#and I doubt the chords are up yet so

[rxmxa]

random astro observations part 13.✨

✨just for fun im just talking random ass shit based on PERSONALL observations..✨

PART TWELVE. 📀

virgo risings and people getting intimidated by the way they speak (scorpio 3rd house). But then when you get know and befriend them theyre so sweet (pisces 7h, cancer 11h). My virgo rising bestie & when i first met her in college she was speaking in class and i was like woah shes smart asf and intense 😭

or sag risings and them speaking to people in a direct yet still obscure manner! or sometimes even cold in a sense.. like girl what do u really mean fr 🤨 (aqua 3h). But then you get closer with them and they love to chat with you (gemini 7h) and make anytime u hang out a pleasant and nice time (libra 11h). my sag rising friend throws the best parties (going all out with the decor, presentation of food, having a theme & ofc taking nice pics after… real libra 11h shit).

taurus risings and them communicating in a very soft, comforting manner (cancer 3h) and as you get closer you notice their intensity in their relationships with people (scorpio 7h) and their giving, helpful nature in their friendships (pisces 11h).

another thing about taurus risings, you can bet they are getting FREAKYYY with their partner with that scorpio 7h 😭they are very private with their relationships and rarely reveal personal details about it unless they trust you. my taurus rising cousin and she never shares anything about her bf (whats mine is mine you dont need to worry about it) energy. and she also has mentioned she doesnt need to give ppl a reason to try to found out for themselves what a great time shes having lmfaooo

also my taurus rising coworkers and one time we all went out for drinks and one of our coworkers was complaining about how women always have a shit time when having seggs with men and my taurus rising coworker was like “wellppp cant relate.”.. and i oop 🙈

the 2nd house rules the vocal chords and as an aries 2h sometimes when im excited or even mad i sound like a 12 year old 😭 like naruto when hes giving one of his NEVER GIVE UP NEVER BACK DOWNNN speech. I also feel like if you have scorpio or aries 2h people always think you're mad and want you to "calm down" when you talk. like no im not mad have you ever heard of being fucking passionate? hmmm?

In general, aries placements could also find they get a lot of patronizing comments or aries women could even find that men often try to "mainsplain" them. just bc aries are being assertive doesnt mean theyre being reckless or not seeing the big picture.. its all a balance. Aries DOES have this youthful /bold energy, but that doesnt mean they cant be wise people who prefer to learn by doing, even if others mistake their approach for inexperience..

we know plutonians can be seen as having this “abrasive” energy to other people. it can throw them off or make them be like “oh i dont like them.” but pluto doms recognize other plutonian people its that silent understand lmaooo its giving "real recognize real😎 " overall tho pluto dom ppl try to give others the benefit of the doubt (not necessarily bc they like them but just bc they wanna feel the energy on their own). like if people are talking shit about someone pluto doms might sit back and stay silent about it. they do their digging on their own. theyre not gonna let the crowd influence how they feel about someone. plutonians will be DOING THEIR DIGGING FIRST no matter what.

I remember a time when my cousin, who’s a Scorpio rising, asked me if I liked one of her friends (not in a romantic way). I said, 'Yeah, why?' and she replied, 'Oh, just asking because she said she feels like you don’t like her, but I knew she was overthinking it.'" We moved on from the conversation, but later, I realized that was such a typical Scorpio rising move. Instead of just telling me, 'Hey, my friend feels like you don’t like her,' she asked me that question first to confirm or deny it. I felt like she did that on purpose to make it harder for me to lie, even though I wouldn’t have lied in the first place. It annoyed me because, like, why would I lie about something like that??? But then I understood it’s just her nature. Scorpio risings ask questions in a detective ass way because they want to dig for the truth and feel out people’s responses.

plutonians and scorpios do that shit all the time, tilting their heads like little cats, squinting, being all like "oh..hmm, why do you think that?" like no im about to do this shit with u rn sherlock fuckin JONES u know WHYYY

in my moon aspects post ppl asked me if it still applied with “harminous aspects” and yes. it still does. just bc u think its easier doesnt negate the energy. for ex i have moon trine neptune and my mom (moon) has always been in her own world (neptune). and other family members find her energy “endearing” or ask me to “be kinder to her” but its also hard when your mom often times cares more about the world of what ifs in her head more than the real world with her daughter ... also my moms way of coping (moon) at times would literally be by saying in front of the family as soon she got home that she hates her life and wish she could “grow wings and be somewhere far away from everyone ” like delulu was always the solution for her 😭….

but also i wonder if people with moon-neptune placements feel confused (neptune) about motherhood (moon) in general. i use to say i didn't want kids but as ive gotten older i do like the idea of it. it just feels very....… [static noises]

nui.views on instagram reminds me of the aries-libra axis so much. Most of her videos have titles like “how to be soft and direct” or “how to balance sharp and soft expressions.” usually titles along those lines. We know theres always time to read the room (libra) but also knowing when its time to stand up or speak up! (aries) and nui.views basically says it’s possible to do both.

12h moons & their moms being their biggest enemyyy is crazy!! 🤨 the passive aggressive behavior, entitlement, hating from the sidelines. AND the expectation of the 12h moon child to “repay” or be “grateful” mother for all they did. my ex had a 12h scorpio moon and brooo anytime they got a good thing, mom would make it all about her (for ex they bought a new car, mom was LIVIDDDDD). the moon can show how mom takes advantage. for ex: scorpio moon in the 12h and mom (moon) is possessive about the resources (scorpio) you have or over you in general. taurus moon and mom (moon) is possessive about your money (taurus) or maybe even holds over your head that “she feeds you.” i have a coworker with a 12h taurus moon and her mom constantly borrows money from her or literally steals it and never pays it back. capricorn moon and mom may feel like your accomplishments belong to her or “you wouldn’t be successful without all i did” energy.

^ their can be a lot of enmeshment with the mom with this placement (especially if their is a moon-pluto aspect) but its something the 12h moon person has to decide to sever or break from on their own and on their own time. this placement has to deal with the “mother always knows best😊😊😊😊” energy

12th house Moon women and other women (Moon) being their hidden enemies (12th house) is so real! I remember at my old job, one of my coworkers had a 12th house Aquarius Moon, and all the women would talk so much shit about her behind her back. (To be fair, she wasn’t doing her job well, but their comments were just unnecessarily nasty.) I used to feel bad for her in meetings because everyone would act normal to her face. I wasn’t at that job long… With this placement, it's common for other women (whether friends, family, or acquaintances) to secretly harbor resentment, jealousy, or animosity that isn’t obvious on the surface. Plus, with 12th house placements, if the person is genuinely doing something wrong or needs feedback, instead of being honest, people often use that as an excuse to bring up unrelated complaints or things they don’t like, turning it into something bigger than it is!! Like girl how did you go from talking about her customer service skills to talking about her haircut be fr!

how do you guys feel about people who plan their pregnancies to get a sign/ birth chart they are compatible with for their child? not gonna lie I use to think that shit was crazy but then I think about the 12h synastry and squares I have with my mom and im like... this shii couldve been way cuter...

gemini placements are the people that wake up in the middle of the night to google a random fact. its a itch they gotta scratch 😭 me with my chart ruler gemini jupiter in the 3h. trying to do type a paper for a class in one sitting? well no i got sidetracked reading about how to defend yourself against bear attacks which led me to bear survival stories on reddit which led me to reading about polar bears which led me to finding an article about the farmer that got attacked and eaten by his own hog named teddy and then… boom . its 3am.

Its so hard though like we know the "jack of all trades" label that comes with mercurial energy but damn what if I just wanna be a jack of one trade and be really good at that one thing? I bounce around from thing to thing because im always getting these diff ideas but im really working on finishing something once I start it. its just hard.... sometimes I b having a lot to yap about, ya know? (ive had many diff hobbies, writing fan-fiction, painting, making candles, crocheting, LMAOOO its just chaos sometimes)

sometimes aspects can be very literal. im spilling some family tea sorry tia but for ex my aunt has venus conjuct pluto in the 10th house and her relationships (venus) are known for (10h) being taboo or just frowned upon (10h). She dated her besties ex-husband and it caused A LOT OF drama and then he fucking died bro...like?? Being known for (10h) her lovers (venus) dying (pluto)?????? im not trying to be a judgmental asshole but also its so disappointing though when people use aspects like this for evil? fucking ur besties man as soon as they get divorced? with that venus-pluto in the 10h she could've found herself a successful ass business man!

my bestie is a teacher and she was telling me about how the kids were sharing about what they wanna be when they grow up and when it got to this one girls turn she said she wanted to be a basketball player or some shit like that (the point is it was a very 5th grade response similar to her peers) but then like the kids started clapping when she said hers??? LMAOOOO and to me that is the most sun-venus SHIT EVER. and then she told me all the the 5th grade tea, how some of the boys have a crush on her haha. shes admired and well liked (venus) just for being who she is (sun)!

moon-venus is different. my experience with venus-moon aspect has consisted of women always feeling comfortable enough to confide me, me feeling more comfy with women around, children loving me, children in my family venting to me (im that one cousin the babies reach out to first to get picked up ejeje). the moon is about the inner self, privacy, and our home life. A moon-venus person might be very well-liked, but often in a more low-key, intimate way. They're the type of person you confide in or feel safe with, rather than someone who shines in the spotlight or dominates a social scene the way a sun-venus person would. both aspects make a person likable, but in different way. sun-venus is more about being confident and noticeable, while moon-venus is more about being caring and emotionally connected with others.

btw doing personalized astro observations in the style of the way i usually write my random ones but instead based on your birth chart 😙🥰

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ Euphoria. ✦ 」

[Mattheo riddle x Inexperienced!reader]

Request: can you perhaps do an inexperienced reader x mattheo with like thigh riding and dry humping .

Words: 2.400

Warning: thighs riding, dry humping, f(orgasm), fluff ,smut .

Sat alone at the top of the Astronomy Tower, hidden away from prying eyes, consumed by the weight of my emotions. Tears streamed down my cheeks uncontrollably, my sobs echoing off the stone walls as I struggled to contain the storm raging within me.

Suddenly, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder, I looked up to see Mattheo, his concerned eyes searching mine. He pushed the strands of hair away from my face, brushing away the tears with a tenderness that made my heart ache.

"What's wrong, my love?" he whispered, his voice soft and soothing. "Why are you crying like this Y/N?"

I hiccupped through my tears, unable to form words as the pain threatened to overwhelm me. But Mattheo pulled me into his arms, holding me close as he whispered sweet words of comfort and reassurance.

"Shh, it's okay," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to my wounded soul. "You can tell me anything, darling. I promise I'll fix it for you. I hate to see tears in those beautiful eyes."

His words melted away the walls around my heart, and I buried my face in his chest, letting myself be enveloped by his love and warmth. In that moment, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as I had Mattheo by my side, everything would be okay.

“He called me a prude," I choked out, my voice trembling with emotion. "He said I ruined our date because I wouldn't let him touch me. He said so many hurtful things...".

Mattheo's expression softened with understanding as he listened attentively, his arms wrapped protectively around me. "I'm so sorry, my love," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.

"You did nothing wrong. You have every right to set boundaries and expect respect and he’s going to pay for each tear that falls from your eyes."

His words washed over me like a soothing balm, calming the storm of doubts and insecurities raging within me. "I just wanted to feel wanted," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "To go on a date like the other girls..."

"You are wanted, more than you could ever know," he insisted, his gaze burning with intensity. "Not by just anyone, but by someone who sees your worth, your beauty, your intelligence, and your kindness. Someone who loves you for exactly who you are."

His words struck a chord deep within me, touching a part of my soul that I had thought long buried beneath layers of self-doubt. "But I'm a prude," I protested weakly, the label still echoing in my mind.

Mattheo's expression softened, his eyes filled with an emotion that sent a shiver down my spine. "You're not,"

"Baby, it's not like that," he reassured me, his voice gentle but firm. "You're not a prude. Those boys don't even deserve one tear from those beautiful eyes."

I gazed at him, my heart swelling with a mixture of love and disbelief at his heartfelt words. His unwavering belief in me, his unwavering love, it was overwhelming. And as I looked into his eyes, filled with an intensity that took my breath away.

"But I'm inexperienced," I admitted quietly, my voice tinged with uncertainty.

His response was immediate, his tone filled with unwavering confidence. "You're just waiting for the right person," he assured me, his gaze steady.

I met his eyes, searching for the courage to express the feelings that swirled within me. I longed to tell him in that moment that he was the only boy who mattered to me, that my heart beat for him alone. But the fear of rejection held me back. He was Mattheo, and I was just me. How could I dare to dream of being more than his best friend?

"But what if the right person never sees me? What if they never develop feelings for me?" I questioned, my voice betraying my uncertainty.

His response was gentle yet firm, his touch tender as he held my face in his hands. "Then you need to look more closely," he replied, his eyes flickering briefly to my lips before meeting mine once more.

As his breath caressed my face, his proximity sending a wave of anticipation coursing through me, I closed my eyes, unable to resist the magnetic pull drawing us together. I felt the gentle brush of his finger against my lower lip, a tender gesture that sent a shiver of excitement down my spine.

"Why are you wasting your time with those stupid boys, baby?" his voice was a soft murmur, laden with sincerity and affection. I dared to open my eyes, finding myself lost in the intensity of his gaze. He was so close, his presence enveloping me in warmth and reassurance.

And then, without hesitation, he closed the distance between us, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that stole my breath away. His lips were soft, so achingly soft against mine, yet the kiss held a passion and longing that left me utterly breathless.

In that moment, everything else faded away, leaving only the two of us suspended in time. His lips moved against mine with a gentle urgency, as if he was pouring all his unspoken feelings into the kiss. It was my first kiss, but it felt like so much more – it felt like the culmination of every unspoken desire and every hidden longing we had ever shared.

I melted into his embrace, my hands finding their way to his shoulders as I surrendered myself completely to the intoxicating sweetness of his kiss. The world around us ceased to exist as we lost ourselves in each other, our hearts beating as one in a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.

And as our lips finally parted, leaving us both breathless and flushed with desire

" you kissed me," I whispered, my voice barely a breath as I searched his eyes for answers.

He smiled, a softness in his gaze that made my heart flutter. "It took me so long to, but I did," he admitted, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and longing.

"Why did you kiss me?" I couldn't help but ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"Because I felt like I would have died if I didn't," he confessed, his words sending a thrill of excitement coursing through me.

I looked at him, my heart pounding in my chest as I dared to ask the question that had been lingering on my mind. "Do you... do you like me too?"

His response was immediate, his voice filled with a raw intensity that took my breath away. "Fuck, baby," he moaned, his words a desperate plea. "I'm in love with you. So deeply in love with you."

As he kissed me again, I melted into him, lost in the sensation of his lips against mine. But then I felt something beneath me, and I pulled back, concern etching my features.

"See, that's what you do to me," he murmured, his voice strained with desire.

I gasped, realizing the effect I was having on him. "It feels good," I admitted, my cheeks flushing with heat.

He smirked, his eyes darkening with lust. "What feels good, baby?" he teased, his hands roaming over my body.

"this... Mattheo, oh i this so good I want more ," I confessed, feeling a surge of arousal coursing through me.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his grip tightening on my thighs as I moved against him again.

But then, I felt a pang of worry. "I'm so sorry, Mattheo. Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," I babbled, my nerves getting the best of me.

He hushed me gently, his touch soothing my frayed nerves. "Shhh, my sweet girl, you did nothing wrong. It's just... if you continue to do that, it might....." he trailed off, his words leaving me hanging in suspense.

I swallowed hard, feeling a rush of embarrassment wash over me. "Did you ever experience the feeling of orgasm before? I mean, with yourself," he asked softly, his eyes filled with understanding.

I shook my head, feeling tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "No," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.

But instead of judgment, I found only warmth and reassurance in his gaze. He smiled gently and kissed me again, his lips tender against mine.

"So that makes you feel good?" he asked, his voice soft with concern. As I nodded, he continued, "I'm going to give you more, but let's take it step by step, okay?"

I nodded eagerly, desperate for more of the pleasure he could offer. And as he trailed kisses along my neck, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine, I knew that I was in good hands.

As his hands trailed up my thighs, pushing my dress higher until my wet panties were exposed, I felt a surge of anticipation coursing through me. His touch was electric, igniting a fire deep within me that I couldn't extinguish.

With a gentle yet firm hand, he guided me to straddle his thigh, positioning me so that I could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against me. I gasped at the sensation, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through my body.

"You're so fucking sexy," he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. "I love seeing you like this, all wet and ready for me."

I moaned in response, the sensation of his thigh against my throbbing core driving me wild with need. And as he began to move me against him, guiding my hips with his hands, I felt a wave of pleasure building deep within me.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice laced with approval. "That's it, ride my thigh just like that."

I closed my eyes, surrendering to the sensation as he continued to move me against him. With each thrust of my hips, I felt the tension building, the pleasure mounting with every stroke.

His lips found mine in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth as he urged me to let go of my inhibitions. "Don't be afraid, baby," he murmured against my lips. "Just feel it."

But with each movement, I could feel my pussy throbbing against his hard thigh, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through me. And then, as if by instinct, I shifted my hips, seeking more contact, more friction.

Mattheo groaned in response, his grip tightening on my hips as I ground against him with reckless abandon. "Fuck, baby," he muttered, his voice thick with desire. "You feel so good against me."

And then, as the pleasure reached its peak, I felt something new, something I had never experienced before. It was a tightness in my stomach, a fluttering sensation that seemed to radiate throughout my entire body.

"What... what is this feeling?" I gasped, my voice filled with uncertainty as I struggled to make sense of the overwhelming sensations coursing through me.

He kissed and sucked my neck gently, his lips sending shivers of pleasure down my spine. "Don't be afraid, my sweet girl," he whispered. "That's pleasure, and you deserve every bit of it."

I moaned in response, the sensation of his lips against my skin driving me wild with desire. With every movement, I felt myself drawing closer to the edge, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable intensity.

I moved my hips against his thigh, craving more of the friction that sent waves of pleasure coursing through me. His grip tightened on my hips, his touch electric as he guided me in my movements.

I felt a new hunger stirring deep within me. I wanted more, I needed more, and I knew that he was the only one who could give it to me.

"Please," I begged, my voice barely a whisper. "I want more."

He grinned, his eyes gleaming with lust as he moved me against him, his own arousal pressing against me now. "You want more, baby?" he growled, his hands gripping my hips possessively. "Then let me give it to you."

With a wicked grin, he shifted me slightly, guiding me so that I could feel the hard length of his arousal pressing against my soaked panties. As he moved me against him, the friction sent bolts of pleasure shooting through me, and I couldn't help but moan in response.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. "Feel how hard you make me. Feel what you do to me."

I whimpered as he continued to move me against him, the pleasure mounting with every stroke. His lips found mine in a searing kiss, his tongue dancing with mine as he urged me on.

"Ride me, baby," he growled, his voice filled with hunger. "Show me how much you want it."

With a desperate cry, I began to move against him, my hips rocking back and forth as I sought out the delicious friction he offered. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing over me, building with every stroke until I was teetering on the edge of ecstasy once more.

He watched me with hungry eyes, his hands gripping my hips as he guided me in my movements. "That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. "You're doing so well."

Encouraged by his praise, I moved faster, my body craving more of the pleasure he was giving me. With each thrust, I felt myself drawing closer to the edge, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable intensity.

And then, with a cry of pure ecstasy, I felt it happen. My body convulsed with uncontrollable spasms as waves of pleasure crashed over me, and I screamed his name as I tumbled over the edge into oblivion.

He held me close as I trembled with the force of my release, his arms wrapped around me protectively. And as I lay there, spent and sated in his arms, I knew that I had never experienced anything like this before.

He kissed my forehead softly, his lips tender against my skin as he whispered, "You're amazing, baby. Absolutely amazing."

I looked up at him, my body still tingling from the incredible pleasure he had just given me. "Matt, can you make me feel that feeling again? Can you teach me more " I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

His eyes darkened with desire as he gazed down at me, his fingers trailing lightly along my neck. "Fuck, baby," he muttered, his voice husky with need. "The things I want to do to you, the things I'm gonna do to you...".

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[short-yandere-stories]

I couldn't resist the brainworms that came from the small moment we got seeing Nakime and Muzan in the latest episode so have a short brainrot. Him sitting there on the chair,,,

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

CW: yandere themes, infantilizing behavior, NSFW, Non-con, oral sex, cockwarming, slight vouyerism

This is a yandere work. Proceed with caution and please be mindful of your triggers.

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Nakime, have a look over there," Muzan ordered, pointing at another area of the map he held in front of his lap. The demon who had just been raised to the rank of fourth among the Kizuki nodded, striking a note on her biwa.

Progress was being made on locating the rest of the Demon Slayer Corps. Nakime's enhanced abilities were exceptional when it came to searching and surveying vast areas in a short amount of time. If Muzan had fed her more blood to enhance her abilities sooner, maybe they would have found the Blue Spider Lily by now. Though, now that Nezuko had braved the sun, there was no need for the Spider Lily anymore. It was easier to search for one demon among the Demon Slayer Corps than a rare flower, and at this rate it was only a matter of time until they'd locate Ubuyashiki's manor as well.

Muzan was pleased with his current circumstance.

Especially so since his thick cock was resting deep inside your mouth.

You'd been sitting on your knees for the better part of an hour now, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes and jaw aching from the strain. It was embarrassing you to no end either, being used like this in front of someone else, even though Nakime's eyes were mostly elsewhere.

Muzan didn't care much for your feelings or embarrassment. If he wanted you to cockwarm him with your mouth, that is what you would do, no matter if it was in his private chambers, at his desk, or here, in front of Nakime.

You knew better than to defy him, even when he was in a good mood, so you remained on your knees, cheeks flushed in shame. At least it was only one of the Kizuki, one who was using her Demon Art to search areas far away. Yet you swore you could feel her eye staring at the back of your skull.

"There was no one there of interest, Lord Muzan," Nakime said, looking up at her master. He merely hummed, moving one slender finger to point at another area of the map.

"Search here."

"Yes, Lord Muzan."

With that, Nakime struck another note on her biwa. It always felt a little better the moments immediately after she played a chord, knowing that she definitely wasn't seeing you at that moment. Otherwise, you never knew when she was back before she spoke, and it was always a relief no matter how brief to not have her see you in this state.

You doubted she cared much for what she saw, but it didn't lessen the embarrassment you felt. You didn't even notice yourself slowly easing yourself away from Muzan's cock until you felt sharp nails scratching against your scalp, effortlessly sheathing himself fully inside your drooling mouth again.

"We're not done yet, pet," he chided, looking away from the map for a moment to stare down at your red, teary face. It was truly a sight to behold, and it felt impossible for him to get harder, but he did.

A low whine slipped past your lips, muffled by the girthy length inside your mouth, and Muzan chuckled, petting your head condescendingly.

"Seems like I haven't had you take me down your throat enough if an hour is where you reach your limit. We will have to do this more often."

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[tom-foolery-incorporated]

Bluetooth Connected

IDW Brainstorm x reader

Gender neutral AFAB, racially ambiguous, oral, clothes tearing, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, wireless dildo connected to Brainstorm’s spike, size difference

“Here come look!”

Brainstorm covered your eyes by placing a servo over your face. His other servo held onto your lap to keep you steady as you sat on his shoulder. The position was a little awkward but it was a bit better than Brainstorm holding you like a Panic Pete doll in his excitement.

You hummed a little cautious of what he was planning on showing you but still very curious.

Brainstorm has become somewhat infatuated with you. The little human aboard the Lost Light so much smaller than a minibot. It was a shock to everyone when he approached you one night at Swerve’s. He just rambled and talked while you listened. It was kind of endearing in a way.

He always seemed to find an excuse to pick you up, carry you around, spend time with you, or touch you in some way. It was honestly making Perceptor a bit nauseous watching his lab partner so lovey-dovey.

You returning his affection only made things worse. It seemed like little hearts were constantly floating around Brainstorm’s helm. It also didn’t help that Perceptor had found human pornographic magazines under one of Brainstorm’s project.

“It’s for research. When my partner and I reach that point in our relationship, I want to make sure I know what I’m doing!”

To Brainstorm’s credit Perceptor did find an actual human anatomy chart and a couple papers on human sexology with the dirty magazines but the magazines outnumbered the other items by a Long shot.

Perceptor would be working then feel the aroused pulse of Brainstorm’s EMP field as the teal bot was staring off into space. Primus help him.

It was no secret that Brainstorm wished to move your relationship past its current point. As lovely as your innocent kisses are, he couldn’t stop thinking about you spread wide on his spike. The sounds you’d make, how warm you’d feel around him, how tight your little body would be gripping onto his spike.

That was actually the biggest issue.

You barely came up to his knee plate and yet you were somehow expected to take his spike? It’s not that he doubts your abilities but he’d rather not have to go to Ratchet “I didn’t major in organics” of Vaporex to see if he can sew a human back together again.

“Ta-da!”

Brainstorm took his servo away from your face to show you what was basically a large dildo mounted on some smooth electronic components on Brainstorm’s personal desk in his habsuite.

You felt your body heat up in embarrassment. Why did he want to show you a sex toy?

“I know: too impressed to speak! I didn’t think it could be done, well I knew it could but I didn’t expect to finish it so fast!”

You slowly turned your head to face Brainstorm, a horrified and confused look on your face. He only stared back with excitement in his optics. You then looked back at the dildo.

It was the same teal and white as Brainstorm with a tapered tip and a thick middle that slimmed out near the base. It looked to have a sort of metal chord like texture to it.

Then it hit you.

“Is that your dick? Did you make a smaller version of your dick?”

Brainstorm’s engine revved in excitement at your realization. “Not only did I make a smaller you-sized version of my spike but it’s also wireless! You can take it and use it wherever you go.”

You squeezed your thighs together and covered your mouth with your hand. Brainstorm wasn’t the best at communication. He simply dove into his ideas and whims while holding you in his servo and it seems like him asking for sex was no different.

“Use?” You cautiously asked trying to make sense of what Brainstorm was insinuating.

“Yes! For vaginal, anal, and oral penetration or manual stimulation.” Brainstorm wiggled his optic ridge at the last part.

“Did you make me a dildo of your own dick?”

Brainstorm seemed almost offended by your description recoiling a little bit and putting a servo to his chasis. “Dildo? This is more than a primitive toy! As I said, it’s wireless so it’s connected to my interface panel without me having to modify my frame. Anything you do to it, I will feel.”

You flipped your attention away from the toy back to Brainstorm. His face plate was flushed blue with energon as his grip tightened on your lap. You could practically feel his spark thrumming in excitement.

“Could I try it?”

Brainstorm couldn’t help the delighted rev of his engine. The vibrations making their way through his frame and to your core. “I made it with just that in mind.”

He slid his mask off, sitting it down on the desk away from the toy before moving to kiss at your face. You guided Brainstorm so his top derma was pressed against your lips. The pliable metal surface all too familiar under your mouth. Your tongue peeking out from behind your lips to lick at his derma.

“Frag I need you so bad,” Brainstorm groaned against your mouth. He swiftly grabbed you off his shoulder before scooping up the toy from his desk and flopping on his berth with you on his chasis.

You squeaked at the sudden change in position earning an appreciative chuckle from Brainstorm. “Make more of those sounds,” he teased guiding you back to his intake.

You reached out your arms to hold his cheeks in your much smaller hands. Your lips rubbing across his dermas teasingly before finally giving in and pulling him into a passionate kiss.

His servos rested on your hips where he begun guiding you to grind your clothed pussy against his chasis. “Primus I can’t wait to feel that val-vagina,” Brainstorm corrected himself trying to use human terminology to talk about your body. You only choked out a laugh against his dermas at his verbiage.

Brainstorm pulled you away from his intake with his pride clearly bruised at your giggle.

“Is that not what your human valve is called?”

“It is but that’s like the clinical term,” you said rubbing his face plate tenderly. Brainstorm seemed to relax a little but was still a bit upset that he had gotten the phrasing wrong.

“You don’t have to try to use human terms, baby,” you said peppering kisses across his face plate. “It’s fine to call my pussy a valve.”

Brainstorm groaned having you cover him in such innocent affection while speaking about your own genitalia so casually. He’d remembered seeing nude models spreading their legs, bent over, and getting fucked in all sorts of positions within his ‘research’ magazines. Every time he imagined they were you spread out and gaping from taking a spike too big for your hole. All wet and leaking from cumming only to have your pussy plugged again by either his digits or his spike.

“I need you to get these off before I tear them off,” Brainstorm rumbled while pulling at your clothes. You considered for a minute the idea of Brainstorm tearing your clothes to shreds. While tempting you did not have an extra pair in his habsuite and Brainstorm would be all too eager to show off just exactly what he did to you.

You pulled your shirt up over your head as Brainstorm’s gentle digits ran over the skin of your chest down to your stomach. He pinched at the fat on your hips making you squeal and slap your hands down onto his chasis with your shirt still on your arms.

“You’re so soft,” Brainstorm only continued fondling your hips. “You did that on purpose,” you groaned tossing your shirt at Brainstorm’s faceplate.

Brainstorm only gave you a shit eating grin as he tossed your shirt aside. “No but I can’t say that your reaction wasn’t appreciated.” You huffed grabbing onto his servos with your hands as he fondled up and down your sides simply appreciating the flesh there.

“Don’t look at me with that face,” Brainstorm scolded tightening his grip on your hips. “I have half the mind to tear you apart on my real spike when you look at me like that.”

You couldn’t help the airy moan that came out of your mouth when you tried to speak. Brainstorm started to guide your hips to grind against his chasis. “Is that really all I have to do to make you moan?” Brainstorm teased. “Just say some dirty words and suddenly you’re leaking through your little human coverings?”

You hold onto Brainstorm’s servos as you moved your hips with the rhythm he set. “Perceptor told me he found your porn magazines,” you shot back with a mischievous smile.

Brainstorm’s servos stilled forcing your hips to stop. His optics were wide, he face flushed blue, and his lips parted like he was going to say something. For once you caught him off guard.

“Do you have a little human fetish?” You continued to tease while unbuttoning your pants. “You look so cute right now, Stormy. I wish I could take a picture of your face.”

Brainstorm’s expression changed from one of pure embarrassment to anger. He grabbed the waist of your pants pulling the fabric down your legs so fast you fell backwards. There was a slight tearing sound as he tossed your pants to the side. His servos grabbed your thighs making you spread your legs and reveal the wet spot that was growing in your underwear.

“Shut up,” Brainstorm growled as he dragged you closer to his faceplate. “Perceptor has no reason to speak to you.” His massive glossa ran over your clothed cunt. You moaned arching your hips up to his intake. “You’re mine,” Brainstorm posited his statement with another slow lick to your underwear.

You reached your hand out to hold onto one of Brainstorm’s digits as he began eating you out through your wet underwear. His dermas moved softly around your pelvis as his glossa sloppily licked at whatever he could find. “Doesn’t-fuck!,” you moaned out when Brainstorm began sucking on your pelvis area. “Doesn’t change the fact that you were jerking it to human porn on the job.” You couldn’t help but laugh at Brainstorm’s furious optics when they moved to look at your face. “Did you have this in mind when we first met?” You humped against his intake earning a pleased growl from the mech. His vocals vibrated through your entire body making you gasp out his name.

“Fuck! I’m sorry for making you wait so long! Should’ve fucked me right on the table,” you turned your head moaning and panting at Brainstorm’s treatment of your cunt.

Brainstorm moved away from your pussy grabbing the waistband of your underwear between his teeth and tearing them off your body. You had half the mind to scold him for tearing not only your pants but now your underwear but instead you were interrupted by a hot lick to your bare cunt.

“I should have,” Brainstorm agreed mulling over the taste of your pussy. “I should have spread out your little human valve right in the middle of Swerve’s. Humans stretch, if you can push another human out of this hole-“ Brainstorm rubbed his index against your pulsing hole before pushing the tip in making you arch your back and hiss in both pain and pleasure. “You could have taken my spike.”

“You would have ripped me apart!” You moan out while moving your hips against his digit.

Brainstorm looked all too pleased at you as he reached for the miniature version if his own spike. “I really would have,” he grinned. You heard a hiss like a release of air. You tilted your head back only to gawk in awe if the massive appendage before you.

His spike identical to the small version he was holding was leaking pink transfluid. Your mouth watered at the thought of licking him clean.

“Brainstorm, baby,” you said in an airy voice. “Please let me suck you. Fuck your dick looks so good!”

A shudder ran through Brainstorm that made his spike twitch. He released his grip on your legs allowing you to crawl over his chasis and to his spike. It was probably the length of your leg or just a little shorter. You couldn’t imagine trying to take him to the base but your hole pulsed at the idea anyway. Brainstorm watched appreciatively as you stood on your hands and knees just marveling at his spike. Your bare ass and pussy presented to him like a present.

“Go ahead, sweet spark,” Brainstorm moaned as he measured the smaller version of his spike against your cunt. “It’s all yours.”

You practically pounced on his spike your hands rubbing over the biolights as they pulsed the same blue light as his eyes. Your tongue traced up his shaft to his leaky head in worship. Brainstorm gasped out curling his hips forward into your eager touch. Your tongue slurped up as much of his transfluid as you could. Brainstorm nearly dropped the miniature version of his spike at the feeling of your soft mouth working his spike. It was everything he’d ever dreamed of. Those fantasies and restless recharge cycles spent thinking about your cute lips wrapped around him, your soft pussy leaking in front of him, everything was finally coming together.

Your hips wiggled so cutely in front of him he couldn’t help but press the tip of the miniature spike to your hole.

You gasped pushing your hips back at the feeling.

Brainstorm whined being able to feel both your leaky cunt and your hands at the same time. “Is it too much, baby?” You murmured with your lips trailing his spike. Brainstorm moaned out your name as he pushed the tip of the toy inside of you.

“Keep-“ Brainstorm felt his body glitch in pleasure. “Keep sucking.” He was panting at the simultaneous feeling of your pussy wrapped around him via the miniature of his spike and your lips on his actual member.

You obeyed Brainstorm’s plea kissing and sucking on the tip of his cock while slowly moving your hips against his miniature. “You taste so good, Stormy,” you moaned while licking the transfluid off your lips. Brainstorm’s servo grabbed the back of your head pushing you back down onto his spike. You squeaked out a surprised noise as your mouth engulfed the head of his spike once more.

He slipped more of the miniature into you his intake open and drooling at the feeling of both your pussy and mouth on him. Your tongue licking and teasing his slit while the wet walls of your cunt gripped him.

You squeezed your eyes shut feeling your hole being spread open over the thickest part of the miniature. You whined around his spike trying to push your hips back against the toy. It was then with a wet pop that you were able to take Brainstorm’s miniature spike to the base.

You felt stretched beyond belief. Your hole having never taken something so big. You sloppily licked around Brainstorm’s spike feeling drunk off of his spike. You needed more of him, you wanted more of him. Your hips rose and fell over the toy as Brainstorm held it to keep it steady. You were so soft, so wet. He couldn’t believe the feeling if your soft little human valve wrapped around him while you licked and worshiped his spike.

His eyes followed your pussy as his miniature slid in and out of your greedy hole with every rise and fall of your hips. The wet slapping of your drooling cunt against the metal of the toy was enough to have Brainstorm shivering and humping your mouth with his actual spike.

You moaned, hearts practically in your eyes, letting Brainstorm take from your mouth what he wanted.

“You’re so good,” there was a slight glitch in Brainstorm’s vocalizers. “I don’t think I’d be able to stop. I’m going to keep your valve stretched out like this all the time.” You shivered grinding your hips at the base of the toy. You released your mouth from Brainstorm’s spike with a wet pop as you wrapped your arms around the metal appendage. His humped against your torso while you bounced on the toy. The stimulation was proving too much and Brainstorm couldn’t hold back the cry of your name as he covered you in his transfluids.

Your face and torso were flooded with the glowing pink substance. You stood still in shock not expecting there to be so much cum. You looked over your shoulder at your panting lover. His optics half lidded and his intake open. His vents rushed air in and out trying to cool him down and the sight of your face covered in his release didn’t help.

He could still feel your pussy wrapped around him. Fluttering walls making him whine in overstimulation.

You smirked at his noise as you brought your hips up only to slam them back down. Brainstorm let out an almost pained moan but did nothing to stop you.

“Feel good?” You teased leaning forward so Brainstorm could get a better view of your sloppy cunt slobbering all over the miniature of his spike. Brainstorm nodded and for once was without words.

You eagerly bounced on his toy taking whatever you wanted from him. His optic ridges pulled together as he winced. It was starting to hurt having you fuck him after his overload but the feeling of your walls so wet and tight around him was too wonderful to stop.

“Mmmm,” you moaned arching your back. “I cant wait to use this again. I might keep it in me all day.”

Brainstorm swore under his breath his servos grabbing your hips to guide you up and down the toy. “You’d look so cute trying not to cum in front of everyone,” you teased. “No one would have any idea that your little human was using you like a toy.”

Brainstorm’s grip was bruising. You shivered knowing you’d have the imprints of his servos on your hips for days to come. Your hand wandered down to your clit rubbing the tight bundle in circles. The room was filled with the sounds of panting, gasping, and the wet plapping of your pussy as you fucked yourself on Brainstorm’s miniature.

“Fuck!” You cried tears coming to your eyes. “I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum all over your spike!”

You screamed Brainstorm’s name as a rush of fluids exited your body. Your squirt dripped down Brainstorm’s teal plating as you rode out your high. Your words were a jumbled mess of praise and Brainstorm’s name. He felt his spark flutter in pure bliss seeing his lover covered in his transfluid riding out their high on top of him.

“So good,” You muttered before feeling your knees go weak. Brainstorm’s servos kept you steady and balanced as he slipped you off the toy. A string of your slick arousal still connected your pulsing cunt to the miniature. He slowly rested your body against his helm as he carefully set the miniature aside.

You panted letting your body rest against his helm with your legs draped over his chasis. Your pussy still throbbing from your orgasm.

“I love you,” Brainstorm panted while stroking up your body with one of his servos. You turned your head pressing kisses to the side of his face plate. “Do you think you could make one of those but it’s my pussy instead?”

You had to hold on tight to Brainstorm’s faceplate as he jolted up in the berth. His eyes wide in excitement and realization. “I bet I could!” Brainstorm exclaimed his mind already running wild with ideas. You giggled holding onto his helm already excited for what he had planned.

[revelboo]

I went 50/50 with my brother on a full set of blokees just to ensure I got starscream and Cliff jumper (i got bumblebee too little cutie) I will be going absolutely feral with their transformers one starscream when he drops

They’ve taken over my computer monitor shelf and I can’t understand why there’s no advertising for them to speak of aside from their Insta account.

Fun fact: Everything is Alright was originally going to be a reverse harem including Megs. Reader just collecting the Decepticon high command one by one

Everything Is Alright Pt 54

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• Servos trace over your jaw, up to your temple to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear just to prolong the contact with you, because even knowing he has to go, his spark aches. No matter how many times he reassures himself that you’ll be right here, that you’re safe with the SIC, that uncertainty is still there. You reach up to tangle your little fingers with his servos and it almost breaks him, the bittersweet sorrow of your emotions washing into him. Making him wish he’d found you that day on the road, not the Seeker even as he wonders if he’d have taken you or if he’d have left you there hurt on the side of the road, never knowing what he was leaving behind. What he was missing.

• It hurts your heart when Soundwave mass shifts back to his full size and leaves, that unsettled misery in your chest spreading as you watch him go. Knowing how awful you are for wanting them both and how unfair it is to both of them. No matter how you feel about Soundwave, safe, cherished, you can’t hurt Starscream. Not after he’s let you see glimpses of who he really is under the sneering and dismissive scorn he wears like armor. That aching vulnerability he’d shown you had struck a chord inside you, driving home how lonely you’d been before him. He tries so hard to do right by you, take care of you. Sometimes he’s absolutely awful at it, but there’s never any doubt that he’s doing his best. That fragile feeling in your chest unfurls a bit more. Something that might be love, but you’re too scared to examine it too closely. Drawing your knees up against yourself, you pull that blanket he gave you around your shoulders, burying your face in it to inhale the scent of him. Of home.

• Striding through the base, he’s aware of Skywarp trying to greet him and brushing past his brother. He’ll make up for it later, but right now he needs to see you, touch you. Distract himself from the horror Thundercracker has driven into his processor and that’s threatening to drag him into a panic. Letting himself into his quarters, he finds you and your head lifts from where you’re sitting cocooned in that blanket. And he’s reaching for you, curling his servos around you to carefully press your warmth against the sensitive mesh of his neck so he can feel you there. Hating that he doesn’t have the energy to mass shift again yet. Wanting to hold you and frustrated by how tiny you are as you reach to touch his neck and he vents deeply. “Star?”

• “You stink like Soundwave,” he grouses without any real heat his voice. His servos are trembling against you, though. Upset about something. Before you can ask, he lifts you higher to brush his lips against your jaw, neck, and shoulder. There’s a melancholy in his expression that twists through you. Makes you want to hold him to you, because something is clearly wrong. The worst part is knowing he won’t volunteer whatever it is and prying will only make him distance himself. “I can’t mass shift,” he finally says.

• “It’s okay,” you say, leaning in his hands to press your cheek against his chin. Grounding him with that touch, because it’s not okay at all. He’s coming apart at the seams. Cradling your little form, he settles himself on the edge of his berth and gently pins you against his chassis alongside his canopy. As close to his spark as he can get you without exposing that vulnerable part of him to you. If you were Cybertronian, he’d be able to feel your spark if he did. Claim not only your body, but all of you. Bond himself to you. Except there’s no spark for his to entwine with and the compulsion is crazy. The urge to feel your soft hands stroke over his spark, to trust himself so fully to you, giving you the power to destroy him if you wanted to. Even knowing you wouldn’t, he just runs his servos along your spine. And he’s right back to wanting things not meant for him. Wanting everything.

Previous

Next

[theemporium]

[2.9k] when your boyfriend is giving his piano more attention than you, you set out to remind him just where his hands should be instead. (smut)

based off this request

.

It was torture.

Pure fucking torture. 

That was the only way to describe his current predicament, and yet, a sadistic part of him enjoyed it. He enjoyed it far more than he should have. He enjoyed it more than he ever thought he would. He didn’t even know if he wanted it to stop, even if his body was begging for it too. 

The situation leading up to this moment was stupid, honestly.

Charles loved the piano and it was a fact known to everyone. Despite the love and passion he had for racing, it had become a source of frustration in more recent months—something the people close to him knew all too well. And even if he kept loving it, there was times where he needed to step away from the sheets of data and the SIM car set up in the spare room of his apartment. 

There were times he just needed a release. 

And, it came in the form of the piano. 

At first, it was just a simple skill he decided to pick up in hopes that it would be a nice distraction from the endless hours he spent worrying about racing. Then, it became a hobby, a genuine interest to further the skill he had and become better. He was competitive after all.

Then, it became a way of expression. 

The notes flowing as his fingers danced across the keyboard felt freeing. The way the instrument did exactly what he wanted when he wanted it was something he lacked in other aspects of his life in recent years. The compositions were something to be proud of, a mark he could leave on the world beyond his career in motorsports. 

The piano became an outlet for Charles, something he became more reliant on in the last few weeks than he even realised. 

And it left you as a very sexually frustrated girlfriend.

You loved Charles. There was never a doubt in your mind that you loved Charles. You loved and supported what he did, you encouraged him to express himself whether it be in words or notes played on the piano. But, something bitter and resentful bubbled inside you at the fact you were fighting for your boyfriend’s attention, and your competition was a fucking musical instrument.

It just became easier for him to vent out his frustrations in a wordless hobby, and you understood that. But you missed him. 

You missed his touch and the way his fingers would glide over every inch of your body. You missed his kisses and the way they would leave you panting and breathless. You missed the way that when you were with him, you were his whole fucking world.

You missed your boyfriend’s attention just being on you, so you decided to teach him a lesson.

Maybe it was cruel. Maybe it wasn’t cruel enough. Maybe it was exactly what your boyfriend needed to remember the pretty girl he got to call his. 

“I didn’t say you could stop playing, Charles.”

He let out a shaky breath, a shiver running down his spine as his eyes snapped down to the keyboard beneath him. His hands were hovering over the white keys, his fingers itching to move but his brain was blank. Every single coherent thought was lost and he couldn’t fucking remember how to play a chord, let along a song.

But you asked him to keep playing, and who was he to deny his girl?

Even if said girl was currently lying on top of the grand piano he bought a few months back, clad in some lacy number he swore he had never seen before as her hands glided over the body he should have been touching, kissing, loving.

“Play, Charles. Show me what you’ve spent the last few weeks composing instead of touching me.”

He cleared his throat, his brain scrambling to remember the song that flowed so easily for him mere hours ago. But now, all he could think about was the noises that you were making, that you sounded better than any song he could ever compose. He was thinking about how he could listen to your pretty moans for the rest of his life.

His fingers were moving, slower and less confident that he would usually play, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he watched you closely. 

The slick, black wood beneath you was cold. It was cold and refreshing against your heated skin as you ran your hands down your stomach, your touch feather-light and teasing as you heard your boyfriend let out a strangled moan. 

Your eyes were closed but you could imagine it so clearly. You could imagine the flush on his cheeks, the colour sweet and pink and a colour you wanted to pain the world. You could imagine the dazed look in his watercolour eyes, the same look he got when his head was between your thighs and he had no expiration on when he had to pull away. You could imagine the way his broad shoulders tensed, the stiff movements as he tried to grasp onto whatever self-restraint he had left.

“Cherie, please,” he whispered, almost too low for you to hear. 

Your lips twitched upwards. “Play me your pretty song, baby.” 

He was distracted, and his playing told you as much. He was distracted with the way your fingers glided over your nipples, the way they hardened beneath the lacy material you wore that barely covered them. He was distracted when your other hand slid lower down your body, as your fingers slipped past the waistband of your panties.

He was distracted by the small gasp that left your lips when your fingers pressed down on your swollen clit. He was distracted by the needy whine you let out as your fingers glided along your soaking cunt, collecting your arousal before you finally slid one finger inside yourself. He was distracted by the way your body squirmed and arched as you touched yourself, as you moaned his name with his broken playing in the background. 

Charles was completely enraptured by you. He couldn’t fucking get enough of you. He didn’t care about the piano or his song, he didn’t care about anything other than the pretty girl fucking herself in front of him and the fact his cock was straining in the confinements of his boxers and sweatpants right now. 

He needed you. He needed you so fucking bad.

“Let me,” he croaked out, his eyes locked on the way your back arched off the piano. “Let me make you feel so good, baby. I can make you feel so good.”

Your head turned to the side, your eyes fixated on his glassy eyes and pouty lips. 

“Charles,” you moaned, your face contorting as you felt the coil in your stomach tighten.

“Please, baby, please,” he continued to beg, one hand dropping away from the keyboard to palm the length of his cock over his sweatpants. “Anything you want, let me give you it.”

You tucked your lip between your teeth. “Anything?”

“Anything,” he repeated breathlessly. 

“Make me come, Charlie,” you whispered. “Show me what a good boy you are.” 

The words had barely left your lips before his hands were on you. His fingers were digging into the fat of your thighs as he turned your body to face him, as he pulled you towards the edge of the piano until your panty-clad cunt was inches away from his face.

His fingers ran over the lacy material of the nightgown you were wearing before he pushed it further up your stomach, until it pooled just above your belly button. He looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours as he leaned down to lick a strip over your clothed cunt.

“Fuck,” you groaned as your head fell back against the piano, your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue pushed against the material of your panties. “Charles—”

“I know, cherie,” he murmured, his words hot and breathy against you as his nose nudged against your clit. “I know, I know what my baby needs.”

“Thought you were my good boy,” you goaded, your hands fisting the material of your nightgown as his arms wound around your thighs to lock you in place.

“I am,” he mumbled, his eyes falling shut as he placed kisses along your inner thighs, the slight stubble on his cheeks scratching against your skin in a way that made you arch closer to him. “Gonna show you how good I am.” 

The sound of fabric ripping was the least of your concerns as he tossed them away, the cool air hitting your exposed cunt for less than a few seconds before his mouth was on you. Charles loved being between your thighs, he could have spent his whole life between them if he got the chance. 

And now, with your thighs squeezing his ears and the sounds of your pretty whines echoing through the room, he realised just how long it had been since he had found himself in this position. That between the countless meetings, back-on-back race weekends and constant travelling, that he hadn’t been giving his princess the love she deserved. 

That he had been depriving himself of his favourite meal.

“Charles!” You cried out as his tongue sloppily lapped at your cunt, appreciating groans vibrating against you as your legs squeezed around him. You tried to clench your thighs together, only for him to pin your legs open again. 

Charles was a starved man, and he was fucking devouring you. 

The words leaving his lips were better off being incoherent to you. Phrases mixed between French and Italian that you didn’t quite understand, but it was hot as he lapped and licked and sucked and kissed every inch of your needy cunt until your thighs were soaked and you were certain that you were dripping down onto the keyboard.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you whined, your hands darting down to entangle themselves in his thick curls he had grown out. He let out a needy noise from the back of his throat, one that had his fingers digging into your skin so tight that you were sure it would bruise in the morning, but you didn’t care. “Right there, baby, fuck! Feel so fucking good, Charles, so good—oh!”

Your nails scratched against his scalp as his eyes fluttered shut, as he groaned against your cunt until you were coming. Your body tensed and shook, your moans pathetic and loud and just the way he liked it. His name was like a mantra on your lips, repeated over and over like a prayer. 

But Charles didn’t stop.

The swipes of his tongue were slow and lazy, but he didn’t stop even after you came. He licked up the mess he had made, he pressed your hips into the piano as you wiggled and squirmed under his hold. He enjoyed the dull pain as you pulled on his hair as he licked your wet thighs and needy cunt until you said the single phrase that could make him pull away from between your legs.

“Please, Charlie,” you whispered, breathless and whiny and greedy for more of him. “Need your cock.”

The noise that left his lips was some pathetic mix of a groan and a whine as he pulled away from you, his lips and chin glistening with your release as his tongue darted out for one more taste. He pushed himself up onto his feet, the piano bench now long forgotten as he quickly shoved his sweatpants and boxers down to his knees. 

His hand slid up your leg, lightly slapping the side of your thigh until you lifted your head to look at him. 

“Turn around, baby,” he murmured, his voice lower and gruffer than it was before. “Show me that pretty ass, cherie.”

Your hands were braced against the piano as Charles placed one hand on your waist, the other guiding his cock deep inside your cunt until he was buried to the prim. You let out a noise of content, the desire for the slight burn of his thick cock pushing into you eagerly fixed after weeks of craving him.

Your head fell back against his shoulder, a desperate noise leaving his lips as his head dipped down to press his lips against yours. And you let him kiss you. You let his tongue swipe over your bottom lip, you let yourself taste your release on his tongue as he deepened the kiss. You let him kiss you until your lungs burned for air and your body craved for him to move.

“Fuck me,” you whispered breathlessly against his lips. “Fuck me like you miss me.”

“I have fucking missed you,” Charles groaned as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. “Missed every single part of you, cherie. You’re fucking perfect.”

“Show me, Charles,” you sighed as your fingers gripped the edge of the piano. “Fuck me on this stupid piano and show me.” 

Charles was a patient man. He was a patient man who had the tolerance and restraint that would make a saint envious. He was usually so collected, so calm and put together even in situations where he didn’t have to be.

But any semblance of patience was thrown out the window when it came to you, especially when it came to fucking you.

The room that was usually full of beautiful notes and passionate music was now replaced with the sound of skin on skin, slapping against each other and accompanied by debauch noises that left a pink tint to his cheeks.

He had one hand pressed against the middle of your back, keeping your tits and face pressed against the cool wood as he fucked you from behind. His thrusts were hard, his tempo was fast and you felt the coil in your stomach tightening faster than you ever had before.

He could feel the walls of your cunt clench around his cock, could feel the slick of your arousal staining his own thighs but he didn’t fucking care. His lips were red and raw from how hard he was biting down, his skin felt like it was on fire and his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. 

And yet, he never wanted to leave that moment. 

The sight of you bent over his fucking piano, your ass jiggling with every snap of his hips and your nails desperately trying to dig into the glossy wood like you needed something to grip onto, like you needed a lifeline to ground you. The way you screamed his name, the way you screamed for his cock and the way he thrusted deep inside you, hitting that spot over and over again until you could feel him in your stomach.

“So good f’me,” he groaned as his hand groped the meat of your ass in his palm. “You were made for me, cherie, my perfect fit.”

“Charles,” you choked out between moans, but your boy knew you better than you knew yourself.

“That’s it, baby,” he whimpered. “Come for me, let me feel you. I wanna feel how good I make you feel, princess.”

The nickname wasn’t used often, but it was more than enough to tip you over the edge. The noises you let out were borderline pornographic as Charles continued to fuck you through your orgasm, as he leaned over until his chest was pressed against your back and his cock was hitting a new, deeper spot with every thrust. 

His lips were on your neck, kisses placed on your skin between whispered French phrases of praise as he finally came, as he released inside you and felt your walls clench around him like you didn’t want his cock to leave you just yet.

You were panting and breathless, your cheek pressed against the grand piano as you let your eyes fall shut at the feeling of his gentle kisses and the soft touch of his hands all over your body. Your lips twitched as you heard him murmured ��I love you’ over and over again in different languages until he needed to pause for a breath of air.

“Je t’aime aussi,” you murmured back, your pronunciation still a little dodgy despite the time you’ve spent dating the Monegasque, but it made him smile nonetheless.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured as he ducked his head down to kiss your cheek. “I love you more than the piano, you know that?”

You snorted. “Well, I sure hope so after that.”

Charles grinned. “Nothing could ever compare to fucking you, mon amour.”

You peaked a look at your boyfriend. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” he confirmed.

“Not even round two?” You teased. 

“Depends,” Charles murmured as his fingers pulled at the hem of your nightgown you were still wearing. “Do you have any more surprises for me?”

“I did a lot of shopping while you were gone,” you told him with an innocent smile.

His eyes darkened. “Cancel all our plans for this weekend.”

You raised your brows. “Charles—”

“We aren’t leaving the house,” he told you as he squeezed your hips. “We need to make up for lost time, even if that means fucking you on this damn piano in every single piece you bought.”

“We need to eat, Charles,” you murmured, though the problem sounded just as dumb as it did in your head when he grinned at you.

“I’ll order you food in.”

“And what will you eat?” 

Charles’ smile only widened. “Jump up on the piano again and I’ll show you, princess.”

It was safe to say, neither your friends or family heard from you or Charles until at least three days later.

.

[moonstruckme]

hey if you don’t mind, I’ve been struggling with a lot of anxiety and it makes my chest hurt a bunch so maybe you could rwrite something like that with anyone you’d like, ofc if you’d rather not that’s totally.

have a wonderful day dearie

Thanks for requesting baby, I'm really sorry you're dealing with that! I hope maybe you're feeling a bit better by now.

cw: anxiety, chest pain

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Remus knows you mainly watch this show because he likes it, and yet he’s dozing off. After a long shift at the hospital, the clashing of swords sounds about as lulling as a thunderstorm outside the bedroom window to his tired ears, and his head slowly slumps backwards against the couch cushion. When snuggle closer to his side, head needling its way almost into his armpit, he thinks you’re trying to get him to wake up. 

“Sorry.” His voice comes out raspy, drowsiness clinging to his vocal chords like a paste. 

You pull away, looking up at him. “Oh no,” you murmur, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

The guilt in your voice has him responding instinctively, “It’s okay.” Remus drapes an arm across your shoulders, encouraging you back to where you were. “I was only resting my eyes.” It’s a flimsy excuse and you both know it, so he moves on quickly. “What’s up, hm?” 

“I was wondering if I could have a hug,” you say quietly, tentatively, your eyes not quite on his, “if that’s okay.” 

Remus checks himself before he can look too surprised. “Of course it’s okay,” he says, tightening his grip on you. 

Granted permission, you go all out. You turn your body into his, both arms wrapping tight around his midsection and face burrowing in the soft material of his sweater. Remus adjusts his hold to get a better grip on you. He brings his other hand to your head, cupping the back firmly. 

Asking for affection like this, so explicitly, is unexpected from you. It makes Remus feel like he’s just had a cup of tea, spreading warmth through his insides and leaving a pleasant aftertaste on his tongue. You hate to need him, but he loves to let you. He’ll take any chance to take care of you. He likes to think a secretive little part of you likes to be cared for, too. 

The exhaustion in his bones melts into something heavy and fond as he pets the back of your head. “Everything alright, sweetheart?” 

You hum into his armpit. “Just felt like I needed this, for some reason.” 

“Any reason’s good enough for me,” Remus half-jokes, dropping a kiss onto the crown of your head. “Did you have a long day, too?” 

“Not really.” Your voice dips into a lower register, disgruntled and bemused. You turn your face up so you can see him but don’t pull away, scooting closer to tighten your hold. “Nothing’s happened, I just feel a bit off, I guess. My chest hasn’t stopped hurting all afternoon.” 

He can see the regret in your expression when his eyebrows go up, and Remus laughs. 

“Oi, what’s that look about?” 

“I’m not trying to put you on the clock.” 

“No,” he says, smiling as he kisses your hairline, “You’re not, honey.” But he does reach for the remote, pausing the TV and silencing your background noise. 

Your eyes narrow. “You’ve got that serious look, though.” 

“That’s just my face, I can’t really help it.” Admittedly, chest pain worries him. Remus is prone to worrying about anything that ails you; it's where his job and his boyfriend duties collide. Still, he doubts you’ve been having a heart attack for the entire afternoon, so he’s not going to frighten you by telling you about the vast number of things chest pain can point to. “Where does it hurt? Can you show me?” 

You sigh and lean back, putting space between your chest and Remus’ side. “Sort of here,” you say, flattening your palm over your sternum. 

“Is it a concentrated pain,” he asks, “or more of an ache?” 

“More like an ache,” you admit. “It’s sort of, like, burning? But that sounds more dramatic than it really is.” 

He ignores the last part of your statement, setting his hand on your chest and pushing down gently. “Does that make it worse?” 

You shake your head, and Remus hums. You haven’t been coughing; he would have noticed. He works two fingers under your jaw. 

“What else feels weird, sweetheart?” 

“I’m not sure,” you tell him, starting to sound a bit raw. “I just feel…not right, you know? Is that bad?” 

“No, I don’t think so,” he says, letting his fingers drop from your pulse point. ”I think you’re mostly okay.” He uses both hands to pull you into his lap. “C’mere, baby dove.” 

You seem far from unhappy at being moved, pushing your face into Remus’ neck and letting him rest his chin atop your head. “What?” you ask. 

“Did you have coffee this afternoon?” 

“Yeah.” You sound cautious. “Why?” 

“And did you eat before?” 

“Remus.” Your warning tone is undercut by unease. 

He kisses your head in apology. “I think your chest hurts because you’re anxious, honey,” he says. “The caffeine probably made it worse.” 

You go quiet for a minute. Remus rubs your back, sorry for the invisibility of your hurt but relieved that its cause isn’t something more sinister. When you pull away, you’re frowning. 

“I don’t think it’s that,” you say. “It’s never felt like this before.” 

Remus feels his mouth slant in sympathy. “I think coffee without eating is already a bad idea, but then if you got anxious and we started watching a stressful show,” he tries to convey some apology in his expression, “it might have made your nerves feel worse than you’re used to.” 

“I think I’m only nervous because my chest hurts.” You blow out a breath. “It’s kind of a chicken and egg thing, yeah?” 

Remus hums, running his hand up the length of your spine. He can feel your heart beating beneath his palm. “Humor me for a minute?” 

You sigh again. It looks strenuous. “Sure.” 

“Breathe with me,” he instructs, folding you back towards his front. You go willingly, though you seem tenser now than before, your hands nearly rigid on his back. “In for eight.” 

He listens to be sure you’re doing it with him, feeling your chest expand against his own. He lets his palm lie still beneath your shoulder blades, sneaking a gauge of your heart rate. 

“Hold for eight.” 

Remus feels your nose press into his collar. He turns his lips into your forehead, holding his lungs at their full capacity and knowing that if it’s difficult for him, it has to be considerably worse for you. 

By the time you’re finished breathing out it's a relief for you both, and you turn your face up to his with a bit less skepticism. 

“That was hard,” you admit. 

Remus bites back an I-told-you-so, but he knows his smile must say enough of it when you roll your eyes good-naturedly. 

“Why don’t I change it to something a bit lighter,” he says, nodding towards the TV. “We can do more breathing during the commercial breaks, yeah?” 

You appear to consider this. “And we can keep cuddling?” 

Remus’ chuckle lures a smile out of you. He’s exceedingly gratified to see it. “That was never up for debate.” 

[petertingle-yipyip]

GUILTY AS SIN - KAZ BREKKER

//don’t ask me what this is dawg, i thought of it forever ago and wrote it half asleep and threw on an ending. leave me alone//

Pairing: Kaz x Crow!Reader

Word Count: 2,119

Summary: The little Songbird. A silly nickname for the Crow that likes to sing at the Club. When debuting a very personal, very specific song, the muse of that song - who isn’t supposed to know - is intrigued by the performance.

You were seated at the piano bench with Wylan while Jesper was bleeding fabric of color on the floor. You tapped your pencil against the notepad in your lap while Wylan played the same chords on the piano.

“I can’t get this chorus!” You groaned.

“What’s this song about? That Merchant’s son?” Jesper asked idly and you had to resist throwing your pencil at him.

“No, she’s writing about Kaz.” Wylan answered.

You whacked his arm with the notepad and he laughed.

“Just play the notes again.” You grumbled.

He was right, of course. Everyone knew of your crush on Kaz. It had started when you were younger and you figured you’d grow out of it. His cruelty seemed to guarantee it, yet he was kind enough to you. He was a very confusing man, especially as he grew into the feared Barrel Boss.

But still, your heart yearned and who were you to deny it?

You let your crush exist, burning under your skin when he was around. When you met his eyes in the crowded Club, your pulse jumped. When you two were partnered for a job, your nerves were electrified. When he spoke to you, you melted. Oh Saints, were you in deep.

Wylan, with a grin still plastered on his face, began the notes. You hummed along, finding the general flow of syllables.

“What if he’s written mine on my upper thigh, only in my mind?” Your voice drifted with the music and Wylan nodded along.

“One slip and falling back into the hedge maze. Oh, what a way to die.” Jesper added from the floor.

“I keep recalling things we never did.”

“Messy top lip kiss.” Jesper teased. He was lucky your legs weren’t long enough to kick him past Wylan.

“How I long for our trysts.” Wylan continued and you pinched him, making him yelp.

“Without ever touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?” You finished then squealed in delight. “I like that!”

“You should be more honest though.” Jesper said, standing and leaning on the piano. Your brows furrowed and he grinned.

You suddenly regretted his input.

“You should say something about wanting to bed him.” He laughed and you stood calmly. Wylan leaned out of the way and let you fully whack Jesper on the arm.

The boys laughed and you shook your head with a smile as you jotted down the lyrics you all came up with. You worked through the next verse with them and started a bridge. You adjusted a few lines in the chorus when it rolled around a second time, then found your favorite line.

I choose you and me, religiously.

You has chosen to be at Kaz’s side every time, without fail. You wondered if he noticed, then doubted he paid that much attention.

Later that week, there were no upcoming jobs to prepare for. There was no fight to ready yourself for. There was hardly any opposition since Pekka Rollins disappeared. So you found yourself, and friends, falling into your usual downtime routines.

Nina and Matthias playfully argued about something trivial. Wylan and Jesper made nonsense bets with each other, occasionally roping in Nina and Matthias, that usually ended with owing the other a drink or some treat. Kaz was nowhere to be seen, which wasn’t entirely unusual.

And you took to the stage.

Wylan had done several copies of the music for the few members of the band you recruited. While they played, you sang and lightly danced. You captivated the crowd, watching the women giggle and exchange glances at your lyrics. It seemed like they all had their own versions of that special type of crush.

The lyric change for the second chorus came up and you watched Jesper’s reaction specifically.

“My bedsheets are ablaze. I’ve screamed his name. Building up like waves, crashing over my grave.”

Jesper nearly spit out his drink and you grinned.

The grin quickly fell away and your body went ice cold when you noticed who had slid into the booth with your friends.

Kaz Brekker.

“I choose you and me, religiously.”

You finished your song and curtised to your applauding crowd. You smiled kindly before you hopped off the stage. Jesper was whistling loudly and waving

you over but you shook your head. You hid behind your hand to make your way through the dense crowd, making yourself scarce for the rest of the night.

Finally, though unsure how, you made it back to your room. The laces of your bodice had felt suffocating tight all night after seeing Kaz so as soon as your door shut, you pulled at the ends and took a deep breath.

You had sang in front of Kaz before. He said you had talent the first time he heard, and he was the one who offered you the stage whenever you wanted it. But singing that song in front him felt like you were holding a large sign that said “IM IN LOVE WITH YOU” with a bright red arrow pointing to yourself.

What else was he to think?

I dream of cracking locks = Kaz.

Without ever touching his skin = Kaz.

Every single lyric felt like an allusion to Kaz and you felt

stupider than ever.

You changed into something to sleep in and had just gotten the flush to leave your skin when a quick knock sounded at your door. You groaned quietly and flopped back onto your bed when you called for them to enter. You folded your arms under your head and stared at the ceiling as they came in. The door shut gently behind them, then a few seconds later, the bed dipped with their weight as they sat near your feet.

“If you’ve come to gloat about your lyric suggestion, I’m going to shove you off with my foot.” You warned, assuming it was Jesper.

You were wrong.

“Is that how you welcome all your guests?” He asked and you bolted upright.

You nearly collided with him but he seemed unfazed.

“I was expecting Jesper.” You admitted.

“He was very excited about your lyrics.” He nodded. “You gave him quite the ego boost.”

You groaned and fell back against your mattress again.

“Why are you here?” You asked the ceiling.

“Your song…”

“My song.” You sighed, closing your eyes in embarrassment and to brace yourself for his berating. “It wasn’t something you were meant to hear.”

“I assumed as much when you practically ran from the Club stage.” He agreed, tapping his cane rhythmically against the floor.

“Yes, well, I don’t exactly enjoy being mortified.”

“Though I’m not sure why you ran from me.”

Did he really not put it together?

You sat up on your elbows and gave him a dumbfounded expression. You doubted Kaz Brekker couldn’t figure out the truth behind your song, so you decided you’d play dumb too. The Saints themselves wouldn’t be able

to get you to outright admit to that song being very much so about Kaz, so there’s no way he would get it out of you easily.

“That song was very vulnerable.” You carefully admitted, watching for a reaction but getting nothing. “You weren’t supposed to know.”

“Seemed like you wanted someone to know.”

“Not specifically.” You mumbled. “I blame Jesper and Wylan. They helped me write it and then convinced me to sing it…”

He nodded slightly and you let out a sigh. You pushed yourself to sit up and crossed your legs in front of you. Kaz shifted slightly and intently looked at your expression. You had both lips between your teeth with your brows raised, waiting for him to say something.

“Did you like the song, at least?” You finally asked.

The corner of his mouth lifted into a small smile. “I’ve never heard anything like it.”

You refrained from swatting him with your pillow. Instead, you huffed and rolled your eyes.

“You do realize that could be both insult and compliment, right?”

That half smile grew a little wider and that time, you did hit him with the pillow.

“Jackass.” You laughed and tucked your pillow into your lap.

“Tell me.” He said. “You said ‘there’s no such thing as bad thoughts.’ Did you write that line?”

You nodded. “My sister told me that when we were little, before she was recruited for the Second Army… I was struggling with my first crush and she said that it was okay to think things about people. It mainly mattered what I did with those thoughts.”

“And who do you have thoughts about now?” He asked, his voice barely a whisper.

You pursed your lips and looked down at your scrunched pillow in your lap. It was the perfect opportunity to tell him, you recognized that, but that would mean telling him. The weight of the secret coming off your shoulders was tempting, but the fear of losing your current relationship gripped your heart tightly.

You two didn’t have the same closeness as you did with Wylan or Jesper. You could tell those two anything. Often times you did. But you and Kaz had an unspoken understanding to watch the other’s back. You never feared walking the Barrel or pissing someone off - unusually unintentionally - because you knew Kaz was there for you. In turn, Kaz knew he could depend on you for your part of the job or just your support for his death defying plans.

You were the first to agree to the Ice Court and you two had been an unexpectedly natural pair ever since.

“A man that I'll never quite get over, I fear.” You answered vaguely. “But I doubt I’ll ever truly have.”

“Then he’s a fool.” He said honestly, but the look on his face told you he hadn’t meant to say it.

“No.” You smiled softly. “It’s just… different. He’s different and complicated. I’d choose him and I if I had the chance.”

You were ignoring the fact that you did, in fact, have the chance.

“Complicated…” Kaz repeated.

“Among other things. But that’s one of the things about him.” You looked at your hands rather than him. “He’s clever and caring, but in a ‘I’d rather yell at you for being reckless than tell you I care about your life’ kind of way. And he does these subtle things to show he pays attention and he listens, but if you ever bring it up to him, he’ll deny it. He’s tough to get through to, but if you mean something to him, Saints, he’d burn Ketterdam to the ground to protect you.”

“And you feel guilty having these feelings for him?”

You looked up at him. “Not exactly… It’s more about whether or not I should feel guilty for thinking of him like that.”

“Because you think it's unrequited?”

“I’m almost sure it is. I’ve never seen him have feelings for anyone, except one woman, and it’s not the same with me.” You shook your head sadly.

“Y/N.” He hesitated.

Your brows furrowed. You’d never seen Kaz hesitate.

“You alright, Kaz?” You reached a hand for his arm, a gesture you did with the rest of the Crows without hesitation, then thought the better of it. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re wrong.” He answered carefully.

That answer cleared up nothing.

“About why he treats you differently.” He continued while staring at his hands and you listened quietly, trying to figure out what on earth the man was talking about. “It’s not because he doesn’t care. It’s because he cares about you and that frightens him. Last time he cared about someone, he still lost her. He doesn’t want the same to happen with you.”

“What are you…” You trailed off. Then it hit you. “Oh.”

His hand landed on your leg.

“How did you know?” You asked, not knowing if you should be excited or embarrassed.

Probably both. Both felt right.

“You weren’t exactly subtle.” He joked and you picked up the pillow to whack him again. “And Jesper told me.”

“Saints, that man can run his mouth.” You complained. “I’m going to stop telling him things.”

“Am I bad? Or mad? Or wise?” Kaz repeated your lyrics to you. “To have these feelings about you? To have these thoughts about you?”

“Someone told me there’s no such thing as bad thoughts.” You smiled slightly at him.

It’d be a trial to date Kaz. You always figured it would be, considering his temper and violent tendencies and touch aversion. But the look in his eyes, open and pleading, had you immediately choosing to try.

I choose you and me, religiously. 

Your smile grew a little wider when you felt his finger moving against your leg. 

M-I-N-E

[ak319]

Weird Yan Cousin x reader (Platonic)

//Warnings: Mentions of prostitution, human trafficking, kidnapping, weird behaviour but not incest, gore)

Your life had taken such a twisted turn for the worse this year, leaving you wondering if you were cursed. First, your parents died tragically in a fire that destroyed their home. Then, you found out your partner had been unfaithful. Since you shared an apartment, you had to move out, but they stayed, and the two of you were still arguing about selling it to split the money.

As if that wasn’t enough, you lost your job just three days after the breakup--allegedly for poor performance, which was completely untrue. None of this was your fault, yet everything seemed to be spiralling out of control. You were teetering on the edge when you received a strange phone call.

It was from someone claiming to be a distant cousin, Nova Salem. The name struck a chord--she was from your father’s side, the daughter of your uncle Ralph. But you had never met her or any of that side of the family. Your father had severed ties with them long ago. Ralph was only his half-brother, born from your second grandfather, Edmund Salem, whom you’d also never met.

Her sudden call made you feel uneasy, but you were desperate for help, and she offered it without hesitation. Pushing aside all the questions swirling in your mind--about your family dynamics, her abrupt contact, and the series of unfortunate events that felt like a row of dominoes crashing--you packed your bag. The next day, Nova's chauffeuse, Robyn, picked you up from your friend's place.

Robyn was an odd one, giving you mostly one-word, cryptic answers to anything you asked. What really threw you, though, was the route she took. You’d assumed Nova lived somewhere in the city, but Robyn just kept driving... and driving.

Now, here you were, standing in front of a massive estate in the middle of nowhere. You nearly jumped out of your skin when Robyn suddenly spoke from behind you.

"Let's get you inside, ma'am." Robyn's voice cut through the eerie silence as you gripped the strap of your bag, letting out a nervous chuckle. "Um, are you sure this is--"

"Yes, it's the Salem estate."

You glanced around, trying to keep your nerves in check. It could easily pass as a horror movie set, noting the distant tree line, the stormy skies, and the endless dirt road behind. Was this even the right choice? Panic started to creep in. What if she's not my cousin and just stalked my family tree to lure me here?! I am so stupid!

"Welcome, cousin."

Your eyes snapped forward to see a tall figure standing in the entrance, finally registering. Nova, no doubt. She stood taller than you, with short, thick black hair neatly styled, wearing a black turtleneck beneath a long cloak-like robe, paired with black pants...and bare feet?

Before you could even react, she closed the distance and pulled you into a tight hug, muffling your greeting and leaving you a bit breathless from the unexpected embrace.

"I can't believe you're finally here! You see this, Robyn?!" Nova exclaimed, her large hand gripping your head and shaking it playfully. "My little sister is here at last!"

Robyn merely nodded and silently took your other suitcase inside, leaving just the two of you.

"S-sister?" you stammered, taken aback. Her eyes gleamed even brighter, if that was possible, the intensity in her gaze at odds with her composed appearance.

"Indeed, my soror," she affirmed, her hands now firmly grasping your shoulders. "I never got the chance to feel the love of siblings, and with all the family drama and stuff, I was always left out. I never had the chance to have any real connection with family. You’re the only cousin I have."

Her words tugged at your heart, though you couldn’t shake the underlying suspicion.

"No other cousins at all?" you asked, cautiously.

"Nope. My mother was an only child. Anyway, let's get you inside." Nova kept her hold on you, gently steering you toward the entrance. Just before stepping in, she paused, making sure you took off your shoes in the porch. "Enter humbly," she said with a strange conviction. "We are born of the earth, and to the earth, we will return. It’s only right that we honour our origin, for soil should never fear soil."

What? The statement left you puzzled, but you decided to go along with it, stepping inside the dimly lit hallway.

Candles? Really?

"Um, why are the lights off?" you asked, your voice slightly shaky.

"Electricity? Oh, I forgot--you’re a city girl," Nova replied, her tone almost teasing. "I'll ask Robyn to have the switch on for your room--the fan, the lights---but the rest of the house operates without it."

"Why, though? In this day and age? Like, nothing at all?"

Instead of answering, she simply let out a low, eerie chuckle, leaving your nervous laugh hanging awkwardly in the heavy air.

"Let me show you your room." Nova's voice echoed down the dimly lit corridor, where candle flames flickered against the walls, casting long, dancing shadows. The mansion’s interior had an unmistakably gothic feel, with dark wood panelling, high arched ceilings and classic, aged furnishings. The air was thick with an old-world charm as if you had stepped into a place frozen in time. The paintings on the walls, though faded with age, exuded an eerie beauty, depicting somber figures mostly of a woman--always the same portrait of her--and forgotten landscapes

You stepped inside the room, expecting more of the same gloomy charm, only to freeze in disbelief.

What the hell is going on?

"Why is it… all… pink?" you asked, blinking at the sight before you. The walls were plastered with Barbie stickers that looked as vintage as the rest of the house. The bed was oversized and covered in frilly pink bedding, surrounded by plush toys that had seen better days.

"Isn't this what girls love?" Nova said with a wide, innocent smile. "Like little sisters?"

You spun around, trying to process everything. "Hold up. I just met you for the first time ever, so can you please stop calling me your little sister? We're cousins and barely even know each other." Your voice rose as you gestured at the pink explosion around you. "Also, do you think I’m 12?!" The moment the words left your mouth, you felt a pang of regret. Nova’s smile faded, and she looked taken aback. Guilt set in as you realized how harshly you had reacted. She had offered you a place to stay during a rough time. Maybe you could have been more understanding and patient, especially considering she provided you with a bed and a roof over your head.

"Oh my God..." For Nova, that was the most adorable thing she had ever witnessed.

"Um... I--"

"ROBYN! ROBYN!" Nova’s voice cut through the air, making you back away nervously. Her gaze remained fixed on you as she continued to shout.

"Yes, ma'am? How may I assist you?"

"(Y/n)..." Nova grabbed Robyn by the collar, shaking her with surprising force. "My sister--sorry, soon-to-be sister--just had her first tantrum! All thanks to you, Robyn, you absolute genius!"

What in the world--is she being excited or just passive-aggressive? You couldn’t tell.

"It’s okay! I mean, I like it... It’s good."

"You do? You don’t want another room?"

"Um, if... it’s available th--"

"No, it isn’t."

"...this is it then... I guess."

"Robyn, get the food ready. My cousin needs her evening nourishment."

"Aye."

They left you standing in the room, utterly dumbfounded. Everything about this day--and about her--was making you feel dizzy. The way she carries herself, the way she speaks--it’s all becoming a blur. Something in your heart warns that this is going to be a nightmare.

But at least you’re not in some serial killer’s clutches, as you feared before entering. Being an only child and living in such a large mansion might have messed with her mental health, but you hoped it hadn’t gotten worse than this.

The sudden flicker of the lights jolted you from your thoughts, making your soul feel like it had left your body. The room’s colour was now painfully vivid, almost too much to bear. Honestly, the dim glow of the candles was easier on the eyes.

You soon found yourself dining with Nova in the grand dining hall, the two of you beginning to learn about each other. Mostly, you listened to her recounting her adventures. It was impressive how many languages she knew and the places she had visited, though she seemed completely oblivious to modern slang and anything related to media, which you found a bit amusing.

"Anthropologist, huh? Isn't it boring?"

"Boring?" She cackled, her laughter echoing through the vast room. "Absolutely not! I get to travel, explore, and find fascinating things." Judging by the eclectic items scattered around the room, she was certainly telling the truth.

"You seem to have a fondness for skulls."

"Oh! Haha! Aren't they so symbolic in their own way? They are empty, yet their hollow eyes seem to gaze into the essence of mortality itself. Each one holds the silent echoes of a life once lived, a reminder of our own fleeting existence and the stories that we leave behind."

"Are they real?"

"I leave that to the admirer to decide. What do you think?"

"Fake or maybe both, judging by how much you’ve explored."

"You think I’d bring skulls from my adventures?"

"Umm..."

Her laugh interrupted you again. "You’re so naive, (Y/N)."

Just as I suspected.

"Anyway, what about your love life?"

"I don't feel attracted to the idea of being subjected to bodily fluids, particularly in moments of passion. " You felt your appetite slip away.

That’s a rather...unique way to say you’re asexual and single...?

"Cool. But doesn’t it get lonely here?"

"Loneliness isn’t something I mind. Besides, I’m not alone--I have Robyn and now you. A little-"

"Cousin."

"Indeed, a little cousin." You picked up your phone and then realized something. "Oh, I need the Wi-Fi password."

"Sorry, but that might not be possible."

"What?! Don’t tell me you don’t use Wi-Fi! That’s atrocious."

"You see, this technology that the youth have become so attached to has many malevolent effects. I cannot let you be subjected to that."

"What do you mean?! I need to find a job! And how do you do your own work?" Her calm demeanour remained unshaken as Robyn appeared behind you, slamming a newspaper down in front of you. The suddenness startled you. What is it with these people and their jump scares?

"This is today’s paper and your source for finding work."

"Are you kidding me? I need Wi-Fi for my job. I do half of my work online!"

"I’ll need to observe the signs this week. If they are favorable, you might get access. Farewell, cousin. Have a good sleep. Robyn, please escort her to her chambers." You clenched your jaw as she walked away. "WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?! WHAT SIGNS?! SO YOU DO HAVE WI-FI?!"

God, what is going on? Is this a fever dream?

You were absolutely enraged in the following days. Apparently, the signs were negative, which meant you were stuck with no FUCKING Wi-Fi!

"Maybe the signs will be positive next month."

Whatever that means. In the meantime, you faced a series of bizarre occurrences that only deepened the unsettling feeling about your stay here and made you question reality. Despite her insistence on not using electricity, the candles lit themselves as if by some hidden mechanism. You were certain she used Wi-Fi--how else would she manage her research and extensive travels?

Her behavior was equally bewildering. She walked barefoot, even in the muddy grass outside during the rain, and would spend hours out there.

Some events left you sleepless for nights.

You once saw her talking to a pillar in the lawn from your bedroom window at night. At first, you thought she might be on a call, but no. She was facing the pillar the entire time. And then there was the incident where she literally smelled your... period.

"Eat this," she said, offering you a bowl of literal pickles. You swatted it away.

"What the fuck, dude?!"

"It’s to relieve menstrual pains. Although not scientifically proven, it is a good remedy."

"I’m fine. AND HOW THE FUCK DID YOU DO IT AGAIN?!"

"Just a matter of having good senses."

In the evenings, she always visited you for tea, bringing her two black hounds along. Despite your protests, she continued to bring them inside. You hated how they always seemed to sniff under the bed, her dark, void-like eyes trained on them as if she wanted them to find something.

Wouldn't want her cousin hiding something, would she? Perhaps thinking she could slip away, unnoticed, back to her old life?

Due to the lack of Wi-Fi, you spent most of your time reading books and exploring the mansion, trying out the strange array of activities Nova had set up for you. She instructed Robyn to teach you various skills like shooting, wrestling, and knife throwing....? You enjoyed it though but yes, you were shocked to discover that Robyn wasn’t just a driver, chef, or butler but seemed to be some sort of retired hitwoman. She never confirmed nor spoke about herself, adding to the mystery.

Despite the chaos and strangeness, you found yourself adapting to this bizarre new routine, almost treating it like a vacation and unexpectedly lifting you out of your depression.

You tried finding jobs but with no success. Every time you found a promising ad, something mysteriously went wrong with the car. It always seemed to break down, as if on cue. The phone in the estate barely worked, with your friend's voice garbled into unintelligible fragments or the call cutting off entirely before you could get a full sentence in. It was as if the house itself refused to let any connection to the outside world slip through.

One day, you had had enough of watching Nova work on her COMPUTER in her study while you languished in boredom.

"Look, I appreciate your hospitality, but it seems I’ve actually found a job, and it's time for me to-"

"You haven’t," Nova said, her voice smooth but chilling as she stepped closer, her face half-hidden in the shadows. "Don’t lie. I despise liars."

"Nova, I’ve had enough of this. I’m sorry, but living here is overwhelming with all the bizarre restrictions, the eerie silence, and the lack of contact with anyone! I can’t stay here. I need to go out and find a job! I didn’t come here to live permanently."

"And you think you have a say in that, cousin?"

"Wha-" Before you could finish, a cloth soaked in a strong, suffocating chemical was pressed against your face. The world around you blurred and faded as you struggled to breathe, slipping into unconsciousness.

"You are not going anywhere, Duif." (dove, in Dutch)

You woke up to the unsettling sound of floorboards creaking and the ominous clinking of metal against metal. Your body felt unnervingly cold, and you soon realized you were bound to a chair with ropes.

"Awake, (Y/N)?" Nova's voice, as smooth and chilling as velvet, made your blood run cold. You shivered uncontrollably as you saw her standing a few feet away. Robyn was in another corner, methodically sharpening a row of gleaming knives.

God, no. This can't be happening...

"Please... Nova, what is happening?! THIS ISN'T FUNNY! Please!" You didn’t care that you were pleading and sobbing in front of this lunatic. Fear clutched at your heart, twisting it painfully. You regretted everything that had led you to this point. You’d already lost your parents, your partner, your job--was your life now slipping through your fingers as well?

"Shush. Don't be scared. I just want you to listen to me. And carefully." Nova said as she grabbed a stool and sat in front of you. Where are we even? Is this some hidden room? Your eyes darted around frantically, taking in the grim surroundings, chains hanging from the bloody walls, a nailed coffin standing ominously in the corner, a table cluttered with various torture tools that Robyn stood beside, and, bizarrely, a fucking jacuzzi in the corner.

"Listen, it's time I tell you the things you need to know. About me, this family and even yours. You see (Y/N), my father, Ralph Salem, he wasn't a good man. He was involved in all types of bad things. Especially regarding...women. I was a teen when I found out he was involved in trafficking girls, the reason he fucked around with lots of women and... young girls, simultaneously abusing my mother mentally and physically. When he caught her leaving with me, he killed her... in front of me. Imagine that, I couldn't do anything." She paused with a dry scoff, "You have seen that pillar right? The devil buried her under it. I couldn't stand it. I wanted to die but he kept me alive because I was his heir, with his fucking disgusting blood inside of me. So I waited, I became the perfect heir for him only so that I could kill him in the most brutal way...which I did," You whimpered at her dark chuckle as she wiped your tears.

"Do you know where you come in?" Nova's voice was icy as she continued. "I began researching you the moment I discovered your existence. I wanted some form of familial love, even after I convinced myself I didn’t need anyone." Abruptly, she rose and moved to Robyn, taking a freshly sharpened knife from her hands.

"Guess what I found? Your parents were my father's business partners at one point. You see these skeletons here?" She gestured to the grim collection. "These are the people I hunt, (Y/N)--the ones my father worked with, those entangled in this... industry. And I continue hunting them. So I did to your parents what I did to all of them. Robyn, show her."

The butler pulled a lever, causing a hidden closet to open. Inside, the bodies of your parents were revealed--half burned, half slashed, with their limbs gone, only torsos-making you scream in horror.

"The bodies at the crime scene weren’t theirs. I used my connections to save them for you--along with another surprise," Nova said, her voice dripping with cold satisfaction as she slid the door open further. There, your partner’s corpse was revealed, grotesquely nailed to the wall like a butterfly, their chest open and hollow, blood eagle...which Nova once told you about. Without warning, you threw up to the side, your legs trembling uncontrollably. You could barely breathe, each gulp of air shallow and shaky, and you felt the world closing in. Please just let this be a nightmare. Wake up (Y/n), wake up!

"Did I mention that I eliminate bad partners too? How could I let them live after what they did to my dear...cousin?" She stepped closer, the knife gleaming in her hand. You shook your head desperately, unable to form coherent words. With a swift motion, she cut the ropes binding you, forcing you to stand. Her gaze was fierce, unyielding.

"You, however , were innocent, unaware of your parent's past. So from now on, you are a Salem. You will live here, as you are meant to." Her gaze darkened. "This is your place, your family. And I won’t have you trying to run away."

You slammed the trunk door shut and turned to Nova, who was meticulously removing her gloves.

"He was quite the noisy one," she remarked with a nod. "Indeed, sestra. Though you did a commendable job tracking him, little nerd. Now, let’s head back. My favourite part awaits in the mansion."

Ah, yes, it was Wednesday--skinning day.

From a software engineer to an assistant to a serial killer cousin with an intriguing butler, you found yourself strangely enthralled by this new life.

‘I want this world to be rid of those like my father, who mirror him in even the slightest way, together with you, my dear cousin.’

(AN: I realised that Nova might have put her own childhood plushies in the reader's room, which tugs my heart😭my baby)

[yandere-wishes]

He's Just Ken

Summary: You're just Barbie, perfect on the outside, dead on the inside. He's just Ken, neither perfect on the outside nor on the inside. 

Author's note: I condone neither patriarchy nor matriarchy. But I do love exploring different forms of mental exhaustion and extreme emotional dependency.

Warnings: Mental abuse, dark mental headspace, mentions of suicide and self-harm (only if you read between the lines), yandere behavior, yandere Ken, 

Not every Barbie has a Ken. Not one for herself anyway. Every Barbie knows a Ken, but that Ken most likely belongs to her friend, or her neighbor, or one of the other Barbies. Not every Barbie has a Ken, but every Barbie knows a Ken. You know one too, one with sandy hair and ocean eyes. And a look that longs for something more. You know a Ken who keeps his heart from breaking by crossing his fingers and praying to the Malibu sun. You know a Ken who's only happy if a certain Barbie looks his way. Or rather you knew. This was before the world fell apart. This was before he destroyed it. 

Ken returned without Barbie and the universe began to crack. It's fine you thought. It's fine you hoped. Ken -That Ken, the one who waited on the beach for hours on end until his Barbie walked by- returned from the real world preaching sermons on how the Kens were better, superior, the rightful rulers of Barbieland. How they didn't need the Barbies, how they no longer needed to settle for being treated as anything less than perfect. How they needn't be number two any longer. Ken returned without Barbie and the universe wept. 

You've always known the real world was a messed up place. It had become evident when the thoughts started to creep in. That was years ago-albeit you'll admit you have no idea if Barbie years and human years aligned- years since you started to feel like a constant failure. Years since that harrowing voice began screeching endless dreadful thoughts into your cranium. Notions that festered your mind and heart, tiny maggots that chewed away at your soul. There was always something wrong and it was somehow always your fault. Then came the pain. Horizontal pangs that shot across your arm. Always in the same spot, always in a cluster of three. Barbies don't feel pain as intensely as humans, at least they're not supposed to. 

 You worried for your human back then. You truly did. But you were always too scared to leave Barbieland. Never brave enough to go find her. She's fine you hope...you doubt it though. 

You also refused to go see Weird Barbie. Too scared of being labeled as anything less than perfect. So long as these thoughts merely remained inside you and no outward defects began to show, you would be fine. You could just pretend like everything was as perfect as it always had been. 

Ken came back from the real world unscratched. Yet his words hit a chord within every other Ken. They began to take over. The Barbies were reduced to accessories. Pretty little things that clung to their lovers. Dressed in short skirts and maid outfits. Turned into what they weren't. 

Ken destroyed what once was perfect. Yet all you could think as you watch the pillars of your homeland cripple and your friends descend into madness. Was how utterly beautiful he was.

The world turned upside down. 

Barbieland fell.

Kendome rose. 

And yet as everything the Barbies had worked all so hard to build came crumbling down. As your friends and neighbors began to lose themselves and submit to a tyrannical patriarchy. You found yourself utterly unaltered. Your world had been destroyed long ago. This was just another calamity that you would fake your way through. It would be easy, a lifetime of practice finally paying off. Stay quiet, stay in the shadows, no one would notice.

No one was supposed to notice...

Ken found you on the beach one night. A day or two after the hostile Ken takeover. He walked up behind you out of breath as if he'd been running. 

The bonfire crackles, a warning, and a love song. Until now you'd only ever existed in his sideview. An afterthought as he impaled his heart and called it love. You had burned yourself in his rays and called it love. You're convinced neither of you knows what love truly is. The moon's rays dance as you two sit side by side. In the distance, you see Blue Mermaid Barbie and Mermaid Ken share a tender kiss. An unparalleled sight. 

Ken sits next to you. Eyes following your every move. Scanning every dip and curve of your plastic corpse. He's just Ken you remind yourself with an uneasy breath. He's just Ken, nothing to fear. Although you're not entirely sure if those old ideologies shine through. He's Ken but somehow he's become unstable at worst, flammable at best. Something radioactive ticks inside of him waiting to detonate. Waiting to make the world feel a trace of his pain. 

Ken's fingers intertwine with yours as waves of helplessness crash across your body. You were created to be ethereal yet all you see is perfection molded in the shape of Ken's face. He leans in, carelessly placing his chin in the subspace of your neck as he whispers. "I see the way you look at me" his warm breath tickles the shell of your ear. You flinch, in time with the breaking of the waves. "I know you want me" Reality blurs when Ken touches you. He pulls you between his legs as his lips kiss the back of your neck. His fingers run up and down your arm as if he's trying to memorize your shape, your soul, you. It's romantic you think but all you feel is puka shell shards stabbing your flesh. You know he's dreamed of this intimacy with the other Barbie. 

you wonder if in his eyes you are merely a ghost. One he resurrected with desperate love and a broken heart. You wonder if he sees her, feels her, wants her. Yet he'll settle for you. The next best thing. The other stereotypical Barbie. Somewhere along the line, your own voice sounds, foreign to you. He's talking, his voice is smooth like silk. Fragile like window glass after a bombing. He asks you something, something you've dreamed of for all so long. He asks you to be his bride wife. You agree despite how degrading it sounds. 

What once was a pink haven of fun and joy has now been turned into a mess of horses and black sunglasses. Barbie's dreamhouse is now Ken's Mojo Dojo Casa House. You feel like an intruder, like a traitor. You feel loved, wanted, needed. Someone once told you that truths can co-exist. It's all you can think to save yourself from going mad. 

There's an unspoken easiness that comes with being with Ken. The way he's always around. His hands never leave you, tracing stars on your arms, running through your hair. He wants his presence to be felt. 

"I like this" you confess one night as you rest your head on his arm. "I've always felt...less than perfect. Like I couldn't be good at anything like the other Barbies." Ken laughs and it feels like the stars have cladded you in their warmth. He pinches your nose with a soft smile. "I know the feeling," he mutters and you feel your heart crack. "But you don't have to worry about that. I'm here and so long as you're with me. We're both going to be perfect." You snuggle into his chest as you close your eyes. "Ken and Barbie" you sing, a mantra, a prayer. One for a better future. One for a happy life. 

You have a dream house. Had one at least. You sometimes wonder which Ken lives there now. You wonder if his Barbie feels your presence radiating off the walls and the floor and the heart-shaped night lamp you once treasured. You certainly feel Stereotypical Barbie's presence echoing from every corner. You see her ghost whenever Ken pulls you onto his lap to watch a horse flick. Infuriated and distressed. You wonder if she's angry because you didn't join the rebellion. You wonder if she's angry because she thinks you took Ken away. You see her ghost again, feel her between the pause of two breaths. She glitches and fades as you hide your face in Ken's mink coat. 

"I don't like being apart from you" Ken claims as he lays your body on top of his. One hand dangling off the couch the other curling your loose locks. To Ken a touch away feels like being galaxies apart. You kiss his chin and his cheek and his nose and finally his lips. It feels like a dream. One you refuse to wake up from. 

Ken is gold.

Unmetable and solid.A kaleidoscope of hope

He has so much potential rotting inside of him.

Ken is gold.

Beautiful and everlasting.

His value lies in how pretty he is. How good of an accessory he's willing to be. 

You wonder if he's sick of being gold. 

You felt Barbie's ghost again today. This time looming and aggravated. She wants her presence acknowledged. She has something she needs to say. Ken was out, one of the rare times you two spend apart. Something about a beach off and rock paper scissors. 

You wonder if a ghost haunting is their way of showing love. 

You wonder if the Kens starting a rebellion is their way of showing love. 

Barbie talks for ten minutes straight. You cling to every word, you forgot how much you missed the Other Barbie's voice. It's in the final beat of her sentence that you notice she's not a ghost. Not this time. This is Barbie, the girl who had been your friend since the day you left your box. "Help me" she pleads as she grabs your shoulders. "We need to fix this", you turn your head and smile a broken smile. "I can't" you confess. 

It's easy to undo brainwashing. Even easier to reinstate it. What Stereotypical Barbie and her friends can undo. You can simply redo. Even Barbies prefer ease, a few simple half-truths sung into the right ear at the right time. And the once normalized Barbies are running back to their Kens. You turn, in the rays of the golden sun, you see Barbie. Her eyes hold glimmers of unshed tears. She wears her betrayal on her pink sleeve. "Why" she whispers as her fingers reach out to hover over your heart before she retracts them. You think you may have burned her. You think she's afraid of being plagued by your depravity.

You feel like a traitor, like a monster. A creature made of pink lipgloss and shattered vows. should Kendom fall, you know your delicate dream life will fall with it. You stare into her eyes. And the words that leave your mouth feel so rehearsed, yet you swear it's the first time you've uttered them. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you both when you went through hell. I'm sorry I wasn't there when the world collapsed and you ran from the debris. I'm sorry I can't help you pick up the pieces and rebuild what once was yours.., ours. I'm sorry I'm so selfish". 

Immortal hearts are cursed with the loneliest beats. Maybe that's why the other Barbies never bothered to ponder their endless existence. Maybe that's why the Kens always clung to false promises of love. Maybe saying I love you is the same as saying I'm letting you go. Stereotypical Barbie has already reached this conclusion, you know this. For a fraction of a juncture, she looks into your eyes. Trying to reason and plea and hope all in the same breath. When you say nothing more her eyes shine with grief as she turns on her heels and runs for the hilled house. You reach out to her, yet only grasp the warm Malibu breeze. 

What do you call a person such as yourself? 

Coward...

That sounds about right. 

Ken kisses your neck, and it feels like lava sprinkling along your skin. You feel like a defeated soldier drowning in a sea of guilt. Survivor's guilt a voice echo inside your head familiar yet all so distant. A ghost from a past life or a current one unseeable to you. "I have it too" the voice replies. You wonder if it's the voice of an angel or a mortal girl. You don't tell him about the Barbie resistance or how easily they can reverse the brainwashing. You work best alone anyway. 

You hear the word death replay in the background as Ken bites a sensitive spot. A faint noise, a haunting whisper. You hear the word death and it sounds more familiar than the name Barbie that has rolled off your tongue every day since birth. 

Ken harbors you inside the once was dreamhouse like a forbidden secret. Sometimes the skirts feel too short. Sometimes the world feels too heavy. You always feel the eyes of the other Kens on you. You think Ken planned it that way to show the Ken world who you belong to. Just last week he took you to the beach. Both of you wearing matching pastel blues and silver earrings. Other Ken was there also adorned in pastel blue and silver earrings. You see the twitch in your Ken's jaw, the icy glare when Other Ken waves to you. "Let's go," he says, commandes really. He throws you over his shoulder and you're heading back the way you came. "I really wanted to see Mermaid Barbie..." You pout. "No no, you wanted to see a movie remember?" Ken corrects you, to be honest, he does that often. You're starting to doubt you even know your own wants anymore. 

Today Ken has you dressed in a pink and white dress. You remember Setrotypical Barbie use to love this dress. You run around the kitchen cooking a pretend dinner. You really want to go shipping, to pick out something you'd like. A rose pink Lolita skirt and a matching button-up. You really want to die. Although that's normal you always want to go shopping. You always want to die. You wonder if Ken will ever let you pick out your own dresses. You leave his plate in front of him as you loop your arms around his neck. You rest your chin on his head as he pulls you closer. Not picking your own clothes is a small price to pay for the intimacy you've craved for far too long. 

"Never has there ever been a girl as pretty" Ken whispers as he relishes in your presence. 

"Do you have any idea what you are?" He rasps, his lips hovering over yours. You're both sitting on the bed, watching the sun die for the day. 

Ken is a monster. At least that's what you're supposed to think. You have something in your mind something that squirmes around in what can only be described as reason. To call it wits and a conscious would be an overstatement. Lucide is a better word. Weak and brittle yet somehow still standing. Deep inside, your heart refuses to call Ken anything other than hero, savior, salvation. 

"I'm yours" it's the first truth that's left your mouth in a long long time. You cup his cheeks and kiss him with all the doom and gratitude that lies within you. And Wow Ken tastes like mint ice cream and shooting stars. Like dead dreams that lay on the tip of your tongue. He's the beach at night and the evermore gardens during the day. He's everything good and confusing and painful and sweet. Ken nibbles your ear, playfully, and coos sweet words into your soul. Spinning tales of how you'll be together forever. You soak in his presence, rolling his name around in your head. You keep your head filled with him before your own thoughts give you a heart attack. 

You're Barbie but now you are so much more than that. You're his Barbie. Ken's Barbie. Damaged yet simultaneously perfect. And he's perfect too, mesmerizing when the sun's rouge rays kiss his pretty face, bathing him in golden ichor.

You wonder if perfection and imperfection have always been in love. 

 Sometimes in the dead of night, you think of the little girl playing with you. Albit she isn't a little girl anymore, is she? Kids grow up. clawing and biting through the painful transformation. Sometimes it leaves their minds fragmented. Sometimes it leaves them less than whole. 

Judging by how long it's been, your little girl is grown up by now. You close your eyes and give Ken a final kiss before sleep overtakes you. You hope she's okay, even though you know that can never be true. Being "okay" doesn't seem to be a real thing in this universe. 

Because girls are broken and the universe knows this 

Because boys are broken and the universe knows this 

Because the universe does nothing. Just sits there and watches as life bends and breaks itself over and over again

Barbieland is broken too, imperfect and destroyed.

And so are the two of you. 

Yet in the end, it doesn't matter. 

For as broken as the world is the most important of things has been resolved. 

Ken has his Barbie.

And Barbie has her Ken. 

[worldlxvlys]

collide

matt sturniolo x singer! reader

warnings: smutttt, p in v, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, grinding

a/n: hope you enjoyyyy <33

“thank you guys so much for all the support and coming out here tonight” i said into the microphone.

the audience members replied with deafening applause and cheers.

i laughed into the microphone, still soaking in this unreal experience.

i had gotten about halfway through my set, and now was just taking a quick breather.

“i also wanted to give a huge thank you to my best friends, for always being there for me and constantly showering me with love and support” i said as i glanced over to the triplets.

best friends. well, two of them were my best friends. matt, however, was more than that to me.

we were dating, but we hadn’t told the fans yet, not wanting to deal with the hate that would most likely come with it.

but the fans aren’t dumb.

due to their insane attention to details, they were easily able to pick up on the feelings that matt and i had for one another. they just didn’t know that we’ve acted on them.

once i put out my first album of songs, titled chemistry, the fans quickly realized i was with someone. they had their suspicions, but i never confirmed that it was about matt.

most of the tracks on the album were love songs that i wrote over the years. they weren’t even necessarily for matt, i just wrote them whenever i was overwhelmed by my feelings for him and needed a way to get them out.

song writing helped me to process my feelings, and it just so happens that matt takes up almost every thought in my brain.

“i wouldn’t have made it this far without you guys and i’ll never truly be able to put into words how grateful i am” i said while looking at the boys in the VIP section.

in response, nick smiled and blew kisses while recording the interaction, like a proud mom at their child’s performace; chris did an awkward happy dance and screamed “we love you!” , and matt sat there with a lovesick look on his face and a shit-eating grin.

after a few more, we got to my favorite song on the setlist.

“this next song, literally just came out and is already doing so well, and i thank you for that” i was met with more applause.

after introducing the song, the first few chords played and then stopped, teasing the audience.

they went wild. after a few seconds, the intro really started to play.

MATT’S POV

i been knowing you for long enough

damn, i need you right now

she looks so good. her outfit was tight, fitting her in all the right places and accentuating her curves.

you can take your time, don’t have to rush

this might take us a while

she sounds incredible live. her voice is smooth as she effortlessly slides through the runs, never missing a note.

i left all the doors unlocked and you said you’re on your way

when you get here don’t you say a word, got no time to play

she might genuinely be a siren, luring me in with her seductive, yet somehow sweet and innocent-sounding voice. her tone is crystal clear and it almost makes me want to cry.

we can go all the time

we can move fast, then rewind

when you put your body on mine

and collide, collide

she starts to sway her hips to the beat, and i genuinely think i might lose it.

wanna see your body on mine

and collide, collide

her skin is coated with a light layer of sweat, making her body glisten under the lights. she looks like a goddess.

baby it’s all yours if you want me,

all yours if you want me

she looked directly at me when she sang this line, and the feeling of the intense eye contact went straight to my dick.

put it down if you want me tonight

she smirked lightly, no doubt enjoying how red my face was turning. she knows what she’s doing.

she made her way through the song, continuing to tease me. she would slowly run a hand down her body or lean forward to sing to the crowd, giving me a perfect view of her breasts.

god, they look like they’re gonna fall out of her top.

when she got to the bridge, i swear the sound of her voice alone almost made my eyes roll back.

i know that this is love when we touch boy

you got my heart

and can’t nobody make me feel like you do

boy like you do

the fact that there was so much tension between us, despite being so far away was driving me crazy.

it could be one of those nights

where we don’t turn off the lights

wanna see your body on mine and collide, collide

i could listen to the sound of her voice for the rest of my life.

i love it when she talks, when she laughs, when she sings, when she moans.

i swear when she hits certain notes, it almost sounds like she’s moaning. but no one else knows that, because i’m the only one who pulls those sounds from her pretty mouth.

those pretty lips, always soft and glossy, perfect for kissing.

by this point, my dick was throbbing as it pressed against my jeans.

said it’s all yours if you want me,

all yours if you want me

put it down if you want me

let’s collide

her head fell back as she finished the last note, basking in the endless amounts of applause she received.

her neck looks so pretty, i need to kiss it.

she looks up at me again, moving her tongue across her teeth.

yeah, she’s definitely doing this on purpose.

the further she got through her setlist, the more turned on i was.

her tits bounced when she jumped around during her upbeat songs.

at one point, she was full-on twerking. she threw her ass in a circle, her skirt riding up the slightest bit. i fully thought i was going to cum in my pants.

after she finished the last song, she began to adjust her skirt while she gave her closing speech. when she moved her hand, i saw the waistband of her panties peek through.

waistband, if you could even call it that. it became evident that she was wearing a g-string under her skirt.

i completely zoned out of what she was saying, too focused on all of the filthy thoughts that began to flood my mind.

before i knew it, there was another round of applause before she walked off of the stage.

suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

READER POV

after a few minutes, i heard a knock on my dressing room door.

i opened the door to reveal matt and i quickly pulled him in before closing and locking the door.

“hi baby” i whispered.

“hi my love” he said before placing a gentle kiss on my lips.

“you did amazing, baby. and you sound better and better every time you sing”

i looked down bashfully, the corner of my lips turning up into a grin. “thanks”

he placed his finger under my chin, pushing it up to look at him.

“ you shy now, baby? didn’t seem like it when you were shaking your ass on that stage”

i glanced at his lips before looking back up at his eyes.

“you liked that, baby?” i asked as i turned around, moving my hair over my shoulder.

i began to grind on him, moving my ass on his hard dick.

“fuck yes, baby. shittt” he groaned as one of his hands wrapped around my waist, the other moving to grab my boob through my top.

the hand that was around my waist moved under my panties, gently rubbing my clit.

“fuckkkk matt” i sighed out, my head pressing against the door.

his breathing got heavy as he rutted his hips against my ass, pushing his face into the crook of my neck.

“talk to me baby, please. gotta here that pretty voice” he choked out as his voice got slightly higher in pitch.

“ yeah baby? like the way my ass feels against your bulge? want me to twerk on you?” before he could answer, i bent over slightly.

my skirt inched up, exposing my ass and making his fully erect cock dig into it.

“fuck! you can’t do that, baby. i’m gonna cum”

“take these off for me” i said, pulling on his jeans.

he quickly complied, unbuckling his belt and pulling them off while i turned around to face him.

he swiftly picked me up, bringing me over to a vanity and placing me down on top of it.

my back was pressed up against the mirror, which was cool against my burning skin.

he brought his lips to mine in a hot, desperate kiss.

his hands crept under my skirt, pulling my panties off without breaking the kiss.

he smoothly pocketed them before collecting my wetness with his finger, using it as a lubricant to push his digit inside of me.

“shit, matt” i moaned out as he fucked me with his finger.

i reached down between us, stroking his length through his boxers.

he added another finger, stretching me out.

“oh my god, matt. so fucking good” my eyebrows furrowed as i leaned my forehead against his.

“gotta make sure my princess is nice and stretched, never wanna hurt you” he spoke between grunts.

i moved my fingers to the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down and watching his dick slap his stomach.

his tip was red and covered in pre-cum.

he removed his fingers from my aching pussy while i pumped him a few times, before guiding him inside of me.

we both groaned at the feeling of my walls squeezing him as i took him inch by inch.

he gave me a minute to adjust before thrusting into me deep and hard.

i screamed his name, probably loud enough for anyone outside of the room to hear.

“yes baby, lemme hear that gorgeous voice. god, i love hearing you say my name”

matt pushed his hips up into mine with full force, his hands on my waist to hold me steady.

“you feel so good wrapped around me like this baby. you’re so good” he whispered.

he pushed me into the mirror with each thrust, producing a loud thud each time it hit the wall.

the vanity shook under me as he kept up his relentless pace.

matt took my legs and hooked them over his shoulder, continuing to ram into me.

i felt my orgasm approaching, and i grabbed onto matt’s biceps, needing something to hold onto.

“matt matt matt, i’m gonna cum!” i yelled frantically.

“me too, give it to me baby. wanna feel you dripping down my cock” his words sent me over the edge.

with a final cry i released all over him, while he filled me up.

he thrusted a few more times, helping us ride out our highs before pulling out.

“god damn” i whispered out as we watched our juices spill out of me.

“you’re so fucking amazing” he said as he cleaned us up.

after we got dressed and made our appearances look somewhat presentable we stepped out of the dressing room.

“where are your brothers?” i asked with furrowed brows.

i pulled out my phone and saw a text from nick.

we’re going outside to wait. we can hear you freaky fucks from across the venue.

matt and i looked at each other and bursted out laughing.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

masterlist

tag list: @lovingsturniolo @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sturnspepsi @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @chrisdevora @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @rheaakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @abbie13sworld @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @sturns-posts @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf

[maknaeswrld]

here | h.js

wc: 3.7k

genre: childhood best friends to strangers to lovers; gn!reader; idiots in love; fluff; angst.

cw: mentions of marriage; in depth-ish depictions of panic attack; I think that's really it, please let me know

a/n: The Hannie POV nobody asked for and I wrote anyways bc I missed my first fic dumbass babies. if you'd like to experience the full story and haven't yet, start here

roadmap: starts in present; gives his perspective on the time just before and after losing contact; ends back in present (The SOUND + 5 Star era) ((yes it's been that long since I released the original story))

Felix comes bounding in, practically shaking in excitement as he grabs Jeongin and disappears just as fast. Jisung blinks at it, not really paying much attention, his younger members are always up to stuff, but curious about what had garnered Felix’s attention.

He chose not to think about it too much as he fiddled with his mic pack.

Until Jeongin and Felix came back with Jeongin buzzing with just as much excitement.

“Y/n’s here!” Felix shouts. “I just had Innie confirm it for me, they’re actually here! They’re sitting-” Jisung lost all ability to pay attention as his head whipped toward Chan, who was already pulling his shirt back on.

“Go inform the band, I’ll tell production.” Chan says, looking directly at Han as the others seem to fade to the background. “And do not do anything stupid.” Han nods and all but runs out of the room, grabbing band members as he sees them.

“We’re gonna do There during intermission.” He says, sounding as breathless as he feels. “And don’t worry, this isn’t gonna be a regular thing I just, I really need to perform it tonight.” His drummer just pats his shoulder encouragingly. 

“Don’t worry man, we’ve got your back.”

As the spotlight hits his face, he’s smacked with the realization that he has no idea where you even are. There’s hundreds of people in the stadium, thousands of eyes watching him curiously as he nervously clears his throat. The crowds have never affected him quite like they were in that moment.

“This wasn’t exactly scheduled, and I’m sorry about that, but I just talked it over with the others and with the band and we’re going to perform There for all of you tonight. This song is, well it’s really important to me.”

As the opening chords start, Jisung feels his heart in his throat as he prepares to sing, eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of you.

He hadn’t written this particular song, though there were plenty he had written for you, but when Changbin and Chan showed it to him, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was one that would resonate with you. He knew, or at least he very deeply hoped, that if you ever heard it, you’d think of him. When he had told them this, they agreed they’d perform it live should they ever find you in the crowd, should Jisung ever get the second chance they all wanted for him. 

They all knew he was in love with you, they knew before they ever even met you. Han Jisung has never been good at hiding his emotions, and when it came to you, it was almost as if there was nothing to hide because when they met you they could all see you felt the exact same way. 

What none of them could ever figure out was why you never told each other and how Jisung let you slip away so easily. It was like one day you were there as you always had been and the next you didn’t exist. No one knew why Jisung let communication dwindle to nothing, but they had all felt the loss when you fully exited their lives.

***

For as long as he could remember, Jisung had you by his side. He remembers playing in puddles and bathing together before it was considered weird. He remembers you hitting his bullies and getting suspended in elementary school, he remembers when puberty hit and he realized you were hot, and then later when he came to the conclusion you weren’t just hot you were also exactly who he wanted to spend his whole life with, in a non platonic way.

That realization hadn’t freaked him out as much as he thought it should have, he already knew he had never wanted you to leave him, so the addition of emotions his young mind couldn’t fully comprehend wasn’t that big of a deal. Not really. 

You supported him like no one else. You took care of him, helped him through his anxiety attacks, protected him even if he didn’t necessarily need it. He was young, he knew it’d likely mess up your friendship if he said anything, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that you would be his fairy tale ending,,, one day. If you felt the same. 

So instead of outright telling you how he felt, he started fishing for how you might feel. The joke of ‘are you in love with me or something’ quickly became an ongoing thing that you would both use when the other did something that resembled even the smallest bit of possible affection. It went from a way for him to see if you felt the same to a safety net for you both to use to say it without actually saying it. 

It was obvious to everyone, including the both of you, that the relationship went beyond friendship, but he never acted on it, too terrified of being wrong to risk it; and then later too afraid of pulling you into a world that you didn’t want to be a part of. 

As Jisungs fame grew, his need to keep you by his side both intensified and dwindled. 

In all reality, he was terrified of rising to fame alone, of having the spotlight on him and not being able to look to his side and see you. The thought of you not supporting him every step of the way, of not being with him, of losing touch and never being able to find his way back to you scared him more than anything he’d ever faced. But on the same hand, he wanted you nowhere near the spotlight. 

He knew the risks that come with the industry, and he knew how much worse it could potentially be if people thought you were romantically involved. The music industry isn’t always the most pleasant and he knew it, you knew it, so as much as he despised the idea of losing you, the thought of you losing yourself by following him seemed so much worse. 

Jisung wanted to always protect you, keep you from the dangers and toxicity of relations of any kind with an idol. He was torn in half about it. He wanted to be selfish and keep you close, but he needed to keep you away. He knew the boys would take care of you if he had tried to keep you close, he knew Bang Chan would never let the company dictate your life in any way, but the risk far outweighed the reward at the time. Jisung didn’t know what he would do should he ever have to watch you get dragged into a lifestyle you never wanted.

When you told him you were moving to America for your promotion, it was as if it were the answer he didn’t know he needed. Between the timezones, him and the members getting busier, and your new work schedule, losing communication all together wouldn’t be too difficult.

The thought of purposely losing contact with you made his stomach twist horribly, guilt riddling him, but he had to, it was the only way to keep you safe. The only way to keep you untainted by the dark side of the world he threw himself into. 

He didn’t bank on his members caring for you so much, making it drag out longer than he anticipated, asking when he was going to call you so they could steal his phone to talk to you themselves. They would ask him why you stopped calling every night, to which he’d shrug and pretend he hadn’t silenced your number. As they got busier, the thought of you slipped further and further from everyone's minds, and by the end of your first year in America, it was as if you didn’t even exist.

His heart ached at every little thing that would bring a reminder of you to his mind, from seeing your favorite flower to trying a new restaurant and wishing he could share it with you. You were a ghost that haunted him in everything he did. Every song he wrote was a story of you or to you. 

The members never pushed him to try and contact you, but he sometimes wished they would, that they’d force his hand and call the number he wasn’t even positive belonged to you anymore. The closest anyone ever got into making him remember you was when one of the members would buy something that reminded them of you. Between the eight of them, there was an entire bookshelf in each dorm dedicated to gifts they should have been giving you throughout the years, although not a single one of them ever acknowledged that being the case.

Han wished they’d bring you up, he wished they’d force him into remembering you and everything he had, everything he could have had. 

It was shortly after the release of NoEasy that he’d bought the ring. He was out shopping with Jeongin and Hyunjin when he saw it, and all he could see was it resting on your hand. He’d purchased it and stashed the small box carefully away so there could be no possible pictures spread, and therefore no rumors. 

Jisung never truly believed he’d see you again, part of him might’ve even hoped he’d never see you again, it’d be easier to suffer in his choices than it’d be to try explaining them to you. 

But a much bigger part of him couldn’t leave his apartment without that ring. After buying it that day, it’d taken up permanent residence in his bag, never once separating from his side. Changbin had laughed after seeing it the first time.

“What, do you plan to just drop to one knee and pop the question the second you reunite?”

Jisung’s cheeks turned bright red at the teasing. 

“And what if I do?”

Changbin just looked at him like he was his own special kind of stupid and was wearing a giant sign that announced the fact. 

Sometimes, when the studio was empty and the hour too late for any human being, Jisung would let himself dwell in the memories of the past, trying to remember how it felt to have you in his orbit, your gravity keeping him on his axis. He’d let his mind drift through the memories that he typically kept tucked away. 

Thinking of your smile, your shared inside jokes, the way you’d loved him so hesitantly for so many years, both eased his heart and made it contract with regret every single time, but it’s also where so many of his songs started. He was an emotion writer and you were his favorite emotion.

As the years passed, he grew more confident in the fact that he’d successfully run you off. The ring remained in his bag, but was handled less. The songs were still written, but not as often. He was comfortable in the fact that you were good and gone, that he would never see you again.

Until that was no longer the case.

~~~

As the song came to an end and Jisung still hadn’t been able to find you, he tried to keep his shoulders straight. Tried with all his might to keep a semblance of a smile on his face. But he knew he wasn’t successful when Chan grabbed him and gently directed him backstage once again.

“Sungie, I really need you to come back to us, okay? Y/n or no Y/n, we’ve still got a job to do and getting into your head is just going to take you further away.” Chan, always the voice of reason, could hardly hide the concern clouding his eyes and voice. Han hated making Chan worry about him, especially in the middle of shows.

“You’re never gonna find them and get them back if you don’t get out there and keep trying.” Seungmin smacked him on the back, shoving a bottle of water into his hand and continuing past.

Taking a few anchoring breaths, Jisung quickly changed into the next stage's outfit, let the make-up staff do their job, and finally found his way back out on the stage. 

He never stopped searching. His eyes constantly looking over every single face he could see from the stage, begging his eyes to finally pick you out of the crowd. Stomach moving further and further up into his throat the longer he went without laying eyes on you. And then Minho laughed.

There weren’t many sounds that drew Jisung’s attention quite as fast as a genuine laugh from Minho, the noise caught him off guard and pulled him in his direction instantly, a genuine smile already making its way onto Jisungs face.

Han threw an arm over Minho’s shoulder, a grin splitting his lips as he lifted his mic for his upcoming part, before Minho shoved him into a downward spiral of losing all track of his surroundings.

“Straight ahead, about eighth row maybe.” His friend nodded slightly, and Jisung’s eyes were scanning the direction, instantly finding yours. 

The world didn’t stop, it didn’t go quiet or fade away entirely, but Jisung felt like it should have, like finally seeing you again was everything he needed in that moment and the rest of the world could find something else to do as long as you kept looking at him.

Minho’s hand squeezing Jisung’s side roughly snapped him back into the reality of the situation though. The rest of the world wasn’t going to just leave right now and the major choreography was coming up. He couldn’t help smiling at you again before getting ready to continue doing his job, barely recognizing that he completely missed his part.

After having finally found you, he couldn’t stomach losing sight of you, fearing the second he stopped looking at you, you’d vanish. As if he’d made you up. It caused plenty of mess ups in both choreography and lines, but by the time the concert came to an end, he was convinced you really, truly were right there.

After saying his goodbyes to Stay, he rushed to the closest member of security he could find and begged for him to go get you, giving him your name and approximate location. The energy of a good show was an adrenaline high unlike any other Jisung had ever experienced, the excitement coursing through the group aided with the joy of knowing you’d been in the crowd. 

Jisung realizes maybe too late that he should’ve asked if his members were okay with him pulling you backstage, if they wanted to see you and get to know you again as much as he did. He hunts down Chan to ask, albeit too late for his no to have any real effect. 

“If you hadn’t sent someone to find them, I would’ve done it myself. You’re crazy if you think we were going to let them leave without trying to reconnect. We all missed Y/n too, you know.”

Chan meant to be comforting, but it had the reverse effect. Jisung knew his members cared about you too but he’d never really stopped to think about how much him pushing you away may have affected each of them. 

Had the decision been completely selfish? Had he caused pain to everyone important to him for nothing if you accept the invitation and come backstage? In the end, Jisung knew blocking you out had been selfish, he knew that he should have left it to be your decision to make, that if you were going to leave it should have been because you wanted to not because he made you. If he hadn’t, would you be on tour with them right now? What would be different if he had talked to you about his fears instead of just choosing to act on them?

The further his brain went down that thought, the more he had to pace to try and keep his heart rate somewhat steady. He avoided messing with his hair, knowing that his stylist would chew him out for pulling it again, but damn it did he want to. The air felt too thin, the lights too bright, he hadn’t just hurt you, he’d hurt his band too. He hurt every single person he wanted to be the best version of himself for, every person he never, ever wanted to hurt.

“I need you to breathe for me Sungie, deep breaths. Can you follow my breathing?” Chan didn’t try to touch him, just hoped he listened while watching his friend spiral. “That’s it, there you go.” Chan could feel his whole body shake with relief as Jisung remembered his breathing techniques and started to calm down, even if only slightly.

He slowly reached into his pocket, fishing out the box Jisung insisted on taking with him everywhere. Gently, he reached out to place the box in Jisung’s shaky hands.

“I’m gonna go in there now. If you need me, you can send one of the guards in for me, okay? But remember, that is your best friend in this whole world in there. You’re going to be okay.”

Jiusng hugged him tightly before letting him go. He opened the box slowly, staring at the ring he’d picked out so many years before, his heart in his throat looking at it.

He snapped the box shut again, shoving it deep into his pocket, out of sight as if the box had burned him, eyes moving to the ground as his pacing started back up, Chan’s last words on repeat in his head. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s just your best friend. Your best friend in the whole world that you’ve been out of touch with for years. You’ll be okay. It’s not like they wouldn’t want to see you. Oh my god, what if they don’t want to see me.”

“Han Jisung, would you stop rambling under your breath and hug me already?”

Han’s head whipped up, eyes wide, and for a moment all he could do was stare at you in shock, all he could think was that you are really here, truly in front of him and actually demanding a hug. 

And then he rushes towards you, pulling you into a hug so tight, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. He sort of is.

“I missed you so much.” Jisung whispers, his voice watery even to his own ears, likely from his earlier breakdown.

You hug him back with just as much strength, clinging to him and willing away tears of your own.

“Careful, it almost sounds like you’re in love with me or something.” You try to joke, your voice just as unsteady as his.

Everything Jisung had ever thought and never said, every song he’s ever written and every night he’d stayed up remembering you and all the times he could have told you flash through his mind. His heart ached. 

“And what if I am?” He whispers. He could feel your breath catch in your throat. Tears still threatening his lash line.

Before you can say anything, he starts fumbling for his pocket before pulling out a small black box. He takes a deep breath, not bothering to try and decipher if it was a good idea before sinking down onto one knee, his mind fearful but determined as your eyes widen in shock.

“Because I am, ya know? I always have been. You’ve always been my ending, Y/n/n. And I had promised you once that you’d be stuck with me for the rest of your miserable life, and that I’d put a ring on it if it meant never losing you. Well, then I did lose you, and now that you’re here, I don’t intend on ever letting you slip away again. So, marry me, and let me spend the rest of my life by your side, because I joke about your miserable life a lot, but I know for a fact how miserable life is without you and I don’t want it.”

Jisung knows you better than he knows himself sometimes, but he’s never been good at dealing with you crying. But before he could put the ring up to attempt to console you instead, you drop to your knees in front of him, nodding as you grab his face and pull him in for a kiss.

Your lips are salty, likely from your shared tears, and his are a little chapped, but they meet yours just as eagerly. His heart swells with the utter completeness of it all, as if this is how it always should have been.

You both pull apart for air, Jisung leans his forehead against yours as he grabs your hand to slide the ring into place, the sounds of whooping and hollering not too far off. 

Jisung is unsurprised to see all of the Kids watching, but he can’t help but blush at the four strangers grinning from ear to ear accompanying them.

He blushes and you grin, tears still flowing as he wraps you up into his embrace, thrilled to finally have his best friend in the whole wide world back and beaming proudly as you showed off your ring to two of your apparent friends.

“I love you.” Jisung whispers as he helps you stand up after a few moments to recollect himself.

“I love you too.” You whisper back, leaning further into him and he swears he could live off of just hearing those words from you and feeling you in his arms.

“Sweetie, you’ve got some major explaining to do.” The tiny blonde girl glared at you.

“And so do we. Thanks Hannie.” Seungmin grumbled, being unable to hide his smile even as he said it.

Jisung looked at you, wearing his ring, back in his life where you should have always been, and despite the exhaustingly long conversations and apologies to come, as well as the amount of explaining Chan is probably looking forward to with the company, Jisung couldn’t find himself to feel anything but pure, unadulterated joy right in that moment.

thank you for reading! reblogs and comments are always always appreciated, I love to hear thoughts and opinions!🫶

[tang3r1n]

still on my shitty dabi kick and i think i struck a chord with @mostlyheinous so here’s random ass shit i think a deadbeat bf dabi would do

18+, hard dubcon, gaslighting, manipulation, smoking, forced drinking/taking of drugs, dabi purposely makes you have a bad trip on acid, unprotected sex, anal (referenced plus a thumb in the stink) i’ll add more idfk

kay first off, along the smoke vein, dabi would absolutely threaten to put his cigarettes/blunts out on you if you keep crying (openly, he loves watching you cry all quiet n sniffly)

he’s also no doubt changed you around the apartment with bugs/gross shit just to make you squeal and beg him to put it away

“baby it’s jus’lil beetle~” while waving a fucking 4in long roach he found outside in your face, “gimmie a big, sloppy kiss and i might throw Jeffrey away, as much as it pains me to.”

constantly making you exchange physical/sexual acts for practically basic respect

“show me your pretty tits and i’ll let you go hang with those stupid cunts— no i’m not gonna stop callin’em that, they’re dumb cunts.”

loves making you suck him off right after work, still all musky from the day, his cock even more salty from sweating all day (scent/smell kink is my fav im SORRY.) plugging your nose and jutting his hips out harshly to make you gag and cough around his cock, the sinfully wet noise making him groan out a chuckle as he watched you cringe

any and all attempts to change his behavior end with gaslighting and fake hurt plastered on his face as he breaks your fucking back in bed

“ungh- you’re such a fucking good girl f’me.. i love your, pretty, im so sorry you feel the need to accuse me of such things- god squeeze my dick like that again, fuck yeah- i..uh- gonna make you cum so hard, show y’how this noisy cunt ‘sall mine..”

steals your panties and jacks off with them right fucking in front of you, dick swinging and balls out as he strikes himself with your panties pressed against his face. his bright ass blue eyes piercing into you while he noisily huffs in the smell of your pussy and licks up the crotch of them like the perverted degenerate he is

oh and when you try to break it off, setting him down to explain that he is just..too much.. for you, he goes ballistic.

grabbing you by the hair and dragging you to the bedroom, placing you down still surprisingly softly as he ferociously tears off your clothes and starts eating you out like his life depend on it (idk to him it might, he’s a loser)

once he’s got you all whiny and soft after a few mind-shattering orgasms, he’ll start coping and trying to slip you back into the haze of his glaringly obvious manipulative love

“don’t say stupid fucking shit, pretty, jus’cuz y’on your period or what-the-fuck-ever is going on in that lil head don’t mean you can treat me like this.”

hell chastise you while he fingers you, fingers blurred as he finger-fucks you dizzy, fishing his cock outta his dirty jeans and scoffing as you whine and cry again, shuffling up the bed

he pulls you in again by your ankles, a scarred hand quickly silencing you as it softly pressed against your throat, a silent threat, as he spoke patronizing words to your sex and lust filled mind,

“just be my good angel one more time, pretty,” he forces a crack in his voice, flexing his throat so he sounds tearful and sad, “i just..i love you s’much, wanna show my pretty girl, my everything, how much she means t’me,”

the second you nod he’s grinning manically and flipping you over, forcing his cock into your wet cunt and rabidly humping against your ass, dick barely leaving and inch before pumping right back in as deep as it’d fit.

he’d spit on your other puckered lil hole, making your cry and squirm yet again as he pushes his thumb against it, gut burning with lust and a perverted sense of affection

“no- nononono angel- calm it down, i jus’wanna feel your cute ass ‘round me, promise it’ll just be my thumb— yes pretty i pinky promise

(he ends up cumming in your ass i don’t make the rules mb)

other than failed breakups and gaslighting, dabi also likes getting his pretty wasted

like… really wasted.

dabi’ll give you shit after shot, even making you sit pretty for him while he spits Jack Daniels into your awaiting mouth

he spikes literally all drinks he makes you and it’s so obvious but he just tells you it’s to ‘loosen your bitchy ass up,’ but in his own special, joking tone.

cut to you blowing cum bubbles while you suck him off, completely drunk, head dizzy and body fuzzy as he records you almost mindlessly salivating over him.

“say hi to Shigaraki f’me, pretty, little bastard is gonna love seeing you all horned up and slutty~”

he also shotguns his blunt/pipe/bong hits to you—never lets you hit in your own

dabi loves it if you sit on his lap during this too, a rare domestic scene of you both just vibing and grinding, soft praises and touches that feel unreal coming from him

the he ruins it by slapping your ass and making you cook him dinner

wait i had a funny idea hold on

“babe can we please go see my momma today— it’s just that it’s m’birthday and you made me skip it last year..”

“pretty, that bitch hates my ass, why would we go see someone who hates us?” (notice he says ‘us’ anyways)

[cut to momma glaring at dabi the entire time they’re over and throwing shoes at him once he opens his fucking mouth]

kay that’s all for now ig

wait

sometimes when you’re falling asleep you can hear him obsessively rambling and mumbling abt how much he loves you, how disgusting everyone else alive is, how he’d kill anyone who dared talk to-LOOK at you, how he thinks you’re such a soft, beautiful little thing that he just wants to protect but oh how he fucking loves ruining your angel wings.

[crashandlivewrites]

@soapsgf and I were feeling gay so we wrote lesbian fics for each other <3

Pairing: fem!Ghost x fem!reader (or rather, stone top butch Ghost x pillow princess reader)

CW: MDNI 18+ content, NSFW, cunnilingus, mention of a strap, relationship insecurities, Ghost communicating (?!?!), use of daddy one (1) time

Word Count: 2.1k (this was meant to be a drabble oops)

You were cuddled up on the couch late at night in your small flat you shared with your girlfriend, Simone, whenever she was back from deployment. Your hands had slithered their way underneath her jacket and shirt, leeching the warmth from her body as she had one of her muscled arms thrown casually over you, keeping you tucked into her side as her fingers traced mindless patterns over your body.

Playing on the tv was a reality show you enjoyed, yet tonight you weren’t really paying attention to it. Simone had even chimed in a few times, to show her interest in the show for you, but her statements and questions remained unanswered. It wasn’t until something ridiculous happened that would normally have pulled a barking laugh from you that she decided enough was enough.

Switching the tv, she placed a hand over your shoulder, shaking you lightly.

“You gonna tell me what’s been rollin’ in your head since I got home or not, pretty girl?” Her voice startled you, breaking you out of your daydream as you pulled back from her, furrowing your brows.

“What? I’m sorry, wasn’t listening.”

“Clearly.” She gave you a pointed look. “Wanna know what’s on your mind, lovie. You haven’t been right since I got back.”

“Nothing. Just tired. Been a long day.” You tried to dissuade her, waving your hand as you reached over her to take the remote, only to my stopped by her firm fingers on your wrist.

“I’m not stupid, nor blind, love. You haven’t been yourself. You’ve been quiet.”

Cursing inwardly, you looked away from your overly observant girlfriend, trying not to show your discomfort. Of course, she’d noticed the small things that no one else would. Your brows furrowed and you wrung your fingers as you tried to search for the right words. Simone just sat there, a reassuring hand against your shoulder, letting you know she was there to listen. She always was.

“It’s stupid… really, I don’t know why it’s affected me so much.” The hesitancy was evident in your voice, and her eyes narrowed slightly.

“It’s not nothing. It’s got you in a tiff.”

“It’s…” You faltered, eyes flicking around the room as you were unable to look at her. Only when her hand reached out to grip your jaw did you force yourself to meet her gaze and continue. “It’s about sex.”

“What about it?”

“I just… don’t you feel left out?” Her brows knitted together, and she angled her head, signalling for you to continue. “I feel like I’m always just lying there when we have sex. I do nothing. You’re doing everything, Simone, including getting me off but not yourself. Don’t you hate that?”

Her hand went soft on your jaw as her thumb stroked your cheek, eyes boring into yours.

“What stupid video have you seen now?” Blinking, you cocked your head and looked at her in bewilderment.

“How did you—”

“Doesn’t take much. Let me guess, some wanker of a broad on tiktok made a video about how pillow princesses are lazy and should do more work, hmm?” Simone leaned forward, getting into your space as you stared at her, dumbfounded.

“But isn’t it true?”

“I think you’re missing the point of the term, princess.” She elongated the term of endearment as her hand ran down your neck. “I like making you feel good. Just you. Besides, the way you sound when you come, who wouldn’t want to hear that?”

Your face heated and you tried to push her away in protest as she smiled, flashing a toothy grin before running her tongue along her lips. Though her words struck a chord with you, there was still some lingering doubts swimming in your head.

You could count the total amount of times you’d gotten her off with your own mouth or fingers on one hand. The queasiness in your stomach, however, didn’t fade with her reassurance.

“Do you not like me in that way?” Your voice was small and filled with shame, as if you already knew the question was stupid, but you couldn’t stop the feeling from clawing its way up. Simone’s eyes softened and her long fingers ran along the back of your head.

“Lovie, it’s not like that. You know it takes me a lot to want to be in the mood to receive. It’s got nothing to do with not wanting you. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“But your job is stressful! Surely you’d want some release when you come back?”

“You’re my release, princess.” She whispers, voice lowering as she leans in. “The way you’re so obedient for me, how you spread your legs so eagerly, how wet you get when my fingers barely graze your skin… you’re a fucking sight, princess. And you’re mine.”

The drop in her tone sent a rush of arousal through you. Pursing your lips and squeezing your thighs together, you whine in protest.

“I want to please you!”

“You do fuckin’ please me, lovie. The sight of you on our bed, legs spread open, begging for me to touch you like a good little slut. My good little slut. Makes my head spin. Hearin’ you scream my name as you squirt over my face? A fucking godsend.”

Simone was now shuffling over the couch into your space. You felt the sturdy armrest pressing into your body as you leaned back, face heating and heart thumping. True to her words, your legs were unconsciously spreading for her, accomodating her broad frame as she nestled between your thighs, her large hands caressing your pliant one.

“Simmy…” Your voice was barely above a squeak as she cocked her eyebrow up at you, the smirk on her face deadly.

“What is it, my little princess? What do you need?”

“You.” Simone hummed, shaking her head.

“More specific, princess. You know the rules.” Her hands slid up your thin shirt, tweaking at your nipples and drawing a gasping moan from you.

“Mouth… want your mouth Simmy please.”

“My mouth where?” She pressed, squeezing your tits now in her large hands as her mouth descended on the bare skin of your stomach, pressing soft kisses as she waits for you to reply.

Moaning both in delirious pleasure and frustration, you managed to lift your head up and look down at her with a frown.

“You’re so cruel.” You pouted accusingly at her, and she laughed darkly in response, but she didn’t make any further movements. Not able to resist any longer, you tilted your hips up so they were closer to her mouth. “Want your mouth on my pussy and want you to make me come.”

This time, your girlfriend grinned wickedly, adjusting you both so your legs were thrown over her muscled shoulders.

“My good fucking girl, using her words. Gonna reward you for that.” And she did.

Her lips immediately latched onto your clit after pushing your underwear aside, dragging her tongue up your slit as she moaned, fingers digging into the plushness of your thighs. Moaning into your cunt, she moved down, tongue lapping over your wetness as your fingers wound their way into her hair.

She usually buzzed it short whenever she left for the field, then let it grow. Right now, it was just long enough for you to tug at with your fingers as you cried out her name. Simone had always been godly with her mouth, and tonight was no different.

Tonight, she was taking her time with you, pressing soft kisses over your sensitive flesh, her tongue sliding languidly up your cunt, delving into your wet hole and groaning at your taste.

“So fuckin’ wet f’me lovie. Practically dripping on our couch.” Our couch, she says. You grin amidst the pleasure, thinking about how quickly Simone began to call your home hers as well.

Sucking your clit back into her mouth, she reached down so the pads of her fingers were prodding at your soaked entrance. Clutching at her hair, you rolled your hips, eager to feel the delicious stretch as she pressed her long fingers into you. But she didn’t. Instead, she clicked her tongue and pulled back.

“So greedy tonight, princess. What was all that talk about earlier? Wanting to do all the work? No sweets, you belong here, beneath me writhing and moaning like the little slutty princess you are.”

“Simone.” You whined, rolling your hips once more as your cunt throbbed in need.

“Look at you.” She cooed, grinning salaciously as her eyes raked over your body, clothes having been shoved haphazardly out of the way. “Looking like a proper slag now, princess. Cunt all wet and swollen, perfect tits out on display. Should take a photo.”

Your lips parted at the suggestion, the debate waging in your head.

“Is that what you want?” She hummed thoughtfully.

“Probably not. As much as I’d love to show you off and brag to the blokes that you’re a fuckin’ babe, you’re mine, princess. And only I can see you like this.” To back up her words, Simone’s teeth dragged possessively along your inner thigh, wringing out another moan from you.

Returning her attention to your clit, she flicked it with the tip of her tongue, the barest stimulation still sending shivers up your spine and making your thighs clench around her ears. Ghosting her middle finger down your slit, she pressed it inside you, groaning at the ease.

“Fuck lovie… never gonna get over that feeling.” She pressed another in for good measure and curled, making you squeal and grip her hair tightly, holding her face to your cunt as she ravished you.

“Please… oh god please Simmy. ‘m gonna come.” You panted, heat pooling in you. She pulled back, thumbing your clit as she grinned down at you, fingers still plunging into your slick hole.

“Yeah? You gonna be a good girl for me and come, aren’t you? Gonna make a mess all over our couch and make it smell like you?” Now it was her turn to moan as she leaned back down, alternating between her tongue and thumb as she spoke.

“Love the way you smell, the way you taste… I’d live off you if I could, sweet girl. My good girl. Mine.”

“Yours, Simmy… always yours.” You managed to get out, head spinning as your fingers tightened. You were spiralling, her attentiveness to you was unparalleled, knowing exactly where to press, flick, and suck.

Unable to contain the feeling, you cried out, one hand flying to grip the couch below you as your back arched and thighs trembled. You could feel your pussy pulsing around her fingers, clenching around them tighter as the coil in your gut tightened. Your body was tantalisingly close, perched on a knife’s edge before the spring snapped and you moaned her name as your eyes fluttered closed, head tipping back.

Simone hummed contentedly into your pussy, lapping gently as she worked you through your release. Once your body had sagged back down onto the couch and your walls had stopped spasming around her fingers, she lowered back down to place a soft kiss on the hood of your clit. Jerking from overstimulation, you whined softly, but giggled as you opened your eyes blearily to look up into her smiling face.

“So fuckin’ pretty, lovie.” She whispered before diving in to claim your mouth, tongue immediately pressing in so you could taste yourself. Pulling back just as quickly, her eyes darkened with lust, she looked down at you, head cocked slightly.

“Got an idea, princess. Since you had all that talk about doing some work in the bedroom, why don’t you get out that strap of mine that makes you scream?”

Drawing your lip into your mouth, you nodded eagerly, quickly getting up on shaky legs as you stumbled to the bedroom. You could hear Simone laughing as you walked, but you didn’t care. Returning, strap in hand, you held it out to her.

It was a mean thing, cruelly thick and curved, large enough to hit that spot inside you that made you cream with ease, and she knew it too. Standing up, Simone loomed over you, shucking off her jacket and pants revealing her hulking frame, she tugged on the strap before sitting back down on the couch, legs spread in a way that made you want to crawl between them and worship her. But she had other plans.

“Want you to ride me, lovie. Ride my cock until you can’t take it anymore and need me to take over. Wanna watch that pretty face fall apart as you realise you can’t come without me, then I’ll plow you into the couch.” Whining softly, you crawled into her lap, positioning yourself over her strap.

“Be a good girl and ride Daddy’s cock, like a pretty little slut.”

[lunarw0rks]

can you make a part 3 of first time with simon?

I feel like this has a potential for do many sweet but sexy moments with him

I love reading the way you write him, exactly how I imagine him to be with his partner

a/n: this made my brain go brrr... sure the merciless, dirty smut can be fun sometimes. but i struggle to picture that being a constant with simon<;3 here's some more "first-time" content to bounce off that.

˖⁺‧₊˚ first-time pt.3 // drabble ˚₊‧⁺˖

♡ PART ONE ♡ PART TWO ♡ warning(s): nsfw, established relationship, fluff/smut, soft!dom simon is trying his best, overstimulation, reader anatomy not described, gn!reader ────have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX ˎˊ˗

☆ Simon's consideration towards your needs, and only your needs, was something you both relished and despised. It didn't matter how uncomfortable he was, as long as you weren't. After assurances, after all the permission — he was still so damn tender. ☆ He had his distasteful moments, of course. But never once in the bedroom. After your first night together, of gentle and tender likeness, a sensual image burned into your mind. And then the first evening you went down on him — you wanted more. To try your hand at his fantasies, the urges you knew he buried so deep in fear of scaring you off.

Right now, all you could picture was letting him indulge. For once, you couldn't focus on the pleasure whilst he was trailing his tongue along your neck, grinding his hips against yours subtly. Your mind was packed to the brim with new desires — with no room for much else.

"Simon." You spoke up, halting his gentle foreplay entirely. He muttered a hm, peering his head up to ensure you weren't vetoing his intimacy.

Tonight was the night those waters needed to be tested. You could feel it in your bones and with every chill of arousal that coursed through you. Your proposition remained gentle, though neediness seeped through the cracks of them, in a manner only he be able to notice.

──── "We should try something new, something you've wanted to do."

☆ Now you were getting frustrated, but not in the way you were before. Pleasured, but damn flustered at the sight of him in this new 'persona'. Though, you weren't sure it could be called one yet because he had barely done a thing except the routine. Make you see stars and then do it all over again. Where's the fun in that? ☆ Not only had he used his hands into oblivion, but he was already eager to be inside you, to fuck you into that same oblivion. Like he had done several times now in your relationship. You had no doubts about how lovely that sounded, nor would you complain if that's all that you wanted. However, tonight was about experimentation, there was no sense in him holding back. Even if it was in his nature.

"You're allowed to be mean, Simon." you muttered against the pillow, squirming under the tickle of his breath on your ear. Your backside pressed against his hips, though you made no effort to wiggle them like usual.

A gentle scoff sounded behind you, playful but hesitant, "don't think mean is the word, love. Just don't want to hurt you, is all." He muttered, planting a kiss on your earlobe. Sure, he could be cruel, he could be authoritative. Sometimes his intimacy had undertones of his urges, but never so evident. It would be a slow ease, not an abrupt careless one. Something that would take months. If anything, tonight would be the tip of the iceberg, no matter how much you reassured him.

Your eyes rolled, this time not in ecstasy like the times before, "I don't seem hurt, do I?" The words struck a chord, sending a surge of certainty toward his next move.

Within seconds, you found yourself on top of him, commanding hands on your hips to hold you in place. You couldn't conceal a smile, despite his attempts at remaining serious. His brows were furrowed, but his gaze remained gentle, leaving behind any semblance of aggressive dominance. Your humorous reaction would've been coddled any other time. But tonight wasn't the night for that, was it?

──── Instead, he cupped your jaw enough to keep your eyes on him, calloused fingertips buried into the flesh ever-so-slightly. "Hurt isn't a word I want coming out of your mouth. How about that?"

☆ Finally, a taste of what you've been craving. The gentle dominance you always pictured on Simon, and by God did he wear it well. The harmless anticipation of what he'd do next was always on the tip of your tongue, similar to every climax that snuck up on you. A mere taste of euphoria — before you were plunged headfirst. ☆ It was moments like this where you truly felt the consequences of your request, yet in the best way. Not once had he given you a solid moment to catch up, unless it was to ask for reassurance. Typically, similar to; 'Is that alright, love?' or 'You like it when I touch you there?' The perfect mix of tease and his gentle nature, wrapped around the dirty phrases like an embellished bow.

When you couldn't keep up the strength to keep rhythm, Simon took it upon himself to aid you. He thrusted upwards to meet your entrance, abusing the spots within you over and over again. The muscles of your walls pulsed and remained constricted, permanently exhausted from the blissful misuse.

Every trembling limb was fighting the arch of your back, the cramp of your fingers as they pressed against his pecs. "Too much for you, hm?" Simon asked, half-way serious, whilst the other half was heard as a mock to your overwhelmed state.

"You'll take it though, won't you, baby? Been so damn good all night. Why stop now?" His words have turned to slurs, though his consideration for your comfort hasn't dwindled a hair. Simon flipped the position, lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder to hit places even deeper within you. Wherever this persona of his had been hiding so long, you're glad you convinced a bit of it revealing itself.

Whatever climax you were enduring right now, you had lost count. All you knew was how violently the pleasure was pumping through you, and how his continued thrusts were heightening the experience. Not only that but his teases, the rumble of his deep voice in close proximity to your ear. By no means was it a seamless affair; it had taken several minutes of trial and error until he learned all the right ways to make you lose your composure.

With warm breaths escaping both of you, he sealed your lips with his own, allowing you to writhe in a more controlled manner. Simon had no clue whether he was nailing this, or if you'd ever want him to take charge again. By no means was he being aggressive, but to him, it was a significant step. Your reactions said enough, given the fact that he had rendered you speechless.

Sweat pooled on the glands of your forehead, dooming you to a disheveled appearance. After this long, after countless orgasms, your appearance held little weight in the equation. The phrase 'fucked-out' couldn't have rung more truthfully. Your back relaxed, finally un-arching as his thrusts calmed — the moment he decided to ease up.

"Was that okay?" He spoke when he pulled away from the kiss, letting your fatigued leg slide down until you were lying flat below him again, legs still parted. His plunges were still deep, but now more lenient.

Even on the brink of his release, his cares fell on you, not the selfish greed of ravishing you. You nodded your head, letting a reassuring smile spread across your face.

"Perfect, Simon," you breathed heavily, holding his waist as the bed creaked beneath his pressing weight. "I'm alright." He returned the slightest hint of an amused beam, using your assurance to fuel his own release.

One palm roamed the side and back of your thigh, the other roamed along your waist, as if his fingertips needed to memorize every patch of flesh to ensure you weren't going to recant your original proposition. "Fuck, 'm close, love. Christ, you're perfect wrapped around me." Despite how desperately his toned body yearned for release, his thrusts didn't once get rougher again. He was savoring this, like taking it slow was a sweet reward for the both of you. It was, even just laying back and observing the intoxication he had for your body.

Seconds later, he lost his control. His hips halted, fists balling against the sheets instead of your flesh as he clamped around the fabric with all his might, letting out a guttural groan as he spilled within you once again. The other hand soon reached out for the nightstand, holding the edge as he endured the brunt of his climax. In the process, he sent your stack of books tumbling to the hard floor.

The noisy thumps startled you, eyes peering over the edge of the bed as they stumbled from the force of his hand shooting out. His eyes snapped open as well, shaking his head when he saw the hitch in a night nearing perfection.

Simon shook his head, gaze switching from the disordered scene beside the bed back to your look of shock. "My bad, sweetheart. You bring out the worst in me, don't you?" He spoke frivolously, running his thumb along the flushed, damp flesh of your cheek.

A chuckle erupted from you as the clumsy happening soured any sensual mood in the room. "Think that's your sign to settle down, big boy." You hooked your arms around his shoulders, forcing his weight to collapse on your chest — or he made you think you did. Either way, the pressing weight of him atop you was soothing and secure, the same as any time you cuddled.

The snuggle didn't last long, not after you dropped such a bomb. His head perked up from the crock of your neck, now with a scowl painted on his face. "Did I hear that right?"

Warmth consumed your cheeks, a noticeable discomfiture to him when you broke into another fit of snickering. His faux-anger was a hilarious sight of his own but paired with the book mishap — it was ridiculous. "Alright, grumpy, I won't call you it again." You retorted sarcastically, using dramatics when you attempted to roll over. There was nothing he hated more than a bratty cold shoulder, even in pure contexts.

Simon subdued you with ease, forcing you to straddle him all over again. Only this time, it wasn't in a sexual sense — it was petty vengeance for the name-calling. "Grumpy, hm?" He teased, forcing you to sink all your weight onto his lap, not allowing any resistance.

"Bloody smartmouth, you are. I think I'll keep you here, like this, until you can't take it." Your squirms were entertainment at best, doing little to wrangle yourself out of the confines of his hands. Instead, you just exhausted yourself even further.

Despite what he'd said, he stopped when you admitted defeat. The sigh escaped your lips, prompting you to slump your posture as you perched on his lap. You eagerly reached out your hands, intertwining and playing with his as they did the same.

You were a prisoner on this lap — yet you had no desire to flee.

[yuellii]

female reader . fluff, talks of the future, of having children

There was not much shame to hold in mundane Monday mornings of Meropide, especially not as Wriothesley’s gaze was caught by the loud clacking of your shoes against the metal floors of the fortress.

Who would’ve thought to wear such loud shoes in a place like this except for you, and you’ve—rather intriguingly—caught his attention. While it certainly wasn’t uncommon for you to make your way up his office staircase, he could not help but click his tongue at the sound of your steps. Private time was brewing, perhaps much like the steaming tea at his parted lips.

“You might wanna get a heel-check,” he sourly remarked with a lazy gruff in his chords. His gaze flickered to you not a moment too soon as your sly little grin appeared from the bottom floor.

“How else am I supposed to announce my presence, Duke?”

If not for the cup against his mouth, he would’ve almost scowled at that haughty diction of yours.

“Your presence might not need announcing,” he spoke as you made your way to lean down over his desk. “Not when you should be rounding up some people at this time.”

You scoffed. “There’s not many working the Production Zone today.” Leaning your hip against the front of the table, you teasingly smiled down at him on his chair. A heavy contrast to his serious face, but you could always decipher it otherwise. He was one to stay quiet here, an underside of played cards to silently allow you to move on your own; And you did—perhaps it was the stillness that naturally gravitated you to the side of his office chair. “Which means I’m all yours for now, Duke.”

Calm face, barely moved a muscle, yet his hand came and pulled your hip until you were falling atop his lap, back flush against his chest. He was warm, possibly due to the lingering heat of the tea even so far below the ocean. And his arm was a firm type of secure around your waist, yet you couldn’t help but like the feel of being trapped against him like this. Perhaps he did, too; that wasn’t doubted when he always took advantage of any private time you had.

Now, this was the time you typically took to ramble on and on to him. Here, when he stayed quiet over his work to bask simultaneously in your presence. Here, where you could talk as much as you wanted without being a guard to those prisoners. Here, where you could feel his heartbeat right on your back. It’s tough to restrict the words that begin spilling out.

“I was thinking of having children.”

Your first sentence, no matter how quietly said, is one to immediately stun silence. He doesn’t move, and it leads one to wonder if he’s just focusing on the papers in front of him. Yet, he didn’t tense, either. There wasn’t much you could be afraid of here.

“There’s an adoption center I’ve been eyeing on the surface.”

When he speaks so calmly, you can’t help but exhale in relief withheld. So he’s thought about it, too. That’s a good start.

“You want to adopt?” A reasonable question from your end, and there’s a comforting sort of feel in the air that lulls your head to fall back against his shoulder. He gladly accepts your affection, moving himself to lean his cheek down atop your head. “I haven’t thought of that.”

You felt his body shrug right under yours. “It’s been a dream of mine,” he says so nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just confess to something he’s thought about for much of his life.

“And I’ve always wanted my own kids,” you said. Less than a contrary, truthfully, no tone of argument set between you two. It was in moments like these he felt stripped and bare the most—greatly and almost completely vulnerable in your wake. Where he can admit the simpler, less complicated things to a person that wouldn’t judge his forthcomings, as hopeful as they could be.

Because no one would expect the Duke of foredoomed Meropide to have a future hope.

And yet, he laughs. A small chuckle erupts from his chest, and you can feel the simplicity of it all. “Maybe we should have two kids,” he suggests. His arm wraps tighter around your stomach, and you think you might like that idea. “One child of our own, one we adopt.” You couldn’t see him, but you could tell he was smiling against the hair of your head when he kissed you ever so lightly.

“That’s certainly a start,” you settle. And then he pulls you in, all work disregarded to wrap both his arms snuggly around you and pulling you into his body. It’s still and warm on his lap; you could only smile as he breaths in the atmosphere you radiate.

“A good start. I like it.”

🔖 - list : @vivinens ( winky face )