up, leaning back heavily against the park bench, close enough that you can count his eyelashes. He takes several deep, steadying breaths, and you take the stolen moment to look at him. His jaw is sharper than ever, cheekbones sharp, circles beneath his eyes, but he is undoubtedly handsome. The thought startles you; you haven’t had such a thought about a man in years.

Johnny’s eyes open, blue as the sky, and rake over your face.

“Yer makeup job isn’t very good,” says Johnny at length.

Your heart skips a beat. You turn away and watch a woman pass with her dog, a shepherd. Wetting your lips, you can’t think of anything to say. Johnny’s hand appears out of the corner of your eye and you flinch away from the touch before taking note of the shape of his hand: open, with soft fingers meant to caress instead of hurt. Baffled by this gentle touch, you let him stroke his thumb along the shadow of a bruise visible beneath Jackie’s makeup. It makes you shiver, like a cold breeze has blown in.

“What was his excuse?” Johnny asks. “Or did he even have one?”

“What did Simon tell you?”

“Everything. Already suspected most of it. He beats on you, doesn’t he?”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” you mutter.

How long has it been since someone knew? No—not since someone knew. Since someone cared? Since someone confronted it head on and called it what it was? Jackie knew—she had to know—but other than taking the heat for you about some texts on your phone and helping you cover up the bruises, she never made any motions to acknowledge it. Your family had known, before they cut off contact with you for good, but they were terrible creatures in themselves.

You thought that maybe Simon had known, too.

People seemed to have a limited capacity for caring about others. Or maybe they just had a limited capacity for caring about you.

“I want to help you,” says Johnny, earnest.

You can’t help but look at him with suspicion. “Why?”

“Because it’s wrong, what he’s doin’,” says Johnny simply. “Because we’re supposed to cherish the people we love. Because no one deserves this, least of all you.”

Your hands work anxiously in your lap. He says the right things—but you’ve always been a sucker for pretty words.

“The last time a man wanted to help me escape a bad situation, it was so he could put me into a worse one,” you admit. Johnny’s face falls, hurt splashing across his features, and you feel it keenly, like it is your own. You’re quick to assure him: “I want to trust you.”

The rest remains unspoken: you don’t know if you can.

“The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them,” says Johnny with a wane smile.

“Hemingway said that.”

“Aye. You like to read?”

“Yes, but not Hemingway.”

Johnny laughs, a bright sound that has your mouth curling upward. Smiling isn’t unfamiliar to you, not when you must plaster one on all day to have any chance at all of making tips, but it’s been a while since it’s been genuine. Maybe that’s why it feels so strange. Maybe when it’s real, it uses different muscles.

“If you were going to help,” you begin cautiously, giving an awkward smile to an older couple as they shuffle by, pausing and waiting for them to be gone before you continue, “how would you do it? I’m…I’m in deep. He’s got videos.”

“Videos.” Johnny’s jaw has clenched tight, his eyes hard and cold.

“Of me.”

“Aye, I assumed. So he’s blackmailing you.”

You shrug a shoulder, eyes on your scuffed work shoes.

“What if I could make him disappear?” Johnny asks quietly.

You glance up. “How?”

It’s his turn to shrug, an expression of feigned indifference. A little smile tugs at his lips. “An accident. Any accident, really.”

You finally understand him, and at first you laugh, grin tugging at the bruises on your face until his own solemn expression barely changes, and then your laughter dies on your tongue.

“Johnny what the fuck,” you whisper. “You’re joking, right? I—Jesus Christ. I have to pretend that was a joke. You’re talking about murder, and—

—and I’m the first person they’d suspect!”

“That’s why it would have to look like an accident,” Johnny emphasizes.

“You’d be risking my freedom, my life—“

“I’d never let you take the fall—“

“Then you’re putting your own life at risk—why would you—fuck you don’t even know me!”

Johnny’s face goes red and he says nothing. Your teeth click shut with how fast you shut your mouth. You’re embarrassing him, making him angry—that much is clear. Maybe he expects you to be grateful, (and there is a part of you, small, which is flattered, as nonsensical as it is), but mostly all you are is scared shitless.

Johnny talks about killing the way most people talk about getting lunch.

“I forget that you don’t know about our past,” Johnny says, seeming to shrink into himself as he leans back against the bench, running a hand through his mohawk. “Simon n’ me. We’re ex-military. I don’t even want to guess at our combined body count. I—lass. I’m scaring you.”

“No,” you lie soothingly. Your hands clench together to keep them from shaking and giving you away. “No, no—I’m fine, I just remembered, I was supposed to give Jackie some gas money. She gave me a ride the other day. I should probably go—“

“I’d never hurt you, I swear it,” says Johnny fervently, sitting up tall. He reaches for your hand and you want to scream but you go limp instead, like a rabbit caught in a dog’s jaws, playing dead. He takes your hand and pets it softly. You barely feel it, mind far away.

“It’s okay,” you soothe him emptily, hoping to placate him enough to get away. “I’m fine, I promise.”

Johnny seems to realize what you’re doing. He gently lays your hand back in your lap.

He says, quiet: “I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot.”

You can’t talk anymore, shell-shocked, terrified. There was a time when you were good at this: good at appeasing the beasts inside men. You could soothe your boyfriend’s bad mood in a heartbeat with just a touch or a few words. But over time it had become more and more difficult, and you had become more and more afraid. Now no matter how hard you try, your efforts feel stunted and lame.

Johnny is talking, low voice rushing over you like the current of a warm river.

“—in public, aye? Would be a fool to hurt you here, wouldn’t I?” he asks, voice soft. He has moved to the far end of the bench until a gaping chasm rests between you both, one you are grateful for. It gives you the space to breathe, your chest throbbing. “All these people around—someone would stop me. You’re safe, lass. Take a breath fer me. Aye, and another—good girl, that’s it. Doing so well. Strong one, aren’t you?”

“Shut up,” you croak, feeling uncomfortably tethered to your own body, to the burning of your eyes. You reach up and wipe at them before the tears can fall. Beside you, Johnny sits quietly. Several minutes pass, and each person who walks by the bench seems to bring you more and more security, until you are safe enough to feel silly and embarrassed by your own overreaction. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Don’t be sorry,” says Johnny. “It was my fault. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I won’t…I won’t bring that up again. I guess it’s pretty stupid. Simon’s been telling me so all along.”

“Are you two fighting?”

Johnny snorts. “You could say that. He did something…something terrible. I don’t know how to trust him anymore.”

“Do you still want to trust him?”

“Aye,” says Johnny, voice nearly carried away by the breeze. “In the service, I trusted him with anything. Everything. My whole miserable life. Never wanted that to change.”

“Someone once reminded me that the best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them,” you say.

“Sounds like a fucking cunt.”

“Hemingway or you?”

“Both.”

You have just relaxed back onto the bench, tilting your face toward the sun to offer it another one of your rare smiles when a shadow falls over the two of you both.

#ghoap x reader #dichotomy of thought

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janovavalen · 1 year ago

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✧when social media calls so does the questions || walker scobell x fem!reader

summary: after fans have created more and more of a scene with y/n l/n and walker scobell they are asked about it in their first interview together.

warning: friendly reminder the people/faces i use are just for the aesthetic ofc imagine it’s you bc we’re on that level of delulu<3

as they day went by y/n sat in her hotel room with her dressers, makeup and nail artist all around . this was probably one thing y/n enjoyed about being who she was and doing what she did.

she got to say there while people made her look pretty at the amazing work they did on her. however, though some of the dresses and suits she had to wear were sometimes out of the ordinary or just tight in general, they always made sure to capture her natural color and make her outfits look beautiful on her.

today y/n would be getting interviewed after she got ready—so was aryan, leah and walker of course. she was beyond nervous, exited? but definitely mostly nervous. she hated when she had to sit in front of a camera—well, it came more naturally when she was acting because she wasn’t really being herself.

but when it came to being interviewed, she was half of the time being told what to say, monitored at all times and some other genuine answers were cut out. she guessed it would probably be more dramatic for the audience and the interviewer.

‘miss. l/n, your being called’ one of her managers called out to her as she was just getting her last piece of clothing on.

‘oh—okay!’ she called back. as her stylist got her finished up and ready she smiled and thanked everyone who gave her a huge smile back while they waved her goodbye.

but before she could leave, she obviously had to take some pictures.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

the second y/n stepped out of her hotel room was as if on the sam strike as the rest of her friends. aryan, leah and walker came out of their separate room with their outfits on.

leah wore a beautiful dress and her afro, aryan wore a simple green shirt and black pants and walker wearing a black jacket with dark blue jeans.

‘okay why is it only me and leah going all out for these outfits?’ y/n placed her hands out motioning to the fact the boys were dressed as if they were going out on a casual walk and y/n and leah to the met gala.

‘well…talk to my styalist with that because i can’t give you an answer’ aryan commented with a smile as y/n laughed a bit. holding her phone in her hand along with her purse.

walker had subconsciously found himself waiting for her to walk beside him which didn’t go unnoticed by aryan and leah.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

as the group walked outside was then the lights began flashing in a hurry. the dark sky around them already causing enough ruckus to other people trying to sleep in the hotel, y/n and the group has stopped to give the crowd what they want.

their pictures.

as they did y/n and walker stood arm to arm. him holding the back of his hand along the back half of her back.

while they smiled, waved, posed and did some silly things out of habit. they finally seen their car was ready, signaling it was time to go, so they all began to walk.

but as y/n did she had felt her shoe get caught on something causing her to stop for a second, walker behind somehow able to feel her presence stopped immediately and looked down to her shoe.

‘oh—wait i got it it’s okay—‘

‘no wait let me help’ walker pulled back and leaned down on his knee to see her heel was stuck on the vent of the ground outside. once he got it out someone yelled—‘it’s like a real life cinderella story!’ causing the crowed to awh and flash their cameras faster.

y/n placed her hand over her mouth and nervously laughed as did walker who placed his hand back against her back and let it hold there as they walked.

when they got in the car they immediately sighed of relief from the outside media not being able to get as good pictures but still tired of course.

‘i don’t think ill ever get over this—the lights might be the cause of me going blind to be honest’ leah mumbled while holding her head in her hands, enjoying the heat of the car in this time of day which was a bit cold outside.

‘yeah, i think we should i hide all night and only take pictures in the day or something so they don’t use pictures’

‘that just gives me even more the reason to stay home, so i’m going along with that plan’ y/n smiled at aryan who laughed.

as they drove to their destination, they all had to take pictures and of course videos for their spam’s and personal cameras rolls for memory’s.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

when they arrived to their interview destination, the four of them sat in their chairs.

leah and y/n sat next to each other. walker and scobell seated next to each other—so the order being leah, y/n, walker, and aryan.

‘okay, are you guys ready?’ the interviewer asked with a warm smile, they all nodded their heads and y/n gave a nervous thumbs up as she smiled making walker laugh.

‘okay, we’re on in—3,2,1–‘

looking a bit over at the camera pointed towards her she started—‘hello my name is racheal james and i am here with—‘

‘leah jeffries’ she smiled

‘y/n l/n’ she nervously twisted with her hands—

‘walker scobell’ who gave a smile and soon—‘aryan simhardi’ who waved to the camera.

‘hi! hello, welcome hope things went well as you got here?’

‘uh yeah—y’know, paparazzi, yelling, lights—it went amazing’ walker looked at the racheal who laughed, y/n smiled a bit while she touched a bit of her face as leah and aryan laughed a bit.

‘as usual, as usual—so! i have been dying to ask, how did you guys all get along when you were casted for percy jackson?’

‘uhm, we did pretty good? i mean i came in a bit late since my character doesn’t show up till episode four so i got a bit more time to pack at home but y’know, i think i get along with them amazingly’

‘yeah—i mean, when we all met y/n she was very warm and an inviting person, every funny and so energetic i just love her presence’ walker told while looking at y/n who warmly smiled and placed her hand over her mouth.

‘okay! the two of them!? i can’t! they always do this! it’s constant—‘ leah pointed at the two as she yelled and laughed making y/n and walker nervously laugh.

‘that’s what i was going to say! is it always like that?’ racheal smiled at them.

‘oh my—yes! all the time. on set, at dinner, hang outs—anywhere!’ aryan commented while y/n shook her head with a eye roll and walked just smiled, his face red.

‘okay but wait—so, as you all know, the comments on instagram are going insane over walker and y/n i wanted to ask how do you two feel about it? is it uncomfortable? is it truth or just fans being fans?’

‘uhm….i wouldn’t call them fans just more of very distant friends and family? but im not uncomfortable with it all all—‘

‘yeah no i’m not either, it’s kinda funny and amusing to see everyone piece things together more than some do in the show’ walker shrugged as y/n laughed.

‘ou? so, are you denying or backing up on the rumors that the famous (c/n) and percy jackson may be lovers outside of percy jackson?’

leah immediately looked at aryan who’s eyes snapped to walker and y/n.

the two of them nervously touched their faces while shrugging—‘i—um?’

‘yeah, so…y’know?’ the lot laughed as they watched the two teens nervously try to figure out what to say.

‘okay! i’m sorry i’m sorry to make you uncomfortable! let’s just move onto the next question yeah?’ she smiled while flipping through papers.

y/n placed her hand over her face and sighed deeply to calm herself as for walker who looked at her with a smile and a red warm face.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

about a couple hours later when the interview was done y/n and walker decided to split from the group who had happened to all want to go out to dinner just to hang out.

walker badly wanted to be with y/n but not when she was occupied with the other group, so he pulled her away from the group for a little bit just to talk which y/n didn’t mind in the slightest.

the two of them were standing on the sidewalk as they talked and laughed together.

‘when she asked what was going on in the comments i’m not going to lie i kind of freaked out like i was like—dude what the hell do i say? what do i do?’ walker revealed as he sheepishly moved a bit closer to y/n who did as well.

‘oh my god—same, i was so nervous i didn’t know what i was going to day next to try and recover from that’ she laughed as walker nodded his head in agreement while he placed a small hand on her arm which she didn’t take note of.

after a laugher died down a bit, the two of them stood in a bit of silence as they felt the cold air breeze past them. since y/n wore a outfit that had no jacket, walker had given her his jacket back at the restaurant after seeing cold chills on her arm.

as y/n held her arms with the jacket getting warmer, walker couldn’t held but admire how pretty she looked under the yellow light of the street pole next to them.

‘you looked really pretty’ he smiled as she placed a hand over her mouth to smile widely before placing it back down to her side.

‘thank you…your not too bad yourself’ she teased as he faked a gasp making her laugh. this only prompted him to go after her with his arms around her shoulders as she laughed out loud while he moved their bodies to the side aggressively.

her face being mashed between chest and arm.

‘oh my god! my makeup!’ she cried out with a laugh as he completely ignored her with his own laughter.

once they were done moving he leaned down to give her a kiss on her cheek making the both of them grow warm and red. she smiled deeply while placing her arms around his waist. the two of them embracing each other in the dead of night.

yourinstagram

liked by dior.n.goodjohn, leahavajeffries, aryansimhardi , yourmom and others

yourinstagram if you guys don’t know…i’m literally terrified of doing almost anything thanks to final destination

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dior.n.goodjohn dude imagine the cars just blowing up out of nowhere while you guys were driving it…

↳ yourinstagram I WAS IMAGINING THAT THE WHOLE TIME WHILE WALKER JUST LAUGHED LIKE WHATS FUNNY?

↳ walker.scobell IT WAS FUNNY BC U WERE CRYING 😭!?

↳ yourinstagram that was supposed to stay between us.😒

↳ walker.scobell oh.

iamcharliebushnell that’s insane you thought that while driving the whole time

↳ leahsavajeffries i would’ve just got off at that point 😭

↳ walker.scobell oh trust she tried but i didn’t let her leave me on there alone after i paid for that

user282 AHHH MORE WALKER AND Y/N CONTENT<33333

user200 they’re hand feeding us at this point bc omg😭

user1011 i literally love them sm—DID YALL SEE THOES PAPARAZZI PICS OF THEN CUDDLED UP OUTSIDE???

↳ yourinstagram PAPARAZZI PICS?

walker.scobell

liked by yourinstagram, leahsavajeffries, dior.n.goodjohn, aryansimhardi and others

walker.scobell i think y/n enjoys my phone more than her own phone

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yourinstagram i enjoy your phone bc u have storage 🧍🏽‍♀️

↳ walker.scobell OUUUU so just take all mine? got it got it

↳ yourinstagram DONT ACT FUNNY ON HERE BC U TOLD ME TOO U TOLD ME IT WAS OKAY!?

↳ walker.scobell *gulps*

dior.n.goodjohn LOOK AT MY CHILDRENNNNB OMG

iamcharliebushnell they grow up so fast☹️

↳ walker.scobell why r u guys acting like your nearing your eighties

user111 LOOK AT THEMMMNM OMG GGOGMGMGMGMGM

user1034 they’re cuties

user77 i can’t believe they’re actually together like someone don’t pinch me if this is a dream i don’t wanna wake up from it

↳ yourinstagram awh😭?

↳ walker.scobell okay this is adorable though

walker.scobell

liked by walker.scobell, dior.goodjohn, iamcharliebushnell and others

walker.scobell no comment

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dior.n.goodjohn GET THHHHHHHHHHHH SHHHHH OUT PF HERE OMG

iamcharliebushnell okay but how many times have they hung out without us is the real question

leahsavajeffries alright yall not to much

↳ walker.scobell HUH😭

yourmom i’m so happy you make her happy☺️

↳ walker.scobell awh mrs.l/n

↳ yourinstagram awh mom STOP☹️

yourinstagram that busted up camera ain’t give no promises

↳ walker.scobell that’s what happens when you drop it like thirty times…

user11000 LOOK AT THEM GUYSSSSSS AHHHH

user220 i’m so happy i shipped them the second i saw them on screen together and irl

user1479 the fact they are literally two half’s of a whole is proof soulmates are real

taglist: @callsignwidow

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy pjo #percy series #grover underwood #walker scobell

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barleyo · 7 months ago

Text

Rural Bliss.

Real Dad! Leon X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: You, as a reader, are responsible for your own media consumption. It is up to you to read the tags that I have provided and determine whether or not this is a piece of writing that you would like to partake in. If not, scroll on by, if you do, please enjoy! Remember, I am not responsible for any discomfort you feel if you choose to read this.

Tags: incest (daddy-daughter), dub-con, oral (f receiving), LARGE AGE GAP (18 and 40+), pwp (light plot), mentions of predatory behavior, mutual creepiness, dark and disturbing content, choppy ass writing

Wordcount: 1.8k

!!! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT/DARK CONTENT !!!

Your mom had finally done it. She found a halfway decent guy and let him wife her up faster than you could say 'I do.' You weren't exactly mad about it. He was a decent enough guy, and he made your mom happy, so whatever. The only part that you were against was the fact that you would be staying with your estranged father for the rest of your summer until your mom and her boy-toy got back from their extensive honeymoon.

Your dad fucked off pretty quickly after you were born. Moved himself far away into the middle of nowhere, not once reaching out or keeping in touch. A small part of you wanted to know him, but a larger part of you was pissed that you would have to now temporarily live with a man who you could just barely remember the name of.

What was it again? Leonard? Lucas? No, no, that's not right. Leon? Yeah, something like that. Leon.

Leon, the man who left you and your mom. The man who, instead of raising you, decided to lick his wounds in the deep country, likely making a meager living off of growing potatoes and carrots. The man who was a stranger, connected to you only by blood.

The man whose front porch you were currently standing on, banging on his door without a care in the world. You looked around while you knocked. It was a large bit of land. A few neighbors nearby, but not within spitting distance. At the very least, this town had a few stores with maybe a few people your age lingering around them.

"I'm coming, damn it!" His steps were loud, you could hear them from all the way outside. The heaviness of his work boots must've weighed him down quite a bit. The screen door flew open and his face softened. "Oh, hey kid. Didn't know you'd be here so early. Come in."

You followed him inside, letting your eyes trail his face and frame. You'd only seen a picture or two of him before. He wasn't quite what you were expecting. He looked a lot older now than he did in the photos. More tired, less lively. His crow's feet and smile lines stuck out, but if the lonely, uncomfortable vibe of his house was any clue, you assumed he hadn't been smiling much in his life.

He wasn't bad looking, though. Time hasn't weathered him, and you could tell he took care of himself. His arms and chest looked strong, clearly he had found some way to stay fit out in his desolate chunk of farmer-country. You could see why your mom picked him. He looked like a good one, despite his fleeting nature.

"You're gonna be stayin' for a few months, yeah?" Leon didn't seem uncomfortable with your presence, so you felt a bit more calm.

"Yeah, I guess so. Mom didn't really give me all the details, just kinda sprung it on me."

"Believe me, I know," he said under his breath. "Well, this place isn't much, 'm sure it's not what you're used to." He locked the door behind you and flashed an apologetic look.

"It's fine. I'll make it work." You looked around. It looked lived in, strangely worn despite nobody else ever living there.

He led you down a dimly lit hallway, the floorboards groaning beneath their weight, until they reached a single room. It was a small bedroom, adorned with faded wallpaper and completely wooden furniture. The single window offered a glimpse of the bare, green landscape outside.

"This'll be your room. You can unpack your things."

Hardly a week passed by and you were already sick to death of living with your dad. His jokes were bad. His cooking was shit. His attempts at bonding with you were creepy at best and damn near-assault at worst. He let his hands drift all over you when he pulled you in for hugs and tried pecking a kiss on your mouth before you went off to bed each night, and damn it, you let him.

Again and again, every night, letting that old man press his chapped lips against yours, holding back your urge to force your tongue into his mouth.

He bought you gifts that no other fathers would think about getting their daughters. Skimpy little clothes that left nothing to the imagination, while he wrote it off by claiming ignorance.

"That's what girls your age wear, right? I can't keep up with what you kids are into," Leon would say, covering his ass with feigned dopiness.

His only redeeming quality was that he was hot and mostly oblivious. It was fucked up to think about it that way, but without having much other male contact during your stay, Leon was starting to becoming quite the piece of eye candy. The best part is that he thought nothing of it, acting like his teenaged daughter spending hours staring at his half-naked, sweaty body while he worked in the hot sun was normal. Just another day. Nothing special.

He didn't make you work on the farm with him, so you got to do all the watching. You got to see those strong arms lift hay bales for the horses and chop trees for firewood. Most of your days were spent watching him from the front porch, mentally cursing yourself out when you felt your thighs clench together instinctually at his sexy movements.

What was wrong with you?

Were years of fatherlessness finally catching up to you? Couldn't muster any real love for the old man, so sexual yearning was the next best thing? Eye-fucking your dad and sharing touches that lasted too long were the cost of him skipping out on you.

You rationalized it the best you could. Maybe you didn't actually want him, maybe the solitude of the countryside was getting to you. Maybe there was something in the air, some kind of sex-pollen floating in the breeze that made you wanna get bent over by a man twice your age that just so happened to be related to you. Closely related.

Leon didn't really know how to treat a woman well, but he tried his best with you. It was his first time really being a dad, but honestly, he hated it. Being a 'dad' sucked, especially when he'd rather have his daughter as his girlfriend.

You made him so frustrated, so unsure of himself. Leon's only experience with girl's your age was in getting them liquor they couldn't legally buy themselves, fucking them like plastic sex dolls, and leaving them for someone else to woo and screw.

He couldn't quite do that to you, though. He couldn't get you drunk and take advantage of you, pumping and dumping in you without a care about your pleasure. He had to take care of you, your health and comfort. All he really wanted was to take care of your body.

You were his little girl. He'd fuck you like he actually gave a damn about you if he ever got the chance, and he most definitely wouldn't be leaving you for anyone else.

That type of thinking brought him here.

"Daddy, please..."

The walls in his house were too damn thin. He could practically hear each thrust of your fingers into your cunt from his bedroom. Your bed screeched agonizingly against the floors, punctuating your moans and hisses of pleasure.

He saw his opportunity and took it. He had waited long enough, and this was the least he could do, right? You needed him, right? Right.

He pushed your door open, not having the decency nor the self-restraint to knock. You felt your body go still, but kept your hands between your legs.

"If you needed me, coulda told me. Don't like t'hear you in here whining." Leon sat on the edge of your bed, crawling his way between your legs. "Fuck, that's pretty."

He took in the sight of your fingers stuffed into your pudgy cunt, slick dripping between each digit.

"No, you're—! this isn't what it—" you tried prying your fingers out, but a strong hand wrapped around your wrist to keep you in place.

"Isn't what it looks like? How about what it sounds like, huh? Sounds like you want your daddy to dull that ache in you."

He was so far gone. He normally never did this. Leon was a man who took. He took younger girls virginity, mouth, pussy, or other. He was the one that got sucked off and got his perv dick wet. But for his baby? You, the little nymph who fell gracefully into his grasp? He was foaming at the mouth for a chance to slurp your pussy.

"Open up, come on. Got nothin' to be shy about," he urged, forcing your legs open, pulling your fingers out, and shimmying closer to you. "Nothin' I haven't seen before."

That was somewhat of a lie. Sure, he saw pussies all the time when he bullied his cock into them, but he was normally never nose to clit, ready to lick.

He stuck his needy tongue out, lapping up the juices that you worked up when you rubbed yourself raw. He swirled around you clit as a test, trying to see what felt good for you. He soon settled on puckering his lips around your bud and sucking, swapping his spit in and out of his mouth to keep you lubed up.

Your voice broke with hushed whines and chants. Yes's and oh's rang out, filling Leon's ears and his ego.

He pulled his head back and lob a wad of spit onto your clit, chuckling when you shivered.

"Feel good?" His thumb traced your clit in little figure eights.

"Mm, s'good." Your hands trailed through his thick, soft hair. You gripped it tightly, pulling his head back to your cunt. "No, don't stop, jus' need your mouth again."

His sharp, strong nose bumped against the top of your pussy while he munched down on you greedily. His tongue traveled around you in an indecisive manner. One moment, he was using flat strokes to lick on your swollen nub, then pointing his tongue while he fucked it in and out of you.

Despite the sporadic nature of it, the warmth and wetness of the contact of his mouth on you felt like heaven. It didn't matter what he was doing, as long as he was looking up at you with his piercing eyes and swallowing down your slick, you were satisfied.

"Dad, oh my God, yes!" It felt like venom coming off of your tongue when you moaned it, but tasted like honey at the same time. Something about it was so wrong, but felt so natural.

As your legs tightened around Leon's head and trapped him between your thighs, you knew it was meant to be. You were meant to be your daddy's princess. You were meant to feel like mouth on you, to be spoiled by his tongue, words, money, and his cock. You had been missing out on it for so long.

You spent the rest of your summer making up for lost time, discovering just what having a daddy was meant to feel like.

#smutfic #leon s kennedy x reader #cw incest #tw inc*st #dark content #dead dove fic #resident evil x reader #resident evil #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy #resident evil smut #resident evil x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x you

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sanjisprincesss · 8 months ago

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I could fall in love with you

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Synopsis: How I think the one piece men would realize they’ve got it bad for you!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Characters: Monsters trio x fem! Reader

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･cw: fluff fluff and more fluff! Sort of proofread

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ song credit: I could fall in love by Selena

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LUFFY

Realized when he started to feel even more clingy towards you.

With Luffy it’s a matter of whether or not he realizes or someone around him realizes. The minute he realizes he doesn’t hold back on his feelings and tells you immediately.

He realizes when he starts to feel a s way when Sanji or anyone grazes at you in any other way then friendly. Which is a feeling he never really felt since in any other situation he wouldn’t care about if someone flirts or flaunts over you.

He starts to crave your attention and presence more and everyone around him will most likely notice.

You and Luffy sit on top of the head of the thousand sunny pointing out clouds shapes making stories and backgrounds to them. Watching the sunset a beautiful ray of colors and scenery cover the sky.

“Shishi that one looks like a sea cow doesn’t Y/N!” Your captain said pointing and laughing at a cloud that strangely resembled a giant sea creature. You look to where he’s pointing to see the cloud he’s mentioning. You can’t help but smile and laugh at the remembrance. “ yeah it does look like a sea cow Luffy!”

As the laughter begins to die down, Luffy with an unreadable expression turns to face you without saying a word. As you turn to face him his famous smile returns to his face “Y/N i love you so much! You know that right!”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ZORO

Realized when he got a little too overprotective of you even more than he’s willing to admit.

First of all, as soon as he gets the slightest hint that he’s head over heels in love with you he’s denying it and will try to deny it as much as he is possibly able to. DENIAL IS A RIVER IN EGYPT.

Which is also why he wouldn’t confess first.

Zoro is known for being the protector of the strawhat pirates, by nature he has his hand on his swords the minute the crew is In danger. It's not that he is more protective towards you than the crew, it's more like he’s more protective of you towards others that have pertenal feelings towards you. Which once again is not really his main train of thought yk.

Of course he would never admit, but he likes to have your company near him. May it be you reading a book in the crows nest while he trains or just being near him while he’s napping.

As the sun shines on the sea and everything in its path. You Nami and Robin were sunbathing on the deck as Sanji came by with fresh drinks for the three of us. Luffy Chopper and Usopp playing around the ship while laughing with zoro training in the crows nest.

“NAMI SWANN~ Y/N CHANN~ ROBIN DEARR~ I'VE MADE YOU LOVELY LADIES SOME REFRESHING BEVERAGES! SO BEAUTIFUL I COULD JUST MELT!”

He says with hearts in his eyes placing the drinks down on a table and hanging them out one by one.

“Aye, curly brows give em a break will ya!”

And that Is all you hear form the green haired swordsman before you and your friends share a knowing glare before smiling towards which other.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ SANJI

Realized he loves you differently than he would other women…

Let’s state the obvious: Sanji loves women. It’s a known fact about him. He has felt infatuation before to the point where he thought he was in love. That infatuation died down when he found another woman who crossed his path.

But with you it’s different. His infatuation turns into something that lasts. It doesn’t fade away when someone else is around him. He lowkey turns into Mr prince.

He goes that extra mile. He’s a gentleman all around and it’s really hot. He can have a conversation with you without any kind of questionable behavior or nosebleeds. No lustful stares of any sort, no signs of dirty thoughts, just quality time with his lover.

The crew had all departed ways to follow their regular duties and routines after dinner. However you stayed after dinner to help Sanji with the kitchen while of course he always insisted that there was no need for you to worry your pretty little head.

You always insisted on helping and how could he ever say no to you. So there you two are, wasting and drying dishes. One by one.

“ I wonder what different types of fish and seasonings are in the all blue?” “What color do you think the water is there?” You ask him while drying a plate. As he passes the next dish that needs to be dried.

“The all blue hm…you know just what to ask me, don’t you? A beautiful girl like you deserves a gorgeous answer.. don’t you think?” You nod while putting the last dish away.

“Let’s see..if I had to think of a color, one that matched the idea of all the world's fish swimming together.. I’d say sky blue. A brilliant sky blue it has to be!”

#STARS WORK ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩#one piece x reader #op x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #luffy x black reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x black reader #sanji x black reader #sanji x reader #black leg sanji #black reader #opla x reader #op x you #one piece

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justliketoreadsowhat · 6 months ago

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Lucky Catch ☆

⚠︎︎; 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞

𝐚/𝐧; 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐈 𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫. 𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲!

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Out Of All The Games You Chose To Go To This One?"

Your mind swiveled with 2nd thoughts as you sat way up in the nosebleeds, hopelessly watching one of your favorite player Nika Muhl sit on the bench for yet another game.

After spending endless nights contemplating on catching a flight down to Seattle, you finally gave in to your impulseive thoughts and went for it.

It was fitting that you bring along your best friend Ella for moral support, although she was never quite as interested in sports, she would never turn down supporting your passions. Even if that meant flying half way across the states to see your girl keep the bench warm.

A sigh escaped your lips "At least we're winning" Barely. "Maybe we should start moving down to the floor to catch some autographs" In the back of your mind, you knew there was a slim catch of getting on all the action, but nevertheless you were determined to leave here with something other than countless pictures and videos.

"No- we can't leave just yet, they're about to do the t-shirt toss!!" her hands pointing at the jumbotron that displayed a huge countdown with less than 2 minutes remaining on the clock.

This scene was all too familair to you, the cheerleaders come out dancing, grab a handful of t shirts and throw them about 5ft into the front crowd.

It was pointless.

"Please be so for real right now, There's no way those t-shirts are coming our way when we are all the way up here" Your eyes glanced down to examine the depth of how high up the two of you were "We're better off overpaying for a shirt at the concession stands".

You began to gather all your belongings and the nachos that were now cold. Standing up to your feet the crow noise suddenly erupted in the arena. Frantically you scanned your surroundings, eyeing the jumbotron your eyes grew wide.

This was most definitely a life or death situation.

The gold and green lights grew dim as the jumbrotron screen grew impossibly brighter as no other than Paige Bueckers stood before the sold put crowd, smiling and waving gracefully as she clutched a t-shirt in her dominant hand.

"I told you we needed to stay for the toss" she jarred, urgency more prominent than ever before. "Lock in for me because it looks like she's throwing it this way"

How could anyone see from this far up anyways?

Before you could squint to see from down below, an impact struck you right in the shoulder. Your reflexes quickily reacted, catching the object before it hit the ground.

You caught it. The crowds attention glued to your seats in disbelief

Shit.

"She threw that like her life depending on it, come on y/n don't just stand there!" Shock was taking over your body. "We gotta get down there to see her"

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

"Did you see who caught that?"

"No not really, but what I did see was you chucking the t-shirt way over yander" Evina laughed, playfully nudging Paige in her side.

"imma professional what can I say?" her hands positioned together ready to initiate her rizz hands for the 10th time tonight.

"Put. Them. Down." she groaned rubbing her temples. "It's bad enough you got all of those girls screaming your name with every step you take".

"Mm.. you sound like a hater"

"And you sound like you'll be catching an uber home by yourself"

"Alright Alright not too much now" Paige jolting her hands up in self defense, Evina quickly smacking them down.

"Please look like we like each other because I think we found your lucky catch" pointing in the direction of the two girls being accompanied by one of the many security guards.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Damn she's way taller in person" you muttered to your best friend, only to find her walking away from you, leaving you to fein for yourself in the heat of the moment.

The grip you had on the shirt tightened as you got closer to her. "That was a tough catch" she beamed, her blue eyes sparkkling with glint.

Drop Dead Gorgeous is all that ran through your mind. Her blonde hair slicked back perfectly, not a hair our of place as her earrings sparkled with every turn of her head, as her tucked chain mirrored the same action. Envision of how nice it would look dangling in your face.

"Why thank you" you smiled warmly "You definitely threw a cannon" glancing down at her large hands that had veins spread all throughout like wildfire. Her laugh echoed throughout your body causing small goose bumps to form.

"I'm just happy you caught it because I for sure thought it was gonna hit that beautiful face of yours" her hand gently grazing over your chin.

The feeling of your heart fluttering off rhythm was enough to make you fold in front of everyone, including the cameras who began to swarm the two of you, bright flashes evaded every corner.

You prepared to see this moment plastered on your timeline, yet nobody could prepare you for the cost that came with it.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #paige x reader #fanfic

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absolutebl · 14 days ago

Text

2024 BL - Top 10 Trend Report

In last year's trend report I said:

"I think Taiwan has the chops to give us something as good as The 8th Sense or Old Fashion Cupcake but in their style, and I would like to see them exercise their talent for good rather than just profit."

And Unknown happened.

I asked for it, they gave it to me. I could not be more happy. So anyway, I just wanted to crow a bit.

And now...

2024's TRENDS!

1 Trope Subversion Levels Up

My Stand In went so far as to subvert the whole damn romance genre. But in general we saw a lot of BL recognizing, highlighting and calling out it's own absurdities and tropes. From Korea commenting on the Dead Fish Kiss to Wandee Gooodday actually promoting green flag behavior (the real deal).

It was an interesting year for meta commentary, it kind of whole scale left parody behind (say goodbye, Japan) and entered almost every BL from Thailand, even the ones who should have left it alone. (Side eyes Mame.)

2 Old Tropes Revisited

Unknown revisited the step-brother trope (as did Addicted Heroin of course). But there were other old ones we haven't seen in ages, like kidnapping for love, kissing on rooftops, and all the dub con (Blossom). Love Sick rebooted with very little modernization (except where it counted) right up to and including no kisses. Mix Up even did "trapped on the rooftop" which I haven't seen in over a decade.

And then Wimpy dropped. And it felt like I was reading yaoi in my tiny attic bedroom in the 90s.

3 BL Enters All the Workplaces

I love how many adult leads and sides we are getting, even from Thailand. By which I mean, BL outside of a school setting. We still have high school and university set stuff, but that used to be ALL we got. I don't mind school settings, but I like that we have some kind of balance going on these days.

We are starting to get not just cubicles and offices (as Japan foretold) but all kinds of workplaces from retail to authors to the film industry.

4 BL Passes the Sniff Test

He smells good has always been a trope that I love. It was one of my favorite things about Bad Buddy. But this year it felt like every third BL trotted this one out. I was delighted by it. Of course I was. But it happened A LOT.

Century of Love was a key use of it since smell is so coupled to memory, I thought they dealt with it particularly well. But even Japan and Korea deployed the sniff test.

(Seoul Blues)

(Blue Boys) Same actors, different characters.

Pitt Babe

Century of Love

Meet You at the Blossom

Soul Blues

Blue Boys

Dangerous Romance

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans

Cosmetic Playlover

Sunset X Vibes

Monster Next Door

Secret Love

Perfect 10 Liners (technically a 2025 show, but the sniff happened in 2024)

5 Fewer Shipper Characters within BL

Negative trends are always harder to call (it's easier to track the presence of something over the absence) but I'm still calling this one.

In a discussion of The Shipper @heretherebedork and I got into a discussion about this. It really seems like both we are getting less "female shipper" characters and/or they are evolving into overly interested but very supportive female friends instead. Softening, if you will.

I think partly this is because there has been a general decline in this archetype in yaoi over the past 5-10 years, but also they tend to incur pretty bad reactions in fans, and Thailand (especially) tends to pay attention to that kind of thing.

Unfortunately this also means we are seeing a worsening of the "no female representation at all" backbone of BL. We Are, which I loved, didn't have a single female character. Not even a throw away.

6 The rise of the green flag seme!

The seme (active attacker in the relationship) got a lot of green flag action this year. We saw lots of Dommy boys, Daddy types, and players asking for permission, trying to communicate, talking about safe sex. Particularly out of Thailand.

To make sure this is clear, green flag means he communicates about the relationship and sex, takes no for an answer, asks for permission for (almost) everything, and doesn't do things like (just spitballing here) take a hotel room key and go into the other mans private room when he's not around (or asleep). Okay? Christ on a cracker. (When it comes to flags Mame has red/green colorblindness.)

Some examples:

Alan from Pit Babe

God from Monster Next Door (except for the one journal reading incident)

Sun from Sunset X Vibes (almost too far)

Yak from Wandee Goodday

Latte from Knock Knock Boys

7 Japan Came to PLAY

Japan came to play and will not leave the field that they built. I may not always like JBL, but when I love it, I REALLY LOVE IT, and when it hits it hit hard (pain or joy). And even when I don't like it, it always gives me a lot to think about.

We had 19 JBLs in 2024:

Sahara-sensei to Toki-kun

At 25:00, in Alaska

Dominant Yakuza and Wimpy Corporate Slave

I Became the Main Role of a BL

Love in the Air: Koi no Yokan

Takara's Treasure

Although I Love You and You

I Hear the Sunspot

Living With Him

Love is Better the Second Time Around

Love is Like a Poison

Perfect Propose

Cosmetic Playlover

Sugar Dog Life

0.5D

Let's Eat Together Aki and Haru 2

Mitsuya-sensei no keimakutekina ezuke

Happy of the End

Ossans Love Season 2

Japan had 18 total BLs in 2023.

17-15 in 2022 (a couple I couldn't get hold of and a couple I just don't think are BL, so 2022 is vague).

7 in 2021. <- THAT was when the big jump occurred, 3 years ago. Which might have more to do with the pandemic than anything else.

But back to now: 19 in 2024 means they are actually just increasing their production gradually and in a steady way, as might be expected. In round numbers we didn't see anything unusual.

BUT

The series they've been airing in 2024 are running longer (for them) and being aired over longer periods of time. Not to mention getting better and quicker distribution.

By which I mean, Japan used to have more shorts and movies, less actual series with full run times (by their & Korea's BL industry length standard) on streaming platforms. So I think it's JBL runtime and distribution that is experiencing real growth. And the consistency of that runtime.

In other words, it feels like there are more JBL airing because we have access to most of them (for a change) and they're running long enough to cross into each other (which has been rare in the past).

What's almost more interesting to me is...

8 What the hell happened, Korea?

Korea cut back on their BLs in 2024. I am not sure if that's money drying up, a crack down within the industry over there, the political situation, or something else.

Still, it was wild to see such a stark fall off in production. They had 18 BLs in 2024 but fully half of them were shorts, and more than half were poor production quality than is prior standard. By contrast they had 21 in 2023, but only 1 was a short, and most were very high production (getting 8/10 or higher from me).

Since Korea tends to produce some of my favorite shows, it's no surprise I had no 10/10 BLs at all in 2024 with so little KBL's stepping up to the plate.

I sure hope this isn't a trend but it feels like it might be.

9 Why the hell is the not-kiss back?

Korea doubled down on being a pain in 2024 by bringing back the "they don't actually touch lips and we pretend they did by panning around the back of the head" with the camera. (Jazz for 2 sides, example. Yes, I'm still mad.)

Then Thailand did the with Addicted Heroin. AND with Love Sick.

What is this, 2016?

Color me annoyed. I thought we saw the last of that nonsense with Make It Right.

I remind you all, if they would kiss if they het but they don't kiss when they gay, it smacks of a phobia and I'm salty about it.

Yes yes, there are actor (idol, age) excuses in play. But they should cast differently if this is going to be a problem.

End of discussion.

No really, I don't wanna talk about it. I just want it to go away.

10 The rise of Great Grandmas

We have had cool grandmas before in BL but in 2024 we had so many of them. The Sign, Love for Love’s Sake, Monster Next Door, Jack & Joker, Every You Every Me, The Rebound, Wandee Goodday.

(thanks to @small-dark-and-delicious for bringing this one to my attention)

See the comments for additional discussion of the "why" behind some of these trends as well as a few I missed.

(source)

2023's Trends report here.

#2024 bl #bl round up #2024 bl trends #trend report 2024 #unknown the series #taiwanese bl #japanese bl #korena bl #what happened to korean bl?#My Stand In #wandee goodday #Century of Love #thai bl #daouoffroad #green flag seme #jazz for two #grandma in bl #bl grandma

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crescenthistory · 1 month ago

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your last animagus fic was so sweet! it even made some ideas popped in my mind. i was thinking about feisty (gn) reader being a crow animagus accompanying barty into his mischief, which could be scaring the skittles or pranking people in general. if you could write this, it would be wonderful 💞

(fun fact: crows can mimic sounds such as ambience noise or even human voice, this is so amazing and a bit scary, imagine encounter one while you walk in the woods AAAAAKXNSM!!! i love them so much, thx for reading me yapp xx)

hi lovely<33 thank YOU for yapping to me, i find it very endearing and entertaining 🤲 people who are passionate about what they love>>>>

now, i personally don't think i would be able to write this as a full-length fic, as pranking and mischief is not reallyyyy within my toolbox BUT this is very cute so i'm giving you some belated headcanons 🫂 if anyone's able/willing to write a longer version, please do share with the class and tag me!!

i present to you my thoughts of crow!animagus!reader x barty:

i imagine you become an animagus before you and barty get together

(because if you wanted to do it while the two of you were friends/dating he would INSIST on doing the transformation process with you)

and i think deciding when your relationship is at the point where you can/should divulge that part of yourself would be difficult to pinpoint

so what happens is that you would be laying on the floor beside each other in the astronomy tower, stargazing together. a date of sorts, in the way every second you spend with barty somehow feels like a date as he is fully, wholly dedicated to you.

the later it got, the more you two would switch between genuinely trying to find and remember constellations and just goofing around

those type of late night conversations where you seem to get to know someone 100x more in just a few hours than you otherwise could over the spans of months

asking each other increasingly deep questions

"tell me something about you no one else knows"

when else would you get the perfect opportunity to reveal your animagus status to your boyfriend?

stupidly, you feared his reaction. would he be upset with you hiding it for so long? would he think your animagus form was silly? would he look at you differently?

but when i tell you this man shrieked with excitement

"show me, show me, show me"

when you turn into a crow and fly around him in circles, he genuinely would jump up excitedly and twirl in the same direction you're flying so that his eyes never have to leave your form, laughing and screaming

the only thing on his mind would be how spectacular and remarkable you are, excitement and love filling any space that the hostility you feared might have fostered

not to mention; "that's bloody badass, treasure"

you would land carefully on his shoulder and barty would scoop you up close to his body, almost squishing you and making you squeak

"we're gonna have to perfect the art of cuddling with crows," he would say gravely

barty, the secret academic weapon and swot that he is, would SO do his due diligence with research immediately upon the discovery

we're talking library trips, tomes and scrolls purchases, books upon books of muggle literature on crows and wizard literature on animagi that he chases through faster than you could imagine

when he learns of crows being able to mimic noises, including human voices, his mind floods with ideas

"oh, we are going to have fun baby"

that's how you start accompanying him into his many tirades and mischief

most of the time it is just as a companion, the crow sitting on his shoulder as he runs around the castle wreaking havoc

it adds to barty's general intimidating aura and the reputation that just barely proceeds him — the crazy guy with the facial piercings, acid green streaks in his hair, punkish style, chokers and a volatile wand now also has a crow with him everywhere? hell no, people steer clear of him

it doesn't help that many students swear he talks to the crow and seems to hold an entire conversation with it, based solely on its body language and occasional caws

"i swear to bloody merlin, the crow looked at me when i spoke badly of junior. it's like it understood, some human-like capabilities or what not, fucking scary."

it doesn't take long before you become a more active partner in his shenanigans, though

you will call out people's names to get them to enter a room barty needs them in (because let's be real, if barty called for them, nobody would be stupid enough to fall for it and go to him)

you deliver letters and packages for him, you caw behind first years so that they jump in fear, you borrow people's clips and rings and pens

poor regulus and evan get the most shit from you among the skittles, while dorcas finds the most amount of entertainment through it

i imagine it's through your animagus form that the skittles learn that when pandora talks to animals she actually does understand them -> you two have lengthy conversations, much to everyone's eventual chagrin

and while the skittles of course all learn you're an animagus, no one else in the castle does

(though i imagine the marauders have their strong suspicions from early on)

barty was already showering you in gifts — "my father's outrages amounts of money should be put to good" — but now he has taken it upon himself to get you anything and everything shiny he sees

"you're a literal crow and i'm your dutiful partner. i have to contribute to the nest."

(mind you, this would likely be a thing even before he ever sees you seek out something shiny while in animagus form; he just assumes)

ironically, barty starts behaving like a crow himself in how he seeks out shiny trinkets for you

and while you try and tell him you don't have those instincts when outside of your animagus form... you actually really do and you revel in the love and attention

after a while, i do believe he would attempt to become an animagus too

honestly, he would begin getting on your case about it every single day from finding out. same way he would immediately learn his s/o's native language imo — he needs to be included.

especially if regulus is a cat animagus in this universe, because his two favourite people simply cannot have something in common that he is excluded from. this man is the epitome of fomo

my default animagus form for barty is a raccoon, but i think he would also make a lot of fun as a bat animagus which fits perfect with you as a crow

can you imagine, just you two flying around on school grounds and later on in your neighbourhood when you move in together?

the crow and the bat<3(shit crazy boy who loves them)

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official-darkforest · 1 year ago

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been bouncing around an au in my head for a while. i dont have much solidified yet but here’s the three and their respective parentage

finchfeather (jayfeather) is the oldest of the three, he was born shortly after whitewing and birchfall became warriors (he was.. unplanned LOL)

finch and dove are siblings as jay’s wing and dove’s wing were siblings. it just makes more sense to me

since jay and dove have bird themed names, ivy gets a new one - pigeonfall to parallel dovewing (pigeon- from doves and pigeons being in the same family; -fall from her father since -wing is from their mother). jayfeather got changed to finchfeather since he’s no longer crow’s son (jays and crows are corvids)

holly and lion inherited their “manes” from leafpool’s side of the family

u can see the “order” of the three by the # of white dots on their faces lol

pigeon gets green eyes cuz pretty

finch can perceive light and shadows, but not much else. to him, starclan cats radiate very brightly its almost impossible for even him to miss them.

squirrelflight has fertility issues, yellowfang did lie about being completely barren, though. she and brambleclaw had been trying for kits for moons so he considered it a miracle by the time the three were finally born. it was considered a cryptic pregnancy as whitewing didnt know she was pregnant until her third trimester!

sandstorm, daisy, and ferncloud noticed leafpool’s pregnancy. the latter two kept quiet, and had to convince sandstorm not to mention it before leafpool was ready.

i dont havw any other notes rn but maybe i’ll post more of this au later lol

#warrior cats #the power of three #warrior cats au #jayfeather #lionblaze #hollyleaf #dovewing #ivypool #birchfall #whitewing #squirrelflight #leafpool #brambleclaw #bramblestar #crowfeather

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bunny-jpeg · 9 months ago

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swordsman

roronoa zoro

cw: pwp/smut, possessive!zoro, rough sex, outdoor (ship) sex, jealous!zoro, nipple/breast play

bunny says: like the fic? leave a comment! really love the fic? suggest your own!

zoro didn't mind many things. he was preoccupied with other things to focus on the specific details of the day to day of the ship. but the one thing that set him off was quite simple.

the sight of another man flirting with his girl.

while he didn't mind for the most part when sanji did it, but when it was strangers that luffy was showing good graces too. that was not acceptable. luffy had let these pirates on board and while you were helping them move their stuff, the men's gazes lingered on your backside as you walked past.

it made zoro tighten his grip on his swords before he came over to be your shadow to keep men like that away. he put a hand on your hip and leaned down to kiss you on top of your head.

"what's goin' on, zoro?" you asked as you looked up at him, but was just met with another kiss. zoro was rarely affectionate in front of others. he never saw the need to perform romance in from of others.

"want to make sure you're alright." he nodded as he pulled away marginally. his hand lingered for a moment before he continued to follow you.

you chuckled, "oh now you're worried i can't handle things." you put down what you were carrying and pinched your lover's cheek. then leaned up into a kiss.

"i don't like how they're lookin' at ya." he said as he wrapped his arms around you. he pushed you into his chest, strong arms protected you as he looked over your head to glare at their vistors.

you held onto the front of his top and smiled into his warmth, "oh, zoro." you chuckled, "i can handle them if they got too handsy." then looked up at him with a smile, "plus, i don't want anyone else."

his hand reached down to your ass and gave it a firm grab and chuckled darkly when you yelped. jealousy boiled up into his chest as he gave the other men one last look.

he then said to your quietly, "meet me in the crow's nest after dinner."

you giggled into your hand as he walked away. what a possessive swordsman, you thought. it was like he staked claim on you and has not let any man outside of the crew talk to you.

you knew their gazes were lingering, but you thought it was something to be proud about. to know that you still got it. you turned back to your guests and led them to where they'd be staying tonight.

and yes, their gazes were on your behind as you brought them through the ship.

after dinner, the sun was still out. the days were longer now, which meant that when zoro started to undress you in the crow's nest. there was a glow to your skin by the late afternoon light.

his hands were on your breasts as you were straddling his waist. you had to attempt to be quiet as he gave slow licks to your sensitive nipples.

"you think you can let them look at ya like a piece of meat?" he grumbled against your skin, "that's my ass they're looking at."

you pulled on his green hair and made his eyes meet yours, "you mean it's my ass."

he shoved his head back between your breasts and replied, "what's yours is mine." his large hands felt up your breasts and tugged on your nipples playfully while he gave the flesh well deserved attention.

"you're such a brat." you grumbled as you touched his hair some more. you felt warm from his touches, those strong fingers massaged the tender flesh of your breasts.

it wasn't long before he grew bored of simple kisses and laid out out in the crow's neck and started to undress you further. it was your little getaway from the crew, the only place that you could have some privacy and get intimate.

"you look good." he praised. his hands traveled your sides towards your hips, "too good."

you reached out for him and pulled yourself up by his shoulders to kiss him. your arms held onto his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around your back to keep your supported.

he was so strong, it was admirable. even though he could be a bit harsh. he was your strong swordsman, despite the streak of possessiveness.

"don't worry." you whispered in his ear, "i'd only ever want you." then he put you back down on the floor of the nest. he man handled you onto your hands and knees with your face pressed against the wood. he rubbed his cock up against your slick entrance. he sighed at the feeling of your pussy.

he was never a man to crumble to his knees, but the feeling of your sweet cunt had his mind going blank. he groaned to himself as he teased your slit, the feeling left a thumping in his veins. he knew his face was flushed, and you knew if you were looking at him, you'd notice it too.

"how does it feel?"

"if you're going to keep teasing me, i'm going to explode." you grumbled into your arms as you used them to cushion your face. you inhaled deeply when he slipped his cock into you.

you both hissed together as he bottomed out into you. his cock reached as far as it would go. you clawed into the floor of the nest as you tried to relax your body to accommodate his size.

"yeah... shit." he grumbled to himself as he started to rock against you. his thrusts were strong and methodical. you could feel your heart in your throat as he fucked you up in that crow's nest.

"shit. please. zoro." you groaned as you back arched. the sounds of your bodies coming together filled the air and a part of zoro hoped that your guests for the night could hear the both of you.

they didn't need to be staring at what he owned.

he held you hips as he moved you back and forth on his cock. it was so much easier in that position. it let the green-haired man bury his cock as deep as he needed to be.

you tried to meet his pace as you worked together to make each other feel good. your moans were higher pitched, and it made zoro quite happy. he hoped that bastards could hear you.

"feels good." you grumbled against the floor.

zoro grabbed your ass cheek and then gave is a quick smack in a teasing manner, "i'm glad. i want to make you feel good." he was hunched over you, sweat made his muscle glisten in the afternoon light.

he was encouraged by your noises. he wanted to see how quickly he could get you to orgasm. to watch you fall apart while he speared his cock into you. it made him hot all over as he continued to thrust his cock in and out of your sweet cunt.

"you're mine." he growled.

"yes." you panted, feeling in an altered state with the rush of pleasure through your body. a part of you got off to the idea of zoro being your possessive shadow. such a strong man paired with someone like you.

you weren't defenseless, your abilities allowed you to be a valuable asset. but to have your physically imposing boyfriend fuck you like your lives depended on it. it was a euphoric rush that left you gasping and moaning as he drilled his cock into you.

"please, zoro."

"i got you." he said as he felt close to his climax. he could tell from your short words that the pleasure had muddled your brain. he worked your body quickly.

your eyes felt like they were going to roll back into your head. your heart raced and your body, despite cramped in the crow's nest, felt electrified with pleasure.

with a few more heavy thrusts he finished inside of you. you clenched around his cock and finished as well. zoro put you onto your back and leaned over you.

he smiled down at you like a madman, there was no stopping him. you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him in for a heated kiss. there was no stopping you either.

the next morning your guests left the ship when you hit land. you hobbled around the ship as there was a 'pain' in your back. everyone knew what happened in the several hours you were in the crow's nest.

you tried to play it off, but zoro put an arm around you and puffed his chest out with pride. he fucked you repeatedly, he made you squirm and moan. and nobody was taking his girl away, ever.

#bunny writes #reader insert #zoro smut #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro smut #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece smut #anime smut #anime x reader #op x reader #op smut

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hazashiovo · 9 months ago

Text

Remember in "Sleeping Beauty" the live action how Maleficent had a crow? That's what we're doing now,but with Malleus.

Malleus x crow shifter!Reader

Genre:Fluff, master and loyal servant trope.

Little bird

You always had a thing for shiny,pretty things. No matter whether it was some trash on the ground or a nice ring in a pawn shop.

Shiny objects never failed to grab your attention.

Malleus is shiny and definitely pretty, and you, being you, got attracted to him. Naturally of course.

Malleus is a shiny,pretty fae.

It was near impossible for him not to attract your interes.

Once he realized a certain bird was stalking him, the fae started leaving small amounts of food for you. It always brought a smile on his face when the mysterious bird tilted its head,its dark eyes filled with curiosity. In his eyes,it was such a cute action to do.

He must admit,the bird got his attention,and soon enough it became a habit.

Like crows usually do, you started leaving small trinkets that you personally found pretty, at his window.

It might be a flowery metallic hair clip that attracted you,or maybe some bottle cap with a pretty color.

He appreciated neither less ,it was a curious habit the fae and the animal picked on.

So malleus started reading. About crows,their habits and soon enough he found stories about them.

Those little creatures are quite interesting,it's what he would think while reading a particular sentence that made him think about the bird,once again.

Some say if a crow is fond of somebody they leave gifts as a sign of appreciation and sometimes, loyalty.

When this little black feathered animal chooses a person to grow attached to,it's quite the view to other people. And it means that you, as a person,are enough to gain one animal's trust.

Dark, beautiful creatures of the night, growing attached to complete strangers.

What Malleus didn't know was that inside the dark bird,there was a human soul.

Free to transform whenever they pleased, not really.

You can't shift whenever you want to,unless you want to be seen bare by other students,and you definitely do not want that.

When you're in your animal form you feel free, peaceful to do as you please,fly wherever you want.

Even if you're not truly a crow,the tendencies to behave like one are real besides eating worms and insects. That's not you.

Bleagh.

Before Meeting the tall guy,you used to collect the shiny things you found,but now that he's here, most of the objects you pick up are for him.

He leaves outside his bedroom window bread crumbs,cookie crumbs and whatever the indulging boy thinks is good for you or that you would enjoy.Even if you don't need it,you take them. Mostly to show him you trust him with.

They taste better when somebody gifts them to you. It's a fact.

Soon,Malleus allows himself to touch your head. A gentle rub on your black feathery small head. His green eyes whiden when you push your head in his hand, practically telling him to keep going.

He smiles,as he rubs below your dark beak. Malleus notices the way your eyes close affectionately. He could even imagine a ghostly smile on your beak.

It's one truly cute interaction.

Malleus's friends soon started to notice a particular bird on his shoulder, always watching.

Silver even had a feeling that you understood what they were saying,simply by your body language.

But most of the time crows and ravens are smart birds,some reaching the level of understanding of a 5 year old child.

It's very interesting,you are interesting, especially in Silver's eyes.

But he doesn't pay much attention to you,more busy to focus on Malleus.

You like Silver,he cares about Malleus a lot.

The first time Lillia has met you,he knew that you're not what you seem.

His age isn't a young one, therefore he's been through stuff,and learned things in his life.

Like now,he knows that you're not just a bird. You couldn't fool the older fae even if you tried.

So he silently watches,and he's not ashamed to make comments when you're alone, which isn't often since you're with Malleus most of the time,but still.

This man has you sweating,even if you don't particularly hide yourself on purpose.

Even if you're most comfortable around Malleus in your shifter form,the truth can't be hidden from him forever.

At the same time,you can't just shift in front of him back in your human form.

Meeting him with no clothes on,for the first time even, doesn't really seem like a good first impression.

Unfortunately,that is exactly how it happens. Not the naked part,but let's just say you're not clothed either.

Almost 6 months of constantly being on Malleus's shoulder taught you his schedule. So seeing him in his dorm room,eyes wide open watching your form,that's covered by his blanket.

Your original plan was to shift in his room, quickly change in some clothes that belong to him,and tell him the truth about who you truly are.

Simple as that.

It wasn't simple as that. Malleus arrived in his room earlier than he usually does, barely giving you time to cover yourself up.

Now this situation is exactly not the kind that you wanted to land in.

It's not like you could've brought your own clothes in Malleus's room. Your animal form can't carry that much weight,after all it's a small bird.

"Who are you?" Malleus's voice breaks your line of taughts,all thinking of your failed plan and the embarrassment of being in such a situation.

"This isn't what it looks like." The fae holds a curious expression,after all not every day he's met with a naked person in his chambers. Now that he thinks of it,you do white look familiar,but he just can't figure it out from where.

"Malleus,I swear I'm not a creep or anything of the sort." His silence allows you to continue explaining yourself,the blanket around you getting squeezed tighter around you, praying to whatever God was mocking you that this blanket remains on your naked body.

"You know my name?" You watch as the said boy moves closer towards you,now more curious than before.

You squint your eyes, focused on the floor,trying to find the right words to explain yourself.

How do you tell the boy you're completely loyal to,that you're actually a person with the ability to shift forms.

Exactly,you try explaining it.

"I know everything about you, not in a weird stalking way,don't get me wrong." Swallowing the lump in your throat,you meet eyes with the dark haired fae.

This situation is less than comfortable for you.

"Then do explain,what are you doing in my bedroom and why are you bare?"He leaves out the part where you mentioned knowing him,and focused on the important matter.

"Well,I wanted to tell you the truth,or rather show you the truth but..." A sigh leaves your lips at the failure of your oh so great plan, "I didn't have enough time."

He watches as you follow his steps with your eyes,the deja Vu clear as day.

Just who is this interesting person who claims to know Malleus Draconia?

"Say, child of man, what might the truth be? The one you desired to tell me so bad that it was necessary for you to be bare in my room. Enlighten me." Malleus speaks,voice steady and calm,unlike yours. Shaky and anxious.

"I will gladly talk to you...mind if I ask but, can I borrow some clothes?" The question leaves Malleus a bit shocked,only nodding in agreement.

What shocked him even more was that you knew from where to take the clothes.

Excusing yourself to change,you don't miss the unusual expression on Malleus's face. Not so often do you get to see him expressing such an emotion, especially one you caused.

Finally dressed,you dare to properly meet eyes with Malleus. Ready to explain yourself properly.

"Now,I owe you an explanation." The boy takes a few seconds to take in your new appearance,his clothes looking quite nice on you.

"That you do,child of man. Starting by why you were in my room?" He doesn't take his eyes off you,instead fixates them in your eyes. There it was again,that sense of familiarity. Like he's known you for a long time.

"I came to your room, because I wished to show you who I truly was." A deep breath in,and an exhale. It's time to break it to him,that's the whole reason why you came here , right?

Your eyes dart around the room,a singular object catching your eye. A shiny silver ring you found on campus a couple months ago.

Making quick effort,you move towards the table to pick up the ring.

Malleus realizes it,and before your hand could make contact with the piece of jewelry his palm wraps around your wrist, stopping you immediately.

"How is you touching my belongings going to answer any of my questions? Are you perhaps here to steal,human?" His green radiant eyes narrow at you,gaze burning into your own. This ring could never be worn by the fae. Unfortunately you learned that one of Malleus's weaknesses is silver.

If you had known before you would've kept the ring to yourself. Even with his condition,Malleus still kept it, because it was a gift from his loyal little bird.

"Allow me," your soft eyes break contact with his narrowed ones,just for a second. He allows you to pick up the ring,his gaze fixated on what you're trying to show him.

"I brought this to you 3 Months ago,you fed me candy bits,even if it's unhealthy for a bird,I accepted them." Malleus's narrowed eyes widen he seems to be doing it a lot nowadays,or is it just the effect you have on him? Maybe.

"Now how could you have known that,and why would you refer to yourself as a bird?" He's not quite getting the hang of the situation,in his defense,this has never happened before.

You sigh,maybe the best thing to do is just show him,but then when you'll turn back you'll be naked again. Ugh...this is a curse.

"What if I just show you instead?" This was more a question towards yourself rather than for him,even so,Malleus nods. Carefully watching you as you back away.

You take a deep breath in,and there it is. The clothes you just borrowed from the tall male in a pile on the ground.

His brows furrow, was this a trick? Did you wish to play a prank on him?

He doesn't get to drown to deep in his thoughts,the sudden movement in the pile of clothes draws his attention.

The boy slightly bends down, trying to get a glimpse of whatever might be there. And out of the clothes,a crow emerges, a black feathered beautiful crow.

Not just any Crow,but you.

Now it's clear,why you were so familiar in the boys eyes.

Even so,the realization hits him hard, especially when you take your designed place on his shoulder.

Malleus's eyes link with the bird's,your eyes."It's...you?" Voice questionable,you knew he wouldn't have an extreme reaction. The time spent with him taught you that.

From your beak, the ring lays securely gripped. The fae's hand extends, allowing you to drop it in,only for a few seconds. The metal burning his porcelain hands. The ring quickly lands on the table, remaining as nothing more than a gift,and a decoration to his dark room.

You cow,like Malleus could understand you. It feels good to show yourself to him,not having to carry what felt like a horrible lie in your chest.

Once the shock wears off, he smiles. That warm beautiful smile that warmed your heart every time you saw it.

Fortunately,most of the time it was directed to you,after you brought him something nice from one of your trips outside the school.

"You're quite the interesting one,little birdie." He takes the liberty to adjust your position, setting you on his wrist.

"You never fail to surprise me." His white,large hand gently pet your little head,right above the beak. He swears he could hear you purr,like a cat.

Maybe it was only his imagination,but the way your head once again leaned into his palm,that wasn't his mind.

You two make quite the pair.

I had this little idea and I just had to write it. Maybe I'll make a part two to it, depending on what ideas I get next.

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undreaming-fanfiction · 9 months ago

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Party Animal

Steve hated parties. And who could blame him? The infamous Halloween party of 1984 left more scars on his heart than he carried from all his other misadventures. Alcohol made people say thinks they buried deep inside, but then instead of owning up to them, they'd say "I was drunk", as if that was any excuse. So yes, Steve and parties didn't go together anymore.

And yet he stupidly decided to throw one anyway.

Look, they deserved it. All of them did - Eddie, Nancy, Robin, even Jonathan and Argyle, they all earned acting like actual teenagers for one evening. Steve wanted to see Eddie, now miraculously his boyfriend, just have fun, laugh, be silly. So a party it was.

It all went great - dancing, drinking, nibbling on mountains of Argyle's homemade pizza - but eventually they all got drunk. Not Steve, he just sipped one beer and kept an eye on everyone. Jonathan and Argyle were smoking outside, Nancy and Robin flirted in the most embarrassing way possible and Eddie...

Steve heard sniffling from the bathroom and his heart sank.

He didn't want to go there. He didn't want to be told that this was all a misunderstanding, that he pressured Eddie with his flirting, didn't want to hear he's bullshit again.

But no matter how terrified he was, he could never abandon Eddie. So he went in.

Eddie was leaning over the sink, wiping at his face and trying to control his breathing. "Shit..." he muttered and turned away from Steve. "Sorry, I...uh. I'll be there in a sec."

"Eddie..." It came out as a whisper. "Are...are you okay? Did I do something?"

Eddie just chuckled and pulled hair in front of his face. "Sure did," he mumbled.

And it made horrible sense to Steve. Of course he was the reason Eddie was crying. He couldn't help fucking up, he'd tried so hard to change but apparently it was 1984 all over again. So he took a deep breath and waited for the final blow.

"You're just perfect, Stevie."

Oh.

That wasn't what being broken up with sounded like. In fact, Eddie didn't seem angry at him at all. "...sorry?"

Eddie laughed, wet and high in his throat. "Like, you...you are too good to be true, you know? You throw a party for us and then you even don't drink so we're all cared for if anything happens? You...you give your best friend a green light to date your ex who shredded your heart to pieces? You invite the guy that your ex cheated on you with and his friend? You're just so good about it. And you're funny and so bitchy that I want to kiss you all the time. And I just...I love you so much, you know? And I've never felt that way about anyone and it's fucking scary, man."

Steve's racing thoughts came to a screching halt. Where he was too busy panicking and praying he'd still have time to fix whatever he did, now his brain settled on maybe I'm not getting broken up with? "So, uh..." he muttered as he watched Eddie try fix his eyeliner, "...there's, like, nothing wrong? Or maybe...do you want me to go slower? I know I can be a lot."

His boyfriend gave an incredulous laugh. There was no salvaging the eyeliner now, it was getting caught in Eddie's early crow feet, and Steve had never seen a more beautiful sight. "No, Steve. You're not a lot. In fact, you're just enough in every single way, but knowing that you're it for me, that good things can happen...it makes me terrified. I've never put all my drugs in a single lunchbox, or whatever metaphor you want to use for it, but with you I'm just throwing all the caution into the wind. And for the first time, I..." he stopped, chewing on his lip, "...I don't want to run away when I mess up. I want to stay, face the music and fix it. You're re-writing the Munson doctrine again and again and I just...I don't want you to settle for me, Steve. You are the whole package and I'm still cleaning all my messes. I guess today showed me that and I...yeah. Sorry about all this," he pointed at his tear-streaked face.

Eddie suddenly seemed so small, so insecure, and that wouldn't do. It woke Steve up from his frozen state and he took a step forward, cradling Eddie's face in his palms. "I'm not. Settling for you, that is." He was probably smudging the black even more, but Eddie would have been beautiful to him even fully covered in grime, and there were more important things to focus on. "Eddie, you keep talking about the Munson doctrine and being work in progress, but you don't see how you've thrown all the stuff I used to do out of the window, and I'm better for it. With you, I don't feel rushed, I don't have to perform or pretend. I can just live in the moment."

As he continued his speech, something strange started happening. Seeing people cry normally had a guaranteed effect on Steve - just one tear, quiet sob and he pushed his emotions down to be dealt with later or possibly never, someone needed him, and that was the priority. But now, staring at Eddie's wet eyes and shaky hands? He felt his own face crumbling and what better place to hide it than in Eddie's Metallica t-shirt. It smelled of cigarettes, pizza and the cheap laundry detergent that had come to mean home to Steve. "Sorry," he choked out. "Shit. I was...sorry, I'm supposed to be...you know. Consoling you. But I heard you crying and I thought...I..."

Eddie shook his head and tightened his grip on Steve's waist. "Oh Stevie. Whatever that pretty head of yours thought of, it's not happening. Unless it's kissing me, which duh, that's happening, if you want to of course, and staying with me to the point that you're sick of me."

Steve just whimpered into Eddie's shoulder, something that suspiciously sounded like "Now who's perfect, huh?"

His boyfriend just chuckled. "I guess that in a way, we both are. Maybe for each other?" If he'd aimed for self-deprecating tone, he failed. Instead, it was hopeful.

Steve didn't answer, but his embrace said it all.

They remained wrapped around each other for a long while, until Eddie whispered in Steve's ear: "how about we let the others celebrate on their own, hm? They won't be driving, their stuff is already in the guest bedrooms, and I hear your bed is wonderful this time of the year."

There was a muffled "yes" coming from Eddie's shoulder, and a few adjustments and "Good night!"s later, they found themselves in Steve's bedroom. Eddie managed to remove most of the rogue eyeliner, which was lucky. The time in the bathroom wasn't the last time he shed a tear that day, because as they were falling asleep, Steve said:

"You might be the first person who is dating the real me, and I'd like you to be the last one as well."

Tomorrow, he'd hold a funeral for the Munson doctrine. But today, he was going to wrap himself around Steve like a cuddly octopus and know that even if he doesn't manage to hold on tight the whole night, Steve would be there in the morning.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie drabble #background ronance #fluff and fluff and FLUFF #the first WIP out of a fuckton has been finished #yay #also I can't sleep who would have thought?

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kiame-sama · 3 months ago

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Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 9

(Submitted fan-art of Jade in the monster AU. All credit goes to artist who requested to remain anonymous)

Warnings; yandere, platonic and romantic yanderes, multiple yandere characters, my monster AU, tears, hurt/comfort, blood, injury, furious yanderes, forgiveness, Unicorn, Kelpie, Faun, Selkie, Bakeneko, Dragon, Cervitaur, Vampire Bat, Raiju, Gnoll, Crow,

~~~~~~~~

One of the first things you noticed as you slowly came back to yourself was that it was fairly bright where you lay, shadows occasionally flicking over your vision before the light returned. The next thing that came to your attention was the soft sound of crying. No, soft was not the right word. This was sobbing, heavy and heartbroken.

"Please, don't say she's dead. Please. I'll do anything. Please!"

You recognized the voice somewhat, not overly familiar as to be able to place it upon first waking, but you did know it was a voice you have heard before. Another voice tried to speak, but you couldn't hear it over the sobbing and almost nonsensical apologies mixed with pleads. Somewhere in your mind you recognized that you had to fully wake at some point, but your limbs felt heavy and almost immoveable.

"I'll do anything... Just, please... Please bring her back..."

As your eyes slowly slid opened, you were looking up at a familiar face stained with countless tears. He didn't look the way he usually did, the corners of his mouth still red and raw with the way they had been torn to accommodate the fangs he previously had. His golden crown had been knocked off of his head and his golden horn had a dark black spider-web crack near the tip.

"Riddle, she was already wounded before she got hit with a direct blast of magic. Humans don't have magic and their bodies can't take that kind of strain-"

"I won't be the one to kill the last Human! I can't be... I can't be the one to have killed her..."

Your dominant hand slowly lifted, reaching up to that tear streaked face and resting against his puffy cheeks. The brush of your hand on his face made his eyes fly open with shock as he stared down at you.

"Riddle," your throat felt scratchy and dry, "why are you crying?"

His tears began anew but this time in a mixture of relief and joy as he held your hand to his chest. Your head turned slowly to look around you and you realized you were laying in the Heartslabuyl garden. It looked like very little time had passed since that last magical attack had hit the stunned and overblotted Riddle.

"You're okay! I'm so sorry, (Y/n), I should have been the only one to never hurt you, but instead I overblotted and almost killed you.... Your arm, it... Don't move, okay? Just stay still..."

You vaguely registered what he was talking about as your head slowly turned towards your arm. The axe no longer dug into it but you were very clearly still wounded as Trey kneeled next to you, using magic to staunch the bleeding. It was surprising to you to see the Kelpie, his side equally wounded but somewhat wrapped with what you could only assume was kelp. A faint green tint to the usually white fur was certainly a curious concept as you had honestly assumed he was just a white horse called a Kelpie.

The three of you were on the ground and certainly looked like you had been through Hell and back. While you contemplated what had happened you noticed the sound of footsteps running towards you. You didn't have much time to wonder who was running before a familiar face entered your sight, his blue hair ruffled and light blue eyes wide with stress as he was looking over his shoulder.

"They're over here! Hurry! She's really hurt!"

Deuce was stressed as he waved over those you assumed were there to help you, the sheer worry in the Faun's tone almost made you worry. You were actually feeling quite alright despite the injury and you vaguely wondered if it had anything to do with the magic Trey was using.

"Professor Divus, quickly! I can only use 'Paint the Roses' to keep the pain at bay for a little bit longer before I run out of magic."

The familiar and extremely concerned face of Professor Divus came into view as Deuce moved away to give him space to work. He easily took over with his magic and gave Trey a moment to rest after the battle. Even as Divus kneeled quickly at your side Riddle refused to let go of your hand.

"My poor pup..."

Divus cooed at you gently as he summoned several tinctures and tonics, setting them up quickly by your side. Trey's magic faded away as the Kelpie held his side, now turning his attention to his own wounds and trying to treat them. Without the soothing impact of Trey's magic, you began to feel the full brunt of the pain in your arm. It was agony.

Pain shot up and down your arm as if it had been cleaved in two and you couldn't bring yourself to actually assess the damage given it had been deeply injured by the large Axe. As tears began to form in your eyes, Riddle only seemed to become more distressed. He quickly tried to soothe you, petting your face and arm as if that would stop the pain you felt burning inside of you. More tears formed and Riddle only seemed to become more distressed as he tried to keep you calm despite what had happened.

"Where's Grim? Where's- Where's my boy? Where is My Grim?"

Your voice hitched and whimpered as your emotions began to run wild, trying to look around to find your faithful companion. The longer it took to find him, the more you struggled to move and even tried to stand so you could locate the soft creature.

"He's right here, Human, it's okay. Your Grim is right here."

You almost felt like you had been drugged as you saw your soft companion seemed to be floating over to you. He was clearly wriggling in whatever held him up, reaching out his little paws to you and even trying to flap his little ruined wings to get to your side faster. As Grim was set down next to you, he scampered directly to your side and cuddled against your body. The little critter held your arm with his paws and mewled as he pressed his little body against you as if trying to let you know he was still there and he seemed to be crying.

"Don't die. Please don't die... I have no one else who cares... I- I don't have anywhere else..!"

You tried to move your hand to pet the little creatures, but found yourself unable to pull away from Riddle. The Unicorn in question refused to let go of your hand, still pressing it against his face and muttering apologies.

"You're still terrible at making friends, Riddle."

An almost amused voice spoke now and the space where Grim had been floating seemed to ripple and form as a cat-boy dressed in all white appeared. He had pink hair with faint teal stripes throughout, golden eyes, and two cat ears atop his head. Lazily waving behind him was a tail that split two-thirds of the way down into two separate ends. You had no idea who this was.

"Leave me alone, Che'nya..."

"That's no way to greet an old friend who just saw you turn Feral and who saved your precious 'King of Hearts' from your magical temper-tantrum. You almost singed my uniform."

"What?"

"What, did you honestly think she would have survived a blast like that? That was enough magic to crack your horn."

Divus didn't seem to take note or notice the conversation between the newcomer and Riddle as he moved to try and lift your body to sit up. The newcomer was quick to move behind you, helping the Selkie sit you up and lean you against the stranger's chest. The sound of a bottle being uncorked drew your gaze to Divus as he held the potion to your lips, letting you drink it down at your own pace instead of forcing you to drink it. The moment the first bit of the potion settled in your stomach, you began to feel significantly less pain from your arm.

"Aww, aren't you just adorable? I did want to stop by and meet you when I saw Cater's selfie with you on Magicam, but I didn't think all this would happen when I did. I know we Bakeneko are often considered to be bad luck, but this is just ridiculous."

His smile curved up at the corners making a cheshire grin that reminded you quite a lot of cats from your world and even of Grim who had now moved himself to your stomach. The little cat lay with his chin on your stomach and his torn little ears drooping as he watched you with those big blue eyes. It felt wrong to see him so sad when he had been a fairly positive influence on your life and always seemed to make you smile when you got too deep into thought. Still, between the two cats- the one on your stomach and the one behind you- you began to feel a little more at peace despite the situation.

"The name's Che'nya. I'm a Bakeneko, and you are a Human~ didn't think I would be saving your life today, but I will happily take a plate of Trey's strawberry tarts as a thank you gift."

"You're welcome to them, Che'nya. You know, you don't have to show up to our unbirthday parties just to get some of the tarts, right?"

"Yeah, well, you Night Raven boys don't really like us Sword Academy types. Wow, Riddle really almost chopped you in half, Trey."

"It isn't that bad or that deep..."

As Trey talked to Che'nya, Divus had gotten started on your arm, which you could now see thanks to being propped up against the grinning cat-man. The axe had done serious damage and you vaguely worried what would happen to the limb, but to your surprise it almost looked like it was slowly stitching itself back together with every tonic added to it. Part of you was morbidly fascinated by the injury, but another part of you didn't really want to look given the grisly appearance.

It was while you were observing your arm that dark clouds began to form overhead, rolling and growling with the low sound of thunder. The sound made everyone look up and Divus cast a nervous glance towards Riddle. Riddle just continued to mumble and hold your hand, almost as if here were in some kind of trance.

"Th-thunder? Why here? Why now?"

Grim mewled, curling up tighter on your stomach and even moving to try and slide under your uniform jacket to shield from the approaching storm. In your desire to comfort him, you actually managed to remove your hand from Riddle's grasp. In response, the Unicorn let out a stressed noise and tried to catch your hand once more so he could keep holding it for his own comfort.

"Who dares harm my hoard?"

The voice was a low rumble of menace and rage and it seemed to carry over the entire dorm as students- who had been trying to clean up the now destroyed garden- all began to cower. Some even fled to the interior of the dorm.

"I think that's my cue to leave. Sorry, Human, I'm not keen to be toasted by a Dragon today. Remember you owe me tarts for saving you."

The cat-man behind you quickly faded out of view, the support of his chest also leaving from behind you. Divus was quick to take the place of the Che'nya, letting you lean on his broad chest as he subconsciously moved part of his fur over you, shielding your wound from the wind which had begun to pick up. Shadows blotted out the sun and green lightning began to arch from cloud to cloud.

"The perpetrator will pay dearly for this sleight."

You somewhat recognized the voice, though it was dipped in more venom and rage than you had heard before. From the entrance to the garden walked a furious Malleus Draconia, flanked on either side by his faithful guards. Lilia was perched on Silver's back and seemed to be searching for something as he glanced around the ruined garden. His wings spread, taking one mighty gust to lift him up into the air as he coasted on leathery wings to where you lay.

"(Y/n)," the Bat called as he landed, moving past Riddle and almost shoving the distraught Unicorn to the side as he took his place next to your uninjured arm, "we were just about to come look for you when your collar sent out a distress call."

You hummed, vaguely thinking about the loose collar- affixed to you by that damned Crow- that sat around your neck, wondering who else it contacted. Lilia glanced over your body and frowned deeply when he noticed your mangled arm, Divus still attempting to shield it from the debris being thrown around from the wind.

"Malleus, calm. You can be as angry as you wish, but your temper is causing more harm to (Y/n). We can't treat her wounds if you insist on creating a storm."

Malleus, Sebek, and Silver were quick to join you, almost completely disregarding the equally injured Kelpie and the upset Unicorn that caused all this fuss. The wind calmed significantly, but the thunder overhead was just as loud and almost seemed to be happening more frequently. Malleus' eyes smouldered with rage, but softened to concern as he took in your current state and your wounded arm.

"Crewel, what is your assessment?"

"It's badly damaged. I do think we can fix it with consistent care, but it will have to be wrapped and carefully monitored. We should consider ourselves lucky he did not sever the limb."

"Tell me who did this and I will see that his punishment is swift."

You spoke now, still resting a hand over Grim who had successfully made it under your uniform jacket.

"Not now... Malleus... please?"

"No. Even if you ask, I cannot forgive such an act so easily. The blot levels in the air are nothing short of someone going Feral and they need to be dealt with accordingly."

Even as you tried to argue, Malleus was not keen to listen. Lilia moved you so Divus could return to his work on your arm, letting you instead lay against the smaller Bat who wrapped a wing around your uninjured side in a kind of hug. Were it not for the odd headspace you were in thanks to Divus' potion, you would have laughed at the way you were moved from person to person in such a short time.

It was odd to you to not feel any pain seeing as your arm was still quite injured, but that must have been the whole purpose of the potion. Leave it to the Selkie to master a pain-relieving potion he would only use on the Human he considered to be his pup. The Selkie in question finished wrapping your arm, taking a moment to check over you one more time before moving onto Trey.

"I'm the one who hurt her."

The almost sorrowful voice of Riddle spoke now. His eyes were red from crying and he looked near despondent as he hung his head in shame, refusing to move from where Lilia had shoved him. It vaguely interested you to know the little Bat was much stronger than he looked, but you vaguely recalled shoving the Unicorn to the ground as well though those memories were more than a little hazy as to the how and why of the matter.

"I'm the one who hurt Trey. I'm the one who overblotted and went Feral. All of this is my fault... and I accept whatever punishment you deem fit, Malleus."

"You- the Unicorn that was so enamored with my Human he demanded she be taken from my care- did all of this?"

Malleus made a wide gesture to the ruined garden, his eyes glinting poisonously at the clearly grief stricken Unicorn. Riddle just let his head fall lower, the tears resuming their path down his flushed cheeks. He felt like he deserved whatever painful retribution Malleus decided on and he would accept it one hundred times over to repent for his abominable actions.

"Malleus, please-"

You tried again, cutting off with a slight wince as the vague sensation of pain stopped you from sitting up. Though that potion did away with much of the agony you felt, there was still a lingering pain in your body any time you tried to move it.

"No, (Y/n), I deserve this and worse for what I've done to you, to Trey, and even to Grim. I cannot be forgiven for such a crime. I deserve to be beheaded."

"Well I don't want you to be beheaded."

"Please-"

"No. You're damn right you fucked up. You thought you were the best choice and that you knew what was best for me even though I am the only one who could possibly know what is best for me. You messed up. But no one is dead, right?"

The Unicorn refused to meet your gaze, the potion doing more than just removing your pain as it also seemed to remove your filter.

"... No one died, but I almost killed everyone and even Grim. If you hadn't stopped me, I would have-"

"Wait," Sebek spoke now, his voice thick with confusion, "(Y/n) stopped you? How did she possibly do that?"

"I don't know how she did it," Riddle shook his head, "but she threw me back onto the ground and blocked my axe with her own arm. I didn't even see it was her until I was getting back up and saw what I had done."

During this, Malleus was carefully inspecting your injured arm. He turned it gently and you even saw his forked tongue flash out from time to time past his lips, gathering the scent of the bandages and wound. The storm somewhat quieted as he explored your injury, humming a soft lilt that was oddly soothing despite coming from the large reptilian man.

"I warned all of you that first day just what Humans in extreme distress are capable of. You threatened the life of someone she considers to be her family, she retaliated. You're actually lucky she was injured and didn't turn that axe on you. I have seen the kind of strength a distressed Human posseses when defending family. I have seen a dead woman walking who refused to go down because her family needed her. I have seen Human men missing limbs still slaughter their betters to give their family a chance at living. Humans are weak, but never underestimate the sheer strength of will a Human has to defend their family."

Lilia hummed, resting his chin on your shoulder as he spoke. As Malleus placed your arm over your stomach, Lilia's other wing wrapped around you to fully embrace you in the warmth. Grim crawled out of your jacket, purring as he gently bumped his head against your chin.

"My Hooman is my family too. I don't want anyone hurting her again."

"Nor do we. It is not a good thing she had to use such strength, it can be harmful to exert that much force on muscles not made to perform such acts."

You were much more comfortable in the warm wings of the Bat but you were still worried for Riddle because of Malleus' threatening aura. The Dragon was actually much calmer now though he was still furious someone dare to harm a member of his hoard. As a Dragon, it is his instinctual duty to protect his hoard from danger and he would not allow such acts to go unpunished.

"Rosehearts," the low growl sent shivers down your spine, "after further consideration of your own remorse and the pleas of my child of man, I have decided your penance. You shall not be permitted to any time alone with her and whatever time you do spend in her presence must be monitored by another Housewarden until it is clear you will not overblot again."

"But I deserve so much worse for-"

"I don't recall telling you that you had any say in what I deem as appropriate punishment."

Riddle quieted himself with a nod of submission, looking away from the intense eyes of the Dragon. You had genuinely expected Malleus to be angrier, but apparently he held your opinion in rather high regard as he decided to not slay the Unicorn for his actions. Maybe the Dragon did see you as more than a pet.

"Furthermore, the next time it is Heartslabuyl's turn to guard her, you will be forfeiting that honor to Diasomnia until you have proven to be in control of yourself."

"But I- okay. I understand..."

It was then you decided to speak up, still feeling more than a little loopy and cozy thanks to the tandem potion and wing-hug.

"For what it's worth, Riddle, I don't forgive you, but I don't think I hate you either. Try to hurt Grim again and I will hate you, but I don't hate you right now."

~•§•~

"I hate him so much right now..."

You frowned deeply as you whined, holding your arm and staring at the kitchen. You could try to make something with one arm, but it was going to be difficult. There was little chance you were going to let Lilia cook as Silver had near begged to be spared such a fate, so you had to figure something out. Part of you deeply resented the many ruined pastries as you had been so excited to try them when you saw them sitting with such organized disorder on the table.

"What a waste of good food."

You continued muttering angrily as you moved around the kitchen trying to gather ingredients. The general plan was to make something simple and quick so you could rest your arm- per Professor Divus' strict instructions- but feeding seven was a lot of work. Four portions for your four guards, one for you, one for Grim, and one for the inevitable return of the Gnoll Ruggie. He was likely camped out somewhere near your dorm at the moment, just waiting for that good smell to bring him in.

Lilia sat nearby, petting a now content and very relaxed Grim who was curled up next to the Bat. He had offered to cook only once and now let you continue the process as you insisted and he decided not to interfere further. Sebek was trying to be helpful and wound up doing far too much, grabbing the pots and pans from you any time you tried to lift one and you were starting to become irate. A dull throbbing ache in your arm only took even more from your quickly thinning patience.

It was then a gentle knock came at that side kitchen door and you nearly screamed in rage from yet another uninvited guest. Lilia was quick to answer and you were caught off guard by the voices you heard.

"It is only fair the remaining tarts left in the kitchen come here. Besides, she needs to cook her meals but can only use one arm, I'm not great beyond the bakery, but I can still help in the kitchen."

"It is my duty as the one who caused the harm to rectify my mistake or at least help where I can. I understand if I should be turned away."

You walked over to the doorway behind Lilia, surprised to see Riddle and Trey standing there. Now that you were lucid and not in a magic induced stupor, you were actually able to take in the full brevity of their injuries.

Trey's side was wrapped up in a bandage but he seemed to be in good spirits despite it all. That green you thought you saw in his coat was gone and he was back to that immaculate white. He seemed to be gingering a leg but still stood holding a covered tray.

Riddle was back in his dorm clothes, crown and all, despite looking much worse for wear. His horn was now shorter than before, the cracked point having been filed down to the non-cracked section and the cuts along the corners of his mouth were bandaged. There were still sections of his hair and tail that looked like they had been leeched of color, an almost black tinted gray from his time overblotted. The gold of his hooves and horn had lost some of their shine.

"Riddle, you need to rest. Being up and about won't help."

"But I need-"

"You need to lay down somewhere."

"I can't. Not when you and Trey are up and working."

"Come in, the both of you."

You sighed as the two trotted their way into the dorm, Trey having to duck to get through the door. He set the tray down and turned to smile at you as he rolled up his sleeves, ready to get to work helping you in the kitchen. Honestly, you could have kissed him in that moment for the absolute relief you felt at having another pair of hands in the kitchen. Taking a quick look at what you already gathered, a quick idea came to you that involved much less work for you and a good way to utilize Trey's bakery skills in the process.

"Ever had a meat pie? Kind of like making a fruit pie but savory. I can get the filling together if you can make the crusts and tops for the individual meat pies, just make sure to use less sugar. I'm sure there are tins around here somewhere."

"I can absolutely do that. How many am I making?"

"Well, there's going to be ten of us if the evening plays out the way I think it will."

"How do you figure?"

"There's usually one or two extra visitors during meals here so may as well make extra. If not, I can always have more later."

"Fair enough."

You already had mostly gathered up what you would need to make a decent filling for these pies, so only a few things extra needed to be grabbed. Clearly, you were now in a much better mood thanks to having someone to help who wouldn't burn down the kitchen. It was as you were contemplating cutting the vegetables that Silver quietly stepped in, dicing the vegetables and meat into fine cubes that would go well in the dish. There was very little you actually had to do other than get the rest put together and soon the delicious aroma of the baking pies could be smelled through the entire dorm.

Riddle had tried several times to help, but you made Sebek bring in one of the oversized couches from the main dorm common-area. You had recalled seeing the furniture and wondering just what would need a couch so large. Now that answer was quite obvious as Riddle lay on the couch, almost immediately passing out once he got comfortable. Silver picked up the blanket that he kept across his back, laying it over the exhausted Sophomore and let him sleep.

As the aroma of the pies got stronger, the inevitable whining and scratching came from that side door. Ruggie was back and he was seeking more food to feast upon, ever hungry and yapping in excitement at the prospect of another meal. You vaguely considered just trying to cook a bunch of things and having the Gnoll be your taste tester. He certainly wouldn't mind the free food.

"Got it~"

Lilia sang as he hopped down from the counter he claimed as a perch, opening the door for the eager Gnoll. Ruggie followed his nose right to the large oven and his tail began wagging incredibly fast as he snorted against the side of the oven.

"Careful, Ruggie, it's hot. When they're done cooking we have to let them sit for a bit or they could burn you."

"Okay! When? Is it soon? They smell so good, I want one now."

"You can't have one now, but you can lick the bowl if you really want to."

He didn't need any invitation beyond that to begin lazily licking the bowl the filling had been in, eager to get all the food he could. You would have laughed at the way he so happily feasted on the scraps if you weren't so tired. Even as you leaned against the counter, you somewhat considered laying on top of the Unicorn and taking a nap as well.

Somewhere in your thinking another presence made itself known in that you were suddenly grabbed and pulled into a tighter than comfortable hug.

"My little chick, are you okay? How is your arm? Have you been taking care of it? I flew over the second I got back. I was meeting the Royal Sword Academy Headmage when your collar pinged. Divus told me what happened. Where is that damned Unicorn-?"

"Quiet. He's sleeping. I'm not fine- but it could be worse. You will let Riddle sleep- he is exhausted- or you don't get a pie."

"... Pie?"

You frowned as the Headmage thankfully released you, still staying rather close as he examined your injured arm. His feathers were ruffled and it almost looked like he had flown to where you were as soon as he received news of your condition. Somewhere in the back of your mind you wondered how he got in the dorm, but he was the Headmage and odds are had access to all the buildings on campus.

It was then he actually seemed to take a deep breath, humming out curiously and noticing Ruggie who still had his nose close to the door of the oven. Ruggie was not keen to move from his spot but he begrudgingly allowed the Headmage to approach the oven. He took a quick peek inside and seemed to like what he saw as his smile returned and he forgot all about the sleeping Riddle.

"Oh? It has been a while since I last had a good Human-cooked meal... Very well. Since I'm just the vision of kindness, and your forgiveness is nothing short of inspiring, I can forgive Mr. Rosehearts for now. He is clearly still feeling the lasting effects of overblotting but hopefully he will learn from this and avoid such extremes in the future."

You rolled your eyes at the way the Headmage praised himself but you were happy to know Riddle was at least able to keep sleeping. When the pies were ready, you would wake him, but he needed the rest right now. Trey constantly checked on the pies and once they had a good golden crisp, he got them out of the oven. It made you glad Trey was present as he kept the hungry Gnoll at bay until the pies were cool enough to eat without scalding anyone.

"Riddle?"

You were gentle as you woke the Unicorn, he had been sleeping deeply and seemed almost confused when you woke him. The slight snort that came from him made you chuckle somewhat as you offered him the warm meat pie.

"But, I don't deserve-"

"You will eat that pie and shut up about being deserving or I will force feed the entire thing to you."

There was a look in his eyes as if he felt he didn't deserve the nice meal, but his hunger won him over rather quickly as he took several slow bites and savored the meal you and Trey had made.

Ruggie scarfed the food down in seconds and now lay on the tile of the kitchen, his somewhat distended stomach spoke volumes to how content he was as he basked next to the residual warmth of the oven. Grim was quick to join the Gnoll and the two you felt most responsible for in the dorm clearly enjoyed their meal. Even Crowley was making happy cawing noises as he ate the pie.

"I must say, I was curious how these pies would taste, but you were right, (Y/n). They're delicious."

"See, Trey? Even if you're used to making sweets, you can make something savory with those same bakery skills and just a little less sugar."

"I would love to learn to make more, if you would allow my curiosity."

Crowley's wings fluffed out, making both you and the Kelpie pause the conversation to look over at the odd bird-man. He had cleaned his plate and was licking his fork for whatever bit was left on the splines.

"(Y/n), my precious little chick, how would you feel about teaching some culinary classes once your arm heals up?"

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #twst monster au #Humans Are Extinct TWST AU

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