#and I really really love how much he's come out of his shell

[kumkaniudaku]

Amen

Summary: Terry and Patrice learn more about their love through life changing news on New Year’s Eve.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Mentions of Death

Inspired By: Ask #1 + Ask #2

MASTERLIST

Grief was a bitch. 

A mean, ugly, unwanted bitch that had settled beside Terry as an unwelcomed guest just when he thought that he'd banished it out of his life, never to return. Over two years of joy that he'd fought tooth and nail to maintain came crashing down once grief came strolling into town without warning. 

Mike was dead. He knew that. He'd reckoned with it, talked himself through the anniversary of his death once before, sent well-wishes to his aunt every time he could, cried in the shadows, mourned, lashed out, and sat in silence with the knowledge that his little cousin would never come through the door again. Mike wouldn't see another birthday. He wasn't around for the wedding or Christmas. They'd never see another football game together. Mike would never meet Nyla. 

That fact came as a sobering realization while Terry watched his only daughter's chest rise and fall as she slept peacefully in her crib for the first time all day. A cold running through her daycare had finally latched on to her fresh immune system, turning his usually jovial baby into a shell of herself. He told his higher-ups that he needed to take the day to care for her in his mother-in-law's stead, but what he really needed was time alone to deal with his uninvited guest. 

Leaning over the sturdy walnut railing keeping his little girl safely inside her crib, he watched her with the ghost of a smile on his lips. Mike would've loved her. Terry was sure of it. He'd make his way to Fayetteville at any opportunity and cause havoc, probably irritating Patrice but definitely doting on Nyla in a way that only he could. 

Tears that had been fighting to see the world all day pricked Terry's eyes yet again. He almost let them fall but found himself blinking them back once Patrice pushed open the door and poked her head inside. 

She smiled despite work wearing her thin and waved with her fingers. "Can I come in, or would that be too much?" 

"Of course, you can," he answered, trying to put on a brave face to hide the true turmoil inside. 

Seeing her stand there, her bright smile directed at him like he was the sun, moon, and stars, was the first time he'd felt anything other than the weight of regret. He needed her to come into the room. 

Tiptoeing, Patrice approached Terry and peered over the crib's railing to look at Nyla. "How was she," she whispered before softly touching her forehead to check for heat. "Doin' any better?" 

"A little. I got her to eat and play for a bit before the medicine kicked in. She should be out for the night and good enough to sit with your mom by the ceremony on Monday. But, we'll see." 

"Good. Thank you for taking the lead. I know she was happy to have you around." She took a second look at her pride and joy, then focused all her attention on Terry. Worry and sadness had found a home on his brow line as they remained furrowed in thought. She leaned her head on his forearm and looked up at him. "And what about my other baby? How was he today?" 

The date wasn't lost on Patrice. She noticed when Terry slowly retreated into himself the week before. She saw him looking at Mike's Instagram when he thought she wasn't paying attention. She heard the conversation with his aunt when he promised to come by and see her the next time he could make it to Baton Rouge, even though she knew that time wasn't coming. Every shift in his demeanor and thousand-yard stare showed that he was reliving a hellish time she couldn't protect him from. 

No amount of soothing could pull him out of his rut. But that wouldn't stop her from trying. 

Terry continued to stare down at Nyla as he answered. "I'm okay. Not too up, not too down." 

"You need anything?" Terry didn't respond with words once he finally tore his eyes away from their daughter to look at Patrice. He only shook his head. "Can I give you a hug at least?" 

His first dose of physical affection for the day felt like the wind was gently placed back into his lungs as Patrice pulled him closer by his shoulders. His hands found her waist first, giving the spot a short squeeze before allowing his arms to fully encircle her body. 

"I love you. You know that?" 

"I know." That was the one thing he was sure of. His heart and mind were splintered into a million pieces, but he knew Patrice was there to help him put each one back in their proper place. His lips found her temple for a lingering kiss as he closed his eyes to ward off the sadness, still trying to take center stage. "I, um…I... didn't have a good day today…" Terry struggled with the words, opening and closing his mouth in hopes that something would come out while Patrice listened to him try to articulate his thoughts. A deep breath and closed eyes helped him settle before he spoke. "I could use some time together. Whatever you have tonight, I'll take it. I know you have to be up early tomorrow, so even an hour is –" 

His words were cut short by a simple kiss on his cheek. Patrice pulled back to look at him and flashed a reassuring smile. "Give me a few minutes to get changed, and you have me for however long you need me. I'll stay up late and everything. Dasia will understand if I cancel my hair appointment for tomorrow."

"I don't want you to do that." 

"We'll play it by ear," she answered to douse the early flames of a disagreement. "Twenty minutes. You can time me." 

Terry nodded in understanding and silently agreed to let Patrice out of his sight when he needed her most. Whether she was gone for 30 seconds or three days, the time away felt slow. 

Terry tried and quickly tired of distracting himself in Nyla's nursery before quietly slipping out and taking the trek to wait for Patrice like a lost puppy.

He settled into the plush velvet chair in the corner and sighed with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Closed eyes heightened his sense of hearing, giving him full access to Patrice's singing in the shower. 

Mike would've loved the Patrice he heard so much about. He'd call her 'big sis' and annoy her the way little brothers do. They'd argue endlessly but still find time for secret handshakes and inside jokes. He'd finally have someone on his side to pester Terry and receive sound advice from when the going got tough. They may have taken him in as their overgrown first child. They could've worked together to get him on the right path and save his life. 

Unfortunately, Terry would never know. The not knowing left the door wide open for sadness to creep back in. 

He breathed deep and tried to will grief away with Patrice's voice as a lullaby in the background. And for a moment, it complied. The dark, heavy cloud slipped off his back and down to his feet with every exhale, lightening the weight on his arms and shoulders until he felt close to a Terry who was safe, sound, and far from the troubles of his past. 

Mike would want that. He'd like to know what Terry had going on as the last person expected to settle down into a family man. He'd probably poke fun at his older cousin for attending birthing classes and fawning over ruffled outfits in Target when what he knew of Terry was brooding, reserved, and quietly menacing. Mike had seen his cousin kick up dust with the worst of them. Seeing Terry as a man who wouldn't so much as cough too loud if his wife or daughter was around would be a sight. 

As grief slowly packed its things and headed for the door, his comfort emerged from the steaming bathroom, looking like a lighthouse in a raging storm. 

Patrice's humming paused once she noticed Terry sitting in the corner. "Missed me," she teased, drawing a small, dry chuckle from her husband as she made her way to their dresser. "You could've joined if you wanted."

"That's alright. I know you need your time to decompress.” He gestured toward the garment in her hand. “Need help with that?"

She could've put her clothes on with no assistance, but Patrice knew that Terry wouldn't have asked if he didn't need the distraction. She granted his covert request for her attention by quickly plucking matching pieces from her sleepwear drawer and placing them in his outstretched hands. 

They spent time in comfortable silence while he slid soft cotton up her legs and then helped her into her shirt, kissing random spots of exposed skin along the way. "I didn't ask about your day. I'm sorry. I got a lot of…other stuff on my mind. How was work?" 

"It was work. Nothing too important. Glad it's the weekend. Two more days, and I get to see my first graduating class of freshmen that I taught. Isn't that crazy? I'm getting old, huh?" She laughed by herself. 

Terry avoided eye contact despite his faint smile, preferring to tie the drawstring at her waist in a neat bow like she preferred. "Never old. Only better."

"You're too sweet." Patrice cuddled him close when he was done and rubbed a spot at the nape of his neck to soothe him into closing tired, heavy lids. "I know it's tough, but I promise you'll be okay, babe. The sadness isn't gonna go away, but you'll learn to live with it. You'll learn to make space for all those feelings inside you at once. And I'll be here when you need someone else to hold some of them, too." 

Terry sighed. "I'm not tryin' to be a burden for you, P. We have enough going on as is." 

"You're not a burden, Terry; you're my husband – my friend."

To be accepted with all of the muddy waters traversing his mind and heart felt like too much to ask for in Terry's mind, especially from someone who'd spent so much time wading through all his bullshit without complaint. He owed her his life, the full weight of his love, until the day God deemed their time together but a beautiful memory forever etched in boxed trinkets and old photos. 

He wanted to give her the moon as she stood stroking his pain away with her fingertips but settled for kissing his way up her sternum on the way to her lips. 

One day, when other emotions had dwindled, and he was feeling more like himself, Terry would lay his head on Patrice's lap and tell her about the atrocities that had shaped the time before they reacquainted. That day wasn't today, and all he could think of was pouring his gratitude for her graciousness into making sure she was satisfied in the one area he could control. 

Shorts that had only been on her body for mere minutes found a new home on the floor alongside her top. Patrice was weightless in Terry's arms as he carried her to their shared bed, his lips attached to hers for needy kisses that felt more like life rafts to keep him above rough waters than affectionate gestures. 

Patrice questioning if he was sure about his actions fell on deaf ears, and soon, all of her inquiries became lost whispers in a room swirling with the sounds of desperate lovemaking. Terry left his mark on her neck and chest while he worked himself out of his clothes. 

His voice came in gravelly against the shell of her ear. "I fuckin' love you, Treece. Don't ever leave me." He was pleading and caught somewhere between raw desire and tremendous despair. "Please, don't ever leave me." 

"I'm not going anywhere, baby," Patrice reassured without hesitation.

Terry left soft kisses and big, salty tears on Patrice's cheeks once their foreheads met. "Please. I need you, Patrice." Grief was back and taunting him in his ear with its partner in crime, Doubt. She'll leave, just like everyone else. You don't deserve her. Lies filled his head with no shut-off valve in sight. The tears turned into sobs he couldn't ignore with breathing techniques or a change in his thought process. "I'm sorry. I just need you. I can't do this by myself. Don't leave." 

Patrice quickly cast amorous feelings aside to wrap her arms tight around Terry. "Woah, woah, TJ. I'm here! I'm right here." 

Grief was a bitch. Even when he threw his best punch at it, grief always hit Terry back with a haymaker that left him staggering and woozy in defeat. 

The moments after his heaving, hyperventilating meltdown became a blur of Patrice's soft-spoken instruction, lavender bubble bath, and candlelight. When he came back from a mental trip to Shelby Springs to live out alternate realities, where he emerged victorious with Mike by his side, he found himself nestled between his wife's legs, surrounded by fresh hot water and scented white foam. 

Patrice moved behind him, plastic crinkling as she peeled the back off of something he couldn't see before bringing her wet hands around to his face. "These'll help with the puffiness," she declared like an experienced esthetician informing a client. "I used to use this every other day in grad school. Cry all you need. No one will ever know by morning." 

A 'thank you' tried to rise from his throat, but Terry quickly found his voice too hoarse to say anything worth a damn. Patrice didn't mind, though. She was content to press another cold patch underneath his eye before grabbing the shampoo rinse cup resting near the baby monitor at the edge of the tub. 

Terry closed his eyes as the warm water washed over his short curls, sitting neatly behind a sharp hairline and tapered sides. His hair glistened under flickering lights provided by small flames in glass components. Patrice used her acrylic nails to work magic against his scalp, turning shampoo into a mountain of suds to cleanse the pain. 

"I swear every time my Nana and mama scrubbed my head, I felt like a new person after. One time, I was going through the worst friend breakup I've ever had, and by the time Mommy finished with me, I didn't even know that girl's name. Didn't even matter anymore." 

"What happens after the scrub, though? You just…go back to normal?" 

Patrice chuckled as she ran another stream of water across his head to start on a second lather. "Hell no. That's where the patches come in." Terry allowed himself his first genuine laugh all day, taking a stone out of grief's stronghold. His fingertips ran back and forth over the wet skin on Patrice's legs as he sat with his eyes closed in a battle for his sanity. They let the quiet ripple of water around them fill the humid air in the room, preferring to enjoy the feel of skin on skin over extraneous conversation until Patrice began running conditioner through each of his thick strands. "I love when you wear your hair like this. The haircuts are nice, but when it's grown out, it reminds me of young you." 

"Hot-headed, couldn't buckle down enough to work through being mad at not getting scholarships to still go to college me?" Terry scoffed, finding the notion of a younger, far less polished him being someone worth missing. 

Patrice shrugged. "I didn't know that Terry," she confessed. The stories of his anger felt like fables to Patrice. The only Terrence Richmond she'd ever known was sweet as homemade banana pudding after Sunday service and a whip-smart boy with the world at his feet. "My Terry and his little fro was always kind. Always noble and lending a helping hand. And now he's got a baby girl in the other room with a head full of her daddy's curls after she looked like Charles Barkley for three months." Terry smiled at the mention of Nyla and how she'd inherited at least one part of him after taking her mother's entire face. Patrice watched him reach for the monitor and bring it closer to his face for a look at his second favorite girl before she continued. "My Terry is who Mike loved. I never met him, but I know he saw the best in you. We all do, baby." 

More silence sat heavy as Terry wiped away fresh tears gathering at his waterline. Of course, they'd see the best in him when he couldn't see the best in himself. 

Grief came knocking again with Doubt in tow, but Terry ignored them to slide deeper into the water and rest his heavy head on Patrice's chest before speaking. "Mike and me…we used to get in a lot of trouble at my granny's house." 

"Yeah? Two badass kids, huh? Tell me about it."

"One time," he started, already smiling at the memory. "We got her beagle, Satchel, sick because we kept feeding him shrimp out of the gumbo. He threw up all over the back porch, and Mike got so scared that he told on us, thinking we wouldn't get the switch if we were honest." 

"Did y'all?" 

Terry laughed and nodded. "Wore our asses out. I hated that damn dog for the rest of his life. It wasn't his fault, but I was just a kid." 

"You knew better, though." 

"Whose side are you on right now?" Terry asked, looking up at Patrice with faux offense on his face. 

She giggled back. "Okay, my bad!" A final round of water cascaded down Terry's shoulders and back, washing the ugly soot of regret off of his grief to reveal the love making up its inner parts. Patrice kissed his wet hair and held her lips there even as she spoke. "Can you tell me more about Mike? I wanna know him through you."

The invitation erupted a dormant volcano deep within his Terry's heart.

He told stories of his cousin and their time together until the lavender-scented bubbles evaporated into tepid bath water. Until grief felt more like gratitude for memories made. Until Patrice's stomach ached from laughter. Until the clock struck midnight, and tears started to roll again. Until Patrice had wiped his entire face with her delicate fingertips several times over without a single inkling of exasperation or judgement while they lay face to face beneath cold sheets. And until she finally closed her eyes from exhaustion and turned her back for some shut-eye. 

Then, he talked to God. A long list of thank you's emerged from his heart. A thank you for keeping him alive, one for time spent with Mike, one for his daughter, and another for the only person keeping him afloat when all he wanted to do was drown. 

Terry looked at Patrice and smiled. Light from the television illuminated her face, highlighting her knitted brow and slight frown as she lay in the throes of a dream he could only imagine was vivid enough to evoke such a clear expression of disgust. The thought alone produced a genuine smile. 

Clicking the power button, Terry found himself in complete darkness, fighting for the words to finish his prayer. He sighed and looked back toward Heaven. "She's perfect, God. Even when she isn't. If you never give me anything else, thank you for Patrice."

"Hm?"

Patrice's groggy response to her name being called made Terry roll over on his side to calm her back into sleep. "Nothing, baby," he spoke into her shoulder before pressing a kiss on her skin. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, earning a content sigh. "I was just praying for you."

She smiled without opening her eyes. "Well, amen to that."

Tears tickled Terry's waterline, this time filled with overwhelming gratitude. A blessing like no other. 

"Yeah. Amen to that."

-----

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[nordax]

burning, yearning need to bleed

baby's first iwtv fic, let's fucking go

armand/daniel, mirror sex, a hand job, biting, a lot of blood and a healthy side of masochism. wc: 4k

ao3

inspired by the gorgeous, incredible, breathtaking art by the lovely @ladyofthecreeddraws

It starts, like it often does, with three simple, little words. I wanna see.

And Daniel is morbidly curious in every aspect of his life, both personal and professional, so it really shouldn’t come as a surprise that he wants to watch Armand sink his fangs into his neck and feed from him. He’s always following so closely, so intensely, as Armand slices his own wrist open with his claws, watches the blood rush to the surface and out of the wound, down along his skin, and into Daniel’s waiting mouth, and Armand attributed that to addiction, or to Daniel’s fascination with tearing things open and seeing how they work, pulling secrets free through clenched teeth. Personally and professionally.

And he whispers those words into Armand’s curls, and he looks at Armand with those pretty eyes, pupils blown wide, high on the vampire’s blood, and begs to see.

Armand offers to bite into Daniel’s wrist so that he may see, or his thigh, and the boy refuses point blank, says it won’t be the same, that it won’t be right. He’s erratic, eyes wild, grabbing two handfuls of Armand’s shirt and pulling him close, impossibly close, clinging to him, hiding his face in the brook of Armand’s neck. Bites at him, with his dull human teeth, for good measure. I need to see. 

--

So, here they are, with Daniel perched on Armand’s lap, his back flush to Armand’s chest, and they’re sitting on an armchair in front of a large, ornate mirror. Daniel had asked if Armand bought it just for this occasion and Armand scoffed, mumbled something about the vastness of his antique collection, and they both know he procured it specifically for this, for Daniel.

Daniel is all nervous energy, amped up from his usual restlessness, fidgeting and squirming in Armand’s lap. They look good, Armand thinks as he watches their reflection. He is still fully clothed, in his blazer and slacks, hair neat and styled, and Daniel is naked, hair still tousled from sleep, from when Armand practically dragged him out of bed for this. Daniel’s legs are on either side of Armand’s, spread open and displaying his soft cock, and it’s a pretty sight, the stark contrast of them like this, and made even prettier by Daniel seeing himself much like Armand sees him, stripped bare and so ready to be told what to do, bathed in the dim golden shine of the bedroom lights.

“Are you going to be good?” Armand asks, lips brushing against the shell of Daniel’s ear. Daniel shivers with it, with excitement and desire and curiosity. Armand resists the urge to touch, keeping his hands still on the armrests, seemingly relaxed, as if unaffected by the sight in the mirror, on his lap, all around him. Daniel knows him well by now, would notice the effort in keeping himself from touching Daniel, if he wasn’t so riled up, so deep in his own head.

“Yes”, Daniel finally says, breathes it out like a promise, emphasizes it by nodding enthusiastically. And usually he’s very good, even without being explicitly asked, and Armand has never been particularly good at denying Daniel anything he wants. This, though? For this, he might need to be taught a lesson in patience first.

“What do you want, beloved?” Armand asks, nosing along Daniel’s hairline behind his ear and down the back of his neck. Daniel tries to arch into it, to turn his head and offer the side of his neck closer to Armand’s mouth, and that’s not how good boys behave, trying to shortcut straight to the reward. Armand dances his fingers up along Daniel’s arm and across his shoulder, up to the base of his neck, brushing his hand through the messy curls and grabbing a handful, pulling down hard. A little too hard, if he’s honest with himself, but the sensation seems to go straight to Daniel’s dick, and he has no way to hide it from Armand here, like this.

“I do believe I asked you a question”, Armand says, and he has Daniel’s head tilted back to an uncomfortable angle, pulled down against his shoulder, throat open and exposed, and yet there are no complaints in the boy’s mind, just the calming static of pain, of Armand.

“I want to see”, Daniel whispers, eyes rolling back in his head as Armand tugs on his hair once more before releasing him. There’s a faint blush on Daniel’s cheeks, spilling down his neck and chest, and his cock is already filling out. Armand watches him study their reflection, tilting his head like it will somehow make a difference in the image in front of him.

“Look at you”, Armand starts, bringing his hands to both sides of Daniel’s neck, holding his head still, thumbs rubbing circles behind his ears. He feels the way the boy’s whole body shivers, how he goes a little breathless and his cock jumps at the thought of Armand’s long, slender fingers wrapping around his throat, squeezing, holding his life in his hands. “So fucking desperate, you’re already hard. Could you cum like this, for me, without ever having your pretty little cock touched?”

Daniel eats up his words like he’s starving, forced to watch their reflection, and his eyes are dark, hungry, darting around until they meet Armand’s. He looks so gorgeous, so ready to be ruined in Armand’s hands, and please, Armand, pleasepleaseplease is echoing in his head.

“Use your words, beloved”, Armand purrs, lips ghosting over Daniel’s ear, sucking at the bottom of his earlobe and Daniel whines, flexes his hands where they’re sitting neatly atop his thighs, and he’s being so good, not touching himself even when that wasn’t specifically asked of him. Maybe there is hope, then, that he will behave well enough for his rewards, and learn this little lesson in patience. A little mean, perhaps, but he knows how Daniel enjoys that, letting Armand unravel him and then put the pieces back together, to carve open his chest over and over again, make himself a home there, nestled between his fourth and fifth ribs, mirroring his heart.

“I want to watch you feed from me”, Daniel says, words coming out slowly, deliberate. Like he knows the weight of them, wants to watch them sink into Armand. His eyes are intense, determined where they meet Armand’s again through the mirror, and he nods, slides his fingers down along Daniel’s throat, finds the point where he usually bites, below his ear, near his jugular vein. Armand presses down with one single claw, lets it dig into the skin but doesn’t break it, and goosebumps spread all around it, like ripples in water after a stone is tossed in. With his other arm, Armand braces the boy against himself, wraps it tightly around him.

“Here?” he asks, circling the spot and Daniel lets out a breathless moan, turns his head to give Armand better access, and Armand slides his hand around to cup his jaw, squeezing until he can feel Daniel’s teeth through the flesh of his cheeks where they dig in, and Daniel moans with it, arching his back and clawing at the arm anchoring him against Armand. “Be good for me, beloved.”

It’s not a suggestion, or a plea. It’s an order.

Or what? Daniel thinks as Armand’s hand finally slips from his jaw, settles back around his throat. His thoughts are so loud, with that lopsided smile and cocked eyebrow, head tilted again, that Armand doesn’t need the mind gift to figure out that the boy is asking, begging for trouble. Or punishment.

“Out loud, please”, Armand reminds him. “I want to hear from you tonight.” Want to witness you fall apart, just for me. Because of me. 

Daniel nods slowly, eyes heavy-lidded and dark with arousal, with lust, and takes a few deep breaths. Armand revels in the feeling of the muscles of his throat working against his palm, the flex of tendons under his hand, the steady stream of blood pumping right underneath his fingertips.

He could tear open the boy’s throat with his claws and play in all of the blood that spills out of him, paint a portrait of him with it, of them, all over the floor and the walls; paint a mural of their past all across the ceiling, and it still wouldn’t be enough, wouldn’t soothe the ache that’s settled somewhere far too deep in his bones. He could pour the blood back in the boy, clean up his wounds and heal them, only to sink his fangs into the boy���s neck to drain him again, and Daniel would thank him, would appreciate that, because he loves the sight of his blood running down the sides of Armand’s mouth and down the column of his throat, and Armand has never been a messy eater, but for Daniel? Anything. Everything.

Sometimes, he thinks, it would be easier to just kill the boy and be done with it. Tear out his still beating heart, his bleeding heart, as if Daniel wouldn’t give it to him willingly, and watch the light drain from his eyes. Watch him down in his own blood, rather than watch him hungrily lick the drops of Armand’s blood from his skin, watch him smile with his teeth stained red and his pupils blown wide, and kiss him and lick the taste of his blood from the boy’s mouth.

And Armand opens his mouth and lets his fangs drop, and Daniel shivers, shakes with it, hands squeezed tightly around the arm that’s tethering him to Armand, to this moment, and his eyes are fixated on Armand in their reflection. On his mouth, on his fangs, and how the tips of them shine in the low light, almost like how sunlight reflects off of water, and the intensity of Daniel’s gaze borders on too much. His thoughts, too, the desperate thrum of need, and the overwhelming idea that Armand looks beautiful like this, that he looks beautiful with his jaw unhinged and fangs out.

“Please”, Daniel says, begs, pleads, fingers digging into Armand’s skin where he’s holding on impossibly tight, and not for the first time, Armand wishes Daniel possessed the strength to bruise him. His touch burns, feels like a brand, and it never stays long enough to settle the itch under his skin. “Armand, I need-”

The words die in Daniel’s throat as he lets Armand tilt his head back and to the side, and then his fangs are scraping against his skin, teasing, tickling. Daniel is practically vibrating in his lap, and somewhere in the back of Armand’s mind, there’s a faint echo of patience, of teaching a lesson, and then he finds the spot he dug his claw into earlier and bites, letting just the tips of his fangs pierce the boy’s skin and he forgets everything except the hitch in Daniel’s breath, the heady scent of arousal hanging heavy in the air, and the sweet taste of blood rushing into his mouth, the tinge of Daniel’s sweat. 

It’s a superficial wound, just a tease, and when he pulls away, Daniel whines.

“How does it feel?” Armand asks, lifting his eyes to meet Daniel’s in the mirror. “Tell me, Daniel.”

And he leans down again, tongue darting out to lick at the little droplets of blood rapidly drying on Daniel’s skin. Daniel arches into the touch and hisses as Armand sucks on the marks on his skin, trying to coax more blood to the surface, but the wound is too shallow, and yet the little noises Daniel makes are far more satisfying than any blood could ever be.

“It stings, a little”, Daniel says finally and takes in a deep breath, all stuttery on the inhale. “Doesn’t hurt though. Tickles.”

Armand hums, and Daniel makes a choked sound somewhere between a moan and a laugh, and then Armand slots his fangs into the wounds again and Daniel’s whole body tenses up. Armand bites down slowly, revels in the way Daniel’s pulse picks up, in the warmth radiating from his body and the twitch of his fingers on his arm, the wetness seeping into his slacks from Daniel’s leaking cock. His fangs sink into the boy’s neck inch by inch, and it’s agonizing and it’s euphoric; the slow sink into Daniel, the warmth flooding into his mouth and trailing down the sides of his mouth, down along Daniel’s skin because he’s still hovering over him instead of biting down fully, and the waver in Daniel’s voice makes his head spin a little.

“Burns, like… Like how they always talk about that hot, white flash of pain in books and movies, yeah? Feels fucking good. And the stretch, fuck, Armand.”

The rest of Daniel’s words turn into a garbled moan as Armand’s mouth finally slots against his skin, and he fits there perfectly, the curve of his lips against Daniel’s neck, and he drives his fangs as deep as they’ll go, and Daniel is panting, cursing and pleading, and Armand sucks hard, fills his mouth with blood and then he has to pull back again, he has to, he needs to see. 

Daniel looks defiled. Mesmerizing. Debauched. Gorgeous.

He’s flushed all over, the blush spilling down his neck and chest, reaching all the way up to his cheeks and the tips of his ears, and his lower lip is swollen and red, like he’s been biting on it. There are two less than neat puncture wounds on his neck, and the skin around them is a blotchy red, from Armand’s mouth, and there’s blood trailing down, down along his neck and pooling in the little dip above his collarbone and threatening to spill over. He’s squeezing onto Armand’s arm with his knuckles white, and his cock is beautifully hard and leaking precum between his legs, curved up towards his stomach.

Armand swallows, finally, and meets Daniel’s eyes through the mirror.

“How do you feel, beloved?” he asks, dipping his fingers in the blood pooling on Daniel’s collarbone and sending it pouring down further, over his chest and down his stomach. The wound on his neck is still bleeding, slowly but steadily.

“Good”, Daniel manages, and his eyes keep drifting from Armand’s to his own neck, and he would need to crane his neck and turn his head to see properly, but yet he’s sitting perfectly still, in the position Armand arranged him into. Armand drags his hand down Daniel’s front, smearing the blood as he goes, and somewhere between cupping his pec and circling his navel before settling on the curve where his thigh meets his groin, Daniel stops breathing. He holds his breath as Armand paints the blood across his skin, down to his inner thigh, tracing along where his femoral artery lies under his skin.

“Look at you”, Armand says, hand coming up to wrap around Daniel’s dick, and the noise Daniel makes should be recorded, should be pressed into a vinyl so that he might keep it forever, and listen to it over and over again. “What a gorgeous mess.”

He gives Daniel a few slow strokes, fingers wrapped too loose around him, and the remnants of blood mix into the precum leaking steadily from the head of Daniel’s cock. A sloppy, wet mess that is threatening to ruin one of Armand’s favorite pair of trousers, and he could command Daniel to stand up, to clean up the mess he’s made, to get down on his knees and lick Armand clean, and he would obey happily, but something here feels too precarious, too precious to disturb.

Perhaps the way Daniel can’t seem to catch his breath, how he’s desperately rutting into Armand’s hand and still clinging to the arm Armand has draped around his torso, holding him tightly in place. Or the scent of his blood, trickling down his body, and the sight of them, the shine in Daniel’s eyes in the mirror, the sheen of sweat on his forehead and it’s too much, it’s entirely too much, Daniel’s spread legs and his pretty cock in Armand’s hand, his blood everywhere around them, on them. Too much, and not enough. Never enough.

Daniel whines at the loss as Armand pulls his hand away, and then pries Daniel’s fingers off of his other arm. He places his free hands on Daniel’s hips, and wants to squeeze, to push his claws into the soft flesh and tear him apart, pulling him into pieces.

“Up”, he says instead, and his voice sounds uncertain, hoarse even to his own ears. Daniel scrambles off his lap, knees a little unsteady for a moment. “Towards the mirror.”

And Daniel is good, so good, and he steps closer and closer and Armand follows, eyes never leaving their reflection. There’s something intoxicating about watching himself approach Daniel, a predator stalking up to its willing victim, the sacrificial lamb holding a knife to its own throat.

Armand presses up against Daniel, an arm’s length from the mirror and takes Daniel’s hands in his, places them against the glass. And if there’s a tremor in his hands as he glides them back down along Daniel’s arms before releasing him, neither one of them say anything about it.

“Spread your legs for me, beloved”, he says and Daniel nods, scoots his feet apart until Armand hums in approval. He tears his eyes away from their reflection only to be able to study Daniel. This close, he can see the bruise forming right under the bite mark on Daniel’s neck, and the knowledge of that buzzes pleasantly under his skin. He follows the freckles and marks on Daniel’s skin down along his back to the soft curve of his ass, finds his hands on Daniel’s hips again, pulling him closer, impossibly close. 

He nuzzles along Daniel’s hairline at his neck, behind his ear, licks at his skin to taste his sweat and trails down, down, down to the wound. It’s no longer bleeding but it’s still open, raw and red and abused, and there’s never been much self-restraint for Armand when it concerns Daniel.

Please, Armand. I need it, do it.

Daniel looks pained, almost, as he silently begs for Armand and his brow is furrowed in a way that always spells out trouble in one form or another, and he’s biting his lip almost hard enough to draw blood, and maybe that’s what he’s aiming for, maybe that’s what he needs.

“Out loud, please”, Armand whispers, lips ghosting against Daniel’s skin, and there’s a pause, and a flicker of something in Daniel’s eyes Armand can’t quite figure out before he swallows and takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut.

“Armand. Bite me.”

And maybe he meant it as a slight, meant to have some bite to it, but it comes out more like a prayer.

“Look at me, beloved.”

Daniel’s eyes open just in time to see Armand’s fangs sink into his skin again, slow and intentional, letting blood rush to the surface and spill down Daniel’s neck before his mouth closes over the wound and he settles there, pressing his body against Daniel’s, one hand still in a bruising grip on his hip while he wraps the other one around Daniel’s dick, squeezing hard at the base. Daniel’s body is hot against Armand, and he can feel the warmth even through his clothes, and Daniel whines and begs, sweaty hands slipping on the glass of the mirror but he keeps his position, keeps his eyes open, keeps watching Armand feed from him.

How does it feel? Tell me. 

Silence follows, and it takes a moment, an eternity for Daniel to get his mouth working, and Armand keeps his fangs embedded in Daniel’s neck. It’s inefficient, and there’s a dull ache in the joint of his jaw, but the pleasure radiating from every inch, every iota of Daniel is enough to keep him like this for however long he must. Daniel opens his mouth and nothing comes out, and he closes it again with a frustrated sigh. Armand strokes his cock languidly, gathering the precum pearling at the tip and spreading it all over before slotting the edge of his claw into the slit at the tip, and Daniel’s hips buck up into it, involuntarily.

“Fuck”, he breathes out and Armand’s hand is back at the base of his cock. “Hurts, fucking… Feels good. The pain feels distant, like it’s an old wound or a scar that aches when the weather gets bad. Radiates through my whole body, and it’s hard to tell where it stops and you start. Feels like if you move, I’ll cum.”

Armand hums against Daniel’s skin, and his cock jumps in Armand’s hand.

My hand, or my mouth?

Daniel chokes out a laugh, and it jostles Armand just a little, and he can feel his fangs tearing further into the boy’s skin, into his flesh. He gives Daniel’s cock a few strokes, faster and tighter this time, and it’s awkward angle but Daniel’s knees almost buckle under him, and Armand is sure his fingerprints are etched into the boy’s hip by now.

“Either. Both. Armand, please, I need… you”, Daniel says, and there’s an edge of despair in his voice that sinks deep into Armand, settles somewhere near the pleasure coiling tight at the bottom of his stomach, licking up the base of his spine.

And he gives the base of Daniel’s cock one more squeeze before letting go, earning him a high whine, and he brings his hand up, watching as realization dawns on Daniel, and his eyes go wide and his pupils are blown so wide he looks like he’s experiencing the best high of his life, and then Armand dislodges his mouth from Daniel’s neck and spits into his own hand, trailing blood and drool down Daniel’s shoulder as he does so.

Daniel’s legs are trembling as Armand’s hand wraps around his dick again, and he sets a slow pace. It’s messy and sloppy, and not quite what Daniel likes, but he still unravels beautifully in Armand’s hands, breath catching in his throat as Armand’s tongue darts out to lick at his neck again, gathering up the blood and swallowing what he can, laying his tongue flat against Daniel’s skin and licking long stripes along his jawline and back down, and when he twists his wrist and rubs his thumb over the slit of Daniel’s dick, the tip of his tongue circles the puncture wound, dips in, and Daniel comes with Armand’s name dying on his lips.

Armand holds him up even as his knees buckle, and strokes him slowly through his orgasm, following the heave of his chest through the mirror as Daniel tries desperately not to float away. His cum paints the mirror, and slides down along it, and absentmindedly Armand wonders if Daniel would allow him to take photographs of him like this.

“Was I good?” Daniel slurs, head lolling back against Armand’s shoulder, a wide, spent smile on his face. Armand hums, and Daniel lets himself be turned in Armand’s arms, hides his face instinctively against the hollow of Armand’s throat, hands squeezing into fists in Armand’s coat.

“Yes, Daniel, you were very good”, Armand muses and takes a tentative step backwards, towards the bed on the other end of the room. Daniel follows on unsteady feet, but follows nonetheless.

Daniel lets himself be laid down on the bed, and there’s a glazed shine in his eyes, and his hands keep drifting up to poke and prod at the wound on his neck as Armand undresses, letting his clothes fall in a pile to the floor, they’re mostly ruined anyway. He takes a towel from the bedside table, and hauls Daniel into his arms, presses the cloth to his neck. Daniel hisses and tries to pull away, but his body is loose and pliable and Armand curls around him, tucks Daniel’s head under his chin and wraps his limbs tightly around him. He tries not to dwell on how strenuous all of this will be to clean later, and rather on the warmth of Daniel against him, the slight shiver in his limbs and the calming static of pain, of Armand in his head.

“Rest”, he whispers into the messy curls on Daniel’s head.

[r0seb100d]

so like. dallas x reader where like. reader is in some theatre thing (guys and dolls in the only relevant ish musical i can think of for the time.. mayb reader is playing adalaide idk!!) but like. he comes to see the show n is like damn that was hot let’s go home ong maybe it gets freaky eye dee kay.

can u tell i’ve never done an ask b4

Thank you for the request, I decided to keep it pg, I hope you enjoy! 🤍

Warnings: fem!reader, kissing

I like to light up the stage with a song

Nothing could beat the pure adrenaline rush of being on stage. The music, dance, costumes, makeup, and the cheers from the audience all flowed through y/n’s veins, fueling her with life and excitement.

She especially loved the current musical she was in, Guys and Dolls, as she had gotten her dream role of Miss Adelaide, the stubborn and outspoken nightclub singer. 

Every minute of rehearsal and performance brought a smile to her face, and it saddened her that this would be their final night. 

As she powdered her face in front of her teal light-up mirror, she thought of her plans for after the show, which were to meet up with Dallas and hang out at whatever particular place he had chosen for this evening. 

She knew musicals weren’t really his scene, but she still felt a little disappointment over the fact that he hadn’t even seen one of her shows despite her babbling on and on over how much she enjoyed playing Adelaide and how amazing this cast was. 

Once her hair and makeup were complete, she put on her first outfit for the show, which was her street outfit, a simple skirt with a shell blouse and scarf topped by a bright red jacket. It was definitely cute, similar to her own style outside of performing. 

Soon enough, it was time for places, and as soon as y/n made her way onto the stage for the last time this month, she was met with a shocking sight that almost made her stumble and forget all her lines. 

Dallas was there at her show. Not in the front row, of course, but she didn’t think those had great views anyway. But he was actually there. He had bought the tickets (she hoped) to come and see her perform. Though to many this wouldn’t seem like a major deal, it was to her. With Dallas, it was the small actions that really displayed his love for her, the things that absolutely no one else in the world could convince him to do. 

She couldn’t help but sneak small glances at him throughout the show, wanting the image of him watching her on the stage ingrained in her mind. He sat there in his usual manner, slightly slouched in his seat and his signature smirk on his face, not wanting to let on too much, fearing it would ruin his ‘rep’ or whatever. Though tonight, he looked really good. He hadn’t done much to his appearance, but his hair was pushed back a little, and he was wearing a black shirt with black trousers, and y/n would be lying if she said she didn’t want to jump off the stage and throw herself straight at him. 

Shaking away those thoughts, she refocused on giving her best delivery for the closing night, wanting everything to be perfect, especially now that Dallas was really here. 

His eyes were glued on her the whole time, ignoring anything and anyone else but her pretty figure in the pretty outfits she wore and how gorgeous her voice sounded as she sang. Though he did visibly tense in his seat every time Nathan’s actor got within an inch of her, not caring that it was his role, he wanted him far away from his girl; he wanted her to be with him, kissing him and touching him. 

The show soon ended, and Dallas waited by the back door of the theater, keeping at least 5 metres of distance between him and the crowd eagerly waiting for whoever they had come to see perform. 

He stared down at the slightly disheveled roses he had picked himself, debating if he should chuck them away as they looked slightly pathetic in his grip. Before he could decide, y/n came bouncing over to him, clearly still full of energy even after two hours on stage.

Her hair had been let down into loose curls, and she had cleaned off her garish stage makeup, and Dallas had to admit she looked sweet like this, all natural and fresh. Her stage look had been completely different from her usual look, but it had done something to him, revealed a different side of her he didn't know he would be attracted to, but oh, was he.

“What are you doing here?!”

She practically flung herself at him, clinging to his neck and breathing in his scent of cologne and menthol cigarettes.

“Thought I’d come and see what you’d been rambling on about for weeks.” He teased her, lightly squeezing her hip.

She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, well, I almost fainted from shock when I saw you.

“Really? The mere sight of me almost knocked you out, huh? I'm just that attractive.”

“In your dreams Winston. I was just happy to see you.”

“Mhm, sure doll.”

“Seriously. I had practically given up trying to convince you.”

“Well, if I had known you would have looked that hot��”

She pinched him in response.

“Hey! This was months of hard work and training.”

“I’m just messin’ with ya. You were incredible; I couldn’t keep my eyes away, and I can’t believe you’ve never sung like that for me before.”

“I never thought you’d be into that.”

“I’m into anything you do.”

He murmured with a small, genuine smile before holding out the roses to her.

“These are for you.”

Her eyes lit up at his gesture, picturing him choosing the nicest-looking flowers from the bush and tying them up together in the ribbon they were wrapped with.

“Thanks, they’re beautiful.”

“A little wonky lookin, but I wanted to bring you something.”

“I love them. I'm gonna keep them forever.”

Dallas leaned in and pulled her in against him, kissing her passionately, his love and desire pouring into the kiss. He cradled the back of her head and tugged her closer, both of their breaths increasing in pace and intensity. 

She could feel his hands wander down her sides, caressing her body over her clothes, desperate to feel more of her, but she reluctantly pulled away, out of breath and cheeks tinged pink.

“We should probably get out of here.” 

He glanced around, noticing that there were still people around, and nodded, wrapping an arm around her waist. 

“Yeah, c’mon. I’ll take you home.”

♱ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♱ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♱ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♱ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♱ . ݁₊ ⊹ .

౨ৎ1k words౨ৎ

[byanyan]

tfw you have severe social anxiety but your dog has to be excited to see people and will just run up to them to sniff & meet them...

[jackass-jones]

Not only did the Shinjiro social link during the femc route actually pull off whatever the fuck Kanjis entire toxic masculinity arc in p4 was supposed to be, it did it without the homophobia and awful friends

[bravewolfvesperia]

/ i will be completely honest, the biggest crime of the vesperia dub really is the almost total removal of yuri being so childish and pouty.

[everything-is-as-it-was]

I know I've waxed poetic about this before but the fact that Dan's letting go of this ironic, self-depracating, everything's-a-joke persona means SO much to me. Like don't get me wrong, it has value. I loved Dystopia Daily, for example.

But just the idea that last year, his cinnamon rolls were the "depressing" ones, the black ones, and this year, he's got the cute ghost mug, he's got the purple dye (when he originally wanted blue, but that's still not black!!) AND he has the lavender in it. Like. Visual storytelling right there imo.

Seeing Dan being able to come out of his shell more and really decide and show who he's going to be in this post-WAD era has been such a privilege. It really feels like him, not some wall that he puts up in order to avoid being earnest. Because before, he was able to hide all of that behind the sheet of a joke.

But now, he's so earnest. It radiates off of him. It's sickening. I love it. So yeah, whenever we see him making That Face, we're gonna tell him to stand the fuck up, but of course he knows how he looks, and he does it anyway because he's not afraid to show how much he cares anymore.

[ohimsummer]

GIRL, I NEED A TASTE ft. PUPPYBOY! SATORU

— minors dni, needy + lovesick + puppyboy! satoru x fem! reader, tít sucking, subby! satoru, humping (dryhumping??), breeding + creampie mentions

⭑ ࣪ ˖ sum’z notes.ᐟ i went a little overboard writing this <//3 strongest ‘puppy-dog eyes’ user everyone

wc 1.4k

you give puppyboy! satoru an inch, and he will take several miles.

he’s ready to pounce on you 24/7: when you wake up, when you return home, when you’re fresh out of the shower, when you come back from a 5 minute bathroom break during movie night. it’s insane the way, if it were up to him, your pussy would never know peace.

in satoru’s “defense”, he can’t help wanting to stuff you full of himself all the time. he loves you, he’s in love with you and, in his eyes, what better way to show it than the overwhelming amounts of euphoria he could put you both through? satoru loves to give, give, give to you; his heart, his attention, his affections, and his cum at the end of it all.

you suppose his reasoning is understandable, more so from satoru’s point of view, but fucking every minute of every day isn’t sustainable—it’s only fair you tell him ‘no’ sometimes. and that’s when satoru brings out the theatrics: whining, crying, whimpering and complaining about how he’s “sooo harddd” and he’ll “be super quick”. fluttering snowy white lashes to beg with those woeful, blue, puppy-dog eyes, glistening with tears that he seems to be able to summon on a dime.

satoru flashes you the cutest pout as he presses himself up against you, grinding his bulge against your ass as he nuzzles and nips at your cheek. slow, impatient sways of a fluffy tail, the perk of those twitching, adorable ears whenever you cast him even a glance. satoru whispers a hopeful “pretty pretty please…just once?” as he licks at the shell of your ear, raising goosebumps from your neck to spine.

it doesn’t matter, really. he can do it all for as long as his heart desires, because in the end…

…it’ll get satoru exactly what he wants every time.

the movie you put on isn’t nearly as immersive as you’d hoped. and even if it was, satoru keeps pulling your attention away with every nip and lick to your thighs.

“toru.”, you deadpan, and he instantly weaponizes those wide, doe-like eyes of his. paired with a slight wag of his tail, a friendly gesture which he aims to placate with, and satoru has easily dodged your annoyance once more.

you brush off his bad habit with a sigh before your attention returns to the screen in front of you. and then, not even five minutes later, the sharp poke of his fangs sinks back into the fat of your thigh. it’s always steady and deliberate; satoru wants to see just how much you’ll allow before jabbing an irritated finger to his forehead in disdain. meanwhile, once he’s satisfied with the depth of his teeth, he sucks harshly at the skin, glancing between you and the newfound hickey now blooming. then he goes in again, quicker but that’s only because he’s expecting a sure-fire dose of your wrath this time.

“satoru—“

“look!” he interrupts, tail wagging eagerly. “bit ya in the shape of a heart, because i love you.” technically not a lie, but not the full truth, either.

and you’re so distracted with looking at satoru’s little sign of affection, which is indeed adorably heart-shaped, you forget altogether your reasoning for addressing him in the first place: to chide him again on biting you so hard—which is all part of his plan.

it takes no time before satoru has squeezed way more out of you than you meant to give. when you stopped warning him about the biting, he readjusted to “cuddle” you. his head is on your chest like always, hands on your hips, but they quickly dip underneath the hem of your shirt to knead at your waist. and then they’re slithering up further, grazing at your underboob before finally squeezing one of your breasts.

“satoru.” he cowers under the angry heat of your stare. “if i have to tell you one more time…”

his tongue darts out to lap at your exposed neck, causing you to wriggle at the needy gesture. “ ‘m sorry, they’re like my little stress balls. can I touch, please?”

and you shouldn’t have relented and said yes. of course you shouldn’t have, you knew that. if you agree to this, he knows now that you’ll agree to pretty much anything. but satoru stares at you with those dreamy eyes, gleaming with stars to whisk you away to a bad decision. it takes a single, pleading blink as he gives you a small squeeze, and you have fallen victim to his spell once again.

your shirt is pushed up hastily to expose your tits, leaving them subject to satoru’s merciless greed. he pinches, pulls, and tugs with both hands and mouth, sinking fangs into every inch of your breasts since he cannot stand to not see signs of himself on them. because he thinks you’re pretty, duh, but he thinks you’re prettier when your body is spotted up with the marks he loves to leave.

not long after, he’s shed you of your pants, tossed somewhere over the edge of the bed. what started off as a slow grind has turned to satoru’s bare cock humping your thigh, searing and sticky as he leaks a mess of precum all over your skin. just the sensation of it sends an aching rhythm of throbs to your core, your painfully empty hole sporadically fluttering around nothing.

in your mind—buried beneath thoughts of this dreadful movie and the excruciating desire to have satoru’s cock battering your insides—are the very last remnants of willpower you cling to. you can visualize clearly the smug look sure to grace his face if you whine a single plea about satoru fucking you. after all, you’re the one who was all ‘no sex right now, ‘toru’. if you can’t keep your word for even one night, you might be just as sex-crazed as he is.

there is a nonstop background noise of his tail thumping and sweeping against the bed. satoru’s wags haven’t let up since you gave your first yes, and only grow stronger with each new whimpered plea you yield to. they pick up with the pace of his thrusts, a beat to harmonize with the sinful song of his desperate whimpers right before gojo reaches another high—he lets loose a muffled cry into your chest, still pathetically humping your leg like a lovesick mutt as he gushes yet another pool of cum to coat your thighs and panties. after that, his wags ease up to a slow, easygoing thud, now overpowered by the raspy heaves of air he sucks into his lungs.

and it’s the same song and dance every time. satoru takes a few minutes to catch his breath, and then he’s ready for another round. from the corner of your eye, you notice those teary blues have locked on to you. he tests the waters, gradually rutting against you again, mouthing at your breasts to see if you’ll tell him ‘that’s enough, ‘toru’. he is pleased when the words never come, and his actions only grow bolder the longer you let it go on; he licks at your jawline, down your neck before placing a few nips here and there. tweaks your sore nipples between his thumb and index, plunging his dick harder and faster along your thigh for another repeat of the last few hours.

with each daring action over the course of the night, satoru has dragged you a little closer towards the edge with him. first it was pushing your top up, next, it was taking off your shorts. then, it was a bold move of pawing at your clothed pussy, which almost turned into his hand in your panties if you hadn’t pinched his ear and told him no. though, he could just as easily get you to let him anyway if he asks in that very sweet voice of his, the one he always uses when he longs for something from you.

“can I take off your panties?”, satoru finally asks, tilting his head to stare you right in the face.

you won’t meet his eye, and he knows you won’t. because both of you know if you do, he will quickly shred that last bit of self-control at the tips of your fingers. a single bat of his lashes and you’ll be nodding your head, raising your hips so he can tear away your underwear. and then it will only be a matter of time before satoru’s pinning you down to stuff his cock in your walls as deep as you can take. it’s all he wants, all he craves. but as long as you avoid looking into his alluring eyes, you may hold off satoru and his contagious desires for just a little longer.

tagz: @blkkizzat @teddybeartoji @lxnarphase @hellkaiserinphoenix @cinnamoneve @satoruxsc @rosso-seta @sapphireandange @starlightanyaaa @manyno @sugu-love @leilalilox @sataraxia @apatauaia @luvvforliaa @purplegemadventures @v0ctin @kissesfrombelle @babytoshiii @biscuitsngravie @neptuneblue @staryukis ( HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN LOGANNNNNN😼😼‼️‼️💚🩵💛💚🩵💛💚🩵💛💚🩵)

[ataraxiaspainting]

360-Degree Vision.

Yan Silas x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, non-con, oral (male receiving), forced infantilization, Silas calls himself Mommy because he's a weirdo, and "force feeding".

Word Count: 700.

OC and art pictured above belongs to amazingly talented @meo-eiru!! i really love her art, so be sure to check her out!! <333

*~*~*~*

Silas only allows autumn leaves and snow to fall where your feet don’t touch but your eyes can still see.

It’s an odd sort of shape, the barrier he has around his tree. It reminds him of those little sketches you do he puts by his bedside table. He read from a book that human mothers do that whenever their children give them drawings, though you never gave yours to him per se. More likely than not you were waiting for a more special occasion, but he found them in your toy box whilst he was tidying up from another long day of taking care of you. 

What a unique art style you have – he read in the same book that human children’s little doodles can be nearly unrecognizable from what they are supposed to be most of the time, so he doesn’t question how the circles you drew kept going around and around and leading to nowhere.

A snail’s shell, perhaps? 

The spirals seemed too large and too filled… 

He’ll give you points for creativity. 

Positive reinforcement was key with these kinds of things, or so he’s been told – if you ever ask for a pet snail, he’ll get one for you in little to no time at all.

*~*~*~*

“Baby,” Silas’ smile is smaller because of the concern he has for you right now. “You have to finish your dinner. It’s good for you. When you finish we can go see little mushrooms and squirrels, okay? Only for a little bit though,” His right hand is still above your head, squishing you down when your body seems to want to get up too soon. “Mommy doesn’t want you to get sick again…”

Despite Silas sitting down, he was still more than half your height – your knees sink further into the mattress both of you are on.

They are shivering so much but he doesn’t notice.

No, it’s not that he doesn’t care – he’s too busy flaunting his length and chest to you to pay attention to how you actually feel, wanting you to pick your poison once again; seeing this as necessary to your development.

Last time for yesterday’s meals you chose his cock – the day before that you chose his breasts.

The more you suck from him, the more you’re given treats after. Something resembling those colorful markers you used to get at the local dollar store, containers of blueberry yogurt you hope came from his village’s cows or some similar type of animal, a new dress he had sewn himself or had customized and bought from a nearby elf tailor.

“I’ll even bring some paper and those pencils you like drawing with, hm?” Silas continues as he scoots closer to you – he holds your hair so gently now, but whenever he cries tears of pure happiness the grip will tighten quickly. “Maybe you can see a snail up close for those little spirals you like doing.”

…

No matter how much you rebel and kick and scream, the elf wouldn’t move back from you – if anything it gives him more of a reason to come closer, so you can have more of his ‘love’. After only a little bit of time, you learned how to let the frustration out in a way that didn’t have Silas doting over you so suffocatingly – drawing spirals. You were told once by a friend they can be therapeutic in times of stress. You most likely will never see her again but you would want to hug her because it works. 

You hid them amongst the dolls and building blocks you were given in times you were alone – staring at them made you feel less lonely, made you feel like you had more of a choice in how you spent your waking hours.

You didn’t expect Silas to find them. He never checks your toy box because you tidy it up so often.

You don’t know how to explain your drawings in a way Silas will understand. Not that he understands a lot of things that come out of your mouth.

You just nod. Maybe drawing a snail’s body below those spirals can help you too.

“Good girl! Listening so well!” His smile widens and you can see his eyes getting watery already.

[aajjks]

Hot Eve (m)

synopsis. getting fucked raw by your ex boyfriend stuck in an elevator on Christmas Eve.

warnings. 18+, ëxplïçït sêx, ünprôtëçtëd sêx, nønçøn sêx, stälkër ëx böÿfrïënd jk, yn ïs kïndä mørälïtÿ cørrùpt yn, ëlëvåtør sêx, yândërë thëmës, därk smüt.

note. LAST WORK FOR 2024!!!!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS TO MY CHRISTIAN FOLLOWERS! 🎄❤️❤️‍🔥. this year was hard as fuck. I’m not okay but let’s hope I’ll be so much happier starting from next year. enjoy this!!!! share feedback! gif credits to owner, found it on Pinterest.

December, 25th. It’s Christmas.

It’s the favorite time of the year for you, you love it, the cold, the sweetness of the blessings of Christmas. The streets are lit up. Merry atmosphere everywhere.

But all you feel is dread.

he’s near..

Your legs are on fire, your breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps as you sprint down the hallway.

The sound of his boots echoes behind you, heavy and deliberate. He's not running. He doesn't need to.

The elevator is so close-just a few more steps.

You slam your hand against the button, frantic, fingers trembling. The soft ding of the arriving elevator is barely audible over the roar of blood in your ears.

Don't look back. Don't look back.

But you do.

Jungkook is there, closing the distance with that infuriating, unhurried stride, his lips curled into a smirk like he's already won.

His black shirt clings to his muscular chest, and his eyes gleam with something feral, like a predator toying with its prey.

The elevator doors glide open, and you dart inside, stabbing the close door button over and over again. You're muttering under your breath, desperate, “Close, close, please just fucking close-“”

The doors start to slide shut, and relief washes over you. But then you see it-his hand. Thick, veined, and steady as it wedges between the closing doors.

The elevator jerks back open, and your stomach twists into a sick knot of dread.

Jungkook steps inside, slow and casual, like he's got all the time in the world.

There's something deliciously pathetic about the way you shrink back against the wall, like you honestly thought you could get away from him.

It's adorable. Pathetic, but adorable.

He lets the silence hang in the air for a moment, drinking in the sight of you.

Your chest is heaving, your cheeks flushed, and those pretty, wide eyes are staring up at him like you're terrified.

Good.

He steps forward, his boots heavy against the floor, until there's no space left between you and the cold metal wall.

“Really?”

You are so fucking dumb, but so cute.

He drawls, tilting his head as his lips curl into a lazy, mocking smirk. “The elevator? That's the best you could do?”

His voice drops, low and biting. “What were you gonna do, huh Ride it to safety? Maybe hide in your little fucking apartment and pretend I don't exist?"

He chuckles darkly, his tongue sliding over his teeth. “Cute. Stupid as fuck, but cute.”

Your throat is dry, and your legs feel like they're about to give out. He's so close now, the sharp scent of his cologne invading every breath you take, mixing with the heat radiating off his body.

“Jungkook, I'm serious. You need to leave,” you manage to say, though your voice comes out small and shaky, utterly unconvincing.

He laughs at you. A sharp, humorless sound that makes your stomach churn.

“Serious?" he repeats, arching a brow as if the word itself is a joke. “You're fucking hilarious, you know that? Acting all big and bad when you're shaking like a goddamn leaf.”

His hand slams against the wall beside your head, and you flinch hard. He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “Tell me to leave again. Go ahead.”

You will never… because you can’t.

“Let's see what happens.”

You're trembling, looking at him with those big, frightened eyes, and it's making his cock ache.

He hates how much he loves this— loves the way you run, the way you fight, like it's anything more than a game to him.

He tilts his head, dragging his gaze over you slowly, deliberately, like he's savoring every inch. You're perfect.

So fucking perfect when you're like this.

“Look at you,” he says, his voice low and sharp.

“Standing there all scared and pretty, like you don't know exactly how this ends.”

“You like this shit, don't you?” His hand trails down your side, possessive and unapologetic, and he smirks when you squirm. “Running away. Making me fucking chase you. You get off on it.”

Yes you do.

You try to push him away, your hands pressing weakly against his chest, but it's useless. He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head in one fluid motion, grinning when you gasp.

“Stop fucking pretending,” he growls, his eyes darkening as they lock with yours. “We both know you like it when I get like this. You fucking love it.”

You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the words stick in your throat. You hate how strong he is, how easily he can overpower you.

But what you hate more-what terrifies you- is that some part of you does like it.

God, he’s so hot..

“Let me go,” you whisper, though it sounds more like a plea than a command.

His grip on your wrists tightens, and he leans in closer, his breath hot against your lips. "

“Let you go?” he repeats, his voice mocking. “That's cute, baby. Real fucking cute.”

His free hand slides down to your waist, gripping hard enough to make you wince.

“Let's get one thing straight,” he murmurs, his tone dropping to something dark and dangerous. “You're mine. Every fucking inch of you. And I'm not letting you go anywhere.”

He's hard as a rock, the sight of you pinned against the wall, helpless and trembling, driving him wild.

His gaze drops to your lips, parted and soft, and it takes everything in him not to devour you right then and there.

“You can run all you want,” Jungkook says, his voice thick with lust and something darker.

“But you'll never fucking get away from me. Never.”

His fingers dig into your waist, his body pressing against yours, caging you completely. He wants to mark you, to ruin you, to make sure you never even think about leaving him again.

Your entire body feels trapped in a vice, his presence suffocating, overwhelming. You hate how he's looking at you-hungry, like he wants

to devour you whole, like he owns you. And maybe he does.

The words stick in your throat, caught somewhere between fear and something darker, something shameful…

Your cunt feels so damp.

You twist your wrists against his grip, but doesn't even flinch.

it's effortless.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, your voice shaky and thin. “This isn't-“

“This isn't what?” he snaps, cutting you off. His voice is low, rough, teetering between anger and lust. “What you wanted? What you've been fucking asking for this whole time?”

His fingers dig into your waist, and you feel the heat of his body press harder against yours. You can't look at him, can't handle the intensity of his eyes burning into you.

“Look at me,” he demands, his voice sharp enough to make you flinch.

You shake your head, keeping your gaze fixed on the wall behind him.

“I said look at me.”

He releases one of your wrists only to grip your chin, forcing your face up until you're staring into those dark, furious eyes.

His pupils are blown wide, and the muscle in his jaw ticks with restraint.

“See this?” he growls, his tone dripping with venom as his free hand grabs your thigh, hitching it against his hip,

“This is what happens when you try to run from me. When you act like you don't fucking belong to me.”

You're trembling under his touch, and it sends a sick, addictive thrill straight through him. He can feel the way your body betrays you, the way your breaths come quicker, the way your thighs press together even though you're still pretending to fight.

“Fucking liar,” he mutters, his lips curling into a sneer. "You say you want me to leave, but you don't mean it. You never fucking mean it.”

Jungkook knows you..

He drags his hand along your thigh, gripping it hard enough to leave marks, his body pressing closer, caging you completely.

You're his, every inch of you, and it pisses him off that you even thought you could get away.

“You think I'm stupid?” he spits, leaning in until his mouth hovers over yours. “You think I don't see the way you look at me yn?”

He mocks, licking his lips, his tongue teasing you.

“Fuck baby… you’re making my cock ache.” He groans, biting his lower lip, his hand leaves your thigh to settle on his own zipper.

Your eyes wide because you know what he’s about to do and you want to stop him, but no words come out of your mouth because your brain has stopped working.

All you can think, feel.. and smell is him.

“Fuck yn… I’ve been warning you for the longest time.. you have no idea how horny I am right now…” the way his eyes are clouded with lust tells you everything you need to know.

He looks like a feral animal.

He unzips his pants, letting it fall down and then he presses a button on the elevator, making it come to a halt. You shudder in fear.

“J-Jungkook..” you manage to slip out his name from your mouth, but before you can say anything else, he crashes his mouth to yours.

His tongue forces itself into your mouth as he uses his other hand to usher his boxers off. You whine in his mouth, trying to stop him but—

God, his tongue feels so hot.

Your pussy clenches as you both kiss. He’s not just kissing but he’s devouring you, his free hand cages you in, making sure you can’t escape.

His hard free dick is pressing against your stomach, his other hand hurriedly goes to your skirt, unzipping it he catches the hem of your underwear, he yanks it down, as his tongue completely dominates your mouth.

You moan helplessly.

But he doesn’t let you break the kiss,, you’re already soaking wet.

His teeth nip at your bottom lip as his tongues go to assault your mouth. Then without a warning he shoves his cock inside your wet right cunt.

A guttural moan escapes his throat as he growls into your mouth like a wounded animal.

He’s finally getting to fuck you after so long.

And your knees go weak, like jelly. It’s too late now.

He starts to pound into you hard and fast, your back slamming continuously against the elevator wall, he pulls you up by your hips and wraps your legs around his waist.

After finally breaking the kiss, his thrusts only her more brutal, you scream in ecstasy and pain, burying your face in his neck as you grip on his shoulders tighten.

“Fu-Fuck yn you’re going to make me fucking cum.”

Again, his hungry mouth finds yours, devouring with desperate kisses as he moves his hips, fast.

“O-Oh J-Jungkook…”

•••

Hours go by. You’re fucked out- he’s sweating, you’re actually paralyzed but he’s not stopping, uoure still stuck in the elevator, thank fully the fan of the machine is keeping you alive but the elevator reeks of sex.

What have you done? Getting fucked by your psychotic ex on Christmas Eve.

And he’s about to cum inside your cunt raw.

And you are going to do nothing about it. Like always.

“Merry fucking Christmas my love.”

[suiana]

yandere! cheater and gn! reader who's in their villain arc...

you've suspected that something was up when your boyfriend started to get busy with his work, coming home late, hiding his phone from you...

of course you just wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt that he really was just stressed from his work. he was yourboyfriend after all. you had to trust him, didn't you?

well everything was shattered when you found one of his side chicks under your shared bed. she was naked, only wearing a pair of undies while holding in her pee.

"wtf why are you hiding under here?"

"your bf doesn't want u to know that he's cheating. told me that he'd kill me if i came out."

yeah, so the girl was an asshole to get with your man when she knew that he was in a relationship but at least she told it to your face straight up. also she pissed herself while getting out from the bed so there's that.

meanwhile, your boyfriend was sobbing and crying when he came home. you had found out of his side affairs, a side he never wanted you to find out about. to be honest, your boyfriend didn't know why he he got with others in the first place. he had everything he could ever want in you. you made him feel alive, all the good things you know. being with you was like a dream come true and he constantly felt like tearing out his skin from how happy you made him.

you were his god.

oh, yeah, thinking about it now that's probably it. he felt that you were too good for him and didn't want to taint you. which... was why he resorted to sleeping with others.

shitty move, yeah he knows. don't need to repeat it.

but you... why were you so forgiving? you welcomed him back with open arms, sobbed a little and told him how hurt you were! he thought you'd have up and left by now!

but you didn't.

he knew you were too good for him, he had to treat you better now. he just had to, this was obviously you giving him a second chance, right? oh he just loves you so much!

unfortunately for him, it wasn't a second chance. no, you were about to absolutely ruin this man.

it started with the small things. small rumours about him ranging from how he had a small dick to how he's a pushover... you needed to start your plan slow, you know. tear his reputation of a good and sensible man bit by bit. gotta build up that tension teehee >w<

then from the rumours, you started manipulating the people close to him. crocodile tears, white lies, and a whole pity party for yourself... telling his friends and family members how your boyfriend was an absolute shit of a boyfriend, how he didn't treat you right and how he was the worst an alive... well, it wasn't much of a lie. he did spoil you and treat you like a deity but if he really treasured you why would he cheat in the first place? there's no space left in your life to pity him.

the most important part was to constantly reassure him that you loved him and to make sure that he never finds out that you were the one ruining his life from behind the scenes. can't let him find out that his angel lover is the one that's bringing him to social death now!

by this stage, your boyfriend was completely dependent on you. everyone around him was looking at him like he was the absolute scum of the earth. where did the rumours come from? why was everyone avoiding him? he couldn't even go to work without his coworkers side-eyeing him like he grew an extra head! he's just lucky he didn't get fired-

oh and what do you know. he got fired.

he comes home crying, an absolute mess and a shell of the man that he used to be. what was once a confident and charming man is now a desperate and pathetic boyfailure.

"baby i got fired, i'm so sorry. i don't deserve to be with you."

his arms wrap aorund your legs, tears staining your pants as he seeks comfort from the only person still left by his side. yes, you're the only person left dying for. even his own parents desserted him, yet you stayed. he's so thankful-

"yeah, you're right. you don't deserve me."

it's like time stops the second the words fall from your lips. he slowly looks up at you, eyes widening in horror as his tears dry up. what? was he growing delusional? he must've heard you wrong. no way his beloved god just said that!

"haha... you're so sweet baby. joking around in a time like this-"

"i'm not joking. you don't deserve someone like me."

you slap his hands away, looking down at him as he remains on his knees on the floor. you had a smug smile, expression all cocky as you even started to laugh.

"haha! did you really think i wanted to stay with you? fuck no! i have standards okay? i really didn't want to stay with a cheater!"

your boyfriend didn't know what to think. what were you saying? he doesn't understand. is this a late april fools prank? the way his heart was clenching and the way he felt his face paled shows just how much he doesn't like your words.

"babe stop-"

"i hate you god damnit. i really thought you'd be the one for me but no! you just had to go ahead and cheat!"

but you didn't listen to him.

"let's break up."

oh yeah, you hear that? that's the sound of his heart shattering.

he quickly crawls over to you, face pale as he grips onto your pants tightly. his hands shook with each word he uttered, tone desperate as tears streamed down his cheeks once more.

he never thought he'd start begging for someone to stay when it was usually the opposite but... you were his god. the one he's devoted his entire life too.

so he'll gladly get on his hands and knees for you if he has too. you can't leave him. he doesn't want to be alone.

"please! forgive me! i know i did something wrong but i'm trying! you can't leave me too!"

he looks up at you, face completely flushed as he continues to turn himself into an even bigger pathetic mess. he doesn't care what he looks like now. he's practically lost everything. he has nothing left to lose.

"i promise i'll be better! i haven't cheated since you found out last time! d-doesn't that count for something?"

he gives you a shaky smile, as though that would convince you.

it wasn't.

in response to his words, you could only give a disgusted expression, kicking him away before walking past him to the front door. what a pathetic man he was.

"you know, you look best when you're like this."

you state, glancing at him with a smile before turning to leave his house. well, there's that. your plan was complete and your now-ex boyfriend was absolutely destroyed.

so why did it feel like... something bad was about to happen?

you quickly look back at him, keeping your cool and remaining nonchalant before you feel the blood drain from your face. your best friend?! where did they come from?! and the fact that your crazy ex was holding a knife to their neck-

"no... don't leave me... you can't leave... i have no one else but you..."

what were you supposed to do now that he was holding your best friend hostage?

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - dub/con, afab!reader, cockwarming, medical malpractice, nonconsensual drug use, manipulation, unbalanced power dynamics, and obsessive behavior.

[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]

“It really is a shame to lose such a lovely patient.

His hand drifted from your thigh to your hip, rocking you back as you tried to squirm away from him. He was too deep, too big, and you’d been sitting on his cock for too long. Whenever you tried to shift your weight, though, the arm wrapped around your waist would tighten its hold and drag you back into place, leaving your ass slotted against his hips and your cunt struggling to clench around his base. You didn’t know how long he’d kept you like this, but it must’ve been longer than an hour, if not two, three, four. Despite your foggy senses, you could feel slick dripping down your thighs, an empty void in the pit of your stomach where pleasure should’ve been. You could remember hearing that Harper was a good doctor, but that couldn’t be right. Doctors weren’t supposed to make you feel so bad.

“I mean, I know it should be a doctor’s goal to see their patients off as happy and as healthy as can be, but—” He paused, sighed, and you could picture him rolling his eyes, feigning wistfulness as he let out an airy chuckle. “Good, obedient patients can be so rare, especially in a town like this. I’m allowed to mourn the loss of my best charge yet, aren’t I?”

You felt him twitch inside of you, and in search of a distraction, your gaze fell to the collection of papers fanned out over the desk in front of you. You knew you were supposed to be reading them, but the text seemed so impossibly small, and your last round of medication was still clouding your senses, making it hard to focus on much of anything beyond the throbbing in your core, the feeling of his cock stretching you open despite your body’s best attempts to force him out. You could recognize the phrases, signal out words like ‘unfit’ and ‘dependent’ mixed in with the rest of the benign text, but when you tried to put it all together, none of it made sense. It was all you could do to check the boxes Harper pointed to, sign your name on any dotted lines that hadn’t already been filled by his. You could only hope that, when you finished, he’d let you stand up, get off of him, go back to your cozy room with its nice, soft padded walls. You couldn’t imagine having to sleep in his office, again.

“And you’ve been so cooperative, too,” he went on, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You felt his lips against the shell of your ear, then your cheek. “Always taking your medication, always following your treatment plans, always coming to our little sessions with an open-mind – the pinnacle of an ideal patient. Honestly, sometimes I think I could tell you to stick your hand in a vat of boiling water, and you’d do it with a smile on your face. All for the sake of your recovery, of course.”

It was him moving, this time – shifting forward until your stomach was pressed against the blunt edge of his desk and he was all-but draped over you, his body pressed flush against yours. You let out a pitchy whine by way of protest, but Harper didn’t seem to notice, only humming as his hand found yours. “Almost done, little mouse. Just one more page.” He was practically cooing as he took you by the wrist, guiding your hand to the bottom of the final page. Two thick, cutting lines occupied most of the available space, his neat signature taking up the first. He brought you to the second, almost daunting in its vacancy, his index finger tapping against the back of your hand. “You remember your name, right? Can you write it for me?”

It was so hard to think, to stay awake, to try and remember a time where he hadn’t been planted so deeply inside of you. “If…” you started, only to trail off. You blinked once, then twice, and did your best to force your tongue to move. “If I do, can I go home?”

Usually, Harper hated it when you talked about the orphanage, about school, about home. You hadn’t meant to, you just wanted to go back to your room, and you moved to correct yourself, to promise that you didn’t want to be anywhere but this hospital, his hospital before he frowned and prescribed you another electrotherapy session, another dose of the small, white pills that left your thoughts blurred and your body hot. But, anything you might’ve been able to spit out died with a breathy laugh, a peck to the corner of your jaw. “Of course,” he purred, rocking his hips gently against yours. “Sign, and I’ll take you home tonight.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt yourself start to smile. Hastily, smudging the ink more than once, you scrawled your name across the brutal line, dropping the pen and going slack against Harper as soon as you were finished. There was another open-mouthed kiss to your throat, then the dip of your shoulder, and he dragged you back onto his lap with a playful squeeze to your thigh, a grin pressed into the crook of your neck. You squirmed unabashedly, now, your hands  graspingly weakly at the arms of his chair in hopes of pulling yourself to your feet, but Harper held you tight. “Where do you think you’re going, little mouse?”

“I need to— You said I could go—”

“Just give me another minute, darling.”

His cock pulsed against the walls of your cunt, and you felt something break open inside of you.

“I want to appreciate this moment before we get you to proper, brand-new home.”

[pervertwhore]

LEON'S GUILTY PLEASURE

SIREN IS TYPING . . writing debut! :33 this is my first ever leon fic, so please be nice! 3: i accidentally went a bit too far and made the word count 9.4k words..um..enjoy! reblogs and replies are really helpful & help me stay motivated so if you have any kind words to share, please do! i would love to hear them! i’m sorry for the really long delay in posting this but UHHH!!! idk ;(( my bae 3k helped me with the plot for the call & i hope i tagged everyone ^_^ i did my best to proofread so hopefully it’s good!

CONTAINS: older man leon! x pornstar! reader — age gaps, alcoholism, mutual masturbation, leon is co-depended with your content, he adores you, hinted erectile dysfunction, leon is lonely and sad, reader is there to put on a show for him, video call sex, dildo use, etc!

SYNOPSIS: a lonely man copes with two things, alcohol and porn, one night he comes across a video that catches his eye, pushing him down a spiral of coping through you. he adores you and your work, his only want in life is to get closer to you, and when you make a contest and offer the winner a chance at a one on one call with you, leon jumps at the opportunity.

slumping down onto his bed, a drunk leon kennedy, sat back.

a small groan left his lips as nausea swirled around inside his stomach, he didn’t have food in his system, and his stomach was full of whiskey.

aerial shoot, his favorite.

but, fuck. he overdid it, throughout the whole evening he had been nursing a new bottle of the bitter whiskey, drinking it down like it was water, not caring about the way it burned his throat. by now it was empty, the drug seeping into his system like a blanket, making his body feel hot.

slipping down onto his bed, leon stared blankly at the roof, the room was dark and quiet.

he wasn’t tired, he was drunk, but not tired. another groan came from him, his large calloused hand moving to his face. he rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the throbbing sensation in his head. he had always been tolerant of alcohol, but tonight his body couldn’t take it anymore. he thanked a higher being for not being insanely nauseous, he wasn’t in the mood to spew up the alcohol.

he let out a deep breath before he reached out and grabbed his phone.

hitting the power button, his eyes shut immediately as the blinding light of his phone hit his eyes. “jesus, fuck—“ he grunted, quickly turning down the brightness.

looking at the screen, he wasn’t surprised when he was met with an empty inbox. no texts, no calls, no emails.

a sigh left his lips, the reminder of his loneliness brought a heavy weight inside his chest. looking to his side, there was an empty spot next to him, the bed was cold.

he was lonely.

despite what he tried to tell himself, he craves romance, he craves stability. the idea of living a happy married life was something he dreamed about when he was younger, before 1998, before he became what he is now. now he scoffs at romance because deep down, he knows no one would want to be with an alcoholic old man. his prime is gone a distant memory. he feels like a shell of himself, he doesn’t have much to live for now.

the cycle of self-hatred and self-loathing was part of his daily routine, at night, he gets lost in his thoughts.

he can’t go a day sober, it would kill him. at least that’s what he thinks.

the memories of the people he had lost haunt him, no matter how much time passes, the vacant space he has in his heart doesn’t go away. no matter what he does to try and get rid of it.

the dating scene wasn’t for him, not anymore, not at this age.

he could go and pay for hookers and prostitutes to fulfill his sexual needs, but it was never enough. the pleasure was temporary.

he wasn’t happy.

leon hasn’t been happy in a long time, so long in fact, he doesn’t remember how it feels.

his gaze focused on his phone, he wanted to stop thinking. he needed to forget everything, his grief, his anger, his loneliness. that’s why he relied on alcohol, but tonight he didn’t want to drink himself to sleep.

so, that left him with one more option.

opening the internet on his phone, his dull eyes focused as his fingers typed.

pornhub.com

this was pathetic, leon thought to himself. he was pathetic, and he knew that, but that didn’t stop him from pressing on the top link.

his thumb tapped against the glass screen, entering the website.

he was quickly met with the thumbnails of various sexual acts. from girls with a cock shoved down their throats, to girls getting folded while a man is on top of them. leon was uninterested.

he never liked porn videos made with high production, it was fake, unappealing. the bright lighting, the obnoxious moaning, and the stupid faces the girls make. it was ick worthy, leon always preferred amateur porn. it was charming when a video was poorly produced, with bad quality, and crooked angles. he liked that over other porn videos.

opening the search bar, he typed the word amateur. after clicking search, he scrolled down various videos before he found one that caught his attention.

it was a masturbation video, the title wasn’t crazy either.

college girl masturbates solo :)

it was cute, the little smiley face felt so out of place on a site like this, but it piqued his curiosity. in the thumbnail your hands were between your thighs, and the position of your phone was up — like you were taking a selfie. he didn’t see much of your face, by the angle he could only see your soft lips as you bit your bottom lip. you were wearing a cute set of lingerie, too.

there was something so cute about you, from the cutesy title and your pretty lingerie, his curiosity lead him to click on the video.

the video loaded and the first thing he saw was your breasts as you adjusted the camera down. you were holding it yourself, the camera facing you. as the camera moved down, he saw your hands slipping down to your panties.

he couldn’t see your face, seems like you were shy.

he watched with anticipation as your fingers pressed against your clothed cunt, rubbing slow gentle circles on your clit. turning up the volume of his phone, he heard the way your breath hitched. he could see as your tummy moved up and down with every breath you took.

leon’s stomach tightened as blood began to rush to his cock, his hand moving to palm against his pants as he got hard.

after a minute of teasing, you put the phone down against your bed, leon heard fabric shuffling. after a few seconds, you grabbed the phone again. the angle stayed the same, but now he could see your pretty pussy.

it was slick, glistening.

his mouth went dry as he took in the sight, your manicured fingers gently pressed against your perky clit, your touch was light, and you were savoring the pleasure.

leon heard a soft moan leave your lips, his hips squirmed as he grabbed his cock through the fabric of his pants. his hand moving to slowly grope himself.

he continued to watch with eager eyes, his hand moving to unbutton his jeans and unzip his pants. eagerly, he slipped his hand under his underwear, his hand pulling his cock out.

it was standing tall, pre-cum leaking from the slit.

he shuddered, he hasn’t been this hard in what felt like forever. he genuinely thought he lost his spark, he was in his late thirties after all.

his hand wrapped around his cock, a shaky breath left his lips as he squeezed it. his cock was thick, it wasn’t the biggest there was, but it would leave girls dumbfucked. or well, it used to. he hasn’t gone that hard in a while.

his cock was pretty, his tip was reddish, veins adorned it. the ones that made the girls mushy and whimpery.

the mental image of the girls he’s shoved his cock into filled his head. truthfully, he doesn’t really remember faces, but he remembers how they reacted. their bodies trembling and loud moans.

oh, how he missed it.

as he stared at your pretty pussy, all he could think about was shoving his cock deep inside you. have you whimpering and gasping his name as he kept you folded.

his cock twitched, fuck.

you were getting him so hard, he didn’t even think it was possible given his track record in the last few years. biting the inside of his cheek, he let out a breath, he was this hard over a girl on a porn website, but he couldn’t get this hard when he was balls deep inside a hooker’s cunt. god, this was pathetic.

pathetic, pathetic, pathetic..

you’re pathetic leon.

even as the words repeated in his head, his hand was still working on his cock, jerking and tugging on his shaft. his eyebrows were furrowed and his lips parted slightly, keeping his gaze on you, he watched as you rubbed your clit faster.

he could hear your small shaky moans, you were close and so was he.

his balls were tightening, his breathing was heavy, small pants leaving his lips as he rubbed his cock raw. chasing for a high he hasn’t felt in years.

a choked groan left his lips as he came, cum spurting out of his tip in amounts he hasn’t had since he was in his twenties. his cum was milky and thick. he continued to gently jerk his cock as he rode out his orgasm, another groan leaving his lips as his head leaned back.

his eyes fluttered shut as he felt his cock softening in his hands.

holy fuck.

his mind was fuzzy, he had almost forgotten about his phone until he heard a moan come from it. he moved his gaze towards the screen and watched as your hand stayed between your thighs before they slammed shut and you began to ride out your orgasm.

leon watched with eager eyes as you rode out your high nicely.

he squirmed and let go of his flaccid cock, his cum staining his hand, his stomach, and his pants.

he moved his hands and they gripped his phone again, he tapped on your username and watched your profile. your profile picture was a shy picture of your chest, a different set of lingerie holding your tits up.

looking at your bio, he shuddered as he read your information.

your name was pretty, it suited you. he saw your age listed, twenty-one, he just had the cum of his life to a video of a twenty-one-year-old? a feeling came to him, he didn’t know how to feel. staring at his screen, his mind still processing that information, should he be disgusted? guilty? ashamed?

he sucked in a breath and gulped.

him, a man in his late thirties, almost forty, just came to a video of a twenty-one year old girl.

it felt wrong, right? she was almost two decades younger than him, when the racoon city incident happened you weren’t even born yet. this had to be wrong.

but it wasn’t, and he knew that.

sure, the gap was questionable, but it was legal. yet, he felt so..wrong.

the worst part was that even after he realized this, he still watched your other videos.

choked moans left your glossy lips, your eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed up in pleasure. your mouth was slightly agape, forming an ‘o’ shape. leon’s cock slamming down into your cunt, his hand was placed on the small for your back as he held your upper body down and kept your ass up.

he let out small pants, his eyes shutting in bliss.

your walls were warm and snug, sucking his cock back inside your cunt with a wet squelch. you were so wet, your cunt practically drooling. it was driving him mad.

his free hand was gripping your ass, holding onto the fat like his life depended on it, his dull nails digging into your skin. he let out a guttural groan as he felt your pussy tighten around him, squeezing, milking him. he didn’t have the self control he had back then, he was edging himself to try and last longer.

it was hard, his balls were heavy with cum, cum he wanted to stuff deep inside you.

his eyes shut tightly, he bit down onto his bottom lip, his thrusts got sloppily — fuck, fuck, fuck. “s-shit—“ he choked out, his head leaned back as a whimper slipped past his lips. his cock throbbed no matter how hard he tried to stop himself, his cum spurted out of his tip.

he shook as it spurted in waves, his eyes fluttered open and he panted. “sorry—“ he said, feeling bad for not letting you cum first and filling you up without any form of protection. you hummed in reply, your ass still in the air as he pulled out. his cock getting softer, his lidded gaze watched as his cum slipped out of your puffy pussy, falling in glops onto his sheets.

he felt hot as he watched it, he was about to say something when—

his eyes opened and a shaky breath left his lips, it took a moment for him to adjust to his surroundings. quickly sitting up on his bed, leon was met with the saddening realization he was alone.

you weren’t sleeping next to him, his bed was cold.

not only that, but his pants were wet. he pulled the blanket off his body and groaned when he realized he had cum inside his pants. rubbing his forehead, he slipped off his bed groggily.

it was still dark out, his bedroom was completely dark aside from the natural light of the moon that entered through his windows.

leon hastily took his pants and underwear off, throwing them across the room to where he thought his laundry basket was. he walked to his cabinets and dug into his underwear drawer before he put them on, stumbling a bit before he finished.

running his hands through his hair, he stalked over to his bed and laid down.

reaching out for his nightstand, he grabbed his phone, this time he was mindful of the brightness so he adverted his eyes and quickly lowered it before staring at the screen.

no new messages, he frowned, except an email. it was an advertisement.

he scrolled through his apps and found one, the one you’re most active on.

instagram.

leon was rather clueless about social media, but the only reason he had it was to stalk your account. he opened the app and saw that you had uploaded a new story. he quickly tapped on the bubble and watched through your posts.

you were out that night, you took photos and various videos of the night. wearing a little black dress, your tits were practically spilling out, one wrong move and your panties would be exposed. you looked beautiful though, he adjusted himself in his bed and stared at the picture you captioned ‘fit check! :D.’ he couldn’t get over how cute your little captions were, it was humorous. a cute little emoticon at the end of a text while the picture behind it was you in the sluttiest outfit you could find.

biting the inside of his cheek, leon took a screenshot of the story and continued to scroll by your posts.

you looked so happy, so pretty. leon loved the way you smiled, all teeth, it all seemed so genuine. you were with your friends in the videos, giggling and dancing along to whatever song the club was blasting.

after he finished going through your story, he clicked on your account, no new posts. a deep sigh left his lips as he put his phone back on his nightstand and turned to his side. pulling the blankets up, it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep once more.

leon wasn’t sick.

he wasn’t a bad man, he wasn’t a freak, he was just lonely.

he was lonely and desperate, that’s what he told himself. he had this lingering guilt that manifested in the back of his head, you’re a sick man, leon. that’s what it repeated, every night, while he re-watched your videos and looked through the photos he had saved, it spoke.

sick. you are sick.

leon swore he wasn’t, he was just a broken man. one that found solace in you.

the age gap was eating him up inside, he had never thought of himself as someone who would find girls in their twenties attractive. yet, where he was.

he didn’t want to imagine what people would say if they found out he jerked off nightly to the thought of you. not just your videos, but the thought of you. he found himself daydreaming about you, not just in sexual situations, but romantic ones.

at the store he finds himself looking at the flower display, thinking about getting you flowers, trying to guess what flowers you would like the most. in public, when he saw couples, a bitter swirl churned in his stomach. jealousy, he was jealous that he couldn’t do the same with you.

this was developing into more of a followership, it was slowly seeping into the realm of obsession. delusion was his best friend.

occasionally, you participated in live streams.

it was cute, you were more talkative there, and you interacted with your followers happily. he was a quiet supporter, he didn’t use the chat room. you were too intimidating, he didn’t want to say something that could make you uncomfortable. he mostly gave you gifts, sending in money for you, he didn’t say much when he donated. occasionally he would type a small message for you to read with each donation, but it was rare.

that didn’t matter though. being able to hear you say his name, albeit his username, made him happy.

in these live streams, he’s been able to learn a lot about you. he knows you’re a college student, he knows you’re studying literature, he knows you’re a good student, he knows your favorite food, your favorite animal, how you like to spend your time, and much more.

he knows more about you than the people he knows in his life.

tonight, you had scheduled a livestream. posting about it on your instagram story.

‘i’m gonna be live tonight at 8 p.m. come by to talk, and i have a surprise too! >_<’ leon was curious, a surprise? so, of course he entered the stream after you started it. he needed to know what you were planning, maybe he could be part of it.

you sat in front of your camera and greeted all of the people coming in.

leon stared at you, you were so pretty, he thought. god, he felt like a teenage boy.

get a fucking grip.

your eyes focused on the screen where the chat box was opened, he watched as your eyes lit up, “welcome back, kennedy!” you said, looking back at the camera. looking straight at him.

his mouth went dry when you addressed him.

he clicked on the chat box, looking through to see if there was another kennedy, he didn’t want to jump straight to conclusions and embarrass himself. but there was no one else with the display like that.

SKENNEDY001

okay, he wasn’t very good at making usernames. he stared at his screen, unsure of what to do. you addressed him, should he say hi back? he’s never spoken in the chat room before. what if this went wrong?

slowly tapping on the keyboard, he replied with a simple. ‘hello, how are you?’ — best he plays it safe, right? his face feels hot, and he feels embarrassed. he’s always been more of a silent admirer, honestly, he never expected you to actually notice him. all sorts of different thoughts filled his head, from negative to positive. what would people think, what would you think if you found out that the biggest reason you’re paying your bills was because of some man in his late thirties who watches your content like it’s the news.

but what if you were into that? he’s heard stories about girls thinking older men were attractive, were you that type?

“i’ve been good!” you replied, snapping him out of his flood of thoughts. “i’ve seen you around, i think you might be my biggest fan.” you winked.

leon’s heart was practically beating out of his chest, he knew you meant it like a compliment, but it felt like you were pointing out how much of a lonely loser he is. “i just wanted to say thank you, your donations really help.” you said with a smile, that same pretty smile that drove him crazy, the smile he adored.

he didn’t know what to say, if he wanted to, he could write a detailed essay about you and how much he admires obsesses over you.

‘you’re welcome.. i like to support you.’ he typed back, after hitting send, he squirmed. did that sound weird? staring at your face intensely as you read through the chat, you let out a small laugh. “thank you, kennedy.” you replied, looking back at the camera. seeing how full the stream was getting, he decided that this was the end of the conversation.

his chest felt fuzzy, a feeling he hadn’t had in years, a feeling he had completely forgotten about.

he was obsessed with you.

the stream continued smoothly, you teased the camera, showing off your body and tempting the men, like him, who watched. by now he needed to rub one out during your streams, who would he be if he didn’t?

the stream was coming to a close, but before you spoke. “oh! the surprise from earlier, i almost forgot.” you said with a small laugh as you leaned back against your chair.

“basically, i was thinking, why not have a little contest.” you said, smirking at the camera. “imagine this is an auction,” you said, “the highest bidder gets to have a private, on one, video call with me.” you said, looking at your camera. “who knows, maybe that call can lead to something else.” you hummed, winking at the camera as you slid your hand down your chest.

leon blinked, a call with you? it was a dream come true. the only thing this lonely man could ask for.

you continued on, opening a gift box for anyone who wanted to get a chance with you.

he ignored how this could lead to poor financial decisions, he needed that call. he needed you for himself, he needed you to address him — to talk to him, he needed your attention like a lost puppy.

the gift period was only open for about fifteen minutes, first come first serve type of thing.

luckily, unlike the other people in the stream, he’s a government agent. with that title comes money, so as a way to secure that call, he sent you thousands.

he watched as you read the screen, your eyes widening as you saw the notification come in that you had received a few thousand dollars from your shy admirer. “holy shit.” you gasped, “okay— we have a winner! we have skennedy001 that donated over a thousand dollars!” you said, stammering as surprise filled your bones. “i’m closing the bid, that’s way too much money!” you said, giggling as you shut the bid off.

the people in the chat were going crazy, some were taking the loss like losers while the others congratulated the mystery man.

not too long after the stream ended, leon shut his phone off and stared at it. a deep breath left his lips, he didn’t know what to expect after being called the winner, but when he got a notification someone had messaged him through the streaming app, he opened it.

what he didn’t expect was to have a message from you in his inbox.

‘hey, kennedy! omg, that donation was insane! i didn’t expect that much money, please let me give you some money back! i really don’t deserve that much!! :,,)) you’re so sweet, and i appreciate it sososo much!!’

leon stared at the screen, double-checking that it was really you that had contacted me, his face got hot, did he overdo it? was that too desperate? oh, definitely it was, but still.

running his fingers through his hair, he began to type back, trying to brainstorm what to say, but after a solid five minutes of debating his options, he finally replied.

‘hello, i’m glad you appreciated it, but no. it’s okay, you can keep all of it. that’s the reason i donated it. spoil yourself.’

he typed back, his icy blue eyes hyper focused on the screen, he watched as in the span of a few seconds a small text bubble popped up as three dots bounced around. you were replying.

‘aww! are you sure? like, a 100% sure? i’m just making sure!! i just don’t wanna feel like i’m stealing from you, or something LOL!’

your text was cute, lighthearted, and warm, you were so considerate. he liked that, and his thumbs began to type out a reply.

‘no, no. it’s okay, really. just enjoy yourself.’

he replied he was trying his best to not seem uninterested. he has been told many times before that he was very “dry texter” — he had been told how uninterested he sounded with his texting habits and how it could make someone want to stop replying, and he didn’t want that. he just wasn’t sure what to say.

‘omg i am so grateful for your kindness! i’ve seen you in my streams a lot, i have honestly wondered about you. i’m glad you won the bid, tbh i wanted you to win LOL it gave me a reason to talk to you!’

oh my god. leon’s eyes widened slightly at your text, you were bold, is this how it feels like to get butterflies? he blinked, how was he supposed to reply? he’s never texted a girl in her twenties, what do girls like? what will keep you interested?

‘oh, yeah?’ he replied, reverting back to his usual dry texts, but you were lively, you knew how to keep the conversation going.

the conversation was sweet and lengthy, you ended up suggesting you move to your instagram messages so she could talk to him more often.

leon’s heart was practically going to explode out of his chest, he was giddy yet nervous. you had told him that you guys could arrange the video call for the next day at night after you finish some college work.

he was stressed, leon wasn’t sure what to expect. he’s seen your pretty face, but you haven’t seen his. his instagram profile is of an old landscape photo he took a while back, what if the camera isn’t flattering for him? he did warn you that he was in his late thirties? he didn’t want you to get your hopes up for a younger man. maybe he should just keep his camera off.

nonetheless, that night, he went to sleep happier than he has been in a while.

≻ the next day, leon was practically counting down the hours, the minutes, the seconds, until he got to see you. in the morning, he had been excited — the people around him noted his giddy attitude, but when asked why, he didn’t say anything.

he couldn’t expose himself.

but as the clock ticked and the hours passed by, leon found himself much more nervous than he’s ever been. he doesn’t want to fuck this up, in his delusion. he thinks that if this goes well, maybe, just maybe, this could evolve to something more.

you were so sweet to him last night, but the more he thinks about it, perhaps it was flattery.

he hadn’t thought about it now, this might just be all an act. something to keep him wrapped around your pinky finger, but he decided to push those thoughts down so he wouldn’t spoil his night.

once he reached his place, leon was angsty, the sun was slowly going down. the sky was a beautiful mix of warm colors: orange, red, and yellow. he could also see a hint of blue mixed in as the night sky began to slowly settle.

entering his apartment, he slipped inside the door and shut it behind him. locking it, a person could never be too safe, right?

he kicked off his shoes and slipped off his jacket, he haphazardly threw his jacket on his sofa before he made his way over to his room. he plopped down onto his bed and slipped his phone and flask out of his back pocket. opening the flask, he raised the metal container up to his lips and took in a quick shot of whiskey.

he couldn’t go into this sober.

letting the flask rest on his lap, he opened his phone and opened instagram. he looked at the messages he had with you. oh, he forgot to reply to your last message a few hours ago. he pursed his lips, fuck he feels bad, leon wasn’t an avid texter, so it was easy for him to forget.

‘sorry for the late reply, i was working.’ he hit send before he could register how “dry” that sounded, he quickly scrambled to text a bit more, so he didn’t seem too boring. ‘i’m nervous for the call.’

why would he say that?

leon shut his eyes, he was really bad at this.

after a few minutes of leon anxiously waiting for your reply, a ping came from his phone. quickly looking down at the screen, he saw that you replied.

‘aww, don’t be nervous! i don’t bite, unless you want me to ;)’

he let out a breath at your words, it felt like you always knew what to say, the number of times you’ve said something sly during the conversation that had his chest fuzzy must be over ten in the span of twenty-four hours.

leon started to type back, but he stopped mid-sentence. he wasn’t sure what to say, he was fumbling over his words, and no sentence he tried to type up made sense.

he saw your text bubble pop up, you were typing.

‘what? did i make you nervous? ;p’ — yes, yes you did.

he felt like he was in his early twenties, stumbling and stammering when a pretty girl gave him attention. jesus, has it really been that long since he’s felt something like this? god, that’s so sad.

leon ran his fingers through his hair, pushing his dark hair back, ‘yes, i don’t know how to behave when a pretty girl is talking to me.’ now it was your turn to blush, leon leaned against his headboard as he stared at his phone.

‘ohhh? is mr. kennedy getting bold? ;)) i’m excited for the call, just give me one more hour ♡’

‘take your time.’

during that hour, leon decided to try and freshen up, at least a bit. he knew he wasn’t going to turn on his camera, but maybe getting refreshed would make him feel more confident in himself.

he changed out of his work clothes and took a quick shower, he slipped on some comfortable sweatpants and a black compression shirt that he typically used when he was working out. as he looked at himself in the mirror, he noticed the eye bags that hung under his eyes and the stubble that covered his cheeks and chin.

moving his hand up to his face, he ran his fingers through his stubble and sighed as he felt the facial hair scratching his skin. should he have shaved this morning? he didn’t know, he hadn’t been bare-faced in a few years now, as he aged the clean look he used to have didn’t fit him anymore.

reaching over for his flask that he had left on the bathroom counter, leon quickly took another swing of his flask and then sighed as he put it back on his counter.

he was so fucking nervous and for what? he’s been face to face with death before, he’s encouraged over thousands of zombies in his lifetime and yet he’s so nervous at the idea of talking to you.

feeling his phone buzz in his pocket, leon scrambled to take it out before looking down at his screen. it was you.

‘okay! i’m ready, are you? ;)’ — no, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be, but he replied, ‘yes. how does this work?’ he replied, unsure of what you were planning.

he watched as the text bubble popped up from your end as you typed again, ‘its suuuper easy! i’ll set up a voice chat and send you the link, then i’ll turn my camera on so you can see me!’ biting his bottom lip, leon moved out of the bathroom and sat down in his bed, his back resting against the headboard as he stared down at his phone.

‘okay, i’ll wait for you.’ he replied as he tried to relax, letting out a deep sigh, leon shut his eyes for a few seconds before he felt his phone buzz again.

looking back at the screen, you had sent him a link.

‘here it is! ;)’ the text said, his thumb hovered over the screen as he bit the inside of his cheek and hesitated before quickly tapping the link. the link opened up another website, the same one you use for streams. it took a few seconds for it to load, but he could tell his camera was off and his mic was muted.

okay, good.

eventually, the screen loaded and he saw you, you were wearing a cute tank top of a band, he’s seen the band name around before. it was popular back in the early 2000s, you didn’t have any sexy clothes on, it was actually cute. it made you feel even more real.

“hi!” you said as you waved at the camera, “let me know if the camera and audio are working properly, sometimes the app gives me issues,” you said with a smile as you stared at your screen. leon went to open the chat box, but he realized that if he wanted to make the most out of this call, talking to you would better.

taking in a deep breath, he cleared his throat and unmuted his microphone. “..it works,” he said, his face feeling hot as he spoke.

leon had always been rather charming and talkative in real life, so why was he so shy? it wasn’t anything like him, did his loneliness really ruin him? your eyes lit up when you heard his voice, surprised he spoke.

he watched as a smile curled on your lips, “i’m glad!” you said, leaning in closer, giving leon a full view of your cleavage, he noticed a black lace bra underneath your shirt. tilting your head to the side, you hummed, “soo..how was your day?” you asked curiously as you stared up at the camera with a small smirk. leon hated how quick it was for him to feel pressure growing in his pants when it came to you.

why was it so easy to get hard for you?

“it was good..you?” he asked softly, his hand slipping down his body to grip his cock through his pants. your smirk turned into a smile, “my day was good too! thank you for asking,” you hummed, “so, what do you want to do?” you asked, leaning back against your chair as you moved your hand to hold your tit, squeezing the mound playfully. “it’s just you and me, no need to be shy.” you winked.

leon squirmed in his bed, “..i don’t know actually,” he muttered, “i never got to decide how i wanted to approach this.” he said, squeezing his bulge and sighing. “..i wanted to just talk and get you know you more, but..” he trailed off, unsure if he should tell you that his cock was hard at the mere sight of you.

you seemed to get the hint when you heard the shaky breath that left his lips, “got too excited, didn’t you?” you teased, biting your bottom lip as you batted your eyelashes to the camera. “it’s okay, let me help you.” you offered, that pretty smirk of yours coming back to your lips.

leon’s eyebrows furrowed as he felt his cock throb inside his pants.

“..a-are you sure? i don’t want to ruin the call.” leon murmured, his voice uneven as he tried to resist the urge to slip his hand under his pants' waistband.

a small laugh left your lips as you shook your head, “of course not,” she said playfully, “you won this call, you get to choose whatever we do.” you said, “what’s your name?” you asked, moving to press your arms together to have them push up your tits.

leon let out a sigh and watched with a hazy look in his eyes as you pressed your chest together. “it’s leon.” he replied quickly, now eager to have you say his name.

humming, you smiled, “okay, leon. should i take off my shirt? i have a new pair of lingerie just for you.” that whole sentence could’ve made leon cum right there without any friction. the way you said his name, it was smooth, like honey. you were hot and you knew it, “y-yes, please.” leon mumbled out pathetically as he stared at his screen intensely.

you nodded and reached down for the bottom of your shirt, slowly pulling it up and discarding your shirt to the corner of your room. once your shirt was removed, leon got an eye full of your tits being held up by the new lingerie, it was a push up bra. your tits were rounded and plush, the black lace that surrounded the fabric was real pretty.

“do you like it?” you asked softly as you adjusted your bra strap, leon gulped and shuddered. “yeah, it’s pretty..it suits you.” leon said, you were so fucking hot. he wanted to jack off and cum right there, but that would just show how much of a pathetic man he is.

you only took off your shirt and leon came? embarrassing.

so, he edged himself. deciding to play it safe with palming himself through his pants. his hand moving slowly to not get too eager and fuck it up.

“you think so?” you mused, looking at the camera as your hands moved to squeeze your tits and push them closer. fondling yourself for his pleasure.

leon groaned and nodded, he knew his camera was off and that you couldn’t see it, but he couldn’t help it. “mhm, black suits you.” he said, shifting in his bed to adjust his position. “want me to take it off?” you asked curiously, looking at the camera with an amused smile. “i think my tits are pretty, it would only be fair for you to see.” you teased as you squeezed your mounds.

leon’s throat felt dry, he felt parched.

“yes,” leon shuddered out, looking down at the screen. you laughed and stood up, you adjusted your camera for it to catch your body as you stood. leon saw you were only wearing some cute little panties that brought out your ass.

turning around, your back faced the camera before you moved your hair out of the way and moved your hands to the clasps of your bra.

you were quick to unclip your bra and take it off, throwing it off to the side, to a place the camera can’t pick up. by where you threw your shirt, leon assumed. your movements were always so smooth, hypnotic almost. leon was convinced you were perfect, made with no flaws.

turning around, you held your tits up in your hands before you stepped closer and let your mounds drop. leon got a screen full of tits, you let out a laugh and moved your body in a slow sway, your tits moving around as you did so. “like ‘em?” you mused playfully before reaching up and squeezing your nipple.

leon’s head leaned back as a small groan left his lips, his hand moving down to grip his dick through his pants. “yes, fuck.” leon said with a pant.

you moved back from the camera and sat down onto your chair before adjusting the camera stand so leon could see you better.

“are you jerking off?” you asked, smirking at the lens, leon let out a small whine. “no, n-not yet.” he mumbled, his voice straining as he tried to sound level headed, but of course it didn’t work given how he stuttered. leon cursed at himself mentally, he sounds like a fucking pussy right now.

you let out a small laugh at his stutters, “what? you don’t wanna jerk off to me? you’re hurting my feelings.” you said softly as she tilted your head, leon’s eyes widened. oh shit, no, that’s not what he wanted to do.

“wait, shit—“ he tried to explain, “i didn’t mean it like that..i just want to savor the moment.” he said, shutting his eyes in embarrassment.

you smiled, “yeah? why not savor it while jerking off? i have my tits out just for you.” you teased, pouting as you did so. leon paused, you were right, your tits were out and you were willing to do anything for him and he was just edging himself?

a small groan left his lips, “yeah..okay.” he mumbled, his hand slipping under the waistband of his pants before he gripped his cock. his large hand wrapped around his shaft, his cock throbbing again due to the pressure, leon put his phone down and used his other hand to shimmy his pants down. once the waistband was wrapped around his knees, leon leaned back against the headboard and sighed as he gripped his dick.

reaching out for his phone, leon fumbled with it with one hand before finding the right position to hold it. unbeknownst to him, while he fumbled with the phone, he had pressed against the camera button.

his camera turned on and he had no idea.

you, on the other hand, were met with the sight of the mystery man that had been supporting you the most.

he was hot.

like really fucking hot, your interest on this man peaked after you saw his pretty face. he was resting his phone on his thigh was he held it up, you could see the stubble on his face, his dark black hair. he was older than you expected, but if anything it added to the appeal.

this man seemed to be seasoned, he was staring down at his phone with his eyebrows furrowed as a small sigh of bliss left his lips. he was jerking his cock, you noticed by the way his body moved, there was an arm that wasn’t getting picked up by the camera that worked on rubbing his cock raw.

you noticed how his icy blue eyes focused on you, staring at the screen of his phone with a lovesick look on his face.

he looked so pathetically hot, it wasn’t something you thought you’d find attractive, but seeing how desperate this older man was for you made you unbelievably horny. you squirmed in your seat before your hand slipped down, you moved and slipped your hand under the fabric of your panties. letting out a sigh, you felt your middle finger gently toy your clit.

“leon?” you mused, leaning your head back and spreading your legs for the camera to pick up how your hand was shoved under your panties. you reached over to your desk and grabbed a dildo, showing it to him. “wanna watch?” you offered, moving the silicone cock in a playful manner.

leon’s eyes widened in surprise, but nodded.

he gulped and you watched as his adam’s apple bopped up with the swallow.

leon watched as you slipped off your panties and grabbed a bottle of lube. you quickly coated your pretty pussy and dildo with the thick cream and leaned back once more.

your pussy was on full display as you pressed the tip of the dildo against your puffy folds. “ready?” you asked softly as you bit your bottom lip.

this whole scene that was unfolding in front of leon felt like it was going to kill him. he’s seen your pussy before, he’s seen you fuck yourself before, but there was something different this time. it was all dedicated to him.

only him.

“yes,” he shuddered as he gripped his cock tightly, you smiled at him and slowly slipped the dildo inside of you. a soft sigh left your lips as your warm pussy sucked in the silicone, leon watched eagerly. like a kid in a candy store, he would kill to be the one inside you.

your squirmed and rolled your hips against the dildo, looking into the camera as your free hand moved to grip your tit. “oh, leon.” you moaned out, smirking as you watched your screen to see his reaction. “you feel so good..” you teased.

leon’s eyes widened when he heard you moan out his name, were you pretending it was him fucking you? did you want to send his heart into cardiac arrest?

this cock throbbed against his hand, begging for attention, pleading for leon to let it cum.

leon’s balls were heavy with cum, it was unbearable to keep teasing, but he couldn’t help it.

a small whine left leon’s lips as he slowly stroked his cock, watching as you fucked yourself with your dildo. “you think so?” leon replied back, his face felt hot as he spoke, he’s never done dirty talk through the phone. he was embarrassed, was he doing it right?

you nodded, smiling hazily at the camera, “mhm..” you trailed off as a small gasp left your lips, the dildo focused on fucking your pussy. your eyes fluttered shut as you savored the filling feeling of your dildo, the silicone ridges and fake veins pressing and molding your walls. your pace was steady, your head leaning to the side as you continued.

leon was getting the perfect view of your pretty face and your stuffed cunt. he could hear the soft squelches coming from your cunt as it sucked the dildo back inside eagerly. he watched as your pussy glistened with slick, his body aching, he wanted to be there with you. he wanted to feel you.

but the world was cruel towards leon, and all he could do is watch and pretend he was the one fucking you.

“you’re so big.” you babbled softly, watching your computer screen, watching his reaction. he shuddered and trembled, moving on his cock slowly.

leon shut his eyes and grunted, his head leaning back desperately as his body ached. he occasionally looked back at the screen, looking at you with such admiration behind his gaze. like he was admiring a beautiful painting.

he was so cute.

“y-yeah,” he groaned, his body feeling hot, it was overwhelming. he felt the thinnest sheet of sweat coat his body, a swirling feeling coming to his lower tummy, it felt like a tight pressure. “—am i making you feel good?” he whispered out, his eyes shutting as his hand continued to jerk his cock.

each jerk felt like a rush of electricity went through his veins, an electric shockwave whose only purpose was to bring pleasure.

you moved your hand down and gently began to toy with your clit, pressing on the puffy bud as you fucked yourself. “no one has ever made me feel like this, leon.” you teased, moaning out his name softly. it was like music to his ears.

he couldn’t take it anymore, he physically couldn’t hold back, he should’ve gotten a cock ring to try and make him last longer.

“m’gonna cum, i’m sorry—“ he babbled, feeling bad for cumming so fast, he just didn’t have the self control he used to have on his prime. his hand began to jerk his cock in a fast, sloppy pace. his chest was rising and falling rather quickly, unable to catch his breath as he chased his orgasm.

leon moved his phone, he kept it by his lap, but by the position you could see his aching cock.

“it’s okay, baby.” you mumbled out, watching as he neared his orgasm. his dick was pretty, the size was okay, the thickness was there, and his tip was bright red. his hand gripped his shaft, he had pretty hands. large and masculine, you even saw an expensive watch wrapped around his wrist. you knew he had money, how else would he be sending you such high donations, but something in your stomach fluttered when you noticed.

you continued to fuck your dildo into your pussy, trying to match his sloppy pace. “cum for me.” you hummed, your tone playful and laced with lust.

this was so hot.

leon shuddered and moaned, his hand continued to rub his cock raw, he clenched his jaw and shut his eyes tightly as he focused on cumming.

the pressure in his lower belly was so tight, but after a couple of more harsh jerks, the tight knot inside his stomach burst. his balls strained and tightened as cum began to spurt out of his tip. it was thick and milky, staining leon’s stomach and hand.

while he came, leon’s body trembled, his toes curled, and his back arched slightly as a loud moan left his lips. he didn’t mean to moan out like that, but with the circumstances he couldn’t help it. this was pure bliss, his body felt lighter and his head felt fuzzy. he continued to slowly stroke his cock as it throbbed, he rode out his orgasm, his cum still spewing out of his cock for a few more seconds before his body relaxed.

leon shuddered as his cock began to go soft in his hand, he grimaced as he looked at the cum that stained his hand before wiping it off against his sweats.

panting, leon looked back at his phone, his face was red and his whole body was hot.

“shit, i’m sorry, i wanted to wait for you.” leon said breathlessly, you shut your eyes and continued to toy with your clit as you shook your head. “don’t apologize, it was really hot.” you moaned out, fluttering your eyes open as you looked at the monitor, eyeing him up as he laid back panting.

your clit was puffy and slick, aching for more.

rolling your hips up, your hands continue to work against your cunt, making your legs twitch and tremble. putting on a show for the lonely man in front of you.

biting the inside of his cheek, leon watched desperately, if he was younger he probably would’ve gotten hard again as he watched, but his cock didn’t have enough strength to stand. it didn’t matter, now leon could finally appreciate you, your pretty face, your pretty body, and your pretty pussy.

he loved the faces you made, they were so genuine.

if he was fucking you, would you be making those faces too? god he hoped so.

by now, a specific heat blossomed by your clit as your finger toyed with it. your touch was gentle and light, it felt like your clit was burning in the hottest way as the nerves went on overdrive.

“fuck, fuck, fuck—“ you whined, your voice strained as you focused on breaking the tight knot inside your lower tummy.

leon shuddered, seeing the way your eyebrows furrowed as you bit your bottom lip, you were so cute. leon wanted to say something, but it was like his brain was a blank slate. he couldn’t think, he couldn’t speak, he just watched as your glistening pussy throb.

it didn’t take long for the knot to snap, and once it did, your body jolted as a loud whine of his name left your lips. your thighs clamped together while your hand stayed pressed between your legs, the silicone cock was nestled nicely inside you, warm and sticky.

your body trembled as you panted, your head leaning back against the seat as you regained your thoughts.

god.

leon has seen you cum various times before, sure, but there’s something so different about it here. it was mind boggling and his head felt dizzy, a shiver going down his spine.

this was all a private show, all of this was only for him. no one else was as lucky as he was, he felt like he was getting spoiled.

watching you unravel and cry out his name had leon’s brain oozing, he felt demented, like his brain had melted and he was left as a zombie. he could tilt his head over right now and watch as his melted brain would come spilling out.

metaphorically, of course.

you reveled in the afterglow of your climax, your pussy felt like it was pulsating and throbbing. slowly, your hazy gaze focused back on the screen and you locked eyes with leon.

he let out a breath as he looked at you, it felt like you were really looking into his eyes.

he still had no idea his camera was on and you could see how enamored he looked.

slowly, with a long, soft squelch, you pulled the dildo out of your sticky pussy. you moved the silicone up to your lips and leaned in closer to the camera before you licked off the slick that coated the toy.

your tongue moved slowly, and occasionally you would glance at the camera, making eye contact with him as you cleaned up your dildo and the only thing that ran through leon’s head as he watched was: i wish that was me.

squirming, leon felt like his mouth was salivating at the sight.

eventually, you finished licking off your dildo before you placed a gentle kiss on its head before you put it away, hidden away from what the camera could pick up. “liked that?” you mused, tilting your head to the side with a cute little smile. it was almost funny how cute you looked after you fucked yourself in front of him.

“yeah.” leon said quickly, gulping back saliva as he looked at you so dearly, “um,” he began, clearing his throat awkwardly, “..is it okay to talk more? if you have the time.” leon mumbled, because deep down, he still wanted to talk to you — to carry a conversation with you, to try and charm you.

looking at the time displayed on your monitor, you hummed, drawing it out to tease him slightly. after a few seconds that felt like an eternity for leon, you looked back at the camera and nodded. “of course, i have time.” you said, winking at the camera before you stood up and slipped your panties on. you left the chair for a second before you picked up your band shirt off the floor and slipped it on.

plopping back down on the chair, you smiled and looked back at the camera.

“so, tell me more about you, leon.”

≻ the call ended not too long ago, leon rested his phone down on his bed as he let out a sigh and rubbed his forehead. his chest felt fuzzy and he felt giddy.

the two of you had spoke for a few hours and now that the call ended, leon yearned to hear your voice again.

he felt silly like this, but he couldn’t help it.

he missed your voice, your face, the way you moved your hands when you spoke, the small gestures you made when you talked about something you were passionate about.

he missed you.

reaching over for his flask, leon quickly popped it open and took another long swig. swallowing back his beloved whiskey like he was a dehydrated man drinking water, throughout the call, he hadn’t drank to try and not get drunk and ruin the moment. but now that the call ended and he had time, leon was happily swallowing back the whiskey.

hearing his phone buzz against his bed sheets, he reached out for it quickly, a swirl of excitement coming to him as he saw it was you that texted.

it was two attachments, a photo of your perky tits and another one of your computer screen — that’s where he saw it. he was on the screen.

the photo you had taken was when he had his phone down, getting a good angle of his side profile from the bottom. for the eyes of someone else, it was a good picture and he looked good. his hair was messy in just the right way, his adam’s apple was on display and given the fact his phone was down, the picture also captured his waist, chest, and shoulders. showing off his body underneath the shirt he wore.

it was a good photo, but leon’s heart dropped to the floor when he saw it.

had his camera been on the whole time? is that why there was a small red dot next to his selfie camera? clicking out of the photos, he read your text nervously, but after reading it, his face flushed.

taking back another swing of his flask, he shuddered.

‘you looked really good today ;)) wanna call again tomorrow? <3’

╰ TAGS: @gor3-hound @rigorwhoring @nilpill @ottermarbles @argreion @angelstargel @lysa1201-saucy @dilfsmaid @sweets3rial @doja-rat16 @bababsthings @frillyyyy @nyxxoxo @admirxation @gcldtom @ashrillvenheim @seraphicsuicides @altissia-09 @ghostier0t @biohazard-4ever @leonsgirl-111 @th3lma @squazmine @dakotali @neverg0nnagivey0uup @brblnc @emodanoriddler @v1ccc @dear-satan @skydisneylover @calansic @acidaciruela @vkurtmien @shiawaseorii @fxnfandxmmp4 @valentin78pon @antagonize-me-motherfucker

[gallusrostromegalus]

Hi! I enjoy your stories very much. As a shy person myself wanting to push myself out of a shell I am curious if you've always been naturally good at meeting people, or do you get social anxiety too? Sorry if this is a super random/personal question. I appreciate you!

I used to get REALLY bad social anxiety but then I accidentally threw myself off the deep end on the first night of college when I heard people assembling furniture out in the hall and thought "If I do not get up right this second and go hang out with those people I'm going to lie here crying about how much I miss my family all night and they wouldn't want that."

So I went out in the hall and said "Hi! I'm [Gallus], and I thought I should meet people instead of being a miserable wreck in my room!"

And then we spent the rest of the night assembling dorm furniture, talking about weeb shit and generally having a good time! and every single time I've gone and introduced myself to someone since then, I've either made MORE friends and had a good time, or had, at worst, a perfectly neutral time. So that positive re-enforcement really helped.

Anyway, the three Guidlines to Meeting People:

Meet people at places they expect to meet people. People do not want to make friends when they are busy with something else- see how much we hate it when people come to the door when we were working or cleaning. But when they're at somewhere they expect to socialize like a Hobby Meeting, a convention, The Club? they're THRILLED to make friends and tbh probably glad you broke the ice. Go to places where people who share interests with you are meeting. They'll probably adopt you.

2. The Worst Thing that will happen is that you will lightly confuse someone. No for real. Nobody is going to scream at you and you're not going to terrorize someone by saying hi. It's fine.

3. Sample conversation script for those of us who have brains that make us act like we're in a movie:

*Be At Place to Meet People* *See someone who looks interesting to talk to, who is not actively doing a physical task or already having a conversation* You: Hello! I love your (Physical aspect of their appearance they chose: Hair color, lobster-themed dress/Dog/Orbital mechanics tattoo)!" Them: Oh, thanks! It (single sentence of explanation: I did it myself/It has pockets/He loves people/I got it for completing my thesis!) (this is a sign that they are open to social activity) You: That's so cool! I'm (you name), and I'm new here. You seem like cool people, can I hang out with you? Them, and I actually for real swear this will be the answer 90% of the time: Sure!

Congratulations! You have introduced yourself to someone. Continue to be a huge dweeb about the thing you have a mutual interest in and you will shortly have a new friend!

[kakashisbabymama218]

i don’t know if I’d rather have mean katsuki who looks down at you with disgust as you pull off of his cock gasping for air, choking and sputtering, muttering out a ‘useless, can’t even suck dick right’ with a click of his tongue.

the words bring tears to your eyes but this time for a different reason. he’s nice enough to give you a couple of seconds to get your breathing back to normal and for the coughing to stop before he’s guiding your head right back to his cock, watching as your lips stretch to accommodate his girth.

he barely gives you a second to adjust before he’s pushing in deep, deeper than he was before. you try to breathe through your nose, taking in short puffs of air. you don’t last long before you’re sputtering and coughing, pulling off once again, a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

katsuki makes an irritated sound in the back of his throat and your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, it’s not your fault he’s so big! so long and thick that the thought of ever taking him fully down your throat was starting to seem impossible.

“maybe I should just go find somebody else to suck me off, maybe someone who can actually suck dick” he snaps.

ouch he’s really not holding back tonight is he? You’re tired of this, your jaw hurts and your pussy is throbbing and empty, slick dripping down your thighs.

I wish he would just hurry up and fuck me already!

katsuki lets out a laugh before he’s gripping your hair tightly in your hair, bending down until his face is directly in front of yours.

fuck, didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“you wish I would just hurry up and fuck you already, huh?” one hand wraps around your throat, the other making its way between your legs. His fingers trail over your clit, causing your hips to buck, desperate for release, before circling your entrance. “but if you can’t even take me down your throat, how could you ever expect to take me in this tight ass pussy?”

or sweet katsuki who presses gently kisses to your neck as he splits you open on his cock.

“you take me so well pretty girl” he murmurs against your neck, lips trailing up to kiss the shell of your ear. pulling out until slowly, one inch at a time until nothing but the fat head of his cock remains inside of you, before pushing right back in just a slowly. your head is thrown back in pleasure, moaning out as he grinds up into you.

“fuck baby” he sighs, you feel the words fall from his lips as he mumbles them against your skin. “so wet, so tight— so perfect”

katsuki lifts his head, his red eyes watching you, taking in every expression that crosses your face. from the way your eyes squeeze together tightly when he angles his hips up and hits that soft spot inside of you, to the way your lips part in a whimper when he brings his thumb down to rub circles your puffy clit, oversensitive from being ignored all night.

“please” you whine out.

Katsuki’s head cocks to the side “please what, baby?”

you’re not even sure what it is your asking for, maybe for him to stop or even speed up.

its too much; the way he throws his head back in pleasure, moaning loudly when you clench down tightly around him, his hips sputtering for just a moment before he regains his composure and fucks into you even deeper, pace picking up just a little before he slows right back down.

the warmth of his breath against your ear as he whispers filthy words that are a complete contrast to the way he fucks you so sweet and gentle as if you'd break if he went too hard.

the absolute fullness you feel as katsuki fills up every inch of your pussy, allowing you to feel each and every vein that drags along your walls.

“I love you” he tells you with a particularly deep thrusts, pulling a gasp from your lips.  

“I love you.” Paired with a kiss to your left cheek.

“I love you.” A kiss to your right cheek.

“I love you” he connects his lips to yours, one hand coming up to hold your cheek as he kisses you slowly, letting his tongue slip into your mouth as he swallows down your cries of pleasure.

or maybe I wanna mixture of both…

“listen to you” he coos, the hand not pumping in and out of you quickly coming up to rest against your throat. he’s still wearing all of his clothes not having enough time to take them off before you were tugging at his pants and dragging him towards the bedroom, pushing him down on the bed and lowering yourself down onto his awaiting mouth.

!ow he has you laid on your back, three fingers stuffed into your cunt as his thumb occasionally rubs at your clit before pulling away, leaving you panting and whining out at the lost of simulation.

he leans down, lips ghosting over yours. “already came twice but still begging for more.”

his hand tightens around your neck, fingers squeezing and cutting off your air supply for a few seconds before loosening his grip.

“greedy little thing” he mumbles before connecting his mouth to yours. The kiss is wet and messy and you can taste yourself on his tongue. you’re so lost in pleasure, the feeling of his mouth on yours that everything else seems to disappear.

katsuki curls his fingers and you cry out when he hits your gspot with each flick of his wrist. the familiar tightening in your tummy is what brings you back down to earth.

“gonna cu—“ you attempt to warn him only for it to be cut off with a long whine, your now empty hole clenching around nothing, instantly missing the feeling of being stuffed.

“why’d you stop?” you ask, glaring up at him.

“cause I wanna feel you cum around my cock”

“ooh fuckkk” you say in unison as katsuki sinks into your pussy. your hands find his back, nails scratching at his skin as he begins plowing into you, thrusting into you so fast you barely have time to breathe before the air is being knocked out of your lungs.

katsuki doesn’t slow down, instead he pulls you up against his chest and begins fucking into you. This new angle allowing him to reach even deeper.

[anantaru]

— does he like it when you're being clingy?

including wriothesley, neuvillette, kaveh, scaramouche x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff & crack, lots of physical touch, established relationship, kissies, love sick genshin men

— wriothesley

as much as wriothesley shows off his strong demeanor for the outside world to see, he cannot lie to himself when it comes to you— because the duke likes seeing you be clingy with him and search for his vehemence.

to him, there was nothing better than having your arms all padded up around him while you kiss his little worries away— so for all he cares, let the outside world call him bewitched if they must, or caught in an angelic spell for that matter. to wriothesley it didn't sound bad nor did he really give a damn about what a so called nobody would say about his life, alongside the fact that he found it quite amusing whenever they did talk about him.

the duke was exceptionally gentle with you, but sometimes he just wants to be able to see you love him in a whole differing modus other than you simply uttering out the three delicate words— in fact, wriothesley too, cares about you so much that he's trying to keep you around all the time, having you enveloped in his arms like he always daydreams of whenever you were apart from each other— hoping that you'd visit him so he could listen to whatever story you might tell him about.

now, was this a new feeling? well, yes. simply put, it was one he had never experienced before. the man had always been faithful, protective and nurturing in his life, so when love solidified the senses of his body, wriothesley was able to finally share his love with somebody.

what you did not know was that wriothesley was slightly frightened in the early stages of your relationship, to someone like the duke it wasn't particularly a breezy walk in the park to open up to another individual and realize that for the first time in his life, he was able to trust someone undoubtedly without fearing a possible mistreat.

now, he admits his love to you when he felt ready to do so, and when he does spell out the three words that bonded a relationship anew, your lips curl deeper into a passionate smile as he kisses the sides of your mouth.

your company alone was an important determination factor of his mood, and although he doesn't want to trouble you with his work, nor was he really allowed to share important and confidential details, wriothesley was certain that you would always be there to listen to him no matter what crossed his mind.

interesting how his heart has not once melted in his entire life prior to finding his soulmate. that's why in his eyes, there is no truer language than the language of love.

a cruel world that has been so cold go him surely wouldn't give him such wonderful gift?

alas, it did— wriothesley could feel it in his bones whenever you held him close to your chest late at night, his ear shell quietly pressed right above your heart. the silent vibrations place a pure tepidness of passion on his soul when he finds himself gradually softening to it, on all occasions smiling as he falls asleep in your arms.

— neuvillette

in the early stages of your relationship, when you had first placed your lips on neuvillette's, the three letter announcement evaporates from his tongue as fluid as when sunlight enters the raindrops and emerges as rainbows from afar.

and yes, much to his surprise he didn't die because of it, who would've saw that coming? although the iudex wholeheartedly believed that he would suffer from a cardiac arrest due to the vast bursts of anxiety gradually chugging away his confidence.

"can i sit on your lap?" you smile gently, unsure whether his silence is that of enthusiasm or distaste.

neuvillette can hardly register it at first before he presses out a pathetic little yes when his excitement reaches the roof of his head and violently breaks through it, showing you those open and loving eyes that were the golden entry to his soul.

you hear a deep, breathless pant when you sit on him, witnessing how a hefty amount of redness catches up to his face until battering his ears, ultimately coaxing out a shiver from his spine.

don't misunderstand his unusual reactions— but neuvillette couldn't quite fathom that you belonged to him and sought out his body like that, it's always special when you nonchalantly rounded your hands on his face and replenished his energy anew, as if his frame was reborn in its most perfect form solely when he felt your trace.

and so, he cannot get enough of your warmth— no wonder when you remind yourself of the pure emotions that he harbored deeply for you.

instinctively, you rest your body against his chest, a soft glow rounding up your facial features, "ah, can't wait until you're done with this," you huff and point at his office desk being crowded by a bunch of papers as you press a small peck against the tip of his nose, ruffling his hair a little.

"it is rather late, you mustn't stay here," he insists, a barely distinctive curve of his lips turning all the difference in the choice of his tone.

"oh? does that mean you want to get rid of me?" how terribly skilled you were when you soaked your words in viscous sarcasm— so skillful in fact that neuvillette would always fall for it head first, or that's what you thought.

he raises a brow before curving one arm around your waist, leaning you against his chest so you wouldn't be able to move an inch, even if you tried.

"now," he playfully scolds, "you, my love, couldn't be farer from the truth."

"and here i thought you must know me by now?"

"i'm joking with you!" you panic, battering his cheek with little kisses as if he didn't know— but neuvillette sees how happy you were whenever you believed you fooled him.

he cocks an eyebrow at you, his mannerism in a questioning stance.

"apologies, aren't jokes supposed to be humorous?"

you scoff, "hmpf, now you're just mean!"

— kaveh

from an outer perspective, one couldn't possibly figure out who was clingier towards the other person— and even with someone being a close friends of the both of you, it's beyond the bounds of possibility to crown a winner.

you or kaveh? who yearned for the attention of the other more? to answer such difficult question, you should first know of the moniker a certain scribe has given you, in fact, within your friend-group kaveh and you had instantly claimed the title of most insufferable couple.

you might wonder, was that a bad thing? oh well, not at all!

and kaveh doesn't even attempt to conceal the priceless smirk on his face whenever he heard his roommate address the both of you as that— it turned him deeply fulfilled that everyone was able to see how crazy he was about you.

your heart feels full by his comforting arms that each throb rattles across your limbs and muscles, feeling weightless at the welcoming cradle— your love being whole, one touch and a gentle kiss on the lips and you feel on a bed of roses, tucked up in velvet.

"what is it?" kaveh leans at you, raising a brow at the way you peak behind his shoulder. during closer inspection, you catch up on a sneaky little smirk that frames his lips the more you focused on what's behind him, "c'mon baby, tell me," kaveh kisses your cheek.

"i think they're calling us insufferable again." you point behind his shoulder, specifically at a table with three people— one wholly focused on the cards in his hands and remaining unbothered while the others sneakily glanced over to you every now and then, whispering incoherent mumbles into each others ears with their palms covering their lips.

and your words don't achieve anything besides making him all the more amused when he wraps his arms around your waist, it's evident, very much so but kaveh was fond of the situation— perhaps he even prided himself on it, he has the audacity to act surprised though.

he laughs, nudging the tip of his nose against your jaw, "they're probably just talking about a way to beat cyno in tcg."

he continues, "we should leave early," and states firmly, "but i think alhaitham took my keys again."

"how does this always happen?" you note tiresomely before dropping your head onto his shoulder— a little too dramatically so that the scribe picked up on it immediately, revealing a triumphant smirk.

perhaps that is why they say love is such magic, this gift from the universe that was unable to be compared, this sweet addiction that no matter what situation you were in, big or small, if it's the two of you facing it together, it was nothing.

— scaramouche

even if scaramouche doesn't straight out admit it to you, he likes it whenever you were clingy with him— and after a good while of you two being in a relationship, he will more and more show his genuine love of it until he’s practically playing with the thought of begging for more.

in the beginning it starts by how fast his cheeks flame red and his focus dwindling as you hug him. after that particular encounter scaramouche memorizes what you did and decides that this must be a proper way to greet you as well— maybe even give you a little kiss on the cheek if he's feeling like it.

scratch that, what he lacks was the courage to go that far.

but no matter how often you would greet him this way, the action alone send him spiraling, shyly snuggling closer to you, inch by inch, although not risking it to hold eye contact and instead averting his gaze as he attempts to indulge in it nervously— stiff as concrete with both arms frozen on each side of his body when you wrapped your limbs around him.

he leans into your touch and closes his eyes— how warm, it's as if the sun itself would shine down on him and prickle on his skin, you feel so whole, like a home.

your touch, it's difficult to explain besides the fact that it carries such passion, and before scaramouche could register it— what was once scarred long ago expresses gentleness all of a sudden. 

although not everything from his past could be forgotten, yet your presence made it bearable.

what was also a crucial task to scaramouche was his recent curiosity in understanding the concept of love and how he fell for it— while he ultimately came to the conclusion that the only way to understand love is to feel it, attempt to embody it, or embrace it in its complete form. 

next time, you greet him with a blank look on your face as he applies your method on you first, slightly catching you off guard as he welcomes you home almost wordlessly, taking your hand in his cold one when he pulls you into a hug— it is a silent engage and the way he practically dragged you into him made your forehead smack his shoulder.

thankfully scaramouche doesn't have to speak in order for you to understand what he was trying to signalize here.

what's following next would be considered even sillier than him blatantly copying you, but when the two of you walk alongside each other through the hustling streets of sumeru city, you flinch a little at a strong grab on your hand ambushing you, "hey, nope— hold on, stop walking and give me your hand dammit," scaramouche scoffs as he chases after it, when with a quick motion, he traps it finally and tangles his digits around your own.

"there's no fun if i make it easy," you wink, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his jaw, "i like the faces you make when you're mad, you know? your expressions are so cute."

"don't you realize you're wasting time like that?" scaramouche clicks his tongue before squeezing your hand in his grasp, letting out an audible hmph before turning his head towards the street.

"honestly? that's fine by me," you coo softly, smothering him with the attention he craves as more of your fingers dig into the soft flesh of his palm.

"as long as you still love me, of course."

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own