#and your power eagerly supplies “no”

[evil-no-good-overlord-jojo]

do you guys ever think abt what it means that Contessa shoots twice at the end of Worm.

do you guys ever think its because the first shot was fired without the use of her power.

[dark-and-kawaii]

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆ — Summary: Geto thought you looked so pretty gagging on his cock the other day, but how do you look with those fingers of his deep down your throat? He can’t help but to find out.

You fight the urge to gag as Geto forces two of his fingers into your mouth, your body restrained, your arms pulled tightly behind your head. With each squirm, he thrusts those coarse fingers deeper into your mouth, grazing the back of your throat with the tips of his nails.

“You can do better than that,” he says, the sound of his voice making your body shiver. His fingers are completely wet with your saliva, and it's becoming increasingly difficult for you to breathe. You feel Geto's thumb brush against the side of your cheek, wiping away the tears that have fallen.

“Come, let's see how well you choke on my fingers, my love,” Geto says. You can barely hear him over the sound of your heart beating, but the tone in his voice is all too familiar. He's enjoying this, and he's enjoying making you suffer, “You were so skilled at taking my cock down your throat last night; I wonder if you'll handle my fingers just as eagerly in that tight little mouth of yours.”

Geto's fingers are now firmly pressed against the back of your tongue, his nails digging into the sensitive flesh. Your throat closes, a gag escaping, as the tip of his nail scratches the surface. The tang of his skin brings fresh tears to your eyes, a blend of shame and lust coursing through you as he forcefully drives his fingers in as far as they'll go. You instinctively start to retch, the urge to vomit bubbling up inside you, your body screaming to crawl away and flee, but you don’t disappoint him, not after what he did for you the night before.

You want to give him anything, everything, you want him to feel even a fraction of what he gave to you the night before, and it's that desire alone that forces you to swallow his fingers. Geto groans in pleasure, a smile spreading across his face as he sees you do as he asked.

“That's it, that’s my good girl.” Geto purrs.

You endure it all, you endure for him, because it's what he craves. So you continue to gag around Geto's fingers, your tongue swirling and caressing around them. His breath catches as you gag once more, his other hand snaking up to grip your throat, constricting your air supply. Drool and mucus dribble down your face, a wetness pooling between your legs, your heart pounding a frantic beat in your chest as you struggle for breath... yet your tongue still dances around his fingers, your mouth sucking, your throat clenching, suckling like the obedient whore you are as he holds you in place.

He was right… you're even more beautiful like this, your cheeks flushed a deep red, fat tears glistening at the edges of your eyes. You appear so vulnerable, and it fuels Geto's sense of dominance, of power…

As if he were your god in control now.

[aeralux]

"My Queen" - Rhaenyra Targaryen

Summary: House Tully has pledged allegiance to The Blacks in support of Queen Rhaenyra. You, Lord Tully's daughter, happen to be the one to deliver an urgent message from your father regarding the upcoming war. The Queen is very appreciative of your support and she intends to show it.

Warnings: SMUT; reader is a Tully but no descriptive language is used (f! reader); power kink; queen kink; LESBIAN SEX; fingering, oral; praise kink (sweet girl is used quite a bit); talks about war (nothing graphic or sad happens)

Word count: 6.2k

-- aera xx

The grand observatory at Dragonstone was a sanctuary of wonder, its high, vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate carvings of stars, constellations, and Targaryen lore. Massive telescopes lined the walls, alongside shelves filled with celestial charts, journals, and sketches. The soft twilight glow poured through the large windows, casting a radiant light that flickered across polished wooden floors and illuminated the drifting motes of dust in the air. The scent of aged paper and polished brass filled the room, a comforting aroma for those passionate about the mysteries of the universe.

Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen stood by a large circular table in the centre of the observatory, an elaborate scroll detailing the movements of the stars unfurled before her. Clad in a flowing gown of deep red and black, the colours of House Targaryen, it was embroidered with delicate designs that twinkled like the night sky. Her silver hair, a distinctive mark of her bloodline, cascaded elegantly over her shoulders, accentuated by a shimmering tiara that reflected the dim light.

Rhaenyra's violet eyes scanned the ancient scroll eagerly, absorbing the knowledge within. The footsteps resonated through the observatory, drawing her attention as the heavy wooden doors creaked open.

A guard entered, accompanied by you. The guard cleared his throat and announced, "Your Grace, you have a visitor." Rhaenyra carefully rolled up the scroll and turned to the guard, offering a gracious smile and a nod.

"Thank you. You may leave us," she replied, her voice gentle yet commanding, resonating with the authority of a queen. The guard bowed and exited, leaving you in the celestial chamber. Rhaenyra regarded you for a moment, her expression warm and curious. "What brings you to my observatory? Would you care for a cup of wine?" she inquired, her smile inviting while her keen gaze revealed her sharp intellect and royal demeanour. A sense of warmth enveloped her, almost maternal, as Rhaenyra glanced down fleetingly to admire the intricate details of the table’s carvings.

"My Queen," you proclaimed devotedly, lowering yourself in a respectful bow before her, fully aware of the majestic aura that surrounded the beautiful Targaryen woman. Her silver hair shimmered like moonlight, and her piercing violet eyes seemed to hold the weight of the realm within them. 

"I have travelled from Riverrun with pressing news. A raven has been sent, bearing tidings from my family. They have informed me that House Tully is prepared to lend their support. They will muster an impressive force of 15,000 men and ensure that our cavalry is well-supplied with provisions for the challenging days ahead. While it is true that we may lack substantial military strength in comparison to other houses, our lands are remarkably fertile and bountiful, capable of sustaining our efforts."

You straightened, standing with poise, allowing the gravity of your words to settle in the air.

Rhaenyra listened intently as you delivered the news, her violet eyes focused and attentive. The Queen nodded slowly, processing the information with her characteristic sharp intellect. "15,000 men and cavalry supplies, that's a substantial contribution," she mused, her voice soft yet carrying an underlying tone of authority. "House Tully's support will be invaluable in the trials ahead."

She rose from her seat, the rich fabric of her gown swishing as she moved. Rhaenyra approached you, her steps measured and graceful, the click of her heels against the stone floor echoing in the spacious library. As she drew near, Rhaenyra reached out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. Her touch was warm, conveying a sense of gratitude and comradery.

"Your family's loyalty and dedication to the cause are truly appreciated," Rhaenyra said, her violet eyes meeting yours."In these tumultuous times, every ally counts, and House Tully stands strong among them."

Rhaenyra's gaze shifted to the window, where the sun's rays danced upon the distant waters of Blackwater Bay. A pensive expression crossed her face, a flicker of concern in her eyes. "The road ahead will be fraught with challenges," she admitted, her voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. "But with the support of houses like yours, we shall weather the storm."

Turning back to you, Rhaenyra offered a reassuring smile, her demeanour regal yet approachable. "I am grateful for your presence here. Your words have brought me comfort and renewed determination." She gestured towards a plush velvet armchair nearby, inviting you to sit. "Please, join me. I would hear more of your thoughts and any other news from the Riverlands."

As you took a seat, Rhaenyra poured two goblets of rich, red wine from a decanter on the table. She handed one to her guest, raising her own in a toast. "To the strength of our alliance and the triumph of justice."

You couldn't help the crimson blush that warmed your cheeks as you sat beside her, the epitome of grace and authority. Her presence was commanding and enchanting, filling the air with an intoxicating blend of confidence and charm. With an air of elegance, she extended the goblet of wine towards you, and as you accepted it, your fingers brushed against hers—an electric spark igniting between you, sending a shiver down your spine at the touch of her velvety skin.

It felt almost foolish to be so affected by something seemingly insignificant, yet the moment held a weight that surpassed mere physical contact. You stole a glance at her, the delicate way she held herself, and the glint of mischief in her eyes, making your heart race.

"Thank you, my Queen," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as if speaking louder would break the spell that enveloped you. You lifted the goblet to your lips, allowing the deep, luscious nectar to roll over your tongue. With your eyes closed in reverie, you savoured the rich taste of the wine, feeling its warmth spreading through you, reminiscent of the warmth emanating from her very presence. It was a moment suspended in time, a blend of indulgence, admiration, and undeniable attraction that left you yearning for more.

Rhaenyra observed the faint blush that coloured your cheeks, a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips. She could sense the effect her presence had on the young woman, and while a part of her revelled in the power she held, another part felt a twinge of sympathy. The burdens of leadership are not for the faint of heart, she mused silently, her violet eyes studying you with a mix of curiosity and understanding.

As their hands brushed during the exchange of the goblet, Rhaenyra felt the brief contact send a subtle jolt through her body. She quickly composed herself, maintaining her regal bearing, but the fleeting sensation lingered in her mind. Focus, Rhaenyra, she chided herself, pushing the thought aside to concentrate on the matter at hand.

"The wine is from the vineyards of Highgarden," Rhaenyra remarked, taking a sip from her goblet. The rich, robust flavour danced on her tongue, a pleasant contrast to the weighty matters they discussed. "Lord Tyrell was kind enough to share it as a gesture of goodwill." She paused, a flicker of irony crossing her features. "Though I suspect it was more a ploy to curry favour than a genuine act of friendship."

As she took a sip from her goblet, Rhaenyra's violet eyes never left your face, studying the younger woman with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue. "You seem... flustered," she observed, her voice a low, melodious purr. "Is something troubling you?"

Rhaenyra leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on the table, her chin propped on her interlaced fingers. The gesture was casual, almost intimate, a stark contrast to her usual regal demeanour. Her silver hair fell in soft waves around her face, catching the light and shimmering like starlight.

Caught off guard by her question, your lips parted in surprise. "No, my Queen, just the war... it seems to be taking its toll on me as well," you muttered, trying to convince yourself as much as her. It would be utterly improper to admit that her touch had sent a chill running along your back, leaving you flustered.

You took another sip of wine, hoping to compose yourself. The rich, velvety liquid slid down your throat, but it did little to calm the sudden racing of your heart. You met Rhaenyra's piercing violet gaze, her eyes seeming to see right through you, to the core of your being. A faint blush still lingered on your cheeks, betraying your inner flusteredness.

You cleared your throat, determined to regain your composure. "My family's support is unwavering, my Queen. We stand with you, now and always," you declared, your voice steady despite the confusion within. You would not let your foolish infatuation cloud your judgment or dishonour your house. You were a Tully, and you would remain strong, even in the presence of such an attractive and assertive woman.

Rhaenyra's violet eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze intense and searching as she studied your face. She could sense the younger woman's discomfort, the soft blush that coloured her cheeks, the way her fingers trembled ever so slightly around the stem of the goblet. It was a reaction Rhaenyra knew all too well, a mix of nerves and attraction, a dance of desire and propriety.

She leaned back in her chair, her posture relaxed yet queenly, a small, enigmatic smile playing at the corners of her lips."The war weighs heavily on us all," she said, her voice soft, almost a whisper, as if sharing a secret. "But we must not let it consume us, lest we lose sight of what we fight for."

Rhaenyra's gaze drifted to the window, where the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The light danced across her face, highlighting the strong lines of her jaw, and the delicate curve of her cheekbones. She turned back to you, her eyes gleaming with a newfound intensity.

"Tell me," she began, her voice low and husky, "what is it that you truly desire? Beyond the battlefield, beyond the politics and the power plays, what sets your heart ablaze?" Rhaenyra's question hung in the air, a challenge and an invitation all at once, her violet eyes locked with yours, a silent understanding passing between them.

You offered a soft smile, your gaze dropping to your lap for a moment as you sought to compose your swirling emotions. The air around you felt heavy with unspoken words, and finally, you broke the silence. "Love," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "isn't that what most people are truly searching for? A tender heart to hold in their arms and someone to care for deeply."

As you spoke, a wistful melancholy settled over you, like a raindrop trailing down a windowpane. The thought of an impending war loomed like a dark cloud, threatening to overshadow the dreams of connection and intimacy that manylong for. It seemed cruel, how the spectre of conflict kept souls apart, hindering the chance to find a kindred spirit in the chaos.

"But I understand," you continued, a gentle resolve in your voice, "that this must wait for now." You shifted your gaze back to the Queen, and in that moment, time seemed to pause. Her piercing eyes captivated you, drawing you in with an intensity that took your breath away. You felt as if you were lost in a vast ocean, with her gaze as the only guiding star.

Amid the uncertainty, the warmth of her presence ignited a flicker of hope within you—an unspoken promise that despite the world's turmoil, love still existed, waiting patiently beneath the surface. The corners of your lips curled into a smile, and in that fleeting moment, it felt as though the two of you were the only ones in existence, united by the fragile thread of yearning that bound your hearts together.

Rhaenyra felt a surge of emotion at your words, a mix of empathy and a deep, aching understanding. She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table, her chin propped on her interlaced fingers. Her violet eyes softened, a vulnerability creeping into their depths.

"Love," she echoed, her voice a mere whisper, "is indeed a force that transcends all others. It is the flame that guides us through the darkest of nights, the anchor that keeps us tethered to hope in the face of unconquerable odds."

Rhaenyra's gaze drifted to the window, where the last rays of sunlight painted the sky in a kaleidoscope of colours. A wistful sigh escaped her lips, a longing for a life unburdened by the weight of the crown, a life where she could simply be Rhaenyra, not the heir to the Iron Throne.

She turned back to you, her eyes locking with yours. At that moment, a silent understanding passed between them, a recognition of the unspoken desire that simmered beneath the surface. Rhaenyra's heart raced, a flutter of anticipation and trepidation.

"Perhaps," she began, her voice low and husky, "amid this chaos, we can find comfort in each other's company. A brief pause from the duties we bear."

Rhaenyra reached out, her hand hovering inches from yours, a silent invitation. Her violet eyes shimmered with a mix of longing and uncertainty, a question hanging in the air between them. "What say you? What do you say we embrace this moment and see where it takes us?"

The observatory seemed to fade away, the telescopes and maps forgotten, the weight of the world temporarily lifted. In that instant, it was just Rhaenyra and you, two souls lured together by a force greater than themselves, a bond thattranscended the boundaries of refinement and duty.

You couldn’t help but gasp quietly upon hearing her words, the air around you thick with unspoken emotions. The verynotion that Rhaenyra might harbour the same hunger for you that has ignited a fire within your heart is nothing short of intoxicating. 

As you lean closer, the warmth radiating from her draws you in, and your faces hover mere inches apart, the world around you fading into a dim haze. Her presence is both overwhelming and alluring as if a delicate crown of stars rests upon her head.

With your heart pounding in your chest, you muster the courage to break the silence that envelops you. “May I kiss you, my Queen?” you ask, your voice a whisper tinged with reverence. Your eyes flit between her mesmerizing gaze and the temptation of her soft lips, each second stretching as you await her response. The moment feels charged with lust.

Rhaenyra's breath hitched in her throat, her eyes widening at Selira your bold question. The air between them crackled with an electric tension, a palpable energy that seemed to pulse and throb with each passing second.

For a fleeting moment, Rhaenyra hesitated, the weight of her obligations and commitments threatening to crush the fragile ember of passion that had ignited within her. But as she gazed into your eyes, she saw a reflection of her longing, a mirror of the ache that had taken root in her heart.

"Yes," she breathed, her voice a husky whisper, barely audible above the pounding of her own heart. "Kiss me."

Rhaenyra leaned in, closing the scant distance between them. Her lips met yours in a searing kiss, a burst of passion and need that threatened to consume them both. She tasted red wine and desire on your tongue, a heady combination that set Rhaenyra's senses ablaze.

Her hands came up to tangle in your hair, the soft strands slipping through her fingers like silk. She deepened the kiss, her tongue tracing the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, craving more.

The world fell away, everything fading into oblivion, the weight of the crown and the burden of the throne momentarily forgotten. At that moment, Rhaenyra was simply a woman, lost in the passion, consumed by a desire she had long denied herself.

Her body pressed against yours, the heat of their shared need burning through the fabric of their clothes. She could feel the rapid beat of your heart, the quickening of your breath, the tremble of your limbs. It was intoxicating, the knowledge that she could elicit such a response, that she could make you burn with the same fire that consumed her.

Rhaenyra's hands roamed over your body, mapping the curves and planes of your form, committing every inch to memory. She wanted to devour you, to consume you.

You moaned into the kiss, Rhaenyra's intoxicating taste sending waves of desire coursing through your veins. Your fingers tangled in her silvery hair, anchoring yourself as the intense sensations threatened to overwhelm you. 

Pleasure pooled between your thighs, your core aching and pulsing with need. You wanted more, no, you needed more of her touch, her kiss, her everything. The ache inside you grew, a desperate hunger that demanded to be sated.

Rhaenyra groaned into the kiss, her body responding to your touch like a bowstring pulled taut. She could feel the heat pooling between her thighs, a throbbing ache that demanded attention. Her hands roamed over your body, slipping beneath the fabric of your dress, seeking the warmth of your skin.

"Gods" she panted, her voice ragged with desire. "I need you. I want you. Don't make me wait any longer."

Rhaenyra's hands found the laces of your bodice, tugging at them impatiently. She needed to feel your skin, to taste you, to consume you. With a swift motion, she tore the laces free, exposing your breasts to her hungry gaze.

She leaned in, capturing one pert nipple between her lips, sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh. Her hand cupped your other breast, kneading and massaging the soft mound. She could feel your heart racing, the frantic beat matching her own.

Rhaenyra's other hand slid down your body, over the curve of your hip, the soft plane of your stomach, until it reached the hem of your skirts. She pushed the fabric aside, her fingers delving beneath to find the slick heat of your core.

She groaned at the feel of you, hot and wet and ready for her touch. Rhaenyra circled your clit with her thumb, revelling in the way your body jerked and twitched at the contact. She slipped two fingers inside you, thrusting deep, relishing the way your walls clenched around her digits.

"That's it," Rhaenyra purred, her voice low and husky with desire. "Let yourself feel. Let me make you come undone."

She pumped her fingers in and out, curling them to hit that special spot deep within. Her thumb continued its maddening circle on your swollen clit, the dual stimulation driving you wild with need.

Rhaenyra could feel her arousal building, a pulsing ache between her legs, her core throbbing with want. She ground her hips against the plush divan, seeking friction for her aching wet cunt.

"Oh, my sweet girl," Rhaenyra cooed, her voice a sultry purr as she worked her fingers deeper, harder, faster. "You beg so prettily for me. I can't deny you what you crave."

She twisted her wrist, curling her fingers just so, seeking that sweet spot within your quivering walls. Your pleas for release only spurred Rhaenyra on.

"Cum for me," Rhaenyra commanded, her eyes blazing with intensity. "Let go. Cum all over your Queen's fingers."

And so you did. With a final thrust of her fingers, your body trembling from the intensity of your climax.

Rhaenyra held her close, her arousal building to a fever pitch as she felt your walls clench around her fingers, the wetness of your release coating Rhaenyra's hand.

"That's it, fuck, that's a good girl," Rhaenyra praised you as you rode out your orgasm on her fingers. The tears streaming down your face seemed to turn her on even more.

As your orgasm subsided, Rhaenyra slowly withdrew her fingers, bringing them to her lips and licking them clean. The taste of your sticky essence on her tongue was intoxicating, a heady mix of salt and sweetness that made Rhaenyra's head swim with desire.

"Delicious," Rhaenyra purred, her voice low and seductive. "I could feast on you for hours and never grow tired."

You gasped as you saw Rhaenyra lick her fingers clean of your release. Your pussy still gushing onto the divan, possibly ruining the fabric, but neither of you cared.

You felt a surge of desire to return the pleasure Rhaenyra had just given you. Rising to your feet, you let your dress slip from your body to the floor, baring your naked form to her hungry gaze. A thrill ran through you at the vulnerability of standing exposed before her.

"I want to make my Queen feel good," you purred your words affectionately as you lowered yourself onto your knees in front of her. Gently, you spread her legs, lifting her skirts to reveal her glistening sex.

Your breath caught at the sight of her wet, red folds. You licked your lips, eager to taste her essence.

Rhaenyra's breath hitched as she watched you kneel before her, the younger woman's nude form a vision of beauty in the candlelight. She felt a rush of desire, a need so intense it threatened to consume her whole.

As you spread her legs, pushing Rhaenyra's skirts up to her waist, exposing her dripping sex, Rhaenyra gasped, her head falling back against the cushions. She could feel the heat of your gaze on her most intimate place, the intensity of it making her core clench with anticipation.

Rhaenyra tangled her fingers in your hair, guiding your face closer to her aching cunt. She could feel the heat of your breath on her sensitive skin, the anticipation nearly driving her mad.

"Don't tease," Rhaenyra commanded, her grip on your hair tightening. "I need your tongue, now."

You revelled in her dominant tone, making wetness pool between your thighs once again.

As your tongue finally made contact with her throbbing clit, Rhaneyra cried out in pleasure, her hips bucking up to meet your mouth. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body, making her toes curl and her fingers dig into the velvet of the couch and your hair.

"Fuck, yes, just like that. Make me feel good. Make your Queen cum." She leaned back against the pillows, her violet eyes never leaving your face. She could see the hunger in those eyes, the desire to please, to worship, to consume.

Your tongue delved deeper, lapping at Rhaenyra's clit, sucking the sensitive bud between her lips. Rhaenyra's grip on your hair tightened, her nails digging into your scalp, holding you in place as she rode your face, grinding her cunny against your eager mouth.

As you pressed your face between Rhaenyra's thighs, you couldn't help but moan against her sopping cunt. The scent of her arousal was intoxicating, and you couldn't get enough of her sweet, tangy juices as they coated my tongue.

You delved deep with your tongue, fucking her tight hole, revelling in the way she writhed and moaned above me. Her taste was exquisite and addictive, and you found yourself craving more, needing to please her, to make her come undone.

Unable to resist, you suddenly plunged two fingers into her spasming pussy, pumping them in and out at a brutal pace. You sucked her clit into your mouth, flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves with your tongue, driving her wild with pleasure.

"Fuck, yes," Rhaenyra moaned, her head thrown back in ecstasy. "Eat me, fuck, eat your Queen's cunny. Make me cum!"

You whined against her sopping heat as you eagerly ate her out, sending vibrations to her already sensitive clit.

Rhaenyra cried out in ecstasy as your fingers plunged into her dripping cunny, fucking her with a relentless, brutal pace. Her back arched off the divan, her hips bucking wildly as she rode the wave of pleasure that crashed over her.

Your tongue lashed at her clit, the dual stimulation of fingers and mouth driving Rhaenyra to the brink of madness. Her thighs clamped around your head, holding you in place as she ground her cunny against her face, seeking more, always more.

Rhaenyra could feel her orgasm building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in her belly, her muscles tensing in anticipation of release. She pushed her hips harder against your hand, fucking herself on your fingers, the wet squelch of her arousal filling the room.

"Don't stop," Rhaenyra commanded, her voice a low, guttural moan. "Make me come, fuck, make your Queen come!"

With a final, brutal thrust of your fingers, Rhaenyra shattered. Her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, her vision whiting out as pleasure consumed her. She screamed a primal, animalistic sound that echoed off the stone walls of the observatory.

Rhaenyra's body convulsed, her cunny clamping down on your fingers, milking them for all they were worth. Her juices gushed out, coating your hand, chin, and breasts. It was messy, filthy, and perfect.

As the aftershocks of her orgasm faded, Rhaenyra collapsed back against the divan, her chest heaving, her skin slick with sweat and her essence. She looked down at you, her eyes hazy with satisfaction, a lazy, satisfied smile playing on her lips.

"You've pleased your Queen well," Rhaenyra purred.

Rhaenyra gazed down at you, her violet eyes dark with lust and a hint of something more primal. The young woman'ssubmissive posture, and the pleading look in your eyes, ignited a hunger in Rhaenyra that she had long suppressed.

She reached down, her fingers tangling in your hair, yanking your head back to expose the elegant column of your throat. Rhaenyra's other hand trailed down your body, her touch feather-light, teasing.

"You want more?" Rhaenyra purred, her voice a husky whisper. "You want your Queen to use you, to take you, to make you hers?"

You nodded, a whimper escaping your lips. "Yes, my Queen," you breathed, your eyes never leaving Rhaenyra's. "I'myours, to do with as you please."

Rhaenyra smiled a predator's grin that sent a shiver down your spine. "Good girl," she murmured, her hand cupping your breast, squeezing the soft flesh. "You're going to be a good little toy for your Queen, aren't you?"

Rhaenyra stood, towering over you, her presence dominating the space between them. She reached for the belt of her gown, slowly, teasingly, letting the anticipation build.

"On your hands and knees," Rhaenyra commanded, her voice tolerating no argument. "Ass up, head down. Present yourself to your Queen like the good little slut you are."

You hastened to obey, your heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement. You positioned yourself on the floor, ass raised, face pressed into the carpet. You could feel Rhaenyra's eyes on her, could hear the rustle of fabric as your Queen disrobed.

"Spread your legs," Rhaenyra ordered, her voice low and demanding. "Show me that pretty little cunt. Let me see what belongs to me."

You complied, spreading your legs wide, exposing your dripping sex to the cool air and her ravenous gaze. You waited, each second passing by felt like an hour without her touch on your skin. Patience was never your virtue.

Rhaenyra drank in the sight before her, the glistening folds of your pussy, the delicate lighter shade of your inner walls, the swollen nub of your clit. She could smell your arousal, a heady, intoxicating scent that made her mouth water with desire.

She knelt behind you, her knees pressing against your thighs, forcing your legs further apart. Rhaenyra's hand came down on your ass with a sharp smack, the sound echoing in the room.

"Patience, my sweet," Rhaenyra purred, her fingers tracing the reddening skin of your cheek. "Your Queen will give you what you need, but first, you must learn to wait, to crave, to beg for my touch."

Rhaenyra's hand moved lower, her fingers teasing along the crease of your ass, dipping between your thighs, but never quite touching you where you needed it most. You whimpered, your hips bucking back, seeking more.

"Shh, be still," Rhaenyra chided, her voice a low, soothing murmur. "Good girls are rewarded, but naughty girls..." 

Her hand came down again, a stinging slap to your ass that made you cry out. Rhaenyra soothed the sting with gentle strokes, her fingers dancing over the heated skin.

"Naughty girls are punished," Rhaenyra finished, her voice dropping to a whisper. "But you have been a good girl, haven'tyou, my sweet?"

You nodded, your face pressed into the carpet, her ass raised high, an offering to her Queen. "Yes, my Queen," she breathed, her voice muffled. "I've been so good for you. Please touch me, my Queen."

Rhaenyra chuckled, the sound dark and rich with promise. "So greedy," she murmured, her fingers dipping between your legs, teasing the slick folds of your cunt. "But I suppose I can indulge you, just this once."

With that, Rhaenyra pushed two fingers inside you, your tight heat clenching around her digits. She pumped them slowly, torturously, revelling in the way your hips bucked, seeking more.

"That's it," Rhaenyra growled, her thumb finding your clit with ease, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive nub. "Take what your Queen gives you. Be a good little girl for me."

You could only moan in response, the pleasure of Rhaenyra's touch short-circuiting your brain.

Rhaenyra withdrew her fingers from your dripping cunny, leaving you empty and aching for more. She circled in front ofyou, her violet eyes dark with lust and power.

"Lay on your back," Rhaenyra commanded, her voice low and authoritative. "I want to see your face when I fuck you. I want to watch you come undone for your Queen."

You hastened to obey, laying back on the plush carpet, your legs falling open in wanton invitation. Rhaenyra loomed over you, her tall, regal form casting a shadow across your body.

She knelt between your thighs, her hands trailing up your calves, your thighs, until she reached your weeping cunt. Rhaenyra's fingers delved inside you once more, pumping in and out, curling to hit that special spot deep within.

"Look at me," Rhaenyra demanded, her other hand gripping your chin, forcing your gaze to meet hers. "Watch your Queen as she makes you come. Watch me as I claim you." With that she pulled her fingers out of your sopping heat, lapping up the slick from your cunt.

"Put your leg up," Rhaenyra ordered. She lifted your left leg, straddling your right thigh as her dripping cunt hovered above yours.

Your breath caught in your throat, a mix of lust and hunger swirling within you as you watched her. The soft glow of the candlelight danced across her features, illuminating the way her eyes sparkled with carnal desire. Every second felt like an eternity as you awaited her next move, your heart racing.

Rhaenyra's eyes locked onto yours, her gaze intense and hungry. She held your leg up, her cunt poised just above yours, the heat of her radiating against your skin.

"You want this, don't you?" Rhaenyra purred. "You want your Queen to ride you, to grind against you until we both come undone."

She shifted forward, the slick folds of her pussy brushing against yours. The contact sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, your hips bucking up to meet her.

"Beg for it," Rhaenyra commanded, her voice a low, seductive growl. "Beg your Queen to fuck you with her cunt. Beg me to make you mine like a good girl"

You couldn't help it, the words tumbled from your lips in a desperate, needy plea. "Please, my Queen," you whimpered, your eyes never leaving Rhaenyra's face. "Please fuck me with your cunt. Make me yours, claim me. I need it, I need you."

Rhaenyra smiled a wicked, triumphant grin that made your heart race. "Good girl," she purred, her praise sending a shiver of delight down your spine. "You've earned a reward."

With that, Rhaenyra pressed down, her cunt engulfing yours in a slick, hot embrace. She began to move, grinding against you, her clit rubbing against yours, the friction delicious and overwhelming.

"Oh, fuck yes!" You screamed out in pleasure, your back arching from the carpet. Your walls clenched around nothing as you felt her clit repeatedly grinding against yours. Eyes screwed shut and brows furrowed, moans kept spilling from your parted lips.

Rhaenyra increased the pace, grinding harder, faster, her cunt sliding against yours in a lewd, wet sound that filled the room. Your thighs quivered, your muscles tensing as your orgasm built to a crescendo.

"Fuck, yes," Rhaenyra moaned, her hips rolling in a sensual rhythm. "You feel so good, so wet for me. I could fuck this sweet little cunt all day and never tire of it."

You could only moan in response, your hands fisting in the carpet beneath you, your body arching up to meet Rhaenyra'smovements. The pleasure was building, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, threatening to snap at any second.

Rhaenyra's smirk widened, a predatory gleam in her violet eyes as she watched you writhe beneath her. Your breath came in short, sharp gasps, your body trembling with the force of your impending orgasm.

"That's it, my sweet," Rhaenyra purred, her voice low and husky. "Let go for me. Come for your Queen."

She increased the pace, grinding harder, faster, her cunt sliding against yours in a slick, obscene sound. Your thighs quivered, your muscles tensing as your orgasm built to a crescendo.

"Fuck, I'm gonna..." you panted, your words trailing off into a moan as the pressure inside you reached a breaking point.

With a final, brutal grind of Rhaenyra's hips, you shattered. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your vision whiting out as pleasure consumed you. You screamed a primal, animalistic sound that echoed off the stone walls of the observatory.

Rhaenyra rode out your orgasm, her pleasure building as she felt your cunt spasm around nothing. She ground against you, drawing out your pleasure, milking every last drop of ecstasy from your body.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm faded, Rhaenyra collapsed beside you, her chest heaving, her skin slick with sweat. She pulled you close, her arms encircling you, holding you tight against her body.

"My sweet, beautiful girl," Rhaenyra murmured, her lips brushing against your temple. "You please your Queen so well."

You nestled into her embrace, your heart still racing, your body humming with satisfaction. At that moment, you belonged to Rhaenyra, body and soul, a willing subject to her desires.

You nuzzled your face into the crook of her neck, seeking solace as you tried to catch your breath. Her scent enveloped you, a delightful blend of vanilla, lavender and lust dancing in the air around you, warm and inviting.

With a tender touch, you reached out to brush her silky white hair away from her face. The strands glimmered softly in the light, cascading like a waterfall over her shoulders. A few wisps clung to her forehead, dampened by a light sheen of sweat that glistened like tiny pearls, evidence of the warmth that lingered between you.

As your eyes met, a wordless understanding passed between the two of you, a shared moment that transcended the need for language. You smiled at her, the corners of your lips turning upwards, filled with unspoken affection and connection, knowing that in this quiet intimacy, everything that mattered was perfectly captured in that fleeting glance.

Rhaenyra leaned into your touch, her eyes fluttering closed as you brushed the sweat-dampened strands of her silver-gold hair from her forehead. She nuzzled into your palm, a soft purr rumbling in her chest.

In that quiet moment, the world faded away, leaving only the two of you, entwined in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow of your shared pleasure. Rhaenyra's heartbeat slowly returned to normal, her breathing evening out as she savoured the warmth of your body against hers.

"You're a treasure," Rhaenyra murmured, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare skin. "A gem among the dross of this world. I am lucky to have you by my side."

You tilted your head, meeting her gaze with a soft, loving smile. "I am the lucky one, my Queen," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "To serve you, to please you, to be yours... it is an honour beyond measure."

Rhaenyra's smile widened, a rare, genuine expression of happiness and contentment. She cupped your face in her hands, her thumbs stroking your cheeks.

"You are mine," she declared, her voice a low, possessive purr. "And I am yours."

You leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, tender kiss. It was a promise, a seal on the unspoken vows exchanged between you. In that kiss, you pledged your loyalty, your devotion, your very soul to Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Dragon Queen.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Every Breath You Take

Dom!Kate Bishop x subby!Yelena Belova x Switch!fem!reader

Word count: 1K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Explicit sexual content, BDSM themes (bondage, restraints, Dom/sub dynamics), Breath play, Threesome (F/F/F), Use of strap-on, Oral sex, Power play, Mild choking

Authors notes: Bet you weren't expecting this, were you?

You and Kate are cuddled up on the couch, the soft glow of the TV flickering as the movie plays, though neither of you is paying much attention. It’s been a quiet evening, just the two of you, enjoying the warmth of each other's company. You’re nestled into Kate's side, her arm draped over your shoulder as she lazily plays with your hair.

The sound of the front door creaking open catches both of your attention, and you glance over to see your other girlfriend, Yelena, stepping inside. Her posture is slouched, her face visibly tired, and the weight of the mission she’s just returned from seems to cling to her.

Without hesitation, you immediately reach out to her, concern filling your voice. "Oh baby, come here," you say gently, patting your lap invitingly.

Yelena doesn’t need to be told twice. She trudges over, collapsing into your lap with a relieved sigh, her arms wrapping tightly around you as she buries her face against your neck. You can feel the tension in her body as she clings to you, her breathing ragged from exhaustion.

"Long day, Lena?" Kate asks, her voice soft as she shifts closer, her hand coming up to rub soothing circles on Yelena’s back.

All you hear in response is a muffled "mhmm" against your skin, the quiet sound making your heart ache for her.

You glance at Kate, the two of you sharing a knowing look. You both understand exactly what Yelena needs right now. A little bit of care... and maybe a lot of playtime to help her unwind.

You stroke Yelena’s hair gently, your voice a soft whisper. "We’ve got you, sweetheart."

Kate leans in, her lips brushing against Yelena’s ear as she murmurs, "Let us take care of you, baby." The promise hangs in the air, a shared understanding that tonight, Yelena will get everything she needs—and more.

Yelena’s wrists are bound securely to the headboard, her body taut and trembling with anticipation. She looks up at you with pleading eyes, her mouth parted as her breath comes in shallow gasps. She tugs at the restraints but not to break free—just to feel the delicious pull of submission you and Kate have her under.

You settle above her, straddling her chest, and slowly lower yourself onto her face. Yelena eagerly responds, her tongue immediately finding your most sensitive spot, making you gasp. Your fingers tangle into her blonde hair, pulling her closer as you grind gently against her mouth, each stroke sending waves of pleasure rippling through you.

At the other end of the bed, Kate stands between Yelena’s spread legs, the glint of the strap-on harness around her hips catching the light. She smirks, trailing her fingers up Yelena’s inner thigh, taking her time, knowing exactly how much Yelena wants her. Yelena whines into you, her hips jerking impatiently, trying to arch toward Kate.

“Patience, baby,” Kate teases, running the tip of the strap over Yelena’s entrance, just barely teasing her. “You’ll get what you need.”

Yelena moans against you, her desperation clear as her tongue works faster, pressing deeper into you, as if she knows that pleasing you will earn her what she wants. You roll your hips, biting your lip, your body starting to tremble from the intensity of her attention.

Your thighs squeeze together around her, you press deeper into her knowing exactly what you’re doing. Cutting off her air supply. Watching as she opened her eyes looking up at you desperately until she was tugging at the restraints knowing to let up as she took in a deep breath. Your eyes flick to her hand watching the movement carefully and understanding. ‘Again.’

You smirk down at your girlfriend settling back down onto her, watching as her face goes red, desperately trying to please you while the air is slowly pulled from her lungs. Yelena could last a long time holding her breath in most situations, but not when she’s trying to please you or Kate.

Kate watches with a satisfied grin before finally deciding to give in to Yelena’s need. She pushes in slowly, the strap filling Yelena inch by inch, eliciting a low, guttural moan from beneath you. The feeling of Yelena’s lips vibrating against you as she lets out that sound nearly sends you over the edge.

“Fuck, Lena,” you breathe, your hands gripping her hair tighter, your head tilting back in bliss.

Kate starts with a slow, deliberate rhythm, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back into Yelena’s slick heat. “Such a good girl for us,” Kate murmurs, her voice low and controlled as she watches Yelena’s body respond to every thrust, her hips moving in time with Kate’s.

Yelena’s moans are muffled against you, but you can feel her need growing more desperate with each passing second. Kate’s pace increases, her hips snapping forward as Yelena’s body arches off the bed, pulling helplessly at her restraints. The bed creaks beneath them, the room filled with the wet sound of Kate fucking Yelena and your own breathless gasps as you ride Yelena’s face.

Kate leans over, her breath hot against your skin as she whispers, “She’s close. You feel it too, don’t you?”

You nod, barely able to speak as the pleasure mounts, your body trembling on the edge. Yelena’s tongue never falters, even as she’s lost in the overwhelming sensations, her body completely at your mercy.

“Cum for us, baby,” you whisper to Yelena, knowing she’s close. And with that, Yelena lets out a broken cry against you, her body shaking as she falls apart beneath both of you, her release sending you spiraling into your own.

Kate keeps thrusting, working Yelena through her orgasm, her hips moving steadily as she watches the way Yelena’s body responds. You collapse forward slightly, panting, your hand still tangled in Yelena’s hair as her movements slow, her tongue flicking over you gently in her own dazed state.

As the three of you come down from the high, Kate pulls out gently, running her hands soothingly along Yelena’s thighs, while you lift yourself off Yelena’s face, gently stroking her cheek. Yelena looks up at you, exhausted but content, her lips glistening.

“We’re not done with you yet, Lena,” Kate smirks, leaning in to kiss your shoulder. “But for now... you did so good, baby.”

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Douma General Profile

Yandere! Douma x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, mentions of non/dub-con, stalking, gore, breaking and entering, allusions to cannibalism/unknowing cannibalism, semi-graphic descriptions of an innocent animal being killed so fuck you Douma, mentions of physical and sexual harassment, physical violence towards reader, choking, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 11K

DARLING PROFILE:

Stubborn

In general, Douma needs a darling who isn’t a pushover. He’s used to his followers blindly following his orders, nodding eagerly at his words and allowing him to do whatever he pleases with them. He’s used to lesser demons being petrified of his power, either entirely avoiding him or pleading for him to spare them, something that admittedly strokes his ego but grows boring at a certain point.

And so, while Douma is pleased that the people and creatures surrounding him so obviously understand his superiority, he yearns for something different – for something new, exciting, challenging. A darling that’s more stubborn and doesn’t blindly obey him would pique his interest, his mind reeling with all the possible ways he can get them to submit to him.

He’s giddy at the prospect of breaking down his darling, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet because oh, they’re just so very contrary to what he’s used to. He likes the idea of a darling who’s easy to fluster and embarrass, and a darling that will cling onto their beliefs and opinions presents Douma with an irresistible opportunity to slowly mold his darling into the perfect, responsive, sweet little human that he can tease and study, someone he can keep by his side like some sort of loyal pet.

(Though, as Douma’s obsession festers and only grows stronger and harder to control, he finds that he no longer thinks of his darling as some sort of glorified pet – they’re his, a possession, someone he feels strangely connected to, the barest hint of emotions dancing at the edge of his subconscious. The feeling is addictive, and with every denial of his charms and scoffed, irritated roll of their eyes, he only finds himself growing more desperate to be around them, fascination and intrigue and desire in more than a carnal way spurring him to spend every waking moment with them.)

Opinionated

Similarly, Douma enjoys a darling who has strong feelings. He understands the allure of a meeker woman – they’re easy to control and even easier to manipulate, making them the perfect follower and food supply. But for his darling, the woman he thinks he feels some sort of love for, they need to be someone with a little more backbone.

It excites him when his darling stands up to him – the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, his shoulders tensing up and his breathing getting a bit heavy because yes, tell him again why he’s wrong – tell him again, now that he’s merely a foot away from you, close enough that you can feel his breath against the shell of your ear and his body – much stronger than you remember – is mere inches from yours.

He finds his darling to be an endless source of entertainment, and so they need to have strong opinions covering a wide variety of topics.

He likes surprising his darling with random questions: what are their thoughts on the afterlife and death? Should the weak have any sort of rights, and do they believe in nature’s power structure that puts demons unequivocally at the top?

Do they enjoy traditional human romantic customs, like kissing or holding hands?

Or do they prefer more intense displays of passion and devotion – would his darling enjoy it if he returned to them with the severed head of a man who’d spared them a passing glance, just as a show of how much he cares for them?

He wants to know the answers to each and every question, and one of the biggest aspects of him obsessing over his darling is the non-stop talking – always prompting them with a new question that’s almost as insane as the last, his eyes glittering and sparkling as he asks them what they think the most painful way to die is.

(If they were to answer being eaten alive, Douma would merely cock his head, blinking widely at them, before bursting into laughter, his eyes holding a glimmer of something that makes his darling freeze up in fear, a primitive instinct in them screaming to run away from this monster. Ah yes, I’d imagine it would be quite painful indeed, he’ll tell them, curling a sharp fingernail around their chin.)

Paranoid

This trait is less of a necessity and more of a perk – in general, Douma will absolutely destroy his darling. He cares for them in some twisted, strange way, but he’s not afraid to completely break his darling before rebuilding them just as he so desires.

Of course, he still wants the basic bones of their personality to remain intact, but having a darling with a propensity for anxiety and paranoia would make that job much, much simpler. He can instead divert his time and attention towards effectively corrupting them and slowly breaking them down rather than bothering with the initial stages of forcing them to doubt themselves.

The combination of his darling’s kidnapping and being held captive by a man-eating demon would force this character trait to become even more heightened, putting them in a position intensifying Douma’s poking and prodding and overwhelming them. And so, he can spend his time carefully choosing how he wants to approach them – which new insecurity should he prod at today?

He knows they’re a bit sensitive about their weight – something he doesn’t understand, really, because he absolutely loves their figure.

 He’ll lightly comment about their weight, making some remark with sugar-coated words and watching as his darling tenses up, their face twisting into that wonderful expression of hurt and sadness, the mere sight of their face changing because of him making a small, high sigh slip past his lips.

Once he thinks his darling has had enough, he’ll end the conversation with a small compliment, telling them that they’re too sensitive, we’re just having a bit of fun, aren’t we?

And really, watching the way his darling just shakily nods and tries to compose themselves leaves him feeling vindictive, satisfied, seen.

It’s selfish and horrible, but Douma is a selfish and horrible creature – so really, a paranoid darling would be absolutely perfect.

Talkative

However, despite Douma’s hobby of irritating his darling and embarrassing them, he still wants a darling who will actively engage with him. Of course, it’s very easy to force his darling into speaking with him, as just a flash of those nails, fangs, or a dismembered limb will often get them blubbering and frantically rambling and doing absolutely anything Douma requests of them.

But it’s different when his darling actively chooses to speak with him – perhaps it’s still out of fear, but at least this way Douma can indulge himself in the idea that they want to speak with him.

He can pretend that they actually enjoy hearing his voice, that they like the long, drawn-out conversations he frequently holds with them, that they actually like him – a concept that simultaneously displeases him and leaves something warm and scratchy and good settle in his chest.

Because really, while Douma’s feelings for his darling are questionable at best, he really does truly want them to like him – he craves a kind of connection that isn’t superficial and one-sided, and although it’s entirely new territory he wants them to fulfill this desire.

And so, while he annoys his darling and forces them into conversations because he likes to interact with them and study their reactions, there’s a deeper sense of desperation and neediness underlying his words and actions. A darling that is naturally more talkative will give him this desired connection, making it easier for him to feel wanted, needed, liked in a way that’s entirely foreign to him.

It’s just attractive, really, because while shy, quiet humans have their purposes, a life partner (as Douma thinks of his darling) needs to be someone who won’t shy away from his words, who will retain their voice around him. It’s just attractive, really – so please keep talking to him.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Clingy

In general, Douma is overwhelming. He’s chatty, touchy, and has absolutely no respect for your boundaries.

You’re his sweet little human – weak and naïve and perfect to play with, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t enjoy having you around. And enjoying you means teasing you, pushing your buttons, irritating you until your face twists up into that scowl or grimace that he absolutely loves to see.

He’s always doing things just to see your reaction – he’ll place things on shelves you can’t reach just to watch you bite your lip and contemplate whether you want to ask him for help, internally swooning because aw, aren’t you just the cutest when you’re embarrassed?

He’ll make you say ‘please’ in order to eat the food he’s offering you, a smirk sitting on his lips as he tells that he didn’t quite hear that, could you say that again please?

(Of course, the food isn’t the food you think it is – it’s edible, sure, and it’s high quality, but as time passes Douma finds himself toying with the idea of turning you into a demon, knowing he could probably persuade Muzan into doing this because it makes the Upper Rank Two more productive. And so, while he’d fed you mostly animal meat when he’d initially stolen you away, he very slowly begins integrating less common meats, opting to mix the smallest amount of human flesh in with the beef he serves you, just a hair of a finger or a small bit of thigh. Just to get you familiar with the taste – and to watch your face freeze up and hear you gag as he tells that you’d just eaten the man who brought you afternoon tea yesterday. He loves the way you look at him with your eyes wide and your jaw dropped, shock and disgust and fear swimming in those pretty eyes of yours and making shivers erupt over his whole body, the sight absolutely delicious.)

He’ll lay his hand on your shoulder at random times, seeing your whole body jerk and jump as you whip your head back, surprise written all over your face because you hadn’t heard him enter the room.

(Silently, he’ll marvel at the warmth of your skin through your clothing – you feel soft, too, and Douma idly wonders if the rest of you is this warm and soft. If everything is this lovely, or if certain parts of you are warmer, more sensitive, wetter -)

His favorite way to bug you, however, is to fluster you. Douma is aware that by human standards he’s very attractive – perfectly clear skin, wavy and thick hair, a sharp jawline and a smile that makes most human women – and men – crumble instantly. And while you seem to be largely immune to his charms (much to his delight and chagrin), Douma makes it his mission to get you flustered at nearly every opportunity he can. There’s something about the way your face crinkles up, your brows growing taut and your eyes looking everywhere except him that makes him only want to push further, to say more provocative things, to get closer, to hear your sharp intake of breath again and again.

He’ll have you sit near him, your thighs just barely brushing, his inhuman hearing able to pick up your slightly increased heartbeat, his own heart racing in his chest as it does every time you get so close to him. He’ll be telling you something inconsequential, narrating what he’d done that day, and nonchalantly let his hand rest on the expanse of your thigh, not even pausing his words to acknowledge his action.

And hearing your heart begin beating even faster and smell the distinct smell of fear and even just the slightest, smallest twinge of arousal gets his nostrils flaring, excitement bleeding into his voice because oh, you like this, do you?

And he’ll capitalize on your well-hidden attraction – scotting closer to you so that you can smell him better (he’d tried a new cologne that morning – one he’d seen you eyeing in a shop many months before), increasing the pressure of his fingers so that he’s gripping your thigh (and trying not to lose his composure at just how squishy you are, your human flesh so pliable and pretty and the perfect thing to feel under the pads of his fingers), and asking you with the same tease in his voice (though it’s just a tad huskier, not even intentionally) if you’re enjoying yourself, hmm? If you tell me you like this I can give you more, you know.

He’ll lean in closely to your ear, tongue lolling out to lick up the shell while he finishes with a whispered I’m no stranger to the human female body…

He’ll listen for your breath to hitch, feeling your muscles tense underneath his grip, the audible rush of blood through your veins, letting the tension build and build before laughing and leaning back. He’ll take his hand off your thigh and shoot you that same smile that his followers gush over, telling you that you’re so cute when you’re flustered, bunny, you should’ve seen your face! He likes how you try to hide your face, your fists clenched as embarrassment eats you alive because god, he’s infuriating, and god, you hate that you’d almost wanted to take him up on his offer.

And really, that’s the way Douma will slowly break you down – he’s fascinated with you, like you’re some sort of pet project of his that he wants to study and understand, and as a result he needs to spend as much time around you as possible. You’ll hardly ever get a moment to yourself as his darling – he’s always lurking, invading your personal space and inserting himself into situations where he’s not wanted.

He’ll slip under the covers of the futon right beside you, those strangely colored eyes wide and bright as he tells you that you just looked too cute for him to not want to join you – and of course he has to be laying close enough to be sharing breaths. The futon’s not that big, so what did you expect? He’ll trail behind you as you walk into the restroom, smiling brightly at you as you ask him to leave so you can bathe in peace. He has the audacity to tilt his head to the side, that same smile on his face but seeming a little wider now as he asks you why should I do that? You can shower just fine with me right here, can’t you?

(He often joins you on your trips to relieve yourself, too, standing beside you and holding full conversations with you as you hesitantly seat yourself onto the toilet, trying to avoid the eye contact he’s very, very eager to maintain. It’s quality time, he says when you bring up how uncomfortable it makes you, and you’re really just too weak and irresponsible to be trusted alone in the bathroom – what if you slip and fall? What if you accidentally rub your skin raw with your towel? Douma wouldn’t want you to be hurt, now would he? The condescending tone of his voice will often leave you angry enough to not further the conversation, making Douma smug and giddy because oh, aren’t you adorable when you’re angry!)

He’s just needy, really, because the sick, twisted version of love that he feels for you is rooted in fascination, in wanting to see how you react to the things he does to you. He wants to see every emotion you’re capable of, and he wants to be the reason for all of them. Really, he just wants you to be looking at him, paying him attention, reacting to him and the things he does – just keep your eyes on him, and let him bother you every moment of every day.

Eventually you’ll grow to tolerate the sound of his voice, the feel of his hands on your body, the embarrassment that eats you alive nearly every time you interact with him. It’ll get easier, really – or perhaps you’ll just grow more complacent, and Douma will seem less like a thorn in your side and more like the only other person you ever interact with.

Just how he wants it.

Dependent

Douma is a creature that has lived for a very long time and has known only total and utter control – serving Muzan and letting everyone else serve him. He’s used to being the one in control, needing to feel the power and sense of total dominance over others in order to function correctly, to feel good.

And in most ways this applies to his obsession with you, too – he’s very aware that he’s stronger than you. He’s both physically and mentally stronger, smarter, faster, more capable, more powerful, just generally more. And in the beginning of his obsession, noticing this obvious difference in your strength and having you blatantly ignore it was enough to pique his interest.

Too many decades had passed by with humans cowering in fear and kneeling before him (as it should be), but it’s left him bored, aching for more, wanting something new and entertaining. And so once he meets you and sees that you aren’t one to submit quite as easily, Douma is immediately hooked, wanting to push you as far as he can just to see how much you can take before you crack.

And really, this is how the majority of his infatuation is presented to you – he’s an annoying, terrifying creature who metaphorically clings onto your every word and action, those colorful eyes of his always watching and staring and wanting.

You think he wants to kill you, really, and you’ll be left constantly on edge around him, terrified that he’ll hurt you or your loved ones for even a single step out of line. And in the beginning, Douma does nothing to dissolve this perception you have of him simply because it’s true. He doesn’t know if he wants to hurt you or not, if he wants to kill you, what he wants with you. You’re an enigma to him, and he’d kept you around because you intrigued him.

With every passing day, this interest and intrigue only seems to grow deeper, stronger, more difficult to disentangle himself out of. But his pride and staunch view that he’s better than all humans bars him from really realizing this early into his infatuation, firmly telling himself that it’s just curiosity that compels him to not sink his teeth into the fleshy expanse of your thigh. It’s just innocent fun that’s stopping him from ripping you apart limb by limb, feasting on what he’s absolutely sure is soft, supple flesh that would have the sweetest taste.

Though, as time passes, even Douma must admit that his feelings for his darling begin venturing into unknown, dangerous territory – no longer is it simply amusement, entertainment, and mild physical attraction that draws him to you. Instead, there’s something more – he’s desperate to see you at all times, growing addicted to having your attention, his body yearning for you in a way that simply fucking another female follower can’t satisfy.

He needs you – he’s grown too charmed by your stubbornness, your continued resistance to simply appeasing him making him more desperate to crush you and have you under his thumb. No longer is his obsession simply a desire to have you around to mess with and satisfy his boredom – no, now it’s about you and your place at his side. You’re certainly not his equal, but he sees you as a companion, a partner not in equalness but in terms of needing you.

Because really, as soon as Douma realizes that he’s toeing the line between mild interest and honest desperation, he panics a bit. This is totally new – something unknown and scary and something he can’t control, so he tries to pull back, forcing himself to give you distance because he simply can’t be allowing you to have such control over him.

You plague his every thought – when you’re apart, he’s imagining what you’re doing. Are you relaxing, enjoying the serenity that being away from your kidnapper brings you?

Are you lonely, wishing he was there to keep you company, even if the way he touches you makes your skin crawl?

Are you sleeping, hopefully dreaming about people with his face and eyes and hair?

Or perhaps you’re eating, maybe even finding yourself wishing that Douma was there to sit beside you, that sick grin on his face while he lifts the chopsticks, tells you to say ‘ah’ and places the sushi delicately on your tongue, something dark in his expression as he tells you to chew and swallow, don’t let it go to waste.

He’d only fed you once, and you’d fought it the whole time, trying to squirm away from him and being thoroughly difficult. It’d entertained Douma in the moment, the way you were so desperate to get away from him, but now, thinking back on it as he patiently waits for Gyokko to get to the meeting site for the joint mission Muzan had assigned them, he’s starting to wonder if perhaps the experience would be even more enjoyable if you obediently let him feed you, looking at him with those pretty eyes of yours and even thanking him, telling him how delicious the food is, how nice his company is, how you’re so very glad that he’s returned to you…

It’s sappy and stupid and ridiculous, and it makes Douma scowl to know that you’ve managed to snag such a hold on him, but every time he considers killing you, something sharp wedges its way into his heart and he finds himself dismissing the thought.

Because really, as pathetic as being obsessed with a weak human female like you is, the alternative is worse – returning to a life of monotony and apathy, seeking his thrills through the momentary high of a slaughter, desperately chasing after more power and more entertainment, trying to fill in the empty void in his chest where his heart should be.

You fix all of that – and so he decides to embrace these new feelings, deciding that if he feels so strongly for you, then he must keep you by his side. You aren’t allowed to ever leave – he would be a shell of a demon if you did, every ounce of joy and happiness stolen from him, and he’s simply too selfish to allow that to happen.

So you’d better prepare for Douma’s constant attention, the frantic way he looks to you, the way his fingers always grip onto you, his voice ringing in your ears over and over and over. He’s overwhelming you, his presence and the constant demands of your attention draining you and leaving you attached to him in a way that makes him sick, but Douma frankly doesn’t care.

How can he? Every moment he spends with you not only quells the constant ache to be around you and feel your eyes on him, but it also deepens your dependence on him, too. Because really, Douma is the only person you ever see with any real consistency – he’s incredibly strict on allowing his followers to come into contact with you, only allowing a small handful of his most devoted servants to drop off meals or change your bath water when he can’t be there to do it himself.

(Both of these activities he loathes missing, if only because you’re so cute when you’re eating, and bathing you? God, Douma likes to think he has decent self-control, but the way he pounces at you and bares his teeth, his eyes darkening and his voice getting noticeably deeper makes it obvious that his hold on himself is slipping, the sight of your nude body with water only barely covering your nipples and below your torso making him genuinely feral.)

 It’s in moments like these that Douma can only laugh at himself, embarrassed for having allowed himself to fall so strongly for a weak, pathetic thing like you. And yet, as time passes he finds himself not caring – after all, when he forces you to turn into a demon, some of that self-loathing will disappear, and then he can be as rough as he wants with you – an idea that makes him literally tremble with anticipation.

Possessive

Unlike his fellow demons, Douma is actually a bit sneaky with this aspect of his obsession – at least, in the beginning.

He’s not obviously possessive or territorial of you, or at least not more so than you’d expect. Frankly, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s kidnapped you and flirts with you just to fluster you, you’d have no idea that Douma is interested in you romantically. He’s touchy and pushy, sure, but he never showcases any traits of the traditional jealous partner. He doesn’t rant and rave about how you’re his, nor does he leave possessive bites or marks along your body to physically mark you as his.

He’s not that uncivilized – at least, he likes to think so. He’s not that terribly obsessed with you, he likes to believe, and by not being verbally territorial over your time, space, and attention, he feels that he’s maintaining this boundary between you where you can’t see just how truly dependent on you he’s become.

But the issue, really, is that while Douma thinks he isn’t easily jealous or possessive over you, it couldn’t be further from the truth. Really, he absolutely needs you to be looking at him and only him – he’s used to being revered and worshipped, both by his followers and many of his fellow demons, but there’s just something different about your attention.

There’s something warmer, something better, something that makes his fingers twitch and his neck feel hot because god, you look good when you’re looking at him, and when you say his name with that slight tremble of fear in your voice he wants to press you so tightly against him that you can’t breath.

You’re just different, really, and so Douma struggles with this internal dilemma. Particularly in the beginning of his obsession and your captivity, he doesn’t allow any signs of his true feelings to be seen – sure he’s flirting with you and teasing you just to see you squirm and get all embarrassed, but it’s just for fun. It’s all a big game, of course – you’re just so weak and endearing and strangely cute that Douma can’t help but belittle you and see that flustered, embarrassed expression on that pretty face of yours.

But then he notices you smiling and laughing at something else one day – something small, something stupid.

A small squirrel had managed to weasel its through the high window into the room he keeps you locked away in, the little brown animal curiously staring at you. On its hind legs, dark, beady eyes fixed on you while you lightly giggle and marvel at the bushiness of its tail, the liveliness of its presence – suddenly not feeling so horribly, horribly lonely.

And Douma’s immediately seeing red – your pretty face is all twisted up in a smile and your eyes are fucking sparkling – why the hell don’t you look like that when he’s talking to you? You’ve never looked this happy with him even once – you flustered and embarrassed is great, but this?

His hands are shaking, an ugly snarl ripping across his face, blond hair bristling as he sprints to grab the squirrel. Everything happens too fast for you to really comprehend – the squirrel is a few feet away from you one second, squeezed between his pale finger the next, something maniacal and scary and horrifying flicking through those rainbow eyes of his as he stares down at the small creature.

You’re immediately scrambling to your feet, begging him to not hurt the animal, and his head snaps to yours almost robotically, that look morphing into some deranged excuse of a smile as he tells you that you’re not allowed to be making friends, remember? I told you what would happen if you did. Do you remember what I told you?

And as you start sobbing, begging him to not kill the animal, Douma will only sigh wistfully, deciding that although he wants to see you smiling and laughing and loving him like the way you loved this squirrel, this is nice too. You, with tears streaming down your cheeks, snot dribbling from your nose, your eyes all glassy and red – you’re cute like this, really, and it makes him smile gleefully, squeezing at the squirrel just a hair tighter and oh god –

You’re still crying when he has the follower on their hands and knees scrubbing the blood from the pretty white flooring, your body wrapped in Douma’s arms while he coos at you and plays with your hair.

It’s only then that you’ll really begin to see just how truly devoted Douma is to you – his hands are all over you, those eyes staring holes through you, arms tugging you closer and closer to him, not leaving an inch of space between your bodies. He’ll grab your chin and force you to look at him, that same sick smile on his face while he tells you that you’re very pretty, you know, I like when you look like this. Now won’t you smile for me? C’mon, I deserve a smile, don’t I?

If you don’t, his grip tightens, surely leaving bruises against your dainty skin, pressing tighter until you shakily quirk up your lips, the smile pained and strained and absolutely divine in his eyes. It’s then that the possessiveness will start to rear its ugly head – he’s telling you in that same sing-song, fake voice that you’re so much better when you’re smiling… Hey, you know to only smile at me, right? You know what’ll happen to anyone or anything else you smile at and talk to. I’m the only one you need to look at – I’ll slaughter anything that dares to steal your attention from me, do you understand?

Meanwhile, he’s stroking your cheek, unblinking as he stares, his breath ice cold and making you shiver. After that incident, Douma doesn’t hold back on making it absolutely clear that you are not to speak with anyone else in the compound – you’d already been studiously avoided by all his followers, only coming into contact with someone when they were forced to bring you food or attend to your washroom needs. But now, everyone was actively afraid of you – running at the sight of you, one poor girl even shaking and breathing so heavily as she heated your bathwater that it hurt just to look at her.

And you know it’s all Douma’s doing, too – you’ve heard him telling his followers that you’re strictly off-limits, that you’re something that isn’t to be touched or looked at, that you’re a sin, that to interact with you without just cause would be an irrevocable offense worthy of death. And there’s something about his voice when he says it that makes you bite your lip, fear dancing through your chest because you’ve never heard him be so serious before, the rumble of his words and the way you can practically see the dead-eyed, apathetic face making something in your gut twist.

From then on, he’s even more clingy – constantly demanding your attention, touching you seemingly without restraint, his voice constantly ringing in your head as he bothers you day and night, never letting you go more than a few minutes without his presence at your side and rudely commanding your attention and time.

Really, he’s just awfully needy – you’re his. His favorite human, toy, thing, and he'll be damned if he lets anyone – or any thing – take that away from him. He’s a powerful demon, and you’re nothing compared to him. So just accept your place as his personal whore, really – because there’s nothing you can do about it. He’s needy and jealous and will become the only person you’ll see with any sort of remote consistency, and it’s all by design.

You’re not to speak with, look at, or think of anyone else – you really, really wouldn’t to see anyone get hurt over that rule, now would you?

Because as much as he likes your positive attention, seeing you scream and cry and hate him is almost as good – delicious in a way that makes him lick his teeth and giggle because ah, you’re just so adorable.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Quite honestly, despite Douma’s more possessive feelings over you, he doesn’t get jealous that often.

This is mostly due to the fact that he severely limits who he allows to interact with you – all your attendants must be female, and ideally rather weak-willed and soft-spoken. He wants you to be interacting with the most mild people he can, just so that you don’t grow too attached to anyone.

He’ll keep the attendants rotating, just so that you don’t develop any sort of comradery with anyone, and so that no one becomes hopelessly enthralled by you or becomes inspired to set you free from your obvious captivity. It’s all selfish and very, very purposefully orchestrated, because while Douma may be occasionally relaxed and not as rigid with his followers, anything involving you is meticulously thought out, planned with such a degree of obsessiveness that it nearly drives him crazy.

And so, you hardly ever get the chance to interact with a man, much less glance at him – which is very, very good news for the people of the compound, because otherwise all of their blood would be spilled and he’d  be touching your sweet body over their corpses.

Douma simply doesn’t get the opportunity to become jealous often – and even before all of his obsession has fully festered and established itself, this stands true. He kidnaps you very early on, and fully with the intention of killing you once his interest in you dries up.

As a result, there’s simply not much time between the formation of his obsession and your eventual relocation to his temple, seriously limiting his opportunities to grow jealous over you. And this pleases Douma – once he decides that he wants to keep you, the thought of you being unable to interact with anyone significant aside from himself is calming, a sense of possessiveness and ownership over you swimming through him that makes his smile almost real.

And so, for the first few weeks of your captivity, you’ll genuinely think that Douma won’t grow jealous over you, simply because the very, very few people you meet are nearly silent, only interacting with you when absolutely necessary and practically running out of the room before you even finish talking.

 But of course, not everything goes to plan – it only takes a single encounter for you to realize that your previous assumptions about him not growing jealous were painfully mistaken.

The new attendant is more talkative than the previous one. The last one had been mousy, a quiet little creature of a girl who couldn’t be older than fourteen, setting down your meal tray and immediately darting out of the room, the lock clicking loudly behind her. You hadn’t gotten much of a chance to speak with her, let alone ask her name or details about your location.

But this newer girl was a little bolder. Her gaze, while still averted, would occasionally dart back to you. And while the pity in her eyes made something ugly simmer in your chest, the acknowledgement of your poor situation by anyone other than him was still welcome.

She was still rather quiet, but you noticed that she stayed just a hair longer, and would even manage to crack the smallest of smiles in your presence.

But during one sunny afternoon, while Douma longues on your bed with an arm propped under his head and those eyes of his stuck on your figure, she comes by to drop off the food.

It’s a familiar knock at your door, and you perk up at the sound, something that Douma notices with a slight twitch of his eyebrow.

Come in, you call, watching as the locks click and the wooden door creaks open. The girl is there, and you watch as her eyes meet yours and she gives you a small nod of recognition. You smile ever so slightly back, on edge with Douma’s hawk eyes monitoring the entire interaction.

The girl sets the tray onto the ground before shuffling away, glancing up one more time only to suddenly notice Douma’s presence on the bed. She gasps, eyes blowing wide, before bowing her head against the ground, stuttering out a M-Master Douma!

He’s quiet, his gaze narrowing ever so slightly, before an easy smile settles onto his lips. Slowly he gets up, steps light and airy as he approaches the doorway. You’re still standing on the other side of the room, watching the interaction with every hair on your body standing at attention. There’s something about the way he feels, the predatory sense of dread hanging in the air that makes your every muscle desperate to run away, to get out before something terrible happens.

He squats down to her kneeling height once he reaches her, his eyes closing as he keeps up that smile. Do you know her?

The girl shakes her head quickly, her voice merely a whisper as she tells him no, I only serve her meals occasionally.

He nods, humming. So why are you looking at her then?

The girl parts her lips slightly, gaze wide as she stares at him. I – um, I don’t what you mean, Master. I’m sorry.

His eyes open, lids closing half-way and pupils fixed on her. Why are you staring at her so familiarly? Did I not explicitly tell you to avoid looking at what’s mine?

She gulps, her hands starting to shake. I – I’m  terribly sorry, I did not mean to –

Douma sighs, but his shoulders stay tight and tensed, the muscles in his arm visibly flexing underneath his shirt as he clenches his fist. Ah-ah-ah, don’t you know? I don’t care what you have to say. No one is to look at or speak to her. You knew this. And yet you went and did it anyways. Do you know what that makes you?

She’s crying now, tears slipping down her cheeks and her lip wobbling. You’re too frozen with fear to move, but you can hardly breath.

Douma smiles, tilting her chin up ever so slightly. He leans in closer, bunch hunched in a way that doesn’t look human.

Dead. He breathes out.

It happens too quickly for you to follow – his fist is plunging into her chest, her scream cut short by him ripping his hand back out, something red and wet and moving clutched in his palm. The sight makes you sick, bile rising up in the back of your throat and making you heave, forcing you to the ground.

Her body goes limp and slumps to the side, blood pouring around her body and leaving the pretty, wooden floors stained red.

Douma’s giggling, you hear, as he squeezes at her dismembered heart, clutching down tighter and tighter and tighter – until it explodes in a spray of red, getting all over his face and chest, staining the floor even more and making a fresh wave of nausea pass through you.

Your entire body is shaking, gaze unable to stop staring at her lifeless body, terror coursing through you and making it impossible to breath, to move, to think.

All too soon Douma’s standing up, wiping the blood staining his hand onto the already ruined white fabric of his pants, gaze settling on you and sighing once more. What a mess, he laments, but your gaze is still stuck on the girl.

He pouts at that, moving forward and physically blocking your view, getting close enough to you that you can smell the blood on him, see the little bits of tissue and muscle decorating the tight fabric of his shirt.

He’s smiling again, and you flinch as he clasps a strand of your hair between two fingers, rubbing it between them and smearing red all over.

Did you like that? His question makes your lips part, your gaze slowly moving to meet his, something in your gut screaming at you to hurt him, to hurt this creature that so cruelly ruins and steals the lives of others.

But as Douma presses in further, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as his eyes get wider, his voice a bit higher, excitement oozing off of him in waves, he only asks again did you like seeing that? Doesn’t it feel good to see her get what she deserves?

You have nothing to say to that, so you only stare, your own tears pooling down your cheeks.

Douma’s eyes sparkle at that, and he leans forward, tongue lolling out and licking a long strike up your cheek, the salty taste making him shiver.

He rests his forehead against yours, licking his lips and pressing wet, bloody hands against your arms. Hey, let’s go to bed. You’ll be good for me, right? You wouldn’t want to anger me, you know.

And really, what other choice do you have but to say yes, to let him drag you to the mattress and hold you, all the while you stare at the girl’s body? There’s blood staining every inch of your skin and smearing across the sheets, but you try to ignore the now cold, viscous feeling.

And does it make you a bad person for being grateful that it’s not you laying lifeless on the cold, hard ground?

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

It’s inevitable, and it happens fast. Douma is simply a stranger to you at first – a friend of yours had been converted into the Paradise Cult, and at Douma’s urging, each follower had been required to drag in a new member.

You weren’t especially receptive to the idea, but your friend had tricked you into visiting the compound by telling you it was simply an alternative living community, leaving you unsure and suspicious but not wanting to doubt the friend who’d suddenly re-emerged into your life.

And after stepping foot into the compound, you immediately had a sense of what was happening – something was very, very wrong, and your friend seemed entirely dismissive and unaware of it. You’d stayed out of politeness (and your friend’s very thinly veiled threats of what would happen if you were to run), promising to meet the Master as your friend had begged, and upon meeting Douma (alongside a large group of people who seemed to be in varying states of fear and confusion, like yourself), you’d immediately wanted to turn-tail and leave.

He’d gone through each individual recruit, shaking their hand and whispering sweet words to them, and when he’d approached you, expecting the same kindness and reverence that all the other recruits were told to exhibit, he was sorely mistaken. After grabbing your hands (his hands were ice cold, freezing, and perfectly smooth), you’d smiled at him, trying to mirror the expression on his face.

Welcome to Paradise, won’t you join us? His voice had been smooth, calming, and layered with a sense of confidence that had your smile turning sour.

No, thank you, I’ll be leaving now. You’d ripped your hands out of his grasp and promptly turned on your heel, not sparing Douma a glance as he gaped at you, genuinely too stunned to make a move and follow you.

He’d meant to follow after you, anger at your disrespect making his eye twitch, but the other recruits had to be brought in before he could bother with a single disgruntled woman. You’d managed to leave the compound, ignoring your friend’s hysteria and desperate pleas to apologize to the Master, instead storming all the way back to your own home and vowing to never set foot on that property again. There was just something unnerving about the place, and that man – he’d made some primal sense of fear edge up into your throat, your body feeling feather light and your reflexes heightened.

But as you tried to adjust back into your life and essentially mourn the loss of your friend, Douma hadn’t forgotten about you. He’d tried to – you were inconsequential, a dirty, lowly human woman, utterly nothing. And yet, the days began to blend together, images of your naively brave face dancing behind his eyelids, thinking of the absolute gall you had to blatantly disrespect what your body could clearly sense was an apex predator.

(He’d been able to smell the fear wafting off of you in waves, hear the rapid pounding of your heart, see the tremor of your hands. You’d been petrified, truly, and yet you’d still been stupid enough to run away. It would be impressive, if it didn’t leave such a sour taste in his mouth.)

The anger prompted him to call in your friend, asking with a sickly sweet smile what your name was, where you lived, and to tell him a bit about you. Your friend was more than happy to oblige his request, apologizing profusely on your behalf and spilling every detail about you that they could. Douma had nodded at the end, flashing them one last smile before slicing their head off, licking a bloody finger afterwards and humming.

Immediately heading off towards the location of your home, Douma ran through all the possible ways he could punish you for your blatant disrespect – perhaps rip your toes and fingers off one by one, then devour you, or maybe even slice open your belly and let you suffer before death?

Deeply pondering, he’d stopped outside your home, staring into the windows and feeling his eyes brighten at the sight of you simply seated in your living area, reading out of a book. You were nothing special, truly – no particularly beautiful features, nothing that would catch his eye out of the hundreds of humans he’s met and devoured. You were utterly unremarkable, and weak, too; unable to fight, unable to defend yourself, just utterly, utterly pathetic.

And as he slips into your home, internally scoffing at how you don’t even notice his presence, Douma suddenly stops. You’re looking at him now, panic eating away at your features as you cling to the wall behind you, your voice shaking and rather thin as you scream at him that you’ll hurt you, don’t – don’t come any closer!

And really, it almost makes him laugh when you grab at the candlestick on the nearby table, pointing the stubby, wax bar at him with eyes wide enough to make him giggle.

It’s quiet for a long moment, before Douma’s lips quirk up into something vaguely resembling a smile, something in his eyes growing brighter as he realizes that oh, you might be a bit of fun.

And as he moves forward and has a hand striking against the pressure point in your neck before you can even blink, Douma finds himself nonchalantly leaning down to smell along the curve of your jaw.

You’re not wholly unappealing, now that he looks at you up close. You smell nice enough – a bit floral, a bit earthy, and he can hear the beating of your heart from this close. That same twisted smile sits on his lips as he brings you back to the compound, rainbow eyes dull as he unceremoniously drops you onto the rackety, spare mattress of a fellow cult member, ignoring their questions as he slices at their throat and hums.

You could be entertaining enough, at least for a day or two – it’s not often that people resist him, and he wants to know how long it’ll take before you break.

Despite Douma’s rather spontaneous kidnapping of you, it doesn’t take him long to fall into a rhythm with you. What he feels for you at first is slow-going and barely even there, but it’s something – and as time passes and he becomes aware that you’re inspiring an unknown emotion – any emotion, aside from a dull pleasure in seeing others suffering - inside of his chest, he becomes more and more attached.

And this is obvious in the way that he treats you – he’s absolutely suffocating, choosing to take up your every moment of the day because absolutely nothing compares to the sight of you scowling at him, or the way you flinch and scramble to get away from him every time he reaches out to touch you. It’s cute, even, the way you ardently try to escape him when you’re both painfully aware that it isn’t possible. It’s endearing, but even with your stubborn nature, you’ll eventually grow complacent in the lifestyle he’s forced upon you.

You’re kept in a set of bedchambers that very clearly belonged to another person before you – the bed is larger than you’d expected, with crisp white sheets and red silks hanging from the frame on all sides. The dark, mahogany wood is engraved with all sorts of geometric and floral patterns, and during the rare stretches of solitude that you’re afforded, you find yourself running your fingers over the shapes and committing them to memory.

The bed had actually not belonged to the room’s previous occupant – instead, the bed had been the one Douma designated as his own, before your arrival. It’d been the bed he’d lounge about in during the day, bedding nearly every woman and man in the compound between those very sheets. He’d had it moved into the room he keeps you in a week or so after your arrival, deciding that if he was to spend so much time in your space, he might as well be comfortable while doing so.

(And though it hadn’t been his intention, there’s something oddly pleasing about seeing the way you visibly sink into the mattress most evenings, your constant fearful expression and scowl slowly melting away at the sheer luxury of the bed. Pleasing, and satisfying, really, because something that almost resembles pride eats away at him when he thinks of how he’s the one providing you with such comforts, and is thus the reason for your joy.)

The room itself is rather small, with four plain white walls and a few decorations and trinkets left behind by the previous occupant. A select few photographs and letters had been left behind, and you’d placed them all in a small corner of the room, taking care to not damage them but unable to look at them without feeling ill.

You hardly ever leave the room – Douma doesn’t allow you to freely roam the compound, and you are strictly forbidden from having any visitors aside from himself and a select few trust cultists that he keeps very, very careful tabs on.

(There’s the small, ever-present sense of worry that you’ll find comradery or friendship among one of the attendees, so he’s careful to keep them uncomfortably aware of their purpose, of how they aren’t to speak to you unless absolutely necessary, how they aren’t to spend any time at all in your space unless ordered by Douma himself, how your life is much, much more precious than theirs.)

But truth be told, you’ll be grateful for any and every attendant that spends even a few seconds with you – because Douma will be an always present, unwavering presence in your life once you’re stolen away. He finds you fascinating, and there’s something addicting about the responses you give to him. It’s addictive enough that he finds himself by your side every moment he can spare, always staring at you with that odd, small smile that never seems to reach his eyes, his voice always chipper and cheery even as he tells you the most gut-wrenching, revolting things.

And as time passes, Douma becomes not only clingy, but touchy. His hands are freezing cold when they touch you, skin like ice as he cups your cheek or grasps your wrist or places his hand on the small of your back.

He has no concept of personal space; his breath (cold just like his fingers) fans against your skin as he stands behind you, your back pressed snugly against his chest as he murmurs in your ear that you’re shaking, are you afraid? Probably a good choice, considering how weak you are.

He’s making you sit in his lap as he forces you to tell him about your old life, listening to the shaky intake and exhale of your breath and tut-tutting at you, telling you to stop lying, pretty thing, I can hear your heartbeat soaring. We wouldn’t want poor Mimiko outside to pay for your deceptions, would we?

And once he begins getting truly needy for your time and attention, Douma is absolutely not afraid to escalate your relationship to something more physical, something more intimate. He absolutely will force himself onto you, that same devoid smile on his lips while his eyes shine with something that you can’t – and won’t – put a finger on.

He views you as his personal play thing, his personal human, and his clinginess and inability to leave you alone for more than an hour at a time is proof of it. And as he grows more and more attached, the desperation to be around you starting to cloud his mind and make him angry, irritable, enraged when something keeps him away from you, he’ll only become more suffocating, more desperate for your every thought, look, and feeling to revolve solely around him him him.

It’s the least you could do, really, considering he’s been kind enough to spare you.

(Though there’s always the lingering question of how sweet your blood tastes, if you’re as soft and tender as he expects, if when he sinks those teeth of his down into the sensitive flesh of your thigh you’d squeal his name like he hopes you would…)

PUNISHMENTS:

If you don’t count his constant, overwhelming presence, Douma doesn’t really punish you. He’s actually fairly lenient – he certainly doesn’t allow you to roam around the compound on your own, nor does he allow you to speak with anyone aside from himself, but you’re allowed to choose what clothing you wear, how you style your hair, when you wake up and when you go to bed.

And really, Douma likes to point out just how much freedom he gives you – when you’ve got an attitude, anger and irritation welling up in your chest and bubbling over, Douma will simply pout at you, telling you that you don’t get to be mean, you got breakfast this morning. And while he doesn’t explicitly say it, the tone of his voice and the way he’s looking at you are reminders that yes, he’s keeping you here against your wall, but he’s oh so generous and feeding you well. He’s giving you food, shelter, and attention from a being much superior to yourself – and frankly, you’re a spoiled little brat for not realizing exactly what a gift he’s giving you.

He’s not the biggest fan of actually saying those words to you though, if only because he likes to keep up the charade of being a happy-go-lucky man, wanting you to feel and acknowledge that yes, he's powerful, but he also treats you with kindness and a level of care and adoration that you should really be beyond grateful to be receiving.

It’s a matter of pride, more than anything else – and your ‘punishments’ are also a matter of pride. It takes quite a bit to anger Douma. This is because he lives for your responses – he’s teasing you and pushing you right to the edge on a constant basis, loving the way you grit your teeth or yell at him or try to ignore him. Though, he admittedly likes that last option significantly less. It’s entertaining for the first few minutes watching you clench your jaw and pretend like he’s not poking your stomach or kissing over the shell of your ear or threatening your family members, but if you hold out and remain silent and unresponsive, he’ll eventually just pout and give up, sighing dramatically and telling you fine, have it your way.

You won’t ever actually get your way, of course, but Douma will manage to finagle some variation of your request with his own touch to it.

You’re asking for your freedom? Absolutely not, but he will get you a pretty pair of binoculars so you can see outside the laughably small, iron-barred window in your room!

You want supplies for your hobbies because you’re going insane with boredom? A bit harsh considering he’s always keeping you company, but he’ll buy you whatever your little heart desires, no matter how expensive or difficult to find. You just have to teach him how to use them, okay? You’ll do your little hobbies with him, or not at all.

And so, Douma doesn’t automatically see you lashing out or being rude as a negative. Instead, it often only endears him more to you, enjoying the way you’re so very human in your inability to control your emotions.

But while he doesn’t respond negatively to your bad behavior, there are two things which truly do upset him.

The first upset is predictable – your attempts at escape. You talking about running away is one thing; lofty plans and ideals you talk about in front of him while he nods along and coos at you, pointing out each and every flaw in your thinking and explaining in detail the many ways he could stop you.

It’s mildly amusing when you’re just putting on a face and acting like you want to leave, but the moment you actually attempt it, that amusement is shifting to irritation, his eye twitching slightly because oh, how stupid could you really be? You obviously don’t realize that you’re stuck square in the center of a rather large compound filled with people who would absolutely kill for Douma, and would do anything he so desired even if it meant ignoring your screams and cries to return you back to their leader.

It’s frustrating to him, if only because it’s a mess he has to clean up, and there’s always the repercussions of having to figure out who helped you orchestrate the whole endeavor, because he knows you can’t escape out of this room on your own. And while killing the sympathizer is fun and leaves him stained in blood and shivering in delight, it’s precious time that he could be spending with you.

But really, the one thing that truly upsets him is when you hurt yourself. He can hurt you – he can drag his nails down your pretty skin and leave beads of blood in their wake. He can pull at your hair until you’re tearing up, the look on your face pained and sending blood directly between his legs, your expression delicious and oh so arousing. He can even bend you over and smack his hand against the smell of your ass over and over and over until your bruised, welts decorating the pretty skin and your eyes barely open.

He can do all that, but why the fuck do you think you can? You’re his toy – his. You aren’t your own person anymore; you’re his plaything, and as a result your body belongs to him. Injuring yourself is equivalent to damaging his personal property, and if there’s one thing Douma can’t stand, it’s others taking what’s his.

And so, to truly see him mad, you must purposefully injure yourself in some capacity – though you have to get creative, considering how little time you have for yourself.

It's late at night when you decide to do it. It’s one of the rare evenings where Douma isn’t caging you in his arms while he commands you to sleep, eyes wide open and staring straight at you as he patiently waits for you to fall into unconsciousness. He’d said he had business to attend to tonight – whatever that meant, though you had a good feeling you’d rather not know.

It’s strange without him, even as loathed as you are to admit it. The room – not your room, never your room – is oddly quiet without him, missing the ominous, overwhelming presence that he brings with him with every visit. Some part of you almost finds it lonely, though you can’t exactly say that you miss him. Just the contact with another person – if you can even call him that.

Shaking your head from the thoughts, you stand up and slowly pad your way over to the window. It’s high, too high for you to reach just on your own. Grabbing the chair sitting at the small, never-used desk in the corner of the room, you’re quick to place it under the window and climb up.

The view isn’t anything particularly special – just looking out onto the courtyard in what you’re guessing is the center of the complex, the array of traditional style houses sitting in even, neat rows along the sides. It’s pretty, in a suburban, monotonous way, and it makes you frown. This place feels like death, and the sight only resolves your desire to escape.

Sitting outside the hole cut into the wall as the window are iron bars, surely placed there to limit anything from coming inside. And, of course, to limit anything from going outside, too. With a small breath, you reached up and carefully clasped your fingers around the bar second from the right.

You’d noticed the last time you’d done this that the metal was incredibly loose – wiggling in its joint easily, and likely unsecure enough to complete pull off of its hinges. Biting your lip, you slowly increased shaking the metal, trying to dislodge it and create a space large enough for you to squeeze through.

You paused every so often, worried that the slight clanging noise would draw attention to your room and alert anyone outside of what you were doing. That wouldn’t do – this escape plan hinged entirely on your ability to get out undetected, as you had no doubts every follower would immediately report to Douma and you could kiss your chances of escape goodbye.

It’s difficult to hold back the small exclamation of relief when you finally feel the iron break free, the weight of it in your hand making you swallow thickly. Okay, now to just push myself through…

The opening looked just big enough, but it would still be a tight fit.

Pushing off with one leg, you manage to get your knee on the sill. Scrunching your brows, you shift your weight to push off the back leg, wobbling slightly as you find your balance on both knees. Now, for the difficult part.

Come on, you murmur as you inch forward, gingerly pushing your head through the opening and glancing around, eyes squinting in the darkness but not seeing anyone outside. With a deep breath, you pushed further, one hand coming up to reach through the railing, managing to get your shoulder outside, pushing yourself forward and letting the smallest smile grace your lips because oh god, you might actually make it-

You barely feel the cold hand wrapping around your ankle until it’s yanking you back. Harshly.

You fly backwards with a small scream, the iron of the next bar over scratching at your arm and warm, wet blood immediately trickling down your forearm. Your back hits the mattress and knocks the air out of you, making your vision dizzy for a moment before you see it. Him.

Normally Douma sports a small, rather nonchalant smile around you. It’s chilling because there’s so little emotion in his eyes, almost looking like two pretty voids in the center of his face. It’s disturbing, but if you don’t look at it it’s not too terrible.

This, though? The way he’s looking at you right now? It’s enough to have you scrambling to the back of the mattress, your lips parting and closing like a fish, fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins so quickly that it hurts.

He’s not smiling. No, instead his lips are completely, utterly flat – a straight line that has tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. He doesn’t even look angry, really – just utterly emotionless, not a shred of anything on his face for you to read.

What are you doing? Even his voice is eerily neutral, completely monotone.

I-I was just – I – um, you can’t even think of a plausible excuse, the situation and Douma’s reaction leaving you too fried and afraid to form a coherent thought.

He’s not having that, though. He walks closer to the bed, each step sounding like a clap of thunder. His expression is still that same flat line, even as he crawls onto the bed, that hand once again wrapping around your ankle.

What are you doing? Say it, or I’ll slit your throat.

And you believe him – enough to start stuttering out apologies and slurred, panicked admissions of trying to escape. Your voice is raising an octave, fear palpable in the air, but it doesn’t slow Douma down as he drags your body closer to him by the ankle, seeming to have absolutely no difficult even as you claw at the sheets and writhe in his grasp.

Please, ‘m sorry, I just want to go home, I can’t – You’re scaring me Douma, please stop – You’re babbling, and apparently he’s decided he’s had enough as his grip moves from your ankle to your neck faster than you can see.

You’re pressed against the wall before you know it, strong, cold fingers pressing against your windpipe as he stares at you. He’s uncomfortably close, his body only an inch or so away from yours, those damn eyes of his the only thing you can see. He’s still expressionless, even as you gasp for air and claw at his fingers. He doesn’t budge though, seeming to not even notice your attempts at escape.

You must think I’m stupid, he starts, those eyes never looking away from yours. They don’t even seem to blink, even as you wheeze out his name.

You must think I’m an imbecile if you think you can escape me. I’m insulted.

His grip tightens.

You will never escape me. There is nowhere that you can go that I cannot follow.

His grip moves higher up, cutting off even more air.

There is nowhere that you can hide that I cannot find you.

Now the left side of his lip quirks up, ever so slightly.

There is no one who can help you that I cannot kill.

Suddenly he’s leaning in, head traveling down to your right arm, his inhale audible even though you can’t see his face.

Something wet and cold pokes at the still fresh scratch on your arm, and it makes you wince. You can’t feel much of anything now, though, as small dark spots in your vision form, desperation truly starting to take over.

Something akin to a groan fills your ears as Douma’s lips latch onto your skin, tongue poking and prodding at the cut, nudging its way inside and making the last bit of your air rush out of your throat as a scream, the pain starting to register even as the dots fill your entire vision, unconsciousness taking a hold of you as you go limp under his hand.

Douma pauses at the feeling of you passing out, eyes slowly looking up to your face, before removing his hand and letting you fall to the hard floor. Your body hits the ground with a deciding slump, and Douma pokes at your shin with the tip of his shoe.

Humming, he licks the remaining blood off of your lips. You’d been stupid, really, to think that he didn’t know about this escape plan of yours. You’re not nearly as good at pretending as you think you are, nor are you as subtle at glancing at the window as you seem to think. All those nights spent with you on his chest or spooned against him, the smell of your hair filling his nostrils again and again as he rutted against your ass, his breath tickling your neck, and you still thought he couldn’t tell that you kept glancing to the window, obviously wishing to crawl out and never return.

His fists clench, and he kicks, hard. Narrowly avoiding your leg and instead decimating the wooden nightstand next to it.

Stupid human, he growls out, swallowing the last bit of your blood.

And the next morning, when you awake with a splitting headache and bruises blossoming along your neck, Douma will be right there waiting for you. That fake, plastered-on smile sits on his lips again, and the hand he rests of your arm grows tighter.

Good morning, he starts, voice the usual chipper, overly saccharine tone. Thank me for not killing you. Go on.

And as you look towards the window – with fresh, gridlocking bars newly placed on both the inside and outside, you can only feel your eyes water, lips parting into the shape of thank you.

Douma’s smile grows for just a moment, something dancing behind his eyes.

Ah, there you go.

OVERALL DANGER:

9/10

As Douma’s darling, your biggest concern is really to keep Douma entertained and appeased. His obsession hinges on his amusement surrounding you, and although something that resembles the closest thing to love he can manage does form for you, there’s something deeply wrong with him.

He views you as an object – something he can possess and own, and the idea of having you all completely to himself is something that makes him giddy, eyes closing and something settling in the base of his gut because god, he wants you.

Your time with him will be characterized by his constant presence, those eyes of his always locked on you and you only. He can’t be away from you for long periods of time – he grows restless, his knee bouncing and his fingers fidgeting as he idly thinks of seeing you, missing the way you always look so sour when he pulls on your hair, how your eyes get all big and wide when he compliments you, the bashfulness obvious on your face even as you try to hide it. You’re endearing, really, a pet project of his that he slowly begins to feel more for, a creature that he finds himself holding in disturbingly high regard, despite your lowly status as a mere human.

But really, what makes Douma so dangerous is the fact that he is so detached from normal love and affection. This leads to him having no qualms about kidnapping you, isolating you, toying with you, and even hurting you when he sees fit.

Your existence becomes solely dictated by his whims – you’ll be what he wants you to be, and if you don’t, he doesn’t mind pushes and molding you into what he wants. Even if it means breaking a few bones, biting off a few chunks of flesh, or even turning you into a blood-thirsty demon, if he so desires.

Your life is no longer yours – it’s his, and the sooner you learn that, the better. After all, Douma can be almost sweet when he’s trying – so really, just let yourself be deluded into believing that this is what’s best for you.

It’ll be better for you that way, and who knows – maybe one day you’ll even find yourself grateful for his company, just as he so ardently reminds you. Just as he so frequently demands you to be.

[owls-longings]

Yandere!Jiaoqiu: Short Drabbles and headcanons

Warning: Dark content, Yandere, Force-Feeding, Drug Use, Non-Con, Kidnapping, Forced Marriages, Very unhealthy romantic relationships and power dynamics

(Written before 2.5)

Some short drabbles about Jiaoqiu that I wrote a while back- before it was kept in my vault of a head for a long time LMAO. Feel free to let me know what you think!

Yandere!Jiaoqiu who loves force feeding you his cooking.

He practically shovels spoonful after spoonful of his food down your throat, even managing to hit the back of your throat with it.

You can only cough and splutter, but all it does is give him more openings to shove another spoonful in.

By the end of each feeding session, you're just wretching and sobbing.

It burns-- it hurts-- yet, despite your incessant sobbing, Jiaoqiu merely looks into your teary eyes with a cold smile.

"You know- I wouldn't have to do this, if you would just behave and eat your meals." He says as he picks up the cutlery and empty bowl; walking out and leaving you writhing on the floor.

Yandere Jiaoqiu who keeps you drugged all the time while he's away

You don't even get the luxury of relishing the time away from him. You wake up, then get drugged out of your mind for several hours.

By the time the drug wears off-- he's already come home, and then it's all about spending time with him until it's time for you to sleep again.

Rinse and repeat. Again. And again. And again.

You find that you dream a lot in these drugged out states. You dream of being as far away from him as possible.

You dream of your home, your family, and your friends.

But it scares you that as days, weeks and months go by, the faces of your loved ones in your dreams; your only solace in your shitty living arrangements with Jiaoqiu, are growing increasingly blurred with each passing dream.

Yandere!Jiaoqiu who uses your family as leverage to strike a one-sided deal

You beg the Foxian to let you go see your family-- even just once. You bargain and plead, promising him that he can accompany you, and you wouldn't run away anymore. Just please, let you see them again.

"Please, I'll do anything-- I just need to see them one more time--"

You should have known you were practically making a deal with a demon as he smiled at your helpless plea; how he had so eagerly agreed to make the arrangements.

The next time you see your family, they're crying and congratulating you on your wedding with Jiaoqiu.

Singing him lavish praises of how your marriage to him has helped them so much. Didn't you know? Jiaoqiu has been providing them with a seemingly endless supply of credits and helping with medication you could only dream of affording with your previous, meager paycheck.

Your parents are practically sobbing tears of joy as they talk about how they can finally afford to send your brothers to a prestigious school.

And as they cry and thank Jiaoqiu profusely, you can feel despair creeping up on you as you realize this man has your entire family wrapped around his finger.

"If you want them to stay happy; you'll have to behave more from now on, no?"

He practically whispers into your ear with a chuckle.

[pinkanonwrites]

Washrack Academy

Jetstorm and Jetfire have a lot of questions about humans. But you? You just want to take your shower in peace.

TFA Jetfire, TFA Jetstorm, and Reader, no ships but it's implied Jetfire has a little crush on the reader, human reader, non-sexual nudity, is it still voyeurism if it's mostly fueled by curiosity? probably, AFAB Reader with GN Pronouns, alien anatomy discussions

"You know, humans are being much more hygienic than Sentinel says they are being."

You rolled your eyes, hefting your small duffel bag further up your shoulder. "Yeah, well Sentinel doesn't know as much about humans as he thinks he does. Most people I know shower every other day at the very least. We aren't big fans of being dirty."

"But now you are being extra dirty!" Jetstorm loomed over you with a cheeky grin, running a huge metal digit over the top of your head. A slick of motor oil came with it, sending another disgusted shiver down your spine at the gooey sensation. "Bumblebee maybe needs to working on power steering! And not splashing human friends with drinks of celebration."

Being a human liaison representing the city of Detroit on Cybertron was already a job way outside of the normal parameters of your career, and the stress was leaving you pretty wired. But Bumblebee accidentally tipping an oversized can of motor oil off a table and directly onto your head while showing off just had to be the final nail in the coffin. In front of a whole bunch of big important Autobots and everything.

Now you were being flanked on either side by Sentinel Prime's personal squadron (a gig they eagerly volunteered for and a choice both you and Sentinel had little say in) as they showed you to whatever the Cybertronian equivalent of an army base locker room was so you could get cleaned up. 

"And motor oil not to be damaging your fluffy organic fibers?" Great, now Jetfire was poking at your greasy hair too. At least he had half a processor to keep his igniters off while he did.

"It's called hair. And it'll only damage it if I leave it in too long. Plus, it's really bad for my skin."

"Good for it not to be doing badness to hair! Yikes for it to be doing badness to skin. So sensitive, little organics. Must be very hard!"

"You're telling me, bud."

"Here! Coming this way." Jetstorm gestured for you to follow him through a tiled doorway. The room beyond looked remarkably similar to the locker room you'd had in high school, though blown up to a cartoonish scale. "We have tiny washrack for mini-bot sizes. Maybe too big for you still, but is better than nothing!"

He wasn't exaggerating, the handles for the mini-bot sized faucets were still a good two or three feet out of your reach. 

"Where do you even put your towels? Your soap?" You glanced around but failed to find any bench or wall divot suitably placed for setting your things down. "Is there anywhere I can set my bag?"

"Just be putting bag into subspace! Easy for peasy!" A small compartment popped open on Jetstorm's chest, and from it he procured… a metal scouring pad? A giant one, about the size of a large restaurant platter. If the situation weren't so incredibly absurd already, you might've gotten a chuckle out of the idea of a robot using a Brillo pad as a loofah.

"Yeah, we don't… humans don't have that." You said instead. Because this situation was, in fact, incredibly absurd.

Jetfire and Jetstorm looked at each other, mirrored expressions of visible confusion. Then, they both shrugged.

"Being a human…"

"...Is very difficult!"

"Look, just- can one of you hold it for me? Please?"

"For certain! I will be best at human wash rack supplies holder job! Be counting on me." You dropped your duffel bag into Jetfire's cupped hands and wrenched it open. Grabbing your various bottles of hair product and a large towel from within, you lined them up on the floor along the wall and hopefully just beyond the reach of the shower's spray. But as you moved for the bottom of your shirt to pull it off, you felt the prickle of two pairs of optics staring just a little bit too hard at your body.

"Are you two just gonna… watch me? You can wait outside, you know."

"We are to be protecting you from curious bots! And make sure you do not do the snooping or the wandering off." Jetstorm insisted.

"Are you gonna do that while staring me down? A little privacy, please." Was it ironic to ask for privacy in a locker room? Probably. But most people had the decency not to stare while someone was getting undressed. 

Most people. Maybe that sentiment didn't extend to twelve foot tall transforming robot soldiers.

"Staring? Who is doing the staring? Certainly not us goodness bots!" 

"No, no! We would never be the staring! Especially not at soft and squishy little human frame!"

Both brothers rushed to cup a servo over their optics, continuously asserting their supposed innocence all the while. You sighed, peeling your way out of your slick and permanently stained clothes and letting them fall to the ground in an oily heap.

"Well I don't know how it is on Cybertron, but on Earth staring at people in the locker room is what we call 'bad manners.' You two ever heard of those?"

"We will being so very manners-filled! No staring from us at you, big promise." Jetfire insisted, carefully depositing your bag into his subspace as he brought his other servo up so they were both covering his faceplate.

"Though do not be trying to do the sneaking off while we are look-away! That would be also called 'bad manners.'" Added Jetstorm with a cheeky thumbs-up.

"I'm not going to go sneaking around your base naked, so you don't need to worry about that. Now could one of you get the water for me, please?"

As Jetstorm felt along the wall and cranked the water to partial blast, you swear you heard him ask his brother 'But what is "naked" meaning?' The hiss of the showerhead quickly covered it, though, and you decided you'd rather focus on getting clean before you struggled to explain the foreign concept to the pair of ridiculous twins. The water ran just hot enough to make your skin tingle as you lathered your hair with shampoo, vigorously scrubbing the motor oil free from your scalp. It'd probably take more than a few rinses to get everything out, you'd have to ask Professor Sumdac to bridge you some more toiletries way sooner than you'd originally planned. Maybe Sari could pick some up for you on her next trip home?

But as you lathered your hair up for the fourth (maybe fifth?) time, you couldn't help but notice a quiet, metallic buzzing that could just barely be heard over the hiss of water. It paused and fizzed in a rhythmic pattern, not all too dissimilar from Morse Code. It would stop for a moment, before picking up again, slightly lower pitched this time. It sounded almost like… a conversation.

"If you've got something to say, you can say it out loud." You called them out. Jetfire startled at the sound of your voice, his own sounding slightly strained. 

"What? But we are such quiet being!"

"You're doing that… that 'EM field' thing. Where you talk to each other with your brains? I've heard Bee and Bulkhead do it before. So, c'mon. What do you want to know?"

He clammed up, absentmindedly scuffing one of his pedes against the tiled floor. Jetstorm, meanwhile, had a sly grin growing across his faceplate. He raised his free servo up in the air like a student waiting to be called on.

"Actually, Jetfire is having a question!"

"I-I am not! Do not listen, brother is merely making funny joke!"

"No, no! Do not listen to him! Jetfire is very, very curious about human not having sp-MRMPH!"

A cacophony of metal on metal echoed through the wash racks as Jetfire tackled his brother to the wet tile, wrestling his servos over the other's intake to keep him quiet. Jetstorm grabbed for his brother's goggles and pulled him into a shaky headlock, even as Jetfire repeatedly kicked him in the knees with the flat of his pede. You scrambled to grab your towel, clutching it to your front as the two bots collapsed to the ground in an ear-splitting crash.

"Hey, HEY! Quit it! What the hell are you two doing?!"

Both of their heads snapped up at your tone, Jetstorm still looking mischievous while his brother had the decency to look a bit sheepish. He quickly pried Jetfire's servo off of his intake.

"Jetfire is wanting to know why humans do not have spike! You know, since he was doing the peeking."

"Y-You were also doing peeking! I know you were curious too!" Jetfire shot back.

"Maybe curious, yes, but you are obsessed! 'Oh, little humans are so soft and so squishy being! Why so warm? I want to be holding one!'"

"I am not sounding like that! You are making exaggeration!"

Jetfire seemed on the verge of tackling his brother again, so you quickly stepped in. "Okay, geez, look. I will answer one, ONE! Question each. And only if you stop hitting each other. That's it. I don't have the energy for this today."

The two bots awkwardly clambered back to their feet, Jetstorm looking down at you with a playful grin while Jetfire seemed to be looking anywhere but your unclothed frame.

"Brotherrrrr?" Jetstorm teased. "Would you like to be going first?" 

Jetfire dignified his brother's teasing with a sharp elbow to the side, but spoke anyway. "S-Sorry to be peeking when you said not, but, um, do humans not have- uh, not have spike? Or is it hidden? Maybe not pressurized? If embarrassing you don't have to say. No biggee."

You furrowed your brow. 'Spike.' You don't think you'd heard any of the Autobots use that term before, at least not around you. Maybe it was a built-in weapon? Or some sort of specialized armor plating?

"I, uh, I don't know what a spike is. Sorry. Can you be… more specific?"

Jetfire let out a high-pitched sound, similar to heat escaping a tea kettle, while his brother only seemed to beam even brighter at his humiliated suffering.

"Ah, you know! Spike!" Jetstorm grinned. "Right here, above valve? Comes out like 'fssshh'? No modesty panel on you, so maybe just hidden away!" He made a bunch of vague motions in front of his crotch, and with a looming horror you started to catch on as he mimed the motion of something growing and rising up in front of his crotch plate. His modesty panel.

Holy shit they had robot dicks.

"N-No? No, I don't have a- a spike." You were doing your absolute best to stay focused on the conversation at hand, not think about… about the robot penis that apparently all Cybertronians had? "Humans, uh, most humans just have one or the other. The, um, the spike or the… the…"

"Valve?" Jetstorm happily supplied.

"Sure? I guess?!"

"Something new to be learned every day! Right, brother?" Jetstorm thumped his brother on the back with an open servo, while Jetfire was openly refusing to make eye contact with you. The temperature in the room seemed to peak by a few degrees, and based on the heat waves rolling off of Jetfire's body you had an inkling suspicion it was his doing, however unintentional it may be. "Anyways, my turn, yes? You said word 'naked'. What is 'naked' meaning?"

"Uh, y-yeah. Um, yeah. Sure." God, you did not have the mental fortitude to deal with these revelations today. "Naked just means you're not… covered up? Wearing clothes. There are some parts on a human that have to be covered in public, otherwise it's uh… inappropriate." Your only solace was that now you had some sort of comparison to make between Cybertronians and humans. "Like, you guys wouldn't walk around with your… your spike out? Same for humans."

"Ohhh…" They even had stunned realizations in unison. You'd almost consider it cute, if you weren't already so burnt-out.

"Yep, well, class is over. Can I please get dressed now? Preferably without being watched?"

"A-Ah! Yes, of course! So sorry! Here is things." Jetfire quickly fumbled your duffel out of his subspace, only for it to slip through his digits and hit the floor with a thud. Wincing, he turned to shove his brother from the room, calling over his shoulder to you as they went. "We will be watching door so no bots do peeking! Then there is no way we be seeing you naked, not even little bit! Seeing you in moment- but not naked! Just normal seeing!"

"O-Okay? I'll be out in… a bit." But they were already gone. Weird. Weird couple of bots. But hey, at least now you could dry your hair in peace.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  

"Very bumpy landing, brother." Jetstorm couldn't fight his mirthful grin as he stared down at his spark-twin, who was currently sitting with his back to the wall outside the wash racks, knee-joints pulled up tight to his chassis and faceplate hidden from view. "I may not be seeing exact same appeal you do, but humans are verrrrrry entertaining being. That human especially so!"

"I wish to be offline." Jetfire lamented. "So awkward, very very uncool. They will never be speaking to me again."

"Do not be so downer, brother! They answer questions very nice, and do not even yell when you peeking at their array!"

Jetfire let out another pathetic wail. "Do not be reminding me! Me, caught peeking? Would rather scrub every rivet on Omega Supreme than be that embarrassing again." He slammed his helm against the tops of his knee-joints a few times for good measure, a loud, echoing clanking reverberating down the hall. "Why are little humans being so soft? A-And when covering self, why are little peeks of soft bits around towel so- so erotic?"

Jetstorm cackled, patting his brother atop the helm with his servo. "And to think, we thought being human is hard. Sounds like liking human is much, much harder!"

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Your Deathclaw Boyfriend (Male Reader Version)

Male Yandere Deathclaw x Male Reader (CW: Noncon, Inhuman genitals, double penetration, ass eaten like it’s groceries, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 920 (Hope you guys enjoy this, I wrote and edited hastily so I hope you can forgive any errors.)

It had been an extremely stupid idea, exploring the wasteland solo with no group. But you had never been one for traveling with other people, you preferred scavenging alone, and it had a few benefits. No betrayals from companions looking for the right moment to stab you in the back and you maintained  the ability to move stealthily. You could always detect a loud group of unruly bandits, they weren’t exactly subtle. But finding a scavenging group to scour the wastes with or maybe even settling down completely in a relatively safe settlement would have prevented the fate that ultimately befell you. You had been exploring a small cave that looked like it may have some loot, old long dead people stashed all kinds of nice stuff in places like this. You should have known something was wrong immediately by the odd smell that seemed to permeate the air wafting out of the entrance, but it could have been anything so you continued cautiously. That was your first mistake. Your second mistake was seeing what was some kind of nest with large, sparkling gems at the base forming a large circle along with smoothed stones and bit of shining metal, all with hay, feathers, and clothes at the top. It was obviously bedding, but whatever it was that slept here wasn’t present then. So you decided to nab a couple of the large gemstones before making a hasty exit. Unknown to you the maker of the nest had seen you enter his home and was silently stalking you as you approached his bedding. And he was thrilled that his scent marking had led you into his home and was even more excited when he saw you touch the stones he had collected to attract a mate, it was a clearly an indication that you were receptive to being with him. You had gotten closer and kneeled down in front of the nest and placed a hand on one of the gems, ready to snatch it up, but suddenly you were jerked backwards and lifted up several feet into the air. You were being held by an alpha deathclaw with black and green glowing skin. As you thrashed wildly trying to escape you were surprised to hear him speak. “Ah, tiny mate-thing, Grogth is so happy you were attracted to my home~  Didn’t expect a human to be interested but am so so excited!” His voice was deep and beast-like but he spoke fluently. “No! I was just… exploring!” You didn’t want to admit to having been about to steal his gems. “Awe, you’re so shy! That’s okay, Grogth knows how to be gentle.” If you could have reached your weapon you would have, but he quickly tore through your clothing and tossed away all your supplies before placing you carefully in his nest on your back. He crouched down and brought you to the edge of the bedding and gently spread your legs, ignoring your attempts to kick him away and attributing all of your resistance to first time jitters, fully convinced that this was what you wanted. Why else would you have been at his nest if you didn’t want to be mated? He lapped eagerly at your cock and balls, at first he was surprised to see them between your legs, thinking only a female would want to be his mate and not being able to tell between a clothed human male or a clothed human female, but he was not the least bit deterred. After all, he was a large and powerful mate and he had an awesome nest, he could never blame you for wanting to be his cute partner. Humans were so tiny and you obviously needed his protection. Maybe that was why you were so shy, you were worried Grogth would reject you if he knew you were male. He couldn’t let his precious new mate think that! So he made sure to give your delicate human cock lots of love, slowly licking up your shaft, wrapping his tongue around it and stroking it with his tongue until it was nice and hard. Then he dove his mouth between your cheeks and slid his strong tongue into your entrance, making sure to apply plenty of spit to make you good and lubed up. You twitched and writhed as his tongue massaged your prostate.  And once he deemed you nice and well lubed your legs were raised and both his cocks were thrusting in and out of your tight hole.   True to his word he was as slow and as gentle a lover as he could possibly be, nuzzling into your neck and telling you how you were such a good boy for him and so very perfect at taking his cocks as he bred you. Despite his tenderness, with the sheer size of both of his cocks penetrating you deeply pain was unavoidable. Though it was not unbearable and after a while as more and more of his precum lubricated your ass it became very pleasurable. It did not take too long for you both to cum hard, after which he held you lovingly as you panted and tried to recover. There was no way you would ever escape from him, your weapons were not strong enough and you didn’t have it in you to hurt Grogth anyway when he wasn’t purposefully malicious, and if you ran away he would track you down. This was your life now, and you might as well accept it.   

[lafleshlumpeater]

Heyy could I maybe request something of Luke Castellan x child of posideon!reader? Maybe like reader was watching Luke train and was like “oh shit thats hot” and is just completely flustered because of their boyfriend and it just gets steamy from there- if you catch my drift. Possibly could reader be gender neutral and afab? And maybe reader has a bit of a thing for choking and Luke finds out? Thats a lot sorry for that lol

ty for the request x

not proofread

Warning: Mentions of weapons, r calls luke daddy towards the end, choking, sub/dom themes- lmk if I missed any

Requests are always open <3

luke castellan masterlist

Luke was training. Normally, this would prove to be entertaining as his training sessions were filled with banter and a lot of laughter (since he swordfought with Percy a lot, and something about watching your boyfriend and brother taunting each other was hilarious) but this time he was focused on violently slashing up dummies. And due to the lack of intimacy you two had suffered from lately since either one of you always had some important task to do, you found this incredibly, incredibly hot.

As you stood there holding his ice- cold water bottle, you shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot. How could you not find the view attractive? 

Sweat plastered his platinum blond hair to his head, and small rivulets of sweat lazily trickled down his muscular arms and forehead. He was wearing a thin, white vest which didn’t help matters, as this meant you could clearly see the outline of his abs and pecs. As his hands- oh, his beautiful, beautiful hands, with their long veins and rough skin- drove his sword into the dummies again and again, slaughtering them into shreds, you suddenly felt a lot hotter than you had been ten minutes ago… and it had nothing to do with the outside temperatures.

As the last dummy was sacrificed and sword sheathed again, Luke sauntered his way over to where you were standing somewhat awkwardly.

“Darling,” he greeted, before accepting the water bottle you offered him before chugging at it eagerly, unaware of the impact the nickname had on you. After he was done, he looked at you; taking in the lip biting and the anxious squirming.

“Babe?”, he questioned, “Are you okay?”

You nodded, but he was not satisfied.

“Look at me.”

Tilting your chin to him so it was impossible for you to evade eye contact any longer, he took in your mottled pink cheeks and lust- blown eyes. His mouth rounded in a silent ‘oh’, and cupped your chin.

“Oh, baby,” he cooed.

You squirmed even more, his subtle dominating behaviour sending an even more powerful wave of heat to your core. “Don’t.”

He smirked, and whispered into your ear. “Or what, dolly?”

Shuddering, you meekly attempted to push him away.

“Luke.”

You had thought it would come out to sound like a warning, but if anything it was closer to a desperate moan, or even a whine. Although he was playing it cool, it turned Luke on more than anything that the sight of him just training was enough to make you needy for him. It was with this thought that he stopped teasing, and smashed his lips onto yours.

You parted your lips immediately, allowing access for his tongue to slip inside; you moaned, and you thanked all gods that it was muffled by Luke’s hot mouth. You didn’t even try to fight for dominance this time- you had already entered into your subspace due to the multiple nicknames he had addressed you with, and you were too far in to pull yourself out. His lips left yours, and your boyfriend began to trail wet, scraping kisses down your jaw and down your jugular, at which you cursed yourself for allowing a pitiful, whiny sound to leave your mouth.

“Hush, pretty,” he muttered, now smattering quick pecks into the hollow of your collarbone, leaving you gasping. He reached his hand up to your throat, squeezing slightly- not enough to hurt, but enough to cut your oxygen supply off.

You gasped desperately, and were now turned on to the point where you were willing to fuck him there and then, in the arena. You let out a strangled whined, not even trying to disguise it now, and rocked your hips desperately into nothing, conscious of the fact that your panties were now so wet they were ruined beyond the point of return. Just when your head was becoming fuzzier and fuzzier (both from slipping further into your subspace and from the lack of oxygen), Luke stopped his assault at your collarbone and released your throat. 

“Luke, please.”

He gulped, and you looked down to see a raging boner straining against the fabric of his pants. You looked back at him to see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down and his usual icy eyes now dark and stormy.

Grasping you firmly by your neck again, he whispered huskily into your ear:

“Fucking gods, I’m going to fucking destroy you.”

You gulped against his hand and let out a small, breathy moan. “Please, daddy.”

He constricted your throat tighter in his grasp, grunting- it was safe to say you were both in for a long night.

thanks so much if you read til the end xx feel free to request any time <3

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Hi! Can I have a peony with Matt where he is with a reader with chronic illness, perhaps fibromyalgia? 🫶🏻 I imagine he could sense her flare ups. Thank you!

a/n: As a fellow chronic pain girly, this was very cathartic to write. I tried to keep the painful areas generalized, I hope that’s ok!! Thank you for requesting, my dear! I hope this brings you some comfort!

A soft whimper ripped Matt from slumber, immediately raising his metaphorical hackles. Blinking the lingering sleep away, Matt surveyed the space for any threatening noises or unusual movements. The two of you were still alone, his arms loosely draped around you in the same way he'd passed out after patrol. In his hold, you grimaced, curling in on yourself with a whine.

If he hadn't expected this, the sharp tang of your distress would have been his first clue. But that acrid taste had been lingering all week—like static in the air before a storm. A warning of what was to come.

It wasn’t unusual for you to react this way as the seasons changed, your body adapting to the difference in temperature and humidity with the grace of a newborn moose on an ice rink. The myriad of pain receptors in your brain reacting to invisible stimuli, telling your brain that you needed to flee when the conditions were inescapable. You couldn’t protect yourself from the climate. But your nerve endings never got the memo.

Another mewl of agony drew him impossibly closer to you, as if he could shield you from the battle raging within. 

“I’m here, angel. Right here.” Hesitating mere millimeters from engulfing you in an embrace, Matt whispered as soothingly as he could, terrified of exacerbating your aches with touch. 

“Hurts, Matty. H-hurts so bad.” You cried softly, snatching a fistful of his shirt to tug him flush against you. Your forehead landed against his shoulder, your shallow breaths puffing over his collar.

“Then we’ll stay here today. We’ll stay here until it’s better.” He promised, cradling the back of your head with one hand. 

You drifted in and out of sleep for the majority of the day, eyes fluttering as you woke whenever a new jolt of discomfort shuddered through your body. Matt refused to leave your side, readily supporting you against his chest and eagerly shifting whenever the position failed to suit your needs. He rubbed circles into your sore back, tucking a heating pad against you in the hopes it would relieve some of the tension coiled in your muscles. When his powerful hearing sensed the first growls of hunger in your stomach, he ordered you soup and bread, supplying you after with painkillers and plenty of water. 

As the sunlight faded from his bedroom, you felt the tell-tale squeeze in your throat. Stifling a wave of tears, you pressed a kiss to his jaw. 

“What was that for, love?” He asked, his chin tipping down as he returned the peck.

“For everything.” You murmured, sniffling as he swiped a runaway tear away with his thumb. “Thank you for everything.”

“My pleasure, angel.” He hummed, adjusting the blanket until it properly covered your shoulders.

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — KATSUKI BAKUGOU. love island’s heart rate challenge.

about. you’re the bombshell katsuki tells her not to worry about. i just wanted to hop on the love island!bakugou trend because i finally managed to catch up and watch some.

warnings. suggestive. minors & ageless blogs do not interact. implied cheating but not really bc it’s love island, british slang lol, lap dances, making out, saucy outfits & fem!reader.

the girl bakugou couples up with has been worried about you from the moment you first stepped into the villa.

and rightly so.

you’ve had almost every boy charmed since your arrival. kirishima made you lunch on your first day, todoroki and sero eagerly followed you for a chat by the pool to express their interest in you at the party hosted in your honour on night one. but you, you had your sights set on katsuki bakugou.

as a bombshell, you’d been given the power to choose any guy you wanted to take on a first date to the sandy shores of Majorca — with crystal clear waters, fresh fruits and champagne as your wingmen. and while you had initially picked bakugou for his sharp jaw line, mysterious wine red eyes and obviously the rest of his good looks (those abs looked like they were taken straight from a magazine) you were pleasantly surprised by how warm he was. his eye contact was strong, the raspy lilt to his voice was both alluring and calming and he seemed genuinely interested in you as a person and not because you were his type down on paper (though that was a bonus).

you laugh and smile about where you grew up, your favourite things and your red flags and by the end of the date — bakugou is feeding you fruit and helping you stand with a warm hand wrapped around your wrist. “s’only been a few days so i’m not completely closed off,” he mumbles a little too fast. “i’m open to getting to know you.”

you want to get to know him too.

you don’t tell the girls this when they crowd around you with blinged out bikinis and coconut scented sunscreen to ask you how your date went. you’d rather keep your cards close to your chest, but you tell them how nice bakugou is, how sweet he is. some of the girls can instantly tell how much he’s into you. bakugou’s match doesn’t say much.

“obviously, i don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.” you expressed politely to the girls, your eyes doe eyed and bright, voice level and sweet. “i’ve come in at a difficult point, so i’ll just get to know everyone and let the boys know that the ball is in their court.” you don’t care if it makes you seem fake, but you don’t have any plans on leaving the island without bakugou on your arm.

the rest of the week is spent hopping between the boys, wearing all of your most sizzling swimsuits and pyjama sets — knowing that katsuki’s eyes are following you everywhere around the villa. he makes you iced coffees and scrambled egg with toast at breakfast times. he likes you and you like him and it’s causing problems with the girl the blonde is coupled up with.

on the fourth day, you get a text whilst in the pool — schmoozing with bakugou’s rival, deku. you announce it while he smooches up your ankle, making bakugou see flashes of red “islanders, it’s time to see how much of your heart truly belongs to the person you’ve coupled up with. tonight we’ll test that #heartratechallenge #peepthepulse!”

it’s then that you know exactly what to do. exactly how to get your man.

the producers supply you with a cute little number, one that you specifically request in bakugou’s favourite colour — the burnt orange lace of your corset and tiny shorts contrasting perfectly against your skin, accompanied by thigh high socks that squeeze around the plush flesh. your new best friend in the villa helps you smoke out your eyelids and touch up your makeup for the perfect look while she tells you that you look good enough to eat.

and you are. when it’s your turn to get those hearts racing — you stand before the boys at the fire pit who drink you in like a tall glass of water on simmering hot day and eat up your curves highlighted in your skimpy little outfit like men starved. you start with sero and make your way down the line, taking his finger into your mouth before kissing up his arm and right to his ear once you’re in his lap. todoroki digs his thumbs into your waist when you throw it back on him, kirishima let’s out a low whistle when you give him extra special treatment and a kiss on the neck (courtesy of being bakugou’s best friend), you let kaminari feel up and down your curves and nibble on your ear.

bakugou is rigid in his place by the time you reach his rival izuku — and you put on an extra show, pulling the man to a stand and grinding on him like nobody’s business. the boys holler and whoop and scream, practically sweating at the show you put on for them.

when you reach the blonde, you crawl into his lap tantalisingly slow, his rough hands instinctively coming up to cup your thighs — smooth over the skin as katsuki leans back in his seat and manspreads to make room for you.

“hi handsome,” you greet him with an innocent purr, running your hands up to the back of his neck to toy with his baby hairs.

you’re so close to him that he can feel your heat spread through his soul and burn him from the inside out — replacing any memory of the girl that he’s coupled up with. “hi gorgeous, what took ya so long?”

“i wanted to save the best for last.”

bakugou’s cheeks flood with a red that rivals his eyes when you grind down into him, calculatedly placing your lips inches away from his thumping pulse point. you grab at his hair and he grabs at you, practically groping one another as you ghost over his lips, tease him with the prospect of a kiss. he can hear his own heart thundering through his ears, the blood rushing to his head (and between his legs) making him too dizzy to even think. saliva pools in bakugou’s mouth as you make a mess of him without even trying, rolling yourself in his lap, shaking your ass against him, whispering filthy shit into his ear even though the mics can pick it up.

to wrap it up, when you slide off of katsuki, you pretend to drop something — standing up sensually to give him a little treat. his eyes clearly glued to your cute behind.

by the time your turn is over, katsuki knows that he’s done for. he wants you, and the way your vanilla perfume lingers on his sun licked skin. he’s in a daze for the rest of the game and doesn’t even notice the way his girl’s face twists at the sight of your lipstick prints all over him.

neither of you can hide your faces when deku begrudgingly announces “the girl that raised bakugou’s heart rate the most was….” and your name follows suit. you offer up your most winning smile, giving the blonde those “fuck me eyes.” that really get him going from across the fire pit and he can’t help but smirk back.

the boys clap for him but the girl he’s coupled up with gives you a look that could kill.

before it all comes to head, katsuki approaches you and your best friend by the bar — hands tucked into his lose cargo pants, silver dog tags around his neck glinting around his thick neck as he juts his head in the direction of the sunbed’s.

“can i pull you for a quick chat?” he grunts and you grin, offering him your hand despite the stares from the other islanders. you want katsuki bad, so you’ll be as controversial as you want — no matter who’s coupled up with who. “obviously, i like you, a lot.” he starts, helping you sit down, hand around your wrist and eyes full of admiration.

since you’ve come into the villa all he can think about is you, your laugh and your smile. to say his head was turned would be an understatement. katsuki bakugou is crushing hard on you.

“i think you can tell, ‘specially from how that challenge went.” it’s hard for him to open up like this and admit it to you, but your connection goes beyond your beauty and bakugou feels himself gravitating towards you more than his old match. he doesn’t want to pass this up, maybe lose you to izuku. “i said i was open, but i think… if you picked me. i’d be completely closed off for you. i want you like that. if you’d want me too.”

he fiddles with your hands nervously as you sit opposite him, all dolled up with shiny eyes and glossy lips under the evening sky. you think katsuki couldn’t get any cuter which only solidifies your choice.

“i’ve only ever wanted you since i came here, katsuki. i feel like we get each other,” inching forward until you’re a breath’s width apart, you tenderly brush a blonde lock away from his pretty face. “i wanna be yours just as much as you wanna be mine.” you add, quietly.

and you don’t care if your next move makes you shady or betrays anyone’s trust — but you came into the villa looking for love and you think you’ve genuinely found it within katsuki. so you lean forward, pressing your lips gently against his and squeak in surprise when bakugou reciprocates almost instantaneously. he cups the back of your head, deepening the kiss and pushing his tongue past the boundaries of your soft lips to tangle with your own.

“your lip gloss tastes like shit.” bakugou pulls away with a grumble, but his face breaks out into a wide and accomplished grin. “c’mere, kiss me again.”

“m’kay,” you tilt your head towards him, your own expression light with laughter, and place your hand over the one that cups your cheek. “i like kissing you.”

“i like kissing you too.”

smiling again, you squish bakugou’s cheeks. “so does this mean you’re picking me at the next re-coupling?”

katsuki nods dumbly, wanting nothing more to pull you into his lap. he knows they’ll be drama tonight, dealing with the last girl, his sleeping arrangements and yours — but he doesn’t care. he just wants to share this moment with you.

“i’ll pick you a thousand times over. at this re-coupling and every single fuckin’ one after.” katsuki reaffirms, knowing that he’s absolutely fucked up and in love.

and that’s enough for you to kiss him all over again.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[hannahbarberra162]

Squace of Hearts, Pt. 2

18+ MDNI on Ao3

Part one

I'm not completely satisfied with this. I don't know that one shots are for me - I kept adding detail for later chapters but there aren't going to be any more...unless?

You arrived at the ship bright and early, carrying two large cups of coffee bearing the Marine emblem on their sides. You portaled to the deck and found Ace surveying the damage. You were tired from staying up late with Ace the night before but you were in good spirits at least. 

“G’morning, sunshine.” You handed him his cup and drank deeply from your own.

“Thank god, this is just what I needed.” Ace eagerly accepted his coffee and chugged it.

“Wow, never seen someone drink coffee that fast, doesn’t that burn your - oh. You probably can’t get burned, huh?”

“Yeah, but I can’t get into Marine bases to grab fresh cups of coffee either, so things are pretty fair between us. How’d you know where to go in the base to get this, anyway? Weren’t you worried about being arrested?”

“Nah, it’s easy to predict where the guards will be. Besides, they only build like five or six different styles of bases unless the geography of the island prohibits it. So once you know the variations, they’re easy to navigate and not get caught.” Ace’s eyes went wide.

“Could you draw them for us? The different base styles? That would be helpful information for us to know, in case anyone gets imprisoned.” You hummed. Marine base information was something you kept to yourself in case you needed to either save your own hide or sell it if you needed cash and couldn’t use your power for whatever reason. 

“Maybe, but let’s fix the deck first. We’ll have bigger problems if Marco doesn’t see us working.” 

“You’re right, here, take this.” Ace had a large tome in his hand. “Marco gave this to me, he says that directions on how to fix scorched wood are listed under “wood repair.” You didn’t take the book, raising your cup of coffee.

“You do it! I’m still drinking my coffee, you chugged yours. I’m down a hand.” Ace shrugged and looked up the steps in the book. It would take time and effort but it could be done with sandpaper. You hadn’t worked hard in…a few years. You hadn’t missed it. Ace went below deck to find the needed supplies while you chilled on the deck. 

Other crew members were milling about, doing their chores. One of the Commanders from the previous night, Thatch, came up to you while you were waiting.

“So, you’re the reason for the deck looking like this?” he said with a grin.

“Not entirely. I provided the method, Ace provided the means.” You smiled back, hoping he wasn’t too mad about the ship. After all, they did have to sail on it. 

“I was gonna ask you about that - I’m so curious about your portals. For example, can you make one right now to the kitchen on the ship? Or could you make a never ending loop? There’s so many possibilities.” You were used to these kinds of questions, a lot of people found it interesting. You didn’t always answer them, but you didn’t see how it would hurt.

“For the never ending loop, yes. I’ve gotten stuck before and I’ve put people in them. The problem is that I can only make one set of portals at a time. So if I’m fighting and I put someone in the loop, I can’t use them until I remove at least one of the portals.” Being in the loop was so annoying, it had taken you 5 minutes to get yourself out of it. 

“So you do fight with them. I knew you weren’t just a mover. So, what are you really? Mercenary? Pirate? Thief?” He wasn’t quite suspicious but you’d walked right into that one. You held your free hand up defensively.

“No, no, really. I was on a few crews a long time ago, but I haven’t been a pirate in years. Sometimes I get into a tough spot and need to fight, but it doesn’t happen often. I really do move stuff for money. It’s easy money and I don’t have to work hard, which are my two favorite things. ” And yes, you stole, but not as a career. Thatch narrowed his eyes but still wore a smile. 

“Alright, I believe you for now. If you ever want to spar -” Ace stomped up to the deck with his gigantic-ass boots. 

“Thatch, leave her alone, she doesn’t want to train with you,” Ace said while reading the instructions. You took the sandpaper from under his arm. Ace looked serious about this work thing. He flipped back and forth between two pages. “Ok, we have the sandpaper but we’re going to need to go to the island at some point to get some oil for the wood. We don’t have that on board.” You nodded.

“Yes, sir!” You gave Ace a jaunty salute. He grinned at you and put the book down, taking some of the sandpaper. 

“Let’s get to it.”

~~~

An hour later and your forearms and shoulders were aching. Turned out you’d scorched more of the deck than you’d thought. You flopped down on the deck, throwing your sandpaper dramatically to the side. 

“That’s it, I think we’re finally done with the sanding.” You laid down flat on your back, hands behind your head. 

“But we have so much more work to do,” Ace whined. He laid down on the deck next to you. “We have to get mineral oil and put a buncha of coats on the wood, it’s gonna be a pain.”

“Surely we can take a short break? Even a stern taskmaster like yourself would permit a poor, weak woman like myself to have a break?” You turned to face him, pouting with your lip out. Ace snorted.

“You’ve never been weak. I had the broken nose to prove it. And the broken arm.”

“That one I won’t take credit for, that was all on your own. I didn’t tell you to go to that waterfall looking for flowers. And I certainly didn’t tell you to fall down it.” Ace had been a sweet little kid, bringing you presents from the woods and island. He’d show up, frowning, bruised and covered in bandages, and hand you a beautiful rock or a fistfull of flowers he’d found on his hunts with his brother. It had been the nicest thing anyone gave you for your entire childhood.

“Yeah, but it was worth it. You dove in after me and I got to see your nipples through your shirt,” Ace smiled. “I remember them well, it’s a fond childhood memory.” You laughed, you remembered him staring at your boobs like they were the One Piece. You were feeling the mood and interested in feeling him. It was still the morning, but you didn’t think fun should be limited to the night. 

“Doesn’t have to be a memory, cowboy. But we might want to find a better place, we’re on the deck surrounded by your crew.” You sat up, and pulled him to sit too. “Whaddya say we go find some mineral oil?” You raised a brow, opening a portal to the island. Ace grinned. 

~~~

You portaled to the main street of the island, which is what you could see from the boat. You grabbed Ace’s warm, calloused hand in your own smaller one and pulled him straight into a secondary portal, landing in your hotel room. It was easier to portal to places you’d already been - you just had to be within a reasonable range, you didn’t necessarily have to see where you were going. Ace, still getting used to going through portals, was a little disoriented as he landed with you in the hotel room. He made contact with the bed, almost falling into a seated position. You wasted no time, straddling his lap, facing him. He put his arms around your hips, hugging you to him. You’d barely even started touching but you were feeling flushed. You couldn’t help yourself - you smiled mischievously at him. This was almost nostalgic, you and him hiding away to kiss before being needed somewhere. He smiled back at you as you pushed his hair away from his face. 

“Now, let’s see if you remember what I taught you,” you said, bringing your face close to his. You didn’t need to close the distance, Ace met you halfway, pressing his lips to yours. Your eyes slid closed as you cupped his face in your hands, moving them to the back of his head and kissed him back. You opened your mouth, nipping his lip, and he opened his own. You dipped your tongue in his mouth, feeling his own rolling against yours. You kissed like that for a few minutes, just savoring the feel of Ace back in your arms. You felt his cock hardening in his shorts and you rocked on it, making him groan. You weren’t surprised Ace was a moaner, but it was welcome. You removed your hands from his face and pushed him down with a gentle tap to the shoulder. You laid down next to him, facing him. He slotted a leg through your own as he continued to kiss you - your neck, your jaw, your earlobe. Ace was peppering kisses along any available skin he could find. You sighed in pleasure.

“It seems you’ve learned a few things along the way,” you said. Your breath hitched as he bit where your neck met your shoulder, barely missing the necklace you were wearing. 

“Had a good teacher,” he rasped. He rolled you onto your back as his nimble fingers were unbuttoning your shirt, opening you up for his view. When you were bared to him, he took in the sight of you before he frowned in concentration as he fingered a small rock on a necklace you were wearing. It was a small but beautiful golden rock, glinting in the light. It clearly had no value other than sentimental.

“First time someone frowned when they saw me half naked,” you joked. His eyes flicked to yours.

“I gave you this rock,” he said, still fiddling with the chain around your neck. This time you weren’t blushing from the physical contact. You looked off to the side, turning your head away from him.

“Yeah well. I kept it.” You were embarrassed, which wasn’t something that happened to you often. You knew Ace had gone on to bigger and better things in life, and you didn’t want to seem like you were clinging to him or that you needed him. You’d just always liked it and had made it into a necklace pendant long ago. It was the only thing you’d kept from your childhood and you wore it every day. You didn’t like talking about your feelings and you didn’t want to start now. Ace took two of his fingers and turned you to face him once more. 

“I missed you too,” he whispered and kissed you again. This time it wasn’t leisurely and sweet like you’d been doing before. Ace kissed you like you were his last breath of air, frantically kissing you deeply while tearing off his clothes. You were rapidly taking your own off as you kissed him back just as needy. You felt like you were being consumed by him, the air between you and Ace was electrified. Soon there were no barriers between you, just the two of you naked and kissing on the hotel bed. Your hands were wound in his hair and his were beneath your ass, grinding himself on you while his tongue licked inside your ear.

As soon as your clothes were all off, Ace was a man possessed. He stopped kissing your mouth for a moment and looked down at your breasts. “Just as perfect as I remember,” he said, “been waitin’ years for this.” He dipped his head down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, hard. Your lower back arched off the bed as you keened, trying to bring your nipples even closer to his mouth. He popped one out before quickly licking the other, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud. He gently bit it between his front teeth, causing you to moan. He sucked it and laved it with his tongue while massaging your other breast in his large hand. “I don’t think you understand what a chokehold these had on my teenage years,” Ace told you. 

“I’m glad I was able to help you out,” you choked out, barely able to string a sentence together. You knew you were wet, you could feel it between your legs. Ace was still sucking on and biting your nipples, pushing your breasts together so he could access both easily.

“I’ve thought a lot about your tits over the years. There’s a lot I want to try,” he purred at you. 

“Just with my tits?” you asked. You hoped not.

“No, I’ve had some other questions I want answered too. I wanna know what you taste like.” Ace started kissing the underside of your breasts, slowly working his way down your stomach. You giggled as he kissed a ticklish spot. Ace looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Interesting, the invincible woman has a weak spot.” 

“A lot of weak spots for you.” You flushed even as you said the cheesy line. You didn’t know why it came out, Ace made you feel weird things. Ace laughed lightly and continued his journey down your eager body. He spread your legs and planted himself between them. He put his hands under the backs of your thighs and spread you even wider. 

“Fuck, you’re even prettier than I imagined,” he muttered, “so wet for me, so good for me.” You didn’t have time to respond before he dove tongue first into your pussy. He stroked the flat of his tongue up and down your slit, like he was trying to memorize it with his tongue. Pushing your thighs even farther apart, he licked in between your labia, gathering the slick you’d already made. He moaned into you, like you were the finest meal he’d ever had. He touched your clit with the tip of his tongue for the briefest moment before sliding it back down to your hole, making you growl. He nipped your inner thigh. “Hush, you’ll get it,” he answered. He took his time, licking you like a bowl of cream from bottom to top. You were wriggling, trying to get him back to your clit, but his strong arms kept you from moving too much. You weren’t used to Ace taking the reins but you definitely weren’t complaining. 

He had just put his tongue back on your clit to your complete satisfaction when you heard the jingle of keys in the door. You’d deadbolted it as a precaution when you took the room, but that wouldn’t last for long. Ace picked up his head from between your legs, your juice dripping down his face.

“Uh, we should go now. Grab everything,” you whispered. Total buzzkill. But, being arrested for using a hotel room without paying would also be a buzzkill. Ace jumped up, throwing on his clothes. You did the same, throwing on your clothes, grabbing your pack, and making a portal. The two of you had just made it through when the door to the room opened. But by then, you were on Ace’s ship, breathing heavily. You threw down your pack and sat down. You readjusted your clothes and caught your breath.

“Forgot housekeeping comes through sometimes,” you said to Ace. He looked over at you grinning and licking his lips. Your face heated as you realized he hadn’t cleaned up.

“Take it you weren’t paying for the room,” Ace said dryly.

“Not like they were using it,” you replied. “I don’t want to hear from a pirate about the morality of borrowing a hotel room.” 

“Where were the two of you yoi? It’s been an hour and a half,” an annoyed Marco towered over your sitting form. Ace at least looked embarrassed, maybe Marco would forgive him. 

“Uh, getting mineral oil?” you replied. “Which we, uh, forgot back on the island,” you finished  sheepishly.  Marco gave you and Ace a knowing look. 

“Quit it yoi. Have fun on your own time. Mineral oil is in the secondary supply room, next to the engine oil.” Marco walked away muttering something about crushes and time wasted. 

~~~

Ace retrieved the mineral oil while you repacked your bag. You just wanted to make sure that you had everything with you and didn’t forget anything in the room. As you finished, he returned with the book from earlier under his arm as well as the oil and some dry cleaning cloths. 

“Hey, grab the book before I drop it.” You took the book from under his arm as he put down the other things. “Ok, the instructions are on page 294. How do we apply the oil? I think it said multiple thin layers but I might be misremembering.” You fiddled with the pages and opened it to 294. Once on the page you looked down at it, there were a lot of different instructions on the page. You fiddled with the stone on your necklace. “Well, what’s it say?” Ace peered over your shoulder at the book in your hands.

“Umm… let me see…” Ace looked at you. He gave you a strange look as you got more flustered. “Here, you take it, I can’t find the right directions.” You shrugged and handed him the book nonchalantly. He took the book and put it on the deck, seemingly forgetting about the task at hand. He reached out and gently squeezed your upper arm, guiding you to the railing of the ship.

“Dreamy, can you - can you read?” Ace asked quietly, looking at your face as you registered his words. 

“What do you mean can I read? Of course I can read, I just didn’t see -” you started off indignantly, trailing off when you looked at Ace’s concerned face. 

“The directions were at the top of the page. If I give you the book, can you read to me what it says?” Ace was still speaking to you like you’d been hurt and he was trying not to startle you.

“I don’t - that’s not - you don’t -” you sputtered. You were red in the face, and yanked your arm away from Ace’s grasp. But he wasn’t letting go of the topic and he wasn’t letting you escape from him either.

“It’s OK if you can’t, we can teach you.” You bristled at Ace’s calm and non-judgemental words. 

“I don’t need you to teach me anything . I’ve been fine all these years, and I’m fine now.” Ace shrugged, still pinning you with a look. 

“Read me the directions and I’ll drop it.” You felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You weren’t sad, you were angry. He was prodding, in public, at your deepest source of shame. 

“Fuck off, Ace.” 

“It’s ok, it’s not a big deal. Everyone has to learn -” 

“And who was going to teach me, hm? My dad who abandoned me? My mom who died? Or maybe the townspeople who made my life a living hell?” You were furious, hissing words at Ace. You saw a few of Ace’s crew members looking over at the two of you. You knew you were getting louder and making a scene but you couldn’t stop. 

“I’m not trying to upset -”

“Well, you’re not trying but you succeeded. At least you had some people who cared about you. You had Luffy and Dadan and your grandpa. And your…friend Makino.” You were furious but you stopped yourself from mentioning his brother. He’d told you once, the only time you’d ever seen him cry, about his brother who’d died, who’d taught him to read before you’d come along. You couldn’t break that confidence.

“I cared about you,” Ace said softly. With that, a tear fell down your cheek. “I still do.” He reached for you again, while you shifted backwards, avoiding his touch. You felt ashamed, overwhelmed, and embarrassed. You were also remorseful that you’d lashed out at Ace who had just been trying to help. You wanted to fix things between you but you were always better at running away than mending.

“I’m gonna go.” You picked up your pack, making a portal with one hand. You needed to get away, to break away from this emotional scene. “Bye, Ace.” You walked through the portal, leaving Ace behind. Again. 

~~~

Or so you thought. As you came through the second portal to an alleyway behind the main street of the town, you were tackled to the ground. “You’re not leaving like that,” you heard Ace say from behind you. You didn’t realize he was so fast - no one had ever chased you through your own portals like that before. He had you on the ground, keeping you in place with his weight. He had your arms pinned to the ground, preventing you from making portals. 

“You can’t just - you can’t -” you couldn’t compute what was happening. 

“What I can’t do is watch you walk away. I did it once and I can’t do it again. Not like this.” He touched his forehead to yours. “Please, let me help you. I want - I need to. I need to help you like you helped me. Please.” Ace finished his statement with a kiss, still holding your arms down above your head.

“Ace I -” 

“Come with me for a little bit. Not forever. Just until the next island. It’s not a commitment, it’s just for now.” He ghosted his lips over yours, looking for you. You didn’t know what to say. You could leave this island, it didn’t really matter when or where you went. Going with Ace was appealing, but you’d had bad experiences with other crews. But maybe this time would be different, you’d be with Ace. 

“Just until the next island?” you asked cautiously. 

“Or you can break my nose again.” 

“I’d break more than that this time,” you said with a small smile. 

“Yeah, maybe my heart,” Ace replied with a cheeky grin. You rolled your eyes with a wider smile before it dropped suddenly off your face. 

“Ace, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I - I - you’re right.” You couldn’t say the words that you were illiterate, it was too painful. Ace gave you a kind smile.

“You don’t need to apologize. Just say you’ll come with me, don’t run away.” Ace’s eyes bored into your own, not giving you anywhere to hide. 

“Alright, alright. Until the next island.” You picked your head off the ground, pushing your lips against his. “Besides, I have a lot more to teach you,” you said with a grin, "you haven't even tried portal sex yet." Ace's eyes widened. It was going to be a fun journey.  

[lavenderfluorite14]

A Taste of Plums | Astarion x Female!Tav

Chapter 10: Want

Summary: Astarion finally leads Tav to a pretty, private clearing. ❤️‍🔥

Rating and Warnings: 18+ Explicit Content ❤️‍🔥. Kissing, Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Unprotected Sex But No Pregnancy, Sexual Abuse and Recovery, Dissociation, Flashbacks. A/N: Please mind the tags! This will be a horny and hopeful story, but I also want to honor and explore Astarion’s sexual abuse and recovery journey. Full tag list on AO3. Read on AO3. Chapter 9. Read from the beginning. Tav was late. Astarion resisted the urge to pace and instead stayed in position, leaning against a thick oak tree. He had brought a spare bedroll with him, which he had fluffed and arranged nicely on the forest floor, alongside a fresh bottle of Ithbank he had stolen from their supplies. He had even brought the nice glass chalices he had “found.” He didn’t have any flowers or chocolates, but at least he had decent wine. Obviously, he had removed his shirt. Once Tav entered the clearing he would reveal himself, his lean body a vision in the soft moonlight, and begin the romantic monologue he had prepared. 

He was looking forward to it. He had used the same rote moves over and over again in the bars, the flop houses, the brothels. With strangers, it was better to stick to a safe script, even the repetitive one that had been trained into him. But this was a rare moment of theatricality he could plan. 

Crickets chirped. An owl hooted. A few fireflies flickered and danced across the clearing. It really was a lovely spot.

He had spent a long time thoroughly choreographing this encounter. It had to be perfect. Would Tav like it soft and romantic? That was always a safe bet. Or would she surprise him? Was Tav secretly a naughty little thing underneath her do-gooder veneer? Was she as bossy in bed as she was outside of it, or would she attend his every command? He wasn’t completely sure what Tav would like, but he had a few educated guesses. Most people liked the same kinds of things anyway.

Tav was a bard. Given their reputation, he assumed she would at least be competent. 

Finally, he hears new footsteps approach and Tav steps gingerly out of the darkness. She’s freshly bathed and dressed in a loose, flowing peasant blouse that sits low upon her shoulders, revealing her gorgeous collar bones. On cue, Astarion strides forward into a moonbeam, angling himself so that the light catches the hard planes of his chest, the hills and valleys of his abdominals. Tav is appropriately awestruck: she looks him up and down and up again, her pupils dilating with undisguised surprise and desire. 

“There you are. I’ve been waiting,” he purrs eagerly. He prowls towards her. “Waiting since the moment I laid eyes on you.” His voice is soft and low with promise. “Waiting,” He pauses for effect. “To have you.”

Tav’s lip quirks. “Really? From the moment you laid eyes on me?” She questions. “So, was it from the moment you saw me on the Nautiloid and thought I was a Mindflayer? Or was it when you threatened me at knifepoint?”

Astarion purses his lips. He had forgotten about all of that sordid business. He was just trying to say something alluring.

“The point of the matter is, I’ve been aching to have you,” he counters smoothly. 

“Well, you don’t have me yet,” Tav teases.

“Don’t I?” He softly calls her bluff. “You’re here! And I don’t think you want to talk.” He steps forward, bringing his hand up to her face. “I think you want to be known.” He brushes a few stray locks behind her ears. His fingers linger against her cheek. “To be tasted,” he whispers. 

“And what do you want?” Tav breathes, her eyes wide and glassy. What a question. He wants so many things. Power. Control. Vengeance. Freedom. Safety. But in this clearing, there’s only one right answer. 

“What do any of us want? Pleasure.” He holds her gaze, lowering his lashes in a sultry stare. “Yours.” His hands grab her waist. “Mine.” He pulls her body close. “Our collective ecstasy.” He studies Tav’s face, his eyes flickering back and forth across her features. She studies him back, her eyes boring into his own like she’s searching desperately for something. Suddenly, Astarion feels insecure. Why else would she be here if not for this?

“That is what you want, isn’t it?” He asks apprehensively. “To lose yourself in me.” 

It’s what they always want. In these moments Astarion is not himself. If he exists, he is a pair of pecs, a ripple of abs, talented fingers, a wet mouth, a hard cock, a tight and willing hole. He is merely a reflection of his partner’s desires. It doesn’t matter what he wants. 

Tav places a hand upon his own, leading it up to her mouth. She places a light kiss across the back of his knuckles.

“What I want is the chance to get to know a man who seems-" she turns his hand over. “Clever.” She kisses the palm of his hand, her soft lips lingering against the sensitive skin. “Witty.” She kisses his wrist. She ghosts her mouth up his arm, her warm breath trailing over his cool flesh. “Cunning.” She places a scorching kiss on his shoulder. “Ambitious.” She lays an open-mouthed kiss at the base of his neck and Astarion stifles an involuntary sigh. She moves upward, finally to his mouth.

“Fierce,” she declares. He instinctively leans in and captures her lips with his. She parts her lips for him and Astarion stops himself from groaning into her mouth. She kisses him back softly, her plush lips moving against his with a tender fervor that makes him feel dizzy. He forces himself to break the kiss, dropping his hands to the backs of her thighs and hoisting her up. Tav instinctively knows to jump as he lifts, wrapping her legs around him as he pivots smoothly to press her into the trunk of the nearby oak tree, pinning her there with the weight of his frame.

He kisses her again, basking in the passionate, sensual slide of her mouth as they embrace against the tree. It always felt wrong to allow himself to enjoy the tenderness of a kiss, knowing what awaited his partners. But this is a moment of his own. As he dips his tongue into her hot, wet mouth he finds that it is not enough. He wants more. More heat, more touch, more connection. Tav’s fingers thread through his curls and he shivers in both delight and dread. But her fingers stay soft, her grip stays kind and the longer she caresses him, the more he finds that he likes her attention. He squeezes her ass and Tav releases a breathy sigh into his mouth.

“Please,” she breathes. He buries his face into her neck, where he can’t help but smile against her skin.

“Please what, darling?” He teases, the smirk evident in his voice as he lays a kiss against her throat. Tav guides his face back up to hers. She pushes herself against him, clinging to his chest, and for a moment they are perfectly balanced upright. Then, Tav uses her weight to tip him backward and they tumble into the downy grass. They land in a playful tangle, Tav now seated atop him. She arches her neck in a sinful curve.

“Bite me,” she begs. “Please.” Her thighs clench around his waist. “Please, Astarion.”

Astarion surges forward, flipping them over. He was ready to forego this, but now that Tav has asked for his bite he has no qualms about giving it to her. He dives down to her neck, sinking his teeth greedily into her. Tav cries out, but her cry of pain quickly turns to pleasure as he takes his fill. As he drinks, he slots himself between her legs, settling his weight on top of her as she trembles under him. She’s perfect like this, pinned beneath him with his fangs in her throat. His neglected cock throbs for attention.

Too soon, Astarion rips himself away from her neck. As much as he loves this, he wants her alert. He needs her to feel everything he plans to do to her. He laps at her pretty wounds, swallowing every last drop. Tav bucks beneath him, seeking friction. He has mercy, grinding his hardness down against her. 

“As delicious as this is, there’s something else I want to taste,” He whispers in her ear. He moves lower, pulling the loose fabric of her top down beneath her perfect, round breasts. She isn’t wearing any kind of bra or stays, a delightful surprise. He lavishes each breast with nips and kisses, her nipples hardening under his touch. He takes one in his mouth, circling her nipple expertly with his tongue as he kneads the other. Her tits feel perfect in his hands, their softness a beckoning temptation. Tav quivers and sighs as he caresses her, petting his head in a way that he imagines is loving. He wonders what it would be like to bite her here. To lay his head against the pillow of her breast and hear her hypnotic heartbeat. But as beautiful as that thought is, her chest is only an apéritif. Tav groans when Astarion moves even further down her body.

Astarion smirks to himself as he descends. He is very, very good with his mouth. 

He unlaces her skirt, then hooks his fingers into her smallclothes, sliding them both completely off and depositing them somewhere irrelevant. He lays a kiss on her ankle, then her knee, then on the inside of her thigh, where a major artery throbs with precious blood. He wants to sink his teeth into it. Instead, he lays another kiss against her plush skin.

He leans forward between Tav’s splayed legs where her wet, pretty cunt glistens. He inhales deeply, openly enjoying the musk of her arousal. He looks up at her from between her legs and catches her staring, propped up on her elbows, as he knew she would be. Maintaining eye contact, he dips down and licks a slow, sensual line across her opening and up to her clit. Tav sighs, her freshly-kissed breasts heaving as she arches her perfect neck upwards. The bruise of his bite stares back at him as Astarion dips back down.

He begins with hot, heavy strokes of his tongue, savoring her taste. Her essence mixes with the lingering taste of blood still on his tongue and he moans at the heady combination. His cock twitches and a spurt of precum suddenly drips from his tips as he sucks and laps at her delicate folds. Gods, she's making such a mess of him.

He circles the delicate pearl of her clit, gradually increasing speed and suction as he works. Her hole clenches needily and he dips one, then another, elegant finger inside her, stroking her silken walls in time with the swirl of his tongue. She’s dripping with want, her channel slick and eager for him. The glide is practically effortless. He adds just a little bit of oomph behind his thrusts, jostling her hips as if he were fucking her with his cock and not his fingers. A small prelude of what is to come. She is going to take his cock so, so well.

“Astarion,” she pants. He moans against her in answer, a deep purr of approval. He crooks his fingers inside of her, massaging her relentlessly. He can feel her twitching, tightening around him. She’s almost there, he can feel it. She grinds against his face and he holds firm, providing her with the sweet friction she needs. 

“Astarion!” She clenches around his fingers, gasping as she comes in tight, rippling spasms. He rides her through it, never stopping his ministrations. Not until the sweet undulations of her cunt cease and Tav relaxes in a sweaty, spent puddle. His face is a lovely, sticky mess. He gives her one last sinful lick before moving back to nuzzle her inner thigh. She whines at the loss of his tongue and fingers but he peppers her body with apologetic kisses. She grabs a desperate, but still gentle, fistful of his curls, rubbing his scalp in smooth, soothing circles. Astarion shudders at this new, intimate pleasure. 

“Bite me. Please. Again,” Tav whimpers.

“How could I refuse you,” Astarion groans. He hooks one of her thighs over his shoulders, opening her up even more for him. He finally sinks his teeth into the artery in her thigh, relishing in the decadence of such an intimate bite. It’s perfect, exactly what he had wanted. He sucks hard and Tav jerks beneath him, her cunt gushing with renewed wetness. As he drinks, he snakes his hand back up to her clit, rubbing fast circles against her slick flesh. Tav cries out, whining as she quickly approaches a new peak. He releases her thigh, lapping at his bite needily. 

“So good, Tav,” he slurs huskily, both her blood and her cum dripping messily down his chin. “So good for me, my darling.” Tav shudders, looking up at him with open adoration in her eyes. “My favorite.” Her face scrunches up, her body pulled tight with pleasure. He holds her gaze. “You’re such a good girl,” he moans for her.

Tav comes for the second time, her back arching off the forest floor as her empty pussy spasms. She releases the sweetest moan as she orgasms again. When she’s finished she reaches for him, pulling him up her body and back to her mouth, where she kisses him with her own deep and fervent hunger.

“You’re perfect, Astarion,” she says, kissing his cheek, then his neck, then his shoulder. “You’re so beautiful,” she murmurs worshipfully. She reaches down to cup his aching cock, rubbing him through the fabric of his trousers. Astarion groans softly at the contact.

“Your turn,” she says with a playful smirk, and Astarion realizes that she intends to work her way down. Tav begins to flip their positions but Astarion holds firm, anchoring himself above her. He wants her. But that’s not the point of this.

“Not tonight, my love. Tonight, I want to positively ravish you,” he insists. Tav groans with thwarted longing, but still arches herself up against him to kiss his treacherous lips. 

“You sweet, sweet man,” she says, laying back down beneath him. He knows it isn’t true. Tav only has half of the story, by his own design. Astarion knows he isn’t sweet or kind in reality, but maybe he could be. For a night. For Tav.

“Let me show you just how sweet I can be,” he says, returning his fingers to her swollen pussy. He knows she’s already dripping for it, but he longs to feel the proof of her desire again. He did this to her. He lines himself up, teasing the tip of his cock against her drenched opening. He rubs himself languidly between her legs, coating his cock in her nectar as he continues to tease her.

 “Astarion, please,” Tav whines, grinding her hips against him to match his rhythm. A shiver runs up his spine at her wanton cries. He loves it when she begs for it, desperate for anything he will give her. He wants to push it, but he stops himself. He said he would be sweet. 

“Anything for my favorite,” he hums, easing himself inside of her with a shallow thrust. He works his way slowly inside of her, enjoying the way her body stretches to accommodate his girth. Tav mewls when he’s finally seated inside of her, and Astarion gives an experimental grind that makes her gasp in pleasure. 

When he feels her body relax around him he sets a firm, but steady, pace, humping into her with practiced abandon. His cock drags along her tight walls, spearing her core over and over. He angles himself up against the delicious spot inside her that he knows will make her see stars. He finds it easy to fall into this rhythm, to let his mind wander away while his partner writhes in ecstasy. To let his hand find their clit, toying with it perfunctorily as they languish beneath him. 

“Faster, please,” someone begs. 



“So polite,” He chuckles darkly, increasing his pace. Sweat begins to bead along his brow. A hand comes up to wipe it away, jolting him out of his reverie. Lips find his own, but it’s too much right now. He gives them a quick peck then straightens his spine, keeping his face far away from that tempting and forbidden throat. 

“Astarion,” a voice calls, breathless and keening. Fingers trace over his chest, running down his side, grasping at his hip. They begin to move across his back, dangerously close to it. He immediately laces those curious fingers in his own, pinning them above their head. He begins pounding in earnest, obfuscating with his body. 

He feels his partner shatter underneath him, their hole clenching and sucking around his length. Their pleasure ripples through him in tight, pleasing waves and he slows his hips to a gentle roll as they come down from their climax. Tav squeezes his hand in hers, turning her face to kiss his knuckles again. 
 “Come here,” she beckons, drawing him down to her chest with her other hand. Astarion obeys but turns his face away from her delectable neck. Any moment, He will interrupt-

“That was so good,” she says. “You’re so good.” She coaxes him further up her body, angling his face towards the crook of her neck. She allows him to hide there, unaware of the tempest that wells inside of him.

 “Please, take your pleasure, Astarion,” she urges, rubbing those diabolical circles into his scalp. “I want to feel you come,” she pleads. His hips twitch and he jerks inside of her, his body moving of its own accord. He has whispered words like those a thousand times, but Tav sounds so sincere when she says them.

It’s been so long, too long since this happened with another person. He doesn’t know if he can. But he wants to. Her arms cradle him as he moves against her, trying to lose himself in the way that he’s supposed to. That should be instinctual, that should be his by right. 

He buries his face in her neck, resisting the desire to bite down. He feels the warmth of her body, breathes in her comforting scent. This isn’t just anyone. It’s Tav. Tav. Tav, Tav, Tav, Tav, Tav-

He comes hard, releasing himself deeply inside of her. A moan tears itself from his throat as he is wracked with full-body contractions, pleasure coursing through him like lightning. He takes big, gasping, unnecessary gulps of air as he hurtles over this unexpected cliff. Tav holds him through it all, whispering kind, encouraging nothings. 

She turns to kiss him and he lets her, grounding himself in the push and pull of her lips. He opens his mouth to her, wanting to feel it all. Tav props them both up on their sides, brushing his sweaty curls out of his face. He can feel her smiling into the kiss and it makes him smile too, just a little. 

“You forgot handsome,” he says after a moment, breaking their kiss.

“What?” Tav asks blearily.

“Handsome. Funny, clever, cunning, ambitious, fierce, and handsome,” he explains, as if it were obvious. Tav snorts inelegantly, a cute puff of air tickling his face.

“And very, very handsome,” she concedes, settling against his chest.

They stay like that for a long time, silently luxuriating in each other’s arms. Astarion can’t remember the last time he trusted this peace. He’s waiting for it to be interrupted by the the click of a door handle, the muted tap of a staff against ugly carpet, and the red glow of his sire’s cruel eyes, freezing them both in place on one of the overstuffed, impersonal beds of the palace. 

Tav shifts in his arms and he resists the urge to hold her tighter. Her hand strokes his chest in a consistent, easy sweep that lulls them both into a deep, peaceful rest. 

~

Chapter 11: Fun

[itsscromp]

FNAF animatronics x reader

A part 2 to the request which you can find here. This story is inspired by a story that me and my friend who i will credit also for the story did a couple nights ago. It was too adorable not to adapt, so here you guys go. Word count:1.4K

Heading home when 6am hit, you were continuously baffled as to how these animatronics were moving on their own. How they all have personalities and how they could understand you. what's more baffling is that they were protecting you. Not hurting you like those thieves.

So once you got home and rested for a bit, you began to do some research on the place, Learning that 5 kids went missing back in the 80s and the place was shut down because of it. But why did Steven keep you in the dark on that ?? But then you came across something, finding some Reddit forums, theorizing that the kids that went missing, possess the respected animatronics as for who they went to see. Jesus Christ this situation went deeper and deeper.

If these kids possess the animatronics, then chances are they can be able to communicate somehow, You remembered from your grandma that before we learned to speak, pictures were windows to our feelings and words, so maybe being able to draw to communicate with them would be a way to talk to them.

Heading back to the pizzeria, you headed inside, this time with a notepad and some pencils. Going to your office and switching on the power, the place buzzed with life once again. Going back to the main entrance you began to draw some scenarios to show them. The first one is you holding hands with them, to indicate that you wanted to be friends with them.

Once you finished with the drawing you then went to the stage where the curtains were already drawn back. You took a deep breath and slowly walked up to the stage.

"Hey... I'm back" You tried to greet them. But they didn't move for a little while until you saw the cupcake on Chica's hand look at you, it started to shake. You immediately got scared as it then disappeared when you had your back turned, you looked around for it before feeling something grasp your ankle, it was the cupcake.

"Gaah !!!" You tried to kick it off... but slowly realised it wasn't biting down real hard. It was more like a puppy's playbite. Chica then saw the cupcake and walked over, retrieving it back to her hand. With that the other animatronics came to life, all looking at you. Happy to see you again.

"Hey..." You chuckled softly as your ankle was freed from the clutches of Mr cupcake as you nicknamed him. Freddy walked up to you and wrapped his arms around you, He missed you as did the others.

"Thanks, Freddy" You felt fuzzy on the inside for how sweet they were all being right now. You then pulled out the drawing that you made and showed it to them. "We can be friends... Yeah ??"

They all looked at the drawing briefly before Foxy was the first to nod his head eagerly. "Woah woah careful there" You chuckled as he was getting a little dizzy. Bonnie had a great idea as he was waving his arms to get your attention.

"What is it, Bonnie ??" You looked up at him. He began to hide his face behind his hands and reappear. "You want to play peek a boo ??" He shook his head no and tried again. "Oh, you wanna play hide and seek ??" He nodded at you, the others all agreeing to play.

"Ok... I'll count, you guys go hide ok ??" You then covered your eyes and began counting. "1... 2... 3..."

You could hear their clunky footsteps as they tried to scramble to their hiding places, Foxy picking Pirate's Cove easily, Bonnie then picked the supply closet. Chica then chose the kitchen. Freddy... He hid right in front of you, covering his eyes thinking if he couldn't see you, you couldn't see him. "8...9...10 !! ready or not here I come !!" You looked around and then saw Freddy in front of you, It took every ounce of you not to giggle at the sight.

"Hmmm, I wonder where Freddy could be ??" You pretended to sound curious as you began to look around the pizzeria, Before sneaking up in front of him and then booping his nose, making it squeak. "Found you, Freddy !!" You smiled

He looked at you with such fond eyes, he held out his hand for a high five from you, which you gladly did. "Come on, let's go find the others." You said as you two began to look for the others, You found Chica soon after, with Mr cupcake ankle biting you again. Freddy then found Bonnie in the supply closet. Now it was just Foxy left, You all looked high and low for him, where could he be. But then you heard some creaking of floorboards on Pirate's Cove, So you snuck to the stage and then swung the curtains open, finding him. "That was an excellent hiding spot Foxy" You smiled as he stepped off the stage, Moving his ears excitedly. He then looked around and then found a pirate hat and placed it on your head. "You wanna play Pirates ??" He moved his ears and mouth excitedly, yes he wants to play Pirates.

"Yarrr, then come along me loyal crew, We be seeking a treasure to find !!" You pointed to the prize stand of the arcade. "But first, a hearty crew needs a hearty ship, Off we go !!!" You and the others began to build the "boat" out of tables and chairs from around the Pizzeria, You rushed into the supply closet and brought back a table cloth to act as a sail, it was by far the most amazing boat in all of animatronic pirate history.

"Onwards me mateys !!" You pointed forward as they began to pretend to do what a pirate does around the ship, as the loyal captain, you began to sing a shanty. "Yarr harr fiddle dee tee, being a pirate is alright with me, do what you want cause a pirate is free. You are a pirate." You turned to Foxy with a smile as he moved his mouth up and down as if singing along with the shanty. "You are a pirate, we got us a map. To lead us to a hidden box that's all locked up with locks and buried deep away. We'll dig up the box, we know it's full of precious booty. First, open the locks and then we'll say hooray !!!" You cheered. Mr cupcake meanwhile acted as the Kraken of the ocean. "Yarr me matey's, we got ourselves a Kraken on the loose, fire the cannons !!!"

Bonnie and chica threw plushies at Mr cupcake as to act as cannonballs, It was working. It was slowing it down. But they were running out of cannonballs fast. Freddy then made the noble sacrifice of then attacking the Kraken cupcake head on.

"No Freddy !!!" The others were shocked as he then fell to the ground, It was done. The Kraken was stopped but at what cost !!!. You all gathered around him and tried to help him. "Yarr... I believe there maybe something that can work. The power of friendship." You wrapped your arms around him as did the others, And with much friendship, Freddy was back !!!.

"Ahoy their matey !!!, Ye be back from Davey Jones's locker !!" You smiled, booping his nose again, making it squeak. And then the grand reward, You all made it to the treasure !!!!. "Ahh, A fine treasure for a fine crew."

You jumped over the counter and looked around. Finding some well-deserved treasure. "A crown for the lovely chica" You smiled as you placed the crown on her head. "And then we have this amazing guitar for Bonnie" You inflated the inflatable guitar and handed it to Bonnie, which he strummed it. "A trophy for the brave Freddy" You handed him the Freddy Fazbear trophy. "And a gold chain for foxy, as every pirate needs" You smiled placing the chain around his neck, But where was your treasure they thought. "Yarr me treasure is me crew, That's all I need in this pirate life" You smiled as you all brought them in for a group hug. This was easily the best night of your life.

But unfortunately, 6am rung on your watch. It was time to go home. The animatronics looked at you sadly. They didn't want you to go home.

"Hey... It's ok, I'll be back soon, don't you worry" You reassured them. "I had a lot of fun tonight" You smiled at them, and they all looked at you with the kindest eyes possible. Picking up your bag and then heading out the door, you waved at them goodbye as did they.

You had so much fun with them, You may even have the best job in the world.

A/N: Mr cupcake is an ankle biter I know it.

Taglist: @callofdudes @fun-k-board

[pumpkinbxtch]

HI! I don’t know if ur taking recs,but I would wanna rec a fem!model!reader x frank zhang :3 extra points if she’s a daughter of hades.

the fic can be anything,all the power to u<3 maybe like just a cuddle sesh after a shoot?? I just wanna see a frank fic that’s not hcs cus no one writes him :((

u don’t have to do this ask if u don’t wanna :33 great writing!! have a great day/night <3🤍💗 :3

my cover girl

— frank zhang x daughter of hades!model!fem!reader

warnings: none, just too much fluff

.a/n: hiii always is a pleasure to write for Frank, he's soo ugh. Ilovehimmmm. Thank you and have a good night/ day

The flashes were partially blinding him, but he didn't care. He couldn't and didn't want to take his eyes off you, his beautiful, precious, and talented girlfriend.

— Simply dazzling!— the photographer said once another flash went off, voicing Frank's thoughts. He hugged your coat to his chest and couldn't help but smile when your eyes glanced at him for a microsecond.

The assistant brought him a chair, but he rejected it like before. He was just too lost in the way you moved for his mind to think about any kind of fatigue, but he imagined yours. For a little over an hour, you had been doing poses that he couldn't even achieve with all the training from Camp Jupiter. He watched the way your muscles tensed and your legs stretched, how your toes supported your weight, not to mention that you were only leaning on those heels.

He was relieved to know he had a box of ointments and medications especially for you in the glove compartment of his car, but what caught his attention the most were the microexpressions that only he could notice in you, the way your brow trembled between each photo, fighting not to frown. That's when Frank knew that beyond any physical fatigue, your social battery was less than half, as a daughter of Hades, you had some well-defined characteristics besides the intriguing beauty you possessed.

— One more! — the photographer shouted, and Frank eagerly stepped forward to greet you, ready to scoop you up in his arms to the car.

For your last photo, you turned your back to the camera and looked over your shoulder, searching for a point to focus on, and of course, that was your boyfriend.

Flash! It was as if another arrow had pierced Frank's heart for you. A few meters away, the assistant suppressed giggles at the stupid way Frank still smiled at you while you were already heading to your dressing room to change, and it was only a few minutes that he had to wait to see you return in much more comfortable and loose clothes, just as you liked after a session. He watched you drag your feet while a pout appeared on your face with each step you took towards him.

— There you are... — Frank sang, opening his arms, and you jumped into them to be enveloped and given that bear hug you loved. His cologne was soothing to your tired senses, almost like a lullaby, and he understood it by the way your weight leaned almost entirely on his chest.

The journey back home was like almost every time you returned from a session. Frank drove with the music barely audible, the heating on to give you some air, and you nestled in the back with a teddy bear that you had bought wich you insisted to Frank that it looked just like him when he turned into a bear, although in his opinion, he thought he simply looked like any other bear, but the thought that you could recognize him in any shape or way warmed his heart.

—Come here — Frank said, opening the back door once they had arrived. You rose slowly, but his hands climbed up your legs to lift you, and the only time you touched the floor was when he sat you on the edge of his bed. You looked at him for a few more seconds in silence while he took out some provisions and left them in their place.

— Frank —His head was buried in the refrigerator, probably inspecting what other supplies were missing.

—Frank....— You tried again, and your weak voice made him sit up a little so quickly that he did it before pulling his head out, causing him to hit the appliance. You only heard the thud.

—Yes?— He peeked out while rubbing his head, and you smiled. You didn't say anything else, just opened your arms.

Sometimes he found it hard to read you. Taking care of you as you did of him was important to him, so he always took the time to look into everything, while for you, although you appreciated that, some days all you wanted was... him, and he often forgot that because he never thought you would prefer to lie down with him rather than enjoy some delicious food or have him do all the cleaning alone. As he walked towards you, he felt his cheeks tingling.

— Sorry, it wasn't my intention to forget you— For you, it wasn't like that, in fact, it was quite the opposite, but you just kept your arms open with a sleepy smile that almost made Frank blink slower. He bent down to be at chest level with you, and with his arms wrapped around your waist to lift you so that both of you could fit on the mattress. Unlike other days, you wanted to settle into his arms facing each other, and his stomach churned as he was able to smell those expensive fragrances that suited you so well.

—You're the best — you whispered, your eyes struggling to stay open, and your well-manicured hand caressed his cheek. He had won you over, nothing could be better than cherishing your affection, but if things could be better, it was with that.

—No, you're the best.— he cooed as he gently traced the features of your nose with his finger, causing you to close your eyes. When you smiled slightly, gradually falling asleep, he gave you a soft kiss and held you to his chest until he had the same need to close his eyes.

[scarletttries]

Kendall Roy Dating Reader with different jobs... (Succession Request)

Pairing: Kendall Roy x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Just fluff, nothing explicit.

Author’s Note: I've had a bunch of different requests for what Kendall Roy would be like for a reader with a specific career/background so I thought I would write some headcanons for each job in this one post, enjoy! :)

Kendall Roy Dating Reader with different jobs...

Teacher! Reader

- Kendall never really considered the kind of selfless person you need to be to take a job that is endlessly tiring, chronically underpaid and completely underappreciated. His world was about hoarding money and power, leaving morals by the wayside once they started to get in your way.

- But trying to be a better dad to his children, he scheduled time once a week to pick them up from school himself, trying to be a more active parent now that he had lost his own. As his car finally rolled to a stop at pick-up after twenty minutes of sitting in traffic caused exclusively by black SVU's, he could feel his commitment to this wavering, willing himself to stroll up the front entrance and stand with all the other parents, like he was just one of the masses.

- That's where he saw you, perched on the stone steps, taking Iverson through his schedule for tomorrow as Sophie peered over your shoulder, voice so soothing Kendall could feel his shoulder began to drop as he stepped slowly towards you, a grin forming across his cheeks as he watched his son smile at your instructions.

"Dad!" Sophie would notice him first, pleasantly surprised that he not only followed through with his promise, but even looked happy to see them, running over to crash into his arms.

"Hey Soph! You and Ives ready to go, or are you still talking to Mrs...?" This wasn't the first time you'd had a dad trying to scope out your situation, but you couldn't help but warm towards him a little as his kids clung eagerly to his hands.

"Miss (Y/L/N), it's nice to meet you." You offered, extending your hand towards him in time for Sophie to let him go just long enough for him to reach out and shake it.

"Kendall Roy, I'll be doing pick up once a week now, so I'll see you around." He tried to say it casually, but you could tell from his beaming smile this man would be nothing but trouble for you.

- Surely enough the next week Kendall returns, having thought about little else and prying a few details unsubtly from Iverson about what turned out to be his favourite teacher. Expect weekly pick-up to start including gifts (for the kids and for you), Kendall insisting it's the least he could do for someone 'with an actually difficult job' finally building up the nerve to ask you if he can take you out for dinner the week before Winter break, as a thank you for being Iverson's favourite teacher.

- Once you accept, prepare to be fully suckered into Kendall's charm; this man knows how to plan a first date. He'll have orchestrated everything to give you the date of your dreams, before casually dropping into conversation that he's made an enormous donation to your school to ensure student have only the best supplies 'since he knows they already have the best teacher.'

- Seeing the way his kids adore you would have Kendall immediately thinking long term with you, exactly the type of kind, selfless, wholesome person that he has always wanted to be with.

Ballerina! Reader

- Kendall could hardly believe that Connor had dragged him out to some ridiculous ballet, just so Willa could rub shoulders with the theatre director in the hopes of producing another failing Broadway show. As he slumped into his box seat and leaned down over the railings he could almost peep behind the curtains at the side of the stage, seeing a few elegant forms flitting about as the lights began to dim.

- The moment you stepped on stage, he was captivated. The lightness with which you moved, the emotion your body portrayed so beautifully, the glistening beauty of your face as you stared up into the spotlight. Kendall felt like he couldn't take a breath the entire performance, hooked on your every step, everything about you ethereal and otherworldly.

- Kendall was rarely nervous, but he felt the butterflies stirring through his stomach as Connor and Willa dragged him backstage after the performance, leaving him alone and face-to-face with the object of his obsession. He'd walk past every other performer, you standing out to him even in a crowd of matching costumes and make-up. Gushing about your performance, his intensity might take you by surprise for a moment, but only long enough for him to completely win you over before you've finished your first glass of champagne.

- Once you start dating, Kendall is at every one of your performances, watching you dance from his private box and feeling like it's for him alone. His perfect performer, shining so brightly for him to marvel at. He'd consider inviting his family, so proud of the way you dance, but ultimately decides it feels too intimate to share with anyone else, a private dance for him every time you're on stage.

- After rehearsals expect Kendall to be cooing over your aching body, running luxurious baths full of oils and steaming salts, settling in behind you and having you lay back against his chest, soothing your tired muscles with soft strokes of his hands for as long as it takes for you to feel rested again. If you're sat on his sofa with him, he'll pull your feet onto his lap and knead the flesh gently, in awe of just what they can do in those slippers.

- Whenever you're at a bar or a party he loves to hit the dance floor with you, watching you sway in perfect time, so in control of your body, feeling endlessly privileged that he's the one that gets to dance alongside you at moments like this.

Waitress at your Family Restaurant

- Your parents had never been rich, but they'd put every effort and penny and hour they had into the family restaurant and you'd never felt like you missed out on anything because you came from a working class background.

- Growing up your family was always close, spending your teenage years waiting on tables, and then sticking with it, knowing one day the family business will be yours to take over. Your parents were so proud of you, and you knew they would have supported you in whatever you wanted to do, but this was where your heart was always going to be.

- You'd never had a lot of money to play with growing up, so you never really cared about having fancy things, knowing you had everything you needed to live a happy life.

- When Kendall ends up in an unfamiliar part of town, and you serve him one of the most spiritually fulfilling meals he's ever had, he leaves you his number with a tip that could pay off a mortgage and you realise just how rich he is.

- Kendall would quickly notice how out of place you feel at the elaborate events his presence is required at, realising just how privileged he is to have an unlimited wardrobe that constantly updates with the latest styles - and so he takes you shopping on your third date.

- Shopping with Kendall is a marathon, him excitedly pulling you into every store and watching as shopgirls that would usually turn their nose up at you suddenly start fawning over you and rushing to bring you dress after dress once they see one of Kendall's assistants pull out an array of black credit cards. It would feel a little uncomfortable having Kendall pay for thousands of dollars of designer clothes, but the sheer joy on his face as you parade in and out of a dressing room in items chosen by him would quickly let you know he's enjoying this even more than you are. Everytime he sees you in an item he chose on that shopping trip he feels a rush of pride, so happy he can treat you to all the amazing things you deserve.

- And this is anything but one-sided as Kendall gets more and more accustomed to visiting your family's restaurant, absorbing all the positive energy your parents emit as they gush with pride and remind him he's always welcome, and a part of the family.

Fashion Designer! Reader

- It's no secret that Kendall considers himself someone with an eye for fashion, enjoying wearing the latest trends and finding unique items that help him express himself more than he can in his usual corporate uniform.

- So when he's at yet another new york fashion event and he hears rumours about a new designer showing a collection that afternoon, he's more than a little intrigued. Then he sees your designs strutting down the catwalk and he can tell there's something really special to this person, their creative eye resonating with exactly what he looks for in art, without even realising and in a way he can't quite put his finger on. Kendall scouts the after party excitedly, trying to track down this up and coming star, ready to negotiate a deal for a custom design he can't wait to brag about. But what he wasn't expecting is for the beautiful brain behind his new favourite looks to belong to such a beautiful person.

- By the end of the night he's secured a jacket from your upcoming collection, and a brunch date that weekend.

- Kendall would be your biggest supporter, investing emotionally and financially into your brand, your designs and your business, and using every resource he has to make you the star you deserve to be - just be prepared that he's going to want to buy one of everything.

- Definitely claims to be your muse at fashion shows, letting you use him as a human mannequin when you get struck by inspiration and your staying over at his place.

- He can no longer get dressed without asking for your input, looking momentarily unamused in just his underwear when you say he's in the perfect outfit as he is, before that mischievous grin flashes across his face and he's diving across the bed to ask you to make a lingerie collection and model it for him.