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apocalypse-shuffle · 4 months ago

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AMBER FREEMAN | GHOSTFACE (scream 2022)

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“Sent A Whole World Crying - pt1” (unrequited Amber Freeman x Fem!Reader) and (background Mindy Meeks-Martin x Fem!Reader)

| You accidentally let Amber know that you think she’s Ghostface (through DM’s); she’s not about to let you live through that mistake, obviously…probably.

| NSFW, canon typical violence, psychological trauma, unrequited feelings, angst (TW: general sadism, malicious concern, some taunting, reader-insert is harmed, slight metaphorical smut - some of the descriptors and dialogue I use are suggestive enough that it could be triggering.)

| Listen I’ve seen the analysis of who killed who in the movie, but for the sake of this fic I don’t care. (pic source: scream 2022 + promotional poster)

| Happy Early October!!

| 4k+ words

You:

- Mindy I’m telling you! - She keeps disappearing during the kills and then coming back all twitchy - Why aren’t you answering? You were all for looking into this shit earlier - Mindy! - I know you love Tara and they used to date or whatever but you know I’m right. - She’s probably Ghostface - Come on girl I’m being serious

You’ve been texting Mindy for the last two hours now and she’s still yet to answer you.

You didn’t know if it was because of how much shit you gave her for her insistence on trying to figure out who’d attempted to kill Tara a few nights ago (as if murder accusations were just mere gossip), or because she just hadn’t checked her texts yet, but this was bugging you to much for you to drop.

Hypocritical or not.

At first you’d blown off the signs, but red flags were red flags and eventually if they added up enough they started to look like blood splattered on the walls. Which didn’t help with the way your friend’s particular brand of paranoia was starting to rub off on you.

Now, you’ve managed to work yourself up so much at Amber’s most recent disappearing act that you’d nearly ran home so you could safely text Mindy.

In a circumstance that was beginning to be rarer and rarer for you both you couldn’t be up underneath each other right now so her DM’s would have to suffice.

She was busy with the film club at the moment, but she’d never once begrudged you texting her whenever and after going out with her and her friends last night then stewing over your observations all day you needed to tell somebody what you thought.

You weren’t very close to the group Mindy hung out with — you fucked with your own company just fine — but you and Mindy had become close over your mutual hate of your philosophy class and eventually she’d stumbled through asking you to hang out as a group (still blunt as ever even despite her raging blush) so you’d been with her friends at the bar only because she asked.

Friendship obligations, and all that.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to figure out who would do something so horrible just as much as they did either. It was just that you only truly cared for Mindy and Chad’s sakes.

Or at least as much as most of them wanted to figure this situation out.

Amber talked a big game about caring for Tara’s safety above all else and vetting everyone the smaller teen came into contact with, but after that jerk who got y’all kicked out left Amber had disappeared too. She came back overly excited — weird considering her best friend was almost brutally murdered — and there had been smudges on her shoes. You couldn’t confirm that it was that guy's blood, but you certainly felt like it was. The glint of something thick and wet was pretty hard to miss even on black boots.

Which was why you needed Mindy to answer you. You couldn’t bank on Amber fucking off around the same time the news reported Ghostface killed that man being a happy little coincidence.

Amber was pushy and rude on a good day and on a bad you’d seen her be downright malicious before, tripping someone down the stairs after he’d bumped into her type of malicious.

Plus ever since you started hanging out with Mindy you’ve noticed her staring at you more often, and no matter the contemplative look on Amber’s face whenever you caught her staring, her attention still made the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

Sighing, you unlock your phone and check your messages again, pacing around your room all the while, before something catches your eye.

That wasn’t Mindy’s handle. It just looked nearly identical.

Shit, no wonder she wasn’t responding.

Jolting to a stop in the middle of the room, you rush to delete the messages.

It’s as you’re deleting the fourth that the green ‘active now’ dot shows up beside the unfamiliar username and then ‘read’ pops up underneath your last three texts.

“Damnit,” you grumble, still deleting the last couple texts. It won’t do much now, but if you were fast enough the person at least won’t be able to show anyone else or prove what you said.

Your stomach flips a little as you see the three dots pop up in the vacant space left behind by your erasing spree.

You freeze.

And then, heart in your stomach, you just react, exiting out of the conversation and going to the person's account and blocking them.

Oh god, you were so fucked. Shit. You really hoped that wouldn't come back to bite you on the ass.

You sit down on your bed with a huff, heart beating so fast it feels like you just ran the mile in gym class again. Dropping your phone on your comforter you shake out your trembling fingers. You suppose that was a sign that maybe you should just keep your opinion to yourself.

You rub your hands down your face.

Yeah, okay. Problem kind of (maybe) avoided for now. You’d just have to hope for the best.

You grunt, “Okay, I need a nap.”

And then you take that nap. As is your right.

─────

You’re jarred from sleep a few hours later by the sound of a continuous series of buzzing, and glare sleep crusted eyes up at your blurred ceiling fan.

Mindy had better not be calling you for some contrite shit again, like helping her beat Chad at whatever late night game they’d decided to occupy their twin insomnia with at — rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you look at your phone — eleven pm.

Honestly though, who else would be ballsy enough to start rapid texting you like this in the goddamn middle of the night? The other girl knew you went to sleep around nine on school nights, but Mindy did whatever she—

It feels like your heart stops beating as your Face ID unlocks your phone and you finally read the messages. Ones sent from what looks like a throwaway account with a handle you don’t remotely recognize.

The particular messages, on the other hand, are horribly familiar.

Unknown:

Wide eyed, you can’t do anything but watch as another series of messages are sent.

Unknown:

- you think I’m some bitch faced little girl - well I’ll show you

And just like that you hear the power in the house cut off and watch with stilted breath as the service bar at the top of your screen goes down.

Immediately afterwards a message pops up on your phone to inform you that you’ve lost service even.

Shit.

You blink at your screen for another few seconds, brows furrowing, before whipping your head up to look around your room. Flashes of Tara battered to hell in the hospital and the memory of Sam telling you all about the attempted attack on her in that very place, mere hours after Tara had been checked in, fill your brain to the brim.

Mind feeling stuffed with static you let out a harsh breath through your nose, hand squeezing hard onto your device, and take a glance out the broken blind in your window to clock that there for sure wasn’t a power outage happening anywhere else but at your house.

So someone was definitely fucking with you.

Fuck, you gotta think.

How the killer even got the dm’s you sent if they weren’t Amber wasn’t a question for now, but how you’d get out of this mess certainly was. With your younger sibling down the hall from you, and your parents still out of the house clubbing, there was only one other person you had to worry about.

Now you just had to figure out how to get to them without tipping off whoever the hell else was also in your house.

Hold on.

You never checked who exactly it was you’d been texting before.

Opening Snapchat, you simultaneously tumble as quietly as possible from your bed, only briefly getting caught up by your blanket tangling around your legs.

When you check you see that, yup, it was Amber’s account (who’s handle was now ridiculously similar to Mindy’s and was only saved on your phone in the first place because Mindy had asked you to send her one of your summer assignments from this year to copy).

Goddamnit.

“Why me?” you whisper; but truly, you should’ve made sure you were talking to the right person if you were going to start making fucking murder accusations.

This shit was on you.

Teeth grinding, you stuff your phone into the pocket of your shorts then start crawling around the floor till you can begin prying open your door. Opening it as far as you know it can go before it starts creaking then inching yourself the rest of the way into the hall.

Sure you had a problem if this wasn’t some elaborate prank — which you doubted, but the possibility was always there considering the kind of assholes you went to school with — but you couldn’t jump out of your window and just leave your sibling to die.

It’s when your mission is about halfway accomplished, and you’re nearly to your sibling's room, that you hear a creak.

You freeze alongside it. Breathing with your mouth slightly open to minimize the amount of noise you’re making.

Should you just make a run for their room? Should you duck back into yours? Should you shout their name and hope for the best?

In your periphery a flash of white streaks across the dark abyss that is the rest of your house.

Then, you’re only allowed enough time to start the beginnings of a scream before you’re being thrown into the hallway wall, cutoff exclamation choking in your throat and something blunt and heavy slamming into your forehead before you can catalog anything but the sound of fabric billowing in a rush and the feel of hands grabbing at you.

The shout you let out at the second hit is muffled by a gloved hand slapping over your mouth, the impact stinging your face and making your eyes water.

In that same motion your attacker catches you by the hip, hauling, and combined with the force they barreled into you with that’s all they need to make you trip backwards.

You slam into the wall with an ‘oof,’ but your attacker hardly pauses before using their body to flatten yours against the wall and force your wrists together in front of you.

As you’re blinking the spots from your eyes and trying to make out the person in the darkness a metallic click sounds through the air. And all you can do is flinch as two icy metal bands are cinched around your wrists in quick succession and your vision finally adjusts.

The metal locking together pinches at your skin but there’s so much else going on that you don’t even grimace, too busy trying to find your breath after the sight in front of you stole it.

A face. White, screaming in agony, and floating in the shadow like something straight out of Munch’s worst nightmares.

There’s a Ghostface mask less than a foot away from you.

Real and unavoidable and close enough for the starkness to hurt your eyes against the blanket of night all around you.

In Woodsboro it's a familiar sight, whether on the screen during local stabathons and tv edits at home or in costume shops around any one of the many killing spree anniversaries or Halloween.

Up close as it is to you in this scenario, however, it almost doesn’t feel real.

The mask is tilted in a way that feels like the person behind it is examining you; like a dissection. A hand sprouts from the darkness and shifts it back straight over the person’s face, however, and instantly your worry is no longer an assumption.

If you’d thought before that the tilt felt violating, the full force of Ghostface’s direct gaze actually on you feels heavy enough to strip flesh.

Like acid dripping past your throbbing head, over your face, and down the upper half of your body.

From how crooked the mask was you’d guess that’s what hit you, what’s caused the drowning thump thump pounding through your skull and the stinging sensation traveling across your forehead.

The freak had head butted you.

Slow as you can, you shift your head to the side — hoping there isn’t a streak of blood against the wall left in your wake — just enough to press your temple into the cool wall with a groan.

It’s then Ghostface’s head truly tilts and you get to know what the weight of their curiosity really feels like.

The movement itself is silent, but the click of a tongue and the hand that comes up to press over your forehead is not.

At the first touch of covered fingers to your dark skin your blood practically flash-freezes in your veins.

Gritting your teeth against your possible concussion you make a valiant attempt to meld into the wall, but a hand making itself remembered once more on your hip keeps you from fully running away, and the other reaching for you doesn’t relent.

“You’re so pretty like this, Y/n,” Ghostface’s modulated voice says, deep and smooth, as your assailant pushes on the sore area where you temple meets the wall until you turn to face them again; their tongue wrapping possessively around the call of your name without hesitation. “Submitting for me.”

“Jesus,” you whimper, shaking against the insistent feel of their thumb rubbing against the angry vein showing on your temple. “How do you know my—?”

“—Uh uh,” their overbearing timbre cuts in as they pull themselves closer to you, “keep asking questions like that and you’ll ruin the surprise.”

What fucking surprise? Did this asshole plan on dragging this out all night?

Could you figure a way out of this mess by then?

Biting the inside of your lip, you meet the abyss of a gaze in front of you in spite of the chill it sends down your spine. Try to think past the sensation of spiders crawling through your bloodstream that Ghostface’s generous touch elicits.

You swallow, saliva thick past the budding lump in your throat.

“Can you stop?” you force out.

The killer freezes.

You nearly pass out trying to keep yourself from recoiling or apologizing or both by holding your breath before they finally talk again.

“Why? You don’t want me to be concerned?”

Concerned?!

“I don’t,” you say, lips stiff.

What you wanted was to have this over with, not whatever twisted brand of care this Ghostface operated on.

A beat passes where you think they’ll keep pressing, maybe make a point of knocking you again, but then they…stop. Slim hands retreat from your space entirely and down to the killer’s sides.

You doubt their hands will stay still for long, though, and you haven’t thought up how you’re gonna get around them yet — call for your sibling to go get help, maybe?

You cut your eyes at the ghostly specter, at their height and intense focus on you, and remembering the speed they’d ambushed you with earlier you reconsider.

Risking your sibling’s life over a hunch that you already weren’t confident on wasn’t happening. There was no part of you that believed you’d stand a chance at overpowering this Ghostface long enough for no one but you to get hurt.

Something glints in the corner of your eye and you come out of your head with a start. There’s a knife in the killer’s hand now, twisting and twirling around deft fingers before their gaze swings back to you and the blade swings out to lazily point your way.

“Planning?”

“No.”

They laugh, likely not trusting your answer for a moment.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. We can play a game instead.” They pivot once, angling their body towards the door closest, and your heart skips a beat. “I spy with my little eye something that squeaks and creaks and leads to fresh meat.”

And just in case you managed to miss the killer’s meaning, they use the tip of their knife to point towards your sibling’s closed bedroom door twice in a motion too similar to stabbing for your liking.

“What do you think?” they ask, and take a slow deliberate step to the door right afterwards.

“Don’t!”

Lunging across the space Ghostface has made between you, you grab hold of their wrist with trembling hands and bite the proverbial bullet.

The “Please,” comes falling out your mouth like water, and only a tinge of something sour follows it.

Ghostface doesn’t do so much as twitch when they glance back at you, though, shoulders shaking under the cloak.

“‘Please’,” they repeat, roiling laughter clear even through the distortion, “but I thought you didn’t want my concern?”

“I’ll scream,” you counter, pushing past the sinking in your gut to bring your other hand up to form a double clamp around the killer.

Bottomless perpetually gaping eye cutouts stare back at glistening ebony brown eyes for one breath— four, until you yank.

There is no plan when you rush past them, just the sinking feeling that something was going to have to give soon and the knowledge that you’d be damned if it was the person in the room you're running to.

Your hand is on the doorknob, your sibling’s name on the tip of your tongue, when a sound cracks through the air. Your leg buckles, there’s a pressure at the back of your knee, the heat of another body latches onto your back, a hand claps over your mouth, and then you’re tipping over.

Ghostface brings you down with so little fanfare you’d be embarrassed if you had the wherewithal. Wrestles your flailing ass to the floor right in front of the door and keeps you down with their legs pinning your hips.

It’s not until you hit the floor that everything catches up with you.

Heat like you’ve never known screams from the bend of your knee like a piping kettle, and the wail that scratches its way up your throat when you instinctively try to get away by gaining purchase on the tile with your injured leg leaves you shaking into the floor.

With a chuckle your attacker shushes you, gloved hand made wet from your drool and tears patting against your open mouth.

“Shhh.” They shift back and you whimper at the feel of every millimeter of movement that even that small motion forces your foot to make. “You wouldn’t want your little sibling to hear, would you?”

The voice modulator makes the question sound even more taunting and the deep timber of it curls your toes — the twitch making your left leg burn — coming from so close to your ear.

Gloved fingers run along the serrated edges of the hole in your cracked knee where the knife’s still embedded, circling the pounding back of your leg until shivers rack up your body.

The touch is light.

You want to saw your leg off so you never have to deal with even the memory of the feel of it ever again.

“I’d hate to have to deal with him if he comes to investigate the strange noises, yeah?” they say, pausing right afterwards.

It’s a prompt if you’ve ever heard one. They even lift their hand from your leg.

Mind whirling with thoughts of the blood seeping out the sides of your knee to stain the floors and the agony emitting from the stab wound it takes you a few seconds to answer.

You force your words out past your shaky lips eventually, however. The stuttering agreement tasting like ash on your tongue.

“Good girl,” the modulated voice damn near coos in response, and part of you wishes you’d gotten stabbed through the ears instead.

There’s shuffling from above you, the sounds of fabric slipping over something barely registering over the rushing of blood through your ears.

You’re bleeding—

You’ve been stabbed—

Fuck, your leg is on fire—

Without an ounce of remorse deft fingers press down on where the back of your knees’ been stabbed through again, hand holding tight to the side of your leg, and a whimper falls unbidden past your lips.

Breathy, throaty, feminine laughter sounds right beside your ear as your killer settles over you.

Soft lips brush the shell of your ear and wispy black locks of hair fall into your peripheral.

“I guess it was me after all,” a voice you recognize croons, barren of any modulation.

Holy shit, Mindy had been right.

“A- Amber…?”

Your voice is small where you get it out from between pants for breath, leg throbbing hard enough to cut your focus completely.

Nothing feels real except for the throbbing, not the floor beneath you or the drool running down your chin.

“Mhm,” she giggles, breath ticking the side of your neck and making you shiver. It only takes a second for her to shiver back, breathe against your skin stuttering when she groans and presses down harder on your wound. You mewl and can feel exactly how Amber’s smile spreads. “Aww, just like that, Hun. Now we’re getting to the good part.”

Amber rises up from over you and then relentlessly grabs ahold of your shoulders and has you twist around until your upper body is facing her, and fifty percent of your concentration has to go to keeping your lower body in the opposite direction than the rest of you so you don’t aggravate your knee anymore.

Hair wild and damp with sweat atop her head the smile she gives you is all teeth in the faint moonlight that halos her face.

“Bet you’re reconsidering who you got close to now, huh?”

You grit your teeth, trying and failing to get enough leverage so you can spit in her face.

At the angle she’s forced you into her weight over your hips was more effective than you’d thought, though. Spitting from where you were would only serve in getting you smacked in the face with your own saliva.

“Gah— fuck! It’s not Mindy’s fault you’re a fucking sociopath,” you say behind clenched teeth.

You wonder if your friend would care if you died. Would Mindy cry when your death was announced? Would she immediately suspect Amber again? Confront her?

You’d been the one to comfort her when the news about Tara had come through before Chad could get to you guys. She’d struggled for a few minutes before a few tears had trickled down her cheeks, tears that she’d wiped away with a personal vengeance until you took one of her hands and wove your fingers together. Mindy had given you this wide look you’d never seen before, hazel eyes lost, before finally letting herself sob curled up to your side with her hand in yours. Did you hold that same amount of space in her mind, though?

In her heart?

Amber clicks her tongue, and instantly you’re reminded that whether Mindy and you could’ve ever been more than friends won’t matter anymore. “Wrong answer, Sweetie,” she says, and without another word rips the knife from your body in one pull.

Just barely you manage to stop the scream you want to let out by clamping down on your lower lip, teeth completely bypassing putting an indent into the skin and instead cutting directly through the plush of it as you buck uncontrollably against Amber.

Chest heaving and with tears sprouting in your eyes and beginning to pool, you watch for her next move and are heartbroken to say you aren’t disappointed.

With a flourish she brings the knife up to your face. You watch it with wide shaky eyes, heart sounding louder than your labored breaths in your ears.

The sharp side of the blade runs feather light down the side of your face, her gaze intent on it. On how the silver contrasts with the little streams of blood it leaves in its wake against your dewy brown skin. On how your lashes flutter anxiously, and the muscles in your face twitch beneath her touch.

“I didn’t mean that,” she says softly. She shifts the blade so that she can splay the flat of it over your mouth and purses her lips, eyes glittering and crazed and a little hurt. “I meant that you should’ve picked me, Sweetheart. I like you. And I like that you were thinking about me so much you figured me out. If you had just picked me I would’ve spared you,” she whispers last, face closer to yours now, before leaning in to press a kiss to the other side of the blade over your quivering lips.

The scent of your own blood makes your stomach roil, but the feel of her breath fanning your skin and the ecstatic expression that takes over her face when she leans away to lick her lips forces a sob from you.

Shuddering, you look up at her, a tear finally breaking free to roll down your face.

There is no one to hold you when you break.

Amber giggles, the flash of her teeth bloody.

“Just let me do it,” she whispers, voice low as she moves to run the warm tip of the knife down your side. “Be good for me, be mine this once, and I won’t go into that room and paint those walls red with your sibling’s blood.”

And so you cooperate; biting down into your forearm as muffled cries and wails tear up your throat. Amber plunges the blade deep, hits organs and cracks through bone with low grunts, and each stab feels like a little more of your soul drifting away.

You jolt, she adjusts her weight to accommodate your pained reaction like it’s practiced. You bite down so hard you break skin, teeth sinking into your body and feeling like masochistic relief that at least this pain was your own doing, she leans over to lick around your teeth with a groan. She gives and you take and you don’t scream out loud.

What a perfect victim you’ve made.

The tears never stop flowing from your eyes. So much salt they begin to burn alongside the bite in your arm that’s steadily mixing with blood and snot, and the entire rest of your body that’s near indistinguishable apart from the pain.

Nothing feels real except for the way Amber rides out your death spasms and the never ending stream of pleas to keep yourself silent that have long since turned into a sequenced tune in your head that you’re already forgetting.

As Amber’s honeyed taunts follow you under you know without debate that you have never known pain so intimate as what she’s brought upon you, and nothing so tender as death’s incoming embrace.

At least your younger sibling would be okay.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!! I tried posting this yesterday, but it wasn’t showing up under any of the tags so I’m trying again. ❤︎

I missed some shit when editing for sure, but I will come back to catch them later. I also don’t know how I feel about the way this flows, but maybe I just need to not look at it for a bit idk.

So the reader-insert may not have actually died here, but I don’t know for sure just yet. I would like for the second part to be a GF!Mindy x Reader-Insert x Jealous!Amber type deal though.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

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raspberryjamnnn · 6 months ago

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my phone has categorized multiple anime girls as the same person

#blogging #im trying to find the pattern and its looking like black/dark hair with bangs #although the anime girl at the top is honestly the least fitting of that categorization so idk #also present in this profile is adult mob; fem serizawa; and both light and L

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thisisnotnectarinex · 10 months ago

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time to get weak for your glittery Goddess~ my site | links | wish list

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kaifish-pond-afterdark · 7 months ago

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Rodrick x Plus Size Black Reader Ficlet

I Love My Hair & Body

Rodrick x Plus Size Black Fem Reader

Spicy Level: 🌶️🌶️/🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

I look at myself in the mirror, turning to view my booty. It’s so cute! Not super big, really just a little less than average, not exactly flat, but not super juicy either. It’s firm. I like it tho, I like my pudgy tummy too, my adorable apron belly that covers the top of my vulva. My brown vulva is darker than my belly, my inner thighs are too. I have a lot of hyperpigmentation. My skin has a lot of texture, I stare at it in the mirror, a smile breaks out and I double finger gun myself.

“Lookin good!” I say, turning around to press my chest together, saggy, scabby, acne-scarred. Uniquely human. I think to myself. I catch Rodrick looking at me, a smile on his own face. He’s beaming, he comes up behind me and kisses my neck.

“You are lookin good Babe.” He wraps his arms tightly around me, pulling my naked body against his clothed one. It’s taken years to get to this point, I’m aware of how many people don’t love their bodies. Some days I still struggle, but I know my body is sexy. My body is for me, and because of that, it only matters how I feel about it. I look at our bodies in the mirror. We look so adorable, so beautiful, such a perfect couple.

Rodrick spins me around to kiss me on the mouth, “I love you.” He says my name and I feel myself melt into him. He pulls away, and I start getting dressed, I put on a pair of pink boyshorts and one of Rodrick’s band tees. He doesn’t hang out with Loded Diper much anymore, and I’m a bit sad about that. I liked his band, but Rodrick works a lot now, and doesn’t have much free time. The free time he does have he spends with me; taking me to dinner, or walking around the park.

Rodrick pats between his legs on the bed, my hair styling tools in his hand and next to him, “C’mere babe and let me do your hair.” Rodrick had spent hours a day when we first got together learning how to style 4c hair. Now he’s my main stylist when I can’t get to the salon.

I hum happily as he works through my fro, “Did you grab the crochet hair I bought the other day?” I ask, moaning as he massages my scalp with oil. He holds the package in front of my face.

“Sure did.”

We spend the better part of the day doing my hair, Rodrick giving me plenty of breaks and ordering me food when I get hungry.

As I’m eating, I feed him a fry every so often, his skilled hands move effortlessly through my head, we both belt out lyrics from his band, giggling and reminiscing.

“Thank you for spending my day off with me.” Rodrick says kissing the top of my head.

“Anytime!” I get up and look in the mirror, my locs look beautiful, never mind the slight discomfort.

We spend the rest of the day watching tv, listening to music and dancing around.

As the day draws to a close I change into pjs, watching Rodrick do the same with hungry eyes. He crawls into bed, and kisses me gently. We makeout for a while, getting handsy. I’m hairy, not that anyone minds.

Sleep comes easy, intertwined in each other’s arms, the night is quiet and calm.

All is well.

#rodrick heffley #adult rodrick #poc reader #black fem reader #plus size reader #rodrick ficlet #ficlet #romance

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dxddykenn · 9 months ago

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I wanted to be like my favs and start writing but don’t really how lol…but I’m going to post what I have so far since it’s been on my mind 🙃.

Two can play

scene: strip club

Imagine your man is going out to the strip club with his brothers and invites you to join. You politely decline not wanting to interrupt a boys night out until your homegirls decide to go to the same club.

Trevante watches as you come up the few stairs towards him and wraps his arms around your waist pulling you to him “Yo what you on” he says directly in your ear. “Huh what are you talking about pa” you respond. “I thought you didn’t want to come out and I look up to see you shaking ass with your friends. You didn’t even let me know you were coming”. Tre wasn’t an insecure man by any means but he didn’t play when it came to making sure you were safe. “For what you’re having fun with your brothers, I told you I wasn’t trying to interrupt” you respond. He pulls you closer “Mama why you tryna play with me hmm…I’m warning you now chill out” “Are you challenging me daddy?” you purr looking into his eyes. “Nah i’m just letting you know don’t try me” “Hmm” you lean in brushing your lips against his “If I were you I wouldn’t start something that you can’t finish, you know I don’t lose” you finish as you see someone walking up to you both. You look over as you recognize the girl that was dancing on him earlier as she speaks up “Hey love you ready for your dance” she questions looking at him. Trevante glances over at her ready to correct her for interrupting you both from talking. You giggle and look at him with a seductive look “Go ahead and enjoy your dance I’m going back” you say as you start to pull away. “Nah i’m tryna talk to you” he says as he holds on to your hips tighter. “It’s fine” you laugh lowly as you look into his eyes again “Have a goodnight Mr. Rhodes” you respond as you turn around and walk away with a sway in your hips.

Trevante POV

I stand there watching Y/N walk away as she looks back and we both smirk. Since she wants to play I’ll show her, two can play.

#black reader #black oc #black!fem!reader #black female writers #adult fanfiction #first fic

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leafmealoooone · 4 months ago

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The difference between a neurtypical person's food preferences and an autistic person's is that not wanting pickles on you hamburger is considered totally normal but I still regularly get mocked for not being able to tolerate black pepper in any food

#actually autistic #food mention #Even better is when people assume things about my ethnicity because of the pepper thing #For the record it's black pepper specifically not all spicy foods. I'm a sucker for gochujang #Love how my neurotypical brother can have nope foods and it's just his taste but when I do the same thing I'm a picky pathological whimp #Don't even get me started on how being fem means if I mention having nope foods someone will try to diagnosed me with an eating disorder #ed mention #ableism #autistic adult

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beautifulfaaces · 2 years ago

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Susan Kelechi Watson

Facts

November 11, 1981

American actress

Filmography

Beth [This is us: 2016-2022]

Ellie [The Blacklist: 2013-2016]

Cindy [The Following: 2015]

Janet [Louie: 2012-2014]

Emma [Third Watch: 2004-2005]

Appearance

black hair

brown eyes

1.73m

Roleplay

playable: young adult, adult

#Susan Kelechi Watson #fem 80s #fem american #80s fem american #this is us #the blacklist #the following #louie #third watch #black fem young #black fem adult #80s fem black #brown eyes fem young #brown eyes fem adult #80s fem brown eyes #young adult female #adult female

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risingoftime · 2 years ago

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How have you been?🫠

i'm okay! but adulting is ghetto. I just want to sit and write my silly little stories and sit in the sun, but no, I have to work.

#x black fem reader #fic writing #x black reader #adulting #꒰ঌYOU’VE GOT MAIL໒꒱

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apocalypse-shuffle · 3 months ago

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BLADE | ERIC BROOKS (1990 trilogy)

—

“Argent” (Blade | Eric Brooks x Fem!Reader)

| Eric sets up a meeting between him and one of the only vampires he’s ever trusted. Truly trusted. It’s less about business and more about pleasure however.

| NSFW, 18+, minors dni, canon typical action & violence mentioned, blood drinking, oral sex, blowjob (male receiving), cunnilingus (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), (TW: Eric drugs the Reader-Insert to kidnap her; she doesn’t mind and he gives her the antidote immediately, but yeah) mild-ish rough sex, pain play, blood play

| Pic Source: Blade (1998) - ignore the context of the last photo, okay, the pictures were too perfect to pass up

| Happy 4 days till Halloween!!!🩸

| 5k+ words

Your sight has still yet to clear and your veins are still on fire from failing to run away and being hit by a dart.

Liquidized Silver.

You take a second to feel the way your veins burn, and yeah, it was definitely still in you.

Who did you piss off now?

You groan, head swiveling without purpose on your neck, and crack open your eyes. Just as you’ve blinked the black from the corner of your vision you feel someone else appear in your presence.

Or maybe they’ve been around you this whole time and you’ve just been too out of it to pick up their heartbeat or scent.

You suck in and then let out a rush of air you don’t need.

“Fucker,” you curse, frown twisting at your lips.

An unnaturally smooth palm cups your cheek and then drifts to the back of your head, propping you up as another hand pries your lips open. You’re held tightly against someone’s buff form as a wrist, bleeding fresh, is held against your mouth.

You moan without preamble, fangs dropping, and plunge eagerly into his offering. You’ve been poisoned, nothing was going to neutralize the shit swimming in you like pure blood was.

There’s an answering groan behind you and you can’t help but savor the taste even more. Human blood was delectable, but daywalker blood was an out of body experience. You whimper as he pulls his wrist from your fangs sooner than you’d like but then rush to lap up the remaining blood around the closing wound.

Once the dark wrist in front of you is cleared of every bit of liquid red you sigh out.

"You could just call, you know…?" you mutter against his skin before he moves his hand.

There’s an answering grunt behind you and then you’re spun around. It’s Blade’s smug face that greets you, devoid of his shades for once, and you roll your eyes.

“You didn’t answer your phone.”

“I didn’t answer…” you screw your face up at him. “Motherfucker, did you bother calling more than once?”

He grins at you.

“By that reasoning I should’ve tracked you down the second I saw your black ass plastered all over the news after you declined my calls.”

“Phone got blown up. And why didn’t you? Could’ve used the help,” he side eyes the door to whatever bedroom he’s got you in, “and someone I can actually stand.”

You laugh, “So the rumors about you hanging with a new crew are true?”

He reaches for you and when you accept his advance he circles his arms around your waist.

He scoffs, nostrils flaring, and stares you down. “Mostly out of necessity.”

“Mmm,” your fingers drum over his chest. Only a thin black shirt keeps you from his skin. “I was dealing with my own shit show so I couldn’t have helped anyway.”

You give him a tight lipped smile. Your hands press over where his heart miraculously beats.

“I’m sorry about Whistler, by the way.”

Blade goes morose for a second, stilling while he takes in your words with a vague nod. The only steadying sound left is the pat pat of his supernatural heart. It’s nice to be near one that operates so well, that won’t accelerate in fear around you.

In the next beat his lips purse and he glances away from you.

“You didn’t come here to talk about my life did you?”

You frown.

“You kidnapped me, actually, but message received. I won’t bring him up again.”

Those amber eyes pin you in place for another mini eternity before he thanks you. The mirth trickles back into his expression then, and you relax.

He chuckles when you wrap your hands around his shoulders.

“So then. I’ve been staying out of trouble, Daywalker. Do I get a cookie?”

“Yeah,” he rasps. One corner of his mouth twitches upward. “Here’s your fucking cookie.”

He slams his lips onto yours, just about kissing you dead a second time with how long he takes before separating for air. You take a second to regain yourself, forehead pressed against his as his soft breaths puff against your mouth. Despite his pants he grins, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth while you piece your thoughts back together.

You clear your throat.

"I heard about Dracula’s little cult too by the way, but if you brought me here to interrogate me about it you’ve wasted your time.”

Blade doesn’t answer right away. Instead his lips trail across your jaw and down your neck, coarse facial hair tickling your skin. One of his hands runs up your body and the other ghosts across the side of your neck.

"The true Dracula’s business doesn’t have shit to do with this. I was just…craving your company,” he says, biting the delicate skin over your jugular.

You gasp at the sudden sharp movement but arch against him at the familiar prick of his bat-like incisors making a sizable mark on you. He kneads your skin gently with them, but doesn’t pierce the skin for any blood.

"Let me take you...." he whispers, leaning back and ripping one of his gloves off.

Your throat grows tight as his fingertips run down your cheek, the stolen blood in your body singing across the dark skin that he touches.

"You screamed so loud for me last time… . Let me get you like that again."

With inhuman speed, he pushes your back against the wall, one of his legs wedging between your own. The hands on your hips pull you further onto his muscled thigh and he begins to rub you up and down on it.

A mewl slips past your lips at the sudden movement, feet fighting for purchase on the floor and hands resting on his shoulders for balance. Before long your mewls are replaced by breathy moans and you can’t help jerking and pushing down against Blade’s thigh, hands clawing desperately at his shirt.

You bite back a groan of annoyance, but a growl escapes in its absence and you rip his shirt apart in seconds. A small growl emits from his lips and Blade nabs your wrists, yanking your hands from his chest. He gives you a sideways look.

“Really?”

You lean your upper body forward with a shrug. It’s a little hard to do with the way he’s restraining you but you make it work.

“You're not the only one craving something, Daywalker. Now are you gonna make me cum or not?”

He grins, a mean flash of white against his umber skin before letting you go.

"Fine. I'll give you what you want."

You don’t have time to do anything with your newly renewed mobility because in the next second he’s back on you. Lips meet yours for one more enveloping kiss before he leans away. His deft fingers trail over your mouth and he hums as his eyes shine with a dark sort of mirth.

"How about you put that mouth to better use."

His voice is rough as his index and middle fingers slide into your mouth, his other hand squeezing your ass. You glare, eyes gaining their yellow vampiric appearance, but ultimately don’t complain. Instead you look him dead in the face and slowly swirl your tongue around his digits then suck on them gently. A smirk pulls at the corner of your mouth when the mirth fades from his eyes, replaced by a hungrier expression.

"Floor," He orders, regarding you with a steely gaze as his fingers slide out of your mouth. His hands drop to his sides.

Cocky smile in full place, you slide down the wall to your knees. Placing you at eye level with the prominent bulge in his leather pants.

His eyes, now alight with lust, never leave your own and he quickly unhooks his belt and fly before dropping his hands for you to do the rest.

Blade hisses as you pull his pants down, his curved dick immediately jumping out at you, and you chuckle before wrapping fingers only marginally warmed by stolen blood around his shaft.

“Mmm, someone’s eager,” you tease.

Quick as very few things in your world were, his hand flashes forward. One of his now bare hands cups your jaw, allowing you a moment to nuzzle into it, before his free hand grasps the back of your head to urge you forward.

The way his grip shifts, loosening and tightening in a few steady increments, tells you just how much he’s struggling to keep himself under control. It’s a heady power to hold.

After all, he could never keep his monstrous tendencies under as much tight control when he was around you.

Eric looks down at you and scoffs. His amber gaze flares when he taps at the top of your head and a smirk, pushing against well worn frown lines, ticks up one corner of his mouth.

“I’m not the one on my knees.”

A part of you wants to shiver. The other knows you’re too undead for such poultry shit, but is tempted to pantomime the reaction anyway.

It doesn’t take long for you to make yourself tremble for him; your monster cowering in the face of his mounting one. Like you were some brown skinned starlet in a flowing white dress; distressed but still with your teeth barred in the face of the big bad wolf.

There wasn’t anything safe as that here though, just the cut of the daywalker’s grin and the slow baritone build up of a growl in the back of his throat.

Yet, his human side was still as dangerous as his vampire, you muse, kitten licking the head of his dick with your cool tongue.

Comparatively, Eric’s entire body is miraculously warm and the way his dick twitches and pulses over your mouth is nearly intoxicating.

Eric grunts, his hand tangling into your hair as he watches you. With a low hum you place sloppy kisses down his shaft, cupping his balls as you lick a hard line across the veins on the underside of his dick. He groans when your tongue swirls over his precum slick glans.

When he tries urging you forward, head pressed to your two-toned lips, you pull off entirely.

Keeping your grin from breaking free is a herculean effort.

Jaw ticking, Eric looks down at you like he’s about to fall. Face open in its desperation and thick lips already bitten ruddy.

"Goddamnit, stop playing games with me, Slick..." he says, voice strained. His hand tightens in your hair and your lashes flutter as you allow yourself another shudder.

Grin finally breaking free, you smile shamelessly up at Eric and wait until he kisses his teeth in irritation to move.

Eyes glinting, you meet his eyes and then take him in fast and deep. The sound of the slide of his back teeth cuts off short with his muffled shout.

His dick twitches in your mouth, heavy and solid on your tongue, an unignorable presence at the back of your throat, and he lets out a filthy sounding moan.

The very sound makes you want to please him more; do something better than just eagerly moving your mouth up and down his shaft. So bobbing your head, you pull back to twirl your tongue around his head before taking him deep again, playing around with the speed and depth of how deep you take him in turn.

After a few minutes his composure has nearly all but been forgotten. One hand remaining tightly wrapped in your coils while he uses the other alternatively for support against the wall and an emergency muffler. His sweat glossed body shuddering in pleasure, growl grumbling in his throat, and the occasional deep curse turned you on more than anything.

Hand gliding over your head until he can cup the side of your ear, he tugs sharply at the pointed tip of it to make you look back up at him. Your stare is only a little cross.

"Hold still." He murmurs, smoothing the pad of one of his fingers over where he’d tugged.

Nodding, you do as ordered and he cups the back of your head again before slowly beginning to thrust into your mouth. His hips snap forward hard and deep and you have to fight to keep your throat from reflexively shutting.

It doesn’t take long for him to speed up, but he only allows it for a moment before pausing and pulling back to guide your mouth over his dick. He coats your plush lips with his pre, the drag slick.

"Fuck, you’re good,” he mutters, eyes intent on his ministrations.

You can’t help but to growl at the prospect of being guided and at his praise.

Eric chuckles.

It’s then, that low pleased croon falling over you, that your own self-control wanes. Your hand wanders between your soft thighs, needing to touch yourself at seeing him so undone. Hating that you loved the idea of him using you for his own pleasure in that moment so much, but helpless against the euphoria of it.

With a jerk, Eric’s dick leaves your mouth entirely and his hand yanks back sharply at the roots of your hair, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"I don’t remember saying you could touch yourself," he warns, eyes bright but hold unrelenting.

You stare up at him with wide eyes for a long moment, dead air still as usual in your chest, then slowly nod your head.

“…correct.”

A light tug.

"So?"

Blinking, your brows furrow briefly before, with a start, you cut your eyes up at him. "So I have to wait for permission to masturbate? That’s how we’re doing this?"

He chuckles, eyeing you just as narrowly with a smirk. "Uh huh,” he grunts, voice as soft as it gets. “Exactly that.”

Finally he starts to move his dick again, dragging it across your cheek and teasing it across your lips. You’re still giving him a sour look though and you watch his teeth grind before he reiterates himself.

"Fine, I’ll be clearer. I haven’t given you permission to touch shit, act like it.”

"Alright,” you mutter, leaning back into his hold. “I got you, E, I’ll behave."

Quickly, you look up at him after the “nickname” slips off your tongue. Eric was picky about that shit, and really the only person you’ve ever seen him not correct or kill for calling him anything other than Eric (or especially Blade) was Whistler.

Eric only hums and loosens his grip on your hair though, scratching carefully over your scalp as you eye him.

No biting comment. Not even a warning look. He doesn’t seem to have caught the abbreviation at all.

Well.

You can’t imagine why he let you calling him outside his name slide, but you weren’t going to speak on it if he isn’t.

With a soft exhale you let your eyelids fall to half mast and nod for him; reconfirming. If he wanted you docile you could play at it for a bit, for him.

“I would’ve let your ass cum earlier if you weren’t so damn impatient,” he reminds you, never one to let you forget you’ve got a wound and he’s got plenty of salt.

You really ought to just deck him in the face, you muse as he strokes himself. There was just truly no way a day could go by without his ass doing far too much.

“Don’t push it,” you mutter.

Eric scoffs, having heard you crystal clear despite your distance and low pitch, and brings his hand down to cup your cheek.

For a few seconds he stays silent, just brushing the soft unblemished pad of his thumb over your brown skin, before his grip grows firm enough to keep your head in place. His hold doesn’t hurt, but it stays a steady reminder that he’s in charge right now and you don’t fight against that, letting him push his dick past your lips and begin thrusting slow and deep once more.

"Mmm, I'll let you cum eventually. All you have to do is listen."

With a noise of confirmation, you start bobbing your head, meeting his thrusts with each pass.

Eric groans low, thrusts deeply, and holds his dick there. The way his chest heaves registers as cute to you, so very human; seemingly too delicate for such a dangerous killer.

"Hn— fuck yes,” he rumbles.

You hum low in your throat, an idea popping into your mind when his hips snap forward on reflex and his pelvis rubs your inner lip against the area above your teeth where your fangs retreat. The pressure threatens to make them drop without your say so.

Silent, you grasp his shaft and slide him out of your mouth with a small pop.

“Y-n—”

"I’m not fucking with you, just hold on," you say, cutting him off as your freezing hand grasps his inferno of a dick.

If Eric minds it’s not enough for him to take himself back; only one of his eyebrows raise in question and that’s the extent of it.

Meeting his gaze, you let your fangs drop with a click — slow enough so he can see, but he still doesn’t stop you — and take his length in once more.

He moans.

Teeth protruding, you take him in until your nose is tucked against his pelvis, fangs scraping against his sensitive dick all the while. Have him swearing under his breath and his hands trembling as he clutches both at the back of your head; your mouth suctioned to him, his hands cushioned by your plush hair, and fingers sunk into your curls the only things keeping him upright.

Your eyes slide shut and you surrender completely to how he uses you, hands clenched painfully against your thighs and blood dilated drool gliding down your chin.

Eric’s head snaps back and his body trembles as his cum coats the back of your esophagus, a garbled shout tearing from his throat.

He holds you in place, likely watching how your throat bobs as you swallow his seed.

After a few minutes of him calming down, breathe hitching at the brush of your fangs when you retract them from his welted flesh and every time you subconsciously swallow, his grip softens and he releases his hold on your head entirely as he slips out of your mouth.

Eric laughs, low and steady and fucking perfect like he practically never does.

It’s only then that you remember to open your eyes and you blink slowly up to him.

His fangs are out now, a trickle of blood running down his chin from where he bit clean through his bottom lip, and his eyes…

You feel yourself sigh before you can stifle the urge, and undeniably he notices because those already bright eyes seem to glow with their amber as they meet yours.

Eric was prettier than one man had any right to be.

He puts his bloody, already healing, dick away and zips his pants back up. Something you’ll be sure to rectify after you’ve let the man sleep before you slip back into the night. Dhampir or not Eric shouldn’t have the beginnings of bags under his eyes, not with his healing factor.

But Eric’s inability to allow himself to slow down was something you had plenty of practice with amending by now; whether that be with a fight or a fuck.

“You gon let me get my hands on you now?”

Something like that.

With inhuman speed you crawl up Eric’s body. Strong shoulders and steady legs hold your weight without budging before his arms wrap around you to keep you in place.

“Bed,” you order, wrapping around him in turn, your ankles crossed at his back and arms around his shoulders.

You smile at him as he’s securing you, full-toothed and a little mean. Run the tips of your sharp manicured nails over the subtle indent of his scalp tattoo and the fine hairs prickling at the back of his head, and wait while he moves you both across the room.

“You’re eager,” Eric grunts, one corner of his mouth ticking up.

Laughing, you lean into him even more, lips grazing the shell of his ear and teeth nipping at his lobe.

“You’re the one carrying me.”

He cuts you a look and you shrug. He can’t tell you shit when you were clearly speaking the truth, though, and his mouth stays steady shut.

"Only the best for the greatest vampire hunter in the world," you snicker, kissing his cheek.

All the Daywalker does in the face of your teasing is grumble unintelligibly and then you’re falling through the air.

You’re flipping him off before you’ve even landed, and your middle finger is still in the air when you’re bouncing atop his mattress.

“Is this new?” you question immediately after, eyes panning over his black sheets and contemplating the higher level of cushion beneath your ass.

Color you surprised that was the way his new “friends’” influence has impacted him. Barely six months ago Eric wouldn’t have thrown away a t-shirt he’d been beaten and mauled in, just thrown it in the wash and stitched the shit back up “good as new”, let alone buy a new mattress without it having basically been split in half.

“Who convinced you— shit!” you exclaim, too slow to speed out of the way so Eric can’t catch you up.

He’s looming over you in a blur, smile almost boyish.

Eric hikes your leg over his hip, warm breathe fanning over your lips, “What I tell you about playing with me?”

The smile that pulls at your lips to meet his own is slow forming but wide.

You cock your head.

“Oh so when you’re in charge you get to fuck with me all you want, but I don’t get to do what I want with you when I am?”

“Stop being a smartass.”

"Having captured the attention of someone as rare as you, Daywalker, I don’t think I can be anymore." You brush your lips against his, taking the hand he’s not using to prop himself up and guiding it where you want him to be. "Now do what you promised, pretty boy," you coo, pressing his hand into your soaked underwear.

It’s damp with a mixture of natural slick and blood and Eric shivers, breath hitching, before quickly stripping you of your panties. The fabric rips and he doesn’t even blink at your noise of complaint, just makes sure you hook your other leg over his hip as he throws your soaked underwear to the ground.

When the dhampir moves to make out with you it’s smothering, the press of his lips all consuming, and the fangs that nip at you sharp. You match him kiss for kiss and bite for bite.

Eric grips your upper thigh tight and you dig the heel of your foot into the small of his back as his fingers glide across your wet folds.

A string of tiny curses and whines for more leave your lips at the sudden fullness of his fingers thrusting into you and his thumb teasing over your clit. Groaning into his mouth, you open your legs wider for him and arch into his touch, eyes squeezing shut.

"Nng, Eric please,” you moan into his skin, your hands scrambling up to wrap around his shoulders.

His pounding is relentless, only just missing your g-spot on every thrust, but you want more.

You sink your fingers into his cropped hair, yanking on his tight curls and pushing down at him with your other hand on his shoulder to urge him where you want.

Eric chuckles, letting up from your mouth to nip little welts down your throat and place tender kisses to your neck and collarbones as he moves his fingers, still simultaneously thrusting and rubbing your clit. It doesn’t take long till your legs are shaking uncontrollably against him and he’s hiking both over his shoulders though.

You nearly sob in relief when he finally runs the point of his fangs over your outer labia, engorged clit pulsing with the assistance of the stolen blood still in your veins (both Eric’s and not).

When Eric delves into your sex it’s with the vigor of a man starved. He licks and sucks and drinks his fill all while you’re bucking your hips into his mouth, muted unbidden whimpers falling past your kiss bitten lips.

His hands rub soothingly up and down your raised thighs, heedless of their trembling over your stomach and the way you let your chest heave.

"You about to come for me already?" he chuckles against your folds, voice cocky.

Not giving you time to snap at him he takes one of his hands off your thighs, trusting you to keep it up, and makes a point of waiting until you open your eyes to question his dawdling before making his next move. Eric locks eyes with you, rubbing two fingers through the pale red arousal pouring from your vagina with little urgency, and you’re a beat of his heart away from swiping at him for fucking with you when his fingers sink into your slick pussy.

You shout, that nebulous point of euphoria edging nearer.

His hand speeds up soon after. Once again giving you little mercy while he pistons his fingers in and out of you and your slick runs down your dewy skin without care for the sheets under you.

Vampiric claws scrape at Eric’s ink decorated shoulders as you pepper him with demands and bits of praise, only stopping to hiss out roughly in pleasure with your fangs bared when he takes to sucking on your clit like he’s trying to draw blood.

“Fuck,” you growl, eyes rolling to the back of your head and hips bucking wildly.

Eric pins you down, spread of his hands wide where he’s holding onto your thighs, and bites. The juncture between your leg and pelvis flares with pain and you choke before pitching into a wail and falling straight over the edge into an orgasm.

You barely have the mind to snap your arm up so you can bite into your forearm and muffle your noises as Eric sinks his fangs into you and drinks even more of his fill. And whatever crimson mead he got from your vagina clearly hadn’t been enough because the man was sucking on you like a damn Capri Sun.

“J— Jesus fuck, E,” you gasp, slumping into the bed.

Your legs tremble with the aftershocks of your orgasm. The sounds of his gulps the soundtrack to your hazy bliss.

When he’s finished Eric doesn’t lap at you the way you had his wrist; instead he pulls off, easing your legs to flop down to the bed too, and rubs his thumb over the trickles of blood running from your inner thigh.

He holds his thumb up to your lips and you open up to suck it into your mouth. Your ice cold blood is a cacophony of types. A mixture of AB, O, and B dance across your tongue while Eric gazes down at you like you’re the closest thing to a god he’ll ever need.

Eric removes his thumb, sucks at your saliva, and then slumps against you.

The vampire hunter kisses delicately over the undead umber skin of your forehead, the press of his lips soft and unscarred.

You let yourself sigh, stretching out your body as your refractory period ends, and tuck yourself under your occasional partner’s chin.

When Eric — big bad Blade — cradles you to his chest in turn your eyebrows tick up. Head resting against his chest, you drum the pads of your fingers over where his heart beats and go with it anyway.

“Touchy,” you hum lowly.

Eric grunts in response, pretty much just ignoring the twinge of accusation in your voice.

You grin into his skin.

It was worth a shot.

“How long till you leave?” he asks, tone his poorest attempt at nonchalance yet even with his grumbling.

You sigh, shifting in his hold so you can look him in the face. His arms tighten around you, the gaze he pins you with shadowed with something too close to sorrow.

"As soon as possible," you say, a frown pulling at your ageless features. “I’ve got some time sensitive targets.”

“Mm,” he grunts. He looks away from you, jaw clenched. “So I’m outta luck.”

“Oh I wouldn’t say that yet,” you say, moving to kiss the corner of his scowl. “I can spare a night.”

“Huh.” He squeezes at your hips. “You sure? Thought you’d be more into all that sleeping in coffins bullshit.”

You chuckle, tone dark. Skilled fingers brush across his jawline, touch delicate and nails sharp where they dip into his skin.

They don’t break blood, however.

And Eric doesn’t stop you besides.

Softly, you click your tongue, “I mean, I like a good coffin every once in a while. Frills, fluffy pillows, dark and locked tight, you know the drill.” Meeting his eyes, you smirk. Show him a little fang. “Your arms are good too, though.”

“Thanks.” Eric gives a grunt of a laugh, shaking his head.

He doesn’t remotely dislodge you though, and that shadow you could see slipping over his face stays askew over those pretty amber eyes still.

You could spare a night with Eric, be something of a haven of familiarity for him, before he embarked on another hunt and you went back to knocking out hearts in the name of human protection for breakfast.

Or you know…in the name of your own bloodlust.

Tomato, Tamato.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!!!!!

Yeah, I tried.

The reader-insert isn’t on her period, I just kind of went the ‘blood is every bodily fluid’ route for the vampires here ala True Blood. And I know the rule is not to use teeth ever (and for good reason) but I just find the idea that vampires are built different fun.

Also, if this is bad you can tell me, but please be nice. I’ve been working on this thing all day and I’m tired. And honestly by the time I got to the reader-insert’s orgasm I only had four hours and thirty minutes left in the day.

Mind any typos, I’m half asleep rn, and I’ll probably catch them later.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

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thinkinonsense · 27 days ago

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-cravings.

cw: feral!logan, breeding kink, pervy!logan, marking, TA/ co-workers relationship, belly bulge, oral (fem receiving), gross!logan, squirting, male masturbation, spitting, slight praise kink, slight hair tugging, pet names, slightly grinding on abs? pantie play?

summary: logan's in a rut and only his sweet girl can help him.

a/n: so i pictured dofp!logan but x trilogy!logan also works! hope you enjoy <3 also also not proof read so sorry for any errors

"scott, have you seen logan?" your delicate voice fills the study as you pass by, looking for your mentor.

logan has been missing all day, which isn't the most unusual thing but it is odd that he said he would train with you today and yet, he's nowhere to be found.

"charles said he wasn't feeling well." scott replied, barely gazing up at you. "he's probably still in bed."

you nod, turning around to head upstairs and check on logan like any good friend would.

the floorboards creek under your light foot steps down the hall. charles, hank, and storm took the kids to a lab overnight to work on their final projects. the rest of the adult were either training or lesson planning. the wooden door glowed with golden light illuminating the rim, so warm and welcoming.

one knock turned into three and four. all of them unanswered, leaving you slightly alarmed. this wasn't like logan to ignore you.

❀༉‧₊˚

meanwhile, beyond the wooden door, logan sat on his bed trying to get a grip on this feeling. it's happened before, the familiar warmth that spreads all over. a primal craving attempting to claw its way out of him.

normally, he can hide out until the rut is over but now it is different. now logan has his eyes on someone. not just someone though.

it's the girl he's been warned not to fall for. charles, jean, hank and scott have all told logan that he's not to make a move on you. the girl who's too pure for a big bad wolf like him. for once, he listened and steered clear of you, no matter how pretty you were.

until you signed up to be his teachers assistant.

now with the close proximity, logan is tortured by your scent. the sweet cherry he's become familiar with haunts his deepest thoughts. he could perfectly trace every outline on your body without even trying. honestly, he found it quite sickening how you've carved your spot in his mind.

next to him on the mattress are a pair of your panties from yesterday. he remembered seeing the slight flash of light blue from under your skirt when you dropped your pen in the hallway. there's a damp patch on them, calling his name in mocking tones.

"logan..?" your meek voice was barely audible behind the door. "can i please come in?"

a low growl hums in his chest at the sound of your voice. he wants nothing more than to let you inside and ravish you in the way he desires; but he doesn't want to scare you off.

"not now, sweetheart." he grunts almost as if he's in pain.

"a-are you okay?"

logan couldn't see you but he could picture your concerned face. scrunched eyebrows and wide bambi eyes, lips in a pout. god, he could just eat you up.

" 'm fine." his voice sounds rough, like a bark. he would never yell at you but he needed you to walk away because the feeling of his cock being suffocated in his jeans was killing him.

"alright." you whine. "see ya later then, lo."

soon enough he heard your footsteps down the hall, logan quickly strips himself of his black shirt, dark blue jeans and his boxers. without hesitation he reaches over to grab that panties he had taken from your hamper.

"fuck, smells so sweet." he groans, nose pressed against the soft soaked cotton as he tugs his throbbing cock. spreading the pearly beads of pre-cum.

with his senses clouded and a fire ignited in him, he kitten licks the patch, letting your slick dance on his tongue. picturing your legs wrapped around his head, how your tight hole would take his tongue or his fingers and the little noises that would escape you.

"that's my sweet pussy. all mine." logan mumbles possessively under his breath before spitting into the material and bringing it to his cock, using it to jerk off.

as his orgasm approaches, the fire intensifies; sweat dripping down his temples the faster his hand moves. abs also dripping in sweat as his chest rapidly moves up and down. mind swarmed with all the positions logan wants to put you in.

"s-shit." logan curses, clenching his teeth as his vision blurs and euphoria washes over him. ropes of cum spill all over his abs and happy trail, creating a sticky messy.

left alone and panting, covered in his release, logan's still unsatisfied. he knew there was only one thing that could fix this.

❀༉‧₊˚

it's near midnight when you finally hear logan leave his room. heavy boots heading towards the stairs, right by your room.

"where are you going, lo?" you ask, peaking out of your bedroom to catch him. he stops but doesn't acknowledge you. "gonna leave me here all alone?"

logan could've sworn that you would be asleep at this hour and he could leave to find some woman at the bar to help with his... situation.

"scott's around here somewhere." he dryly replies, trying to avoid your gaze.

"he left a few hours ago." you mumble, nervously messing with the bottom of your nightgown.

something was off about logan; you just couldn't figure out what it was. he wouldn't even look at you. had you done something wrong? was he upset with you? why was he avoiding you?

"i-is everything alright?" you ask, worried for the answer.

logan take a minute to respond, scratching the scruff on his face while he thinks. just because he looks strong doesn't mean he is internally. logan found his weakness in you. a woman he's known for a little over a year and yet you could bring him to his knees if you so pleased.

suddenly, logan turns and looks at you. he sucks in his breath sharply when he saw you dressed in a cute tiny white nightgown. logan was positive that you were the closest he will ever get to meeting an angel.

the material ends high up on your thighs and he swears that in this light he can see the outline of your nipples, watching how they pebble from the cool air in the hallway.

"it's just cravings." he finally answers, tearing his eyes off of your pretty shape.

the moment logan makes eye contact with you, you notice how the color changed from a light hazel to bordering black. he looked hungry. you've heard of this before, a feral state that mutants like him enter every six months or so and if you knew better, you would run.

"anything i can help you with?" you ask, batting your long lashes up at him.

"it's real dirty work, princess." logan warns, restraining himself from jumping at the opportunity.

"i don't mind." you tell him. in that moment, a familiar aroma hits him. "i wanna help you, logan."

normally, logan wouldn't let things get this far. sure, the two of you have made sly flirty comments in the past but it's never gone past just words.

he watches you walk back into your room, keeping the door open for him.

❀༉‧₊˚

your bedroom was damn near exactly how logan pictured it. soft earth toned colors, pretty sheets, messy desk with all the paperwork you two do together. most importantly, it smelled like you. not your perfume or whatever candle you lit earlier. this was different.

"logan..." your voice pulls him back to reality. "tell me what you want me to do."

so considerate. logan thinks to himself as he watches you sit with your knees against the mattress and look up at him like a dog looking at its owner, waiting for an order.

without a warning, logan crashes his lips against yours. it hot and messy how he almost swallows you whole. both of you have waited forever for this moment.

logan lays you flat on the mattress, not breaking the kiss. your teeth bite down on his bottom lip at the small thud. you go to whisper an apology but it's covered by logan's loud groaning.

he take this opportunity to grind against you, only covered in a pair of matching white panties. if he was in a clearer head space, he would've thought this was planned.

"u-uh, please." you whimper against his lips, lifting your hips a little to meet his.

it's quite cute how pathetic you look right now. struggling for more. logan latches his lips to your neck, leaving dark maroon bites behind as he moves further south.

at the waistband of your panties, logan nips at the skin on your hipbone, leaving behind a pretty mark to match the others. he craved to be closer to you. pressing his nose into the wet patch and inhaling sharply, grunting at your essence.

a loud squeal falls from your lips as you lazily try to push him away. too embarrassed by the lewd action. nonetheless, logan refuses to move until he's had enough. licking over the cotton and making out with your covered cunt.

"l-logan!" you gasp as he flips you over on your belly with your ass in the air.

the sound of the material ripping fills the room. this was better than logan could've imagined. the sight of your throbbing cunt as it cries for his attention, and only his.

"prettiest fuckin' pussy i've ever seen." he marvels under his breath. "gonna let me use it how i please, princess?"

"mhm." you nod, trying to look back at him. "it's yours, lo."

your words send him on a spiral, he sinks you down on his tongue so he can fuck you at his pace. exploring your walls and reveling in your taste. no dessert in the world could compare to you.

logan grinds against your mattress, desperately seeking relief. not that he's complaining. he's more than happy with his position; and so are you.

there will be bruises on your hips tomorrow, without a doubt because of how tightly logan's gripping your hips. keeping you right where he wants you to be.

"n-need more, please." you moan, fists balling up the sheets.

"what a greedy fuckin' baby." logan says, pulling off of a second to replace his tongue with two thick fingers, stretching you out for him.

pretty little 'uh, uh, uh's' spill from your lips every time you bounce back on logan's fingers. he's hypnotized by the way you manage to coat his finger with your slick. dripping down his palm and onto your sheets.

"look 'atcha, sweetheart." he mutters, doubtful that you can hear him over the obscene sounds coming from your pussy. "struggling to take my fingers. gotta stretch ya' for my cock. think you can take it?"

"mhm!" you answer, feeling a trail of kisses on the back of your thighs as logan speeds up his thrusts, locating your sweet spot with ease.

there's a warmth of pleasure that washes over you. it's different than anything else you've experienced. before you could even figure it out, you to gush all over logan's hand and the sheets.

"she's squeezing me so damn tight." he growls, watching as your pussy spasms from overstimulation, practically knocking the wind out of you. logan has to fight off cumming in his jeans as he licks up your release.

once logan allows you to catch your breath, you turn and say, "i've never um, never done that before."

"fuck." logan curses, smacking his palm down on your ass. "it won't be the last time tonight."

the sound of logan undoing his belt echos in the room. lining the head up to your entrance and slowly sinking into you. your eyes roll back into your head at the stretch. similar to a cat, you arch your back and purr at the feeling.

"f-feel so full." you moan as he picks up his pace.

"that's it, princess." he grunts, moving his hand down your back and wrapping it into your hair. "tell me how good it feels."

and you don't waste a single second to do so.

"you're s-so big, can feel you e-everywhere." you reply in between heavy breaths.

the hand wrapped in your hair tugs you forward so your back is against his chest. with his lips pressed against your ear, he mutters, "everywhere, huh?"

you nod, digging your nails into his thighs with each thrust. his other hand travels from your breast to your lower torso underneath the nightgown. your eyes shoot open as soon as he lightly pushes down.

"can you feel me right here?" he asks, slowing down his strokes for you to focus.

when you don't respond right away, the hand in your hair moves to your jaw, gripping it and angling your gaze down to the large bulge in your belly. you always knew logan was larger than the average man but you didn't even think this was possible.

"y-yes!" you whimper loudly, needing him to go faster.

logan's not religious by any means but in that moment, he wishes he could personally thank god for everyone being gone tonight. he can't imagine having to muffle your little moans right now while he starts pounding back into you.

"gimme kiss, please?" you whisper in between the lewd wet smacks of his heavy balls against your ass.

how could logan turn down his sweet girl? even while being ruined, you still managed to use your manners.

the two of you sloppily make out, exploring each other. he swallows all the whimpers you let out against his lips. except the one from when logan pulls back.

"what are you–?"

"open your mouth and stick out your tongue for me." logan demanded, staring down at you like a feral animal.

you obey, opening up for him like he asks. logan spits on top your tongue, feeling your tight cunt flutter around him. clenching at the taste of him.

"swallow." he says, watching you do so. "what a good girl."

"i'm so f-fucking close, lo." your head falls back against his shoulder as your vision turns white, stars behind your eye lids.

"me too." logan warns. " 'ya gonna let me fill you up, sweetheart? bet you wanna be full of me, to carry my seed? isn't that right?"

he knows you're too far gone, babbling incoherent sentences and soft pleas. the tiny, "mhm" and head nod give him the okay to cum inside you.

"s-shit!" he curses. "you're so tight, practically suffocating me, baby."

his orgasm triggers another for you, milking him until both of you are struggling for air. the room felt like the inside of a sauna and reeks of sex.

"got another one in you, pretty girl?" logan asks, slowly pulling out of you.

"y-yeah." you answer, letting him move you how he wanted.

logan slips your nightgown off of you and lays you down on your back again. this time fully taking in your form. every curve, dimple and scar. he makes sure to pay your breasts some attention, taking one in his mouth and massages the other, pinching and rolling your nipple until your whining. desperately you attempt to rub your pussy against his abs, gaining very little friction from it.

if he wasn't in this rut, he would've taken more time to appreciate this. next time he will.

you open up for him again and he slips in with ease. logan brings your thighs to your chest, folding you in half.

"harder, please." you beg, staring up at him with those wide eyes that he's a sucker for.

"i don't want to hurt you, baby." he grunts, trying to restrain himself.

"i can take it, lo." you tell him, stroking his cheek with your much smaller thumb. "i know you need it right now."

instead of answering with words, logan bends down and kisses you in a more tender way than before. as soon as he picks up his thrusts, you tug softly at his locks, making his hips stir and lose rhythm for a second.

"you like it rough, don't 'ya, princess?" he grunts in your neck while his thumb moves to rub circles on your clit. "fuck, my cum is just spilling out of you."

a tear rolls down your cheek, only further encouraging logan. licking up the salty tear before it falls off your skin. never in your life have you felt so dirty.

"please, need to feel you logan." you whimper and he knows exactly what you mean.

"don't worry, baby. i'm close." he says, feeling you flutter around him.

logan's gaze stays locked on where the two of you are connected, watching him slide in and out of you. almost drooling at the image of his cock in your stomach.

within minutes, you're soaking his cock like you did his fingers. slick landing all over logan's sculpted torso. your fingers gather some before bringing them to his lips, letting him lick them clean.

a loud animalistic growl signals his release, painting your walls again for the second time tonight.

both of you lay stuck together. neither ready to let go of each other just yet. on the floor, you notice something light blue peaking out of the back pocket of his discarded jeans.

"so that's where my panties went?" you giggle, capturing logan's attention.

"yeah..." his voice raspy and deeper than usual. "sorry 'bout that, sweetheart."

"it's okay." you reply. "but next time that you get these 'cravings', come to me and i'll help y–"

logan cuts you off on with the rock of his hips and the wet slosh of your ruined cunt. before you can even moan, he's grabbed your white panties next to you and shoves them in your mouth.

fuck, he should've come to you sooner.

– tags: @hazydespair @itsmemuffy @wolvndmouth @nightingale-slayer @melday0105 @collector-of-furby-furs @solistarrs @atomicmystery @milfsarefineashell @ohfourgotten @keerygal @shewolverinesworld @tezooks @spookysquids @llorentezete @actuallybridgetjones @planetxella @silversprings-mp3 @coocoocachewgotscrewed @lethallyprotected @laweona150 @sturnsvoid @emoevanafton @slowlikehoneyyy @ginnylupin @omnivirgo @shiv-r @buckyssugarchick @ayamenimthiriel @balariie @ssloveslogan @stabbedfawn @dxddyspup @leggomiegg0

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usagii-bun · 1 month ago

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𝐄𝐗𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑. jing yuan x fem foxian! reader (nsfw).

In which Jing Yuan, a man renowned for his unwavering control and discipline, finds that resolve unraveling in your presence — your every move, every glance, every touch igniting a fire within him he can no longer contain discovering an intoxicating solace in the sensual art of your dance, each sway of your hips pulling him deeper into an obsession he cannot, and will not, resist.

word count : 12k (12k words of edging)

warnings: explicit sexual content includes detailed descriptions of sexual acts (fingering, oral—f receiving, dry humping, thigh riding, implied future penetration), obssesed jing yuan, possessive jing yuan, slight power imbalance implied, erotic dancing/ adult entertainment , sensory overload, marking.

minors are NOT to read this story. If you are uncomfortable with detailed sexual content or themes of dominance and obsession, this is not the story for you. please proceed responsibly and at your own discretion.

DO NOT REUPLOUD OR CLAIM my work as yours. i have taken a lot of time to write this and it would be very disheartening to see someone claim something i took so long to write and craft.

anways, please do enjoy and leave a comment :3 reblogs, likes and follows are high appreciated

— usagii-bun <3

The moon hung high, casting a silvery glow over the quiet, cobblestone streets of Aurum Alley. It was a place where the night whispered its secrets, and the air, thick with the heavy scent of incense and mystery, carried tales only the privileged knew. Tucked away behind a discreet set of bamboo doors was the establishment—a brothel veiled in silence but brimming with the hum of indulgence. Even a general like Jing Yuan, weighed down by the armour of responsibility, found solace in the allure of its hidden embrace.

His feet moved almost of their own accord as he made his way to the entrance. Tired eyes, burdened by countless battles and endless politics, sought release in the only way he knew how—a brief escape from the turmoil of his mind. The soft click of his boots echoed, barely audible against the gentle wind that danced through the alley. And there, the door opened, not by his hand, but by a woman’s, poised and serene.

The Foxian lady who greeted him stood in the doorway like an ethereal figure, her beauty transcending time. Her skin was porcelain, her long, raven-black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall, framed by the glow of lanterns. Dressed in silk, her robes shimmered in shades of crimson and gold, the fabric clinging to her form in ways both graceful and alluring. She held herself with an air of elegance, her fox ears twitching lightly with every movement, her tail curling behind her in soft, languid strokes. She was an embodiment of allure, wrapped in silk and mysteries, every inch a vision of untold desires.

"Welcome, General Jing Yuan," she said, her voice smooth as velvet, respectful yet laden with something deeper, something more intoxicating. "Please, allow me to show you the wonders within."

With a graceful gesture, she led him inside, and Jing Yuan, caught in the captivating pull of her presence, followed. The atmosphere shifted the moment he stepped over the threshold. The entrance was bathed in the soft glow of lotus lanterns, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The scent of incense—jasmine, sandalwood, and something sweeter—hung thick in the air, enveloping his senses like a warm blanket, clouding his thoughts and easing the tightness in his chest. The walls were adorned with delicate scrolls, ancient calligraphy curling like the wind in a lover’s embrace, telling tales of forgotten empires and lost passion. Red and gold adorned every corner, the hues rich like blood and treasure, a royal reminder of the power that pulsed through these hidden chambers.

The floors beneath him were smooth stone, cool and polished, reflecting the shimmering silk curtains that hung like veils, concealing whatever lay beyond. The gentle swish of the fabric was like a soft caress, a whisper of something forbidden. There were flowers everywhere—tiger lilies, peonies, and chrysanthemums—arranged in intricate vases, their fragrant petals drifting lazily in the air, mixing with the incense to create a heady perfume that seemed to linger in his very breath.

As they moved deeper into the establishment, the general’s eyes took in the sight around him. Men and women, dressed in delicate silk robes of every colour imaginable, wandered freely, mingling with one another. The silk shimmered in the candlelight, revealing glimpses of soft skin and delicate features. Women draped themselves over men, while men held women in their arms with equal parts reverence and longing. The air was thick with the hum of quiet conversation, with laughter and sighs mingling in a sweet symphony that seemed to be playing just for those fortunate enough to be here.

"Come," the Foxian lady said softly, leading him up a staircase adorned with red and gold lanterns. "If you wish, you may enjoy performance privately upstairs."

Her eyes, sparkling like the night stars, hinted at something playful, something dangerous. Jing Yuan, ever the composed general, only nodded, his lips curling slightly at the invitation.

The night stretched out before you, the rhythmic beat of the music setting the pace for the dance that would soon unfold. Your heartbeat in time with the soft melody, the flickering candlelight reflecting off your skin as you prepared to enter the stage. The room below you were full of people—men, women, all draped in delicate silks, moving among each other in whispered conversations and soft laughter. The atmosphere was intoxicating, thick with the scent of incense and roses, the air so rich with desire it nearly hummed.

Tonight, you were not just a dancer; you were a vision, a creature of silk and allure, meant to captivate every gaze that fell upon you. You had practiced this for hours, days, months—the art of seduction through movement. As you slowly ascended onto the stage, the soft rustle of your costume, the shimmer of the golden jewellery adorning your body, set the tone for the entrancing spectacle to come. Your tail swayed behind you, brushing against the floor like a soft whisper, your ears twitching with the anticipation of the performance to come.

The room quieted, the hushed murmurs dying down as you took your first step into the spotlight. The soft glow of lotus lanterns, their flames flickering in the dim room, bathed you in an amber hue. Your body moved, fluid and graceful, as if the music itself was a part of you, guiding your every step. You could feel the eyes of the room on you—every gaze fixated; each breath held in anticipation of your every move.

From the elevated room above, General Jing Yuan watched. The scene below him was nothing new—he had seen these kinds of performances before—but this time, something was different. As you danced, his attention was drawn to you, like a moth to a flame. There was something in your movement that was unlike the others. The grace with which you moved, the way your body seemed to flow effortlessly with the music, drew him in. It wasn’t just your physical beauty, though you were undeniably stunning—every curve, every movement was perfection—but something deeper, something intangible. It was the essence you exuded—the confidence, the strength, the raw magnetism that seemed to pull him closer despite the distance between you.

Your movements were slow, deliberate. Your arms flowed through the air, a soft trace of elegance, while your hips swayed in time with the rhythm of the instruments, your skin glowing in the soft light. Each step you took was an invitation, each flick of your wrist a silent promise, each roll of your hips a beckoning. It was erotic without being crude, sensual without losing its grace. You were a goddess in motion, a creature born to captivate and beguile.

As you moved, your eyes flicked upwards, meeting his gaze for just a moment. It was a brief connection—one that he felt more than he could explain. His breath caught in his throat as your gaze locked with his, your eyes filled with an emotion that seemed to pull him in, deeper than he ever expected to go. The flicker of awareness between you made his chest tighten, and his pulse quickened. It was like you knew exactly what effect you were having on him, like you could feel his gaze following every step, every motion.

Your body twisted and arched as you danced, the silk of your costume brushing over your skin like a soft caress. The jewellery you wore—delicate chains, pearls, and golden rings—clinked softly with every movement, drawing attention to the curves of your body. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood, intoxicating and heavy, as your tail swished behind you, swaying in perfect rhythm with your every move.

Jing Yuan, sitting in his private alcove, could barely tear his eyes away from you. He felt an inexplicable pull, a hunger that wasn’t just for your physical form, but for the energy you radiated. It was raw and untamed, a force he couldn’t quite explain, yet he felt it in every fibre of his being. His hands clenched at his sides as the tension built in his chest, a wave of heat spreading through him. His body reacted against his will, betraying him as he watched you.

You were no longer just a dancer. You were the embodiment of something else—something deeper, more primal. You were pulling him into a world he hadn’t known he was even willing to enter, and for the first time in a long time, he felt something—something he hadn’t felt in years. The weight of his responsibilities, his title, the endless wars and battles that had marked his life, seemed to fade into the background. They no longer mattered.

The music picked up, becoming more intense, the tempo quickening. Your movements followed suit, each step becoming more deliberate, more daring. The room was alive with the heat of desire, the air crackling with tension. Jing Yuan’s breath caught in his throat, your body undulating in a way that was both art and allure. You were making a show of it—of him—and for the first time in a long time, it was his turn to be caught.

The music slowed, and you took your final step, the dance reaching its end. Your body twisted, swayed, and your movements grew more subtle, teasing. As the final note of the music played, the room fell into a hushed silence. Jing Yuan remained frozen, captivated by your performance. His mind buzzed with a million thoughts, none of them clear, none of them rational. All he knew was that he needed to be closer to you, to taste whatever you were offering.

As the lights dimmed and the room came back to life with murmurs and applause, Jing Yuan finally found his voice. He leaned forward, his gaze never leaving you. “Can I… request her?” His words were barely above a whisper, filled with an urgency that surprised even him.

The Foxian lady, who had been watching with knowing eyes, nodded with a smile. "Of course, General Jing Yuan. She is yours for the evening."

The air inside the private alcove was thick with a sensual tension, the dim light casting soft shadows around the space. Jing Yuan sat back in a velvet-covered chair, his posture commanding yet relaxed. His mind was still reeling from the magnetic performance he'd witnessed, but now, as he sat alone in this private setting, the anticipation built again.

The door slid open, and the woman who had greeted him earlier entered, guiding you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. Jing Yuan could now get a better look of you, the lingerie delicately adorns your body, the jewels that were placed on you still twinkled and shimmered under the dull lighting. Your fox ears were perked, stiff with nerves, and your tail swayed ever so slightly behind you, betraying your inner restlessness.

Your gaze never met his. You kept your head low, your expression unreadable, as if you'd become a different person. This wasn’t the confident, playful woman who’d mesmerized him with her dance. This was someone subdued, cautious, and perhaps even a little fragile. Jing Yuan’s brow furrowed at the sight, and a pang of something unfamiliar stirred within him. There was an undeniable sadness at the change, a realization that you were a contradiction, both in the freedom you’d shown during your dance and the restraint you now carried.

The woman who led you whispered softly to you as she passed by, "Take care of the general." Her voice was gentle but firm, as if entrusting something delicate to your care. She gave Jing Yuan a final look, a knowing smile before exiting the room, leaving the two of you in silence.

You stood in front of him, head lowered, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. The air felt heavier now, the sense of being watched almost suffocating, yet you remained still, as though obeying some invisible rule.

Jing Yuan studied you for a moment, trying to piece together the shift in your demeanour. His mind, clouded with the memory of your dance, struggled to reconcile the two versions of you. His large, calloused fingers lifted from his side, brushing gently beneath your chin, his touch soft but insistent as he lifted your face to meet his.

"Why do you not make eye contact?" he asked, his voice low, his words smooth as they hung in the air. His gaze was intense, capturing you as he locked his eyes on yours. You could feel the weight of his stare, the depth of it, and it sent a flicker of something through you—surprise, confusion, maybe even fear.

You blinked rapidly, trying to avoid his gaze, but his touch lingered, a slight pressure against your chin. You quickly averted your eyes, your cheeks flushing at the intensity of his attention.

"It is not allowed," you murmured softly, the words barely escaping your lips. "I am not allowed to look at the customer unless... unless told to."

Jing Yuan’s expression softened, but his curiosity remained, his gaze never leaving you as you stood before him, silent and restrained. His fingers remained on your chin, though no longer pressing, just gently resting there. He tilted his head slightly, considering your words. He couldn't help but be intrigued by the contradiction you presented: the woman who captivated an entire room with her dance now so reserved, so obedient.

"You are allowed to look at me," he said, his voice almost playful, though the undertone of command was still present. "But for now, I will permit your discretion."

There was a quiet pause between you both, as you silently struggled with the unspoken tension that now swirled in the room. Jing Yuan leaned back, his large frame sinking into the chair as he relaxed, his eyes never leaving you. "Come, sit with me," he said, motioning to the empty seat beside him. "Let us share a drink."

His invitation hung in the air like a challenge, but it was delivered with a calm, measured tone. You hesitated for a moment, still unsure of how to act, still feeling the pressure of his gaze as he observed you carefully. Finally, you took a cautious step forward, your body moving with the grace of a fox, and sat at his side, careful not to brush too close against him.

The room was filled with the scent of incense and flowers, but the closeness between the two of you heightened the atmosphere, thickening the air. Jing Yuan poured two glasses of wine, his movements slow, deliberate. He handed one to you, his fingers brushing against yours, and for a brief moment, the touch felt more intimate than it should have.

"You have a beautiful presence," he said quietly, taking a sip of his own drink. "But I can see there is more to you than what you show. Tell me, what is it you desire, in a place like this?"

You remained silent, unsure of how to respond, but Jing Yuan didn’t rush you. His gaze held a quiet intensity, as if waiting for you to let down the walls you’d so carefully constructed around yourself. The tension between you both lingered, a palpable force, as your bodies sat close together yet distanced by invisible barriers. Your heartbeat faster, your breath shallow. This was new territory for both of you. And for Jing Yuan, it felt like the beginning of something far deeper than either of you had expected.

You shifted in your seat, thighs brushing together under the soft silk of your gown, the sensation sending a faint shiver through you. The air between you and Jing Yuan was thick, charged with an intensity you could neither name nor escape. His gaze was locked on you, and every question he asked felt like it was unravelling pieces of you.

"Why here?" he murmured, his voice smooth, like the finest silk. "A place like this—it doesn’t seem to match your spirit."

His words hung in the air, and you found yourself twisting the fabric of your gown again, seeking some kind of anchor. "It’s... complicated," you whispered, your eyes darting away from his. But the way he leaned closer—close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him—made it impossible to hide.

"Complicated," he echoed, his tone laced with curiosity, as though he wanted to peel back every layer of meaning behind your answer.

You glanced up at him, and your breath caught in your throat. His amber eyes glimmered in the dim light, soft but piercing, holding you captive in their gaze. And then, he leaned in further, the space between you shrinking until you could feel his presence, overwhelming and intoxicating.

The scent of him—clean and faintly spiced—mixed with the sweetness of the wine he sipped moments before. The aroma seemed to curl around you, tangling with your thoughts. His lips were so close now, and you couldn’t stop your gaze from flicking down to them.

"May I?" he asked, his voice a hushed murmur, and his eyes searched yours, waiting. It wasn’t a command, as you’d expect from a man like him, but a request, gentle yet brimming with restrained desire.

Your throat tightened, and you nodded slowly, words escaping you.

His hand came up, fingers grazing your cheek before curling under your chin, tilting your face toward his. The touch was warm, firm yet tender, sending sparks skittering along your skin. Slowly, achingly, he closed the distance.

When his lips met yours, the world fell away.

The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brush of lips, testing, coaxing. But then, like a flame catching the wind, it deepened. His mouth moved against yours with a slow-burning passion, drawing you in, leaving no room for hesitation. You felt the firm press of his lips, the intoxicating heat of him, and your heart thundered in your chest.

His hand slid from your chin to cradle your jaw, his thumb stroking the edge of your cheekbone. It was such a careful gesture, but the kiss was anything but. His tongue swept against the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you yielded, parting your lips for him.

When his tongue slid against yours, a low hum of pleasure escaped you, your hands clutching at the silken folds of your gown as if it could keep you grounded. He tasted of wine, rich and heady, and the faintest hint of something sweeter, something entirely him.

His other hand moved to your waist, fingers splaying across the delicate fabric that barely covered you. The pressure was light, a silent promise of what could come, and yet it was enough to make your pulse race, your body alight with sensations you couldn’t control.

You couldn’t help but respond, your hands tentatively brushing against his chest, feeling the solid strength beneath his robes. His lips moved with a practiced confidence, but there was something raw in the way he kissed you, like he was holding back a storm, giving you only a glimpse of the tempest that raged beneath.

When he finally pulled back, his lips hovered just a breath away, his forehead resting lightly against yours. Both of you were breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling in rhythm with his.

"You’re... mesmerizing," he murmured, his voice rough and low, as though the words had been dragged from somewhere deep within him.

You opened your eyes, and his gaze bore into yours, intense and unyielding. His thumb brushed against your swollen lips, and you could see the faint flush dusting his cheeks, a rare crack in his usual composure.

"I’ve wanted to do that," he admitted, his voice softer now, "since the moment I saw you."

Your heart raced, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, the weight of his confession crashing over you like a wave. His touch lingered, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns against your skin, and you knew—this was only the beginning.

Jing Yuan’s hands were impossibly large, their warmth seeping through the sheer silk draped over your body as they slid down, slow and deliberate. His touch felt like a whispered promise, each fingertip tracing a path that left fire in its wake. You couldn’t help but shiver when his palms grazed the curve of your hips, his fingers splaying possessively over them as he was now on his knees between your thighs.

The silk clung to your skin like dew, yielding under his touch as his hands lingered, pressing into the plush softness of your thighs. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, as though he wanted to savour every second, every inch of you that he claimed. His thumb stroked a languid circle against your skin, teasing the sensitive flesh just below the curve of your hip, and your breath hitched.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his voice a deep, velvety whisper that seemed to echo in the dim, scented air. His words held a teasing lilt, but his eyes were dark, heavy-lidded with something far deeper than amusement.

The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of silk and the faint crackle of a distant candle. His hands moved lower, trailing down the sides of your thighs as if he were sculpting you from memory. He paused, his fingers flexing slightly, almost reverently, before sprawling over the fullness of your legs. The pressure was firm but not harsh, his touch grounding you even as it left you breathless.

Jing Yuan’s head tilted, his silver hair catching the dim light like threads of moonlight spun through shadow. He leaned closer, his breath ghosting over your skin, and his hands tightened their hold on you ever so slightly. The contrast of his strength and the tenderness in his touch made you feel both vulnerable and cherished, like a treasure he had no intention of letting slip away.

"You’re exquisite," he murmured, his voice soft yet weighted, as though the words carried a gravity only, he could understand. His thumbs traced upward, following the natural curve of your thighs, his hands mapping you with a deliberate slowness that felt like an exploration, a quiet devotion.

When his eyes flicked back to meet yours, his gaze was molten, heavy with desire yet tempered by something gentler, something that made your heart stutter in your chest. His hands stilled, settling like a question, a challenge, as if to ask how far you would let him go. And in that moment, you were weightless, caught in the intoxicating pull of him, the world beyond fading into nothingness.

Jing Yuan's fingers, warm and deliberate, slid down to the edge of your thigh highs, the lace soft under his touch. He let his fingertips dip beneath the delicate material, brushing against the bare skin beneath, sending shivers coursing through your body. The contrast of silk and skin was electrifying, his movements unhurried as though he had all the time in the world to explore.

Your breath hitched, and you gripped the silk of your gown, desperate for something to anchor yourself. The sensation of his hands so close, his strength tempered by the tender way he handled you, made your mind race. The General of the Luofu, a man revered for his authority and composure, was here, knelt before you, his hands on your thighs as though you were the centre of his universe.

His thumb traced lazy circles against your skin, the pressure both teasing and grounding. "You’re trembling again," he murmured, the teasing lilt of his voice sending a new wave of heat through you. His silver hair gleamed faintly in the soft, golden light, the contrast between his composed expression and the intimacy of his touch almost too much to bear.

Then, without warning, he leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your thigh. It was a feather-light kiss, soft yet searing, and it stole the breath from your lungs. The warmth of his mouth lingered, a silent claim that left your heart pounding.

Your mind spiralled, the weight of the moment crashing over you like a tidal wave. This was the General—the General—his broad shoulders and imposing presence now knelt before you in an image that burned itself into your memory. The sight of him, his head bent, his lips on your skin, was something you knew you’d never forget.

Your pulse quickened as his hand slid higher, his palm pressing into the softness of your thigh with a deliberate slowness that made your body hum with awareness. He tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes flicking upward to meet yours, his gaze heavy with something that made your heart stutter.

"You’re beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice low and rich, the words wrapping around you like silk. His fingers flexed against your skin, and you swallowed hard, feeling as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you. The scent of incense, the warmth of the dimly lit room, and the weight of his attention made it impossible to think of anything else.

Your breath hitched as his lips lingered against your skin, so close yet unbearably distant. A soft whimper escaped you, unbidden, the sound trembling on your lips. "General..." The word was barely a whisper, carried more by instinct than thought, but it was enough.

Jing Yuan’s golden eyes gleamed at the sound, a primal intensity overtaking his usual calm. That composed facade he wore so effortlessly cracked, revealing something raw and untamed beneath. His lips curved into a slow, almost predatory smile, and you felt the heat of his gaze burn against your skin.

He leaned closer, his broad shoulders dipping as his face moved towards your clothed pussy, the faintest warmth of his breath ghosting over the flimsy material of it. The sensation was maddening, a tantalising promise that made your thighs tense under his hold.

Your ears twitched uncontrollably, betraying your spiralling emotions. You tried to steady them, but they betrayed you with every sharp intake of breath. Your tail curled and flicked at the edges of the plush cushions beneath you, the movement erratic, mirroring the storm building in your chest.

Jing Yuan noticed everything—of course, he did. His gaze flicked to your twitching ears, and the corner of his mouth quirked, a dark satisfaction dancing in his eyes. His hands remained steady, sprawling over the plush of your thighs, fingers pressing just enough to ground you while still making your skin tingle.

"You’re so responsive," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the air. "It’s captivating."

The warmth of his breath fanned over the delicate fabric again, sending a shiver racing up your spine. He paused, his lips so close yet maddeningly still, his eyes watching every tremble, every twitch, every unsteady exhale. You felt utterly laid bare beneath his gaze, a mixture of vulnerability and desire tangling in a way that left you breathless.

"Tell me,” he said softly, the words a mere whisper against the heat of your skin. "Do you always react this beautifully... or is it just for me?"

Your entire body felt as though it had been set alight, the heat rushing from your cheeks to the very tips of your ears as Jing Yuan's lips hovered ever so teasingly over your cunt. The blush that painted your skin deepened, spreading like wildfire, your hands clutching the silken material beneath you in an effort to steady yourself.

And then, his lips pressed softly against your pussy—through the delicate fabric that barely served as a barrier. The kiss was unhurried yet deliberate, and the sensation made you gasp, your heart leaping into your throat. Your thighs quivered slightly beneath his strong, steady grip as your body betrayed the flood of emotions overtaking you.

Jing Yuan closed his eyes, the scent of you filling his senses as though nothing else in the world existed. Sweet and heady, with a potency that made his mind spiral, it was unlike anything he had imagined—and oh, had he imagined. His fingers curled slightly against your skin as if grounding himself from the overwhelming allure.

The sweetness of it mingled with something darker, more intoxicating, and utterly unique to you. It was pungent but not overpowering—an earthy, sensual fragrance that clung to the air around you and pulled him deeper into the haze you created.

His breaths grew heavier, his mind clouding as the scent wrapped around him like an invisible tether, binding him to you in a way that felt both maddening and necessary.

"Addictive," he murmured, his voice low and rough, the single word almost swallowed by the quiet intimacy of the room. His lips brushed against you once more, this time lingering a second longer, his tongue darting out briefly to taste the fabric.

A groan rumbled deep in his chest, and his grip on your thighs tightened ever so slightly, his composure slipping as he inhaled deeply again, utterly consumed by the fragrance of you. His golden eyes, now darkened with something primal and insatiable, flickered up to meet yours—a blush still staining your cheeks, your wide-eyed gaze unsure and yet filled with undeniable need.

Jing Yuan's tongue pressed firmly yet gently against the thin fabric, a deliberate movement that sent shockwaves coursing through your body. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt, the warmth and softness of his mouth combining with the teasing pressure to ignite every nerve in your skin. Your toes curled instinctively, the sheer intensity of the moment leaving you breathless, as though the air itself had thickened.

His large hands, splayed across your trembling thighs, gripped you tighter, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh in a way that left you aching for more. The contrast of his strength against your vulnerability only heightened the whirlwind of sensations overtaking you. He groaned softly, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to vibrate through you, as if he too was succumbing to the weight of his desires.

Jing Yuan’s gaze lifted, drinking in every detail of you. The flush that coloured your cheeks, spreading down your neck and disappearing beneath the thin fabric of your gown. The way strands of your hair had fallen loose, framing your face like a delicate painting. The rise and fall of your chest as your breath quickened, each exhale shaky and unsteady.

He felt an unrelenting need to unravel you, to witness you laid bare, in every sense of the word. His hands moved slightly, his thumbs brushing slow circles against your skin, grounding you and driving you to the edge all at once.

His tongue pressed against the fabric again, this time with more insistence, and his lips followed with a lingering kiss. The heat of his breath seeped through, and it felt as though he was marking you with each touch, his presence imprinted on your very soul.

“Do you feel it?” he asked softly, his golden eyes locking onto yours as his hands squeezed your thighs again. “The way I want to devour you—piece by piece—until there’s nothing left of this composure we’re pretending to hold on to?”

Jing Yuan's grip on your thigh loosened as he let his hand slip away, only to settle firmly on your shoulder. The weight of his touch grounded you, but the intensity in his golden gaze sent your mind spiralling into chaos. His other hand moved with a deliberate slowness, two fingers brushing against the fabric that separated him from you, as though he were savouring the act of uncovering you.

He pushed the fabric aside, exposing your glistening skin beneath. The air felt cool against the heat of your pussy, and the juxtaposition made you shiver. Your scent—intoxicating, sweet, and unmistakably you—filled the space between you, strong and pungent in a way that made his breath hitch. His eyes could not leave the sight of your cunt, your clit throbbing, clear liquid oozing from between your glistening folds as he glances at your face, lips swollen and eyes teary – a sight that made his cock leak.

His eyes darkened, a glimmer of something primal flickering in their depths as he took you in. You were fluttering, every part of you trembling in anticipation, and it made his lips curl into a faint, knowing smile.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent, yet laced with raw hunger.

His hand tightened slightly on thigh, grounding you further, while his gaze remained fixed on you as though you were the most captivating sight he had ever encountered. The vulnerability in the moment only seemed to embolden him, and the way his breath fanned against your exposed skin made your thighs tremble under his hold.

Jing Yuan's tongue pressed against your clit, lapping up the sweetness that spilled from you with a deliberate, unrelenting pace. The warmth of his mouth against such a sensitive part of you was overwhelming, sending jolts of pleasure rippling through your body. His eyes, golden and intense, never strayed from your face, watching every twitch of your expression, every blush that spread across your cheeks, and every soft whimper that escaped your lips.

A low hum of approval resonated from him, vibrating against your core as he worked, his large hands gripping your thighs firmly to hold you in place. Each stroke of his tongue was purposeful, slow at first, then more insistent, as though he were a man on the brink of starvation, and you were the feast he'd been denied for far too long.

Your fingers clawed at the leather couch beneath you, the cool material a stark contrast to the heat building inside you. Your hips bucked slightly against his face, but his strong grip kept you steady, his mouth never faltering.

"General..." you whimpered softly, the word barely audibles through the haze of sensation.

At that, his eyes gleamed with a feral satisfaction, something primal and wild flickering within them. He groaned softly, the sound muffled as he devoured you, his tongue exploring every inch with unyielding hunger. The sight of him—so composed, so regal—reduced to this raw, unrestrained desire sent your mind spinning, leaving you trembling under his touch.

Jing Yuan's tongue dragged deliberately against your slick folds, his pace torturous yet intoxicating. Without a word, two of his thick fingers slid down, pressing against your entrance before sinking into you without warning. The stretch was immediate, a mix of pleasure and intensity that tore a loud whimper from your lips. Your body arched into his touch, thighs trembling uncontrollably as your breath hitched.

"General... General..." The title fell from your lips in a broken chant, each syllable a prayer as your mind spiralled. Nothing else existed beyond the overwhelming sensations he wrought upon your body—his tongue flicking expertly up and down your slick heat, his lips closing around the sensitive bud that made your vision blur.

His fingers curled inside you, finding that spot that made your entire body jolt. He pressed into it mercilessly, dragging a sob from your throat as your thighs quaked against his face. His other hand gripped your thigh tightly, holding you still as he worked with relentless precision.

The wet, obscene sounds of his tongue and fingers filled the air, mingling with your soft cries and whimpers. Your world narrowed to the molten heat pooling low in your belly, each flick of his tongue and curl of his fingers sending you closer to the edge.

He sucked on the swollen bundle of nerves, his tongue circling with maddening skill. You sobbed his name again, your thighs trembling, your body barely able to keep up with the intensity of his actions. Through the haze, you felt the curve of his lips against you—a smirk, as though he took pride in unravelling you completely.

Your vision blurred, tears threatening to spill as a tight knot in your stomach coiled and twisted unbearably. Each thrust of Jing Yuan's fingers pressed against that devastating spot inside you, sending shockwaves through your trembling frame. Your eyes rolled back, a broken cry escaping your lips as the tension snapped, pleasure washing over you like a tidal wave.

Your entire body quivered, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as the release tore through you, leaving you gasping and breathless. But Jing Yuan didn't stop. His fingers maintained their relentless rhythm, coaxing you through the aftershocks, prolonging every moment of your bliss.

You felt his warm tongue, soft yet firm, trailing along your folds as he licked up every drop of your release. His eyes, golden and piercing, never left your face. He seemed captivated by the way your lips parted, the flush painting your cheeks, the glazed look in your eyes.

"You're beautiful," he murmured softly, his voice thick with reverence and desire, the words vibrating against your sensitive skin as he placed a soft kiss against your fluttering clit. His gaze was heavy with pride and satisfaction, as though committing the sight of you undone to memory. He slowly moves up your body, Jing Yuan’s lips traced a delicate path up your neck, each soft kiss like a whispered secret against your skin. The air between you thickened with warmth, every subtle movement drawing you deeper into the moment. He paused just below your ear, his breath mingling with yours, before he reached out for the bottle of alcohol and took a slow, deliberate swig of the sweet alcohol. He placed the bottle down and he finally met your gaze, something unspoken passed between you.

With a gentle but firm pull, he lifted you, as if in a trance, and brought your lips to his. The kiss was tender at first, like a soft brush of silk, but then it deepened, becoming something slower, more languid. The sweet taste of the alcohol seeped into your mouth, dribbling out of the corner of your lip as you moaned when his tongue brushed against yours, the alcohol, sweet and intoxicating with the taste of your essences mingled between your tongues, each shared taste adding to the heat building between you. He tasted you and you tasted him, the kiss a slow, sensual exchange, each second stretching out as if the world outside ceased to exist.

You could feel the warmth of the alcohol in your veins, but it was nothing compared to the warmth that spread through your chest as his hands held you close, pulling you deeper into him. The kiss deepened, became more desperate, yet still slow—each movement deliberate, a beautiful rhythm of lips and tongue, a dance that belonged only to the two of you. Time seemed to stretch, the room fading away as you lost yourself in the sweetness of the moment, the alcohol, and the slow burn of his kiss.

Jing Yuan’s lips lingered against yours for a moment longer, his breath warm on your skin, before he slowly pulled away. His tongue tracing the bit of alcohol that dribbled out of your mouth, gaze intense and molten. The world seemed to pause for a heartbeat, leaving you suspended in the air between his touch and his gaze. Your heart pounded in your chest as you waited, uncertain of what he might do next, but instead of drawing you back into his embrace, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, the gentle gesture so tender it made your breath catch in your throat.

He pulled away just enough to meet your eyes, and in that moment, there was a strange, knowing calm about him. “Thank you for the... meal,” he said, his voice low, smooth, and unhurried, as though savouring the taste of the drink, you and the moment.

His words hung in the air, unexpected and enigmatic. The meal? You blinked, a flush creeping up your neck, your heart fluttering in confusion. Was that truly all he wanted from you? Was it just a fleeting moment, a passing indulgence?

Your gaze dropped to his chest, your eyes tracing the contours of his form—strong, unwavering. His shirt clung to him in a way that made you acutely aware of the man standing before you. And then, your gaze caught something—he was...

Your breath caught, and your eyes snapped back up to his, meeting his with a quiet intensity that made your pulse quicken. But he only smiled softly, almost like he understood the storm brewing within you, before gently reaching up to pat your head, a small, affectionate gesture that sent a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against your hair, making your fox ears twitch involuntarily. The touch was so casual, yet somehow it deepened the flush that spread across your face, your heart racing at the intimacy of the moment. It was a small, almost teasing action, but it made you feel as though you were suddenly laid bare in front of him.

His smile softened, his eyes warm yet impossibly distant, as though he were saying goodbye without words. “I enjoyed your company,” he said, the weight of his words settling between you like an unspoken promise that felt both comforting and impossible to decipher. “I will be anticipating another dance soon, until than darling.” His voice smooth as honey, your face turning crimson at the word ‘darling’.

His gaze lingered on you for a beat longer, filled with a complexity you couldn't understand, before he turned and left the private area. The soft sound of his footsteps faded, but his presence remained, lingering in the air, as if he had never really left at all.

You stood there, the room suddenly feeling too large, too empty. ‘Did I do something wrong?’ The question echoed in your mind, drowning out the quiet hum of the space. He had seemed so... needy, as though there was something more. And yet, now he was gone, leaving you with nothing but his words and the warmth of his touch.

Why didn’t he want more? You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was left unfinished, the desire you felt mirrored in the air between you. Why had he stopped? Why hadn't he sought what you had both seemed to crave? It was as if your body had been aching for something deeper, and yet he had held back.

As the silence grew heavier, your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. The owner stepped inside; her voice sweet like honey but with an edge that sent a chill down your spine.

“You’re done for the night,” she said, her smile thin but knowing. “You can go home now.” Confusion clouded your thoughts. “But... I thought you only let me go after twelve?”

The owner’s smile grew, as though your question amused her. “I won’t be needing you until I call for you,” she replied, her tone light but filled with something more. A finality? You weren’t sure. The words left you unsettled, uncertain of what she truly meant.

She reached into her pocket and handed you something—a silky pouch. The weight of it felt strange in your hand. “Here’s your pay from the General,” she said, her voice dripping with a sort of satisfaction that you couldn't place. “You sure did make him happy.”

Your mind whirled. Made him happy? The words bounced in your skull, unanswered questions stirring within you like a storm. What had just happened? What had you been to him? The idea of him leaving with only that—just that—felt like a question mark lingering in the air. He had seemed so close, so wanting, and yet he left.

The thought of the lingering kiss, the sweet warmth of the alcohol shared between you both, made your chest ache. He had left with a soft smile, but you couldn't shake the sense of something unfinished, something unspoken. Had you misread the moment? As you looked down at the silky pouch, the weight of it felt more symbolic than ever. The pay was there, yes, but the ache, the unanswered longing in your chest—it was something deeper, something that the money couldn't soothe.

The owner’s grin widened as she stepped back, her eyes gleaming with that same knowing look. You were left with the pouch, your heart full of questions, but no answers.

Jing Yuan hadn’t been himself lately, and he knew it. No matter how many duties he fulfilled or how much paperwork he completed or the many sneaky naps he took, his thoughts consistently drifted back to you. He couldn’t erase the memory of your skin beneath his hands—soft and warm, the kind of touch that lingered even after parting. Nor could he forget the taste of you, intoxicating and sweet, or the way your body moved with such elegance and allure during your dances.

It had been nearly a month since Jing Yuan began seeking you out, yet with each encounter, his fascination deepened into an obsession. He couldn’t get enough of you—the way you moved, the sound of your voice, the way your presence filled the room and consumed his thoughts. After every performance, he would reward you in ways that left you trembling, his mouth devoutly working between your thighs, tongue lapping at every drop of your arousal as his fingers thrust deeply into your slick heat. Yet, he never allowed you to touch him, never let you return the favour. His pleasure came solely from your moans, the way your body responded to his touch, and the sight of your unravelling beneath him. He would grind against his own restraint, rutting against his pants, hard and aching, but never crossing the line. He wanted to wait for the perfect moment, the right time to claim you fully—a moment that would be as unforgettable as you were to him.

It wasn’t just your beauty that consumed him, though it had ensnared him first. It was the quiet calmness you exuded, a soft-spoken grace that contrasted so deeply with the fire of your movements. The way your tail swayed behind you, how your ears twitched in subtle reaction to the world around you—it was as if you were always caught between serenity and mischief. The thought of you was a constant hum in his mind, an ache he could not shake.

He found himself wandering the streets of the city more often now – much to Fu xuan dismissal, hoping to find distractions from you. Yet even his usual escapes held no relief. And today was no exception.

As he strolled through Aurum Alley, the faint clinking of porcelain caught his ear, drawing his attention to a small tea shop tucked into the corner. He stepped inside, the familiar scents of herbs and dried flowers wafting over him, soothing but unremarkable—until his eyes fell on you.

You were standing near the back, your head tilted slightly as you admired the display of teacups arranged on a low wooden shelf. The dim lantern light cast a golden glow over you, highlighting the soft fur of your ears and the elegant sweep of your tail swaying absently behind you. You were dressed in a delicate white dress, its

fabric light and airy, brushing against your knees with every movement. The dress was adorned with tiny floral embroidery, dainty and unassuming, much like the way you carried yourself.

Jing Yuan’s breath hitched. He hadn’t expected to see you here, not outside the confines of your world of silk and candlelight. Here, you looked softer, more natural, yet no less captivating. It was a sight that made his chest tighten, as if the universe had conspired to remind him that you were always just out of reach.

You seemed unaware of his presence, your attention wholly captured by a teacup you held delicately in your hands. It was a beautiful piece, adorned with intricate floral designs, vines curling around painted blossoms, the base glimmering faintly with gold. You turned it slowly in your fingers, your tail swishing with a faint, almost wistful rhythm.

The sight of you, so enraptured by something so simple, made his heart clench. And when you set the cup back down with a small, defeated sigh, it took all of his willpower not to close the distance between you immediately.

Instead, he lingered, watching as you hesitated, your fingers brushing against the rim of the cup one last time before you turned away. Jing Yuan didn’t need to guess why you’d left it behind—the soft downturn of your lips told him everything.

He stepped forward then, his presence a shadow that fell over you before his voice, low and smooth, broke the silence.

“Admiring something, are we?”

You startled, your ears twitching at the sound. Turning to face him, your eyes widened briefly before you quickly averted your gaze. “Oh, General,” you murmured, your hands clasping nervously in front of you. “I didn’t see you there.”

He allowed himself a small smile, though his golden eyes remained fixed on you. “It’s a charming shop, isn’t it? Something here seems to have caught your attention.”

You hesitated, glancing toward the shelf where the teacup sat. “It’s nothing,” you said softly, your voice tinged with embarrassment. “Just a pretty cup. I was… just admiring it.”

“Just admiring it?” Jing Yuan repeated, stepping closer, the faint scent of his cologne filling the space between you. “And yet, you look as though you’ve left a piece of your heart behind with it.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you shook your head. “It’s beautiful, but it’s not something I can…” You trailed off, gesturing vaguely, unwilling to say the words aloud.

Jing Yuan’s eyes flickered with something unreadable—part amusement, part something darker. “A beauty such as that shouldn’t be left behind,” he said, his voice dropping lower, softer, as though he were speaking to himself as much as to you. “Nor should one such as you.”

Before you could respond, he moved, his hand reaching out to lift the teacup from the shelf. With a smooth motion, he turned toward the shopkeeper, the transaction over before you could protest.

“General—”

“Consider it a gift,” he interrupted, his tone firm but kind as he handed the cup to you. His fingers brushed yours as you took it, the brief contact sending a jolt through you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, clutching the cup to your chest. Your tail swished nervously behind you; your ears flattened slightly as you avoided his gaze.

Jing Yuan watched you with a quiet intensity, his smile never faltering. Yet, beneath his calm exterior, his mind raced. Seeing you here, holding something he’d given you, made something primal stir within him. You were no longer just a fleeting obsession, no longer a memory confined to dimly lit nights. You were here, real and tangible, and he wasn’t sure he could ever let you go.

Jing Yuan couldn’t help himself. The moment you stepped outside the tea shop, clutching the intricately designed cup he had bought for you, he was already glancing back at the shelves. He ended up purchasing an assortment of things—fine tea leaves, a brewing set that complemented your cup, and even a small silk pouch embroidered with a motif. It wasn’t about the items themselves; it was the thought of you using them, of you remembering this moment, that drove his actions.

He exited the shop with a bag in hand, catching up to you with ease. The sun cast a warm glow on the cobblestone streets, and your figure seemed to glow in the light. Your white dress fluttered softly with each step, and your tail swayed gently behind you, a detail he couldn’t help but admire.

“You didn’t have to get more,” you said softly, glancing at the bag he carried.

He chuckled, his deep voice warm. “It’s no trouble at all. Tea is best enjoyed with care, wouldn’t you agree? Besides, you deserve nothing but the finest.”

Your cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink, and you glanced away, your ears twitching. “Thank you… General.”

“Jing Yuan,” he corrected smoothly, his golden eyes gleaming. “When it’s just us, there’s no need for formalities.”

You hesitated but nodded. “Thank you, Jing Yuan.”

As you walked together, he took the opportunity to get to know you better. It started with small questions—your favourite teas, if you frequented the shop often—but soon, the conversation deepened. He found out that you were passionate about dance, your eyes lighting up as you spoke about it, despite the soft-spoken nature of your words.

“It’s always been something I loved,” you admitted, your fingers brushing the edge of the teacup you still held. “But… the work I do now, it’s not exactly what I envisioned.”

“Oh?” he prompted, his gaze sharp but gentle, encouraging you to continue.

You hesitated, glancing at him briefly before looking back at the path ahead. “The dancing I do now… it’s to pay off my father’s debts. It’s… different from the dancing I dreamed of as a child.”

Jing Yuan’s jaw tightened, though his expression remained calm. The thought of you, someone so poised and graceful, burdened by another’s mistakes, ignited a protective streak within him. He didn’t press further, sensing you weren’t ready to elaborate, but the knowledge lingered in his mind like a seed waiting to take root.

When the time came for you to part ways, you stopped at a small intersection, turning to face him. Your hands clutched the teacup tightly, your expression shy but sincere. “Thank you again, Jing Yuan. For everything.”

His smile softened, and for a moment, his golden gaze held yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “I’ll see you later,” he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. You blinked, your cheeks heating up as you realised what he meant. You gave him a small, flustered nod before quickly excusing yourself, your tail swishing nervously as you hurried away.

Jing Yuan watched you go, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. He would see you later, of course, but not just as part of a crowd. No, when you danced tonight, it would be for him, and he would make sure you knew it.

The brothel exuded an even more sinful opulence. Red and gold fabrics draped like cascading rivers of silk from the high, arching ceilings. The air was thick with the intoxicating scent of sandalwood incense, mingling with the faint sweetness of lotus blossoms arranged in ornate porcelain vases. The walls were adorned with intricate scrolls of calligraphy, their elegant strokes illuminated by the flickering glow of countless candles. Every corner seemed steeped in temptation, every detail carefully crafted to blur the lines between reality and indulgence.

Jing Yuan sat alone in a private room; a sanctuary veiled by velvet curtains. The plush cushions beneath him did little to ease the tension coiled in his body. A lacquered tray before him held untouched tea and delicate fruit, but his golden gaze never wavered from the stage below. The brothel’s ambiance—a sultry blend of murmurs, soft music, and rustling silks—faded to nothing as you stepped into the spotlight.

Your presence commanded every eye in the room, but his was the only gaze you truly felt. You were a vision of raw, untamed allure. The outfit you wore left little to the imagination, sheer fabrics clinging to your every curve, your skin gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat under the dim, golden light. Crimson painted your lips, a bold invitation, while the smoky shadow around your eyes framed them like a weapon. Your tail swayed with each step, teasing, enticing, an extension of the sensual rhythm that seemed to pulse from your very being.

The music began, slow and sultry, and you moved with a deliberate grace, every step a calculated seduction. Your hips swayed in time with the haunting melody, and the way your hands glided over your body had the audience mesmerized. To him, however, it was something more—a torment, a fire that spread through his veins and pooled low in his stomach.

Jing Yuan’s usually serene expression was gone, replaced by a raw intensity that darkened his golden eyes. He leaned forward, his broad shoulders filling the dimly lit alcove as his focus narrowed solely on you. His fingers tightened on the armrest, his chest rising and falling in steady, heavy breaths. The soft sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, the subtle arch of your back, the sway of your hips—it was more than he could bear, yet he couldn’t look away.

The room disappeared for him; the murmured conversations, the soft laughter, the flickering candles—all of it was drowned out by you. Every slow, sensual turn, every flick of your tail, every teasing brush of your fingers across your skin seemed crafted solely for him.

When your eyes lifted and met his, just for a moment, the tension snapped taut. That fleeting connection sent a visceral thrill through him, a silent challenge in the way you quickly looked away. His lips parted as though to speak, but no words came. The denial—the way you teased and withheld even your gaze—was maddening.

You spun again, your bold crimson lips parting as though whispering secrets to the air, your hands brushing over the curve of your waist. The sheer fabric clinging to your body teased him mercilessly, every contour revealed in the flickering candlelight. His golden gaze roamed over you hungrily, his breaths deep and deliberate as if trying to anchor himself against the storm of desire you had unleashed.

The sweat glistening on your thighs, the way your hair clung to your neck, the confident arch of your body—it was intoxicating. Jing Yuan could feel the heat rising

within him, his control slipping with every second. You were temptation incarnate, and he was utterly, completely ensnared.

Jing Yuan's hand moved to rest against his thigh, but the tension in his body betrayed the calm demeanour he fought to maintain. His fingers flexed, slowly drifting, palm pressing lightly against the growing ache beneath the rich fabric of his robes. The weight of his breath was deliberate, measured, but his chest rose and fell with an intensity that mirrored the fire coursing through him.

His gaze remained locked on you, unwavering, devouring. The way you moved-every sway of your hips, every arch of your back, every tantalizing flick of your tail-was an exquisite torment.

You were more than a dancer; you were an artist, painting desire across the room with your body as the brush and the music as your canvas. The strain in his muscles was palpable, his golden eyes darkening with an unspoken hunger. Yet even amidst his rising heat, there was admiration- appreciation for the elegance and mastery of your movements. The way your body told a story, the way your presence commanded the room, it was more than alluring; it was transcendent.

But the intensity of his desire could not be denied. The hardness beneath his robes grew, a throbbing reminder of the effect you had on him. His jaw tightened as his fingers pressed harder, a fleeting attempt at control. Every step you took, every glance you spared his way, only served to unravel the restraint he so desperately clung to. Jing Yuan's breath hitched, his usually steady composure unravelling. The beauty of your art left him enraptured, the sensuality of your dance leaving his mind clouded, his body heavy with need. You were a siren, and he was helpless against your call, a prisoner to the exquisite torment you inflicted upon him.

As your performance came to its crescendo, the room seemed to hold its breath. The music faded into the background, muffled by the pulse pounding in Jing Yuan’s ears. His hand twitched against his thigh, his entire body taut with unrestrained tension as you stepped down from the platform. Each movement you made was deliberate, a purposeful seduction that left his chest heaving, his golden eyes drinking in every detail of you.

And finally, you were upstairs in the room with him.

The space between you closed, and Jing Yuan felt his pulse quicken, a rare break in his usual calm demeanour. His fingers clenched briefly before releasing, as if bracing himself for the storm that was you. You stopped just shy of his seat, your eyes meeting his, bold and teasing, yet softened by something unreadable. The flick of your tail and the slight quirk of your lips only stoked the fire inside him further.

He didn’t wait.

Rising from his seat in one fluid motion, Jing Yuan closed the distance between you in a heartbeat. His large hands found your waist, pulling you to him with a fervour that left no room for hesitation. The moment his lips met yours, it was as though the world fell away. The kiss was urgent, demanding, and possessive. It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was fire and hunger, consuming and overwhelming.

His lips pressed against yours like a man starved, tasting, exploring, memorizing every inch of you. One hand cupped the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair, while the other splayed firmly across your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping across your lower lip before slipping inside to claim more of you.

The taste of you was intoxicating, a heady mix that made his restraint crumble. Every small sound you made—a whimper, a sigh—drove him further into madness. The way your soft hands gripped his robes, clutching at him like he was your anchor, only fuelled his need to devour you whole.

Jing Yuan’s mind raced; his thoughts consumed by you. The way you moved, the way you felt pressed against him, the way you yielded under his touch—it was all too much and yet not enough. His hold tightened, his fingers pressing into your skin, as if trying to etch the memory of this moment into his soul.

He wanted more.

No, he wanted everything.

The desire coursing through him wasn’t just lust—it was something far deeper, more consuming. He wanted to know every part of you, to uncover the layers of your soul as thoroughly as he wanted to explore your body. The thought of you with anyone else sent a possessive heat surging through him, and the idea of keeping you close, of having you as his, was a temptation too powerful to ignore.

He broke the kiss only when breathing became a necessity, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to steady himself. His breaths were ragged, his chest heaving, but his hands never left you, as though afraid you might vanish if he let go.

“You’re driving me mad,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, barely above a whisper. His golden eyes bore into yours, intense and filled with something that bordered on obsession. “Do you know what you do to me? How every moment I spend away from you feels like an eternity?”

You didn’t respond—not with words. Instead, your lips found his again, softer this time but no less heated, as though silently answering his unspoken question.

Jing Yuan’s grip softened, his thumb brushing along your jawline with a tenderness that contrasted the fervent need in his kiss. He pulled back just enough to study your face, his gaze tracing every feature as though committing it to memory.

“You have no idea what you mean to me,” he said, his voice quieter now but still laced with that same raw intensity. “But I’ll show you. One day, I’ll show you.”

The promise lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken, as he held you close, the room around you fading into nothingness. For now, in this moment, you were his entire world.

Jing Yuan's gaze darkened as his hands slipped to the hem of your lingerie top, his breath heavy, his movements deliberate. With a fluid motion, he pushed the delicate fabric up and off, revealing the soft curve of your breasts. His eyes lingered, golden and molten, as though the sight of you alone was enough to undo him completely.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, voice thick with reverence and desire.

Before you could reply, his lips descended, capturing one pert nipple between them, his tongue swirling feverishly. He suckled with an intensity that left no doubt of his hunger, his large hand cupping your other breast, kneading, and teasing. Every soft moan and gasp that escaped your lips only seemed to spur him on, his groans vibrating against your skin as he lavished attention upon you.

His kisses trailed down, wet and open-mouthed, over the curve of your stomach, lingering at your navel before he retraced his path back up. His lips found yours again, searing and demanding, his hands never leaving your body, holding you as if you were a treasure he refused to let go.

Without a word, Jing Yuan sank down into his chair, his strong form commanding even in the act of sitting. His hands gripped your waist, lifting you effortlessly to place you astride his thick thigh.

The moment your clothed pussy settled against him; his sharp inhale betrayed just how much he could feel. The thin fabric separating your body from his was soaked with your arousal, a warm, damp heat that sent a pulse of need through him.

"You’re already so wet for me," he rumbled, his voice a deep, velvety growl. His hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you to grind against his thigh. "Go on. Show me how much you want this."

The friction was delicious, the firmness of his thigh pressing against your most sensitive spot. Your hands clung to his broad shoulders for balance, your body moving instinctively to his rhythm.

Jing Yuan’s eyes never left you, his intense gaze locked on your face, drinking in every expression of pleasure. His lips quirked into a sinful smirk as he watched you lose yourself, your breath hitching, your movements growing more desperate.

"Good girl," he murmured, his words a heady mix of praise and possession. His fingers dug into your hips, guiding you faster, harder, his own breath growing heavier as he watched you unravel. "Let me see everything. Don’t hold back."

You trembled in his lap, your soft, perky nipples pebbled from the cool air and the intensity of his gaze. Jing Yuan’s large hands skimmed down your sides, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His golden eyes flicked lower, settling on the thin scrap of fabric that barely covered your most intimate place.

The sight made his breath hitch—a damp patch spreading across the delicate fabric, clinging to the shape of your pussy lips, leaving absolutely nothing to his imagination. The thin barrier split against the firm muscle of his thigh, framing you in a way that sent his thoughts spiralling.

Jing Yuan's jaw tightened, his head tilting back for a moment as he groaned low and deep. The image of your leaking cunt pulled taut around his thick cock flashed unbidden in his mind, the mere thought causing his grip on your plush hips to tighten.

"Not yet," he muttered under his breath, his voice rough, his restraint hanging by a thread. His arousal throbbed painfully beneath his robes, but he refused to let the tension break—refused to give in until he had you entirely, in the only way he could truly claim you.

His hands flexed against your flesh, fingers sinking into the soft curves as he guided you to move against his thigh again. His golden eyes burned with raw want, but there was something deeper there—something possessive, primal, and utterly consuming.

"You’ll have me, but not like this," he rasped, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his breath warm and heavy. "The only way I’ll give you my seed is when I’m inside you. Completely. Do you understand?"

The words sent a shiver through you, your body trembling even more as his intent settled over you like a tangible weight. You nodded, unable to form words, lost in the way his hands and his voice claimed every part of you.

Tears welled in your eyes as Jing Yuan’s strong hands gripped your hips, roughly guiding you against the firm muscle of his thigh. Each drag of your soaked core over the thick fabric sent shockwaves through your body, your clit throbbing with an ache so overwhelming it made your head spin. You clung to his broad shoulders, gasping for air, your cries a mix of pleasure and desperation.

Jing Yuan’s mouth found the delicate curve of your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before he sucked hard, determined to leave a mark—a vivid bloom that declared you his. The sting only heightened the sensations coursing through you, and your moans spurred him on, his movements growing fiercer, more relentless.

“Good girl,” he murmured against your skin, his deep voice sending a tremor down your spine. His golden eyes, darkened with unrestrained hunger, never left your face, drinking in every reaction, every sound, every shudder of your body.

Your back arched, a broken cry spilling from your lips as the tension in your core snapped. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as your release soaked through the flimsy fabric barely clinging on you. Jing Yuan’s large hand splayed across your lower back, holding you steady, his grip firm yet comforting as he guided you through your climax.

You collapsed against his chest, your body spent and trembling. Your underwear, a soaking mess as Jing Yuan’s arms enveloped you, his large hands moving gently now, one rubbing soothing circles along your back.

“There we go,” he murmured, his voice low and tender, a stark contrast to the possessive fire that had consumed him moments before. “I’ve got you.”

His lips brushed against your temple, the touch grounding you as you nestled into his embrace, your breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

Jing Yuan’s hand glided gently along the soft, velvety fur of your tail; his touch light yet deliberate. A small, breathless whine escaped your parted lips, your cheeks warming as you instinctively nuzzled into the solid warmth of his chest. His scent, calming yet intoxicating, filled your senses, easing the tension in your body while making your heart race.

“M-My tail... it’s sensitive, Jing Yuan,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, shy and muffled against him.

He paused, his golden eyes glinting with curiosity as a faint smirk curved his lips. “I see,” he replied simply, his tone smooth, holding an edge of playfulness. Instead of lingering, his hand shifted to rest on your back, his large palm moving in slow, soothing circles. Though his touch remained comforting, the knowing look in his gaze hinted that he had filed away this discovery for some other time.

All Jing Yuan wanted, with every fibre of his being, was to bury himself deep into the irresistible warmth of your slick, aching pussy, to lose himself entirely in the pleasure you could give him. But he could not—not yet. Not when he knew you deserved more than just raw passion. He wanted to show you his devotion; to prove he was a man worthy of claiming you fully.

His chest rose and fell with effort as he reined in the primal urges clawing at his restraint. The soft tremble of your body against his own pulled him back to the present, grounding him in the tender moment.

Jing Yuan’s large hand moved to thread gently through your hair, his fingers combing through the strands with a soothing rhythm. “You did so well,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. His other hand continued to rub light circles on your back, coaxing you to relax as your breathing slowly evened out.

When he finally pulled back slightly, his golden eyes softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Would you like to go to dinner with me?” he asked, the question tender, yet filled with an underlying intensity that promised this was not a mere casual invitation.

The warmth of his gaze and the sincerity in his voice made your heart flutter. You blinked up at him, dazed and blushing, but managed a shy nod, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, “I’d like that.”

His smile widened, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “Good,” he murmured, already envisioning how he would make the evening one you would never forget.

Author’s Note:

Part 2 ? Dinner turns into a full-on session of raw fucking cause reader got her heat ? :3

reblogs, likes, comments, and follows are highly appreciated <3

also check out my masterlist if u are interested in any of my other works <3

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persicipen-archive · 1 month ago

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𑑛 “PROMISE TO TAKE IT” ﾉ BLADE, DAN HENG, JING YUAN, LUOCHA. HONKAI STAR RAIL

fem reader ﾉ words 2.1k ᯽ rough scenarios, separately. blade — prone bone. doing it raw. creampie ﾉ dan heng is in his dragon form, but not entirely. missionary. implied mating season lol ﾉ jing yuan — size kink. riding him but he’s still in control and a menace ﾉ luocha — “little thing” petname, oddly comforting situationship or one night stand ﾉ rewritten ᯽ ADULT CONTENT ﾉ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ᯽

BLADE ﾉ

While the bedroom itself remains an oasis of solace and a delicate space where you can be yourself, never judged by his ruby eyes despite his low huffs and puffs at any of your antics, it is now also a jail for your sobs. Cries disappearing in the supple cotton of the pillow as Blade pounds into you, rough hands gripping your wrists like a rope. Oh no, he will not allow you to push his hips away.

Not after you begged for this just moments ago with that adorable whine of yours.

The dripping slickness saving you from the punishment that is him rutting into you with abandon. His cock stretches your pussy wide, filling you to the brim with every thrust, and you arch your back against him, letting him impale you over and over again on his heavy girth.

He growls, his fingers digging into your soft sides, leaving reddened imprints, as he pulls you towards him. He slams into you roughly, his balls slapping against your overly sensitive clit as he fucks you without mercy.

You squirm in his grasp, trying to break free, but no, his grip on you is firm. He doesn’t want you to move. You’re here just to take care of his needs.

The man above you breathes out, his long black hair falling over his arms and tickling your shoulders. Using your body as he pleases, relentlessly pushing until only his base can’t settle into your cunt. You whimper, your legs shaking as you feel his tip brush against your deepest spot, and he chuckles. He likes how you clench around him, unsure if you want him to leave you or to welcome him deeper — this is how he knows you’re getting close.

And so, Blade leans forward, his breath burning your neck, and bites on your irritated skin. You cry out, your soppy walls throbbing to lure him into your heat, and he grunts as he hears your juices plapping down his thighs. The way you cream all over his cock — awfully erotic — your wetness coating his length, and he picks up his pace, pounding into you with renewed vigour. He wants to cum inside you. To fill you up.

A high-pitched squeal escapes your lips, your silhouette shivering with uncontrollable intensity. The overwhelming sensation becomes too much to bear, and you find yourself unable to endure it any longer; still played with like a pretty doll, pressed to the mattress with all of his weight. Blade groans, his girth pulsing, and he snugs himself deep into you, cumming in thick, hot spurts, your pussy milking him until the very last drop.

You mewl at his treatment, your wrists aching from his bruising grip, and he smirks, his red eyes gleaming. The way you look right now, his favourite image of contained desires. His dear beloved.

He will make it up to you later with sweet kisses and gentle caresses, but for now, he enjoys the sight of his cum oozing out of your well-fucked cunt, dripping onto the bedsheets.

DAN HENG ﾉ

This position isn’t something new, however, and even though the fact is pleasant to think about, you do wonder what caused him to get so bold. Maybe at the sight of you admiring his partially changed form, eyes drinking in the beautiful shimmer of his scales, he understood that you find him so attractive — as always, but now also intrigued by other parts of him that might be different.

His hand traces the lines of your ribs as you inhale at the feeling of him entering deeper — the unfamiliar shape of his cock nesting comfortably against your soft insides — and then he puts some weight on top of you, pressing you further into the pillows, his lips barely touching your own, unsure if he already wants to kiss you.

��Tell me if it hurts you.”

“It’s alright, really. You can… you know, continue…”

“Now I’m more concerned that you seem to like it more than when we’re doing it… gentler.” Surprised at his own talkativeness, there’s a red splash of colour on his cheeks as he bites his lips at the end of the sentence and buries his face in the crook of your neck. You giggle at his comment, but it turns into a needy moan as he moves his hips to rest snugly between your legs.

With your tongue, you slide across his upper lip, capturing it softly and biting on its tenderness, tasting a faint trace of his salty sweat and humming as he shivers, your fingers tangled in his hair, brushing through the ebony black locks, before whispering, “I know you’re holding back. No need to, I trust you.”

“Mmh,” Dan Heng mutters with a shaky breath as his shaft hardens and thickens at your reactions. Your reassuring words have such an impact on him; they're teasing him with this pleading tone of yours, allowing him to mate with you during the times when he gets so incredibly hot in your presence, unable to keep his hands off of you.

His thrusts start slow and measured; however, with each minute passing, he finds himself succumbing more and more to the instinct calling upon him; it is so much different now that you’re within his reach — how you react, how you look at him — everything makes him lose his cool. Soon his lips find your nipple again, teeth grazing sensitive skin until you hiss, yet push yourself towards him, arching your back. The sting of his bite stimulates you to the point where your inner walls spasm, clamping down on him tightly as you almost cry out.

Even the shallowest strokes produce audible squelching noises whenever he loses his rhythm. He’s just as intoxicated by the new sensation. The little details that change in his build now make you two melt in each other’s arms; his cock glides with fervour and carelessness against the spots that usually required precision.

The pleasure is overwhelming, even a bit eerie how accurate at bringing the sweetest of your sobs out. His instincts still force him to grip at your shoulders — you let him do this — to slam harder inside of your pussy. And you can barely take it, but he quickly looks at the side on the clock, and it’s been barely minutes since he started…

JING YUAN ﾉ

He embraces you tightly, wide arms with ease, groping your entire body as you shudder, and let him bring you closer, your back pressed to his soft yet firm chest — allowing his cock to reach deeper, spearing your entrance until your essence seeps out in abundance between your bodies.

Usually, you would expect Jing Yuan to prefer being face to face with you, but also knowing what a menace he can be, there must’ve been something more on his mind. Which catches you by surprise when you notice his fingers circle your clit from the front, sort of caging you between one pleasure and another as you helplessly try to wriggle out of his iron grip.

At that, what you hear is a chuckle — deep like the ocean, sweet like honey, dripping with both love and lust, and making you all fuzzy from within. The waves of immense enjoyment lap at your limbs from all sides, and you gasp out when his palm rubs you so skillfully, with care and adoration.

“No matter which part of you I touch… It’s a pleasure to watch you shake in my arms.” He purrs with a small smile, nibbling at your earlobe and inhaling the sweet scent of your hair. You wish to nod but can't, in fear that it’ll only spur him further on to bounce you on his cock and enjoy how you struggle with each thrust. “Does my beloved bird feel good?”

Before you can answer — which you would love to, gathering the strength and courage to wail and sob into his lips as your head falls back on his shoulder — his palm moves up from your bundle of nerves to your tummy, pressing on the soft flesh there. Intently. He knows exactly what to do to get a specific reaction out of you, to make himself moan as you clench abruptly on his girth despite your walls sobbing at the stretch. You feel so full in that moment, choking on your breath at the additional pressure, too occupied with his cock filling your body so wholly.

As he starts to fuck you relentlessly — you cry out, the pitch of your voice higher and higher as you slowly become incapable of maintaining any volume at all — the tiniest sounds, broken huffs of air leaving your mouth; your eyes are glassy with tears, and all you want to do is bury yourself in the pillows and blankets, somehow escape from this prison of bliss. But he holds you close, one hand fondling your breast and the other playing around your lower abdomen, always there where you don’t want him at the moment, just to tease and make you more and more desperate.

A little flick of his thumb against your pearl, a press on your belly, maybe even fingers parting your folds as he drags his fat tip in and out at the perfect angle. It’s enough to throw you over the edge again.

As if your body belonged to him — and he, being the ever caring lover, already knows everything about you, that you enjoy it too much when he manhandles you like this.

LUOCHA ﾉ

The immense pleasure causes your mouth to whine and moan out his name. “Luocha, Luocha…” Is all that can be heard in the room besides muffled gasps and melted noises of naked bodies colliding with each other.

Certainly unpredictable was meeting someone who’s but a travelling merchant, skilled enough to render you putty beyond measure with just a verse of his saccharine voice and touches. You don’t believe him anymore. Though you cannot find an answer to it at the moment whilst your brain just refuses to think of anything else except how well you’re currently getting fucked by that gentleman.

The beauty above you lowers his face close to your own, his treacly lips catching your own with a delicate bite, trailing down your jawline and neck with slow kisses. Lukewarm and wet, like the summer mizzle. Just merely too fast for you to appreciate his features before the golden curtain of his bangs falls across his cheekbones.

“Are you doing well, little thing?” He asks quietly into your collarbone, immediately switching your focus from his words to his cock. With a tender push, he stays still for a moment, pulsing flesh pressing constantly on all your sensitive spots.

“Too well…” you utter with a weak, genuine smile.

He smiles back. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

Luocha continues thrusting in and out at a suave pace, pounding into you with a special sense of skill and gentleness. Hauling into your cunt with each drag of his lean hips, his pace is unbothered, almost lenient with the offputting care. As if this meeting is sensible somehow, way above than what it truly is — a transient exchange of lecherousness, nothing more.

With his hands clamped around your waist, lifting you up slightly up from the bed, his swollen length reaches far inside of your aching core at that perfect angle, the tip gliding repeatedly against the sweetest patch of your walls. Drizzles of pre mingle with your essence and souse your puffy petals whenever he retreats from the confines of your insides, a proof of enjoyment that none of you is able to say out loud.

To keep him close — merge into the comfort of feeling someone’s warmth — you wrap yourself around his willowy silhouette, a ribbon made of entangled limbs.

“I wish we could meet again before we part ways.”

“You’re still here with me.” He hums into your ear, once again leaning in to smooch the side of your head, tickling your sweat-sodden hairline. “You should focus on that for now.”

All the overstimulation is taking your breath away, specs of drool sprinkled in the corner of your lips. His palm pets you softly between your legs, extracting another weep from your throat and a wobble of your tense thighs. The sudden impact of his digits rubbing on your clit draws you nearer to your orgasm; and he wishes to see it soon, so he concentrates on your reactions, tongue slightly peeking out from behind his teeth in concentration.

Your whimpers and cries — pure eroticism that makes him consider if it’s even worth to waste the softness of your fevered skin for a meaningless exchange. If one night can turn so satisfying, a pity it would be to say goodbye instead of promising another and another meeting after that. Perhaps…

AUTHOR’S NOTE — most of those are old thirsts that i put into one post with slightly edited past typos. but the hilarious thing is that luocha’s part had to be almost entirely rewritten today — and maybe it’s not visible to others, but i giggled comparing my writing. it’s like a rollercoaster from my perspective hehe

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darknight3904 · 1 month ago

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buy me presents, baby!

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: The holiday season is packed enough as it is. On top of it all, Joel has a cute little girlfriend he just can't seem to resist spoiling...

Warnings: 18+ Explicit Smut Unprotected p in v, literally one spank, riding, missionary, Joel's a bit of a tease, pregnancy mention (no ones actually pregnant, don't worry) No outbreak au, modern au, viagra mention, unspecified age gap (mid/early-20s reader in mind), Rich older bf Joel!! I don't know how Hinge works sorry.

Word Count: 2.7k

Based on the song buy me presents by Sabrina Carpenter

Masterlist

The local mall was a buzz with what you swore was the entire state of Texas. Everywhere you turned, someone was brushing by you, mumbling an excuse me or just grunting an apology.

"Maybe we should just go home...There's so many people here." You say as you stand off to the side.

"Oh c'mon we drove all the way here, don't you wanna take a peek at some things, darlin'?"

Joel's warm southern tone sent a tingle of warmth down your spine. He was always so charming, that's how he won you over in the first place, his charm.

You'd stumbled across his Hinge profile six months ago. Your friend, Jess had jokingly set your profile to look for men over ten years older than you.

"Trust me, Dilfs are a whole different ballpark, girl!"

You hadn't believed her, after all, who would want some old half-bald, blue pill-taking man sitting across from them at dinner?

Things of course changed late one Wednesday night when Joel, 40 popped up on your screen. Not only did he have all his hair (and teeth!) but damn it he was so hot.

For lack of a better word, Joel was the perfect gentleman. He'd picked you up for your first date right at 7, opened all the doors for you, and even pulled your chair out for you to sit at the restaurant. Conversation had flowed so easily with him, that you'd almost forgotten you had just met the man across from you.

Fast forward a few months and here you were walking the mall with the head and Co-owner of Miller Construction Co. Joel's big hand cradled yours as he opened the door to Sephora.

"Said you needed some more of that lip balm you like right? Let's get it now."

You nodded and let him pull you into the store. He always did this, pulled you into stores so you could look at things. Of course, that wouldn't be a problem if he wasn't always buying half the things you picked up to admire. Hell, one time you were at Macy's with him and made a joke about the adult Spiderman onesie that was being sold, two days later it was sitting in your lap in just your size.

Jess had told you to enjoy it, to let him buy you everything your little heart desired but you couldn't help but feel guilty. You already spent most of your time sleeping at Joel's place, showering there, and eating his food. What were you even working for if you couldn't buy a measly lip balm for yourself?!

You pulled the one you wanted from the shelf. You'd run out a few days ago and your lips had begun to crack without it. Your eyes fell down to look at the price that was beside the scent

Twenty-four bucks?! That was nearly two hours of working at the shitty secretary job you had down at the local library! Whoever was setting prices at this company needed a serious reality check.

Joel's back was turned as he was staring at an array of brushes, mumbling that no one needed that many things for their face. Perfect! You could sneakily set this back on the display and-

"What're you doin'? Isn't that the one?"

Shit.

"Well yeah, but..."

"Then put it in the basket."

Joel's outstretched arm came up to present the little black and white basket he'd taken from a worker when the two of you entered.

"I just think that twenty-four bucks is too much for a little tube of lip balm. I think I'll just switch back to Carmex or Burts Bee's."

"Darlin' I'll buy it." Joel gave you a warm smile, "Let me spoil you."

"No way! You just bought me dinner!" You shake your head, thinking of your leftovers that sat in the backseat of his car.

"And now I wanna buy you a lip balm," Joel says taking it from your hands to put in the basket.

"Nope. We're not getting it." You say, pulling it from his hands and tossing it back on the shelf, "Let's leave."

Joel protests but lets you pull him from the store and back to the car.

Three days later...

Joel never liked shopping. He'd always been the kind of guy who bought the same shirt in multiple colors just because it made sense in his mind. Even when the company had taken off and he and Tommy were living comfortably instead of paycheck to paycheck, he hadn't really found an excuse to indulge and spend a lot of his hard-earned cash. Sure, he'd dropped a lot on a new car after his poor pickup truck had gotten rear-ended two years ago, damn teen drivers. Then, there was the new roof that his house needed last summer. But, both of those were easily paid off and Joel often found himself with a bank account higher than necessary.

It never bothered him, after all, it just meant retirement would come quicker, and if he ever had kids they'd have a lot of inheritance. Yes, Joel was happy living his simple lifestyle. Of course, that was until he met you...

You were just perfect in Joel's eyes. From the moment he saw you on that dating app Tommy had stuck on his phone, he'd known you were the one for him. Initially, he'd felt weird when he'd swiped on you, after all, you were so young compared to him. His fears though, they'd vanished the moment you started laughing at his lame jokes, adding your own even worse ones to the conversation. Yes, you were just perfect for him.

Now, it was December, the holiday season was in full swing and Joel found himself itching to spend some of that cash that'd been sitting in the bank for ages. He'd spent the last six months trying to keep the spending to a minimum, you always scolded him despite enjoying all of his gifts and he'd hate to make you feel uncomfortable. But after today when you'd put that little lip balm back on the shelf, he'd felt sad for you. Joel hadn't missed your small frown when it clattered back onto the display next to the others. You wanted that lip balm and, you were going to get that lip balm.

It was as if he was a man possessed. Three hours had passed since he'd walked into this mall and his arms were begging to feel a bit sore. Sure, he'd bought you the lip balm but before he knew it, he was wandering into all the other stores, looking for things that'd make you smile and cover his face in kisses. As he loaded the bags into the trunk a bit of worry crossed his mind. Had he gone overboard?

No, there definitely could be more...

December 25th, Christmas Morning at Joel Miller's

The warm scent of coffee had your eyes slowly pulling open. You groaned and pulled yourself out of bed, fumbling to pull Joel's shirt on before finding your discarded panties from last night. Whoever told you that older men needed Viagra to get it up clearly hadn't met Joel.

You padded down the steps to see Joel hunched over the stove, flipping pancakes while his beloved coffee maker brewed.

"Morning." You chirp, wrapping your arms around him, and resting your hands on his soft belly.

"Good morning." Joel's deep voice filled your ears

You greedily let your hands slip under the waistband of his plaid pajama pants. Joel lets out a hum and scoots away from you.

"Keep that up and we won't be eating or opening gifts til noon."

You roll your eyes and go to pour him his coffee.

After a delicious breakfast, Joel pulled you into the living room where your jaw nearly met the floor. Last night when you'd passed out in bed after the third round, there had been six presents under the tree, three from him and three from you. Now there had to be over triple that.

"What did you do?" You ask, spinning around to face Joel.

"What? I'm not allowed to spoil you?" Joel asks, a boyish grin on his face.

"It's like you bought the whole damn store and put it in your living room." You point out

"Not the whole store, just some of it." Joel laughs

Nearly an hour later, you were sitting in a pile of wrapping paper and bows.

"Alright, last one," Joel says, pulling a small gift bag with a snowman on it out.

You sigh in fake exhaustion, "Hand it over, cowboy."

Joel snorts and hands you the bag which a moment later you find has the lip balm you'd put back the other day.

"Went back and bought it for ya. Got a little distracted though..." Joel smiles

"Oh, only a little? Is that why there's lingerie and a new pair of boots sitting in boxes next to me?" You laugh, "Not to mention you even bought me a new frying pan."

"Yeah, just a little sidetracked s' all," Joel says, looking at the many different things he'd found for you.

"Thank you, Joel." You smile earnestly, "It's your turn now."

"Why don't ya model this for me, darlin'?" Joel asks, pushing the red babydoll dress towards you

"But what about your presents?" You pout, "I put a lot of thought into the one with the green paper."

"Give me a fashion show, it can be part of the gift." Joel coerces.

"Ugh, you're lucky you're hot, Joel." You huff, scooping the fabric up and heading off to the bathroom.

Joel lets out a long whistle as you reenter the living room, "Well, would you look at that?"

"Pervert." You scoff as he pulls you into his lap

"Not allowed to appreciate my girl?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek

"You just wanted to see what my boobs looked like in red lace." You point out

Joel gives you a grin, busted.

"Nah, what makes you think that?"

Joel's lips capture yours and his hands secure themselves at your waist. Your resolve loosens as your hands curl against the soft skin of his chest.

"What about your presents?" You ask breathlessly when he pulls back

"Got everything I want right here." He says, "Let's go upstairs, this old man needs a bed if he's gonna fuck you silly."

Joel's hands are back on you the moment he kicks the bedroom door shut. His lips find yours again as his hands begin to pull the straps of your outfit off your shoulders.

Your back hits the mattress and one of Joel's big hands snakes down between your thighs.

"Still wet from last night." Joel laughs into the kiss

"Mmm, I think it was from earlier. Seeing you shirtless, cooking for me was hot." You admit

"Yeah? Y'like me cookin' for ya?" Joel asks

"Course, who wouldn't wanna see a hot old man cooking pancakes for them on Christmas?" You tease

Joel delivers a sharp slap to your inner thigh, "Not that old, darlin'."

"Sure you aren't."

You push at his shoulders and straddle him, loving the way his hands gently rest on your thighs.

You hum in delight as his hips lift and he pulls his pants off, finally exposing the rest of his body to your greedy eyes. Joel's lips ghost over your nipples, teasing them with his tongue as he lifts you up so he's notched at your entrance. Eager, you move to push him in but he stops you.

"What do ya say, baby?" Joel teases

"C'mon Joel..." You groan, "I want it."

"Ask nicely then," he clicks his tongue, "Go on,"

You huff a small breath of frustration and Joel's hands squeeze your hips.

"Please," You mumble

"What was that? This old man needs some help hearin' ya." Joel prods

"Please, fuck me, Joel." You groan, wiggling your hips as the head of his cock teases your hole.

"S' what I wanted to hear," Joel says, pressing a wet kiss to your neck

Joel's loud groan mingles with your girlish one as he lets you go to take him in. Your mind goes blank as your hips begin to rock. Joel's hands roam your body as he pinches and teases the sensitive flesh of your chest.

"C'mon girlie, give it to me." He encourages

"I'm trying." You huff, the feel of your burning thighs was slowing you down

A loud slap rings out followed by a yelp from your mouth. Joel's big hand rubs at the reddened mark on your soft skin.

"Don't worry, I gotcha, sweetheart, let me."

Your world turns as Joel lays you back down on the soft mattress, pushing your knees to your chest you're practically folded in half as he pushes in again.

"Fuck me..." Joel groans in pleasure above you.

"Already am." You laugh breathlessly

Joel shakes his head but you see the smile playing on his lips.

Rough thrusts steal your breath away as Joel begins moving his hips in earnest. The softness of his belly meets yours as he leans over you and presses his lips to yours. A hand pushes into the middle of your shared mess and a finger toys with your clit. A whimper escapes your lips as Joel groans when you tighten around him.

"Gonna let me come inside ya hmm? It'd be the perfect Christmas gift for me darlin'..."

Your brain is mush as Joel's finger plays with you while his cock relentlessly slams into you. Your stomach tightens as he continues.

"I-I'm gonna-"

"C'mon let it out, soak my fucking cock." Joel commands

As if he's magic your body yields to him and you come. A strangled groan leaves Joel's lips while your eyes slam shut.

"Good girl." Joel coos down at you, his hips never slowing.

"Joel!" You gasp, the pain of overstimulation beginning to ebb at your brain.

Joel lets out a soft moan of his own, his brow furred in concentration.

"Where?" He asks

"I-Inside" You gasp

Joel smirks, "Yeah? Gonna take it like a good girl? Let me knock ya up, pop out a brat for me in nine months?"

"Yes!" Your hips arch off the bed when his hand comes down to grind at your clit.

Joel's hips stutter against you and a loud moan escapes him as he fills you. Gentle thrusts follow as he comes down, dropping your legs as he does.

Joel flops down beside you on the bed, his chest heaves a bit as the two of you catch your breath.

"Y'okay?"

"Always." You say looking over at him with a dopey grin on your face

"Wanna go finish those pancakes?" Joel asks

You laugh, Joel was such a typical guy, thinking with his stomach, "You just fucked me and threatened to knock me up but your first thought is pancakes?"

"Well, I was gonna get a washcloth and clean ya up first, if that matters," Joel says

"Wow, what a gentleman." You scoff

"Glad you think so." Joel mumbles

You lay next to him in silence, listening to his breathing and watching his eyes flutter shut in satisfaction.

"What if we did?" You ask

"Did what?" Joel asks looking at you, "If you're talking about round two, I'll need a few more minutes, I'm not twenty anymore."

You slap his shoulder and roll onto your belly, "No, perv. I meant a baby. You were just talking about getting me pregnant."

Joel looks over at you like you've lost your mind, "Are you being serious right now?"

"Totally. You don't want a mini us running around?" You ask hopefully

"Course I do baby, didn't ever think a pretty young thing like you would want that with me though," Joel admits, pulling you towards him so you're resting partially on top of him

"Really Joel?" You scoff, "You're like the hottest guy in the world."

"Now you're just buttering me up." He laughs his head hitting the pillows behind him

"I'm serious!" You smile as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips

Soft silence flutters around you as you watch the gears turn in his mind.

"Gonna have to marry you if you start popping my kids out." Joel grins

"Of course," You laugh, "You think I'm gonna go into labor without a ring on my hand?"

Joel's nose brushes yours as he leans a bit closer to your face, practically breathing in your scent. His hand grasps yours where it rests on his chest.

"Guess I gotta start looking at jewelry then, darlin'. You're gonna have the prettiest ring in all of Texas."

"Ugh, there you go again, plotting to spend way too much money on me again." You groan in embarrassment.

Joel leans in and steals a kiss from you, the taste of pancakes and syrup lingers on his tongue as he does.

"Gotta humor me here," He smiles into the kiss, "Let me buy you presents, baby."

Consider this a mini-rant against the people behind the prices at Sephora. I'm looking at you Summer Fridays...

Want more Joel? Check out my series All Too Well.

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