#and not have to pay more than what i already paid for a few features!

[quilleth]

My drawing ideas versus my inability to find good references for them versus how quickly i lose motivation trying to find them: FIGHT

[thoughtssvt]

adventures of sugar daddy nanami kento and his frugal sugar baby [ pt. 2 ]

nanami kento x reader ; fluff & humor ; nsfw joke | [ pt. 1 ]

MDNI — 18+ interactions only

A/N : it's implied that reader is still attending school, whether that be college undergrad or grad is up to you; tldr: reader is over the age of 18

"darling, are you busy right now?" kento's voice dripped from the speaker of your phone like thick honey.

"nope, go ahead," you confirm that you have time to talk as you wipe the sweat off your brow, the summer sun and scalding water making your body temperature rise.

you could practically hear kento's brows furrow, "are you sure? you sound a distance away and I can hear the water running," he said suspiciously.

you cringed, holding your breath as you slowly slid the plate onto the rack only to cringe at the sharp hiss of ceramic skidding against metal.

"I thought you started using the dish washer," kento sighed, the creak of his office chair putting the image of a disappointed kento leaning back in his chair in your head.

"I don't trust it, kento!" you cried dramatically. you would've clutched at your heart if your hands weren't soaking, sparkling glasses weeping on the rack at the mere thought of being thrown in satan's machine.

a staccato sigh and your muffled chuckles filled the kitchen. "anyway," kento continued, "I was wondering if you had the energy for something public." he asked, always considerate of your social battery.

you blotted your hands against the hand towel that hung from the oven door's handle, humming happily as you reached for the nice hand lotion kento had gotten for you, worried about the state of your hands considering the temperature of the water you habitually used. "why? is this some secret exhibition sex club thing that you rich people have?" you teased.

"I want to treat you to an outing since you refuse to do it yourself," kento poked back, speeding passed your joke, already used to your antics.

"oh, not denying it? does it actually exist?" your eyes widened in feigned suspicion, a weak attempt at changing the subject.

"do you know why I started looking for a sugar baby?" kento continued. you sucked in a breath only to be cut off, "nevermind... don't answer that." kento sighed, making you chuckle. "I wanted someone to enjoy spending my money. I lost that kind of excitement a long time ago, so you don't have to hold back. you can ask me for anything that will make you happy, okay?" he explained, sincerity oozing from his voice.

you nodded as you listened, ears perking up towards the end. "anything?" you parroted drawn out and timid.

౨ৎ

kento scrubbed his hands against his scalp, blond locks effectively spiking in every direction. you were both sat next to each other at the dining table, crowding around your laptop-- the one you'd refused to replace, deadset on it lasting you at least another four years despite the volume the fans worked being loud enough to wake kento from his sleep. kento sat defeated, chin digging into his palm as he stared into the abyss while you wore a gleaming smile on your face, excitedly knocking against the table as you waited for your prehistoric machine to load.

once the confirmation screen popped up you wrapped your arm around kento's, pulling him in close. "you were right, kento! spending all this money is fun!" you chimed, wiggling like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

kento stared at you with glassy eyes. "I don't know what to do to make you understand," he croaked. "was this really fun for you?" he softened as he took in your features and how much more energized you seemed after just a few clicks.

when he got home from work you'd dragged him to the table, pulling up the tragic student loan debt page, eagerly asking him if it was really okay to spend this much all at once. he'd paid off your loans and the remaining balance of your current semester. you felt like you were floating, to say the least.

kento was more than happy to pay these debts off, but he'd assumed that if you had any they would've been your first priority, not a scrubdaddy and a dish rack. he deflated once again at the mere memory.

you chuckled fondly at the display, reaching to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. "fine, fine. let's go."

his brows knit tightly as you input the address into his phone, sticking it to the dash before securing your seatbelt. you had him park a bit away from a 7-eleven. he followed you hesitantly, watching as you hummed quietly to yourself, a bounce in our step as the two of you took a short walk down to akihabara station. you stopped with your arms spread in a grandiose gesture, the wall behind you stacked floor to ceiling with gashapon machines.

"i've always wanted to try one of these, but the probability that I would get what I wanted on my first try was always slim." you explained as your eyes scanned the wall for a specific capsule series. you held your palm open asking for coins which kento handed to you with a gentle smile.

he watched you for who knows how long. the capsules kept coming, countless duplicates filling his arms. and it was worth it to see your smile, bright and unashamed, every time you popped a capsule open.

"ah, finally!" you cheered as you turned to kento, a small plastic sandwich in the palm of your hand, the same sandwich he got everyday for lunch.

his heart overflowed, spreading heat across his chest. you'd gone through all that work just to get his sandwich. even given the opportunity to do something for yourself you still thought of others, but you were happy and that was enough for him.

"come, come! I think I saw one that had a desk like the one in your office." you beamed, eyes busy searching for the machine with every intention to set these figures up in the corner of your own desk. somewhere along the way kento left you for a moment just to stop by a store for a bag, dumping all your gachas in it until you got exactly what you were looking for. a smile plastered on his face as you continuously loaded coins into the machine.

he rests a hand on your thigh on the drive home, pinching it just enough to grab your attention. "thank you," he whispers, bringing your hand to his face to kiss at your knuckles. thank you for showing him all the small happiness the world had. he had a lot to learn from you.

part 1 | sugar daddy kento masterlist | jjk men x reader masterlist

divider by @tyuniwa

tag list : @that-goth-bisexual @yannauauau

[hwallazia]

ANT!FRAGILE – 최산

synopsis . in which you pamper your successful boyfriend after his dream night at coachella.

pairing . choi san & fem!reader

genre . smut (mdni!) fluff at the end, comfort, established relationship, idol!au, and a poor attempt of comedy.

taglist . @bro-atz @purplenimsicle | apply to join my taglist ♡

word count . 3,1k

DISCLAIMER! unprotected sex (wrap before tap!), bath sex, slight degradation? (reader’s referred as “dumb girl” once), dirty talk, softdom!san, sub!reader, dacryphilia?, slight overstimulation, hickeys, size difference, bulge kink, cow girl position, petnames (princess, love, darling & more), teasing, squirt, suggestive language (yn tells wooyoung to kill himself, jokingly! they’re two very friendly friends ;)), coachella san (as a warning itself, yes).

NIC’S NOTES this took way too long for no reason at all (⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠￣⁠;⁠) but here it is! my brain rot of coachella san (ofc with teeth rotting fluff at the end bc i’m the one writing it) also, lowercase is intentional! (again, too lazy to write it properly;;)

you should’ve seen it coming after you found out that your boyfriend, san, would be performing at an event as important as coachella. not that you were complaining though.

you knew how much your boyfriend loves attention, how much it turned him on to hear the fans scream for him, and how the cameras adjust their lens to zoom in on his face or his toned muscles from dancing and moving from side to side. there were constant conversations in which san would ask you “should i wear this?”, “if i unbutton a couple of buttons will i get a reaction from atiny?” of course, you’d tell him dismissively that no matter what he does, he’d always get a reaction from everyone, from you especially.

but taking off his shirt in the middle of a concert? really?

you had already seen him without clothes on the upper part of his body, of course, —and also without clothes down there, but let’s omit details—. the thing here’s that you knew how cautious he was with his clothing, always trying to cover what was most important. but this surprised you, and immensely.

it is, in fact, a sight for sore eyes. but a certain level of jealousy invaded your body; you liked to think that you were the only one with the privilege of seeing his well-worked body. but now millions of people and locals would have photos and videos of your shirtless boyfriend on stage. you definitely couldn’t accept it, even though the entire internet already knows exactly what ateez’s choi san looks like underneath the expensive fabric that covers him at concerts.

you were fully aware that this was his job, and that he was paid for it, but did it really have to be him? why not any other member? maybe seonghwa? or mingi! what about him? he also has a pretty active and... desperate fanbase. it was obvious that more than one fan would pay to get, at least, a glimpse of his abs. so, with so many options, why was your boyfriend the exposed person?

but of course you couldn’t show up in his dressing room with a jealous expression clearly decorating your face, you had to act like the sweet and tender girlfriend you were and put jealousy aside for a moment. your boyfriend had just finished performing on a dream stage for any artist, you couldn’t ruin his night because of a little scene.

you weren’t a jealous or toxic lover; you were a conservative one. you liked knowing that you were special to san and you expected exclusivity from him; consequently, he would receive the same treatment. but you should’ve expected it when you started dating choi san. he’s an idol and that's his job: to cause, in any way, the attention of the fans which, consequently, would keep them afloat or flying through the charts.

but, that was an indelible feature of yours. therefore, in some way, you would make it noticeable.

you hit your knuckles a few times, with moderate intensity, against the modern metallic door decorated by a gold star that highlighted your boyfriend’s band name. you watched as the handle turned slightly and opened the door wide, managing to discover wooyoung with a foaming glass of champagne that found its rest in the palm of her hand. behind his figure, you could see mingi sitting on a noticeably comfortable leather couch next to yunho, both of them clinking their glasses together with a clink; yeosang and seonghwa taking a selfie in the mirror and jongho and hongjoong talking animatedly, perhaps about the upcoming scenarios you thought.

“what the hell are you doing here?” wooyoung said, looking at you confusingly. you narrowed your eyes slightly at his quick lack of courtesy.

“good night to you too, wooyoung. you were incredible out there.” you replied sarcastically, hoping he would finally greet you properly.

“oh thank you so much. but seriously, what are you doing here?” he asked once again.

“what do you mean what am i doing here? i came to congratulate y’all for the show because you totally killed it. all the atiny around me went absolutely feral because of you guys.” you praised, and wooyoung grinned nicely. jongho and hongjoong came up behind him, intrusively joining the conversation.

“well thank you very much, yn.” jongho responded and you gave him your purest smile, truly meaning your words.

“but i also came here to congratulate my boyfriend personally?” you interrogated since his figure wasn’t appearing in your visual field.

“that’s why i was asking! damn, you really don’t listen." wooyoung sentenced, his gaze being comparable to that of a mother scolding her daughter. “as soon as the concert was over, he changed and went to the hotel to see you. he thought you’d be there.”

“but i don’t have a ride home, and my phone died” you explained, doe-eyed as you waited for wooyoung, or any of the boys, to take the hint and quickly take you to the hotel to your boyfriend.

“you could just ask for it, you know?” wooyoung tsked, but finally surrendered to your big, brown eyes with a sigh. “give me two seconds to look for the car keys. i’ll take you there.”

and that’s what he did as fast as lighting since he knew they’d only have that night all for themselves before flying back out to korea. the next day would be full of promotion of their songs to the locals and their stage in coachella, so san wouldn’t be able to even spend a bit of his day with you. 

during the ride to the hotel, wooyoung spoke, “hey just don’t tire him out since we have quite the amount of work to do tomorrow.”

“you know, you could say something like ‘have a nice time together’, ‘take care of him’, ‘call me if you need anything-” before you could continue, he interrupted you briskly. 

“oh hell no. the both of you are responsible adults who know how to take care of themselves without someone else’s help so don’t even try to bother me tonight because i’m exhausted as shit.” he confessed, hands adjusting their position on the steering wheel when cornering.

“oh so now you’re saying i’m a burden?” you asked ironically, knowing wooyoung would catch it was only a joke.

“oh you do know how to think!” he smiled looking away from the road for a bit to lock gazes with you. wrinkles decorated the corner of your eyes as you closed them a little.

“go kill yourself.” you huffed.

“shut up, you love me,” his puckering lips sent a flying kiss to you. he stopped his words briefly, “actually you kind of have to, since i’m taking you with your beloved boyfriend.”

“touché” you agreed. 

the ride to the hotel was quick and calm since you were talking and joking animatedly with wooyoung. and when you least expected it, the car stopped moving. consequently, you turned to look out through your window, yellow lights, and gold decorations hurting your eyes with how beaming they looked, even when it was one in the morning.

“here we are.” wooyoung turned to look at you, his sincere eyes transmitting warmth, “remember what i told you-”

“yeah, i got it mom,” you answered, rolling your eyes vexingly. the man gave you an annoying gaze, so you replied, “what? you’re acting as if you were my mother! chill out, for fuck’s sake. as you said, both of us are responsible adults who know how to take care of ourselves.” you used his own words as a weapon to defend yourself against his exaggerated concern.

“whatever. just go,” he unlocked the car’s door so you could get out of the car once you finished your little conversation. “he’s been a pain in the ass lately because he hasn’t had time to see you.”

“imma get going then,” your hand approached the car door handle and finally opened it and got out of the vehicle. “thank you, woo. i owe you one.”

“you owe me way too many to count ’em” wooyoung wheezed. “but yeah, we’ll add it to the list.” he gave you one final smile, which you reciprocated sweetly.

you finally closed the door and watched wooyoung make his way back to where coachella was taking place, he’d probably go to enjoy the rest of the night’s stages with his members. you genuinely wished for him to do well and arrive with the boys safely, but now you had something more important to do: pamper your successful boyfriend after his dream night at coachella.

after you saw wooyoung getting lost on the dark LA highway, you turned around and ran towards the hotel to get into the elevator and quickly dial the floor of your boyfriend’s room.

once there, before your brain could think about it, your legs moved on their own and guided you recklessly toward the door. you hit your knuckles against it a few times, but there was no response.

“sannie? it’s yn. are you there?” you mutter softly against the door frame. another moment of silence came in response.

remembering your boyfriend had given you the key card, you pulled it out of your coat and faced it against the handle. after a soft peep sounded, you opened the door. just to be greeted with a dim-lighted room.

you wandered around the room, looking carefully at the floor so as not to bump your feet against any furniture or step on any item of clothing that, perhaps in a hurry, had been forgotten on the carpeted floor. you kept repeating your boyfriend’s name until the silence stunned you. the dazzling city lights illuminating what the poor little lamp that rested on the nightstand could not illuminate.

suddenly everything went silent. until you heard, in the back of your head, a faded tune. you quickly recognized the melody and started humming the song, the lyrics of the weeknd’s starboy being the only thing you could think about.

once again, you knocked a few times on the door, this time receiving a response from the other side. a dull “who is it?” was heard. “it’s me, love. yn.” you replied.

“oh, babe! come in!” he said happily, you could imagine the adorable smile drawn on his lips.

you turned the handle gently. and lord, didn’t the scenery you were greeted with turned you on.

your boyfriend’s toned body resting on the bathtub, lavender-scented bubbles covering most of it, his nipples being exposed to the fresh bathroom air that would soon turn into a heavier one, and his arms resting on each side of the tub. a serene, yet excited, expression decorating your boyfriend’s gaze.

“hi, beautiful,” he welcomed you. his eyes becoming crescent moons due to the effect of his beaming smile.

“there they are, those beautiful eyes i love so much,” you mumbled, walking right next to him to caress his left cheek soothingly. “how’re you feeling, champ?”

“alive as fuck,” both of you giggled at his response, your loving gaze locking with his for a moment of comfortable silence. suddenly you felt his hand fondling yours.

“mind joining me here?” his sharp eyes turning darker than they already were as they looked at you. fortunately for your boyfriend, you were willing to give him the moon and the stars that night.

you still can’t explain how you ended up on top of san, the water covering up to your navels, while he moved his thumb masterfully over your clit and his fingers repeatedly entered your cunt. his phalanges stretched you deliciously, causing several moans and moans from you.

“is that the spot, sweetheart? you're shaking so much.” his voice was hoarse and deep as the ocean, causing dizziness to affect your common sense.

“y-yes, don’t stop, please- ahh! ngh...” you could barely answer.

“sorry, love.” he announced before stopping his movements, drawing a annoyed, pathetic whine from your swollen lips. before you could insult him, he spoke first. “’wanna feel your tight cunt cumming around me, pretty.” during his brief pause, a pitiful cry from you was heard. “will you let me?”

“yes!” you answered desperately, “y...yes, i’m all yours, sannie. use me.”

san let out deep groan, which resonated inside your ears and made your heart jump out of your ribcage for a second. you rapidly adjusted yourself so you could reach the height of his crotch and massage his veiny, prominent erection, then align it to your entrance.

“go down slowly, don’t want my pretty girl to break.” he expressed, his soft, low voice driving you insane. still, you looked at him with cocked eyebrows.

“break? hah. surely, coachella drove your ego up to the clouds.” your eyes stabbing daggers into his. his hands found a home on your hips, slightly drawing them down to insert his cock inside you. your hand landing on his bare chest stopping his every move.

“nah. it’s just that you’re kind of fragile after all.”

you knew he was messing with you, provoking you. if there was one thing he always reminded you of, it was how strong, determined, and passionate you were, and it was one of the many features that made him fall deeply in love with you.

“let’s see who’s the fragile one here” you went down without warning on his cock, surprisingly touching your cervix all at once. a moan was snatched from both of you. your shaking body began to move carefully up and down him.

“f-fuck, yn- mm,” you heard a strangled moan from your lover, his lower lip was caught in between his teeth.

“f-fragile? that’s y...your- ah! your shit ass cock.” you manage to respond, notoriously provoking him.

“i don’t think it’s a shit ass cock, beautiful- ngh.” he panted, “just look how full you are.” he held your hand delicately despite the momentary brutality and placed it over your belly, a small lump formed there, “full of me, and my shit ass cock.” san breathed, kissing your collarbone, leaving cute lovebites in it. “you cry and beg for it every single night, hun. what does that have to say about you, hm?” a pitiful whine left your lips, demonstrating san that you were truly incapable of formulating coherent words. you were just too fucked out.

“well, lemme tell you,” he continued. “you’re just a dumb girl who needs to be fucked by a big fucking cock, otherwise, you don’t stop whining.” he said profoundly, his voice stimulating all your senses at once as he absolutely ravished you. “isn’t that right, princess?”

“i- ah! sannie, pleeease.” you blubbered, your eyes shedding the most precious tears.

“i asked you a question, darling. and i expect you to answer.” he sentenced sternly, grabbing your jaw and mushing your cheeks together. a pout was, therefore, formed on your lips.

“yes! yesyesyes, you’re right. i just need and think about being fucked by your big fucking cock-” you acknowledged, immersed and lost in the feeling, feeling like he was fucking you just like the first time.

“you’re such a cutie when you whine for me.” he chuckled while you, on the other hand, couldn’t hold back your screams anymore. his eyes stuck to your bouncing breasts, and your parted lips.

“what happened, princess? is it too much?” he cooed at you, looking at you adoringly, his eyes beaming at the sight of you.

“n-no,” you tried with all your might not to stumble over your words, but it was almost impossible since your thoughts were interrupted by the intrusion of your boyfriend's cock into your tight cunt.

“no? let’s see if it is now,”

your bastard boyfriend directed his hand toward your vagina, his ring finger and middle finger deliciously touched your clit. san watched as you exploded inside, his cock was bringing you closer to an abysmal orgasm that you doubted you could withstand, but you were a masochist, and despite all of this, you continued to go up and down on his cock sloppily.

“san! i’m s-so close- fuck!” your frowned eyebrows, reddened cheeks, swollen lips, and arched back made san float, he couldn’t worship you more than he already did at that moment. he was internally so grateful that you were his. only his to kiss, to hug, to fuck, and to adore.

you had had many guys behind you in the past, and they all promised the same thing: ‘i promise you the moon and the stars’, but absolutely none of them reached the level that choi san reached, who promised and delivered to make you see the stars, the moon and– fuck, he made you see the entire milky way every time you were with him.

“go on, babe. let it out for me, i got you,” he hid his face in the crook of your neck when you slowed down bouncing, and then he lifted it up. his lips brushed your neck, a position which he took advantage of to lick and suck on the side of it, adorning it with some nice and new hickeys next to the ones he did some moments ago.

san did everything he could to give you a good orgasm, a strong one, but pleasant. he loved seeing your expression as you had reached the peak of pleasure, a squirt erupted between your bodies, causing strangled moans to come from both mouths. your walls became tighter, squeezing out every drop of cum held in san’s hard cock. you felt how a strip of that viscous, white essence warmed your insides even more. the feeling even being comfortable in some kind of way.

“see? i didn’t break, idiot. hah,” you huffed out a sigh, looking at that beautiful face that you would never get tired of.

“mhm, you’re always so strong and beautiful. aren’t you, my love?” he reacted breathlessly as he stroked your cheek, as if it were the finest diamond.

“always, and only for you,” you wrinkled your nose as you looked at him foolishly in love.

you turned and felt stupid every time you were around this man, but what could you say? you weren’t complaining at all.

that man was capable of loving you in all your facets, in all your states and moments.

you were also grateful that choi san was yours, and solely yours.

“well, big boy,” you started, settling into his chest with him still inside you, keeping you warm, “i’m very proud of you and your achievements, love. you really brought home the trophy.”

“actually, you came here all by yourself.” he flirted, a cocky smile causing a giggle to ring inside your ribcage. “hm. thank you, princess. but the actual trophy is you and will always be you.”

you hid your face with your hands, splashing a little water unintentionally, “don’t start being all mushy, you softie. i’m gonna cry otherwise,”

he laughed, his voice causing your skin to vibrate lightly. “okay okay. wanna finally wash up?”

“can we just... stay like this? just for a bit,” you closed your eyes, enjoying the warmth your boyfriend provided you.

“of course, princess. whatever you want,” he held you in his arms safely, making you sleepy. two minutes of silence filled with tranquility and love passed, until san started talking, “remember you’re always my trophy.” he muttered lowly with his honey-dripping voice.

“babe,”

“hm?”

“shut up.”

| masterlist

[pure-smut]

say red.

featuring: Iwaizumi Hajime x f!reader

contains: academic rivals to lovers, dom!Iwaizumi, rough s*x, degradation, dirty talk, creampie

note: all characters are over 18!

MDNI | 18+ content

word count: 2k

series: 1. say red | 2. say red | 3. say red

masterlist

You’d never paid attention to Iwaizumi Hajime. Just another face in the lecture hall, another voice answering questions, another serious guy with a serious face taking things so seriously.

It’s only when you’re paired together to work on a semester-long project that you pay attention to him for the first time. And wow – he’s fucking annoying.

“We need to meet up more than once every two weeks,” Iwaizumi tells you, frowning at your suggestion. “We won’t get enough done before the deadline.”

“It’ll be fiiiine,” you sigh. “The project barely contributes to our grade. All we need to do is pass.”

Iwaizumi narrows his olive eyes at you, entirely displeased.

“How are you,” he bites out. “… top of the class?”

You give him a sweet smile, throwing up a peace sign.

“Because I’m great, obviously.”

You had somewhat noticed that Iwaizumi’s name was always second below yours whenever test scores were published. It’s clear that’s a sticking point for him because he clenches his teeth so hard, you can see a muscle bouncing in his jaw.

“We’re meeting up twice a week,” Iwaizumi says, standing. When you open your mouth to protest, he gives you a hard look. “That’s final.”

You roll your eyes and shrug.

“Fine, fine.” A grin crawls across your face. “Iwa.”

He shoots you a disgusted look.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What, Iwa? It’s cute.”

Iwaizumi pokes his tongue into his cheek and rolls his eyes skyward.

“Whatever.”

With that, he gathers his bag and stomps out of the lecture hall. Your gaze follows the back of him as he disappears, the smile only slipping off your face when he leaves.

“So annoying,” you mutter to yourself, packing up your own things.

But it’s only until the end the semester. You can grin and bear it that long. Plus, it’s like you said before – the project barely impacts your grades. Iwaizumi might want to force you into way too many boring meetings but you have absolutely no intention of cooperating.

*

Iwaizumi messages you his address and a time to come round to work on the project.

Gotta buy a girl dinner first before you invite her to your bedroom, you message him back. He ignores you.

Like most other students, he lives on campus with a few other roommates. You half-expect to see them when you arrive at Iwaizumi’s but he tells you he’s chosen a day when everyone else is out.

“I need some peace and quiet if I’m dealing with you,” Iwaizumi says.

“Flattered,” you reply.

His room is neat and tidy, a smattering of volleyball trophies on the shelves. You vaguely remember that he’s on the college volleyball team but you didn’t know he’s good enough to have trophies. You smooth your features into something neutral so he doesn’t know you’re impressed.

You both sit at his desk, where Iwaizumi’s already set up notepads, pens and sticky notes.

“You’re prepared,” you remark, eliciting a heavy sigh from Iwaizumi.

“I’m sure it seems that way to someone who doesn’t even bring a pencil to class.”

You swing side to side on his wheely chair as Iwaizumi launches into his plan for the project, talking you through the list of bullet points. You make noncommittal noises, your eyes drifting off.

He has kind of a nice face, you think, your gaze dropping from his short dark hair to his sharp jaw. Iwaizumi’s wearing a t-shirt that stretches across his broad chest, the sleeves tight around his biceps. Damn, he’s pretty built, too.

Iwaizumi continues talking as your mind wanders. You wonder if he’s a good kisser. Hmm, probably too serious for that. Only chaste tongueless kisses and missionary in the dark.

You grin at your own thoughts and Iwaizumi stops talking mid-sentence.

“What are you laughing at?” His brow furrows. “You’re not even fucking listening.”

“Uh, no, not really,” you admit, throwing your hands up in defeat.

“Jesus christ…” Iwaizumi puts his elbows on the desk, digging his palms into his eyes.

He wants to launch himself out of the window. How is it possible that you of all people beat him in class? He freezes when he feels your finger trail over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Iwaizumi looks up.

“You’re so tense,” you say. You’re not lying – Iwaizumi’s muscles are like boulders. You give his bicep a poke and realise there’s almost no give. “Maybe that’s why you’re taking this so seriously.”

“You’re just taking this too lightly,” he says, frowning.

You’re looking at him weirdly, your eyes locked onto his, and the way you’re touching his arm is making his cheeks feel warm. What the fuck is going on?

Iwaizumi’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard and you smile, knowing you’ve got him. You stand up to move over and put yourself in Iwaizumi’s lap instead. His thighs are as hard as the rest of him and it feels like sitting in an actual chair. You wrap your arms around his neck.

“You’re kind of cute, y’know,” you say, cocking your head.

“Kind of,” he echoes, giving you a flat look. “Thanks.”

Iwaizumi’s hand rests on your thigh despite his unimpressed tone. You give him a sweet smile and trail a finger along his jaw, feeling the slight stubble there.

“Maybe you need some stress relief, hm?” you suggest, dragging your finger down to his hard chest.

“And you’re offering?”

“I thought you were supposed to be smart?” You cock an eyebrow. “Obviously, yes.”

Iwaizumi regards you, eyes sharp, and your breath hitches. Your smile nearly falters but you save it in time. It feels like he’s looking through you, into you. It’s a struggle to hold his gaze but you’ve never been one to back down. So you look right back at him.

Iwaizumi’s eyes soften and you see him smile for the first time. No, he smirks.

“Say red,” he tells you. “And I’ll stop.”

“O-okay.” You’re annoyed at yourself for stammering but something’s changed with Iwaizumi and it’s thrown you off.

“Repeat it back to me.”

“If I say red, you’ll stop,” you tell him and he gives a short nod, satisfied.

“Good.”

Iwaizumi stands abruptly, picking you up with him and throwing you on the bed. You yelp at the sudden movement, bouncing softly against the mattress.

“What-?”

You don’t have time to ask what the fuck is happening before Iwaizumi’s on you. He presses his mouth against yours, kissing you roughly. He pushes his body between your legs, forcing them apart to accommodate his thick frame.

One of Iwaizumi’s hands grabs your hip as the other snakes around your throat, holding you with enough force for you to feel it but not so hard you’re gasping. His soft lips are in contrast to the sharp stubble scratching your skin, his tongue sliding over yours.

Okay, I might have been wrong, you think. There’s nothing chaste about this.

Iwaizumi grinds his bulge against your clothed pussy, now exposed to him as he tugs up your dress. The friction through two layers of fabric is teasing, making your hips buck, desperate for more. You moan into his mouth and he squeezes your throat.

“Needy little slut,” he says roughly.

Iwaizumi’s degrading words only serve to turn you on even more. His voice has completely changed, now deep and throaty and utterly commanding. Iwaizumi keeps one hand around your neck as his other reaches down to unbutton his jeans.

“Is this what you want so badly?” he says as he pulls his cock free.

You gasp as it slaps against your mound, sending a spark of pleasure through you. You try to nod but Iwaizumi has your throat in too tight a grip.

“Use your fucking words,” he spits. “Tell me.”

“Y-yes, I want it. Please, I want it.”

Iwaizumi reaches down and you hear a violent rip. You’re not able to look down, your head fixed in place, but there’s a cool breeze across your exposed pussy. Your mouth drops open as you realise he’s ripped your panties clean off.

Iwaizumi smirks at your reaction.

“You act like a slut, you get treated like one.”

The Iwaizumi you knew before, so serious and studious, is long gone. You look up at him, his eyes feral, and realise you’ve severely underestimated who you’re up against. He lines up the fat head of his cock with your dripping hole.

“Look how fucking wet you are already.” Iwaizumi pushes himself inside you and you give a choked moan at the feel of him stretching you. “You don’t even need me to get you started, do you? You’ll spread your legs for fucking anyone.”

Iwaizumi’s flurry of degradation is making your pussy drool for him, only spurring you both on. But a nugget of defiance forms in your chest, even as tears stick to your lashes.

“This what your needy little pussy wants?” he demands, pushing in deeper to bottom out.

His cock feels so fucking good, dragging against the sensitive bundle of nerves inside you to make your whole body feel like it’s on fire, but your determination not to let him take over fully kicks in.

“Y-yes, Iwa,” you breathe out.

Iwaizumi’s jaw clenches.

“I told you not to fucking call me that,” he grits out.

As if to punctuate, he starts to pound at you hard. Every slam pushes you closer to the edge, sending a jolt through your body to the tips of your toes. His large hand around your neck is delicious, pinning you beneath him as he fucks you raw. You sink your nails into his forearm, lustful whimpers falling from your lips.

“S-sorry…” you gasp. “… Iwa.”

Iwaizumi growls, moving faster and setting a brutal pace.

“Fucking brat.”

You don’t have the strength to talk back anymore. Iwaizumi’s cock is pulling you to the edge, making your eyes roll back in your skull as he rips an orgasm from you. Your pussy clenches down like a vice grip around his cock and a moan escapes Iwaizumi’s throat.

“Fuck… fuck…” he groans.

Iwaizumi fights the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, wanting to watch you bounce under him. Your walls are so slick, so hot, so fucking tight. You’re tearing down all his restraint, moaning so sweetly even as his fist is wrapped around your throat. He knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“I’m… gonna cum…” Iwaizumi says, voice hoarse.

“Inside me,” you plead. “Cum inside me, Iwa.”

Your words tip him over the edge.

His grip tightens on your neck, almost making you dizzy, as he thrusts once, burying himself fully. The moan he makes as he comes undone inside you is intoxicating, satisfying in a way you can’t explain. Iwaizumi’s chest heaves as he half-collapses on top of you, his arms shaking as he holds himself up.

Neither of you say anything, breathless and sweat-slicked.

“Well.” You break the silence with a grin. “I dunno about you but I definitely feel better.”

Iwaizumi’s serious face returns as he rolls his eyes, pulling away from you. He tugs a few tissues free from a box on his nightstand, handing them to you first before himself.

“What a gentleman,” you coo, cleaning yourself up.

“It’s polite. I’m not a savage.”

“The way you fuck says different.”

Even though you’ve still got his cum spilling out of you, Iwaizumi’s ears go pink at your comment. He ignores you and buttons his jeans back up. Cute, you think with a smile.

You point at your destroyed underwear.

“And you ruined my panties. That was rude.”

Iwaizumi’s cheeks tint as he blushes harder.

“Yeah, sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll buy you a new pair.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Finished cleaning yourself up, you hop off his bed and straighten your dress. “I’ll just make sure I’m not wearing any next time.”

Iwaizumi stills.

“Next time?”

“Duh.” You put a hand on your hip. “That was great, right? And my head feels totally clear. I think I’m actually ready to listen to your project plan or whatever.”

You take a seat at his desk, hands clasped demurely on your lap and smiling sweetly.

“Twice a week you said?”

[omega-e123]

!! NSFW !! cw: mild somnophilia(?), Cunnilingus, Vaginal sex. Fingering. Breeding kink.

In A Rut…

Prologue || Restraint (p.2)

Indulgence

Depressed. Lonely. Unwanted. Those are the words that you’d describe how you’re feeling. You knew Shadow liked his personal space, but isn’t this a bit much? After being the only one initiating for a month straight, it’s finally taken its toll on you.

Rationally, you’re aware if Shadow didn’t at least tolerate your company, he wouldn’t give you the time of day. Let alone reciprocate affection when given. It still hurt, putting in all the effort suddenly.

It’s been a while since the last time you spent the night at his place. Not from the lack of asking. Shadow shot down every time it was brought up. The way he answered differed. Sometimes it was a flat, “No.” Other times he would go silent, deep into thought before politely declining. There was no tell whether or not Shadow was hesitating to say yes or to say no.

Tonight was the night. You practically begged him. Your hands clasps his, bringing it to your chest. Puppy eyes refuse to break contact even as he slightly turned his head away. “Pretty please Shadow? Pleaaaase? I really miss you. Just one night,” you implored.

Shadow grits his teeth. The glaring annoyance in his features conceal Shadow’s inner turmoil. Curse these damn thoughts. If only you were begging for something else. I’d give it all in a heartbeat.

Damn it— “Tch! Fine. For one night.”

It’s a good thing he already replaced those torn covers…

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

The plan was simple. You take his bed, Shadow takes the couch. With this arrangement, he can keep himself in check while you’re still able to get a peaceful night’s sleep.

What a fool he was hoping that you’d agree.

Even though Shadow insisted he take the couch so you can have his bed all to yourself, you countered with, “Well, if you’re going to sleep on the couch so will I! I didn’t ask to stay for the night for us to end up not sleeping together, idiot.”

At first, you tried to sleep with your head laid on his chest. Leg propped over Shadow’s torso. Normally, you both wouldn’t have a problem falling into a deep slumber like this. A subtle steady heartbeat coercing your body to drift away. Protective arms wrapped around your being. Tonight? You weren’t sure if who you’re nuzzling against was a hedgehog or a wooden log.

Try as he might, Shadow couldn’t relax his muscles. In and out. Focus on breathing. Nothing else.

Don’t pay any mind on how much his body has been aching for your touch. Ignore the hot breath that tickles his chest. Your sickly sweet scent filling up his nose. The way your crotch is pressed up against his hip.

You resign, noticing the rigid, mechanical breathing. Wordlessly peeling yourself off of Shadow to lay on your side, back towards him. Better not make him any more uncomfortable even though you really wanted to cuddle him. Give him space and let him chase.

Almost immediately, some of the tension Shadow was holding dissipates. Finally allowing himself to sink further into the mattress. The air feels like a thousand needles pricking him now that your warmth is gone. A heavy breath leaves him, not noticing he’s been holding it in this whole time.

It would be so much easier if he simply told you what is going on. Why he has been ‘distant’ for the past few weeks. Bringing up the topic feels too awkward, too… humiliating. Your partner is so stubborn when it came to asking for help. Shadow didn’t need to suffer alone at all if only he spoke up. You were more than happy to assist him whenever needed… this Shadow knew well.

Weight of the mattress shifts behind you. Springs crunching and squeaking underneath. You paid no mind as your consciousness stood at the border of dreamland.

As the last strand of thought was about to be plucked away, a paid of arms found purchase around your waist. Like a squeaky toy being squeezed, your eyes shot open and bulged out as you quietly squealed from the sudden movement.

Shadow’s body and yours press up against each other. Legs tangle with one another. A tender kiss is pressed to the back of your neck sending goosebumps down your spine.

Sleep finally drags you into the void.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Moonlight peeks through the cracks of the black out curtains. Watching your every move. Shadows intertwine and dance upon the cool sheets of the bed. Ecstasy clings onto every inch of your skin. Combined sweat glistening due to the spotlight provided by the moon.

“Ngh.. haah.. Shadow—“

Your heart leaps out of your chest. The utterance of your partners name startles you awake. Wetness pools in between your legs from the dream. Underwear sticks uncomfortably to your cunt.

Heavy breathing combined with something hard pressed against your ass signals that you’re not the only one having a wonderful dream or maybe he was the cause? Pressure varies from light to firm in a nice rhythmic pattern.

Shadow’s arms are wrapped around you tight, unaware that you’re awake. His hot breaths that moan your name tickle your ear. One hand begins to wander. The inhibitor ring gets caught by the fabric, here and there, contributing to his clunky movements. Eventually it finds its way to the edge of your shirt. Shadow’s bare hand slides up your abdomen, between the valley of your breasts, before settling on a mound. Gently but firmly gripping it. Even though you call out his name, no response is given. Shadow continues to hump your ass, riling you up more. Hips begin to move in tandem with his, craving more friction. A whimper escapes past your lips, calling out his name once more.

What woke Shadow up was your hand squeezing the top of his. Blinking the sleep away, he became more aware of his actions.

Guilt swallows him up whole. Shadow mutters a rushed apology, “I didn’t— Forgive me.” His ears flick back momentarily in agitation as he begins to free his limbs from you. Although untangled your hand refuses to let go. When he sits up, so do you. Oh no, you’ve let this gone on long enough.

“Forgive you for what?”, you interject, worry laced in your words. Due to the low light in the room, you could only partially see Shadow’s expression. An oh so familiar mask of stone adorns his face.

He doesn’t move an inch. A good sign. It means he’s not immediately avoiding or distancing himself from you. A chance to reel Shadow back... To keep him grounded.

Silence follows your question. Again, you speak up, “What’s on your mind, my love? You’ve been acting odd these days. If there’s anything I can help you with…”

The void of the room stares straight back at Shadow. Thoughts collecting to form a coherent sentence. Finally he speaks, though not of his own volition. Words spill out before he could stop them, “That’s the problem. You can and you would. Taking advantage of you is not something I intend to do… but I might with my current state.”

Brows furrow and a deep frown sets on your muzzle. “What the fuck are you talking about.” May the gods praise you for your patience with this man—. Sucking in a sharp inhale you speak again,“Shadow.. It is not taking advantage for accepting my help. Otherwise I wouldn’t have offered in the first place. It’s not as if I’m physically unable to say no later down the line anyways,” your free hand reaches up to Shadow’s cheek, turning his face towards you, “So if you could please tell me instead of having me guess, I would appreciate it.”

Your hand is so incredibly soft. Shadow couldn’t help but lean into your touch. “It’s— rutting season,” he mutters under his breath.

“What?”

Although he’s facing you, his eyes refuse to meet yours. Shadow’s shyness announces its presence in the form of crimson staining his cheeks, “It’s.. supposedly the time of the year for hedgehogs having the urge to breed.” His tail thumps excessively at the thought of knocking you up. Reaching back, Shadow grabs his tail to hold it still.

The cogs in your brain begin to turn, putting the pieces together. This whole time he was acting touch adverse due to being overstimulated by your presence. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little disappointed that Shadow didn’t tell you sooner.

Taking too long to answer, Shadow takes your silence as judgement. “Hmph, I’m sleeping on the couch,” he announces, shuffling away from you.

“The hell you are! You’re finishing what you started tonight, mister.” Your partner is forcefully yanked back and pinned onto the mattress. Straddling him, you can see his features much easier. Eyes looking up at you widen in shock before narrowing. Shadow’s fangs flash in a mischievous smirk.

“You are aware of what you’re asking, right?”

“Uh, yes?”

Easy as flipping a pancake, you two switch positions. Your hands are in tight grips above your head. Shadow leans close to your ear, chests nearly touching. In a low sultry voice he says, “You sound unsure. Allow me to clarify: I won’t be done with you until you’re passed out or I’m empty, understood?”

It was as if a switch had been flipped inside him. Now that the laundry has been hung up to air, Shadow can finally indulge what he’s been craving for: you.

Scarlet eyes scan your features for any hint of fear, hesitation. Of course Shadow wants you to be comfortable and enjoy yourself while he lets out his urges.

Immediately your heart leaps into your throat. Excitement shooting through your system like electricity. The edges of your mouth twist upwards into a lopsided smile. “Loud and clear, Shad. You have a lot of lost time to make up,” you answer back cheekily. Finding your answer satisfactory, Shadow encapsulates your lips in a kiss. Starting slow, pacing yourselves, enjoying the moment.

Minuscule moans fill the silence here and there as the pace picks up. Wanting more contact, your hands struggle against Shadow’s grip. One hand lets go to snake under your shirt and massage your breast. The other adjusts to keep both of your wrists down.

So much stimulation but none quite what your body aching for. Legs squirm, complaining about the lack of attention on your bottom half. Your hips arch up, drawing out a guttural moan from Shadow. As you two part, a single string of saliva bridges the gap. He hushes you, “Behave and sit pretty. You can do that, right?”

Entranced, you simply nod your head.

“Good. I promise I’ll take care of you,” Shadow whispers, pecking your cheek. A kiss is pressed to your neck, your throat, collarbone. One after the other, he leaves a trail of kisses leading all the way down to your abdomen.

The smell of your cunt already abuses Shadow’s nose. Hunger grows within him. Patience is a virtue; however, nothing will stop this unholy night. A finger hooks to the hem of your underwear. Delicately Shadow pulls them down, stopping inches from revealing your clit. His lips encapsulates the bud, giving it a gentle suck and a flick of his tongue. A quiet gasp is pulled from you. From there he rips off the thin fabric, tossing it off the bed carelessly.

“Hey! That was my favorite pair!” You complained in a huff.

Teeth graze your inner thighs, causing them to quiver with anticipation. Your concern about the small fabric disintegrated by a simple act. A low feint chuckle can be heard if you listened closely. The underside of your knees are propped up over Shadow’s shoulder after he pulls you down closer by the hip bones. A nip near your pussy elicits a squeal of pain mixed with pleasure. Just as you were about to playfully scold Shadow, a drawn out moan fills the bedroom. His tongue dances over your clit. With each suck, your back arches, chasing his lips. Claws dig into your flesh, drawing little beads of blood. A silent command telling you to hold still.

“Shaaaadow~!” You cry out. So many sensations tingling your skin.

He backs off for a moment, blowing onto the folds of your pussy. Instinctively your knees buckle together.

A quiet, “Hnph,” signals Shadow’s satisfaction in teasing you.

It couldn’t be helped. He’s so aggressive, intending to devour you. Tension builds up in your torso but not quite close to snapping. The folds of your pussy spread as Shadow’s tongue slides up the slit and enters. Drinking up every drop of nectar.

Meanwhile, his bottom half has been busy, rubbing itself against the mattress in a steady rhythm. Every time Shadow got close, he would cease his movements for a second before continuing. All of his cum was going to go inside you.

Time is at a standstill, staring at the bedroom wall. You concentrate on the assault his mouth is currently conducting. Hands cling onto the sheets for dear life as you try to obey Shadow.

“Ah— ah.. please..” you manage out, nearly breathless. He pauses. Darkened eyes look up, waiting for you to continue with your train of thought. The loss of contact allows cold air to hit your cunt.

“Please, what?” Shadow asks politely as if he wasn’t just nose deep in you, “What is it that you need?”

“I need more.. more friction”

Now towering over you, your legs are nearly pressed to your chest. His hands propped on either side of your head, supporting his weight. Shadow’s cock effortlessly sliding between your labia “Mmnh. You’re going to have to elaborate more than that.”

This fucker. Teasing your entrance. One fell swoop and it’ll go right in. Your pussy clenches nothing at the thought, bringing attention of just how empty you are. “Need more.. more friction, please. I need you inside. Please, Shadow.”

“Your wish is my command, darling.”

You should have known better to think he was going to start fucking you. No surprise that Shadow travels back down, sliding a single digit in. You can feel his smug grin against your sex when you hissed out of disappointment. Another finger is added in, curling against your walls. Shadow’s free hand splays atop your belly.

Oh, how your pussy glistened with your arousal. Sweet nectar drip onto the mattress, creating a lovely pool. It might stain after tonight. Your needy cunt clenches around his fingers. That familiar tension rises back up as Shadow sucks and French kisses your clit. So red, puffy, and sore. He’s absolutely proud of his work.

Before you knew it, praises began to tumble out. Your hand reaches down to grab Shadow’s hand, holding it tight. Legs quiver as his hand picks up the pace. A third finger slides in easily. Stars enter the edge of your vision. The familiar bedroom ceiling now turning into a night sky.

“Love, you’re going to crush my hand,” he laughs. His ministrations continue while he rises up to lay next to you. Both of his legs capturing one of your thighs. “Keep them open for me.”

Arms reach underneath, pulling Shadow into a hug. You beg and plead him, “I’m close— I’m so close. Shadow I’m going to cum. Fuck, let me cum please.” When your nails dig into his back, a pleasureful growl bubbles up from his throat. In efforts to silence it, Shadow’s lips crash into yours. The taste of your slick swirling around.

Your hips erratically buck into his fingers, chasing that high. Like a mirror shattering into a million pieces, you had come undone. Screams of ecstasy reaches the heavens even with your teeth buried into Shadow’s neck. Wet slapping follows suit as he guides you through your climax. “Music to my ears. Ah, you’ve done such a good job,” Shadow whispers into your ear, slowing down his movements but not quite stopping. Tears nearly form from the overstimulation. To let him know, you whimper, “Too much”, into his chest, nuzzling in.

When Shadow pulls out, a pathetic mewl escapes past your lips. Already, you miss the warm feeling in your pussy. He brings up his sodden fingers and licks it clean before lifting your chin up to give you another taste. During this little break Shadow’s giving you, a warm palm caresses your cheek, lightly stroking it.

“You better not be tired, yet. I’m not done with you”

Caged below his body, his cock, seeping with precum rests on the low part of your belly. Even though your body is still recovering, it can’t help but shake in anticipation.

A sticky trail leads down to your entrance. The tip just barely prodding the entrance. Your hips instinctively want squirm, allowing it in. Looks like Shadow noticed as well, because he backed away just out of reach. He wants you bad; however, watching your cute little face twist out of frustration was simply too entertaining.

Here you thought that Shadow would be the impatient one, waiting so long to fuck your brains out. How the hell has he been able to keep it together now that finally got what he needed? Well, Shadow’s mind has been teetering on the edge. Holding it together long enough so you’re also enjoying it too. Not only mindless fucking to reach his objective. You’re not merely a means to an end.

“There’s only two things you need to remember, okay? My name, and that you’re mine.” To emphasize the last two words, Shadow slams his cock in one fell swoop.

Once again his claws sink into the sheets and mattress below, unable to contain his fervor. Because your cunt didn’t have enough time to adjust and accommodate Shadow’s length, it squeezes him tight. The sensation was not unwelcome. Pain and pleasure dancing in a delicate tango.

A long breathy moan is accompanied by his own animalistic growl. He does his best in earnest to stay still, savoring the way your pussy stretched and clenched around his cock. “Fuck you’re so good to me,” he moans, “You don’t know how much I wanted you— needed you.”

Shadow’s hips slowly pull back just to thrust deep into you again. The sudden motion causes you to grip tightly onto forearms. Your head tosses back with a gasp.

It felt like you were made for him. Made for each other. He starts to pump into you. Ass bouncing from the force. Shadow’s gaze never leaves your face. Every little expression you make, he commits to memory. The way you have to keep prying your eyes off of his to keep from being hypnotized, entranced. When you bite the inside of your lip or open your mouth for a silent cry of pleasure. Your eyes squeezing shut and brows knitting together, as you violently turn your head from hitting that right spot.

Not enough. Not enough. Not enough!

Your ear is captured between his lips, nibbling and sucking on it. The sensation tickles. You giggle, finally letting out that breath you’ve been unconsciously holding. Shadow whispers into your ear, “Good.. make sure you’re breathing. I’m going to pull you in closer, okay?”

Your hands are removed from him as he sits up for a moment to adjust. In order to gain better access, you are folded up into a proper mating press. Legs hooked onto the crook of Shadow’s arms. Knees on either side of your head.

The new angle allows him to hit you deeper and with the way your hips are positioned will perfectly hold his cum in. Mercilessly, Shadow pounds into your little hole. Despite his best efforts to redirect his fangs, they continue to land on multiple spots along your collarbone and neck. Bruises and bite marks for everyone to see who you belong to.

With each thrust, his dick kisses your cervix.

It’s a good thing you didn’t live in an apartment, but you were sure the neighbors across the street could hear your screams of euphoria.

You looked so lovely. Heavenly, even. Shadow wonders how he was able to snag an angel like you. Those three little words, Shadow doesn’t say them often enough as he thinks he should. You understand. His actions speak volumes much louder.

At the pace Shadow is going at, he’s not going to last very long. Judging by the way your face is scrunched up and the tension in your nether regions, you’re in the same boat.

“Relax. Cum for me, my love.”

That’s all it took for you to unravel once again. Shadow is pulled in for a tight embrace as you call out his name, telling him how much you love him. Your sweet words melt his heart.

Trembling, quaking, your orgasm rips through your body while Shadow continues to snap his hips, his own climax following close behind. If you weren’t so cock drunk, you’d have heard “I love you” tumble from your partner. Words that come out of your mouth are no longer coherent but rather a giant babbling mess. Your cunt milks every single drop his cock has to offer. His movements slow down.

Shadow’s body isn’t satisfied. Even if he wanted to, his hips won’t stop. Not until he drowns your cervix in hot sticky cum. Filled to the brim until it starts leaking out even with his dick plunged deep in.

“You’re mine. All mine.”

Round one of many.

[sparkrls]

delayed proposal

MASTERLIST

Summary: in which Harry’s got a few secrets up his sleeve and Y/N just wants to know if he’s going to propose

Author’s Note: this is the blurb i was talking about with bandmates!harry x y/n. remember to like and reblog because i crave validation. love ya <3

Word Count: 1.1k

•••

“Are you going to propose soon?” Was the last question Harry expected to be uttered out of Y/N’s bright pink lips.

It was just another Sunday night, the couple trying to enjoy those last fleeting moments of weekend relaxation before Monday arrived with the usual burden and obligations of being working adults.

In little less than 12 hours, Y/N would be back to her 9-5 job being an assistant to a high-class executive of a finance company. Her boss had too much authority for being so irresponsible and more money than anyone would need in a lifetime. What a luxury it must be to have your dad pass down a company you didn’t know how to run down to you.

Her boss wasn’t a horrible person, he was quite respectful and kind when asking her to do tasks, he was just a very exploitative executive. He had learned from his father to be unbending and demanding.

Y/N’s work paid a good wage, enough for her to pay her bills and still have a bit left. She wasn’t one to buy luxuries, though, preferring to save money up so she could one day quit her 9-5. And then dedicate herself to the things she did every day after work: picked up her red electric guitar, adorned a black skirt that bordered on too short, and perform for (currently small) crowds of people who cheered her band on as they played.

There wasn’t anything Y/N loved quite as much as the rush of being on stage, the bass making the stage shake with each loud thrum, sticks clashing with plates of a drum and the velvet voice of an angel, Harry singing through the microphone and his eyes on her and her fingers moving over the fret of the guitar.

They played small clubs and rundown bars, getting payed a poor wage for the extrenous effort used to get four adults with full time jobs to align their schedules in order to rehearse. Sometimes all they got were free drinks, but they took what they could get and did it for the love of it.

That was how they got here, on Harry’s couch, his arm draped around her shoulders, and her head on his chest. They were watching Bluey, the way they did most nights they spent together. He would always roll his eyes when Y/N suggested it, pretending to hate it, but she knew it was his favorite show, and he always cried at the emotional episodes.

Their instruments lay forgotten on the table, his blue guitar next to her red one, as they’d spent most of the afternoon drinking beer and writing a new song.

It was a question that had been lingering in the back of Y/N’s mind, and she wasn’t quite sure why she chose that moment to blurt it out, but she did. “Are you going to propose soon?”

Harry’s gaze turned to her, eyebrows raised in light surprise, a small breath exhaled between his lips in a faint chuckle. “What?”

It was too late to take it back, so Y/N sat up and told him, “You’ve always talked about wanting to settle down and get married.” His features remained in small confusion. “We’ve been together for a while. Are you going to marry me?”

“Well, of course I’m going to marry you,” Harry said, like it were some scientific fact that everyone knew and was unchangeable. “You’re my forever, baby. I’ve written about a hundred songs about it.” His lips turned up in a smile. That smile he wore every time he told her he loved her, with a cocky and smug edge as if he were teasing her, laced with affection.

“I don’t mean we have to get married this instant, but I just, I guess we’ve never talked about if we were getting engaged or when and I-“

“Baby,” Harry cut off her nervous rambling, chuckling. He kissed her, soft lips with cracked edges from the cold and dry weather. “I already know what ring I’m going to buy. I’m just saving up for it.”

Y/N’s mind blanked for a moment. “You’re already thinking about rings?” Her lips parted in surprise.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, silly girl. You’re not the only one thinking about marriage.” He smiled at her, reassuring her that he was just teasing. “In case you haven’t noticed yet, I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

“Oh,” Y/N said, still in shock. Here she was, getting all nervous and insecure about marriage and he had already been planning to propose. Her question now seemed a bit foolish. She looked up at him and said, “You know I don’t need some needlessly expensive ring, right? You could buy it on Aliexpress and I couldn’t care less.”

Harry looked at her with slight amusement. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Y/N said with a small nod. “It’s stupid to spend money on a ring when it doesn’t make much of a difference.”

Harry sighed. “Baby, it’s not about the ring being expensive. It’s about the ring being a symbol for my devotion to you. And I want my devotion to be apparent in the beauty of it.” He tapped the finger on her left hand where the ring would lay. “No, I don’t have to spend money on an expensive ring. That’s why I’m not just getting a huge diamond. I’m getting something you’ll love.”

“But it’s expensive and it’s a waste of money on a simple ring-“

“Is it just a ring? Or is it a symbol of matrimony, of us being together forever?” Harry said gently, correcting her statement. “Not to mention you’re going to be wearing that ring every day ‘till you die.”

Y/N made a sound of contradiction. “Unless we get a divorce.”

Harry stared at her blankly for a few moments. He deadpanned, “Not funny.”

“Kinda funny,” Y/N said with a small smile.

She waited for Harry’s stern gaze to soften with adoration the way it always did. It only took a few moments for his composure to crumble and he leaned in close to her. His nose grazed against hers as he muttered quietly, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

The way he said it sounded like a declaration of love. Everything he said to her did. Because his love could never be called in to doubt. It shone through every word he uttered, every song he wrote, every thing he did.

His lips locked onto hers once again, the tension in his muscles melting away as if all he needed to feel complete was to be pressed against her. To have every inch of skin surrounding her, the taste of beer still on her tongue, and the scent of spring enveloping his senses.

“I’m going to marry you,” Harry uttered, an oath murmured against her lips before placing a hand on the back of her neck, pulling her close once again.

[cyoc49]

Put Some Clothes On!

I’ve made my thoughts about modern young people known in the past, but you must know I really do try to hold my tongue. Even if I disagree with the way today's young adults dress, that doesn't mean I have to project it onto folks who are just trying to enjoy themselves... I mean, I very much can project onto them if I wanted to, if you've read some of my other material you've seen what I'm capable of. But doing that comes with all other sorts of consequences, which are admittedly usually very fun for me, but can be a headache to deal with. So again, I hold my tongue and silently lament the state of manners and dress in the world.

But sometimes, even I reach my limit. The other day, for example, I was going for a walk by the beach, when I came across a group of summer breakers having a party. All were dressed in far too little, but I did my best to ignore them and keep walking. Until I saw this one man. He was clothed only by the loosest definition of the word. His swimsuit was more like a folded napkin, designed to cover the bare minimum. Where did he even find a swimsuit that small? Do they sell them that small nowadays? And worst of all was the cockiness. The clear pride he felt for his body and all that he was showing. It made me sick. I could see in his eyes he genuinely believed this is what a good life was about. If I looked closely, it even looked like he had applied oil to his body to maximize the appearance of his exposed features.

This was just too far, even for me. I felt my words wanting to make themselves known. And before I could quell my tongue, I burst out in anger

“Put some clothes on!”

The group looked at me, and several started jeering. But I only paid attention to the undressed man. He was staring back at me, and I could see a blank look in his eyes. Uh oh. This is what I was trying to avoid. But this young man had pushed me over the edge and now he was going to learn firsthand the effect I can have on people.

Suddenly the man stood up and started walking away from the group, paying no mind of any of them. He stared dead ahead, no sign of brain activity behind his eyes. He was walking like a man on a mission, until he reached what I presume was his car. He got in, still clad in only a speedo, and started to drive away.

Shoot. This was getting out of hand quickly. Before he got too far, I hailed my chauffeur and told him to follow the runaway vehicle. Roughly 10 minutes later we arrived at what I presume was the man’s house. He'd driven his car haphazardly up the driveway, leaving the car door open and keys still running in the ignition. I headed towards the front door, which had similarly been left wide open.

From what I could tell as I walked through his house, he lived alone. I heard noise coming from a room around the corner. I walked into what appeared to be the man’s bedroom, where I found him in the attached bathroom looking very different already.

True to my word, he had put on some clothes. But he’d done more than that: he’d gone into his closet and picked out an outfit typically reserved for more formal occasions. He was wearing a purple plaid dress shirt, a Vineyeard Vines whale emblazoned on the breast. The shirt was tucked into a pair of pressed white dress pants, cinched with a brown leather belt. He'd chosen a pair of brown loafers to wear with the ensemble, but had decided to forgo socks, giving him the air of someone more likely to spend summer afternoons at the docks or the country club than half-naked on the beach. To that same effect, he'd taken some hygiene measures to clean himself up all around. He had given himself a clean shave, now looking much more fresh faced than he did with the previous mustache. And he'd run some product through his hair, giving him an appearance that was put-together but not overly formal.

I slowly approached him, taking in the transformation he'd undergone in just a few minutes. He was intently staring in the mirror, flossing his teeth. Once he'd determined that those too were spotless, he turned to face me.

I looked him in the eyes again. The blank expression was gone, and I could again see that cockiness he'd exhibited before. Instead of pride for his body, he was now showing pride for his appearance. As I looked at him, the side of his mouth formed a smirk.

"Is this alright?" He asked me, with a tone somewhere between sarcastic remark and genuine inquiry.

He'd impressed me a lot in the past 20 minutes, but this was once again a step too far. I'd already broken my pledge to keep my words to myself, I might as well finish the job.

"On your hands and knees," I snapped, and within half a second he was on all fours on the ground. Bent with his head pointed towards my feet in reverence. That was more like it. “Now look at me” I commanded him, and his eyes turned up to meet mine. I could see a mixture of emotions in his eyes: Fear for the control I exhibited over his body, fading hints of that cockiness trying to hold on, a slight arousal at his current situation. But above all, in his eyes I saw that he now understood exactly what he was: an object. His life as he'd known it was over, from now on he existed for my pleasure. He could do his little cocky hot boy act, act like he was king of the world dressed up or down, but he would always know I totally controlled him, and with just a few words I could make him be or do anything I wanted.

I stared him back in the eyes with a hard glare.

“You’re mine now, you know that right?”

“Y-yes”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir”

“Say it again”

“Yes, sir”

“Say it again”

“Yes, sir”

“Who do you belong to?”

“You, sir”

“Who do you answer to?”

“You, sir”

“Whose boy are you?”

“Yours, sir”

“You love the orders I give you”

“I love the orders you give me, sir”

“You were lost before I found you.”

“I was lost before you found me, sir”

“You were degrading yourself with nudity.”

“I was degrading myself with nudity, sir”

“You were degrading yourself with vanity.”

“I was degrading myself with vanity, sir”

“You will follow a better way.”

“I will follow a better way, sir”

“You will follow my orders.”

“I will follow your orders, sir”

“I will make you into a man.”

“You will make me into a man, sir”

“A man has class.”

“A man has class, sir”

“A man should always respect himself.”

“A man should always respect himself, sir”

“A man should always dress properly.”

“A man should always dress properly, sir”

“A man should always obey his superiors.”

“A man should always obey his superiors, sir”

“A man knows his place.”

“A man knows his place, sir.”

“Now repeat it all back to me, boy, and tell me what you are in this world.”

A last trace of fear flared up in his eyes, one dying attempt of his conscious to hold on. One last breath of his old self. And then it was gone, and there was nothing behind his eyes. Just a drone’s gaze. Then, he began to speak in a complete monotone:

“I am what you make me into, sir. I was nothing before you, now I exist entirely for you, sir. I was lost, now I see my one goal in life. I need to be a good boy. I need to dedicate every fiber of my being to becoming a good boy. To following instructions. To respecting myself and other. I need to be molded into the picture perfect image of a gentleman, and I need you to do it for me, sir.”

It was done. Just like that, he was mine. I knew it wouldn’t take long to reach this point, but I did always enjoy the process. The rebellious ones are always particularly fun to break.

Now that he’s mine, I’ll need him to take care of a few last tasks.

“Listen up. I’m going to let you stand up in a moment, but you need to listen carefully.”

“Yes, sir”

“You’ve got a few tasks you need to take care of right now. Understand?”

“Yes, sir”

“Good. First of all, all this old junk has to go. All your clothes, all your furniture, it's all vulgar and unbecoming of a man. Go through some luxury catalogs and order new clothes and furniture. Everything you wear should have at least three digits on the price tag. All your furniture should be vintage. And as for that hunk of junk outside, go to the dealership and trade it for something with an Italian name. You might drain your savings doing this, but you don't need that money anymore."

"Yes, sir"

"Next, you're going to quit your job. Your friends, any clubs you were part of, any sports, it's all going away. You're not even going to say goodbye. Take your phone and throw it away."

"Yes, sir"

"Good. Once you've done all that, you're going to pay a visit to me." I handed him a card, "This is where I live. You'll be spending a good deal of your time here from now on. You'll get the chance to meet your new colleagues, other men like you who have come under my employ through one circumstance or another. They'll make sure to give you a warm welcome, as well as explain the duties and regulations you'll be expected to obey. Does that all sound good?"

"Yes, sir" In his eyes I saw total obedience, not just a desire to follow my orders but a love for my orders. He’ll make a good boy. Particularly malleable, ready to be shaped into a fun new mold.

"Good, now stand up."

He stood up and looked at me eye-to-eye again. Any of the previous cockiness was gone. I silently admired my handiwork to myself. This was a particularly troublesome man, and I had done a good job getting him into this shape. I thought about making some clever remark to him about the change he’d undergone, but my tongue had already got me into enough trouble today. So instead, I just looked at him and smirked.

He looked down, embarrassed and aroused by the power I held over him. He walked off in an extremely rigid, formal walk, picking up trash to throw away. I walked out of his home and back towards my car, where my chauffeur was ready to take me back to my home. I’d alert my other boys that they’d be expecting a new arrival tonight, and then the fun will really begin.

[imagination-mess]

Reality Show: Pro Heroes Wives (Aizawa Shota Edition)

Reference to Rika from Bakugou and Pro Hero from Kirishima and Midoriya

*mentions you have 3 children (Eri/Shinsou/your own with Aizawa)*

________________________________

There is a reality show where pro heroes' wives are on television and paid to be there. It is filled with juicy gossip and pure drama. There are few wives in this second season who were kept out of the spotlight which adds mystery and theories to be created about who they were married to. 

The same winners who were in the group that couldn’t be identified are back this season as a surprise challenge.  Unlike last season, it wasn’t told in the very  beginning of this reason already revealed which Pro Heroes Wives will be featured

There are only a few left remaining without being matched, which were mostly underground heroes who people don’t typically pay attention to. Half of the cast already knew each other because their spouses have interacted on more than one occasion and are disqualified from participating in the weekend challenge of the show for those spouses. The others who do not know have to identify them, but the others did not spill any things that would clue who their spouse was. 

This weekend's challenge was the ones who didn’t get their rating from the public are put to guess their opponent chosen by the directors of who their spouses are, people are having a hard time guessing at home as well. These wives have pictures of other pro heroes which confuses the public about who their spouses were. It was a friendly picture to professional pictures that had been taken. 

The two members, Rika, and Pro Hero [Blank] who were also voted off from the show by their peers had made their decision. They make this decision based on their friends and notes taken throughout the show. 

 It was you, they had to guess who your spouse is. The two ladies stood on the platform while you were sitting on the red couch seat with a wine glass in your hands. There was a screen behind you with a black box with an enormous question mark. You were confident they wouldn't be able to guess correctly. You have been on the hot seat a few times. You also know they wouldn't be able to because they have very little information about underground heroes, which you have been told by your husbands’ former students' wives. 

“We chose Pro Hero Mindjack,” Rika speaks into the microphone while the screen reveals the pro hero at the latest picture of the Hero Gala beside them. 

There was an immediate reaction from you which was coughing on your wine with eyes widened. Your facial expression shows how shocked you were. and the crowd who were within the circle of the pro hero were screaming “HOW” to cough on their drinks.

“Based on the comment you mentioned this week was that your husband's quirk involves a specific muscle in the body.” Pro Hero [Blank] adding an explanation. 

“What do you say to that? Miss [Former Last Name]?” The host asks for your input. 

“Mindjack is a very handsome man, but he is way too young for me. Here is a clue,  I am a mother of 3. I am confident my oldest son is having some sort of reaction to this but don’t expect a reaction on social media. You are not going to find it. Additionally, my oldest son is around his age.” 

Meanwhile, on social media, people were going crazy about the fact you looked younger than your age to be a mother of three. No one could find the children that related to you, because you never did post them on your social media including your spouse. It was a very professional account which disappointed some fans of the show. They aren’t able to figure out who your spouse is.

Proherofan34 tweeted: All I am hearing is that [Name] is milf. 

Uravityfan89 tweets: I need her skincare routine! *attaches its mighty need. * 

There are videos of you including from seasons 1 and 2 clips of you with the audio sound of Mommy, sorry to step on me. Other videos of being a collaboration of your top moments of being unbothered along with your greatest comebacks from season 1. You humbled certain younger women. There were old videos of you throwing a man twice your size out of a nightclub along with videos of being a momma bear to those who needed help at the nightclub circling the internet. 

There were multiple pictures of you and younger Shinsou with a few others such as Bakugou, and Kaminari at different metal musician group concerts that circled around the interest taken from the Pro Hero Chargebolt account.

The clue you had given to the cast and to the public had narrowed the options to two options the Pro Heroes who have 3 children had mentioned in interviews and such. 

Pro Hero Eraserhead, Pro Hero Hawks, and Pro Hero Gang Orca. 

Meanwhile, Eri is holding out her hand out at Hitoshi who was pulling out his wallet for the money. He has lost the bet. Eri is glued to the show and watching too intensely to the point that she is rambling about her theories with her brother and father. 

Shota is just staring at them silently in disbelief with the toddler sleeping on his lap. 

‘I am not gonna even ask.’

Pro Hero Deku Edition

Pro Hero Dynamight Edition

Pro Hero Shoto Edition

Pro Hero Red Riot Edition

Pro Hero Hellfire (Touya) Edition

Pro Hero Mindjack Edition

Reality Show: Unmasked Pro Heroes

[devsgames]

"Is Tumblr Blaze Worth It For Promoting My Indie Game?" - a Postmortem

Lately I've been thinking about marketing and promotion of my games and wanting to explore new avenues. Tumblr Blaze was one of those things I wanted to dip my toes into a bit to understand how it works and if it has potential for advertising my sort of stuff. Like as not, there's no point in making games if nobody actually plays them after all!

Conversely I have also heard bad things about Tumblr Blaze; that it's not very targeted, the reach is fairly limited, and people on this site generally hate anything that is Blazed to them.

I wanted to test all these waters a bit to see if it's something worth investing in, and share what I found for my own benefit and the benefit of others. Finding various info on topics like this for indie dev can be a pain, so why not share my findings?

The Plan and Goal

While Centauri Dark is still in development and is the thing I actually want to advertise more of right now, Bombing!! 2 is already out and is much more marketable with some cool art made by community members. I think as a first impression it tends to show well, so I decided to make my test post with that to get exposure to it and see how it goes.

My goal was mostly to see what a Blaze post does for advertising a launched indie game and how much "eyes on" it actually gets in terms of actual engagement.

Posting

From the outset I knew I wanted to make a post that 1) wasn't annoying to people just looking at the webbed site 2) featured a call to action of some kind I could measure 3) wouldn't break the bank.

Here's what I came up with:

The intention was to flash some cool looking art to grab their attention, explain what they're looking at, and then link the game a couple of times while mentioning "Buy or Wishlist" for good measure as a call to action.

Since Bombing!! 2 is such an art-forward game, I found the coolest art pieces made by community members that felt the most "Tumblr" to match the audience, and would also show off the range of art you could make in the game. I also wanted to make it personal, like me writing a message to whoever would read it instead of something that sounded like a standard ad. Generally I think it was a fairly reasonable little post that catches some interest and doesn't overstay too much of a welcome. What I think also helps is it's explicitly a "hey this might interest you" sort of framing (as opposed to a more "why am I even seeing this" sort of post you tend to get from Blaze sometimes).

I also think it's worth emphasizing that writing a posted explicitly intending to be Blazed was a much stronger approach than just Blazing some random post I had made for my own followers months ago, because I could align it to my promotional goals. It also assumed that random people on the Internet would be the ones seeing my post, and not the followers and friends who already know me and my work.

Blazing

As I looked into Blaze early on there was actually a few key things I wasn't fully aware of about the system.

It guarantees a minimum amount of views

It guarantees it will be Blazed for a minimum of 24 hours no matter how many views

You pay a single base rate for the whole campaign (great compared to some ads which tend to price based on views/engagement).

You can define an audience explicitly (some info that was floating around lead me to believe this wasn't the case).

Campaigns come in a few amounts:

I paid for the 2nd tier; $17 USD for a campaign, which amounts to $25 CDN. I wanted to go a little more into it than the lowest tier offered, since I figured the lowest wouldn't give me as much data as I would've liked and I wanted to know what to reasonably expect should I decide to do it again in the future.

Since Bombing!! 2 sells for ~$20USD I also figure if the Blaze campaign prompts at least two people to buy the game then the Blaze would have paid for itself.

Blaze lets you use tags to define which audiences you want to reach. Unfortunately it doesn't let you view that data after you've applied it, but the tags I chose were generally anyone who spoke English and has an interest in Digital Artist or Video Game circles.

The campaign ran for 24 Hours, starting yesterday and ending today.

The Results

I definitely noticed a sharp uptick in engagement during the campaign! It hit the target audience of ~7k around one hour into the campaign, after which point I noticed engagement take a sharp decline.

Here's the Blaze campaign analytics provided by Tumblr (which was also very helpful to have):

So it seems ~12.5k views from Blaze, ~370 likes, ~80 reblogs, 5 shares elsewhere. The post itself has ~520 notes, so I assume there's some reblogging and liking happening from beyond the Blaze campaign that isn't pictured here. The good thing is that despite having reached its 7k target after only 1 hour, it continued to circulate and be Blazed until 24 hours later. Eventually the post made it to ~12k views overall, which was nearly double the amount promised by the campaign - I attribute this mostly to a strong post/target audience/subject matter and I'm sure it's not standard.

Here's the general velocity of engagement around when the post was Blazed:

It jumped much more than I honestly expected, but you can tell Blaze seemed to put it in front of people's faces more than my regular posts do. You can see it drops off sharply as I hit the quoted amount as well, back down to the normal amount of engagement I get on Tumblr.

But this stuff isn't really what I was looking for; I was looking for sales and keeping an eye on 'conversions' - or how many users followed my call to action because of the post. Likes and stuff are fine and cool, but how many people bought or wishlisted the game on Steam as a result of seeing the post on Tumblr?

Tumblr and Blaze obviously have no way of telling me this, so I'm looking to Steam to show me changes there.

Here's what Steam shows me happened to the Bombing!! 2 views yesterday:

That's not nothing! This shows the last month's worth of traffic to the Bombing!! 2 page, and that number was at least double yesterday as it was regularly. It's very cool to know a number of people did actually click through to the game page in order to view the game from the Blaze post.

But the real REAL question is how many bought or wishlisted the game because of this post?

I'll start with Sales, on a graph of 1 month of data:

Flat line :( Which is fine though, as the game wasn't on Sale and was just reaching people for the first time. I didn't honestly expect any immediate sales from this, and was more focused on other engagement anyways. Honestly I would be surprised if someone saw the game on a Blaze post and bought it immediately. I mean it's good but it's probably not THAT good!

Now to Wishlists, which can be a good indicator of who might likely buy your game in the future. Basically if someone has added a game to their wishlist, there's reason to believe they might buy it in the future, which is good for your game.

Here's the Wishlists for Bombing!! 2 from the last month:

That's 23 Wishlists in one day! That's roughly ~18 Wishlists more than an average day!

It's hard to know if some of these are because of the post or just a statistical fluke. However, when compared to previous trends on the game page that's quite a noticeable difference. It means even if no one bought it now, they were interested enough to add it to their shortlist. Looking at it another way, if two people who Wishlisted decided to buy the game in the future the campaign will have paid for itself.

Conclusions

I think like any advertising if you go into it with a plan in mind and try to build something around a specific action, Blaze seems pretty worth it to me especially if I just want to get eyes on something. On top of the obvious data telling me people were interested in the game, there was a few folks who just plain complemented the game or acknowledged it 'was the first Blaze post they were actually interested in', which felt worth it in it's own qualitative sort of way. It's also worth noting my game sells for $20USD, so the margins are large enough that making it back isn't too challenging.

I think having an idea of the message I wanted to send really helped, and I'm sure I'd happily do this again with a larger audience and another plan (and probably will do it for when Centauri Dark releases).

[olderthannetfic]

I know you love scivener, but do you know anything about ellipsus? It's meant to be an aternative to google docs for collaborative writing.

I heard about them when they dropped nanowrimo as a sponsor over their inclusion of AI bullshit, which seemed promising. And digging around on their homepage I saw mentions of beta reading and ao3, and apparently they're trying to promote themselves on Tumblr now.

So it really sounds like we're the target audience, which could be great, but I don't know enough to be able to tell if there's an obvious catch somewhere?

--

This is the first I've heard of them. A quick scroll through their website seems promising.

As usual, the basic questions are:

How much does this product cost to develop?

Do they have a business plan that makes sense with that cost?

This kind of software can, theoretically, be made by a few friends dicking around, not a huge programmer team all of whom have it as their primary job, so it isn't the pile of massive red flags that all attempts at social media are.

From the site:

"Today we are a small, close-knit team of seven, located across the post-capitalist landscapes of Berlin, Bologna, Buenos Aires, and Szczecin. (So much for our alliteration-based hiring strategy.) True to our mission, we're a progressive, remote-friendly company that prioritizes creativity, community, and creative exchange."

Jobs are listed as: Co-founder and CEO, Co-founder and community, Product and marketing, Design, and Engineering x3.

That seems like a reasonable breakdown and a size of team that could possibly be paid for with some non-insane business model.

The types of red flags we're looking for are

"We want to be the next instagram!"

Many idea people with nebulous skills, few programmers

Thinking you can run tumblr with three programmers

Thinking you can pay for 100 programmers with a cheapass subscription model

Programmers are random, cheap contract workers the founders don't know

Venture capital from sources that will want a big payout rather than support from people who share the goals/values of the team

Extremely overcrowded field with tons of products that do exactly this already

Unclear nature of product or a product that doesn't seem to actually have a market

etc.

What they say about money is in the FAQ:

Will Ellipsus have a paid plan? In order to grow the team and fund ongoing feature development, we will need to charge for a version of Ellipsus at some point. A paid version would be targeting users with specific needs related to advanced security, data syncing, and collaboration. But there will always be a free version of Ellipsus, and we want to be as generous as possible in what's included on that free plan (e.g., unlimited docs and drafts, for starters). It takes time to build a great freemium experience (not to mention a premium product people will happily pay for), which is why we won't roll that out in 2024. While the features that will be included in our paid plan aren't final-final, we can share that everything in the product today will be included in our free plan.

This sounds reasonable. It just remains to be seen whether they keep at it or go belly up (taking your data with them). I guess you'd have to know more about the specific people building this to decide whether they'll be reliable.

The biggest potential issues I see are it being difficult to get people to ditch google docs despite its issues, this taking off big time and the owners deciding to sell it for $$$$$$ to someone who will then ruin it, or the team just not being competent.

But since I don't know any of them, I have no idea how good they are at business.

[kikyoupdates]

Love Bite ⭑˚🩸⭑ 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

yandere!vampires x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, original characters, vampire!ocs x fem!reader

Desperate for money to pay off your debts, you sign up for a program that allows you to sell your blood to vampires. At first, everything is fine, and you’re finally able to make ends meet. But they soon begin craving more than just your blood.

previous | story masterlist | next

“I’ll have a large caramel macchiato, with light ice, soy milk, extra whipped cream, and can you please use one of the big straws? The small ones are a real pain in the ass. I asked for a big straw last time and they still didn’t give it to me, so make sure you get it right this time.”

You’re tempted to roll your eyes at her, but she seems like the type to complain to your manager. Getting fired isn’t an option right now. Not until you finish paying Johnny back, at least.

“Of course,” you say, offering a fake, sickeningly sweet smile. “I’ll get that started for you right away.”

She narrows her eyes at you, no doubt assuming that you’ll manage to fuck it up somehow. Being a barista isn’t all that bad in and of itself, but it’s dealing with annoying ass customers that really makes for a tedious experience. Well, as long as you’re getting paid, you can put up with pretty much anything. Hence the fact that you’re selling your own blood.

You whip up the woman’s order, get briefly bitched at because you apparently took ‘too long’, and when she finally walks out of the store, you sneakily flip up your middle finger.

Interactions like these are pretty standard in the service industry.

You’re working the closing shift, which means it’s late, and thankfully, not very many people are still coming in. You spend most of your time wiping the counters down and preparing to close up shop.

Just one more minute. Only one more minute, and then you can lock the doors, flip the closed sign over, and you’re finally home free.

You’re excited to go home and get some sleep. You’ve been running on fumes these past few days, even more so than usual. Having less blood in your body than normal isn’t exactly doing wonders for your physical wellbeing.

But because your luck is nonexistent, of course, of fucking course a customer decides to walk in at the very last moment.

You grit your teeth. People like this are the absolute worst. They know not the meaning of shame.

A young man has just stepped inside. He’s got soft, delicate features, and a somewhat distraught look in his eyes. He seems awfully skittish for some reason. Which is dumb, because if anyone ought to be unnerved right now, it’s you, the person whose shift just got extended.

“Um,” he calls out shakily. “You’re still open... right?”

You have half a mind to turn him away, but since he looks pretty upset, you don’t want to be the one to ruin his day even more.

“We’re still open for a little bit longer,” you concede. “Just tell me your order and I’ll make it as fast as I can.”

He exhales in relief. “Oh, th-thank you! I really appreciate it. Sorry for coming in so late. The other coffee shop I tried turned me away, so I had to go somewhere else...”

Turned him away? That doesn’t exactly sound like something that would be allowed. Turned him away on the basis of what, exactly? Poor behavior?

“Did you do something to offend the people working there?” you can’t help but frown, curious despite it not being any of your business.

He lowers his gaze to the ground. “I... guess you could say that. I made people uncomfortable just by being there. They told me I was scaring away all their customers. Even though I made sure to go in late, when not many people were around...”

He seems to be making a conscious effort not to move his mouth much as he speaks, but even so, for just a brief moment, you happen to spot them. His fangs.

Ah. He’s a vampire.

You frown. Having already met two vampires and allowed them to drink your blood, it goes without saying that the novelty has kind of worn off. Still, not long ago, you might have been in the same boat as those other people, living in perpetual fear of vampires because you didn’t know any better.

“They can’t refuse to serve you just because you’re a vampire,” you say, and his shoulders jump slightly when he hears you use the term. “That’s discrimination, and I’m pretty sure it’s illegal. You could file a complaint against that establishment.”

He furiously shakes his head. “N-No. I’m not trying to create any problems for anyone. It’s fine. I know people can’t help but be afraid. If I were in their position, I probably would be too. But... is it okay for me to be here? If you feel uncomfortable, I can leave right away.”

“Of course not,” you frown. “I would never make you leave."

“It’s just that I noticed you seemed a bit upset when I walked in...”

You let out a sigh. “That’s just because I was looking forward to going home, and you walked in right before closing hour. But now that I understand your circumstances, it makes sense. I’m not going to hold anything against you, so just try to relax, and let me know what you want me to make for you.”

His expression brightens, and if that’s all it takes to elicit a positive reaction out of him, you’re starting to gain some valuable insight as to how vampires are treated around here.

“I just want a medium black coffee,” he says.

A medium black coffee. Such a simple order, and to think that he had to jump through hoops to be able to get it.

You no longer hold any prejudice against vampires. They’re just people, like everyone else. It’s not like they chose to have to drink blood in order to survive. It’s simply the way they were born, and there’s nothing they can do to change it.

Besides, it’s all thanks to vampires that you’re able to keep up with Johnny’s payments. Vampires are quite literally saving your life.

“There you go,” you say, handing him the coffee. It was a breeze to make, and it hardly took any time either. It looks like you’ll be out of here a lot faster than you thought.

The man stares at you for a few moments, but he isn’t looking into your eyes. You don’t realize what he’s so fixated on until his lips finally curve into a smile.

“Um, thank you,” he says. “I really appreciate it... [Name].”

Ah. He must have been looking at your name tag. You smile back at him, then lean over the counter slightly.

“It was my pleasure. And if you don’t mind me asking, you are...?”

“Huh? Oh,” he blinks. “E-Elliot. My name is Elliot.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Elliot. And don’t worry. From now on, you can come to this store whenever you need some coffee. No one here will discriminate against you, and if I happen to be working a shift when you come in, maybe I can even hook you up with some free samples,” you wink.

Elliot’s smile grows even wider, and he frantically nods his head, unable to contain his excitement.

“Thank you!” he splutters. “Thank you so much!”

You can’t help but chuckle. How adorable. It upsets you that he’s being shunned, but not all humans are assholes, just like how not all vampires are bad. Hopefully he’ll meet some nice people soon, and in the meantime, you’ll happily serve him coffee whenever he wants.

Now, then. It’s time to finish cleaning up and finally go home.

You’re standing in front of an unfamiliar house, and for various reasons, you feel apprehensive.

This is the address he gave me. So, then... this is really happening.

Since you agreed to take Felix up on his offer, he’s been messaging you and trying to set up a time for you to meet. You told him that you wouldn’t be comfortable with disclosing where you live, and he agreed, saying that you were more than welcome to have these private visits at his house.

Ugh. Actually, calling them ‘private visits’ doesn’t exactly sit right with you. It makes the whole thing sound a lot dirtier than it is.

You agreed to this, but even so, you’re starting to get cold feet. Isn’t this usually how people get murdered? And you’re not referring to him being a vampire, you’re referring to being a woman and walking straight into the home of a man you barely even know.

Selling your blood to him at Plasma Inc.’s headquarters is definitely safer, but then you remember the whole reason you agreed to this in the first place.

Double pay.

Fuck. The money is calling to you, and you know just how much of a difference that amount would make.

Which is why, even though your fight-or-flight instincts are kicking off, you ignore them and ring the doorbell.

Felix greets you with a sharp, ear-splitting grin, like always.

“[Name]!” he beams. “Come in! I’m so glad you’re here. For a moment, I was actually worried you were going to stand me up, haha.”

I thought about it.

You swallow your thoughts and instead nod. “Hello. You said I could come in, right?”

“Of course! Make yourself at home.”

Felix smiles again and steps aside, granting you entry. You’re not sure what he does for a living, and what kind of jobs are even available to vampires, considering Elliot struggled to be able to buy a goddamn cup of coffee, but if his house is any indication, then he’s certainly not strapped for cash. It makes your cheap studio apartment look even worse than it actually is.

You wander off to the living room and instinctively grab a seat on the couch. You figure you’ll be sitting down while he drinks your blood, like you usually do.

“Before we start,” you suddenly say, “you’re... not going to rip me off, are you? Drink my blood and then kick me out without paying me?”

Felix’s brows skyrocket, and he lets out a gasp, visibly offended.

“I would never do that!” he insists. “I want to be able to keep drinking your blood, so why would I ruin all of that just to save money one time? I want this to be a recurring thing, not just a one-and-done.”

Well, you suppose that makes sense. If he cons you, then no way in hell will you ever meet up with him again, and he seems to really like your blood. He would basically just be shooting himself in the foot.

You’re going to get paid. That much seems to be a given. So, with all the bullshit out of the way... you suppose it’s time to get started.

Felix sits down next to you, visibly eager. He’s already reaching over to loosen the top of your shirt, but before he gets any closer, you quickly push him way.

“W-Wait,” you blurt. “I’m not trying to bitch and whine, but... is it at all possible for you to be a bit more careful? It really hurt last time. I’ll do it anyways, but if you’re able to, just please. I would really appreciate it.”

Xavier made it slightly more bearable, so surely, Felix is capable of doing the same.

Whether or not he cares enough to bother is a different matter entirely, though.

Felix smiles sweetly and rubs your shoulder. “Of course,” he says, and you’re not quite sure you like that lecherous look in his eyes. It’s as if he’s about to eat you up. Which, you suppose he is, but there’s something much more ominous than the literal sense.

You decide to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in your gut and turn away, granting him access to your neck.

“I’ll be careful this time,” Felix promises, and he wraps his arms around you before unhinging his jaw.

No matter how many times it happens, you doubt you’ll ever be able to get used to this feeling. But at least it seems like Felix is trying to be gentler than he was before. The pain isn’t anywhere near as unbearable, even though it still makes you sick to your stomach.

You close your eyes, and as always, wait for it to be over. Felix gasps for breath every so often, and you swear you hear him let out a groan of pleasure next to your ear.

It’s okay. He’ll be done soon. Any moment now.

…

Why isn’t he done yet?

“Um,” you grimace, trying to push him away. “I think that’s enough. I’m starting to feel a bit faint. Please stop now.”

But Felix doesn’t stop. Instead, he pushes you down, making your back flatten against the cushions of the couch. He’s bigger than you, and stronger too, so he’s able to hold you in place without any problems.

It’s then, as you feel the full weight of his body pressing down on you, that you realize just how fucking dangerous this is.

“Please,” you plead. The pain in your neck is sharp and unrelenting, but above all else, you’re scared. Why isn’t he letting go? He’s already taken more than enough blood. Your vision is starting to cloud over, and it feels like you’ve broken out into a cold sweat.

Felix is either so overwhelmed by his bloodthirst that he can’t hear you, or worse yet, he simply doesn’t care.

Either way, it doesn’t matter.

You scream.

“Get the fuck off me!”

You manage to knee him in the stomach, and despite the fact that vampires have strong, resilient bodies, the act still makes him double over and let out a groan of discomfort.

While he falters, you hurry to roll onto the floor, then you pick yourself up as fast as possible.

You back into the nearest wall, lightheaded and terrified. You should be running away. You should be, but...

He still hasn’t paid you yet.

“I-I’m sorry,” Felix gasps. He stands up, and when he takes a step forward, you start shaking like a leaf in the wind. Guilt creeps onto his expression. “I don’t... I’m not sure what came over me. I took things too far. I’m sorry, [Name]. I really, really am, and I promise it will never happen again.”

You use a hand to brace yourself against the wall, still shaking. Fuck. You don’t feel well. This bastard really drank too much of your blood. Any more, and it probably would’ve landed you in the hospital. Meeting up with him is way too fucking risky. Even if he says he wants to keep drinking your blood and seeing you regularly, there won’t be any blood to drink if he drains you dry.

“Give me the money you promised,” you seethe.

Felix nods hastily and pulls out a wad of bills from his wallet. He hands them to you, and you snap them up in the blink of an eye.

Then, you turn to leave.

“Wait,” Felix protests. His lips are still painted red with your blood. “You’re not... angry, are you? It was just a mistake. I got a little carried away. All you need to do is tell me to stop, alright? I promise I’ll listen. This really won’t ever happen again.”

Bullshit.

You don’t trust him. He clearly doesn’t know how to hold back, and even though this would have been a sweet deal, you’re not reckless enough to completely gamble your life away. You still have Xavier. And eventually, you’ll probably meet another vampire client.

This guy is bad fucking news, and you want nothing to do with him.

“Goodbye,” you breathe out. He tries to chase after you, but you to beat him to the door and run off into the dead of night.

“I’ll call you!” Felix cries out. “We’ll stay in touch, right?”

You don’t respond.

You managed to pay Johnny back on time again. He seemed pleased with the fact that you’ve been maintaining a diligent schedule, which is probably why he hasn’t been threatening to beat the shit out of you recently.

Thanks to selling your blood, you’ve got more money on hand than you’ve had in a very long time.

But as you will soon realize, this arrangement is far from sustainable.

“[Name], are you feeling okay? You don’t look like you’re well enough to be here...”

Your coworker, Caleb, offers you a concerned look. He’s always been considerate to a fault, and while you appreciate his kindness, you don’t exactly have a choice in the matter. Regardless of how you feel, you need the money. Selling your blood isn’t enough to pay off your debt in full. It’s only thanks to all your part-time jobs that you’re still making the cut.

“I’m fine,” you wave off, and needless to say, he doesn’t look convinced. You do your best to ignore him and throw on your apron, hobbling weakly across the steel kitchen floor. Thankfully, this is your dishwashing job, so you won’t have to interact with any customers. You really don’t have the energy for that today.

“Okay, but make sure to take breaks,” Caleb insists. “I'm worried that you might slip and get hurt if you’re not careful.”

“I promise I’ll be fine. But thanks for worrying.”

Taking breaks in the middle of your shift isn’t an option. Your boss is a real piece of shit, and he already got mad at you for taking a breather once before, when you were worn-out after pulling two all-nighters in a row. If he catches you again, odds are, you’ll be fired. The job of a dishwasher isn’t exactly difficult to fill, and he’ll readily give your spot to someone who doesn’t slack off.

So, you put on your gloves, bow your head, and get to work. Since the task is so mindless and repetitive, it allows you to drift off and think of other, more entertaining things. Plus, the sound of the water faucet helps you fall into a steady rhythm, and it’s soothing, in a way.

But today, you find yourself struggling to do something as simple as washing dishes. Your hands can’t seem to stop shaking, and white spots repeatedly fade in and out of your vision. Something feels... off. Even your breathing seems to be getting shallower by the minute.

“Caleb,” you mumble weakly. “I think... I might need to...”

You can’t finish your sentence in time. Everything blurs, your legs go wobbly behind the knees, and soon enough, your head hits the ground.

The last thing you hear is Caleb screaming out your name.

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[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: After losing your job and being falsely imprisoned, you turn to the Twins for help—which eventually stirs up unspoken feelings.

Genre: hurt and comfort 🤍

Warnings: murder, blood, prison, alludes to depression, canon like violence, gun wounds, protective!Tangerine, swearing,

~ @j23r23 thank you so much for requesting, my darling! hope you like this one! ~

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

The winter air feels much colder than it had in a while. You sigh, taking in your surroundings and you frown when you see them.

They're parked not far away from you, both of them leaning against their car like some good-for-nothing gangsters (which you suppose they kinda are).

Lemon is the one who sees you first. He nudges his brother, causing Tangerine to look up from the ground and shift when he sees you. You suddenly feel insecure. You must look like a shell of yourself, your eyes darkened from the few years you'd spent in prison. You don't know if you want them to see you like this but you don't have much of a choice because Lemon waves you over and you walk up to them. 

"Hi," Lemon says and pulls you into his arms for a moment. He rests his hand on your shoulder and he looks sympathetic. "How're holdin' up?" He asks seriously and he doesn't comment on how exhausted and beaten down you must look.

It had been a long three years.

You nod, afraid to speak in case your voice sounds different. Lemon smiles weakly and looks up at Tangerine, who's unusually calm—especially for this situation. You turn to him and see him hesitate. You strain a smile and then he pulls you in his arms, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You're frozen in place.

God, he still smells the same. 

"No one hurt ya in there, did they?" Tangerine whispers roughly, his arms tightening. 

You shake your head and he pulls away, concern evident in his eyes from your lack of verbal communication. You have always been so talkative and bubbly and now you're some sad girl Tangerine doesn't m recognize. It breaks his heart. 

 You're quiet as you sit in their car. You can faintly hear Lemon and Tangerine's hushed whispers but you don't pay them any mind. You look outside at the passing cars and open the window, feeling the air on your skin. You missed this.

When you realize they're pulling up to your apartment complex, you frown and lean forwards. "What are we doing here?" you ask, your voice strained. It's the first thing you've spoken to them.

"What do you mean? You're home," Lemon shrugs and exits the car. Tangerine follows him and you do too. You stand in front of your apartment door, feeling your lip wobble. 

"But–I didn't–I couldn't pay for all this in jail," you whisper. 

"Yeah, we know so we paid for it for ya," Tangerine sniffs nonchalantly and he puts his hands in his pockets, "T'wasn't a problem." 

You look at them both, feeling embarrassing tears water your eyes and you cover your mouth to hide any equally embarrassing noise.

Both Lemon and Tangerine don't know how to deal with your sudden shift in emotion so Lemon, being the brother who is more in touch with his emotions, simply holds you. You feel warm and safe in his arms.

Once your tears have finally calmed down, you find yourself sitting around your dinner table, your eyes round as you look at both of the brothers. You can see the plant you loved so much isn't dead—they'd even taken care your plants.

Lemon stirs his tea, while Tangerine looks at you from across the table. His eyes glance across all your features, as if he's still making sure you're truly okay. 

"I want to kill him," you suddenly say, catching them by surprise. 

"You want to kill who, luv?" Tangerine frowns, crossing his legs.

"My uncle. He's the reason all this happened, isn't he? I had a promising career in MI6. I was excellent at my job and then some asshole—who's already dead mind you—framed me because my uncle asked him to? And then he just sat around as my life burned into nothing," you rant, your voice strained, "I have nothing anymore. No promising job, no dignity, and all I have are two criminals I accidentally became friends with from a pub years ago," you rub your eyes in annoyance, "no offense."

"Some taken," Lemon narrows his eyes at you and then grunts when Tangerine kicks his shin. 

Tangerine understands. He really does. You'd lost everything because of your uncle. He knew how much you loved your job, how much you loved doing the right thing. Now, you were disgraced and your only friends were criminals.

Yeah…Tangerine definitely understood. 

"Are you sure murdering him is gonna make ya feel any better, darlin'?" he asks cautiously. Tangerine knows your moral compass so well he'd even judged you for it when you'd first met. You don't kill—you aren't a killer—and that's one of the reasons he's so drawn to you. 

You're a good person.

You nod. "Yeah, I'm sure. And I'm asking you for help, not your permission. I'll find a way to do it either way," you say and Tangerine sends Lemon a look. Lemon shrugs at his brother. 

"I'm game. I never liked that fuckin' bastard." 

Tangerine sighs and looks at you. He can't exactly say no now because that would make him the arsehole. So he just nods. 

* * *

Tangerine knew this was a bad fuckin' idea—especially sending you in alone—because he can hear you sobbing into your mic. He can't see you but he hears your desperation as you confront your uncle in his fancy, million-dollar home as he and Lemon wait outside, listening in to the entire conversation through their ear-pieces.

It's killing him.

"Calm down will you, cupcake, you're not making any sense," your uncle's condescending tone rings through Tangerine's ears and his hand tightens around his gun. 

"Don't you dare call me that," you hiss, "I'm not ten anymore. I trusted you with that information about the mole—I just never imagined you would have been the mole in the first place and then that you would plan my imprisonment! I fucking trusted you—you piece of shit!"

Tangerine hears some commotion and steps forwards but Lemon puts a hand out to stop him from intervening. 

"You don't know when to stay down, do you, girl?" your uncle's menacing voice cuts into Tangerine's earpiece, a little less loud than yours, and it sounds as if he's speaking to some animal—which makes Tangerine's blood boil and his jaw clench. 

"Bruv, calm down," Lemon warns his brother in a whisper, "Ya gotta keep a cool head. She can handle herself."

"Ya, I know, but she shouldn't have to," Tangerine hisses, his hand clenching around his gun. 

Suddenly, they both hear your squeal, accompanied by a loud crash and in an instant, Tangerine and Lemon are breaking into your uncle's house.

"Y/n!" Tangerine screams without thinking, skidding into the living room where he sees that your uncle has shoved you into his bookshelf, causing a bunch of pictures to crash to the ground. 

Your eyes widen when you see Tangerine. He whips his head around just in time to see your uncle aiming a gun at his chest. He inhales, his arm lifting to shoot his own weapon when he feels you collide with his shoulder, sending him falling sideways as three loud gunshots ring around the house.

One from his gun, one from your uncle's, and one from Lemon's. 

With a grunt, Tangerine lands on his shoulder, his eyes widening when he sees your uncle's body crash to the ground; blood oozing from his head and his thigh. Tangerine pats his chest for any sign of injury and immediately he feels like the biggest asshole because he remembers you had pushed him away. 

His head snaps around and his breath leaves him. You're barely standing, your hands clutching at your side where your uncle's bullet had punctured you. Immediately, Tangerine jumps to his feet just in time to catch your crumbling form as you lean against his body and grasp at his arm.

"Tan," you whimper, your chest rising and falling rapidly as blood seeps through your blouse.

"Fuck," Lemon exclaims, holstering his smoaking gun and rushes to your other side. 

"She fuckin' jumped in front of me," Tangerine sounds panicked as his hand pushes back some of your hair, his cheeks hot and his eyes burning. He feels tears run down his cheeks. "Hey, hey, sweetheart, you're okay," he says as he pressed a hand over yours to put more pressure on the wound, his heart breaking at the small sounds of pain you make. 

"She'll be okay, it's just a graze," Lemon insists, his voice shaky as if he's convincing himself.

Tangerine continues to stroke your hair, soothing you from any pain you could be experiencing. "It's my fault," his voice trembles, "I should have taken that bullet—darlin', why did you push me out of the way?" 

Your eyelids flutter and he can see you can't comprehend what he's telling you. 

You need a doctor. Now. 

* * *

When you wake, you're in a warm fluffy bed. You sit up, leaning your head against the headboard as your eyes adjust to the sunlight in the room. You startle when you feel a pair of calloused hands on your cheek, turning your head gently, and then you're staring into the prettiest blue eyes you've ever seen. 

"You're awake," his voice is husky and there is an inflection that indicates a lack of sleep. His brown hair is a mess and he looks unusually unkempt. He doesn't look like the man you know. He looks concerned—vulnerable.

"What happened?" you say, not recognizing the sound of your voice. You cough.

"Your uncle shot you—well—he tried to shoot me but you saved me, darlin'. You're my hero," Tangerine says and presses a quick kiss to your forehead. His lips linger longer than they should and you savor the feeling. "Only, next time you let me handle the bullet, ya understand me?"   

You smile and sit up again, touching your bandaged side. Tangerine pushes some hair away from your eyes and shushes you, "Shh, don't move too much," he reprimands sweetly.

"Who did this?" you ask, mentioning how well someone had patched you up. 

"Lem knows someone. He was careful with ya, I made sure of it." 

Your heart swells as you hide a smile. "You stayed?"

Tangerine caresses his knuckles down your cheek. "Course I stayed, luv. I wouldn't let some rando care for you all alone," he scrunches his nose and sniffs, "I don' know the bloke. Had to make sure you were safe, yeah?" 

You stare at him and it's as if all your worries melt into nothing. His touch is so gentle and you've never felt safer than by his side.

You know should have done something about your feelings a long long time ago, when everything was normal. When you had a job and everything was good and right. Now the only thing that feels good and right is his hand on your cheek. 

"I missed you," you say, meaning every word so much your heart might leap at him. 

Tangerine nods. "I missed ya too, darlin'."

You take a breath.

"Tan," you start, building up your courage, "I- I have something I want to tell you. I love you. I've loved you for years a-and I don't want to hide my feelings anymore. Not when I almost died."

Tangerine looks shell-shocked, his pupils blown wide as he takes in your words. You love him? He feels like he's in a dream and when he'll eventually wake up he'll puke all over himself from the butterflies in his stomach. 

"Don't think they were well hidden, sweetness," Lemon interrupts from the doorway. "Ya took a bullet for him. I only take bullets for people I really love." 

"Shut up," Tangerine hisses at his brother, "Go away."

Lemon raises his arms in surrender and adds. "Don't pretend like yours were well hidden either, bruv. This wanker talked about ya every day when you were in the slammer. Such a fuckin' chatter box all 'f sudden." Tangerine looks like he wants to chuck his shoe at Lemon but he restrains himself. When he looks at you, you're staring at him. 

"You talked about me?" you whisper, smiling. 

"All the time," Tangerine admits, his voice small. "I really missed you."

"He cried himself to sleep—"

"Alright, seriously, what the fuck are ya? A fuckin' parrot repeating everything I say and do? Get out," Tangerine snaps at Lemon and points to the door. Lemon makes talking animations with his hands and rolls his eyes at his brother before he finally leaves the room. 

"You talked about me?" you repeat, more teasing in your tone as Tangerine focuses on you again. 

He blushes. "I just told'ya I did," he says, embarrassed. He takes your hand and runs his thumb over your palm. "I couldn't stand knowing you were all alone in there—with a bunch of criminals—so I talked about ya because I couldn't talk to ya." 

"You could have—" you begin but Tangerine interrupts you with a shake of his head and a  squeeze of your hand. 

"Darlin', it was too dangerous'. Believe me if I could have, I would have. But, neither Lem or I wanted them coppers to know you were associated with criminals like us. If ya don't think we have a record, yer dead wrong," he chuckles darkly, "We're bad men, doll. Bad men. And you're such a good girl—so righteous and smart and a top agent—"

"Was a top agent," you huff and adjust your sitting position. "'M not anymore. I'm a released criminal now—plus, I just killed my uncle so that means I'm also a killer."

"Lemon killed your uncle," Tangerine says matter-of-factly. 

"I wanted him dead," you say, " and I'm happy that bastard is gone and more importantly, I'm glad I took this bullet for you because look, I'm fine and I would have rather I died than you because I—"

"I love you too," Tangerine finishes your sentence with such intensity, saving you from any more rambling. "I love you so damn much. Seeing you hurt almost killed me." 

He leans in and moves to kiss your forehead but you move your arms, ignoring the pain in your side as you do so, and tilt your head so his lips hit yours instead. Tangerine is surprised by your boldness and the feel of your lips on his but he melts into the kiss instantly. Gently, his arms wrap around your waist and he holds you close to him. 

You can feel every bit of love he has inside him pouring from his touch and lips. He's worshiping you as if he'd been born to do so and he kisses you more passionately. Once he disconnects his lips, he presses his forehead against yours. "Can we make a deal?" he whispers, his breath ragged and harsh. 

You nod, holding both of his cheeks in your hand. 

"From now on, neither one of us gets shot, okay?" Tangerine says with a hint of vulnerability. "Because my poor heart can't handle anymore of this, luv," he looks you over and finally kisses your forehead like he'd initially planned. 

"Okay, Tan, it's a deal."

[milksuu]

'Maid' in Heaven | Hiccup x Reader | Part 6

Pairings: Hiccup 'Horrendous’ Haddock III x fem!servant!reader

Chapter Content/Warnings: minor angst and fluff

Summary: After a hostile raid from The Hairy Hooligan Tribe, you were captured and forced into indentured servitude at a young age. Luckily, the God’s had blessed you to be the household thrall of the Haddock family; to serve your kind young Lord, Hiccup ‘Horrendous’ Haddock III. Oh Thor, what to do?

an: thank you for waiting! unfortunately, due to linking my ao3 on my master post, tumblr has hid all the linked parts before this + my masterlist (sad face). please click on the 'maid in heaven' tag for previous chapters, or view the pinned masterlist post on my blog. again, thank you to anyone whose taken the time to read, comment, like, and reblog! they make me so happy and motivated. any love is much appreciated.

There was a great discussion had within the Haddock residence later that evening. Supper was served at the single table, near to the crackling fire, and blazing with conversation about various topics. The first one attended to was the matter related to the unmissed trial of your questionable innocence. From the guilt that hung like a grey cloud above your head, Stoick sought to investigate the actual truth of the matter.

Hiccup spoke on your behalf. There were some truths, possible half-truths, and perhaps a frilly white lie in between. Whether Stoick believed the lipped wit of his son or not made no difference. The Chief’s admonishing response showed a mind already made. And the folk lesson long prevailed: it paid very little to argue with stone.

“I can’t have any more mishaps, regardless of whose fault,” Stoick said with a fistful of torn meat. “Our people are on edge, and for well enough reasons. And I’m not about to let one loose sheep, or another, cause further unrest. Do you both understand?” 

From your standing spot at the end of the table, a cinch of fault tightened your waistline. You bobbed your head and, with fingers coiled around the handle of a water pitcher, mouthed the word with a strained breath. Your attention crossed the table, catching your young Lord’s pinched features of rebellious reluctance. When your gaze met, you angled a chin and spoke through batted lashes for him to oblige. The request sent his eyes rolling backwards. Luckily, you didn’t need to pray for his life. To your relief, his father was too preoccupied with his plate to notice.

“Understood,” he said, and took a reproachful sip of his drink. You assumed he’d done so to keep him from taking back the word. 

“Good,” Stoick said with a satisfied grumble. “Tomorrow you’ll join me to pay a visit to the farmsteads. We’ll be needing a count of all the livestock and expected yield of crops before Winter. Consider the numbers for rationing. Always best to prepare for the worst.”

“Sure, doomsday prepping sounds like fun,” he said with a lop-sided pin of his lips. “But I was thinking, after we’re done counting with our fingers and toes, you’d talk with me and Gobber. We have some ideas to export new saddles.”

Stoick nodded and spoke in a tone of allowance rather than agreement. “Time will be made tomorrow, then.” 

The table quieted to small-talk, clinking tableware, and requests for another pour from your pitcher. When Stoick finished, he wiped his mouth clean with his fingers, and announced his retirement for the night. When the mass of his form disappeared beyond the aching stairs, you fetched yourself to attend the mess.

“Let me help you,” he said, taking a few hurried bites and tossing the cooked tail end of his fish to Toothless. He barely swallowed when he stood. “I just finished.”

“Although I’m grateful for your offer, I must decline you,” you said and seized his plate before he could. “You’ve done enough for me today, Lord Haddock. I’m sure the least I can do in return is my own job.” 

“I don’t think there should be a limit for helping anyone,” he said rationally, “unless you think I’m wrong?” 

“I think you’ll end up causing more trouble for yourself,” you punctuated your words with the lift of your nose. “Make no mistake. The road to Hel is paved with good-intentions. I don’t wish for you to end up there, of all people.”

He chuckled with a shake of his head. “Does that mean I’ll be in trouble with you?” 

“Not me.” You wiggled a finger in front of your nose. “But your father—no, worse yet—an entire village. I'm afraid your father's right. The scorn of a single man is enough to give courage to his like-minded neighbors.”

“If anything else happens, I’ll take care of it,” he said indulgently.

“That is exactly my point. I don’t want for something else to happen, and for you to have to do anything about it. You’ve worked too hard for your good reputation to be ruined. How could I ever sleep at night, knowing I should be the reason to have it questioned?”

“You like to worry more about my reputation than I do. At the end of the day, I just do what I think is right. Even if that means upsetting a few people who probably don't agree with me. Besides,” he fought to dismiss the quarrel with a boyish grin. “I’ve heard Hel has nice warm weather all year round. Wouldn’t mind paying a visit sometime. And who knows? Maybe I’ll be Chief there instead.”

“There you go again with your jests,” you muttered, digging your nails into the dish. “Ignoring every bit of my concerns for you. But what does what I think matter? I suppose it doesn’t. I’m only a servant, after all. Nothing about me deserves a second thought of consideration.”

“Come on, it’s not like that,” his eyes softened, cupping your tense hands.

The agonizing brush of his touch loosened your hold on the clay dish. It collided with the wood below, breaking into unmendable parts at your feet. You paled, bending to clean up your recklessness. Your Lord motioned to join and you thrusted a curt hand to stop him. “Don’t—” you choked on the shame. “Please, my Lord. This… this is all I have. If you respect me at all, then you’ll let me do it myself.”

“I’m sorry.” With pained regard, he placed a single broken chip in your palm and rose to take his leave. “I won’t bother you anymore.” 

He swept up the stairs, beckoning Toothless to follow. When the door of his bedchamber closed, you shut your eyes against a wave of remorse. Gods, you wished it would drown you. Perhaps then, the regret would no longer be tangible. You drew in a quivered breath, wishing to pick up more than the shattered fragments of a mere plate.

When morning came, you stood beside yourself, looking solemnly at the same dress and apron spread out on your cot. The same dull white smock, same plain brown kirtle, and the same serviceable apron. Stiff and ugly, you thought. All these same things punctuated how perfectly unpleasant you were on the inside. The display of your behavior the prior evening brought a taste of black licorice, which not even lye soap could rinse from your mouth. For your Lord’s sake, it would’ve served him to cut out your tongue with one of the sharper pieces of platter.

Even if deserved, there was never a sliver of imagination to conjure this—his kindness made no room for unbearable thoughts. 

  ⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

When the morning chores were completed without a word and, without complaint, you set off to the docks. With your new piece in tow, you trailed down the trodden path to a landscape filled with thatched roofs, until the hill steeped with long fisherman houses laden with crates of tackle and bait. 

“My, my, little miss! Seems fate and fortune have brought us to trade once again.” Johann raised his hands to indulge the sky, descending the boat ramp. “I take it you’re faring well, even after yesterday’s dire tribulations. Oh, you should have been there to witness it—Master Hiccup was positively vexed when he landed on my ship and requested for my immediate aid. Why, I had never seen him in such a state! Made me believe ‘twas a matter of life and death. Thank the stars it was not the latter of the two.”

This information did you no favors. It further troubled your features, tense and painted with dismal lines of fault. When strings of thankfulness for his help sprang from your lips, they resonated more as apologies. “I’m sorry—truly, I am. I hate to be more trouble than I’m worth.”

“Now, now, my dear. Let’s not sit idle in the past and wallow in it like a cold bath,” he dismissed it, beckoning you closer with his hands. “Let’s get on with business, shall we?”

“Of course.” You swallowed the hot lump in your throat, extending your tapestry.

“Absolutely remarkable,” Johann yammered on when he took the fabric. He twiddled with the coins in his hands before giving them to you. “This reminds me! Oh, you must listen to this. Whilst journeying from one trading dock to another, I came upon the most curious and wealthy buyer. So enraptured by your work, they were compelled for me to have a good word with you. They have offered quite an exuberant amount of coin for a commissioned piece, should you accept.”

“May I ask who this person is?” 

“The buyer has chosen to remain anonymous for the time being. I’m a respectable tradesman, and not inclined to give out customer details should it be personally requested of me not to do so. I assure you, I have a keen eye for scoundrels. This buyer is anything but.”

“It sounds like a gracious opportunity,” you trailed off, fiddling with the scant coins in your apron pocket. With someone of your luck, or rather misfortune, certain things were too good to be true. “May I think it over?”

“By all means,” Johann said. “We’ll remain in touch. I shall send a letter by mail tomorrow and eagerly wait for your response.”

A response would have to wait. Your mind wandered to the more pressing matters of keeping yourself in your young master’s good graces. How could you think of anything else when your conscience pricked at you insistently? There was only one remedy for this, and it was a whimsied gesture from childhood—surely, he would remember the meaning.

Picking up your feet, you scampered upward from the spindly dirt paths to pebbled roads. With allowance in hand, you passed through the open market, pinching your way to purchase the sweetest apple from a cart. You paid no mind to a flock of young women whispering curiously about you. The business of gossip would exist whether or not you gave credit to it. There wasn’t a need to give the webs spinning from their mouths any attention. You imagined being a curious fly was very tiresome. 

You came up to the Blacksmith, clanking with sounds of clashing metal, and pluming with smoke from the forge. From the open stall window, you rapped against the wood. When nothing but hammer to iron responded, you insisted with more egregious thumping. “Get outta the way, Grump!” A guttural curse or two struck the air. After a stumbling moment, Gobber’s rotund frame hobbled to view.

“Quit ye’r knockin’, I’ll be right there.” Gobber poked his eyebrows up at your small face peeking through the window. He cleared the indignation from his throat. “Sorry, lass. Didn’t expect ye’w of all people to stop by. What can I do for ya’h?” 

With a woeful face, you placed the apple on the counter. 

“The ol’ apology apple, eh?” He said with a scratch of his furrowed brow. “Can’t say I understand it myself, but the two of ye’w always had a way of managing. I’ll be sure ta’h give it to the lad when I see ‘em.” 

“Thank you ever so much.” You dipped your chin, turning to take leave.

“Hiccup’ll forgive ya’h,” he called out with sympathy. “Always does.”

Hope fluttered your heart, and you thanked the man twice over. 

Whisking back to the Haddock Residence, you took out your nerves in the form of extra sweeping and dusting. You did so until you were choking on the splinters raised from the floorboards. With your habit of carrying on with meaningless distractions, you hadn’t noticed the afternoon light spilling from the open window. You lamented on the time and hurried to simmer a pot of stew over the kindling hearth. 

A wind danced inside, grazing the back of your neck. A delicate reminder to shut the window before the cool of night waltzed in unannounced. 

You turned and spotted a sheen of red gleaming by sunset hue on the sill. When you went to greet it, you picked up the plump portion of a half eaten apple. You pressed a smile to the remaining flesh of it. Taking your own bite, you sighed against the burst of sweetness. The taste of licorice no longer soured your lips.

You leaned into the cheerful air, enriched with slopes of green and spiced with a dusky glow.  And as if the breeze could carry words, you spoke:

“I’m glad we’re still friends.” 

Reconciliation was a word you hadn’t thought of tasting so sweet.

[7grandmel]

Rips of the week: 09/09/2024

Float Islands (Kirby 64 Arrangement) and Aqua Star (Kirby Super Star Arrangement)

Season 3 Featured on: SiIvaGunner's Highest Quality Rips Volume A

Ripped by alan

Season 8 No Album Release (Read More) Aqua Star (Unused) - Kirby Super Star

Ripped by alan

Requested by Fezaki! (Request Form)

There are few things I love more on the SiIvaGunner channel than the phenomena I like to call "call & response" rips. These are, put simply, rips connected to one another through a sort of dialogue - an obvious example of this is with He4rt4che and 4SGOR3, two intertwined projects by the same ripper released right alongside one another. Yet these projects have also be used to, in effect, pay tribute to the works of other rippers on the channel: Shiny Smily TALE, for instance, saw Ellie53 pay respects to a rip made four whole years prior by Sarvéproductions. There's also one of my all-time personal favorites for silly sentimental reasons, Violet Snow Memories, which remakes and expands upon a relatively obscure rip made *SEVEN* years prior by a ripper who's no longer actively part of the team. Without having any knowledge of the behind-the-scenes behind their production, these rips end up feeling like true expressions of love between rippers, being creatively fulfilling projects in their own right whilst directing attention toward rips and rippers that they cherish.

Yet with the two rips featured today, Float Islands (Kirby 64 Arrangement) and Aqua Star (Kirby Super Star Arrangement), we run into a somewhat unique scenario, that I haven't personally seen all too often on the channel: a sort of combination of two of the example scenarios described. These two rips were both made by the same ripper, Alan, who's both a friend of the blog and has been contributing on and off for the channel since late into Season 1, still being active today eight years later in Season 8. And therein is what makes this pair of rips so interesting: Float Islands (Kirby 64 Arrangement) released all the way back in Season 3, while Aqua Star (Kirby Super Star Arrangement) came out just shy of three months ago back in June of Season 8 - yet are both playing off of the same core idea. Even six years after its release, the core idea of Float Islands (Kirby 64 Arrangement) seems to have stuck with the guy, and all this time later he finally decided to expand on the concept further, out of no other reason than his own personal investment in the concept. Six years of waiting, six years of experience gained - let's see where this all takes us.

The soundscape of Kirby 64: The Crystal Shards is one I've made no secret of my affection for, most notably with Aquadial just outright being an all-time favorite rip of mine, but even with more out-there bizarre projects like Kirby Joins the Circus!, they all manage to have an indescribable appeal that comes just from how beautiful Kirby 64 as a whole sounds. The channel and internet as a whole is filled with tributes paid to the game's soundtrack, yet Float Islands (Kirby 64 Arrangement) takes a direction similar to the previously covered Mt. Dedede (extended) - choosing to inject Kirby music, into other Kirby music. The Kirby franchise is itself already filled with homages paid to its legacy music, endlessly rearranging its past work, and so Float Islands (Kirby 64 Arrangement) fits in with the rest of the series' soundtracks like a glove. Float Islands in particular is a pretty crucial piece of music for the franchise, originating from the very first game in the series, being remixed in countless games, and most notably laying the groundwork for the franchise's beloved Rest Area theme, later arranged and reused for the Super Smash Bros. series and itself featured in beloved rips like Me and the rest area of the melee here, singing, "Where'd you go​?​". It's Jun Ishikawa's knack for catchy, soothing and high-tempo composition distilled into just one track - the kind of song that just SOUNDS like Kirby ought to sound, no matter what form it takes.

It should come as no surprise that Alan knocks the arrangement out of the park with Float Islands (Kirby 64 Arrangement) - Aqua Star, the track being used as the basis, already takes cues from Float Islands in certain snippets of its arrangement, and Alan is able to leverage that connection into a sound experience that sounds damn near effortlessly like an authentic Ishikawa arrangement. The lead instruments chosen follow along with Aqua Star very nicely, the brass sounds as authentically "Kirby 64" as always, the percussion is as lovely as Float Islands' arrangements always are - it's an incredibly solid rip, that even back in 2018 turned some heads with commenters denoting how surprising it was to see just outright wholesale remixes put onto SiIvaGunner. Of course, this was not something new - we've had rips like Turn On Your SEGA Genesis and Just Enjoy Yourself as far back as Season 1 - yet to see a ripper like Alan play along with Kirby series' tradition of celebrating past music so authentically was no doubt part of what made this rip stick out so much - many didn't even recognize that Float Islands wasn't originally in Kirby 64 and just thought the rip was an unedited reupload of music from the game!

Of course, this was nevertheless a rip from Season 3, six years ago - the channel was still somewhat undergoing growing pains, shedding the anything-goes wild west of Season 1 and gradually turning into something with a higher bar of quality. Despite my love for it, there are still some slight oddities present in Float Islands (Kirby 64 Arrangement), indications of its status as, ultimately, a hobby project for a shitpost channel. And that's why I find Aqua Star (Kirby Super Star Arrangement) to be such a cool release - it saw Alan return to this old rip idea, now within the context of SiIvaGunner in 2024, part of this team that's learned so much about ripping for so many different games, that continues to find new ways to impress with every passing month with everything from Last Freight-train Night to Thwâmpröck Desert. In my eyes, Aqua Star (Kirby Super Star Arrangement) is right at home here - instead of rearranging one of Kirby's oldest legacy songs into the soundscape almost impossible to make sound bad, the rip feels like a far more daunting task in doing the opposite, taking a song built upon that distinct soundscape and attempting to recreate it within the confines of a far older game, in Kirby Super Star for the Super Nintendo.

Yet Alan pulls this endeavor off with flying colors! The thing I immediately noticed, compared to Kirby Super Star's take on Float Islands, is the percussion: in Aqua Star (Kirby Super Star Arrangement), it sounds ever so slightly...dreamier, less heavy - perhaps that's my ears playing tricks on me, but I get the sense whilst listening that Alan put in a hell of a lot of effort to recapture the magically sparkly feel that Kirby 64's music so often holds. You hear this in the lead melody instruments used as well - the primary lead is the same beautiful one used as the lead in Super Star's Float Islands, yet it's occasionally swapped out for a less-used instrument from that same track, there only used for accenting the end of certain segments, but is used here for a wonderful back-and-fourth sound throughout the rip's runtime. On the whole, it's just a wonderfully tasteful, well-rounded arrangement without twists or surprises - a perfect response to the call placed back in 2018.

As I led this post off with, it's that back-and-fourth dynamic between rips that I found so utterly endearing about rips like these two. Yet the additional wrinkle that both works here were made by the SAME ripper gives it a distinctly different flavor, it goes from viewing two rippers pay each other loving respect to seeing one ripper grow in proficiency and ability over many years of honing their craft. As a result, while I find Float Islands (Kirby 64 Arrangement) to be an absolutely wonderful piece in its own right, it was Alan's work on Aqua Star (Kirby Super Star Arrangement) that enamored me - to see that progression of a ripper in such a direct, yet at once indirect, way, was an incredibly fascinating listening experience. Alan shows no sign in slowing down in his contributions to the channel, and with rips of this caliber, I can't wait to see what the future holds for the guy.

[yanderelovlies]

People can be childish. You know this, but you expected better of your coworkers. You had been nothing but kind to them. Always lending a hand or helping them with their work. You never talked badly about them, and you were nothing but polite. So why?

It all started a month ago. You were part of the film crew for The Sunny Time Crew. You enjoyed the work, and seeing the smiles on the kid's faces made it even better, but because you saw the actors all day every day, you started to admire the lead actor Joesph. He is handsome to boot and has major charisma skills, but to top it off, he worked amazingly with the kids when they visited the studio. To you, he was the whole package, and as much as you wanted to tell him how you felt, you knew he wasn't interested. He heard the conversations he and Jean would have. He didn't want to be tied down now that he had a life again. So you decided to keep it a secret tucked away.

Or so you thought anyway. Little did you know your coworkers had caught on and thought it was the funniest thing. It started with hushed whispers behind your back, to chuckles when they caught you staring till finally, they approached the actor himself with a proposition.

“How much to get you to fake date them.”

Joseph rose an eyebrow at them, a frown already on his features “Not enough to hurt someone like that.”

They gave an exaggerated sigh while rolling their eyes “Come oooon! It's practically a free check, and it will help you get that bike you've been saving up for~”

Joseph hated the song in their voice, but not as much as how right they were. It's not like he hasn't done something of this nature before, but he was trying to be better than that. On the other hand, however….he wanted that bike. There was no telling when someone would come snatch it before he did. He gets close to them, his voice barely above a whisper “Fine but I want the ALL of the case, and no longer than a month.”

The next day, to your surprise, Joseph asked you for a date. With a red face, you agreed, already looking forward to the weekend. The date went great. You felt like you got to know each other better, and you even felt a connection. He seemed to think the same thing since he asked for a second date. Then, a third. And by the fourth, he had asked you to be his partner. You felt over the moon the more time that had passed the happier you became. He was so sweet, always showering in compliments, always listening when spoke, and just treated you like someone special. You could see a future with him.

Meanwhile, Joseph was freaking out. The first few dates were what he knew he had to do, but as time went by, he found himself liking you. To the point where nothing was fake anymore but genuine. He even started to spend nights at your house because he missed you. The end of the month was approaching, and he hoped that maybe he could get his money and keep you. Unfortunately, the day he got the money, you ran into the two of them.

"Oh? What's going on?"

They smirked, putting a hand on their hip "Oh just paying him for a job."

You raised an eyebrow "a job? What job?"

"Why not ask him."

You turned to Joesph questiongly, who wore a pained expression. He knew this was it. He HAD to tell. "I was paid to…..date…you."

He watched as your brows furrowd as you looked down trying to understand what he had just told you. "w-what…?" Despite the you voice being a whisper, it still rang in Joseph's ears.

The other let out a taunting laugh as they stood beside Joesph "I paid him to date. Whew you should have see your face."

Joesph growled as he pushed them away from him "can you fuck off."

They looked at him baffled before glaring at him "oh don't act high and mighty now! This is something you're used to! Besidessss now you can get that bike you wanted!"

You look at the two horrified "so this was all….for money? …..you didn't actually like me?"

"I-"

The other person cut him off laughing, throwing their arm around the actor "of course not! You've heard the man doesn't want to be tied down! It was all a harmless little prank. If you really think about it's more like helping yo-"

Joseph pushed them off of him and onto the floor a glare focused on them. "That's enough out of you….so why don't fuck off like I said." The two glared at each other before the coworker got up grumbling and quickly left.

It was silent between you two before a sniffle from you broke the silence. "I thought you liked me….God…" you tried leaving not wanting to see him anymore, but was quickly stopped by a hand grabbing your wrist

"Let me explain…..please." you didn't face him, but you didn't pull away either so he continued "Yes it started off as something I'm getting paid for, but that's not what it was in the end." With his other hand he grabs your shoulder Turing you to face him. He hated how broken you looked. "I fell in love with you. I'll admit I wasn't sure of it myself at first, but the more I was around you the more I hated being alone." Using both hands he cups your face making you look at him. "I know I don't deserve to ask, but please…give me another chance."

"I don't know if I could ever be the same…I need time."

He nodded letting fo of your face "take all the time you need. I'll wait for you."

You stepped away from him before Turing your back on him. "we will see." You walk away still reeling from everything.

[thatsokayy]

dainsleif x reader (nsfw) | "why don't you come back to my place?"

A stranger that frequented the bar helps walk you home. He's pretty sexy, you can't deny that...

Tags: oral sex, drunk sex

4.2k words

ao3 link

The man was a newcomer to the bar, and you'd never even seen him in town before. He was dressed very strangely, wearing a mask on the right side of his face, the only feature visible on that side being his eye. He looked elegant, as if he was a descendant of a royal family. He had an air of sophistication to him, and he definitely wasn’t from the area, much less Mondstadt.

His gloved finger dragged along the rim of the shot glass before he picked it up and took a sip.

The stranger shot a glance at you, seeming to know that you were staring at him. Flustered, you grabbed the nearest cup and began to wash it. He definitely wasn't just a traveler. He had an eerie vibe to him so you avoided standing close when you served him, but you couldn't keep your eyes off of him. His light blonde hair was especially striking, catching your eyes every time you turned your head to survey the other customers.

The night went on, and the man had a few more glasses before he abruptly stood up and headed to the counter where you were.

You gave him a polite smile as you would to any customer, and he quietly asked for his check. His voice was deep and rich, and he seemed to prefer making eye contact when talking to someone, although it was hard to hold his sharp gaze.

You fetched him his check and he paid it, tipping you above average for how much he spent, then was gone as quickly as he arrived.

You couldn't lie that he was on your mind. He returned again the next week, ordering the same thing, solemnly approaching to pay the check. And the next week after that. You realized that you would stare at the door, awaiting his arrival at the usual times. One day, when you were bringing his personal favorite drink (at least you assumed it was because it was what he ordered the most), you stayed at his table for a bit longer.

"You've been coming here often,” you commented. "Are you a traveler? Or maybe you just moved here?"

He turned his head to look at you. His penetrative stare sent ghostly spiders crawling up the back of your neck. "I suppose you could say that," he replied after a silent pause.

"Well, no matter who you are, we appreciate your patronage." Usually the customers at the bar were more than willing to chat, especially with a few drinks in their system. This man, however, gave you a curt, short answer and you knew well enough that he wouldn’t entertain you much more. With a polite bow, you headed back to the counter and tried to watch him as discreetly as you could.

Your home was a bit of a trek from the city of Mondstadt, and by the time you left it was already dark. You weren't worried; not in the slightest. Nothing bad had happened to you before whenever you walked home from work. Slimes and hilichurl tribes were spotted in the area occasionally, but they only ever attacked if provoked.

The stars above you looked stunning, along with the moon shining brightly behind a gathering of clouds. You were busy looking up at the night sky when you heard a loud gust of wind blow behind you, and you wouldn’t have paid it any mind if the noise didn’t cause a primal twinge of fear to grow in your chest.

Turning on your heels, you watched as a group of creatures materialized behind you, their devious chuckles making your stomach sink.

You recollected that these were Abyss Mages, and although you never encountered them on your own, you knew they were incredibly dangerous for someone who couldn't fight or didn't possess a Vision. You recollected the tales that drunk adventurers rambled about of their fierce encounters with the creatures of the Abyss. What were they doing in the fields of Mondstadt… and why were there so many together?

You stepped back, watching their every move. A million thoughts and ideas rushed through your mind. Should you run? Can you even run? 

The mages laughed gleefully as they turned their wands in the air, and you were readying to run away when a tall figure seemed to materialize between you and the enemies. Without haste, he quickly eliminated them before you could even recognize who he was, the mages cries of defeat making you pity the poor things a bit. Your savior was ruthless, beating them so terribly that you were sure they’d never set foot (or teleport?) here again.

After he sheathed his sword, he turned to face you, keeping his distance. “Are you hurt?” He asked nonchalantly. 

"You're the strange guy from the bar," you realized, avoiding his question. Not intentionally, of course, but out of pure shock. Of course, you knew that he wasn’t an ordinary traveler, but he seemed to be crazy strong.

He walked towards you and grabbed your arm, turning it over and inspecting it, then checking the other.

You blushed and pulled away. “Hey, I’m fine! You got here just in time before anything happened. Thank you for saving me.”

He nodded in response. You rubbed your arms as he continued to look at you, not believing your reply regarding your well being. You turned to continue your journey home, raising your hand in the air to wave and calling back with one more expression of gratitude.

“Shall I walk you home?” You heard his voice call behind you.

You hesitated. Was it safe to trust this guy? Lead him right to your house where you lived alone and could barely defend yourself if he had terrible intentions? Or, were there more mages waiting for their enemy to leave you alone so they could pounce once more? “I’d appreciate it,” you said.

You two walked on opposite sides of the path. You tried to hide it, but you were jumping at every noise. That encounter had scared you a lot more than you thought. Something about those mages was much more frightening than a pack of hilichurls. The stranger noticed you turning your head to watch your surroundings and moved closer to assure you that you were safe.

“What’s your name?” You asked. Walking in silence was pretty awkward and you still had a bit of a way to go before you arrived at your house.

“Dainsleif,” he replied quickly. “And you?”

You mouthed his name to yourself. “I’m (y/n).”

Dainsleif nodded and kept quiet. He didn’t seem to be much of a conversationalist. You were curious about him, however. His long cape draped behind him as he walked, and he held himself as confident and gracefully as a prince. Who was he, exactly?

You stared at him for a moment before speaking up again. “Where have you been staying? I can tell you aren’t a resident of Mondstadt. Have you been staying at an inn?”

“I’ve been camping. I needn’t stay at an inn when I’ll only be in the city for a short while,” Dainsleif replied.

You scoffed. “You’ve been coming to the bar for almost a month now. I think at that point renting a place to stay would be suitable.”

He didn’t seem to react. “It’s hard to predict when my duty here will be finished.”

Soon enough, you arrived at your house. You unlocked the front door and turned to him once more to say goodbye. “Thank you, Dainsleif,” you said. “Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

“There’s no need,” he replied. “It was a part of my job.”

You knew that if you let him walk away without adequately returning the favor that you would lay awake in bed, the guilt eating at you. “You’ve probably been eating campfire meals, right? Come on, I can make you a big dinner. How does that sound?”

Dainsleif adjusted the glove on his left hand, debating your offer. “I suppose, if you insist.”

You quickly lit the fireplace and prepared the stove. Dainsleif stood awkwardly at the door, watching you walk back and forth through the kitchen as you gathered ingredients.

“You can sit down, you know. Kick off your shoes, take off your coat, relax on the couch. Make yourself at home,” you said.

He opted for sitting at the dining table, hanging his coat over the backrest of the chair. There was little to no conversation as you prepared dinner. Glancing over to him, you watched him look at you, stare at the decorations around the house, or twiddle his fingers as he waited patiently.

What an awkward guy! You remarked to yourself. It was almost alluring, though, and you questioned whether he was like this to everyone or only strangers.

You finished making dinner and doled some creamy soup into a bowl for him. After pouring some for yourself, you placed the bowls at the table. You sat on the other side from him, consciously trying to keep your legs close so you wouldn’t impose on his personal leg space under the table.

Dainsleif didn’t remove his gloves as he ate, which you found odd, but you didn’t want to impose or prod in case it was a touchy subject. You were curious about a few other things, however.

“So, what’s your job here that you mentioned? You said saving me before was a part of it?”

He sipped from his spoon and politely dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “Those Abyss mages… I’m sure you realize it’s strange for them to be in this area, yes?”

You nodded.

“I’ve been trying to track them down, and it seems they’ve been drawn to something in this region. It’s strange that they decided to attack you, however. I was watching from afar and I could tell you did nothing to instigate them,” he said.

“You were watching me, huh?” You teased.

He looked down at his bowl and began to eat once more, ignoring your remark. Once he finished, he sat back in his chair, letting out a deep sigh.

“Want some more? There’s plenty left over.”

He met your gaze, an appreciative look in his eyes. “Yes, thank you.”

Dainsleif ate the second bowl as fast as the first, and you offered to get him another one but he politely declined. You made a note to offer him some to take with him when he decided to leave.

Not wanting to overstay his welcome, you assumed, he stood up and grabbed his coat. “I really appreciate the food and hospitality,” he said.

“No problem at all!” You replied. “I only wanted to return the favor for saving me. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.”

He gave you a small nod and began to put on his coat.

“Um, listen…” You said. “You can stay the night, if you’d like. I have a spare room with a nice bed and everything. I don’t want you to have to sleep out in the cold. If you’re worried about pushing boundaries, don’t be. I’m more than happy to provide you with anything you need.”

He opened his mouth and you could tell he was going to decline, but he pondered on the offer. “Well…” He rubbed his chin. He looked up at you once more, as if to see if he could find any hint of obligation on your face, but he knew you meant the offer wholeheartedly. “If it really isn’t a bother. Thank you.”

He sat on the couch this time, although he sat stiffly. You almost felt like you pressured him into staying, but it was more likely that he was just hesitant about being offered things, one of those kinds of people. You opened a bottle of wine, figuring it was too early for either of you to head to bed. Maybe some alcohol would lighten the mood.

You sat beside him, giving him enough room so that it wasn’t too awkward. He swirled the drink around the glass before sipping it, giving you a nod as thanks.

The conversation didn’t get too deep, but questions were shot back and forth at each other, you prompting them more often than him.

“Where are you from?” You asked.

“Somewhere that you definitely would not have known about unless you’re a scholar, let’s just say… and you?”

“Always been here in Mondstadt … How old are you?”

“I can’t answer most of these as a normal person would. What about you?”

“Old enough.”

Dainsleif was very, very strange. He didn’t seem to like revealing anything about himself, but when he did it made no sense at all or was too vague to even get an inkling of what he was even saying.

The more glasses you poured, the more you realized you were staring. The details of his outfit were beautiful, surely very expensive. His cologne was dignified and pleasant to smell, much unlike other men who often doused themselves. He had captivating features, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he wore the mask while still showing his right eye.

He seemed to be feeling the effects of the drinks too. His posture was much more relaxed, a pinkish tint adorning his face. You noticed you were sitting much closer to him than before.

The side of his hand pressed against your thigh, and you suddenly remembered the daydreams you would have about him as you were on shift, like a child thinking about their crush that they had never once spoken to.

“You seem to love to stare. Do you do that with all your customers at the bar?”

You felt your face heat up and turned away, pretending there was something very interesting on the bare wall. “It’s not everyday that such a strange man like yourself walks in.”

“Strange? You think I’m strange?” His hand moved to hold onto your knee, and you leaned closer against his arm.

“Normal Mondstadt people don’t wear a mask to the bar, or a big gaudy cape,” you said. Your plan to encourage conversation with wine seemed to work, but it was taking a much flirtier turn than you expected. It wasn’t like you were opposed to this scenario though…

“Ah, you think I’m gaudy too?” He squeezed your knee and a warm spark traveled through your arms and up your back. He chuckled, his deep voice making your heart skip.

“I like it, though.” You wrapped your arm around his bicep. “It’s very eye-catching… A nice change of pace compared to the usual customers I see.”

Dainsleif slowly began to drag his hand up your thigh as he finished off his glass. You leaned in closer to him, encouraging his touch. Everything felt warm, with the alcohol in your system, the heat of the fireplace, and his large hand squeezing at your flesh.

The next moments were a haze; his gloved hand was suddenly under your chin, gentle kisses lining your lips and the corners of your mouth.

Your hand traced his collarbone and neck; your fingers following the thick, dark blue veined pattern raised from his skin.

You slowly pulled away from him, interrupting his string of kisses. He let out a huff, the smell of rich wine on his breath. Sliding off of the couch, you balanced on your knees in front of him, resting your head on his lap and hooking a finger through his belt loop playfully.

He looked down at you with a small smile, eyes half closed. “Where was this confidence when we were walking home earlier, hm?”

“I would say that these are entirely different situations,” you slurred. Dainsleif placed a hand over yours and led your hand to rest on his thigh while he undid his belt. He placed it to the side and began to work the zipper of his pants.

He adjusted his position so that his pants were lower on his hips. It was so, so tempting to go at it right away as you gazed at his growing erection under his briefs. You decided that teasing such a stony-faced man and watching his reaction shift to that of one trying to hold back his expressions (and failing to do so) would be much more satisfying.

You brought a hand to his clothed cock, tracing the outline with your fingers, feeling the bulge grow with each touch. Dainsleif let out a sigh, placing his hand on your head and beginning to stroke your hair.

Time seemed to be so, so slow, and you wondered if he was feeling the same way. He didn’t seem to be hurrying you. That is, until he brought his hand to your cheek and lifted your head to make eye contact with him.

“Now, if you’re going to go this slow I’ll have to take matters into my own hands,” he mumbled. His words sent a rush to your groin and you squeezed your legs tight as a reflex. Would it be so bad if he took the reins?

You fingered at the waistband of his underwear and he lifted his hips so you could lower it. His cock, although not fully hard yet, twitched in anticipation as you let out a shaky breath and brought your mouth closer. Your fingers clasped around the shaft and you pumped a few times, looking up at him to gauge his reaction. Just as serious as ever, but the corners of his mouth were upturned in a curt smile.

You wet your lips with your tongue and slowly kissed the tip before bringing it past your lips and dragging your tongue along it. You could feel it thicken in your hand as he let out a deep sigh above you. His fingers ran through your hair, encouraging you to keep going.

Focusing the tip, you felt your saliva pool on your tongue as you took him further in your mouth with a moan. You took your time, sucking gently and slowly as you lowered your head down. Before you bottomed out, you took it out of your mouth with a pop and held it against your cheek, looking up at him once more, craving some kind of verbal response from him.

Even better, however, was that he tightened his fingers around the clump of your hair in his grasp. You let out a harsh breath, moving your thumb to gently press against his balls and bringing his cock back into your mouth. Despite the warning tugging at your scalp, you once again went down with a slow pace, taking in his musky taste and feeling his skin twitch against your tongue.

Dainsleif clicked his tongue above you and began to exert pressure on your head, pushing you down his shaft. Your stomach reflexed as his tip nudged the back of your throat. You could feel a warm heat gather at your crotch, twitching at how rough he was with you, his actions demanding you to get at it already.

Pumping at his cock with your hand as you pulled your head back, you increased your pace, feeling the outline of a vein brushing against your tongue. His hand on the back of your head guided your movements, pushing you down onto his dick until it jabbed your throat and the pulling of your hair bringing your lips to his tip again.

Sticky precum settled at the roof of your mouth and back of your tongue, but you had no chance to swallow with the pace he settled on. Your lungs fluttered as they took quick breaths, your legs getting shaky and barely able to hold yourself up as you fought against your gag reflex.

Sighs of satisfaction came from Dainsleif, and you moved your hand to grasp his pant leg as he began to move his hips to match his rhythm. You could feel tears gather at your eyes as he fucked into your mouth and your nose began to run, but the thought of him using you like this to get himself off turned you on beyond imagination.

An especially rough thrust forced a groan from you and he pulled you up, a line of drool trailing from his cock and your tongue. You took deep breaths as he finally gave you a chance to and his hand moved to cupped your cheek.

“Please tell me if I’m being rough with you, alright?” He reassured.

You simply nodded. It hurt, and you could already feel how bruised your throat was from his thrusting every time you swallowed, but just having him fuck up into your mouth and hold you in place made your groin ache with need for release. You brought a hand into your pants to palm yourself, rubbing at your sensitive point and leaning in close to Dainsleif’s cock once more.

While you touched yourself with one hand, the other moved to wrap around his shaft again and you went back down onto his dick, going at a faster pace than you initiated before. You and your throat were much more accustomed to his length, especially since he wasn’t forcing you down onto it as rough as before.

“Perfect. You’re so good, doing so good (y/n),” he praised, his sentence ending with a large huff. You felt yourself get even closer to finishing just from his encouraging words. Glancing up at him for a moment, you noticed him biting his bottom lip and he watched you obediently suck him off.

Matching the speed of your own hand working yourself to an orgasm to the bobbing of your head, you felt your thighs strain and tense as you quickly approached it. After a particularly deep thrust, you came all over your hand and a heavy moan forced the air out of your lungs.

The vibration of your vocal orgasm caused Dainsleif to groan, louder than any of the noises he had previously made. You felt his cock twitch against your tongue and his fingers tightened in your hair as he pushed you down his shaft, your nose brushing against the trail of hair on his front.

The hot wave of cum coated your tongue, the bitter taste causing you to reflexively swallow. Dainsleif held your head in place as he released his load into you, then slowly guided you off of his cock. A mixture of spit and cum dribbled down your chin, and you unceremoniously wiped it off with your forearm.

When you finally sat down on the carpet in front of him, you realized how sore your legs felt. You took deep breaths, eyes barely open. You sniffled, the tearing up from gagging causing your nose to get stuffy. Your mouth and throat felt sticky with the remnants of cum.

“Damn,” he muttered. “Who would’ve thought this is how we would end up tonight?” Once Dainsleif caught his breath, he pulled up his pants and moved to sit at the edge of the couch. He cupped your chin and titled it so you’d look into his eyes.

“Let me get you cleaned up, alright?”

The two of you entered the shower. You were exhausted, leaning into his body as he carefully brought a washcloth to your groin to wash off your own cum, then lathering up his hands with soap to clean off your chin and wherever else your spit managed to drip onto.

With gentle touches that contrasted the rough grasps he gave you before, he ran the soap through your hair, washing it and massaging your scalp.

You were almost too tired and too drunk to realize, but he had removed his mask and gloves. The veinlike patterns that trailed his neck reached up to his cheek, branching out and fading at the tips. His hands had the same marking, except much more abundant. You stared at them; you had never seen anything like it before. You wondered where he got them from, but you knew that if you asked he would provide no clear answer.

He led you to your bed, then gathered both yours and his clothing. You offered to show him how to start the washing machine but he waved you off. “It’s alright. I can manage,” he replied. “You get warmed up under the covers.”

While you awaited his return, you felt yourself falling asleep. You could fight it no longer, and only woke up partially as you felt Dainsleif slip under the blanket with you and wrap his arms around you.

The morning sunlight shone through your window, and you brought your hands up to shield your eyes and rub the sleep out of them. Rolling over to face the other way, you suddenly remembered what occurred last night, realizing that your guest wasn’t in the bed with you.

Groaning, you got up from the bed, using a blanket to cover yourself. “Dainsleif?” You called as you looked outside of your bedroom towards the dining room. You saw a piece of paper lying on the table and walked over to see what it was.

Slanted handwriting lined the paper, and you sighed after reading it.

“Thank you for the meal and bed, (y/n). I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again soon. I’ll be awaiting our reunion. I hope you enjoy your breakfast.”

He signed it off with an elegant signature, very fitting for his personality.

On the counter top, you noticed he had left you some ripe sunsettias.

Who knew when the mysterious Dainsleif would return to you?