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dovveri · 15 days ago

Note

pleaseee thigh riding with sana. shes extremely mean after a little teasing. lots of degrading. :D

the edge's temptation

synopsis: what the ask said

warnings: edging, spanking, pussy spanking, swearing, mentions of exhibitionism, kind of petplay? but not rly idk reader wears a collar and leash and sana calls her pup like once, grinding, thigh-riding, strap-ons, degradation

w/c: 2k

a/n: this has been sitting in drafts since... june 22 LMAOO id write like one sentence a week i cant write smut id rather kiss a man but here it is at last!! idk if the anon who req this is still here after all the drama but i think there are others who'll like this anyway bcs yall all horknee so enjoy!

｡ •̀ ᵕ •́ ｡

your girlfriend was impossible. she had already edged you twice tonight, and an orgasm was nowhere in sight.

"s-sana p-le-ase!"

she tuts, "what do you want?"

"wanna c-cum! p-please i've been- fuck- good!"

"good? bending over and sucking off half the audience is good?"

"i- i didn't- i didn't!"

"you basically did. you think just anyone can touch you? is that what we're doing now? fucking whore. you'd do anything for attention wouldn't you?"

"n-no! o-only yours- shit- sana please- i'm not- i'm good-"

"good girls don't lie. what you are is a liar and a slut. maybe i should just give you what you want. i can bring you back out there, fuck you in front of the entire award show. then they'll know they can't touch you right?"

you pulse at the thought, you know she'd never actually do it, she was way too possessive to let anyone else see you bare and ruined for her, but the slim possibility, the very real irritation she was exuding had you picturing exactly the situation she described. and fuck she was right, she knew you too well. you'd love to be claimed in front of everyone, for the whole world to see just how good sana could make you feel.

she chuckles darkly, ripping her fingers out of you, "clenching around me at that? and you say you're good. fucking pathetic. suck."

it's not a command. she shoves her fingers into your open, panting mouth roughly, chin tilting up at the sight of you. your lips immediately close around her fingers and you suck your slick off her digits obediently, eyes lidded, dizzy from the taste of yourself and the way she was treating you.

sana's eyes roam over the expanse of skin while you suck on her fingers, her hands tracing over the lines of your body. you're perched across her lap, her hand palming your ass, pretty lilac collar around your neck attached to a dark purple leash she's rolling around loosely in her other hand.

“look at you, dripping onto me. was this all me?” the hand that’s at your ass dips down, her fingers coming to slide between your soaked lips, “or was it the guys that fawned over you tonight? attention whore.” she sends a slap to your pussy, the contact making you whine, squirming away but also desperately needing more.

“i don’t even see how that one guy you let touch your waist was so funny. you were laughing so prettily, head tilted back, almost like you were tempting him to just claim the empty space on your neck.” she tugs the leash, your body lurching forward, pussy meeting her knee, throat constricting, trying to prolong the pressure on your cunt before she slaps your ass, pulling your hips back so you’re weight is on your hands and knees again.

“you’re mine. everything is mine. your voice, this pretty ass, these tits, your pussy, it’s all mine to feel, mine to enjoy, mine to see.” she punctuates each phrase with the tug of a nipple or a slap against reddened skin. “no one else can make you feel this good anyway isn’t that right slut? and yet you still look for that attention. it’s like you want me to get mad. is that it? do you want my attention? do you want me to treat you like this? you want me to get all possessive and mean? turns you on huh? well i hate to break it to you sweetie but only good girls get to cum.”

you whine, daring to turn your head to look at her with a pleading look, begging for something, anything.

she scoffs, "is that your begging face? i saw you use the exact same one with those guys tonight."

your face morphs into shock, trying to backtrack, "n-no i didn't! i didn't i swear- you- you must have seen wrong-"

"you saying there's something wrong with my eyes?"

"no! no no not you, p-please please i'm sorry i- i'll be good please-"

she tuts again, moving you around so you're sitting on her lap, dripping cunt finally getting some friction against the skin of her thigh. you moan at the feeling, frantically humping down against her while she has you there.

"look at you- pathetic."

you whine, wrapping your hands around her neck and burying your face into her shoulder, whimpering and gasping with each thrust against her thigh, too embarrassed to look at her but too desperate to keep yourself still. you almost cry out when she tenses her thigh, the muscle rubbing along your clit in just the way you needed.

"s-sana i want to- can i- please- i wanna-"

"what? what does my little pup want?"

"cum! c-can i cum!?"

sana's quiet for a little, you're almost afraid you've done something wrong or she's no longer into it, but you're physical needs outweighed your saner mind, your one-track mind only concerned with feeling as good as she was making you feel.

so you continue rutting against her, chasing your high desperately while she bites her lip, watching your tits sway with each thrust, her own position compromised as she feels herself grow sticky and wet from the sight and sounds.

you push against her, more and more, whining and moaning right into her ear, knowing she loves to hear you, testing her patience, fluttering internally at the way her grip on your hips tighten with each second, nails digging into your skin just enough to give that perfect sting you adored.

“s-sana? c-can i?” you ask again, holding back the looming crash of your orgasm through tensed muscles.

her eyes snap up to yours and then she grips your hips even harder, forcing you to stop.

you cry, body automatically fighting against her, trying to reject her, but it knew who owned it. you succumbed within seconds, gasping into her shoulder, mourning the loss of what could've been.

"at least you're polite now." her voice is gruff, nails still digging into your skin.

you can’t respond, too exhausted and despaired to do anything but cry.

you don’t even notice her shuffling you around, your hips canting up into nothing whenever she even lingers near your cunt.

that is until you feel the cool silicone strap dragging through your folds, lubing itself up in your essence, catching at your clit, then dragging back down.

you clench around nothing, throwing your head back with an arm over your eyes.

sana tuts, pulling it away, “look at me when i fuck you pup. i’m gonna make sure you remember who owns you.” she thrusts inside, doesn’t give you a chance to think before pulling back out, “gonna make sure you remember who you come home to.” another thrust. “going to fuck you out so good you’ll never be able to take anyone else but me.”

and then she takes off.

she’s gripping your hands together on your lower stomach. that way, your arms push your chest in for her pleasured viewing as she fucks into you with rigor. it also stops you from leaving lines of red down her back while she groans at the sight of the light purple strap attached to herself, grinding against her own clit with each thrust, pulling out wetter than it was each time it goes inside you.

“f-fuck- sana- oh god- i’m- you’re so good fuck-“

“yeah? can anyone else make you feel this way? anyone else- you’d cum for?”

“n-no! only y-you sana fuck- please can i- please-!”

“hold on a little longer baby- let me- fuck god you look so fucking good-"

you whine, thighs shaking as she keeps plowing into you, her eyes locked on the way she pushes inside you every half second. you don't think you can hold on for much longer, she had to understand right? she had edged you three times now, and you were already soo worked up even before she got her hands on you. that wasn't really your fault, she just looked so good in her pretty dress tonight and you couldn't stop imagining her between your legs, eating you out under the dining table while the rest of the world applauded people that would never hold a light to your girlfriend.

"sana i'm gonna- i can't hold it any longer-"

"i told you to fucking wait- fuck- you want me to stop again? huh? leave you hanging all splayed out and desperate to cum?"

you shake your head desperately, holding onto her wrists, eyes clenching shut trying to ward off the looming orgasm.

"i'm almost there baby we'll cum together- c'mon- fuck- you look so good- only i get to see you like this- fuck-"

you nod, her words swimming around in your head, doing whatever you can to appease her, hips returning her thrusts in a frenzy, not even trying to match her pace, just fucked out dumb and reacting with pure physicality.

she leans down, finally, panting next to your ear, thrusts reaching deeper than ever, "alright baby. cum for me."

you cum on command, clenching tightly around her and scream as you come undone, head thrown back, body fluttering and shaking as she continues rutting into you albeit slower and softer. you dimly register her muttering small curses against your throat as you come down, hips stuttering to a slow stop, still buried deep inside you.

you wrap your arms around her tightly now that she's freed you, hugging your sweaty bodies close and reveling in the feeling of her weight on top of you.

you lay like that for a few minutes, breathing in her scent and catching your breath together.

eventually, she has to pull out and you groan lightly as she gently coaxes herself off of you, brushing your sweaty hair off your forehead and pecking you sweetly.

you make grabby hands at her when she’s standing and taking the harness off.

sana giggles, “just a minute baby. you know i wanna cuddle too but i have to clean this.”

you whine incomprehensibly, mumbling a small hurry as she walks towards your bathroom and starts rinsing the strap off.

she comes back far too late for your liking so you try and make up for it by curling around her immediately, climbing almost on top of her and sighing when she runs a hand through your hair in comfort.

“good?”

“you don’t even have to ask.” you mumble against her bare chest, eyes drooping.

she giggles again, you feel the movement in her throat, “wasn’t too much right?”

you shake your head, “you were perfect. like always. thank you. i love you.”

you feel the smile on her lips when she kisses your forehead, “don’t pull that shit in public again or i swear-“

“you’ll fuck it out of me?” you glance up at her with a lazy smile and lidded eyes.

she rolls her eyes, tightening her grip around you, “spoilt.”

“because you love me.”

“i do. even when you’re being a brat.”

“you love when i’m a brat. you love taking power anyway since everyone thinks you can’t top.”

“who thinks that?!”

you shrug, cuddling closer as she gawks at you, trying to get you to look at her. “jeongie says it’s because you have no muscle.” you poke at her bicep lovingly, laughing when she blanches and tries flexing immediately, “nayeonnie says you’re too much of a baby.”

“am not!”

“and momo just doesn’t see it.”

“wha-“

“and she’s known you for the longest soo-“

“okay first of all my muscle is growing back! second, nayeon just says that because she treats me like that and she’s never known otherwise! and momo- momo’s just saying shit because she wants to mess with me!”

you laugh, clasping your hands together and kissing the swell of her breast, “i know i know… i’m not complaining anyway.” you stretch and curl back around her like a cat, “i get all the benefits.”

sana puffs her chest and you adore her pride. “that’s right.”

you giggle, kissing her again and continue talking about nothing and everything, a non-negotiable for the both of you after any session, no matter how quick or small.

#sana #minatozaki sana #twice sana #sana x reader #twice x reader #twice sana x reader #minatozaki sana x reader #twice smut #sana smut #sana imagines #twice imagines #dovveri

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lalunanymph · 10 months ago

Text

BLACKMAIL KISS — h. ran

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── a single night of rebellion against your husband, the mayor of Tokyo, in an underground Roppongi club, traps you right in Haitani Ran's web of blackmail and deceit—where every move you make could potentially be your last one.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── a bonten!haitani ran miniseries inspired by hametsu no itte

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── bonten timeline, fem!reader, wife!reader, reader is feminine coded (wears dresses, heels, makeup), heavy tones of cheating/infidelity, DARK CONTENT, blackmail, political drama, non-con recording, drugging, mentions of cigarettes, mentions of alcohol & drugs, edging training, tease and denial, orgasm control, phone sex, petnames (princess, good girl, whore, slut), coercion, reader is forced to take nudes, HEAVY TOPICS PROCEED WITH CAUTION

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── bittersweet blackmail with this playlist

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── masterlist

#1: i made another mistake

As a child, growing up with any lack of good direction or faith gave Haitani Ran an almost scary sixth sense when a person was completely foreign to his world of sin and greed.

Ran liked to think it was also his entire adult life spent in Kanto Manji, and now, Bonten which helped him discern the different types of brokenness in this messed up world.

It was a game he played with himself; observing the way some of them walked—an errant glance away or a quirk which would draw his sleepy-sharp lilac eyes to their floundering presence. He could almost always tell which girls in his club were the runaways. The druggies. The ones with abusive boyfriends. Sometimes, he liked to make a bet with his brother, Rindou, and see which one of them could get close enough—fast enough—to fuck the truth out of these crummy girls.

But, in all fairness, Ran’s game must be growing weak because the woman who had just entered his club was a complete enigma.

The taste of Hennesy was strong on his tongue; his hand clawing the warming glass with an uncharacteristic tension. Mikey had just expressed his suspicions of a mole in the organisation this afternoon, and Ran was on edge from figuring out which of the newly onboarded goons seemed the most suspicious.

In his heightened state of paranoia, he couldn’t be faulted for immediately spotting you from his perch in the VIP room the very second you stepped in.

Neatly styled hair, with press on nails clutching a small Balenciaga bag to your chest. A dress which fitted you perfectly and looked to be cut from a designer’s hand.

You definitely weren't the usual type of girl who swam with the sharks in these tanks. And so, the infamous older Haitani brother called over one of his men, nodding in your direction. “Keep an eye on the prissy one. She doesn’t look like she belongs here.”

“Yes, Sir.”

His bodyguard bowed, exiting down to keep an eye on this suspicious young woman who had caught his underboss’ attention. Ran lit up a cigarette, wishing he had something stronger with him besides menthol sticks when he noticed you crossing paths with someone in the middle of the dance floor. His eyes were quick to catch it.

A cordial nod. Something passed in a tiny ziplock bag into your hand.

Your smile which fractured a bouncing neon light across your surprisingly white teeth.

Ran immediately stood up, cigarette clenched between his teeth. Maybe this kind of attitude would cut it in other territories, but the King of Roppongi would never allow such an offence right under his nose. The people of this neonscape should only be taking meth from his supplies and his supplies only.

This could result in a potential gang war once word leaks out.

Ran took matters into his own hands, stubbing out his cigarette, beckoning another guard to him.

“Bring her up,” he pointed towards you. “And tell her the boss of the club wants to meet her up here for drinks. But, don’t scare her. I don’t want too much trouble tonight.”

The goon nodded, marching out of the room. Ran pinched the bridge of his nose, massaging it firmly. Already, he could hear your protests coming up the stairs, and mentally braced himself to thoroughly search you. This was going to be a long night.

“—I’m innocent!”

“He just wants to have drinks with you, miss.”

“But, I can order it downstairs—”

“—just for a minute, miss—”

“I have a husband—”

Feisty. Ran was intrigued by your fire. Without warning, he stood up and pried the VIP door open, stumbling you into a halt mid-tirade. After years of honing his charisma and working on his natural good looks, Ran sensed more than knew when a woman was succumbing to his charms. Their wide eyes would inevitably look him up and down, like you did, lingering on his broad chest, the slicked-back lilac hair. The piercing purple gaze and the sharp, handsome lines of his face.

He plastered on his most charming smile. “You must be the woman who has captured my attention. Please—join me for a drink.” His presence was dazzling, like a Venus Flytrap opening up boldly and brightly to seduce its bug-eyed prey before devouring them.

You were taken by the hand, deep into the heart of Roppongi’s most notorious club. Like entering a lion’s den, you didn’t know where to look first—the seedy velvet couches, the lines of white still dotting the glass tables, or the sight of empty gun holsters upturned carelessly on the cushion seats.

Ran sensed your increasing panic and slung a long arm around your shoulder, drawing you deeper into his side. “Don’t be afraid,” he grinned, all sharp knives for teeth and false promises. “Nothing’s gonna happen to you here. I promise.” You looked like you didn’t believe him, not for one second, and Ran rushed forward to introduce himself, playing the part of the flustered club owner who was enamoured by you.

“My name is Haitani. Ran Haitani. I couldn’t help but notice someone like you entering my club and I just had to know you.”

“Why?” you were sceptical. Disbelieving.

Ran hummed. From the corner of his eye, his bodyguard was tapping away on his screen, pretending to look bored when everyone in the room knew he had the most important job of all. It wasn’t hard to coax you into the velvet seat—you looked like you would bolt at any second, but at the mention of gin on the house, you visibly relaxed.

There was a look to you that was familiar, Ran decided. You had a face someone would’ve seen somewhere in magazines. Pretty, but not pretentious. Just conventionally attractive enough to hold his eye but not to indulge in it. Someone like a Chief of Justice’s wife, or a President’s mistress. Maybe he shouldn’t think so lowly of your position just because you were here—you could’ve been a CEO of your own company, except most girl bosses he knew would be asleep at this time of the night to prepare for another day in their obnoxious offices.

You sipped on a glass, careful to keep a distance from him. Ran noticed your lips never fully touched the glass rim, like you had practised all of your life to not leave a mark anywhere you went.

Most definitely someone related to a politician. His mind was racing, sifting through the sudden wickedness arising in his putrid thoughts.

A daddy’s girl turned rebellious. A trust fund granddaughter looking to blow off steam.

Something about you was familiar. And, you had mentioned a husband.

Ran pursed his lips, and he was about to straight up ask you who you were, when his bodyguard passed him the phone he had been casually typing on. Those sleepy lilac eyes widened infinitesimally, his breathing stuttering.

He had seen your name before—it rang in the recesses of his memory.

But, that would mean…

Tsunake. Tsunake Y/N.

It seemed like fate decided to extend a kind hand the years he spent trying to avenge his one and only best friend.

Ran’s grin became predatory—tinged with a hint of excitement.

“So… what’s the mayor’s wife doing in this part of the town?”

Having blown your cover off, Ran was left with your comically alarmed expression. You nervously set your glass down, tittering through tight, red lips. “What makes you think I have a reason to be here?”

Without warning, he slung his arm around your waist. It happened too fast—fading into a blur. One second, you thought he was going to force himself on you, and before you could even scream, this mysterious man had managed to flip open your purse and pry out the ziplock pouch of drugs.

“H-hey—!”

“Ecstasy,” Ran pried open the bag, taking one sniff of the contents. “Mixed with a little bit of molly. Are you looking to have a cardiac arrest tonight, Princess?”

You bristled, baring your teeth. Despite being filled with two glasses of gin, you were surprisingly still sprightly on your feet. “Give that back,” you muttered hotly, glaring daggers into his skull. “It’s none of your fucking business what I take—you have no right to search me like that.”

“Oh, but I do.” Standing to his full height, Ran resisted smirking when you flinched and took a step back, bowed by his sheer size that towered over you. “I’m the owner of this club, sweetheart, and thanks to your stupidity, I now have you recorded through CCTVs picking up a trade on the dancefloor. I’m sure your husband—the Mayor of Tokyo—would hate to see pictures of his sweet wife blowing up in the tabloids in the middle of a buyoff, would he?”

The fire in your eyes dimmed, and if it was possible, even your diamond earrings dangling from your lobes lost their lustre. “You… how did you know?”

Ran shrugged. “I know a lot of things.”

A snarl decorated your blush red lips. “Are you blackmailing me?”

This time, Ran couldn’t help but grin. “You catch on fast.”

Shifting your weight from one foot to another, your withering gaze alternated between faux contempt and dread. Your mind worked quickly, Ran observed. Those pretty eyes darted back and forth, between the languid stances of his men trained to lunge at your throat in a moment’s notice, to the gangly, smug man who held your reputation in his depraved hands.

“What do you need me to do?”

You expected him to list off money and favours, not to snort and say, “What do you think I would want?”

“If it’s money you’re looking for, you won’t find it with me. My husband is not the generous kind,” you argued back hotly.

“Pass. Not what I had in mind.”

You wracked your brain. “I don’t have many connections outside of my home. I can’t give you political leverage and my husband doesn’t listen to me.” Your hands were beginning to sweat, hoping with all your might he bought your shoddy lie. Ran appeared like he didn’t.

“Come on. A husband who doesn't listen to his wife? Impossible.”

Sauntering towards you, his grin was a cocky curve standing out from the garish neon lights. Those half-mast eyes held a surprising gleam of reprehensible intent when they bore straight into your wide ones. “You’re lying to me. I bet you had to sneak out of your own castle to get here, Princess.”

He wasn’t wrong. You bit down on your tongue to avoid blurting out those incriminating words. “I told you. I don’t have the kind of power and influence you’re looking for.”

“Well,” Ran tilted his head to the side. “Seems like we’re at an impasse here. But, no matter. I’ve learned a lot in this life, Princess. And one thing that I can’t deny? How someone’s hand can move their own fate if they tried hard enough… or, they’re given a big enough shitstorm to wade through.”

You almost asked him what he meant when he pressed a hand onto your bare waist. The cold from his silver rings seeped into your skin, and you would’ve jerked backwards into the wall if it wasn’t for his grip tightening around you.

“Easy,” Ran murmured, pinning those heavy eyes onto you. He looked like he would’ve nodded off to sleep if you hadn’t felt the steel in his grip—how easily he could overpower you. “I’m not here to hurt you. I want you to trust me.”

Trust him? You almost spat back how stupid that idea was when he was steering you back to the velvet couches. Passing you a drink, he pressed it firmly into your hand with more force than necessary, and you sensed that you had no choice in refusing his offer.

Ran tipped his glass to clink yours, downing his gin and tonic in one go. You tentatively sipped on yours, wincing at the alcohol burn when it went down. The music changed, and without much reason why, the room felt more at ease. Those guards went back to their corners, playing poker, talking loudly, laughing rowdily. None of them were paying you two any attention, and even the lights felt warmer somehow. More welcoming.

You felt pleasantly sleepy, and Ran took your glass before it could spill onto the carpeted ground.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm, tired,” you slurred, slumping forward to rest your head on his shoulder. He smelled nice—like warmed vanilla bourbon on a rainy day. “I dunno why. I think I need to… to close my eyes…”

You had no idea how you ended up in his lap. Why his lips were on yours, tongue slowly tangling with yours in the deepest kiss of your life. You tasted the gin he downed, skin and something musky which reminded you of sweaty bodies writhing together. It made you wet; made you gasp into his mouth which heatedly spilled hoarse praises right down your throat. You were gripping his hair, his shoulders, his jacket. Trying to find an anchor to the sensations threatening to drag you under.

Ran kissed down your neck, sucking and mouthing on the skin hard enough that you could feel throbbing marks left behind.

“Can I touch you?” he breathed into the shell of your ear. You had no idea what compelled you to nod, but the second you did, his hand was between your legs, prying the seat of your thong aside.

He cursed under his breath when he felt how slick you were; how your folds were all glistening and ready just for him.

You started to rock your hips needily, little whimpers trickling past your clenched teeth. “Ran… Ran…”

His name sounded like a chime—a mantra you repeated over and over again as your thighs shook and your head lolled back. His slender, nimble fingers were too good. They were made for edging a girl right to a cresting orgasm; those cold rings touching your heated flesh left goosebumps at their wake, the contrasting sensations enough to make you even dizzier.

“Ran—” you cried out, back arching and clutching his hair in your death grip. He kissed the rise of your chest, sticky and glittering with sweat.

“Cum for me,” he murmured, hooking his finger against a tender spot inside of you which made your hips twitch—a minute tick signalling your desperation. “Let go for me, Princess.”

Every fibre of your being held no resistance; falling for his silky command. You remembered the searing heat, the tears beading on your lash line, how your hips were rocking to his mesmerising fingers which bullied more pleasure into your wrecked body.

Ran kissed you deeply while you came all over his fingers, your sobs and gasps reverberating around the strangely still room.

The last thing you heard was his voice in your ear, asking if he should call you a cab, and the next, your eyelids fluttered shut, the entire world going black.

You felt more than heard someone coming into a room.

Blinking your eyes awake, a weight settled at the foot of a soft bed, shirtless except for a pair of boxers clinging around his narrow hips. Silvery pale moonlight brushed strokes of pearlescent streaks on his inked torso, and slowly, the half-body of a dragon was coming into focus. Rushing to your senses, you gasped, sitting up, patting every inch of your body only to find you were still in your sparkly dress from last night.

“Morning, sunshine,” Ran mused, turning towards you with a cheeky grin on his handsome face. In your throes of deciphering the tattoos on his torso, you hadn’t noticed the ink at the base of his throat—a geometrical design which looked familiar, but you couldn’t quite remember where you had seen it before.

“Where am I?” your hoarse voice sounded crass even to your own ears. You cleared your throat, and he passed you a glass of water by his bedside table.

“My penthouse,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious answer. “I took you home after you passed out on top of me.”

Blinking, you set the glass down. A crawling sensation was growing in the back of your throat, slithering down your belly and settling right in the base of your body frozen to this bed. You glanced at the doors, windows and crevices of this room, looking for a place to hide—to run.

You had no idea what this man could want with you, but you sensed it was nothing good.

As if he could read your uneasy thoughts, Ran chuckled. “I’m not here to hurt you. After all, I already got what I wanted from you.”

Before you could prod deeper, Ran pulled up his phone, tapping on the screen. A grainy video of you straddling his lap while he kissed you with feverish lust came up, and you watched, struck with horror as your entire body fell apart for him, crying out his name with your toes curled in the periphery and back arched. All while you were already married to another man.

“No—” you swiped at the phone and he held it back, standing up tall and dangling it over your head.

Tears streaked down your face, joined with snot and a cacophony of your bitter protests. “Please, don’t do this!”

Your bleats barely phased him; after all, Ran Haitani was a man who had many begging at his feet to spare them or give them their sanity back. “No.”

The word devastated you, and you swore you felt your soul break into two. If word of this ever reached back to your husband…

District elections were just around the corner and your husband’s record had to be spotless. Any word of your actions tonight in the club, or even a whiff of your involvement with a man such as Ran, would ruin the airtight politically perfect reputation he had.

I have to protect him. You tried to make a grab for the phone again, but Ran jerked it away, shark-like grin growing wider, amused by this little game you two were playing.

“Ran, please—”

“I won’t tell him,” the bastard promised, a purple cowlick falling against his smooth forehead. Those neatly plucked brows furrowed together, and you could sense a ‘but’ somewhere behind his false reassurances. “But—I want you to do something for me.”

Here it was. In your mind, you pictured bribes. judging from his gang tattoo—shipments of drugs. A place to hide dead bodies.

You never expected what he would’ve said next.

“I want you to try and stop your husband from raiding our warehouses.”

Stupefied, your shoulders slumped forward. Tears beaded in your lash line. “How do you expect me to do that? I told you, he doesn’t listen to me—”

“Mayor Tsunake is a reasonable man,” Ran eyed you down the length of his nose. “Don’t you think so, Mrs. Tsunake?”

The sound of your married name coming from his rancid lips made you want to hurtle a fist right into his smug face. But, you sensed more than knew that Ran was a fucked up man in a position of high power—any sign of your rebellion will be met with consequences you couldn’t begin to fathom.

You eyed the tattoo on his neck again. “I can’t make that promise. I’m sorry,” you added, hoping he would let you go and forget about this entire night. All you wanted to do was head back home, ransack your alcohol supply and drink the memories of this horrible meeting away. Maybe you were locked in a dream—tucked safely in your Queen-sized bed while your imagination presented you with your worst nightmare.

But, this was more than just a figment of your nighttime terrors. Ran was real. This shitstorm you were in was real.

And it was waiting for you to step into its eye.

You swallowed. “What else do you want?”

Ran’s smirk tightened around the edges. “Good girl. I knew you would see reason.” Putting his phone down on the bed, he patted the edge, asking you without words to sit next to him. The mattress sank under both of your weight, and you kept a distance from him, jaw tight and fists balled on your lap.

One heavily ringed hand reached towards you, and you tried not to flinch when he gently patted your cheek.

“I want you to make yourself available to me. I’ve slept with plenty of women before, but never a mayor’s wife. It’s thrilling—this joy of trying not to get caught.” Those nimble fingers formed a loose cage around your throat, flexing them as if he were taken by a sudden, raunchy memory. “You were such a little slut in the club,” he crooned. “I want to push you harder—see what you’re capable of. All while you don’t let Mr. Mayor himself hear a peep from our little agreement, hmm?”

Heat soused down your spine, dusting your cheeks. I’m dreaming. You were in a complete daze. I must be dreaming because this isn’t real.

“Why are you doing this?” was all you could whisper, trying not to lapse into a tearful rage; your roaring emotions held behind a glass wall. You felt like the entire world could smell your shame—judge your stupidity.

Ran moved his hand down the column of your throat, skimming just above the rise of your left breast. He palmed it without a single word, satisfied how you squirmed in distress but didn’t make a move to stop his groping. Fondling the plump flesh, he squeezed it, flickering those lackadaisical lilac eyes to your mortified expression.

“Why?” He asked nonchalantly, slowly playing with your stiffening nipple underneath the flimsy silk and lace. The sharp edge of his thumb nail dragged along the perky bud, and he flicked it once, as if reprimanding your instant arousal. You flinched, soft gasp echoing around the spacious room, and his grin widened.

“Well, why not?”

Waking up alone in your large mansion, your entire body felt too heavy.

After the events of last night, you had stumbled back home, tiptoeing past the maids’ rooms, careful to not wake anyone before you succumbed to your deluge of raging sobs.

You must’ve fallen asleep sometime in the middle of your temper tantrum.

The space beside you was empty, and Makko must’ve still been out with his entire PR team, strategizing his winning message to blaze through campaign season. You barely noticed his absence last night—who would’ve thought a single excursion out to relieve your tension of being the perfect political wife resulted in your ensnaring tanglement with a dangerous, dark man.

Picking up your phone, you squinted at the sudden bright light on the screen, finding an unknown message.

It was an attachment, and you dread pooled deep in your belly when you read the text.

Until next time — H.R

Tapping open the picture, you nearly choked on your spit when you noticed your thong peeking through his clenched fist which was casually resting on the half of his inked chest. Your eyes burned as they scanned through the dips and divots of his muscles, and your throat ran dry, remembering how he had moved your body in ways you hadn’t expected a stranger could.

It was like he knew you—knew what you liked and what you wanted.

Without warning, his next text chimed in.

Are you awake?

He was waiting for an answer.

Heart in your throat, you texted back.

Yes, I am.

His reply came a second later. Good. Take off your clothes if you’re wearing any and lay back in bed.

Glancing at your modest cotton nightgown, you felt a shiver run down your spine which had nothing to do with the wind-free AC humming above you.

Why?

His answer was instantaneous.

Why not? Or did you forget our agreement?

The video. He was dangling it over your head like your deepest scarlet letter—goading you to deny him so he could make your marriage and husband’s career burn. It was with this single note of love towards the man whose ring was on your finger that you followed his instructions.

Once you were naked and lying back on your bed, you texted him a terse:

I did what you asked.

Send a picture.

The humiliation could’ve skinned you alive, but you complied. Angling your phone high up so your face was cut off, you snapped a picture of your bare body and sent it to another man who wasn’t your husband as you were perched right on your marital bed, fighting back the urge to find that bastard and kick him right in the balls.

Ran replied a second later.

Good girl. I’m going to call you now.

Without another second to spare, your phone vibrated.

You quickly grabbed your wireless buds, slotting them into your ears and pressed answer.

“Those sheets look comfortable,” he hummed, as a way of greeting. Your sour silence made him laugh. “Oh, lighten up. At least look a little happy. I did give you a huge orgasm last night.”

Ran was shirtless, the dips of his collarbones gleaming in the low light of what appeared to be his bedroom—the tattoo on his throat strikingly dark and haunting. His duvet was a downy white colour, the pillows under his head plush and inviting.

You spared a glance at your locked door before flitting your gaze back to his half-mast purple eyes. “What do you want?”

Ran hummed. “Is your husband there?”

Your brow furrowed, and he had his answer.

“Angle the camera to your pussy. Show me how you touch yourself.” Your minute hesitation earned you a hard glare. “Now, Y/N. Or, yesterday night’s video will be in the mayor’s inbox in less than 5 minutes.”

The tattoo gleaming from his throat made you shiver, and you hastened to follow his orders. Lifting your phone and balancing it on your sternum, you aimed the camera right between your legs, thighs still chastely clasped together.

“Good girl,” he purred. “Now, spread your folds. Touch yourself.”

You obeyed him, like a puppet to a demented master—you touched yourself for Haitani Ran to enjoy, your forced submission a feast which he devoured upon. Ran’s breathing grew heavier from the other end of the line, and you heard the hitch in his groan when you parted your slick folds, showing off the strands of arousal webbing in between your middle and index fingers.

“Taste yourself.”

Your cheeks burned, and humiliation once again trampled all over your common sense to put a stop to this. In a sick, twisted way, the pain of not having control over your own body—your own reactions—was downright heady.

A blissful buzz hummed in your mind, and you barely gave another lucid thought before your fingers were stuck down your throat, lapping at your own sweet and salty nectar. Ran couldn’t see you deepthroating your own digits, but he heard the soft squelch of your tongue and mouth.

“Fuck—touch yourself again.”

His command was met with little resistance. You rubbed your clit, mouth falling open, your soft pants filling the space of this luscious bedroom.

“Are you close?” Ran’s husky voice filled your ears, and you suddenly came to the realisation of how pleasant his voice sounded. Not too brash or low. Just the right amount of husky and baritone.

“Mhm,” you murmured. So far, you hadn’t moaned or mewled—too stubborn to let yourself admit to your body’s baser needs and how Ran was adeptly pleasuring you, even when he was far away. You kept your teeth clamped onto your lower lip, only allowing yourself a few trembling breaths.

“I can see your hips twitching.” His voice was going to drive you insane. “Look at how hard those nipples are. They’re so aroused.” You glanced down at the buds straining in the cool air, and something about his casual observations on your body made your walls clench—sucking in your fingers deeper.

Without warning, a soft moan slipped past your clenched teeth.

Ran was quick to react—to swallow down on your shame. “What was that? Is the little slut getting turned on from this? That’s pathetic. I’m not even touching you.” He continued with his parade of casual cruelty, making you feel both small and desirable. “Come on. Moan for me again. You can show me you’re a whore again, yeah?”

What is wrong with me? It was like you had zero control over yourself; your body was responding to such blatant degradation—nipples circling and hips twitching. You could taste your orgasm in the back of your throat.

“Mhm!” you cried out, glad he wasn’t here to see your mouth falling further open, or the saliva pooling down the corner of your lips. “S-Shit…”

Your hips had a life of their own; they swirled, twitched and pushed against your furious fingers, pumping to try and take you down your high. You’ve never squirmed this badly for a man—never shamelessly moaned for him to release you from ecstasy’s hostage.

“Please,” you gasped out. Ran chuckled softly. “I-I need—”

“No,” his voice, silky smooth, was deceptively drenched with pity. “You can’t come, baby. You know I won’t give you that so easily. Stop touching.”

Your fingers couldn't seem to cooperate. Your whine was saturated with absolute need. “Wh-why? Please…”

“No. Stop right now or I’ll release the video.”

That threat was enough to throw cold water on your arousal, and you immediately ripped your hand away from your thighs, crying out softly in protest and embarrassment. Ran was quiet as your pants turned into ragged breaths, your thighs twitching like someone was running aftershocks through your veins.

“Turn the camera back to your face.”

You knew better than to disobey him. The second the front camera switched on, you almost flinched in shock. Your eyes were red-rimmed, like you had been crying—they were wide and glossy, not a hint of defensiveness in them. It was like Ran had stripped you free of your prickliness, leaving you in a ball of your own vulnerability. The shame and hormones coasting in your system left your cheeks flushed and mouth wet with spit.

You looked like a woman who had been purely ravaged, all desperate and teary.

Ran, in contrast, barely had a hair out of place. He still wore that same easy smirk, though the apples of his cheeks were a bit pinker than you recalled.

“Go and take a picture of yourself and send it to me. I’ll be waiting, Y/N.” He didn’t give you a chance to protest, clicking the call off and leaving you stewing in your thoughts.

Your mind was on overdrive, the tips of your fingers tingling. Ran must’ve given you a choice to send in the picture when he left you alone to your devices; as a way for him to gauge how serious you took his threat.

The burning shame pooled in the back of your eyelids, and you let your head fall back into the pillows, exhaling a hitched breath that sounded almost like a sob.

Why is he doing this? What does he want?

Ran had taken your body through the wringer; testing both your patience and determination to protect your husband’s reputation at the expense of your sanity.

But, was it worth it?

The ticking clock on your wall counted down your minutes of procrastination. Ran had never mentioned when he expected you to send in the picture—did he want it now? A spike of anxiety clobbered your chest. Oh god, what if he had been expecting it a few minutes ago and was already about to send the video of you grinding on his fingers to your poor, loyal husband?

Quickly, you sprang to your feet, ignoring the throb of neglect between your thighs to pose in front of the mirror. The morning sun splayed itself across your bare stomach, speckling across your chest and arms. In this angle, you were an erotic painting come to life; the spark of desire you felt had dimmed after all these years of being the steadfast, politically stable wife was flickering back up into a small flame, deep within your chest.

What is happening to me? Your thoughts were in a spiral as you angled your body, showing off your shapeliness and the feminine submissiveness dripping down your thighs. Am I going insane?

You snapped one photo. Then two, for good measure. You kept your face hidden by your phone, smartly avoiding any chance of recognition.

Tapping on the screen, you sent the photos to his number, praying he wouldn’t ask you for more—to push yourself further for his sick, pervasive delight. But, your hopes were dashed when he replied a second later, with a string of terse instructions.

I want your face in them, Y/N. Kneel on the bed and spread your thighs. Take a higher angled photo so your face is in it. Do not disappoint me again.

Unbidden, you felt like shards of glass were stabbing your soul.

Do not disappoint me again.

If your shame could be seen, it would be curling its shoulders into itself—whether out of self-preservation or despondency, you dared not uncover.

But, you followed his instructions clearly. The photo came out better than you hoped for. Your flushed folds were the centre of attention, your fleshy clit fully out in the open as a reminder of your denied orgasm pulsing through you.

Your expression, however, was the one which took you completely by surprise. There was open want in the curve of your brow, how your lips parted to reveal a glossy ring of spit. Shame and desperation shone from your eyes, giving you a coquette look which you hadn’t expected to see from a woman of your age.

You wanted to touch yourself—hoped he would be kind enough to give you your release when he saw that you were trying. You were trying to be good for Ran; you were trying to follow his orders the best you could.

His response came a second later.

Good girl. I want you to repeat this again tomorrow. And again the day after. Deny yourself for me, and take a picture for me every time you do. Don’t cum until I give you permission to.

Dread coursed through your veins, heady and pure. Did he expect you to never experience pleasure? What about if your husband fucked you and you accidentally came? The horror solidified in your stomach like a cold, festering fist. It was impossible to do this to you—to control you so harshly when your life was never his to own in the first place.

Anger came next—coarse and bitter. Who did Haitani Ran think he was to blackmail and push you around? You were the mayor’s wife. You could get a cop on his ass faster than anyone in the district could. If you wanted to destroy his life, all you could do was lift a finger and it would be done.

But, as if he could read your mind, his response came in, timely and concise.

I would advise you to not let anyone know you’re fucking a Bonten executive. It won’t look good for your husband’s records.

Bonten. The fear crested, taking you down under. You dropped your phone onto the bed, slapping a palm to your mouth.

Bonten. No wonder the tattoo under his neck was familiar—you had seen it before in your husband’s civil report, under the tab Illegal establishments: Yakuzas.

Bonten.

Japan’s most feared organised crime syndicate.

A ruthless band of unknown men who controlled the vast underworld with a tight, iron fist. This is bad, you started to heave, the panic clamping down on your throat. This is really, really bad.

Before you could spiral into your mind and start panicking, your screen flashed with another message, this one solidifying how utterly fucked your situation was; how you had unwittingly ruined your own life in one single, careless night.

Don’t forget that your orgasms belong to me now, slut. This is our little secret now.

Shit.

Just what exactly had you gotten yourself into?

#ran x reader #ran smut #ran haitani smut #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani x you #bonten #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev x y/n #series: blackmail kiss #🦢 writes

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ddreamywitch · 4 months ago

Text

Chapter Two - Butchered Tongue

knight!benjicot blackwood x princess!reader

word count: 3.7k

a/n: a little late but here we are :)) I’m so grateful for all the nice people who have reblogged and commented!!

warnings: mentions of an orphanage, dead mums and Benji is still a little drama queen

song: Butchered Tongue - Hozier

chapter one

Benji hates the capital.

It stinks and it is always busy, with narrow dark alleys that lead nowhere and depraved people lining them.

His life has been ripped from him and handed into your hands. Hands free of calluses and scars, not a speck of dirt caked beneath their nails and yet, no matter how delicate and weak, they hold his fate.

He isn’t meant for a knight’s life, all honour, no freedom. And least of all he is meant for the life of a knight in this godforsaken city, which seemingly offers nothing but sin and tragedy.

Benji has always found the king to be terribly unlikeable. A slimy little man, who had been quick to put to the torch what his ancestors had built up in this realm. He had forgotten just how severe it all is, with his home so far removed from this but now, as he stands next to you, he thinks he could just vomit. He won’t of course, he isn’t like you, with your weak demeanour, to faint at that little bit of sun.

Today you still look pale, though you’d spent the last three days on bed rest, days which he had to spend simply waiting around in front of your chambers.

He was almost glad when he was informed that you were to visit one of the city’s orphanages.

In your hands you hold a woven basket and you listen to the nun introduce you to the children, with little humility.

He doesn’t understand why all the realm is always fussing over you, so far you have yet to live up to any of the tales that have been spun around your name.

Well except, perhaps, those of your beauty. Though it may pain Benjicot to admit it, it is clear as day that you are exquisite.

But still you do not seem as clever or as kind, let alone charming, as he had been led to believe, to him.

He hopes that you are vain and offended enough to want to be rid of him by the end of the week. He would likely be exiled then, but it seems a better destiny than spending the rest of his life devoted to some strange girl he’s only just met.

He had refused all marriage deals before this, and in this scenario he would never be able to bed anyone again. Truly an awful thing for a young man of his age to behold.

Uncomfortably he shifts from one foot to another as Sister Linda continues to rattle on. He’s avoiding to look into the sad faces of abandoned children, so he regards you instead, boring holes into your frame with all his might.

You are wearing the same smile he’d seen you wear during the knighting ceremony. Practised and detached. It seems quite unbelievable that anyone should fall for this masquerade of yours, but apparently it works.

You’re dressed in the colours of your house, though a paler version of them. Lilac. It has only very thin sleeves and he can see the fading imprint of his fingertips on your arm. He had gripped you a little harshly during your little incident, too much taken by surprise to consider his own strength, and then, of course, he was immediately praised for being the perfect pick for his position, so eager to protect his princess.

He should have just let you tumble to the ground, he thinks. But his instincts had betrayed him.

You do not shift every few minutes like he does. You’re very still, hands gripping a woven basket filled with gifts for the children and only every now and then do you react to something.

A humble laugh here, an interjection of a ‘thank you’ there.

Your brother had informed him that you do this every week with a different charitable institution. Much to his dismay, he would have to accompany you to an infirmary next time. As though the city itself didn’t spout enough risk of infection.

It is so foolish, to have you, of all people, visit all these poor souls, give them your feigned smile and a present which leaves not even the tiniest of scratches in the wealth of your father’s house.

Pretentious is what it is. You’re nothing more than a third-born woman, you hold no importance to the politics of the land.

The nun finishes her ode to you and you bow your head graciously. “Thank you, Sister,” you say.

The old hag blushes, like a little girl and Benji simply cannot help the little scoff that escapes him.

Your head shoots around, eyes widened as though you had forgotten about his presence at all, but you compose yourself quickly.

“Ser Benjicot, would you help me hand out the baskets please?” You ask, voice dulcet and melodic. You had chosen a different path than him, after your near catastrophic first meeting.

You have settled on greeting him with exaggerated sweetness.

A farce, he knows it. It is just a question of time before you would tire of it and go crying to your brother that you want a different knight.

He nods at you and the children are quick to line up, each of them eager, with glowing eyes.

You kneel down before them, dress skirts puffing up around you and begin to give them their gifts. There are toys and clothes for the winter time and little cakes and he wonders how in god’s name this is to be of use for longer than a blip in time. They’d outgrow the clothes and they’d fight over the toys the moment you would leave.

It is money which they need, money that currently adorns you in gold and fine silks.

Most of the younglings do not speak to you directly, too shy or too worried about what to say but some grin at you in that untamed way that only children do.

You ask them if they would like a hug or not and they all say yes.

Benji keeps giving the next basket to you, slowly emptying all the trunks that had travelled with you on your carriage. He is about to hand you the second to last one when he finds a little girl perched in your lap.

A redheaded small thing, fragile with scuffs and specks of dirt all over her. Her hair is matted.

“She just arrived this week,” Sister Linda tells him, despite him not having asked. “She’s refusing to take baths.”

He looks at the nun and then back at you.

Surely, you must also notice that stench radiating off the girl, even the other kids have taken a step back, but you do not react.

“My mumsy said yer’ a baker of hope,” the little one mumbles, grimy fingers clutching at the pendant which dangles from your neck. It is amethyst, a dark one, set in precious gold.

You laugh, soft and careful and pat her back. “I believe she said beacon, sweetling. I am not much of a talented baker.”

The girl shrugs. “Your necklace is nice.”

You hum.

When your carriage had entered the heart of the city, you had scrunched your nose in disdain, Benjicot had seen it. It is somewhat paradoxical to this interaction.

You lean even closer, dip your mouth down to the girl’s ear and whisper something. Her mouth drops into a big ‘O’ and she nods before slipping off of you.

You twist your upper half towards him, opening your arms to receive the last basket.

The little girl takes it into her hand and then you do something entirely unbecoming and wink at her. She giggles and with that you get up, knees clicking.

When you grab Benji's arm for support, he almost rips it away before coming to his senses.

But you notice his little twitch and raise an eyebrow at him, hand returning to your side.

“I believe we have done all for today, Sister Linda,” you say. “We shall see each other in about two moons, if god allows.”

The sitter curtsies. “We owe you and the king our deepest gratitude. It is always a delight to have you visit, your grace.”

Benjicot rolls his eyes at this and then, reluctant as ever, offers his arm to help you down the stairs.

You ignore it, surprisingly, dress bunched in your hands, and hurry down the hallway, him hot on your heels.

He catches up within two steps, with no layer of tulle holding him back and practical leather boots in lieu of your ornate heels that click along the cobbled grounds beneath you rapidly.

“Are we in a haste?” He asks and you stop only when you’ve reached the door.

“Ah, so he speaks,” you say, with none of the kindness you had just displayed a few moments ago.

You’re right. Holding his tongue is likely more effective in his ploy to gain freedom back.

He huffs and opens the door, you are halfway through it before you turn right back around and this time he can barely bother to rush after you.

Your hands fiddle with something at the back of your neck and then from where he stands he realises that you’ve taken the necklace off and suddenly the little girl appears from the top of the stairs, where all the other children had disappeared from already.

You hand it to her, crouched down to her level once more.

Now he regrets not having gone after you, too far to hear what you tell her.

And just as abruptly as your manoeuvre had begun, it is over again.

“Let us go back now, I am quite famished,” you tell him, not a single look spared in his direction, as you pass by.

Still, he thinks your cheeks are flushed.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It is quite laborious to not speak.

Especially for a man like Benjicot Blackwood, who is so often quicker with his tongue than his better judgement, who so loved to brag and yell and debate and laugh loudly.

Silence does not suit him.

The only person he has spoken with at court so far, is your brother, if only to request that he isn’t made the full armour of knighthood, a wish that he was granted.

He is almost entirely certain that it is his reputation which allowed him this luxury.

You had addressed the wardrobe change and told him that you were glad that he wasn’t forced into all the steel, the way Ser Rickon before him had been.

Benjicot had only grunted in return.

That is all he allowed himself towards you: grunt, scoff, huff, sigh. Perhaps roll his eyes, or make some other dismissive gesture.

You have yet to abandon your stubborn idea of being patient with him. You don’t chastise his behaviour and you can’t have complained to anyone because in turn nobody has told him to get it together.

As it is now, nobody speaks to him, most courtiers preferring to whisper.

Bloody Ben, they all still hiss behind his back, even though he does not at all feel like him anymore.

Bloody Ben is in the Riverland, in the rise and fall of its hills, buried in its luscious high grasses.

Here he is Ser Benjicot, a trapped up bird.

But he does grow hopeful each day, with every little crack in your angelic facade, with the thinning of your web of false amiability.

When he’d walked with you to the stables this afternoon, you had pushed him to the side to enter first.

Very subtly, maybe not even noticeable to any passerby, but he had felt your well-kept nails in the soft leather guarding his forearms.

And then after, as you had mounted your horse, you had barely waited for him to join you before galloping on out toward the private part of the beach.

Fury, your horse is called, which he thought so ridiculous that he had laughed upon hearing it, but seeing it now, he understood why.

It is bloody enormous. A black Friesian, the kind that is usually bred to the north of the kingdom. And just barely tamed, vehemently refusing to let Benjicot near it.

You’re leaned forward on her now, arms wrapped around her neck, your eyes trained on the sea.

The weather is rough today, strong winds tearing at your hair and coat.

Laughable, he thinks again. Your attire is made to resemble that of the cavalry, deep purple overcoat and a brooch resembling a horse attached to it, right on your chest.

But you are the princess, so of fucking course, your overcoat is embroidered with a golden sun. Of fucking course it is neat and clean. It’s a costume.

Everything you put on is a costume, down to the faces you make.

He’d say he hates you, but then again he has actually hated people in his life before and he doesn’t care that much for you.

“Quit that, will you?” you say, voice raised enough for him to hear you over the roar of the ocean. You look at him, brows pulled into a frown.

He tilts his head, redirects his horse to parallel yours, rather than face it. “What do you mean, your grace?”

You sigh. “Do not act stupid, Ser Benjicot. You look as though you may push me off my horse at any moment.”

He snorts. “I do not.”

“You do. It’s tiresome. I cannot make this feat easier for you, but why do you insist so on making it harder for me?”

This time he doesn’t snort. “Harder for you? Just because I refuse to be your friend, does not mean I am making it harder for you. It isn’t common to be so close with one’s knight. Just because you let Ser Rodrick do all sorts of things with and to you.”

You do not miss the implication of this. “It is treason, what you hint at. It is treason that you should think so lowly of one of the most honourable men in the realm. It is treason to speak of my maidenhood in such a lewd manner.”

Benjicot directs his gaze into the skies. They are grey, waiting to erupt. “I did not say it, did I?”

You huff. “Toad.”

His laugh startles you, he sees you flinch in the corner of his eye. “Too well behaved to even curse properly,” he mutters. “Do you have no emotion left, princess? Was your outburst in the garden the peak of it?”

You do not answer yourself at first, the crashing of waves, the sea gulls, they seem to do so for you. Benjicot wonders if this would be your last straw now.

He decides to push further.

“You are pampered and spoiled. You think you can give away necklaces and make up for it that way. You think that if you’re patient enough, I’ll come to like you as everyone does, but I’ll tell you now, I never will. I am not like the courtiers, blinded by the colours of your clothes and the shine of your royal hair. I do not care for your title or your wealth or your looks.”

He makes a point of staring at her then, surprisingly to find her expressionless and already looking at him. “You are nothing but shackles to me.”

Again you don’t speak. You hold his eyes and for a moment he thinks you would be the one to push someone off their horse

“Get down,” you say.

Benjicot’s smile grows. He’s been told that he smiles like a shark and he hopes you share this sentiment.

“Get down, Blackwood.”

He obliges. He’s done it, he’s hurt you enough. He is triumphant. He is already planning to find the next tavern.

Then you slide off your own horse.

“You have no idea of shackles, you imbecile.” Your voice is laced with venom, angry and acidic. “You are here because nobody wants to tolerate you. You are here because you are a child, a child with an affinity to violence. You are here because with you remaining in the Riverlands, the Brackens would have never agreed to my father’s attempts to finally bring peace upon your houses.”

He towers over you, but you do not appear to mind as you step closer and closer still, so close that he can smell your saccharine perfume emanating from everywhere and engulfing him like a cloud of roses.

“You think it is good that you are feared, but it is the opposite. Good people are good. Good people do not have others crossing the room to be removed from them. You are nothing short of a small babe throwing a temper tantrum. You should consider yourself lucky that somehow you managed to make your contribution to end this foolish bloodshed between the Brackens and the Blackwoods, even though you worked so hard to keep it alive. Perhaps God will be gracious when you go to meet him then, knowing this. I cannot rid myself of you, without having you killed, you are essential to this plan, so unless you wish to meet our Lord himself sooner than planned you must either learn to be civil or learn to be silent.”

You exhale deeply.

“I do not wish to order your execution, I have never had to do such a thing before in my life and it should be a pity that I were to soil my hands on your youthful blood,” you end.

Benji can see the way your chest heaves, the little specks of red that decorate your cheeks. You are nervous but still you don’t waver.

The two of you stand in your positions, you with your arms crossed in front of you and him with his hands by his side.

Useless hands, he realises now. All is useless, no part of him has any power in this play.

He clears his throat and steps back, unsure what else he should do, for what is likely the first time in his life.

You nod, lips pressed together. “Silence it is then,” you say and he can’t help but wonder whether he imagines the tinge of disappointment in your voice.

It is very benevolent of you to not further comment on his indecencies, more benevolent than you should be but you are aware that he wasn’t raised in this pit of snakes. He doesn’t know of the conniving vipers that surround you and he is not learned in making up plans.

The urge to scream gnaws at Benjicot, at the dawning of how final his place by your side is.

There is no way out.

The king and his uncle promised the Brackens that he is no longer a threat to them. He is the debt that was owed and this is his price to pay.

And so is his gratitude for being a wonder boy, for having wielded swords and bloodied himself so early and so well.

“Ser Benjicot?”

He looks at you, upon your horse once more. It is becoming a thing of frequency for one of you to have to look up at the other.

He nods and so the two of you make your way back to the castle.

It is different this time.

He had dreaded it, a few days ago, when the city had come into sight on the horizon, but back then he had thought that he would weasel his way out.

This time, as you approach the castle, he feels himself suffocate.

Garden strolls, orphanages, banquets, infirmaries, this small beach.

You have no idea of shackles.

You trail ahead of him, high up on Fury, no tiara but hair wreathed around your hair in such a way that it is hard to mistake you for anything other than what you are, even sparing your very obvious clothes.

House Aprikate has historically brought forth women of the utmost charm, soft skinned and smiles that ballads are written about and many say it is their princesses that are the backbone of it all. Kind and warm. The mothers of the realm.

Your dynasty is one of greatness, for a century now your house has ruled the kingdom but it is withering now.

The smallfolk grows unhappy, uneasy beneath the sloppy sovereignty of your father.

He is shackled to you and you are shackled to your house and to this place.

And worse so, he has been free before. You have not.

He swallows his ache, as best as he can, still it tastes bitter on his tongue and by the time you reach the stables, he wonders if execution is still better than this appalling place is.

Maybe your father would marry you off to somebody far enough away from this place. A Bracken, for example.

God. Maybe your future husband would dismiss your knight and replace him with a man of his own. Yes that might be his out.

You’re an Aprikate woman, you would marry soon, he is sure of it.

The sun begins to set and paints the skies in shades of magenta and orange when you walk to your chambers.

“I shall take my supper alone tonight, should my brother come by to ask,” you tell Benjicot. “And I do believe it would be best if you do not mention our initial disliking for one another to anyone. The people here do so love to be blabbermouths.”

He nods and gallantly opens the wooden doors to your chambers.

“Goodnight Ser Benjicot,” you say and rush inside.

He glances along the hallway but it is empty, much like your room. He sticks his head in the tiniest bit. “I believe Benji shall suffice, your grace. Ser Benjicot is such a mouthful,” he says, quick and before he can change his mind again, almost stumbling over his own words as he does.

You smile. A good one, a real one this time.

taglist:

@dancingbaek

@knight-of-flowerss

@rebeccawinters

@jhepolie

@majoso12

#benjicot blackwood imagine #benjicot blackwood x reader #benjicot x reader #davos blackwood #hotd #hotd fanfic #asoiaf

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lucienarcheron · 5 months ago

Text

Spirit Meets the Bones XXVII

Genre: Angst/Romance/Drama Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse. Author's Note: I appreciate your patience darlings.I hope you enjoy :) here's a moodboard of the Vanserra brothers you'll meet today HEHE.

shoutout to @abruisedmuse for being part of this journey with me!!

Tagging: @climb-the-mountian / @vanserrass / @zenkindoflove / @animezinglife / @readthelastpaage / @teddyhoneybear / @positivewitch / @clockwork-ashes / @carnythian / @secret-third-thing / @runningwiththeoceans / @readychilledwine / @goldenmagnolias / @thedarkinmansfield / @mali22 / @maidr-00 / @electromagnetic-waves / @eastofatlanta / @moobell55 / @bibliophiliaxvignette / @devilsfoodcake22 / @weesablackbeak / @ladywhilemia / @alohaangels / @feysandfeels / @corcracrow / @thelovelymadone / @dawneternal / @gracie-rosee / @mage-neve / @queenoftheworld1998 / @wolvesnravens / @illyrianvalkyrie / @rainbowsnowflake

Find it all here.

Eris waited for a beat, his senses open and aware of any sounds, any shifts in the air.

His brother had been very specific with the directions to where he lived and if Eris missed a turn, he wouldn’t find it so easily and Izak would be very obnoxious about it. But Eris understood; being stuck in The Forest House with his father, he knew what it meant to have a place that was hard to find.

He now stood at the front of his brother’s house, hidden in a location only meant for a select few, in a neighborhood where privacy seemed to be prized; there was significant space between each house and it was a quiet area, scarcely a sound. Eris turned his head one last time, his power expanding to test for curious ears and eyes but again, found none.

No one would dare tail him but it never hurt to be extra cautious, especially when secrets were to be shared.

Taking a breath, he straightened and knocked sharply when he heard light footsteps come to the door. Given the sensitivity of the circumstances, he was surprised Izak let Helene be the one to open the door and quirked his brow as she stood before him.

His new sister-in-law was a pretty thing. She blinked at him with almond-shaped emerald green eyes, her expression careful as she watched him observing her. Her dark brown hair was to her shoulders, tousled lightly and she was dressed in a fitted lilac gown that gave him a slight idea of his brother’s taste in females. While he had known of the mysterious Helene for many years, Izak had guarded her like a dragon guarded its treasure trove so they’d never been allowed to meet. And Eris was very curious.

He became even more curious when his eyes zeroed in on the delicate chain at her neck, the letter I dangling from it.

“I didn’t take my brother for a romantic,” Eris said, his hands clasped behind his back. “Lovely necklace.”

“You’d be surprised.” Helene said carefully and the corner of Eris’s mouth curled up.

“No doubt. He’s managed to surprise me more than once already,” he replied then ran his tongue over his teeth. “Helene. I’d say it was a pleasure to meet you but the little stunt you and my brother pulled puts me in quite a tight spot.”

“I’d apologize but it wouldn’t be honest of me and I don’t think it wise to lie to my brother-in-law in our first meeting.” She replied and Eris had to fight back a laugh.

He had a feeling his wife would get along very well with her sister-in-law.

Thundering footsteps announced his brother’s arrival and soon Izak was calmly moving Helene behind him as he faced Eris.

“Eris.”

“Izak.”

Izak’s wide shoulders filled the doorway and like Finn, he had been born to hold a blade. Standing about an inch taller than Eris, Izak had a full beard, a two-block style with an undercut, and the top of his hair was messy enough that Eris could tell his brother had been running his hand through it in stress. His russet eyes matched their mother’s and Eris allowed him a moment to scan him, knowing the confusion on his face was at the difference in his appearance.

His brother’s hands fisted at his sides and he scowled. “You’re here.”

“I am.”

“You cut your hair.”

“I did.”

“You’ve never had your hair this short.”

“It wasn’t really my decision,” Eris said, his hands falling to his sides and Izak’s mouth tightened. “But my hairstyle isn’t what I’m here to talk about, is it.”

Izak flushed, his scowl deepening and Eris couldn’t help but smile pleasantly.

“I hear congratulations are in order, brother.”

A minute passed. Then another as Eris waited in the tense silence, Helene’s eyes darting nervously between the brothers.

Finally, a lifetime later, Izak sighed and rolled back his shoulders. “You get one,” he warned. “Make it count.”

Eris chuckled. “Trying to tough it out in front of your wife?” he taunted.

“Don’t worry about my wife.” Izak replied, widening his stance and gently pushing Helene back.

“Now where have I heard that before…” Eris mumbled, disturbed by the thought that he and his brother might have more in common than he cared to admit.

“I’ve heard that –”

And before said brother could finish the thought, Eris had curled his hand into a fist and slammed it into Izak’s face followed by a quick punch to his gut. A cry left Helene’s mouth but Eris kept his eyes on Izak, who staggered back a step at the impact of the blow and doubled over.

“Gods fucken dammit.” Izak spat, a hand covering his now bleeding nose, the other arm curling back to Helene’s figure still behind him. “Been holding on to that, have you? I said one.”

Eris fought back an eye roll. “You gave me such good news, I owe you at least two more.” he said and shifted his shoulders back, his back stinging at the movement.

“Oh fuck right off, Eris.”

Eris sighed rather dramatically. “I would if I could — I assure you, but you and I have matters to discuss,” he said. “Are your moronic brothers already here?”

“Yes.” Izak snapped, gingerly touching his face. “Emil is making things uncomfortable sitting in silence and Finn is eating all my fucken food.”

“You brought this upon yourself,” Eris said with a snort. “May I come in now?”

The two brothers watched each other and Eris could see Izak weighing the risks of inviting him inside; while they all had an understanding, it was different when someone they loved was involved.

It was different when Izak allowed Emil and Finn inside. They didn’t possess the same risks Eris did.

And Eris knew better than anyone the stress underlining Izak’s demeanor. He knew what it meant, to allow someone who could easily betray you into the heart of your loved ones’ space.

It didn’t make the hesitation in Izak’s expression hurt any less.

“No harm will come from me. You know that.”

“You just punched him twice right in front of me!” Helene snapped and Eris lifted a brow at his sister-in-law who shoved a cloth in her husband’s hand and faced Eris.

“We’re brothers. If you think a punch is harmful, you have no idea what’s in store for you and your husband should my father find out about you two.”

“Did your hands have to come with the warning?” she grumbled, even as color drained from her face and Eris would’ve felt guilty if he didn’t know better; it was better to be straightforward when it came to his father’s wrath.

“Helene, it’s fine,” Izak said, his hand pulling Helene back again and giving his brother a knowing look. “He’s my brother. This is how we say hello.”

Eris tried not to make the hard swallow too obvious at Izak’s words. It shouldn’t mean as much as it did but gods damn it, it did.

So instead, he quirked his brow at Helene who was still glaring at him, her mouth in a thin line. “Do you have something else to add, sister-in-law?”

He tried not to let his amusement show as she worked her jaw, clearly holding back the many things she wanted to say, and gods, her expression reminded him so much of his wife, he almost laughed.

“Please keep your hands off my husband in my home.” she finally said. “I don’t care if you’re a prince, I’ll kick you right out.”

“Noted, Mrs. Helene Vanserra.”

Eris couldn’t help his smirk when she flushed and Izak sighed, then stepped back. “Just come in. Let’s get this over with.”

Cautiously following his brother, Eris stepped onto the threshold of Izak’s home. He glanced around, cataloging every detail of their space as they walked and it shocked him to find photos adorning the walls, capturing moments frozen in time — cherished memories Izak and Helene had somehow cultivated in secret. How the hell had his brother managed this? All without anyone knowing a single thing.

His expression remained stoic as he watched his brother’s happiness bleed through and a sharp pain expanded through his chest. He was having difficulty describing the emotion he felt but that longing struck him again. That longing for a sense of normalcy he always seemed to crave. Iris made him feel like it was tangible, like he could grab onto it if he wanted to but watching the way his brother walked in front of him, his hand on Helene’s lower back made the pain in his chest tighten.

Eris had kept his distance to keep them all safe. How much had he missed out on the company and family he desperately desired by doing so?

As Eris followed Izak further inside, open dark wooden French doors greeted them, the living space coming into view and he found his other brothers already seated on opposite ends of the room.

A polished wooden table stood at the center of the room, adorned with intricate carvings and scattered trinkets— a chess board with pieces toppled over and a painting lay drying. While Eris’s taste had always leaned towards elegant and timeless, much to his surprise, his brutish brother leaned towards…cozy.

Izak had been holding out far longer than Eris had anticipated, this place had been lived in. A house that was truly a home. A safe space away from the parasite that was their father.

The green monster of jealousy reared its ugly head and Eris had to squash it down hard. He had pushed them out for their own benefit. He had no right to be jealous.

“You’ve certainly been living comfortably.” Eris finally spoke, his hands clasped behind his back.

Izak worked his jaw, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides, his eyes flickering to Helene by his side then back to Eris. “We’ve made it work.”

Eris forced himself to take a quiet breath, his thumb tapping against his hand and slowly, he turned in place, taking in more of the space. The sheer life that was in this room. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it…was he allowed to at least envy his brother’s ability to have a safe place like this a little bit? He assumed so. Was he relieved that at least one of them had managed to find some happiness somewhere else? Yes. Did it still make him feel like his whole chest was on fire and he wanted to burn the city down? Gods yes.

He turned to face his other two brothers and both Emil and Finn seemed to straighten. Eris and Finn were in each other’s orbit often enough but he hadn’t seen Emil in about a month since their last check-in.

He had always been the quietest of his brothers. Serious, content in his own solitude, and of his brothers, the most educated despite his father’s objections. Emil was also deadly with an arrow. He could ruin a person with words alone so if he had to resort to pulling out an arrow, the person was truly fucked and Emil was not known as someone who holds back; he’d sink that arrow into a victim with his bare hands. His brother was Eris’s eyes and ears on the ground; his network was almost as impressive as Eris’s. Almost.

“Emil.”

“Eris.”

His long hair was tied back neatly today, wearing the glasses he reserved for private settings only, the Courtier in him sitting calmly, hands resting in his lap, and ready to take in all the information he could.

Eris jerked his chin towards Emil. “I like your new glasses.”

“Thank you. You cut your hair.”

“Courtesy of our father.” He replied and Emil’s expression darkened slightly.

“I didn’t know our sperm donor had an interest in becoming a barber.”

The corner of Eris’s mouth ticked up. “It must’ve bloomed recently,” he said. “He used a new method with a whip. All the rage lately.”

Emil’s expression shuttered and before it could change into what he knew would be concern, Eris turned to Finn who had been in the middle of eating an apple.

“Finn. Still chomping away like a hyena, I see,” he said and Finn halfheartedly flipped him off. “You should consider saving some food for the expecting female in the family.”

The energy in the room tensed immediately at the elephant in the room and Eris’s eyes landed back on his sister-in-law. “I’d say welcome to the family but honestly, it’s a tough crowd.”

Helene straightened next to Izak and shared a glance with her husband. “I have brothers. I can imagine.”

Eris chuckled darkly. “No. No, you can’t.” he said, his hands fisting behind his back and the room descended into silence.

And the more Eris watched her, the more difficult he knew this conversation was going to be. Rather than see her as a threat, Eris could see an anchor. He saw the way his brother fidgeted next to her, trying not to touch or hide her. He saw how Helene watched him and despite knowing they all must smell the fear on her, she was determined to stand her ground in front of them. He had to respect her for it even when he wanted to wring her neck.

He blamed Iris. It was her fault he felt guilty being mean.

His sister-in-law watched him carefully for a heartbeat then swallowed. “I’m…going to get everyone a drink.” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

They all watched her with barely contained curiosity until she disappeared, then Eris turned back to Izak and said, “She seems almost as demure as my wife.”

Izak snorted. “I don’t think anyone that gets involved with us would be anything close to demure.”

“I like the quiet ones.” Finn said with a small grin.

“We know.” Eris, Emil, and Izak said in unison and Finn scowled.

“Oh, fuck off.”

A light chuckle escaped his brothers and Eris was glad for it because he didn’t know if he had it in him to keep things light, to not explode.

Eris eyed the room again before his gaze settled on Izak. For all the room his brother usually took up, he couldn’t help but see how young he actually seemed. Wild in his actions. Reckless with his decisions.

But Eris wasn’t sure how to start. Did he tear his brother a new one and scare his new sister-in-law into tears? Did he crush whatever little joy they had found? If he wrapped his hands around both their throats and wiped them out here, would it be considered a mercy compared to what his father would have in store for them?

Eris watched his brother’s hands fist as Izak’s gaze flickered towards the soft noise coming from the kitchen and he couldn’t help but see just how similar their situations were. His gaze shifted to his other brothers and he thought about how Finn hid his affections for Theo out of necessity — so nothing happened to the soft-spoken Blacksmith. He thought about Emil’s surface-level indifference to relationships when he knew for a fact that there was a female he paid just a little too much attention to that no one was ever allowed to bring up.

Most importantly, he thought of his mate waiting for him when he returned. How stressed he was to be away from her. How anxious he was to make sure she was alright.

With everything that had happened to him since he met Iris and all that had changed in his family’s dynamic since then, it felt like a sign that better things should be coming.

The cynical part of him also considered how he and his brothers were getting a taste of something good before it got viciously ripped away and it all ended in blood.

“Whatever you have to say to me, spit it out already.” Izak said gruffly.

“I’m trying to figure out when you lost your sense of judgment,” Eris said. “You’re the General of one of my armies and yet…”

“He was already deformed as a child. Stupid decisions aren’t that out of character for him.” Emil quipped.

“This is why we’ve always picked on you, Zakkie. We knew you’d do something disappointing at some point.”

Izak scowled, then pointed at Eris first. “Fuck off.” He then pointed at Emil. “Fuck you.” And lastly pointed at Finn. “Go fuck yourself.”

“All those fucks and you couldn’t have bothered to pull out at the right moment to save yourself all the trouble coming your way,” Finn said with a snort and Emil chuckled when Izak flipped them both off again before turning back to Eris.

“Say what you have to say. I know that look on your face and I’d rather Helene didn’t have to hear whatever it is.” Izak said and Eris’s eyes narrowed.

He stared Izak down, suddenly wishing very badly, he had brought Iris with him. He was almost too embarrassed to admit to himself but he was getting used to having her as his support system. He wondered what she’d think if she was here and how she’d react, especially when he opened his mouth and said, “I’m trying to consider whether it would be a mercy or not if I just killed you both here.”

Silence filled the room, the tension so thick, Eris felt it like a noose around his neck. Izak stared at him, his expression shifting from shock to anger to distress and finally settling on grim acceptance.

“I understand you’re angry about this but don’t fucken threaten my wife.” Izak snarled.

“I am not threatening your wife. I am sharing my thoughts. We both know I wouldn’t make you suffer.” He said calmly. “I would snuff you both out now and it would be quick and painless. Father would not do you the honor.”

Izak worked his jaw, his expression tight and he licked his lips before speaking again, “What happened has happened, Eris. I’m not going to let him ruin anything else for me.”

“Oh, you think he’s going to just ‘ruin’ it for you.” Eris said lightly. “Give you a little slap on the wrist and have you walk on your merry way?”

Izak scowled. “Don’t speak to me that way. I know the risks.”

“Do you?” Eris said and his tone dropped. “Does your wife know the risks of being involved with you?”

“I don’t appreciate that fucken tone, Eris.”

“And I don’t appreciate you and your foolish wife not keeping your feelings to yourself so you’re not viciously murdered by our father.” he snapped, waving a hand. “Did you think I came here to pick out baby names with you? Tell me, Izak, how did you envision this conversation going?”

“I’m not a fucken child, Eris. We have a plan.”

“Oh? Please, enlighten me on how this plan is going to work.”

“I’m not going to tell you shit if you keep talking to me like I’m an idiot.”

“You are the biggest idiot I know at the moment.”

“Fuck you, Eris. I didn’t ask for you to come here and patronize me.”

Eris chuckled drily. “You didn’t ask me to come here at all though, did you? If it was up to you, this would be kept from me and I bet it would’ve looked wonderful for you if I had found out while I was with your father.” Eris snarled, taking a step towards his brother, his eyes aflame. “Do not mistake my calm demeanor as anything other than a very tight leash I hold myself to. I am simmering with rage at the fucken stupidity of the two of you.”

Izak flushed deeply and opened his mouth but Eris pointed one threatening finger. “You better start talking and saying the right things because if you’d rather sit here and listen to us try to plan a way to keep Helene from getting strung up at the gates of the Forest House as an example of what happens when you do things without the High Lord’s consent, by all means, keep us in the dark, brother. We’d love your input on which dress you’d like her to be wearing when Beron carves out her uterus to kill your fetus while you watch because you two dared to find a moment of happiness. And then of course, once Father turns his sights on you, if Helene’s lucky, she’ll already be dead not to witness it.”

A crash sounded behind them and they all whirled to Helene frozen in the doorway, the tray of drinks in pieces on the floor. She stood frozen, her expression stricken and Eris had to fight hard not to set the place on fire. He worked his jaw, breathing deeply through his nose then jerked his chin at his brother.

“Emil.” Eris muttered and without saying a word, his brother stood, giving Helene a tight smile, walked around her, and started to clean the glass.

“Izak told me I should expect the worst,” she whispered, her hands dropping to her sides. “But I don’t understand w-why he would react so badly.” Helene swallowed, blinking rapidly. “My father is a commander of one of his armies. I come from a good family. We’ve never done anything to step out of line and have always supported the High Lord even when it’s not right.”

“Your mistake is you are assuming the High Lord is rational, Helene,” Eris said calmly. “But he will do what he likes because he can, especially when secrets come out. He is very sensitive to being made a fool.”

“We’ll be careful. I’ll stay in hiding and move out to another territory when the baby comes. There’s no reason for him to find out.”

Eris blinked then blinked again and turned to his brother. “Is that your plan?”

“We got married a few days ago, Eris.” Izak said flatly. “And only found out a few days before that about the baby. Sorry I couldn’t scheme a better plan than that when I’m trying to be happy.”

“I see,” Eris replied. “So not only are you an idiot, you think you have time to be one. Did you forget what family you came from? Are you being deliberately delusional?”

“I’m doing my fucken best, asshole.” Izak snapped. “You all are coming at my neck acting like I want to have my life and my wife’s life threatened. As if I don’t know the kind of shit that our father is going to pull. I know.”

“Well, you sure as fuck don’t act like it. With your cozy little cabin, and your pictures, and your paintings – all this evidence that anyone could share with the High Lord.” Eris sneered. “You sure got comfortable enough that now you have a child in the picture.”

“How can you stand here knowing what you know about us and think we want any of this to happen? As if we are trying to cause this chaos to everyone.” Helene said and Eris grimaced at the crack in her voice. “What kind of a brother says these kinds of things?”

Eris gave a dry laugh then his expression hardened. “And how could you get involved with my brother knowing what you know about our family and the likelihood of your demise should our father find out about you?”

Helene blanched but Eris didn’t have much room for sympathy. His nerves were already frayed as it was and while he respected his brother’s decision to fuck up his life by putting himself and his wife in danger in defiance of their father, Eris had very little patience for people arguing with him. He stared down Izak for a fleeting moment, then his gaze returned to his sister-in-law. “I’m the kind of brother that is trying his very hardest not to have history repeat itself with you here,” he said, his tone ice cold. “The kind of brother that has to watch time and time again everything around him going up in flames because we are in the kind of environment where you’re not allowed to breathe much less think for yourself.”

He took a step closer to his brother and sister-in-law and Eris tried with everything he had to keep his anger leashed. “The kind of brother who has had to push everyone out and as far away from The Forest House as possible so maybe the High Lord won’t give you a lashing because he didn’t like the way you stood. So maybe he won’t shove you off your moving horse because in his eyes you were riding like a bitch that needs to get fucked and he can’t have a son that does that. So maybe he doesn’t send you flying off the dinner table because you dared to pass your mother a plate instead of forcing her to get up and crawl her way to get it herself.” he fumed. “You’re new to the family so I’ll excuse your misunderstanding of this situation thinking you have a say in much or I want your unsolicited opinions. I’m sure this is a stressful time for you with getting married and being pregnant but my brother must not have truly warned you about the consequences of your little surprise because I assure you, whatever I may or may not say or do, will be heaven compared to what is coming.”

“That is horrible.” she whispered and Eris fought an eye roll.

Izak glared at his brother despite taking a step back, his expression a mix of anger and regret. “I understand you’re angry and I’m sorry I caused this but I don’t appreciate you speaking to my wife in that tone, Eris.”

“And I don’t fucken care. We’ve all witnessed this before so my tone should be the least of your worries,” he said and tension returned in full force, the room heating drastically. “I have to dance around my father on a daily basis so he leaves my own wife alone because I happen to not mind her presence. He tied me to a flogging pole three days ago and whipped me within an inch of my life because I happened to have defended my wife. I can’t even let myself —” Eris cut himself off, his fists clenching tightly. “Horrible is an understatement. Horrible is a joke. So forgive me if I am trying to save you from what is to come.”

Eris felt his brothers’ shock at his statement shift through the room as Helene’s hands flew to her mouth. He forced himself to breathe and casually ran a hand through his hair. This conversation had already gone off the rails and he hated that the first impression his sister-in-law had of him was a terrible one. It made Eris scowl, thinking of his wife and how she’d only learned the true dynamic between his family a few nights ago and what that conversation had been like. His eyes flickered to the photos of Izak and Helene around the room and he couldn’t help but think with how long they’ve been together, they should’ve known better.

“You stand there asking me what kind of a brother I am when I have stood between them and him in every moment that I could,” he added quietly. “I am the kind of brother that has clawed my way to where I am and kept them all at a safe distance so he won’t touch them. So he can’t scar them as much as he’s scarred me and our mother and I still can’t protect everyone the way I want to. It is because of me that Izak had a chance to get out and not be infested with the poison that is our father’s cruelty. That he stands there somewhat whole despite the shit we’ve seen and you found a partner in him.” Eris ran his tongue over his teeth and forced himself to take a breath. “What has happened can’t be helped and this isn’t how I would’ve preferred this initial meeting between us to go but do not comment on what you do not know. I have low tolerance for it and you will not like how I respond to you.”

A heavy silence covered the room and Eris watched as Helene swallowed, her bottom lip trembling and the sound of her sniffle that followed made Eris grimace, the self-loathing in him fighting its way to the surface. He avoided looking at her until he felt her take a step towards him and saw the grim determination on her face that seemed to mirror her husband’s.

“So what will you have us do then?” she finally asked. “How do I avoid getting hung from the gates?”

Before he could open his mouth again, Izak’s hand slid to his wife’s, and giving his brother a warning look, he said, “Enough. We need a minute. Don’t fucken touch anything.”

No one said a word as the two left the room and he let a moment of silence pass before he rubbed a hand over his face and sighed quietly.

“Eris.”

He turned his head and found both Finn and Emil sharing an expression of solemnity he wasn’t used to from them.

“What.”

“What can we do?” Finn asked quietly.

And suddenly he was very, very tired. This was why he hated talking. It led to feelings and truths and sharing things he’d rather not share.

“Don’t get married in secret or get anyone pregnant and you’ll be off to a great start.” Eris mumbled. “Don’t even think about saying anything sentimental. I’ll deck you both in the face.”

The corner of Emil’s mouth lifted as Eris watched him. “You have such a way with words.”

“I have a way with my fists too.”

“I told you this the other day and I’ll say it again, but I’m sorry.” Finn said. “We don’t say it enough but we are and we know the kind of crazy shit you’ve had to deal with and do. So.”

The urge to vomit returned at full force and Eris scowled so deeply, he wondered if his face would be permanently set that way. “What did I just say about getting sentimental.”

“Fuck off, I’m trying to say something nice.”

“Well, I don’t want to hear it. Go back to saying the stupid things you usually do.”

“What if I told you I actually like you as a person.”

“I will slice you where you stand.”

“Damn. What if I went in for a hug?”

“Finn, I swear to the gods if you don’t shut the fuck up –”

“It pains me to say this, but Finn is right.” Emil interrupted and fought back a smile as Eris almost groaned. “We don’t say it enough. Maybe it’s time we start to and not be so disgusted by it.”

Eris sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face again. Was his wife somehow infesting them all to be like this? Was the disease of feelings she spread over him contagious and now his brothers had caught it or something?

“It’s not necessary.”

“We think it is.” Emil simply said.

“Oh, you three are a collective now?” Eris said with a snort despite the tips of his ears heating. “Having drinks behind my back while discussing me?”

“We’d invite you but you seem to be glued to your wife’s side since you got married.” Emil replied with a small smile and Eris rolled his eyes.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean.”

“Nothing. We’re happy you seem to like her considering she was forced on you.”

“Oh, he more than likes her,” Finn said with a smirk. “He let her touch him in front of me.”

“Did he now?”

“He did.”

“Oh, he really does like her.”

“I would say he even lo–”

“I will strangle you both if you don’t stop right this moment.” Eris snapped and he truly did want to snap both their necks as they smirked at him. Since when did they tag team on him? And tease him? Was he getting soft enough that they just did this?

He scowled deeply. This was all Iris’s fault. She would just love this.

“Speaking of Iris.” Finn started with a smirk.

“Finn.” Eris warned.

“Now that you’ve traumatized Helene,” his brother continued, ignoring Eris completely. “How much is Iris going to just love how rude you were to our new sister-in-law?”

Eris narrowed his eyes on his brother. “What did I say to you about mentioning my wife?”

Finn smiled. “I asked an innocent question.”

“Nothing about you is ever innocent,” Eris muttered and turned to Emil. “It’s not like I did it on purpose. Helene happened to walk in at the wrong moment.”

“I think it went better than expected. She barely started crying.” Emil said calmly, settling in his seat once more. “At least you didn’t have to witness Finn asking her inappropriate questions and Izak almost ripping his face off before you arrived.”

“So alongside eating all her food, you’re making her uncomfortable and have the audacity to worry about me being rude?”

“You literally just told her how father dearest is going to hang her from our gates! That is not worse than me asking her if Izak was a disappointing lay or not.” Finn said with a snort and Eris rolled his eyes hard enough to see the back of his head. “I wanted to know if she’s staying with him out of pity or if he’s blackmailing her.”

“Clearly, they are in love.” Emil said and chuckled at Finn’s immediate gag and Eris’s snort. “Love shall conquer all, I suppose.”

“I’m sure our father’s weapon of choice won’t stand a chance against feelings,” Eris replied and it was Finn’s turn to snort. “His wrath will be defeated by confessions of love and the High Lord won’t murder us in slow and painful ways.”

“It concerns me how apathetic we all are to the attempted murder by our father,” Emil mused. “We find humor in things at the most inappropriate times.”

Eris waved a hand. “We’ve dealt with this a long time. We’re lucky to feel anything at all at this point.” he said, focusing on Emil. “Until the newlyweds return, any new information I need to know?”

His brother crossed one leg over the other. “There’s a rumor going around that I’m planning a coup against you so I can get into Father’s good graces and take your place,” he said calmly. “I plan to try assassinating you in the next week.”

Eris snorted as Finn laughed. “Good to know,” he replied. “Try not to overpower me too easily so I can die with some dignity.”

“As you wish, brother,” Emil said, the corner of his mouth curling up for a moment before his expression turned serious. “Finn let me know about your situation with your father-in-law. I’m assuming your new look has something to do with that.”

Eris’s fists clenched. “Father didn’t appreciate that I didn’t allow that asshole to touch my wife and get away with it. I managed.” he said and paused for a moment before adding in a quieter tone, “I assume you know about Mother.”

Emil nodded grimly as Finn sat up in his seat angrily. “She hasn’t allowed me to see her yet.”

“He put his hands on her again?” Finn said, his eyes flashing.

“She came to my defense so of course he did,” Eris muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But I saw her before I came. She’s what I’m here to talk about as well.”

Izak’s thundering footsteps announced his return and they turned to find his expression dark. He closed the door to the room and Eris felt a shield go up alongside his own.

“I will only say this one time and one time only,” Izak began. “If you ever speak to my wife like that again, I will rip your fucken throat out. That warning goes to all of you.”

Eris faced his brother, his eyes narrowing. He couldn’t exactly fault Izak for his response but again, hearing the words that sounded so similar to his own when talking about Iris disturbed him.

“You realize the only reason I let her speak to me that way is because of you, right? Don’t push your luck with me.” Eris said and a muscle feathered in Izak’s jaw as they gazed at each other. “I don’t love how this conversation went and I would’ve rather not had it happen this way. But your wife should know better. You should definitely know better.”

“Is that what you call an apology?”

“I don’t apologize for speaking the truth, Izak.”

“You didn’t have to fucken say it to her like that!” his brother finally snapped. “I know what she said was uncalled for but we’re already stressed enough and she’s hardly keeping anything in her stomach as it is. I know we should’ve done this differently and I know we should’ve been more careful but it is what it is now. I can’t change it and I don’t want to. I got sick of waiting to marry the only person I’ve ever wanted as my wife. I don’t regret anything.”

Eris watched his brother’s expression as he stood there, angry and breathing hard. Underneath it all, he saw the stress. He felt his anxiety.

“You have to know how reckless this is,” Eris said quietly and waved a hand around the room. “You two aren’t even trying to hide it. You have photographs all over the place. This has been going on for years.”

“So?”

“Don’t be a fucken idiot, Izak.” Eris snapped. “It’s bad enough you married her and she’s with child. You know he will have someone lined up for you just like he has someone lined up for each of your brothers. How well do you think he’ll take it that you’ve disregarded that and have been happy with someone he won’t approve of for years while lying to him? ”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Izak snarled. “Do you think that I’m not aware that the only thing in my life I give a shit about is at risk? That the only person who understands me and makes me feel like I’m not a thing – like I’m not just a piece of shit that helped murder his brother’s lover and lets his mother be abused — do you think I don’t know what I’ve signed her up for? Do you think I’m worth this kind of fear?”

Eris tried not to flinch at the words but the room heated immediately as the brothers stared at each other. He had to clench his fists hard to keep the shaking at bay, to not let his brothers see exactly how these words impacted him. How it mirrored his own emotions.

“You know our people don’t all think that about us.” Finn said quietly. “They know the truth.”

“Maybe.” Izak said with a shrug. “But enough don’t and we can’t blame them. Her parents were against it for so long because they knew what would happen to us if our father found out but what else am I supposed to do? Just keep kneeling over for him? So he keeps taking away from my life like he’s doing to all of us?”

“Izak,” Emil began, his tone placating. “We know –”

“How?” Eris asked, cutting his brother off and waving a hand around the room. “We knew about your interest in Helene but how have you gotten away with all this?”

Izak ran a hand over his beard and looked around the room, his expression tight. It took him a moment before he quietly began, “When you gave me this territory and told me to shape it up, thinking about anything beyond making it through each day was not on my mind. I came here because what happened with Jesminda could not happen again and I had no way to get that off my hands.” He swallowed. “I still think about that day but the other assholes are dead so they don’t have to worry about it. It’s why I have a hard time being around Lucien even if he’s moved on and I’ve apologized. I still think about his fucken face watching it happen. So meeting my wife was never on the table. I focused on getting to know the people of this place and spending time with them. They didn’t know what to make of me. They certainly didn’t trust me and I didn’t want to be like him, beating people into submission.”

Eris kept quiet as his brother swallowed hard again and ran his hand through his hair. “I met her accidentally. She was helping her father organize the training grounds and…I had never been so attracted to someone in my life.” he continued softly. “She made me feel like I’m a person. A person worth time and effort and not just some wild dog his father sics on others. The people of this territory love Helene and her family. They like me. They believe in me.” His gaze hardened. “But they also know what happens to people the High Lord no longer favors. And make no mistake, everyone here gave me so much fucken grief before I could even court her. I had to prove I was worthy of her and worthy of protecting her and every single day, I know I’m nowhere near that. But these people…they know what we have is real. They know I will go down swinging for her and them. So they will watch over us and take care of us.” Izak waved his hand around the room. “We have this because despite what Father believes, this place is not some forgotten land the High Lord ignores. It’s a community and we protect our own.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me all of this?” Eris asked. “You know I would’ve helped you prepare for it better. I would’ve helped you marry her without the secrecy.”

“Because I’m fucken terrified, Eris.” Izak snapped. “I never thought I was a family man. You think I ever thought about having children? With the way we live our lives? When we all know Father is going to decide who we marry whether we like it or not? You think I wanted to put Helene through this shit?” He ran a hand through his hair and tugged, his expression anxious as he confessed quietly, “When she told me she was pregnant I wanted her to get rid of the baby.”

The room fell silent as Izak took a breath and Eris had the feeling his brother was two seconds away from collapsing. “All I ever wanted was Helene and a life with her, however way we could manage it. A baby was never on the table. We have been so careful for years and I knew there was no going back if we kept this baby. That I could lose her in the process and I didn’t want to risk it. I know what he’d do if he found out. I know how he’d react and I am not worth having her die because of me.” he said, his voice cracking at the last word. “But she refused. She said it was a gift. This baby was a gift and we all know how hard conceiving is. So I did what I’ve wanted to do since I met her and proposed. She said yes and now here we are.”

“Here we are.” Eris repeated and couldn’t bring himself to say more. He thought back to Iris coming into his life and what events have taken place since then. How much he’s had to push back on his father and what it’s been costing him. And yet…he had something he looked forward to each day because of it. He had a purpose that extended past getting his mother out and killing his Father. A purpose that was just about him.

Eris looked at his brother and saw a mirror. Izak had a life he was willing to die protecting. Despite everything they had dealt with, he had found his someone. He had found hands that didn’t hurt. Hands that soothed.

“You’re scared shitless.” he finally said softly.

“I’m constantly on the verge of vomiting.”

“Gods, we really are related.”

A chorus of chuckles passed between the brothers and then Eris sighed for what felt like the millionth time today. There were many pieces at play but they all needed to see the stakes. He turned his head towards Finn and Emil.

“Cards on the table?”

His brothers straightened, glancing at each other and then at Izak.

“Cards on the table.” Emil said.

“You both have someone you care for. Do they have an out?” Eris asked. “And can they get out soon?”

“How soon are we talking?” Finn asked.

“Soon. Three weeks to stagger their departure.” Eris said and his brothers all shared a glance of confusion.

“Why three?” Emil asked.

“I’ll explain that in a moment,” Eris said and raised a brow at Emil. “Does she have an out?”

And Eris couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Emil get flustered. His brother shifted in his seat and avoided everyone’s gaze. “Yes. She has family in Dawn.”

“Good. Send her there.” Eris jerked his chin to Finn. “And you? Does he have an out?”

Finn scowled. “He’s a well-known blacksmith. He can’t just up and leave.”

“He’s going to have to. Things are going to get ugly.”

“How ugly are we talking?” Izak asked with raised brows.

“Very.” Eris replied. “You know we’ll need to get Helene out of here. Taking cover within the Autumn Court will not be enough. He can always reach her here.”

“I don’t have ties to get her out without it being suspicious,” Izak replied, running a hand through his hair. “My ties are all within this court.”

“I have someone that can help with that.” Eris said and he couldn’t have timed it better himself when a sharp knock sounded at the door.

“Who the fuck is that?” Izak demanded. “I never said you could give my address to others.”

“I know.” Eris said. “But I need you to trust me and trust that I know this person will bring you no harm.”

Izak scowled, sharing a glance with Emil and Finn before stalking towards the seating room door and yanking it open. “You better be right or ugly is going to come at you a lot faster than you think.”

“I’ll take my chances.” Eris said with an eye roll and waited a heartbeat for Izak to reach the door, his eyes following his brother’s movement as he yanked his front door open and froze.

Because standing at the door was none other than the Heir of the Day Court and youngest of the Vanserra brothers. Lucien had joined the fray.

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #eris vanserra fanfic #acotar fanfiction #eris x oc #smtb chapters #gfics #vanserra brothers #keeping up with the vanserras if you will lol #autumn court #if you wish to be tagged pls let me know!#I don’t want to tag people who are no longer interested so feel free to (kindly lol) let me know :)

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temporalhiccup · 2 months ago

Note

How was the paper?

aaaaaaaaaaaaa thanks for asking! (for folks who don't know, stationary drama is afoot and folks are freaking out over bad paper they paid a lot of money for) I did a test on my hobonichi cousin A5 2025...there was no feathering which I was most worried about (feathering just kills the enjoyment of fountain pen writing and most cheaper planners/paper feather)

thankfully it looks like no feathering is happening and it seemed like most of the ink properties were coming through. notably the sailor ink amamoyoi (the first one from the top) has its lovely dark faded green shifting into pink properties, and the lamy dark lilac (second ink) seemed to have its green sheen intact (hard to take a picture that captures that green sheen in particular). After a few days though (I kept looking at the new page and comparing it to my current Cousin 2024 paper) I was worried about the third and fourth inks...none of their sheen seemed to be coming through. But was I writing too quickly because I was stressed/hopeful?? So the ink couldn't pool and sheen like it normally does??

Sooooo before answering this ask I went ahead and skipped ahead to like a May page and tried it again, and forced myself to write slower.

Once again, hard to get pictures to really show the sheen properly but the night time soda (third ink) and lady emerald (fourth ink) did have their purple and red sheen come through properly (thank gawd).

it's really too bad about the sanzen tomoe river paper being so inconsistent. I still don't have any other notebook/planner that seems to come close to highlighting fountain ink properties as well, even if they purport to use the same source of paper. It must be something about how hobonichi manufactures and treats the paper for the magic to happen, I suppose. Still, if this inconsistency keeps up it's just too stressful to spend this much money and not know what you're going to get. I'll probably switch to something else for 2026, and I won't be picking up anymore hobonichi notebooks/planners either. (please imagine that I'm saying the lasts two paragraphs like a Victorian gentlemen, discussing these matters of great importance with my fellows at one of those gentlemen clubs full of cigarette smoke, I've got a forlorn look on my face and I'm letting out huffs and sighs every few words as I look off at the distance, distracting myself from my important woes with another beautiful man's visage)

#hobonichi drama #hobonichi paper #planner #stationary #fountain pen ink #i cannot express how upset i was about this #money is so tight that a hobonichi planner is such an indulgence #i can only barely justify it because it helps with both my work and mental health lol

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lizaluvsthis · 10 months ago

Text

The Girl in Fatal Lavanders

Fanfic Written and Illustrated by @lizaluvsthis

Idea of creation by @itsajjanea

First (Prologue)

Author's note: I'd like to thank @itsajjanea for drawing three that describes out the song Heathers by Conan Gray (I loved that song before and still do) the song gave so many feels <3

For now- onto the fanfic!

Summary: SMG4 has found someone new, much to Three's dismay. He couldn't help it but feel like something is wrong with his new "Girlfriend" and that there is something more going on with her than just being all 'kind' and 'polite' to people, especially with SMG4.

will SMG4 still end up being inlove with the Lavender Girl? or does he end up with Three's open heart

Tags: Enemies to Friends, Sun and Moon, angst, betrayal, catching feelings, comfort, hurt/comfort, drama, enemies to lovers, enemy, fluff, oblivious, slowburn, fruityass, gayness

Relationships:

SMG4/SMG3

Mario & Meggy Spletzer

Meggy & SMG3

SMG4 & Original Character

PuzzleVision(TvAdware) & Original Character

SMG3 & Mario

SMG4 & Mario

Beginning Chapter - 1 New Person, 1 New Goal

An announcement breaks out from the castle of SMG4's as he calls everyone. "The hell did you bring us here for?" Bob angrily asked, ruining his dating plans with another chick.

"Whatever it is, I don't care." Three calmly said sitting peacefully on the couch waiting for SMG4 to say something. "Prepare yourself to be blinded by this but..."

"But first- promise you guys won't laugh..." SMG4 held back in reassurance from his crew's support. Boopkins being the bright one of the team, spoke.

"Awe don't worry SMG4! We won't laugh or judge you!" SMG4 gave Boopkins a weak smile and proceeded, taking a deep breath.

"I know it has been a few weeks now since I've gone out for a few or most days, I never bothered to check the castle much because I went away. Now that I'm back again... I wanted to surprise you all with something..."

"Ohhhhh is it spaghetti-os?" Mario cheered in excitement, but with a disapproving look on four's expression, he wasn't talking about that. "No, but it's something else... I uh- I've met someone new"

Four gave a nervous chuckle at the end. The whole crew felt silent as they all began to laugh. SMG4 felt embarrassed and humiliated himself, grunting and blushing down. Mario spoke up.

"Are you sure you're not high or anything S-M-G-4 ? Or haven't you gotten enough B-tches from the past few years you've attempted dating a girl? Oh no wait- you don't have any!" This caused the whole crew to laugh even more, except for Boopkins and Meggy.

"C'mon, guys! At Least Four is trying his best here- say- SMG4, we haven't met this person yet- what's their name?" SMG4 looked at Meggy bringing his smile up again.

"This is a surprise everyone- but... here she is!" A door opens from the entrance, with a first footstep from the opening. Is seen with purple scandals following on with a pair of white socks exceeding up to the leg reach.

Slow opening, the person dressed in dark magenta overalls. With the length of the pants put a match near the sock's leg reach. With cute navy blue buttons, and lilac color of cloth from their shirt.

Up to the face with a smile, oddly enough with a non-patterned color of red as the hat's signature. Almost near to Mario's similar color but gave off soft and dark.

The symbol from the top spots out a "#" Then the hair gave out a brunette color, and the excess ends to the shoulder length gave out curls.

Oddly enough, Lavender colored eyes are rare to have. And a mole near the corner of the left cheek.

She gently closed the door, seeing from her second hand, it was a phone with the color of cyan. "Hello there everyone! Wow! I'm super excited to meet you all!" Everyone went silent.

"Guys, meet my new girlfriend..." SMG4 let out his hand extending to the brunette. She gladly accepted the handhold, getting pulled slowly by SMG4s. She looked at everyone who still smiled, side-hugging SMG4 with his hand touching her back.

"Haha- very funny SMG4-" SMG3 crossed both of his arms, there is no way SMG4 could pull out someone with the likes of HER... (plus- she looks kinda mid...) SMG3 thought to himself squinting his eyes at Four's new 'Girlfriend's' face.

"Are you brain damaged?" Three pulled out his sarcasm to see how his 'girlfriend' would react to that and how she'd deal with it. Unfortunately for three, however, She was pretty aggressive for action so he brought back what he said.

"Aren't you emotionally unstable?" The crew went on with the hums of "oohs" as Four quieted them down pushing three out of the way. "Hey- slow down- we don't want to settle up fights here, right "Three"?"

SMG4 tilts his head, side-eyeing at Three. He just wished that the man wouldn't do anything stupid. "Right." Angered by the purple and black.

"Anyways- six, you have the microphone" SMG4 lets go of her to make the brunette feel welcomed and comfortable. "Hello everyone! My name is T-A-G-6, I'm just a lovely and polite girl who loves to play video games and helps out with editing videos! I do find memes funny too besides with this cutie"

Six looked at Four with a smirk and winked at him, four giggled like a blushing boy from high school. This made Three's brows change out with a more angered expression giving her the looks.

"My name stands for 'Totally-Average-Girl' then there's six! You can call me Tag or Six if you prefer it that-" SMG3 decides to break in again, approaching her confidently smiling.

For three who wanted to show her who's boss at being close with SMG4.

"how about bombers? You sound like a horse and you play like a hooker tiny wrink-"

TAG6 took a step back summoning a big solid grey hammer, whaming Three's chin then up to the roof where he gets thrown out to the space leaving him screaming.

"So- any questions?" Her left eye twitched from Three's sudden call from her. (Why he... better get a taste of his own medicine! ) Six pouted her mouth just putting a thought about Three's immediate reaction.

"Ooh! Ooh! How did you two meet?" Tari asked intrigued with TAG6's special skill and appearance. "Funny to answer that but- we met online" SMG4 walked in looking back at Tag's lavender eyes.

Four and Tag explained to the crew how they met while on a public server from multimedia works. Four noticed Tag has the same interest as him, and a few more days of him taking her on dates.

The two finally made it official. "Wait wait! Did you both kiss?" Saiko looked at the two with an amused look when Four and Tag struck eye contact and then back to her. "Umm- no we- haven't yet... we're taking this whole thing- slow..."

TAG6 made a sheepish grin and with Four scratching his back, "We uh- we're not there yet..." SMG4 looked down sadly but forced a smile just for TAG6 to not worry her.

"But- that's okay! We can- do that if... we're both ready..." simply patting Four's back gaining comfort from her.

The crew showered her with questions and conversations, as Meggy left in hopes of finding where SMG3 had gone right after TAG6 blew him off the roof.

"SMG3? Are you here?" She said following three foot tracks from the mud. "SMG3!" Meggy shouted his name to be left with faint sobs near the bush.

Meggy quietly sneaks in, to see SMG3 crying silently hugging both of his knees. "What am I gonna do now? Four has a girlfriend and he didn't even tell me... I don't even know WHY this bothers me so much-"

Meggy felt bad at Three, he didn't deserve any of this. She began to back away but snapped a twig from under, getting Three's attention as he looked at the sound.

"Squid. What are you doing here...? Came to make fun of me?" SMG3 wiped out his tears after seeing Meggy, getting up properly from the ground.

"I didn't mean to barge in like that, I saw you crying and... well- sorry..." Meggy held her left elbow in a single shell of comfort.

Three sighed, but seeing him not pushing or telling the orange squid to go away. She continued. "He means so much to you if that's what I would've guessed"

Meggy stood next to him, looking down at the ground. "Ever since before and after three, I know. I saw how you acted... you know, you can't keep your feelings in there for too long"

“I can’t say that I’d let it all out only idiots do that.”

Meggy turns around. “It’s your choice, only you decide what you pick. Please remember SMG3… it’s not healthy to cover up wounds without someone doing so.”

“But at all costs, you’ll be okay three” Meggy placed her hand to his shoulder. “I can’t promise that sh-t.” SMG3 shrugs off Meggy’s hand leaving her out of the way.

—-

In the castle, SMG4 enjoys getting compliments on how he just got a girlfriend along with them congratulating him. For Mario however, he doesn’t see anything changing from the man.

“Boy, you sure know how to charm a woman SMG4” Mario gave out a laugh to which SMG4 gave along. “Guess I bring out my luck to 'em” he finger guns at TAG6 with a wink.

TAG6 played along to her role, acting in love, acting happy, acting fine, acting okay. Everything was fake behind the mask, she felt anger, disgust, hatred, and pity with his crew and SMG4 to himself.

(How cheesy could this guy get along with his members? It’s so boring…) The goop who controls its own human body, rolled its eyes for who knows how many?

But no matter… I still have the Meme Guardian in our grasp, there is no way of escape for the man and the plan itself…

TAG6 made a sly face behind his shoulder. This plan is just getting started…

“Hey! U-uh- Meggy Spletzer… was it?” She caught the orange squid’s attention by surprise. “Yep, that's my name! You know me from somewhere?” Tag gets too excited and squirms, hugging Meggy tightly in results crushing her ribs.

“OH MY GOD OH MY GOD- OH MY GOD!!! I’M SUCH A BIG FAN! I SAW YOU ON TV, YOU WON ON SPLATOON FEST!” Tag shook her from side to side, nuzzling under her neck. “Sorry- heh…Again- I’m such a big fan!” Disgusting.

Meggy swoons her head from left to right, trying to recover her strength after Tag lets her go. “How long have you been a fan? Now that's a shock, but- well- it’s an honor to be known as your splat star!”

(Everything is going smoothly as it is… remember the plan… get close to his friends and never let them know about his disappearance.)

With a quick glance on the brunette’s, it is now Mario’s turn again to speak with his closest friend. “Don't you feel a bit happier now that you got a girlfriend SMG4?” Mario asked, in such a simple question.

This made SMG4 rethink about his whole life, yeah he is happy that he got a girlfriend. But why does he feel like something else is missing? Why did it feel so wrong? Where does he even get this? It couldn’t possibly be SMG3.

The SMG3 he knew wouldn’t be having these kinds of feelings to him… right…? He's never been the intimate guy that he knew who would be pulling these stuffs... or would he...? Nah- three doesn't have these stuff its just SMG4 being an overthinker...

But really tho... he doesnt have these feelings to him right...?

…

Right…?

“Pshh- You’re talking nonsense Mario- TAG6 is a perfect girl and a perfect person to me! Why would I be less happy about this?” SMG4 re-arranged his hat and pulled his collar.

It felt that something inside of him cracked, from this hurting and deep tingling he’s touched. He couldn’t get a hint.

Mario points up his hand, speaking of his joy rate. The more the red italian spent the time with SMG4, the more he knew every move and every breath of his best friend.

There is a high difference on how he acts around them, yet this one is giving him a vibe that- he couldn’t understand.

Something is telling him that this person does NOT have a soul… nor this person is even living...

——

Next Chapter - One is off, theres two but one

[PENDING...]

#lizaluv #smg34 #smg4 #smg3 #smg4 smg3 #tgifl #my fic

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roguelov · 1 year ago

Text

Crimson Stained Petals (Ch. 2)

Summary: Set in the 1880s, rumors and mysteries swirled around a quaint town, mostly about a lord tucked far into the woods. Arriving in town, you could not deny your curiosities, but you were not here to stay. Or so you thought. Low on funds, and a job for a live-in servant advertised in the paper, you now found yourself in the home of Lord Morpheus - the source of all rumors. Passions and tensions will grow. Questions will be answered, but may come at a hefty price. And a promise may be broken. But, is Lord Morpheus, and those few residents, truly as scary as they seem?

Words Count: ~3.4k

Reader: Neutral (unspecified now, however fem leaning)

Warnings: Minor angst (hints of Morpheus’s past), mutual pinning, some fluff, hints of bloodlust

Chapter 1, Chapter 3

After a week of working in the manor, you quickly found routine in your new life. It was far easier than anticipated, although somewhat tiring at points. And despite exploring the manor, you still tended to become lost or forgetful where certain rooms were. It was massive to say the least, but you adored the architecture, the different colors and styles of each room, and the obvious love - even if slightly dusty due to negligence - poured into it. Two rooms in particular captured your interest and attention: the upstairs library, and the sunroom.

The sunroom was magical. The glass - a soft sea green - dome roof sparkled in any and all lighting. On sunny days, it was as if the heavens rained down on this secret cove. Plants of all colors and variety outlined the room from vibrant dark green ferns - nearly an envious green - to signature staple of the manor’s passionate red roses as well as strong and proud sunflowers, delicate lilacs, and the intricate petals of the blushing pink carnations. Fern leaves as large as dinner plates bent towards the doorways like curtains. You could not help but imagine you were an explorer traversing the jungle as you entered.

In the center, a couch, two chairs, and a table were set out. However, there was a very obvious empty space for furniture to be pushed aside. The true beauty of the room was it could double as a ballroom if needed. You could see where a musician could sit, you could imagine a dozen people dancing in unison, you could feel the air crackle with potential energy. When you walked the pristine tile floor sang with every step of your shoe, heels clacked and echoed like a chorus; imagining a group of people in here, and oh how the room would harmonize.

The library, on the other hand, was quaint and far less grandiose compared to the sunroom. Yet, it held its own type of magic, one of comfort and warmth. It was draped in rich dark browns, glowing oranges of the sun and lanterns, and overall warm tones. The walls had built-in shelves and overflowed with books. A single thin window with a nook to sit and read by sunlight was nestled between two shelves. Two long wooden tables with chairs were placed in the room, almost more of studying than reading comfortably.

The air in the library was calmer, and gentle like an escape, or a brief pause on life. If you strolled over to the collection of books, most were published from Morpheus’s company ‘The Dreamer’s Palace’. Which wasn’t too surprising, but the library held many other books from the popular to the unknown. Every genre filled the shelves: drama, contemporary, romance, horror, fantasy, mystery, nonfiction, mythology, and poetry. You had worlds at your fingertips and each of them called to you.

When you had time, you would eventually borrow a book, with Morpheus’s permission of course. Maybe you could take the book and lounge in the sunroom, now that sounded like a lovely idea.

However, you supposed there was another place besides the sunroom and library to entertain you and your thoughts. You desperately wished to explore the ground, especially the maze. The rose maze enthralled you. The hedges must be ten feet tall, barring all from sneaking a single glance in. The full, perfect lush red roses filled the hedges and dazzled in the sunlight while somehow seemingly glowed in the moonlight. With the moon above, they tempted you like some Greek tragedy. The maze was your labyrinth. Maybe a monster lurked among the roses, maybe you would become lost and lose your sense of self, or maybe it was simply just a maze.

One day.

One day, you would run freely through the hedges and happily lose yourself amongst them.

Late in the morning, Morpheus had requested some tea. If it wasn’t in the morning after what you expected a long night, then he requested afternoon tea for one last boost to finish the day. Light seemed to always shine under the crack of his door. His footsteps creaked along the home constantly even as you laid still in bed.

Maneuvering up the stairs, you carefully balanced a kettle and a tea cup with a saucer. Stepping onto the second floor, you immediately veered left. Morpheus’s study was the first door. You knocked, announcing yourself. His reply was muffled, but allowed you in.

Opening the door, Morpheus was hunched over his desk. Stacks of paper covered his desk, with his pen scratching away editing and making revision notes on a new manuscript. A dying fire crackled as embers burned a reddish orange hue casting the room in a radiating warmth. The curtains were opened showing off the dreary morning. Rain tapped against the window, adding to the ambiance.

You beelined for Morpheus. You efficiently, as possible, set up his tea in the small corner space free of papers. Morpheus - who had been watching not just since you walked in, but since you first arrived - wondered about something that had been bothering him for a few days. The scratching of his pen seized, and he glanced out of the corner of his eye. “May I ask you a question?”

You paused as you set up his tea. It was one of the few other times he addressed you, besides your first interaction and occasionally calling for tea. Shaking yourself out of your stupor, you poured his tea. “Of course, sir.”

He laid down his pen, and turned his head to address you. His eyes - an enchanting pale blue in such dim lighting - locked with yours. “You are not afraid of me.”

You stepped back from him, having finished your assigned task. The kettle left besides his cup if he wished to have more later. You folded your hands in front of you with the empty tray in your hands. His sentence tossed over and over in your head. You frowned slightly in thought, “That is not a question.”

The corner of his lips twitched upward. “You are correct, apologies. I suppose I was more inquiring about your opinion.”

“On what?”

“Myself, and said rumors that circulate the manor.”

You didn’t need time to think. Most people warned you of this place whether directly or indirectly. “The townspeople have their beliefs and I have mine.”

“So you have no care for the matter?”

“I can form my own opinions.” You cocked your head quizzically, “I’m sorry, but did Lucienne not inform you of my answer? She asked a similar question during the interview.”

“She did, but I wish to hear it from you especially given you have been staying with us for more than over a week now.” He twisted his body in his chair, facing you directly. He gave you his full undivided attention. “So what are your opinions? What do you think of the rumors?”

You paused, considering his question. “Do you want my honest opinion, sir?”

You had your opinions. Ones that had been slowly formulating since your arrival, ones that may be an unpleasant truth to hear.

“I do.” He saw the hesitation written plainly on your face. “You can be blunt.”

You nodded, and sighed releasing any tension. “If you wish -“ you cleared your throat - “the way I see it you revel in said rumors. You can easily dispel them by ingraining yourself more into society, but you don’t. You do the donations, you have the well liked bookshop, but you do not show your face. Either you isolate yourself to protect yourself, or because you believe you deserve it - deserve the isolation.”

Morpheus hummed, utterly fascinated by your answer. “Truly? And what do you think? Why would I sever my connection to society?”

Your eyes dragged up and down over his body - you were dissecting him. Morpheus noted how a change came over you. You were not a servant, head bowed, but an equal with a sharp eye. You were clever, far more clever than you let on. A mask had momentarily slipped. “Because you deserve it or so you believe.”

He nodded. You may have indulged a mere facet of his curiosity, but somehow stirred more within this one conversation. He turned back to his work, “Thank you for indulging me.”

“Is there anything else you need, sir?” You smiled, and your tone suggested a hint of teasing, “Any other of my opinions you wish to know?”

His smile was hidden from you. “No, thank you.”

“Of course.” You bowed and swiftly left.

“And do not feel frightened to share your honesty.” He spoke the next sentence softly, whispering, “I enjoy it.”

You paused at the door. A faint flutter hummed in your chest. “If you wish, sir.”

I do, he thought.

You turned your head, glancing back once more. He had returned to his work. Your mind thought back on the conversation, on Morpheus’s self imposed isolation. You opened your mouth, only to quickly close it and simply left. As the door softly clicked shut, Morpheus put his head into his hands.

A mortal.

A foolish mortal who had unknowingly walked into the lion’s den. His thirst rose when you walked by, and the smell of you now imbued his home. Before he remembered a time when his thirst could be quelled for months at a time, unbothered or unaffected by hunger. But now as you freely roamed his halls, he could barely go a few days without feeling its intense and paralyzing effects. The taste of human blood has not touched his lips in nearly a century.

Idiot, he thought. Why did I allow this?

“I believe it would do you some good sir,” Lucienne pressed. She had approached her lord, proposing to introduce a servant, more so a cleaning servant, into the manor. Or more accurately cornered him in his study.

Morpheus huffed under his breath. “Lucienne, I respect you and your opinions, however, this is ridiculous and out of the question.”

“Lord Morpheus, you need to try more or dare we have another fiasco such as the last manor.”

Ah, yes, how could he forget.

He had gotten complacent in his solitude. He kept to himself, and worked on new stories that continued to be sent in from all over. He only cared about his work, and nothing else.

No. That was incorrect.

No, he was purposely drowning himself in it; all to forget the painful heartache. No, he had not gotten complacent in solitude, he had gotten complacent in his endless grief. Let the people gossip, he bitterly thought. Let them believe in the monster. He did not care for his world were these dingy walls with the ghost roaming amongst them.

But, a strange man who lived on the outskirts of town stirred vile imaginations. After a decade and possibly longer of living - in what Morpheus ignorantly believed to be peace - the townspeople charged one night forcing everyone to flee.

He had to rebuild.

He had to remake himself in this new town. He had hoped his donations would soothe the townspeople, but mortals were weary of newcomers and indulged in their superstitions far too often.

Even if their intuitions were right most of the time.

A tap on the window broke Morpheus out of his thoughts, his memories. Through the haze of the night, a small black mass was perched on the window sill. Morpheus wordlessly strolled over and opened the window. A bird, a raven specifically, swooped in and landed on the desk.

“And what do I owe the pleasure, Matthew?” Morpheus asked, facing the raven.

The raven shuffled, his talons clacked against the wood. “Sorry to interrupt, boss, but Merv is asking for something for the pain again. He says his supply is almost out.”

Morpheus’s features softened, a miniscule change. “Okay, tell Merv I will send for more immediately.”

Matthew nodded, but he did not move.

“Is there something else you need?” Morpheus asked, raising his eyebrow.

Matthew sighed, sinking a bit. “I may or may not have been listening to yours and Lucienne’s conversation.”

Morpheus’s lips thinned, not angered Matthew was listening - it was nothing new - but because he knew Matthew would side with Lucienne. “And what do you think of the matter then?”

“Well,” he drawled out, “I have been visiting the town a bit, and some of the people have begun to talk and they’re not too … happy.”

Morpheus barely contained his eye roll. “I have done all I can to appease them, if they want to make speculations then let them. I don’t harm them in any capacity.”

It was true. His diet these days consisted solely of animals.

“Maybe an appearance at the bookshop then,” Lucienne suggested. “But, I still urge you to hire someone. If others see someone unharmed in your care then it would lessen the problem.”

“I will not bring a stranger into my home just so mortals can stop gossiping.”

“If not for you then for us, for the manor. We already had to run once.”

Morpheus frowned.

Lucienne cautiously stepped forward. “You opened your door to me - for Mervyn, and Matthew - you brought in a stranger once before.”

“That was different. This will be a mortal, Lucienne.”

“And do you not trust yourself, or do you not want a repeat?”

Morpheus’s shoulders tensed. An intense, chilling, glare settled into his eyes. His eyes glowed ominously like a feral animal. “Lucienne, I will ask you once to not bring that up again.”

Lucienne stepped back, but did not look away. She held her ground in a way. “Apologies, sir, but I do not want to find a new place so soon.”

Matthew chirped up, disliking the heavy tension in the room. He flapped his wings to turn all the attention onto him. “And it would be nice for you, boss. The manor has been gathering dust, so it would be good for all of us, right?”

Morpheus closed his eyes then exhaled slowly. Opening his eyes, they had returned to a normal shade. “Fine.”

“What?” Matthew muttered, stunned.

“Bring someone in, do what you must.” He turned his back. “If we can survive another decade here peacefully then do so. I don’t want to start again so quickly.”

“Of course, sir, thank you.” Lucienne bowed her head and left as Matthew swooped after her.

Look at all the good it has done, Morpheus thought.

Morpheus was confined to these walls with you lurking around. You were haunting him, and you reminded him of -

He shook away those memories. He had a new ghost in his home and he had to deal with this unfortunate reality. This wasn’t about him, this was about Lucienne, Matthew, and Mervyn. They were lucky last time to escape before the home burned, but luck always ran out. If people discovered the truth, if they came in the night unheard, he couldn’t forgive himself for anything that would happen to his friends - his family.

This was his family unlike the one born from blood.

Meanwhile as you strolled away from Morpheus’s study, your thoughts were tangled together. He was odd. Polite, yes. But, odd. He created a wedge between him and most; a wedge you clearly saw. In the short time you were living here, it was becoming obvious who Lord Morpheus was: a tortured soul. But, why? What drove him to this state? If you were to continue to live here, you would find out.

Curiosity was powerful, and you had your reasonings to do so.

Taking the tray to the kitchen, you once again passed by another oddity in the manor: the plain wooden door under the stairs. Earlier in your adventures of the manor, you tried to open it to no avail.

“I wouldn’t keep trying if I were you.” You whirled around - panicked you had been caught - and thankfully only saw Lucienne. She smiled, a joking smile, at your reaction. Her eyes darted to the lock door. “It leads to the basement where the plumbing goes.”

You frowned, disappointed.

“Sorry, I know it’s not as wondrous as you might think.” She strolled forwards, eyes kept on the door. “But I assure you, it’s not pleasant down there. It’s damp and dark with old pipes.”

Her eyes flickered over, locking with yours. She peered over her glasses to ensure she looked at you directly. ‘Don’t’ was all her eyes said.

“I suppose the wonders of plumping is something I’m not too keen about,” you chuckled lightly.

Her smile softened, and laughed along with you. “No, I don’t think most are. Now, if you excuse me, I was going to get a drink.”

She skirted by you towards the kitchen. Once, she was down the hall and out of sight, your eyes swiveled back to the door. Only one thought ran through your mind: she’s lying. You pressed your hand to the door. In your chest, deep within your bones, something hummed on the other side.

Stepping back, you searched and no one was around. If not today, but one day you will see what was behind that door. A voice told you to be cautious in your curiosity, but to also not let it die out. Trust your gut. And your gut needed the door to be opened to reveal all its secrets.

You paused, running your hand over the grain of the wood. The hum still called out. Similar to how you swore to uncover the secrets of a Morpheus, this door fell under it as well. This manor reeked of secrets and lies. It did not frightened you, not in the least. It compelled you. And the rumors only spurred your thirst for knowledge.

But, today was not the day. All of this required a touch of patience.

A skill you honed over the years.

Brushing past, you made your way into the kitchen dropping off the tray. Glancing out the window, the late rainy morning reminded you of all the hours you still had left in the day. You sighed.

Now, what should I do?

The rest of the day you decided to busy yourself with cleaning the kitchen. Most of the appliances were new, and strangely did not seem to be used as frequently since some dust had collected on them, much like the rest of the manor. You scrubbed the cabinets and the floor, cleaned dishes and silverware, and threw away any rotted food - which was surpassingly little. The kitchen nearly sparkled by the end of your work, and luckily the day had passed between all of it.

You retired for the night and drew a well deserved and needed bath. You soaked for almost an hour, letting your skin prune and your thoughts wander: thoughts of the manor, thoughts of Lucienne, thoughts of the mysterious gardener, thoughts of Morpheus, and thoughts of your past and life now.

You sighed, sinking into the water until it barely touched your nose.

Here was a new start with new promises while the past still loomed heavily over your shoulders. No, you truly couldn’t start anew until the past was settled. You knew this, and you were constantly reminded of it.

With the water now cold, you decided to get out. You dried off and pulled on your night clothes. Shuffling out of the bathroom, you passed the writing desk.

You paused.

Changing direction from your cozy bed, you veered to the desk. You needed to write a letter, one you had forgotten - and may have purposely neglected - to write. You plopped down into the creaky wooden chair and began to write a letter. Amongst your initial search of the desk, you were surprised, and thankful, to find paper and ink already inside the drawer.

You had an old promise to keep.

You pulled out a paper and addressed it to your uncle. An uncle who raised you and taught you many things. An uncle who you spoke exclusively in letters since leaving his home nearly over a decade ago. You loved him dearly, and hoped maybe one day after your journey of self discovery, and possibly after truly settling down, you would visit him again.

Under a candlelight, you wrote about the past week. You spoke of your new job, your new lord, and the others who lived here - even if you spoke only to one. You spoke how this job could be the one, the one to change your life. You told him he was still always in your thoughts, and wondered how he was doing since his new retired life per his last letter. You smiled down at the letter, and signed it. You neatly folded it, and tucked it into an envelope to send at the earliest convenience.

Maybe Lucienne could take it to the post office for you, or maybe you’ll make a visit into town.

The decision will come later, for now you need to sleep.

#the sandman #the sandman au #morpheus #dream of the endless #vampire!morpheus #vampire!dream #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #vampire!morpheus x reader #vampire!dream x reader #fem!reader

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page-2-ids · 2 years ago

Photo

[ID: A flag with nine horizontal stripes, the first middle and last are twice the size of the others. The colors get lighter towards the middle and darker towards the edges. The colors are, from top to bottom, dark washed-out indigo, washed-out violet, washed-out red, peach, light yellow, peach, washed-out red, washed-out violet, and dark washed-out indigo. END ID]

Dystrofare: A non-xenogender umbrella term for genders centered around dystopia, rebellion, the falls of empires, rebel movements, loss, destruction, failure, heartbreak, inevitable cycles of rise and fall, etc.

Common themes, connections, and experiences in Dystrofare genders include:

- Burned out candles

- Abundance, want/wanting

- Mist, haze, fog, smoke

- Sunrises, sunsets, night

- Reluctant breakups

- Rebellion, anger

- Melancholy, saudade

- Bad relationships

- Darkness, dramatic lighting

- Fire, lighters, sparks, flares, flames

- Red, orange, yellow, peach

- Purple, indigo, violet, lilac, baby blue

- White, black, grey

- Power, dystopia, dictatorships

- Loss of power, falling empires

- Youth, aging, loss of innocence

- Sexuality, lust, desire

- Conflict, incompatibility, fighting, arguing, battle

- Running from the law, partners in crime dynamics, crime

- Heroism, villainy

- Drama, theatrics, tragedy

- Desolate streets, abandoned bars

however, Dystreds don’t have to be related to any of these things. Due to this term being inspired by my associations with the album 7800° Fahrenheit, Dystrofare genders do fall under the Bonjender, though they don’t have to actually be related to Bon or any of their music or fall under any other umbrellas, unless the coiner wishes. While this term has similarities to Saudania, Eroscoitus, and Ruptura, they aren’t inherently part of the same umbrella, though some may experience it like that.

The name comes from dystopia, destruction, and warfare

The colors are inspired by my associations with this term

Other information, like the related -in-nature term, quality, and some affixes are under the cut

No suggested pronouns

Stro/Strof - Dystrofare equivalent of girl/boy

Faren - Dystrofare equivalent of man/woman

Dystred - A Dystrofare gender

Dystrinity - Dystrofare gender quality (adjective is Dystrinine)

DYSIN - Dystrofare/Dystrinine in nature

Dys- || Dyst-|| Dystr- - Optional Dystrofare prefixes

-ofare || -rofare || -strofare - Optional Dystrofare suffixes

-dystro- || -fare- - Optional Dystrofare affixes

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spongeaddict · 9 months ago

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My SINCEREST apologies that I’ve been MIA, here are some headcanons to hopefully tide you over until I can get my GD crap together!

Fraphne engagement/wedding headcanons!

Fred proposes with a trap, of course

Shaggy, Velma, and Scooby are all in on the proposal

Fred doesn’t have a ring when he proposes because he was afraid of getting the wrong one (even though Daphne promised she’d love anything he picked out)

Instead he tells her they’ll go ring shopping together, which delights her to no end

Daphne is anti-diamond, so she chooses something more unique, like an opal or a sapphire

While both Daphne and Fred would have been happy with a small wedding with just the gang and close family in attendance, both sets of their parents insist on throwing them a huge wedding

They can afford it after all

It’s definitely a spring wedding; sometime in late April or early May

Daphne’s wedding dress is practical but gorgeous; a classy ivory strapless mermaid style gown with a short train, if any

Her something old is a string of pearls that all the women in her family have worn an their wedding days

Her something new is her dress/veil

Her something borrowed is her mother’s best pearl earrings

Her something blue is the insoles of her shoes

She’s got two pairs of shoes by the way; heels for the ceremony, comfortable white sneakers for the reception

Fred doesn’t wear a tuxedo; instead he wears a classic dark gray suit

But instead of a tie, he wears his ascot

Shaggy’s the best man, Velma’s the maid of honor, Scooby is the ring bearer (but you knew that!)

The wedding is outdoors, somewhere like a winery; the tent for the reception is set up next to the vineyard

Daphne’s bouquet has lilacs, orchids, white roses, and plenty of greenery

Fred and Daphne don’t have a First Look; the first time Fred sees her on their wedding day is when she’s walking down the aisle

Daphne is worried about crying during the ceremony, but when the day arrives she’s so happy she just smiles the whole time

Fred, however, goes through the whole ceremony with tears of joy in his eyes

So do Shaggy, Velma, and Scooby for that matter

Open bar at the reception because again; the Blake family can afford it

Fred and Daphne’s first dance is to something classic and romantic like “Something” by The Beatles or “At Last” by Etta James

In a move that surprises everyone, Velma gives a funny maid of honor speech, and Shaggy gives a serious best man speech

Both speeches are perfect

There’s no bouquet toss because Daphne thinks it’s tacky

There’s also no garter toss because Fred thinks it’s weird

The biggest drama of the evening occurs when Scooby disappears halfway through the reception and no one can find him for an hour

It turns out he just ate so much food he passed out behind the DJ booth

The song that closes out the night is “Time of My Life” from Dirty Dancing

Fred and Daphne do the lift 😊

They discussed for a long time about what to do about last names; whether Daphne should take Fred’s or keep her own

What they end up doing is both hyphenating

So their full names after they get married are Frederick Blake-Jones and Daphne Blake-Jones

#scooby doo headcanon #fraphne #spongeaddict writes

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dramioneasks · 8 months ago

Note

Hey

I wanted to ask if you can recommend any fics similar to the choices we make

Or any fic where Draco and hermione are dating during the war and Draco is undercover for the order

Thanks !

Amor Vincit Omnia - The Beginning by Twin_Flame_Blues - M, 7 chapters - All of the flashbacks (plus a few new ones!) from the original AVO, organized in chronological order. This is essentially the prequel fic to AVO, telling the story of how Draco and Hermione got together at Hogwarts, how they kept their relationship a secret, and what they went through in the lead up to, during, and immediately after the war. I really wanted to compile all of the flashbacks from AVO into their own story so you could read it all the way through in order for a different experience than you get in AVO. The story begins during 4th year and continues through the end of Draco’s trial after the war. You can read this either if you have or have not read the original AVO, it will make sense either way, and the backstory built in this fic will remain consistent for all other works in the AVO universe, including alternate timeline fics that will pick up where this story ends. Enjoy these two idiots falling in love!

What Is Necessary - Musyc - E, one-shot - War leads to rage - between sides, between enemies, between friends, and between lovers. Hermione and Draco are both enemies and lovers. It is necessary to hide love under rage, and they do what is necessary to survive.

Goodbye, Granger - sweetestsorrows (katschako) - M, 4 chapters - Though he loved her for years, Draco always knew Hermione wasn’t truly his, not for forever. So he did his best to aid her efforts in the endless war, to ensure her success against the Dark Lord, and to create a future wizarding society where she could thrive. He simply never expected that he would be granted the opportunity to share a happy ending with her.

of flavoured names and coloured sounds by Pink Panda (Ejacyeolation) - E, 2 Chapters - “He doesn’t question it at first, the fact that sounds have colours and words have flavours. He grows up with it, grows up seeing powerful ruptures of colour when his mother plays the piano and softer, translucent bursts when the people around him speak. His father’s voice fills his vision with sombre oranges and lilacs while his mother’s is a pleasant mix of delicate greens, blues, and greys. The word father tastes like wet wood and the word mother tastes like the pumpkin juice the house-elves frequently serve him.“ In which Draco just wants to know what colour Hermione’s moans would be. He also wants to know if her skin would taste as sweet as her surname or maybe as intoxicating as her given name.

The Fallen By: Shananigans10 - M, 9 chapters - Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy have been a couple for years, trying to toe the line and stay alive during the hard times the war has brought to the Wizarding world. What happens when Voldemort finds out that they’re together, and have been for quite some time? TW: Rape. Spy!Draco, Anti!Lucius, Anti!Death Eaters, Dark story. Rated M for violence, language, sexual situations.

A Melancholy Refrain by Misdemeanor1331 - K, one-shot - Seeing her one last time was worth any amount of pain.

Title:Hanging On Author: eau_bleu Rating: G Genre(s): Drama, Romance Chapters: 1 Word Count: 3,068 Summary: Draco turned spy with Hermione Granger as his contact almost immediately after the the Golden Trio’s escape from Malfoy Manor when they were brought there by Snatchers . Only Hermione and Andromeda Tonks know of Draco’s position. Draco went to his aunt first, who contacted Hermione at Shell Cottage, on Draco’s behalf. They meet in secret at a safe house, a very small cottage belonging to the late Ted Tonks’ family. The cabin is located in Ireland.

-Lisa

#anonymous #secret relationship #war #au #draco: spy

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ijustreallylikepirates · 9 months ago

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A list if my fictional crushes (nobody cares but this is a tad bit long 👀)

Hector from Coco

Zuko from Avatar the Last Airbender

Sokka from Avatar the Last Airbender

Ozai from Avatar the Last Airbender

Bolin from Legend of Korra

Eska from Legend of Korra

Huan from Legend of Korra

Nathaniel from Miraculous Ladybug

Marc from Miraculous Ladybug

Luka from Miraculous Ladybug

Sea Hawk from She-Ra

Horde Prime from She-Ra

Hunter from The Owl House

Raine from The Owl House

Darius from The Owl House

Callum from The Dragon Prince

Runaan from The Dragon Prince

Ethari from The Dragon Prince

Aaravos from The Dragon Prince

Gren from The Dragon Prince

King Harrow from The Dragon Prince

Terry from The Dragon Prince

Corvus from The Dragon Prince

Carmen Sandiego from Carmen Sandiego

Shadowsan from Carmen Sandiego

Devineaux from Carmen Sandiego

Gray from Carmen Sandiego

Dash Haber from Carmen Sandiego

Le Chèrve from Carmen Sandiego

El Topo from Carmen Sandiego

Mime Bomb from Carmen Sandiego

Ollie from The Ghost and Molly McGee

Dark Cacao Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Pure Vanilla Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Clotted Cream Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Stardust Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Capsaicin Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Eclair Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Dark Choco Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Crunchy Chip Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Red Velvet Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Wildberry Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Affogato Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Lilac Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Herb Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Royal Margarine Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Rockstar Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Burnt Cheese Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Smoked Cheese Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Espresso Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Prune Juice Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Werewolf Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Mint Choco Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Vampire Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Crème Brûlée Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Licorice Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Sparkling Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Mercurial Knight Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Adventurer Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Gumball Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Clover Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Camilo from Encanto

Bruno from Encanto

Augustin from Encanto

Daring from Ever After High

Sparrow from Ever After High

Alistair from Ever After High

Sundrop from Five Nights at Freddy’s

Robaire from Turning Red

Pink Lars from Steven Universe

Ford from Gravity Falls

Eddie from Stranger Things

Cody from Total Drama

Dave from Total Drama

Geoff from Total Drama

Jacques from Total Drama

Noah from Total Drama

Shawn from Total Drama

Raoul from A Monster In Paris

Harry from Harry Potter

Ron from Harry Potter

Neville from Harry Potter

Sirius from Harry Potter

Lupin from Harry Potter

Bill from Harry Potter

Gilderoy from Harry Potter

Percy from Percy Jackson

Grover from Percy Jackson

Leo from Heroes of Olympus

Nico from Percy Jackson

Will from Percy Jackson

Apollo from Percy Jackson

Hades from Percy Jackson

Alec from Disventure Camp

Nick from Disventure Camp

Nick from Heartstopper

Charlie from Heartstopper

Tao from Heartstopper

Aled from Heartstopper

Madmartigan from Willow

Wally from Welcome Home

Eddie from Welcome Home

Howdy from Welcome Home

Finn from Adventure Time

Simon from Adventure Time

Marshall Lee from Fionna and Cake

Gary from Fionna and Cake

Ambrosius from Nimona

Ballister from Nimona

P.T. Barnum from The Greatest Showman

The Other Father from Coraline

Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean

Will from Pirates of the Caribbean

Professor Rocket from Crashbox

Jumpin’ Johnnie Jumble from Crashbox

Sketch from Crashbox

Anyways, I’m done yapping. Just a disclaimer so that people don’t get mad or anything, I’m not sexualizing any of these characters. Also for people wondering about the characters that are minors, I am also a minor.

I have a big obsession with fictional characters 😁

I love how most of these were scrunkly middle aged men and then there’s just two girls (Carmen Sandiego and Eska turned me gay for a minute)

29 notes · View notes

lalunanymph · 6 months ago

Text

BLACKMAIL KISS — h. ran

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── a bonten!haitani ran miniseries inspired by hametsu no itte

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── bonten timeline, fem!reader, wife!reader, reader is feminine coded (wears dresses, heels, makeup), heavy tones of cheating/infidelity, DARK CONTENT, blackmail, political drama, public play, b/d/s/m, collaring, b/allgags, d/addy kink, n/ipple play, s/quirting untouched, mentions of cigarettes, mentions of alcohol & drugs, e/dging training, tease and denial, o/rgasm control, body writing, d/ildos, throat training, petnames (princess, good girl, whore, slut), b/reathplay, s/pit kink, coercion, mentions of pregnancy, non-con recording, HEAVY TOPICS PROCEED WITH CAUTION

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── bittersweet blackmail with this playlist

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── masterlist

#2: the way you bend, the way you break

“Have you ever been tied up before?” was how Ran Haitani greeted you the moment you stepped into the back of his Lamborghini.

His hired driver in the front was trained to tune out his superior’s words, focused on beating Roppongi’s 7PM traffic.

There was a red light blinking on the car’s dashboard, and you barely paid it any attention, too focused on restraining yourself from reaching over to choke Ran for asking such a perverted question.

He eyed you up and down in your billowing black trench coat and shades, a flimsy attempt to avoid the public’s recognition. But, you didn’t have to worry. Ran had made you walk down an empty promenade about 200 metres away where he was waiting for you, careful to idle away from Mayor Tsunake’s residence.

Your husband had no idea where you were headed to or who you were meeting tonight, only aware that you had a dinner to attend with another trophy wife. Without warning, Makko’s expression swam in your mind, your husband’s greying hair and deep wrinkles a contrast from this younger man before you with his bleached-lilac locks and fitted expensive suits.

As if he could sense your ruminations, Ran changed his tune. “Has your husband noticed anything unusual lately?”

You shook your head mutely. Last night flashed in your thoughts—Makko’s bigger body hovering over yours, thrusting deep into your slick pussy as you fought off the sensitivity from days of edging and denied releases. His thickset brows had knitted together, mouth falling open in a small ‘O’.

You were so lewd tonight, Makko had murmured, smoothing his palm down your belly after he was done fucking you, looking both bewildered and delighted. Your expressions, your sounds… it’s like you’ve never been touched before.

Swallowing hard, you peeled your eyes to your clenched fists on your lap. “Makko said I’ve been… more expressive lately.”

Ran slid one hand down your thigh, feeling the soft satin of your coat give way to his touch. You hardly reacted when he dragged the hem up, a smirk spreading across his handsome face when your bare thigh appeared like a fleshy delight. He didn’t have to hike up your coat’s skirt further to chance a peek at the dark triangle between your legs; his attention immediately on the plush fat of your thighs chafing together. Satisfied that you had followed his orders, Ran straightened the hem back in place, giving you back your modesty with a curt nod. The blood roared in your ears, and you almost didn’t hear his soft, prodding question.

“More expressive?” He reached for a cigarette in his breast pocket, lighting it up. Your nose crinkled from the smell of cheap tobacco, but you didn’t reprimand him for smoking in close proximity to you. Noticing your expression, Ran chuckled. “You don’t like the smoke, huh? Too low class for you?”

Just because you were being blackmailed by a Bonten executive didn’t mean you had to play nice with him or protect his ego.

“Cigarettes are filthy. I hate smokers.”

Ran hummed, absorbing your dignified profile. Your head was tilted at a haughty angle, your gaze resolutely on the road ahead; pretending to not pay attention to the man beside you. But, your efforts were futile—his citrus cologne and musk pierced your nose, you felt his body heat radiating even from your end of the seat. His steady breathing filled the silence and you tasted his cigarette smoke on the tip of your tongue.

“Fair,” he snorted, flicking the excess ash onto the car floor. “But, you still haven’t answered me about what your husband meant. I hate asking questions twice, Y/N.”

You trailed your eyes back down to your hands set primly on your lap. “I… felt repressed. Before.” For a woman who spent most of her marriage doing what her husband wanted in bed, it felt strange to voice out your innermost desires. “But now, I’m more open. I feel him better. I—” you struggled to elucidate your words. “—it’s almost as if I’m a new person he’s… sleeping with.”

Ran inhaled the cigarette down to its nub, putting it out against the car door and flicking the butt down to the floor. “You’re more free with him is what I understand. You’re more lewd and open for him because of your training. Denial is a strange thing like that—” his hand was back on your thigh, lifting the hem up. You flashed one, quick, panicked glance at the driver who had a prime view of you in the back seat.

The Bonten executive shook his head. “Dayo is trained to not say a word about my affairs unless he wants a bullet in the back of his head. Isn’t that right, Dayo-kun?”

“Yes, Sir,” the driver automatically retorted.

To you, Ran dipped his head closer, lips almost brushing your heated earlobe. “It’s okay to be lewd with me here, Y/N.” His hand reached further up your thigh, exposing your bare pussy to the cool, car air. “You don’t have to pretend with me, okay, my slut? Let’s see that pretty naked body. Pictures can’t compare to the real thing.”

With his hands on you, Ran stroked your thighs, parting your legs and dragging you onto his lap. Your gasp was swallowed by his mouth hungrily lapping at yours—it wasn’t a kiss as much as it was an attempt to devour you. His hair was stiff with pomade, but your fingers sank into them, tugging those purple locks with wild fervour.

A tongue tasting of tobacco and musk plunged past your mouth, running across your teeth, the rim of your lips; licking your YSL lipstick off, sliding back in when you gasped to play with the twitching pink muscle—leaving a plasticky aftertaste on your tastebuds.

Ran gripped your jaw in his steel grip, moving those intense stamps down your neck. After days of not feeling him, you were incredibly sensitive.

A-ah mhmh! Your moans reverberated around the car when he sucked a mark onto your pulse point, and against your better judgement, you cradled his face closer to your neck like a mother letting her child feed from her. Ran was greedy indeed, trailing those bruising kisses and nips down your neck. Feverishly hot and large hands pried the panels of your coat aside to show off your collarbones and shoulders.

The coat was barely hanging off your frame, your thighs wide and exposed, splayed on either side of his generous lap. Ran wasn’t a bulky man per say, but his height added a girth which made you feel dwarfed next to him in comparison.

Those ring-clad fingers sent chilly jolts that tasted of metal pinches when they roamed down your bare thighs. He touched you everywhere except the place where you were dripping for him the most, continuing to kiss down your neck and between your breasts to tease you.

“This coat is so thin,” he whispered against your skin. “I could tie a rope harness around you and your nipples would show up underneath this flimsy old thing.” He fingered the thin satin, smirking. “Should we test that theory out? After all, you didn’t answer my first question.”

His first question—?

Your thoughts were rudely interrupted when you felt him shift you aside, reaching underneath his seat to remove a coil of ropes.

“W-wait,” your squeak of protest was quelled by one elegantly groomed brow raising in question. Your mouth clamped shut, and you eyed the red bindings with open trepidation.

“Remove your coat until your waist. You can keep the rest on.”

You dared not defy him. Ran’s voice was hard and cold—a hint of steel behind the civility. This was a man who had no qualms destroying your life if you let him. Slowly, like you were told a death sentence and were walking to the gallows, you shrugged off your coat, leaving the open panels at waist level while you tried to uncomfortably cross your legs together—hoping to not flash the poor driver whose eyes fell intermittently on your flushed face.

As if he did this every single day, Ran looped the first coil underneath your heaving breasts. He circled it around your torso, careful to move your hair out of the way so it wouldn’t get caught, and tightened it enough till you were gasping for breath. Taking the two ends, he curled it under your arms, taking them behind your back and tying them together. Your limbs effectively out of the way, he tugged the ends back underneath your rib cage, criss-crossing it over your shoulders to form a tight cage around your torso.

Finishing off a knot behind your neck, the excess rope slid against your bare body, and he took the other coil, this time intentionally grazing the entire length over your right nipple. He repeated the same movement on your left one, the sudden burn of rope on your most sensitive peaks leaving them throbbing and hard like little fleshy stones.

The outside world faded into a monotony, your entire attention stolen from the rope wounding in between your legs. Ran was quick to tie a knot, and before you could wrap your head around it, he had connected the length of rope with the one binding your hands together.

You were effectively caught in his trap with nowhere to go; red diamonds patterning across your entire torso and belly. Every breath you inhaled felt like you were trying to strain your breath past a sieve, your entire body rigidly straight and tingling. Your breathing came out shallow—your mind going dangerously blank. You felt his lips under your ear, his hands massaging your hips.

“I won’t hurt you, trust me,” he crooned, hypnotising you with his smooth baritone. “You look so pretty with my ropes on. I think we should go for a walk.” As he spoke, he straightened your coat lapels, tightening them back to your front to cover up his jute masterpiece. Once he fixed your hem and slid his own coat over your shoulders, no one could tell you were all tied up for him under two layers of warmth.

“A walk,” you whispered, your ears ringing. “W-where?”

As if he had planned this entire scene down to the last minute detail, Ran tapped on the driver’s shoulder, signalling for him to stop. You looked out past the heavily tinted windows, finding a stretch of beach greeting you. It was empty, but you spotted a few families dotting the shores, and suddenly felt lightheaded.

“R-Ran—I-I can’t—”

“Ssh,” he rubbed your shoulder, surprisingly tender in his reassurances. “I’ll be here. Don’t worry. Let’s take it one step at a time.”

You were far away from the city, close to the beach, with a dangerous man who had the power to humiliate you with one single flick of his wrist. He had re-tied your coat sloppily and loosely, probably on purpose to hammer in how vulnerable you were without him beside you.

Ran wisely didn’t say another word as he helped you out of the car, his hands steady on the small of your back. The first thing you noticed was the chill—your nipples instantly stiffened, but the cold wasn’t the only reason why. You had barely noticed the knot above your clit—too caught up with your own nakedness underneath the coat to notice how it rubbed against you with every step you took.

“S-shit…” your soft whimper drew his smirk.

Ran led you by the elbow, turning back to nod at the driver who obediently stationed his ostentatious Lambo by the curb. The day was pleasantly chilly, and it would’ve been the perfect time for a walk if you weren’t dying from every step.

“Fuck…” The knot moved no matter how mincing your walk was; everything you tried to alleviate the firm tension right on your aching clit was useless. Your thighs were burning, your breaths coming out in heated pants. You were sure you were going to pass out, your brain going fuzzy.

“Hey, stay with me,” Ran’s low voice beside you caught your attention. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, and he drew you to his side. He was wearing a pair of large Versace shades, covering those teasing purple eyes lingering on your flaming face. “Do you need a hand?”

Laughing at your mutinous glare, you would’ve kneed him in the nuts if it wasn’t for the crotch rope digging up your folds. Your arms were starting to tremble in their locked position, and you swore every breath you took felt like you were struggling to inhale through molasses. Your lungs were fighting to inhale a deeper breath, and the mild choking sensation wrapped entirely around your body was making you feel like you were floating on air.

It’s too tight, you stumbled a little and Ran caught you. I feel like I’m completely trapped.

It didn’t help that you were wearing heels, your steps wobbling on the pavement. A woman was approaching hand-in-hand with an older man, and she locked eyes with you.

Panic slithered down your spine—your nipples were fully pressing against the thin coat, and you were limping to avoid squeezing your thighs in front of her. You saw it on her face, that single look of concern and confusion. Hot shame tore through you, and you thought you would cry out if it wasn’t for Ran tightening his hold on you, that easy smile never slipping off his handsome face.

Struggling to mimic his grin, you fought off the urge to squeeze your thighs in front of the poor, unsuspecting couple, nodding uncomfortably when they passed by you. Ran’s arm was a warm weight, offering you both support and the pretence of a loving boyfriend in front of these innocent strangers when you knew otherwise.

The steel grip. The tightening fingers on your shoulder. He was holding you tightly in his reins; keeping you from dissolving. His control over you never wavered, not for a split second.

“How do you feel?” Ran spoke close to your ear. You couldn’t help the shiver from his warm breath touching your neck, struggling to find the right word which encapsulated your tense emotions.

“Restrained,” you whispered back, unable to look him in the eye. You trailed your gaze to the brilliant blue sea, hunching your shoulders closer to your chest to keep your hard nipples semi-hidden. Anyone who saw you would assume you were curling inwardly from the cold.

Ran tsked and nudged your lower back, reminding you to stand straight and tall. You reluctantly walked with your chest pressed out, the light coat covering your entire body feeling like a flimsy see-through cloth.

Almost everyone who walked past you stared at your pinched expression in open curiosity. You felt like the entire world held a spotlight under your clothes—that they could tell a naked, tied-up and submissive woman was fighting off the cresting pleasure right under their noses.

“Ran, please,” you whimpered, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down your neck. You had both been walking for the past ten minutes, and the pavement continued stretching ahead with no end in sight. “I-I can’t anymore.” You were breathing heavily, forehead and chest covered with a light sheen of sweat. Ran made you stop in mid-stride, and you set your foot down with a quiet whimper.

The closest sensation you could describe burning through you was as if your entire body was sore from struggling in towering heels all day.

You didn’t know what was worse—the pain of constantly being in motion or the agony of coming to a halt to fully feel the throbbing ache crashing into you.

You shifted from one foot to another, but nothing you did could stop that pesky knot from rubbing your clit.

Ran had tied it tightly, making sure it was stimulating you even when you moved your weight.

“Do you want to sit down?”

The thought of bending and struggling to perch yourself on a bench while the rope continued to rub and stretch across your pulsing clit almost made you cry.

“Please,” you nearly sobbed. “I-I can’t take it anymore. It b-burns.”

Ran slipped his arm around your waist, and drew you closer to him—letting you sag against his side, like how a boyfriend would let his tired girlfriend rest on him. You closed your watery eyes, fighting to keep calm.

“Good girl,” Ran whispered, rubbing your back, your shoulders in broad daylight. Your brain was in a constant humming state of panic and arousal, you almost forgot you were in public before releasing a hushed, unsteady moan. “Fuck,” he chuckled, and the smell of his citrus cologne under your cheek was driving you quietly insane. “I think we need to head back. You’re a few strokes away from cumming and I can’t have that.”

The agony resumed again, this time nearly consuming you as you traced your way back to his car. Ran was patient with your mincing steps, and you were sure your palms were bleeding from how hard your nails dug into them.

One, two, three—you tried to count your breaths, casting your eyes towards the ocean to take your mind off the strain in between your thighs and the bondage around your arms.

The car loomed in the distance, and you were so grateful you actually cried out softly when the driver stepped out to open the door for you. Ran made sure to watch your head as you tumbled into the backseat, sprawled on the luscious cushions as he climbed in after you.

“Drive,” Ran murmured tersely the second the driver returned back to his front seat. “Back home, Dayo-kun.”

“Yes, Sir,” the young man retorted, tipping his head and putting the car in motion. You sank back into the seats, releasing a groan of relief, tilting your hips up so the knot loosened its pressure on your throbbing clit. Ran took his coat off your shoulders, and unwound the twist in front of your body.

Your roped torso appeared, your nipples hard enough to cut through steel. Ran played with the right one for a bit, rolling it between his long fingers and tugging. He exhaled a laugh through his nose when you squeaked, taken back by the sudden strike of sensitivity. You pinned your watery eyes to Dayo in the front, who was pleasantly driving like there wasn’t a woman teased and tied behind the car.

Tattooed and ring-clad fingers played with your other rock hard nipple, cruelly pinching them to elicit your mewls, your hips ticking uncontrollably.

“So sensitive,” Ran whispered, smoothing one large palm down your sternum. His other hand was still busy stimulating your blushing bud—twisting, pinching and tugging it until you swore you felt every pang of pleasure deep in your cervix.

“Ran,” you gasped, your body lurching forward to escape from the almost painful arousal. “S-stop—”

“Take it,” he murmured, tone barely fazed. “I think you can hold out longer than that.”

Stuffing your lower lip between your teeth, you keened, arching your back deeper into his arms, thrusting your breasts further up for him to play with.

Bastard, bastard, bastard. You thought back to the couple who looked at you with polite concern, the older woman who turned her head the second you passed by her. Their stares. Their parted mouths. The question flashing in their eyes. Like they knew you were tied up—like they had known you were cresting on the edge of the strongest orgasm in your life.

Something wet slid down your thighs, and you gasped, prying your eyes open in time to find a small stream leaking out to drip down the carpeted floors. “Ran—”

He noticed your body betraying you, too, and growled, “That’s fucking right, baby—squirt for me.” Ran didn’t stop pinching your nipples, rolling them harshly between his calloused fingers. “Make a mess in my car, you little whore. Show the world who owns you—show Daddy how good this slutty pussy is for him.”

“A-Ah—!” Shamelessly, your back bowed, your thighs clenching together, but nothing could staunch the flow dripping down your legs; the well of shame finally overflowing.

What is happening to me?

Panic soused through your entire body, your thoughts going haywire.

Fuck am I pissing in a car? I’m too old to piss in a car. Am I squirting? Oh God, Dayo can smell me. I’m squirting in the car. In public. I’m squirting—

“R-Ran!” you cried out, shaking the tinted windows with the decibels of your scream; your thighs fell open, hips pathetically pulsing in the air. Circling around. Trying to find a cock to sink down on. But, Ran didn’t even give you his fingers, greedily milking your nipples—flicking them, pinching them hard enough until they throbbed. They were fully distended, so sharp and pointy you could see them from a mile away.

Everything in front of you went blurry—the roads, sky and sea melting into a melange of colours.

“R-Ran…” You sagged back into his chest, eyes sliding close in both exhaustion and surrender. The wetness trickled down to your ankles, staining your coat. His fingers ceased tugging on your poor, abused nipples, running down the dips of your hips instead.

“Good girl.” He hummed into your hair, “Good fucking girl. I’m so proud of you.”

Despite yourself—all of your reservations—your chest glowed warmly at his praise, your poor tits throbbing like dying embers. You felt your limbs loosened to your side, and the ropes melting to the floor. Strong arms gathered you closer to his chest, his face pressed into your neck, rocking you side to side like you were a child coming down from a tantrum.

“Good girl. Did so well for me. I knew you could do it—I knew a slut like you had it in her. I’m so proud of you.”

Your torture didn’t end there.

Ran had driven you to one of his many penthouses around Tokyo, letting you grip onto his bicep as he led you up the elevator to his home. The doors opened to a grand decorated living room, gilded with expensive furniture and topped with an ivory piano in the middle of the cavernous space. You barely had time to admire the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Akasuka bay before he was dragging you into the bedroom.

A large king-sized deck in silky white sheets immediately caught your eye. The second thing were the mirrors installed on the ceilings. On the walls, you noticed notches, and on the ceilings above were eye hooks which you found out what they meant the second he told you to strip and stand near the bed.

Ran removed a coil of jute rope from underneath his bed, and you didn’t fight him off this time when he started to tie you up. Worn out from your bizarre release, your limbs were jelly when he lifted your arms overhead, securing them to a lowered hook. Tilting your head up, you noticed a double of your worried stare reflected back to you.

“You still scared?” He hummed, taking the ends of the jute coil and tucking it under your thighs. With a single tug, your right leg lifted off the ground, leaving you wobbling on your unsteady left one.

“Ugh—” You staunched a low groan, refusing to admit how much the sight of your own bound body in the mirrors above was turning you on beyond belief. The orgasm you experienced in his car left you completely unsatisfied, your hips ticking whenever he so much as grazed your pelvis.

You needed more; you wanted more from Haitani Ran.

“I took some pictures of you, y’know,” Ran commented breezily, curling the rope around your heaving breasts, flicking your left nipple playfully as an afterthought. “The little dash camera beside Dayo-kun. I’m sure you noticed it.”

Dimly, the recollection of a red blinking light came to mind. “N-no…”

It was no use protesting. Ran chuckled like he hadn’t committed a violation against you, straightening up to stare you down the line of his angular nose. “You should know better than to underestimate me, Mrs. Tsunake. I always keep a track record wherever I go.”

Once more red ropes kept you tethered to this sick game he was playing with you.

Ran hummed, taking one step back.

The rope harness was back around your torso, your arms tied overhead with the same devilish red coils. This time, your right leg was fastened to your waist, leaving your flushed folds and clit out in the vulnerable open. His bed yawned like a white mouth behind you, and from the windows stretching ahead, the city looked up at this lewd spectacle, twinkling lights like the tiniest flashes of cameras catching your flushed expression.

Your chest heaved, nipples circling, and you suddenly felt too exposed to the world. Anyone could peek past these windows at your bound form; someone could take a photo and send it right to your husband.

“It’s missing something.”

Ran tapped a slim, manicured finger to his chin, and hummed. Disappearing from your view, you struggled to listen after his footsteps, the blood pounding in your veins.

What more did he have up in store for you?

He had already made you squirt without even putting his cock inside of you. He had already made you walk naked with nothing but ropes under your coat in front of innocent strangers. The flashing red light on the dashcam had probably taken multiple photos of you spilling all down your thighs like an untrained animal.

You had nothing left to give him—you were wrought dry. Ran had reached inside of you and scooped up your deepest shame, weaponizing your own pleasure to ensure your downfall if you ever decide to come clean to Makko.

He was disgusting; the scum of the earth.

Those soft footfalls returned, and you were halfway turning around when you felt his hand on your neck.

“I have a gift for you.”

A gift? Before you could verbalise your question, you felt a stiff circle around your neck. Ran moved your hair to the side, fastening it with one click. Then, he tilted your head up, where you caught your own bewildered gaze in the reflective mirrors above, in time to watch him slot a red ball in between your teeth. He strapped it tight enough to smush your cheeks, leaving your mouth uncomfortably stuffed with the taste of rubber.

“Mmh—!”

“Relax,” he cooed. “Do you know what this is?” He didn’t wait for you to answer, chuckling deeply. “It’s a ball gag. Feels strange, right? Like your jaw is stretched wide open. No one will ever hear you scream.”

Fear flashed deep in your core, making you flinch away from him. “Mhm!”

You could barely form words behind the gag, every plea coming out garbled and twisted.

Ran laughed again, his handsome face barely fazed in the reflection of the window. “I’m kidding. Told you I’m not gonna hurt you… not too much, at least.”

He let the threat hang in the air, and left you alone to stew in your thoughts—your body swaying slightly in your bonds. You feared making any sudden moves; if your left leg accidentally gave way or you bent forward too much, you could pull your right hamstring—balanced as you were in such a precarious state.

Chewing on the rubber ball gag in frustration, you eyed your bound body through narrowed eyes. The strip around your neck looked to be made out of leather, and there was something written on it. You struggled to decipher the kanji, and when you finally made it out, you felt like you could’ve burst into an inferno of shame.

Slutty hole for use.

Tears pricked in your eyes, and you flexed your arms overhead, bringing more attention to your heaving tits. Ran, as if he had sensed your distress, returned back, now dressed down in a pair of black sweatpants, half of his dragon tattoo out in the open; pomade-free locks naturally hanging loose around his face.

“Do you like your collar? I had it custom made for you. It’s a gift.” As he spoke, he crept a hand on your waist, kneading your hip. Ran took one look at your sour expression and had to laugh. “Oh, don’t look so angry. At least I didn’t call you a ‘worthless fuckbitch’ didn’t I? I have more class than that, and you are an elegant woman, Y/N. I think ‘slutty hole for use’ suits you, don’t you think?”

You turned your face away, chest heaving in angry shudders.

“Hey—look at me.”

Try as hard as you wanted to defy him, your body’s sudden instinct was to listen to everything he said. You dared to look him in the eye, and if the ball gag weren’t lodged in your mouth, you would’ve worn a twisted glare. Those lilac eyes went soft around the edges, his smirk holding just a twinge of satisfaction from your instant compliance.

“Good girl. You’ve been so good lately, huh? Any more good and I would have to let you cum.”

Your heartbeat tripled in speed, and without a single shred of control, you let slip a soft moan.

“Yeah?” Ran grinned, both hands now on your body, roaming up your back, gliding over your shoulder blades. Every single careless touch left behind a trail of shivers. “I bet you’d like that, huh? How long has it been since you last came—two weeks ago? That paltry squirting in my car barely covered the itch, huh?”

Without a second thought, you nodded. Your brain was filled with cotton, every defence you had left in your arsenal stripped away to leave you broken and vulnerable. Ran descended on your helplessness like a predator to a crippled prey, his grin more knives than teeth. His mouth touched the juncture of your neck, inhaling your perfume like a starved man.

Your eyes rippled closed, and you let out a shaky mewl, feeling his grin grow against your sensitive strip of skin.

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he murmured, nuzzling his face deeper into your neck. “So pretty. Bet you’d cum so nicely for me.”

Large, warm hands caressed your hips, stopping just short of your mound. Brushing his fingers through the soft, downy hair, Ran’s ghost of a chuckle filled your heated ears. “I was wondering how’d this pretty pussy look tattooed with my name.” He smirked, as if the idea itself was downright depraved and enticing. “Why don’t we find out?”

He left your side for the third time tonight, and your soft whine of protest was met with another sardonic laugh. “I’ll be back, slut.” You tongued the rubber ball gag trying to push it out of your mouth, but it was in vain. You twisted in your ropes, shifted your hips, and despite knowing how desperate you looked right now humping the air, you couldn’t help it.

The ropes, the gag, his words… they were piling onto your already taut patience, stoking the heat of desire deep in your lower belly till you felt like you could cry out in frustration. As it was, tears beaded in your lash line, and you tried to wiggle out of the ropes, but barely moved an inch.

“Getting impatient?”

Ran returned, and he held what looked like a pen in his hands. Except when he uncapped it, the familiar scent of dry erase marker wafted straight to your nose, filling you with trepidation. Without another word, Ran got down onto one knee, at eye-level with your pussy. “So pretty,” he cupped your mound, middle finger dangerously close to your clenching hole. You watched, as if in a trance, as he pressed the marker to your pelvis.

Slowly, Kanji started to appear on your skin, the colour contrasting vividly against your tone to stand out in sharp attention.

Ran Haitani’s slut. Needy bitch. Cum in here (with an arrow pointed straight down to your now leaking pussy). On your inner thighs—’lick me’ and ‘bite me’ were playfully written onto your skin.

Your lover (fuck—you didn’t think you would ever refer to a Bonten yakuza executive with such an intimate title), stood back up, his smirk widening at your chagrined expression. The ink itched on your skin as it dried, and he didn’t wait for the words to literally sink in when he moved the marker’s nub to your breasts.

On the plush fat, he painstakingly wrote a number of degrading words you had trouble deciphering through the window’s reflection. But, once their meaning was uncovered, you made a little sound of dissent in the back of your throat.

Whore. Slut. Cumhole. Ran Haitani’s stress reliever. Property of Ran Haitani.

Ran. Ran. You were his—all of his.

I belong to him now, your woozy mind procured. Ran was making his mark on you—literally and figuratively. He was treating you like the scum under his shoe while pushing the biggest orgasm of your life onto your bound, willing body.

It was fucking insane how much it turned you on; to be tied up with such care while a litter of derogatory words blemished your skin. Your brain was slipping into a blissed out, white space—no thoughts existed between a single need to cum, cum, cum.

Ran took one look at you, at the hazy look in your eyes and smiled knowingly. He tossed the marker aside, unbuckling the ball gag, letting you flex your jaw. “I’ll be back,” he murmured, and left you to stew in your humiliation.

I’ve never felt this way before, your eyes slipped closed, breaths coming out in laboured pants past your aching mouth. I have never been this aroused in my life. This feeling was wrong; it was borderline abhorrent. You should be screaming for help, trying to punch the living daylights out of Haitani with your free leg. Not sway from side to side, biting on your lower lip while you tried to staunch the pressing need growing heavier and stronger in between your exposed thighs.

While in the throes of your deepest self-loathing, Ran came back, and you squeaked in surprise at the sheer size of the flesh-toned dildo he held in his grasp. The fucking thing looked entirely too realistic—veins running down the entire length, with a girthy base. Unbidden, your pussy throbbed, but unfortunately, it wasn’t where Ran was planning to use it on you.

“Open up,” he murmured silkily. A strong hand clamped around your neck, and your lips parted on instinct. The taste of silicone invaded your mouth, dripping into the back of your throat. Your gurgled moans resounded throughout the room, drawing a sadistic grin on his placid features. Ran fucked your throat with the dildo, coming close enough to make you gag, but he always pulled back when you started to struggle.

Tears smarted in your eyes, slipping down your cheeks. Your mouth bulged with the weight of the plastic cock, cheeks hallowed and trying your best to deepthroat it. But, you could tell Ran wasn’t impressed.

“Is that the best you can do?” He arched a brow, gazing at you quizzically. “I’m disappointed, Y/N. Your performance is abysmal.”

You were about to spew a colourful insult at him when he stuffed the thick cock back down your throat, easing it up and down your gullet.

“I know you can do better than this,” he cooed, eyeing a trickle of saliva dripping down your chin. He pried the dildo from your mouth, silvery strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to the plastic tip as you gasped and sputtered.

“Ra—unhg.” You choked back on your words as he slid the dildo back into your mouth, shallowly thrusting it from the end of your throat right to the parting of your lips.

“You should see yourself,” Ran whispered, leaning close enough that you could feel his body heat seeping into every inch of your bare skin. “Wearing my collar, decorated in such pretty words, sucking on a thick cock. You’re the very picture of a well-used whore, Y/N.” You dolefully hollowed your cheeks, fighting back the urge to jerk your head back violently and accidentally hurt yourself.

“In fact, I think I need to take a picture of you—hold that for me, will you?” Ran left the dildo dangling from your mouth, and you bit down on it hard to keep the toy from tumbling to the ground in a mess of spit and more of Ran’s disappointment.

With his phone in hand, Ran recorded you, flashlight searing through your eyes as he plucked the dildo out from your mouth. His camera trailed down from your head to toe, starting from your desperate expression, down to the filthy words smeared on your skin and then to your glistening pussy dripping obscenely onto the tiles. He stuffed the fake cock back into your mouth, the camera lens like an obtrusive third eye witnessing your defilement.

The flashlight burned as it trailed onto the eager curve of your mouth taking the dildo down your throat like a good girl. Everytime you gagged, all Ran did was coo softly at you, telling you to breathe in deeply before plundering the well-soaked toy back down your throat. Your body was completely on fire, singing straight from the tips of your hair down to your curling toes.

Every thrust bruised the back of your throat, and you wondered if you could even speak after this.

“Good girl, take this like a champ,” Ran praised, cradling your right breast in one hand, thumb gently circling your stiff nipple. “I should give you my cock after this. It’s longer than this toy. You might hurt yourself.”

The mere thought of Ran’s cock—the abstract idea of him fucking you in any way or form—made your back arch and nipples hard enough to chew. For all of the humiliating things he had done to you, Ran hadn’t yet stuffed his length into either your pussy and mouth.

Why? You thought as you licked the dildo from base to tip, trying to imagine it was his cock. Why would he go through all these lengths only to not give me what I truly want?

You wanted this. You wanted Ran to put his foot right into his smug bastard mouth and fuck you so hard and good, you’d be ruined for your husband. Those thoughts alone were enough to make you clench down on thin air, wishing you had something buried deep into your pussy so you could get yourself off quickly.

“I can see your hips moving,” he observed quietly, eyeing your tight nipples. “And those perky tits—fuck, you’re really getting off to this, huh?”

You gurgled your assent.

“Most women would cry in your position—trust me, I’ve had them do that to me. But, you’re just enjoying every single second. You really are sick in the head—you like being treated like a fucktoy, don’t you?”

Ran pulled the spit-soaked dildo from your mouth, smiling cruelly when you gasped at the sudden loss of cock down your throat, your whines both pitiful and impure.

“Say it,” he mumbled, dangling the toy in front of you like a literal schoolyard bully. “Say: ‘I love being treated like a fucktoy, Daddy’.”

To humiliate you was one thing, but to have you parrot it back to him was downright debasing. You felt your insides pathetically pulse, craving whatever contact Ran was willing to give you—even if it was entirely undignified and injured your ego.

You licked your lips, biting down on the plump lower one as you tried to find the courage to muster up the words. Those lilac eyes seemed to taunt you, glassy and prodding as if saying—are you brave enough to even try?

“I… I love…” you faltered, throat bobbing in nerves. The camera was still pointed at you. Heaving in a breath, you pinned your watery eyes onto the bright light, blinking like a literal doe caught in headlights. “I love being treated like a fucktoy, Daddy.”

If it was even possible, his smile turned even crueller. “Good girl.” Switching off the camera, your entire body sagged forward the second the harsh light was out of your face. Dark spots played around your vision, and you almost missed his featherlight touch on your clit.

Tap, tap, tap. With every deliberate light slap on your swollen nub with his index and middle fingers, Ran made your entire body jolt. You cried out, eyes screwed shut and head thrown back.

“Feels good, huh?” He murmured, spreading his hand across your bare belly, never ceasing his callous slaps onto your poor, denied cunt. “You poor, poor thing. So eager and desperate to cum. Daddy’s been so mean to you, huh? That even slapping this cute little pussy has got you all desperate and needy. Aww.”

“R-Ran—” you choked when he increased the speed and impact, the wet sounds of flesh hitting flesh loud in the electrifying quiet. Your watery eyes pinned onto your reflection—as much as you tried to ignore your crushing need, it seeped through with increasing urgency.

You bit on your lip to focus on not cumming without his permission—but Ran was making it entirely impossible not to.

Every stinging slap went straight to your core, jolting you, turning you delirious. You were close enough that your walls started to spasm, your eyes rolling back into your skull.

“Ran—!”

As if understanding your predicament, he laughed. “Cumming already? Gonna spill all over my hand? I haven’t even fucked you yet. You’re so impatient.”

Every breath you took felt like drops of dew in your lungs, condensing right in front of your parted mouth, each gasp more fervent than the last.

“Ran, Ran, I-I can’t—” you choked off when he clamped one hand around your throat, tipping your head back. His lips hovered over yours, and instead of kissing you like you thought he would, his throat bobbed, and a globe of spit trickled from his open mouth into yours.

You swallowed him down desperately, messily. Opening your mouth for more. And Ran gave it to you.

More trickles of spit flooded your mouth, and his tongue teasingly rimmed your lower lip, making you whine and fester even more in your unending agony. His fingers were now slowly rubbing your clit, focused on edging out your release. You were so close, you felt like you could spontaneously combust.

Swallowing another wad of saliva, your parched body twisted this way and that, aching to find relief or escape from his steady circles on your clit.

“Ran—”

He kissed you this time, sensual and deep, tongue curling with yours, lips tasting of bourbon and sin.

It was enough to completely break your entire resolve.

Every pore in your body tensed, mind going blank with one singular primal instinct rearing through.

Like he could sense your impending release, the slow circles on your clit ceased—your entire world crashing down as the coveted orgasm he stoked for close to two hours dissipated, leaving a gnawing itch in your entire body.

“I think that’s enough for today,” he murmured decisively, unclasping his hand from your throat.

Ran didn’t say a word as you gathered your thoughts, though he did shoot a few meaningful glances at your crushed expression. Ultimately, you couldn’t find your voice, too caught up in the denial trampling all your hopes to form a single coherent thought.

You were livid, sad and disappointed all rolled in one, but if there was one thing you couldn’t refute?

How every single cell in your body unceasingly—unwaveringly—hungered for more of his touch.

Back home, you barely responded to the maids who bowed as you passed them, focused on cleaning up before Makko got back from the office.

You stumbled into the bathroom, hyper aware of the words still written on your body, feeling them branded into your skin. Shrugging off your coat, you were mortified to find those degrading names still latched onto your body, unable to be washed off even with soap and a loofah. With the sleeves of your coat hanging off your arms, you scrubbed at your body, frustrated to find the words barely feathering away.

After minutes of scrubbing until your arms were hurting, you gave up, tipping your head back with a resigned sigh. Once the panic had ebbed away, you decided with grim finality to not let Makko take a look at your naked body until all the words were washed away—which was a feat considering how erratic your husband’s libido could be.

Shuddering at the mental image of his shocked expression when he found another man’s name deep on your body, you shrugged the coat back on, but not before skimming your fingers lightly over some of the words.

The Kanji neatly spelled out your unwilling bond with Ran Haitani, the derogatory actions he committed onto you earlier today flashing through your mind. Your pussy went slick again, the sick moments edging the heat inside of you back into a simpering flame.

Ran’s tongue in your mouth. The scent of dry erase as it appeared on your skin. His fingers on your clit. How tight the ropes felt around your body; how he curved his bigger build around you protectively as you were all tied up and vulnerable for him.

Instinctively, you touched your mound, inching your fingers in between your drenched seam. Finding your clit, you tapped on the swollen bud, feeling the same shocks Ran’s fingers gave you coursing through your body for the second time today. But, it was different from his touch—Ran was rougher. Coarser.

He loved to touch you like he wanted to destroy you.

Your own fingers could never—would never—suffice. As much as it tore you up on the inside, you needed him. You needed Ran to touch you, tease you. It was etched into the bone-deep desire in your deprived body.

Only Ran Haitani could quench this crippling desire coursing through your entire veins.

Only he could put out the fire he started first.

And you were the poor soul hungering for every bit of his heat, yearning to feel his warmth again at the expense of your complete destruction.

“Where are you heading out to?”

Makko’s voice shocked you from your motions of putting on your sunglasses.

The entire mansion was empty today, the maids given a rare time off to celebrate this public holiday. Offices were shut down, and almost every minister took this opportunity to indulge their wives’ whims of flying out to Hokkaido for spa retreats—taking this moment of sparse freedom to rejuvenate their minds and bodies before another arduous week of political campaigning began.

Almost everyone, except for your workaholic husband who refused to entertain the thought of leaving his home office.

So, when Ran had texted you, telling you to come over to his penthouse with nothing but your coat on, who were you to resist the alluring thought of a few moments in pleasurable torture?

You flashed him a sweet smile, nodding towards the door.

“Just running some errands. I’ll be back soon.”

Your husband was a robust man, standing close to 6 feet. His grey speckled hair and stern eyes had once completely enthralled you when you were a young woman still new to the marriage game. But, after years of sticking by his side, feeling stifled to hide the truest version of yourself, you needed a breather.

You needed a brief respite to reveal another side of you which only a certain Bonten executive had seen.

Makko’s brow furrowed, and his lips turned down into a frown. “I thought we were supposed to visit my mom today?”

Shit. You had completely forgotten about your promise to accompany him to Azabu to meet up with your equally snide mother-in-law and Makko’s sister. Plastering on a regretful look, you felt the shards of guilt scrape your bruised conscience.

Ran had to understand. He would know your marriage came first and not this shitty game he was playing with you.

Bowing your head, you exhaled deeply. “Of course. I’m sorry, I forgot. I’ll go get changed and we can visit oka-san today. Just let me cancel my appointment.”

Makko’s lower lip twitched, and he spared you an inscrutable look.

“You’re getting more forgetful lately. And you seem more tired. Is something the matter?”

Without waiting for you to speak, Makko approached you, his large palms spreading out on your hips. Your husband pulled you closer by the waist, and for a split second, you panicked, thinking he would loosen your coat and pull it down only to find that you were already naked underneath it.

The words Ran had written on your body days ago had already faded after numerous rounds of rigorous scrubbing while your husband was at work. But, the guilt and shame still persisted.

You still felt the indelible stain on your skin—tasted the silicone of an impossibly large cock down your throat when you swallowed back on your remorse. Makko was a good man—despite his stolid nature and strict ways, and you didn’t want to hurt him.

His bushy lip grazed your ear, breathing in your perfume.

“Or, are you finally pregnant, my love?”

You felt a jolt go through your entire body at his suggestion. Laughing uneasily, you pried his hands off your waist, fixing him with what you hoped was a sweet, disarming smile. “I would never do anything without your knowledge first, darling, you know that. I’m not pregnant so you have nothing to worry about.”

Makko breathed out deeply, his eyes softening. “Good. I don’t think a baby would be right for us now, yeah? I know my PA said the family man angle would work, but I’m worried about what this means for future campaigns. I can’t run for office fully if I have you at home with a child.”

A child. Not even my baby. Your husband’s callousness would always take you aback, but after years together, you weren’t caught off guard anymore.

Your smile was brittle, as thin as tissue. “I understand. Let me change, and follow you out. We can’t keep your oka-san waiting for us.”

Usually, whenever Rindou appeared at his doorstep, it could only mean two things.

One, he had unfinished business with Bonten that his little brother wanted to talk over.

Or, two—he was in deep, deep shit.

From the look etched in Rindou’s somnolent eyes, Ran guessed it was the latter. Resigning himself to an afternoon of boredom after his favourite toy was busy entertaining her husband’s whims, Ran didn’t anticipate his little brother’s arrival to perk him up.

“And to what do I owe this pleasure, Rin?” Ran’s voice was even, smooth. But, underneath it was a layer of curiosity waiting to be unearthed.

Dressed down in some grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, Rindou tracked his older brother’s face, the purse of his mouth looking off with his usual blase attitude. “Mikey’s orders. Can I come in?”

Ran cocked one lilac brow, but stepped aside for his only brother to enter. “Mikey? He’s not gonna make you lodge a bullet in my brain, right?”

In answer, Rindou shrugged, further agitating Ran. “Depends. Do you have a lighter?”

Tossing Rin his vintage S.T. Dupont, Ran sauntered over to his velvet couch, draping himself on it. Rindou fumbled with a white stick, lighting it up and joining his nii-san on the couch opposite of him.

“Mikey heard something and wanted me to check with you,” Rin murmured past the smoke pouring from his mouth.

Ran laced his fingers together over his crossed knee, tilting his head to one side. “Well? Get it over with. Does he think I’m a traitor or sum’n?”

Truthfully, Ran anticipated Rindou would at least roll his eyes or crack a smile. Not look at his older brother with something like grim curiosity in those similarly hued purple orbs.

“He heard rumours. Of you and the mayor’s wife. Someone saw you two down in Roppongi together. Are you seeing some poli-tick’s missus? You know better than that, nii-chan.”

Rindou was completely serious, his mouth set in a hard frown. How did Ran know? It’s been years since his younger brother called him ‘nii-chan’ and to hear that honorific dripping from Rin’s mouth made Ran feel an iota of shame.

But, instead of admitting to his faults, the older Haitani brother slapped on a grin.

“Give me a second.”

Tapping into his phone, Ran looked like he was casually sending a message. Not a minute to spare later, his text tone went off—confirming Rindou’s suspicion—and a smug smile graced the older man’s lips.

Without giving Rin any context, Ran held out his phone, showing his younger brother an impressive set of tits taken by a woman in front of a fancy, gilded mirror. The seductress in question who had sent his brother that racy picture had great collarbones—dainty and poised even as the sleeves of her modest, silk dress were hanging off her arms. Strangely enough, her face was cut out of the picture, leaving the younger Haitani curious as to who this was.

The smooth, stretch of bare skin topped with perky, suckable nipples, made something in Rindou’s lower gut twitch, but he focused his half-mast eyes to his brother who set his phone down, a bastard grin lighting his expression.

“I’m blackmailing her,” Ran started to explain. “Stupid bitch came to my club trying to make a drug deal with some small fish. I got the photos. She was drunk enough to cream on my fingers so I got those vids, too. And now she does everything I ask of her. With absolutely no hesitation. If she doesn’t, those videos and photos go straight to the mayor’s office. Impressive, right?”

Rindou sat back, blinking rapidly. The cigarette clamped between two fingers was dripping ash onto the ground, neglected by the man who was completely stupified by what his brother had just said.

“So, let me get this straight,” Rindou pieced it together in a slow drawl. “You’re fucking the mayor’s wife, and blackmailing her at the same time? But, what power does she have?”

Ran shrugged, his eyes drifting shut for a split second before they fluttered open. “I don’t know the extent, but let’s find out. I mean, raids have been popping up near our turf lately, and if she can sway Tsunake to focus on Black Dragon territory instead, we might get away free. Also,” Ran added, “I’m not fucking her. She’s my denial slave. Fucking gets off to me being mean to her—you should come by once in awhile when I have her all tied up and dripping. Bet she’d love it.”

Rindou snorted, stubbing out his barely touched cigarette and lighting up another. Pulling in a deep inhale, he puffed out his next callous words with barely any conscious thought. “Mina will fucking kill me. I’m not a manwhore like you, Ran. One woman’s plenty enough of a handful for me.”

At the mention of Rin’s fiancee, Ran shook his head. “So typical of you to be whipped for the first woman who lets you cum all over her face. I guess I raised you wrong.”

“You raised me right,” Rindou countered, running a hand through his fluffy, purple cut. “Mina wants to meet my family. Says it’s about time she claps her eyes on your fugly mug. But, I told her you’re a private guy.”

Ran hummed, stealing one cig from Rindou’s stash on the table. “She’s right,” he spoke through the smoke. “I am incognito. Don’t need any more women throwing themselves at me.”

“Ha fucking ha. I’ll kill you if you ever touch her.”

The older Haitani exhaled a genuine laugh. “Is that how you knew you were in love with her?”

Though the conversation had taken an unexpected turn, Ran knew his brother well enough to sense that any mention of his precious Mina would get his mouth running. Rindou was just whipped like that.

“Nah. Knew I fucked up the moment I looked at her and felt all warm and gooey without riding the high of a nut. Love hits you harder than a motherfucker, Ran. You’ll know when you know.”

Though Ran doubted he would ever look at a woman and feel light-headed unless his balls were thoroughly drained by her, the idea was entertaining enough to consider.

“I want you to meet her one day. Mrs. Tsunake. Maybe if she knew Bonten was real, we could get a bigger deal out of her blackmail.”

Rindou considered it. “Fine. Call me up the next time she’s here. But, she can’t see me or hear me. I don’t want Mina to find out.”

“Deal. Also, you can’t fuck her. My rules. I want my cock to be the first thing she cums on after we hit the one month on her denial training.”

“Denial training? But, what about the husband? You sure she ain’t sneaking around a good nut with him?”

Ran was absolutely confident when he shook his head. “Nah. I would know. Besides, no woman who acts like a bitch in heat the second I touch her would be breaking my rules. Give me more credit—I know how to leash them well.”

At the mention of his brother’s… deeper proclivities… Rindou sighed.

“Fine. What do you want me to tell Mikey, though? He’s waiting for my answer.”

Ran deliberated for a second, flicking more ash onto the mahogany coffee table.

“Tell him this, and tell him this exactly, Rindou—’You don’t have to worry about her, boss. I’ve got it under control. Sumida territory will be ours by next Sunday. You have my fucking word.’”

a/n: ran leash me challenge i would say thank you <3

#🦢 writes #ran x reader #ran smut #ran haitani smut #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani x you #bonten #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev x y/n #series: blackmail kiss

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gracewritesfics · 1 year ago

Text

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Pov: He's your friend's brother.

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Smut, Mature.

"Guys, summer break is about to begin!" Jissa said, "And we'll not be able to meet at school." "Yes," Haejin had a sullen look over her face. "So I was thinking, maybe you guys could come to my place over the weekend?" Jissa suggested and suddenly our faces turned from gloomy to glowing.

The school was off for the rest of one and a half month. The weekend was here. Haejin called me. "Y/n, I'm at Jissa's, when are you coming?" "Will be there in 5min!" I replied.

My mom pulled over the car in front of Jissa's place and saw me off. Jissa, Haejin and I were best friends since middle school. That would be for more than four years. Earlier we were not allowed sleepovers but now we were in high school. And have been friends for so long that our families knew each other.

I rang the doorbell. "I'll get it, I'll get it!" Jissa ran downstairs as she knew I was coming. But someone else opened the door. I was kinda surprised and amazed. He stood in front of me, Jungkook, Jissa's brother. He's grown up so much since last I saw him. I was twelve then and he was sixteen. Ngl, he looked cute even then. After that, he went to Seoul, for high school and college. I knew that much.

Now, I was sixteen and he was twenty. He's so much taller. He had built his body, muscles and everything. He had tattoos in his right arm. He was wearing a sleeveless tee-shirt, exposing his biceps. "Heyy!" I said. "Hi-"

"you're here!" Jissa chuckles excitingly hugging me tight. She always does this, even if we meet after a couple days. Jungkook went back to the living room couch. He was playing some game and having snacks.

"let's go to my room!" Jissa says, breaking my focus from Jungkook.I nod, "sure!" But as I walked, my eyes were fixated on observing how he has changed. He was a man now. We walked from the side through the hallway, and at one point he noticed that I was looking at him, and I turned away. I went upstairs in Jissa's room with her. Haejin was already there.

"Omg, we're all wearing the same colour just a bit different shades," Haejin said excitingly. I was wearing a lavender top with dark purple hearts on it and white shorts. Haejin wore a purple shirt over light pink pants and Jissa, she wore a midy, which too was lilac purple. We were clicking pictures and selfies.

"Guys, I recently bought some make up stuff online. Let's try it!" Jissa said. Basic girl get together stuff. Next two hours we sat there, doing makeup and clicking pictures again.

"Aren't you guys hungry?" Haejin said. "Yes, I am." I said. "Let me get you some snacks." Jissa said. "Wait, we'll come with you. Let's go to the living room. We're sitting here for quite sometime." I said and they both agreed. Actually, my intention was to see Jungkook again. It had been a few hours. And we didn't even get a chance to meet nicely at first. Well, it would be kind of awkward now, if I talked to him. We're not kids anymore.

To my disappointment, Jungkook wasn't there in the living room. Jissa got some snacks from the kitchen and we sat on the same couch. She switches Netflix on the tv. "What you guys wanna watch?" We looked at each other confusedly. "Some Drama?" Haejin asked? "I'm not in the mood for Dramas!" Jissa said.

Suddenly, the door of the room in the hallway opposite to the couch opens up. Jungkook comes out of his room. "What are you guys up to?" He asks in the air walking towards kitchen. "Deciding what to watch!" Jissa replied. "Can't decide?" "Aniyo, do you have any suggestions?" She asked.

"How about a horror movie?" He smirks. Jissa looked at us. Haejin threw her shoulder up. "It's a good idea," I replied. "Okay, then..!" Jissa went to the horror movies section and began searching.

"You know what, I'm joining you guys too." He said. I turned my face to the side and smiled at myself foolishly doing a "yes" with my fist.

Finally, it was decided. We were gonna watch Insidious, second part. As Jissa put the film on, Jungkook turned off all the lights. "Ayoo, wth?" Jissa said. "I'm creating an ambience." He said, "it's gonna be fun."

I was seated on the couch and Haejin sat next to me. Jissa sat on the one chair sofa. And Jungkook, he came and sat on the couch next to me. I looked with wide eyes at him then turned away, looking at the tv screen. I wasn't the scaredy cat type, but yeah when any horrific scene comes, I would be scared and react.

We had kept snacks beforehand. Popcorn, chips, cola, Jungkook had his banana milk. Yeah, he loved that, even as a kid. I remember. Jungkook wasn't scared at all. I could see. And Jissa too, she would react a little. But Haejin, who was sitting next to me, she was hell scared. She would scream in the middle and even make a normal scene scary. She would hug me tight and I tried to free myself.

At one point, a scene came and Haejin screamed. I was terrified. I threw my hand and grabbed something. It was Jungkook's thigh. I looked at him, he looked awkwardly at me. Then I moved my hand away instantly like a current. Well that was awkward. But why am I getting butterflies. His thigh was muscular, stiff. What am I thinking?

Another scary scene comes. Haejin grabbed my hand. I didn't flinch anymore. Did not react. "You're not scared?" Jungkook looked at me. "No.. are you?!" He laughed a little. "Me? Nah!" Just then, Haejin screamed and we all were traumatized. Jungkook grabbed my arm from the side, shrinking. His face was too close to my neck. I could feel his breath.

"Yo, Haejin aah? What was that?" Jissa yelled. Jungkook slowly moved away leaving my arm. He got all awkward, ruffling his hair, looking here and there. Finally the movie ended. Jissa turned on the lights.

"what about the dinner?" She asked jungkook. "Mom's not coming home tonight?" "No she and dad went to grandmother's house." She replied.

"So, then it's just us?" Haejin asked. "Maybe we should order something." Jungkook said.

"Pizza it is" Jissa blurted out excitingly and ordered pizzas.

"When we saw each other last time you were too young," Jungkook said. "You too, you were my age then." I said and he laughed a little. Haejin didn't know Jungkook much. At that time, she didn't visit Jissa's place.

There were times you visited Jissa's house, for Christmas or a birthday party. They were cherish-able times.

"So, you're in college now?" I ask him. "Yep!" He replied. "In Seoul?" He nodded.

Next few minutes, we all had pizzas and talked about everything. Jissa reminded me of the childhood and told stupid stuff about Jungkook to which he argued with her and told something about her. They were chaotic pair of siblings. Now that I remember, maybe I had a thing for Jungkook, even back then. I liked him.

Stop being delusional. He studies in college and lives in Seoul. Also, he's four years older than me. I remind myself. He must have a girlfriend..

As the night fell, Jissa made a mattress bed on the floor. "Who's gonna sleep on the floor?" Haejin asked. "You!" Jissa replied. "No way. Not after you traumatized me with the horror movie. There was space for two on the bed. "I'll be on the mattress!" I said. "Really y/n? It's fine with you?" Jissa asked. "Yeah babe!" I replied. "If there's any problem just wake me up!" "Cool" I said.

Well, it was then, 1 a.m. and I realised it was a bad idea, sleeping on the mattress on the floor, alone. I was thirsty. There was no water in the room. I slowly, got up and walked on my tiptoes. I looked around, it was quite dark. I kept my phone handy and switched the flash on.. looking for water. I went to the kitchen and opened refrigerator, there were bottles. I took one and drank from it.

Suddenly, jungkook, who had gone to the washroom, came out and saw the fridge open. He moved towards it. And as I closed the fridge and the flash was on my face he was terrified. He was going to scream when I grabbed his mouth shut, leaning towards him.

"Jissa and Haejin will wake up!" I mumble in a low voice. He moves your hand from his mouth. "What are you doing here?" He asked. "Drinking water!" I tell him. "You scared me!" He admitted. "I scared you, I thought you were fearless!" I chuckled.

I take a look at him with the light emitted by my phone flash. We were standing too close. He was wearing his boxers and a vest. He was cute and hot at the same time. "I am fearless until someone creeps out of the refrigerator at 1a.m. at night." He said. I laugh.

"Anyway, good night!" He said and began moving away when I stopped him. "Jungkook." He turns around. "I can't sleep." "Why?" He asked. "I am scared. And I can't sleep on the mattress on the floor, alone!" I told. "Then ask Jissa to exchange places." He suggests. "I don't want to wake her up."

"Then, what do you want to do?" He asked. "I don't know." I said. "Sleep on the couch!" He said. "I told you I'm scared." I said. "So then what? Huh! Do you want to sleep with me or what?" He asked, probably joking. "Yes!" I said, seriously. "What?!!" He was suddenly too awake. Before that he was kinda sleepy. "What'd you just say?"

"Forget it!" I said. He held my wrist. Pulling me back. "Are you serious?" He asked. "About what?" "About what you said earlier." "What did I say?" I acted fool. "That you want to sleep with me!" He blurted out directly. "I said that?" I raised an eyebrow. "Yes I heard it!" He said grabbing my arms by the side..

His chest was rising and falling. I felt the tension. I had provoked him.. he was breathing heavily. "Maybe you heard it right!" i winked. That was it. Guys are easy to melt, like candle, just light a little match and touch the candle with it and it would melt in hot wax.

He was very close, a few inches away, so I planted a soft kiss on his cherry lips. As I moved away he got impatient. He leaned again and pulled me in a deep passionate kiss. He slowly moved me towards the couch. There was no light. I fell on the couch and he fell upon me.

He was literally so nervous, I could feel his breath from inches away. "Are you like... virgin?" I ask him. "No I'm not.. but you are, aren't you?" He asks. I bite my lower lip. "Yes!"

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I ask. "Why? You want to be my girlfriend?" "Answer me first" I say. "No, I'm single, since a year." "That's why you're so desperate!" I said. "I'm desperate? You literally said you want to sleep with me!" He said.

"I was just kidding." I say. "Well, I'm not." He said and picked me up from the couch and walked towards his room. He dropped me on his bed. "Fyi, I'm still sixteen!" I remind him.

"And hot!" He said, "you've grown up too. I noticed. You have curves now." I can't breathe. Holy shit. He takes off his vest. He's got abs. His shoulders are broad. He's a man. Drop dead gorgeous man. I'm gonna die.

He lays on top of me, shirtless. Only in his boxers. And he kisses me. So deep. Our tongues intertwined. I breathe him in with every single breath.

He kisses my neck wet. He gestures me with his eyes to remove the top. I close my eyes in hesitation but I take it off. "You're 16 but you're a woman. Hotter than girls in their twenties! I swear babe!" He says and i shy away. He engraves his face in my cleavage and i laugh because it's ticklish.

He puts his hand beneath and unhooks my bra. I'm shook. I hold my hand in front of me as he removes it. "Move your hands babygirl!" He says but i don't. He pins my hands against the bed with one hand. "Remember, I don't need two hands to handle you, I'm strong enough!"

"Sure.. Daddy!" I said. He chuckled uncontrollably. He's literally laughing. "Say that again!" "Daddy?!"

He kisses me, I can't breathe. He unbuttons my shorts and few seconds later I'm in front of him, completely exposed. "May I?" He asks. "sure as hell"

"why me?!' he asked. "what!?" "why are you losing your virginity on me?" He asked. "Cause you're hot, now stfu, and fuck me!" I blurted out. "You drive me crazy!" He fingers me and finds out that I'm so wet already. He slides himself inside me slowly and I am about to scream but he grabs my mouth. "They're gonna wake up " he said.

I whimper under his hand on my mouth. "If it hurts let me know!" He loosens his grip on my mouth. And I sigh. He moves faster. I can't scream but only gasp for air and moan, not too loud. "Say my name"

"Jungkook!" I gasp. "Not that one, babygirl!" "Daddy!" I whisper in his ear. "A little louder, let me hear!" He said as he continues stroking me. "Daddy!" I say.

Next morning, thankfully, I returned upstairs in my outfit before anyone woke up. As we sit for breakfast, I couldn't stop smiling and I hide my face. I can't bare to look at Jungkook.

"Maybe you guys should do these get-togethers more often!" Jungkook said to Jissa. "I mean, last night was fun. The movie."

"We can do this all summer!" Jissa said. Omg I can't with him. "You guys, you can come over again next weekend?" She asked.

"Why weekend, it's not like you have school, you can come anytime." Jungkook said. And secretary winked at me. Fuck him. What a tease!

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