#happy pride (tormenting you all)

[noisetwister]

"I'll kill you... I'll kill you... I'll kill you..."

an ms paint asuka for you all. click for high res!

[aesthetically-dying101]

Trainwreck

A/N: *sighs* can you guys guess who i wrote for? yes its nanami

warnings: innapropriate workplace behavior (this is all so unrealistic pls), thats mostly it, maybe a bit OOC? idk obsessive behavior, lowkey creepy

Nanami Kento prides himself on being a man of structure. He clocks in at 8:00 AM sharp, organizes his desk with ruthless efficiency, and approaches every task with a quiet, burning determination. But recently—recently, you’ve ruined him.

Completely, utterly ruined him.

You’re not even his boss. No, you’re her secretary. Just the secretary, really.

A pleasant smile in the hallway, the click of heels passing by his office door. You’re always polite, professional. Efficient. And yet, you’ve utterly dismantled every ounce of his composure.

He notices everything about you.

He notices too much.

The way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you're focused, the faint scent of your perfume (something floral but not cloying, clean and perfect). The way you laugh softly with the receptionist when you think no one is listening.

God, you never wear a wedding band.

He’s looked.

He’s ashamed of how often he’s looked.

He hates himself for it—hates the way his chest tightens when he hears your voice. Hates the way his thoughts stray in the quiet moments of the day, imagining what it would be like if you looked at him the way he looks at you.

But you barely notice him.

At least, that’s what he tells himself. Why would you? He’s just another cog in the machine, another suit with no significance beyond his output.

Nanami lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s supposed to be working, but instead, he’s replaying that moment from earlier today: the way you’d popped into the breakroom, looking fresh and radiant in that blouse that he’s now convinced was designed to torment him.

“Oh, hi, Nanami,” you’d said, smiling at him as you poured yourself a cup of coffee. It had been such a simple, innocent thing. And yet, his brain had short-circuited.

“Morning,” he’d managed, stiff and awkward, and he’s sure you noticed. God, why did his voice sound so clipped?

“You doing okay? You looked a little stressed in the meeting earlier.”

And that had really done it. Your concern—casual, effortless—had hit him like a freight train. He could barely stammer out a reply before you were gone, leaving him standing there, coffee untouched, his heart doing somersaults in his chest.

He wants to believe he’s subtle about it, but he knows better. He’s not subtle. Not when he hangs back in the breakroom just to hear you chatting with someone, filing away every detail like the pathetic little moth he is, hopelessly drawn to your flame.

“Yeah, no, I’m just focusing on work right now,” you’d said once, when someone asked if you had any plans for the weekend. No mention of a boyfriend. No hint of anyone waiting for you at home.

It shouldn’t matter, and yet it feels like the cruelest kind of hope, igniting in his chest despite himself.

Nanami leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He’s disgusting. Obsessed. You’re probably not even aware of his existence beyond the bare minimum. Why would you be? You’re smart, funny, stunning—and he’s just him. Dull. Predictable. The kind of guy women settle for when they’re tired of the fireworks.

But oh, if you ever gave him the chance. If you so much as glanced in his direction with anything resembling interest, he’d fall to his knees. Worship you. Do anything to make you happy.

It’s humiliating. The longing, the yearning, the ache.

And yet he can’t stop.

His thoughts spiral as the hours drag on, oscillating between bitterness and hope. He tells himself to stop—orders himself to focus—but his mind keeps circling back to you.

Always you.

The end of the day finally comes, and as he’s gathering his things, he hears the soft sound of your voice drifting from the hallway.

“Night, Nanami!”

You wave as you pass, the gesture casual but bright enough to light up the entire goddamn floor.

“Goodnight,” he replies, quieter than he means to. His hand tightens on his briefcase.

You disappear around the corner, and Nanami stays frozen for a moment, staring at the space where you’d been.

*-*

It’s Christmas in the office.

The annual “holiday celebration,” a thinly veiled excuse for everyone to slack off in the name of festivity. Nanami hates it—or at least he wants to hate it. Forced camaraderie, cheap decorations, music that grates on his nerves. It’s the kind of chaos he typically avoids.

But then you walk in, and every ounce of self-discipline he’s built over the years shatters into irreparable pieces.

The pencil skirt.

The goddamn Christmas-colored pencil skirt. It’s shorter than usual, clinging to your hips in a way that feels engineered to destroy him. The matching blouse, festive but just tight enough to drive him completely fucking insane.

It’s not fair.

You’re smiling as you step into the breakroom, chatting with a coworker, utterly oblivious to the wreckage you’re leaving in your wake.

Nanami’s pulse spikes. His gaze darts away, but the image of you is already seared into his brain, lingering like a bad habit.

He adjusts his tie, swallowing hard. Don’t be a creep. Don’t be a fucking creep. But then his eyes flick back, just for a second, and—oh no. Oh no, no, no.

His pants feel too tight.

He grits his teeth, clenching his jaw as he fumbles with a stack of papers on his desk. His hands tremble slightly. He’s mortified, but there’s no stopping it. Not when his traitorous brain is already spinning, conjuring images he really shouldn’t be entertaining in the middle of the office.

Images of you. That skirt riding up higher, your thighs bare beneath his hands. The sound of your laughter softening into breathless gasps. The way your lips would feel against his skin—

Nanami bolts.

He mutters something vague about needing a minute to no one in particular and beelines for the bathroom. The fluorescent lights are harsh as he leans against the sink, gripping the porcelain edge like it’s the only thing tethering him to sanity.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he hisses to his reflection. His tie feels like a noose around his neck.

He splashes cold water on his face, but it doesn’t help. Not when every time he blinks, he sees you. The soft curve of your waist, the way your hair catches the light.

Pathetic. He’s fucking pathetic. You’re just trying to celebrate the holidays like everyone else, and here he is, locked in the bathroom, wrestling with his own shameless thoughts.

The worst part—the absolute worst part—is that it’s not just the dirty shit. Oh, no. His brain is crueler than that.

He imagines quiet mornings with you. You in his kitchen, wearing one of his shirts, smiling at him over a mug of coffee. Your hand brushing his as you pass him a plate, the warmth of your touch lingering long after.

It’s insidious. It’s relentless. It’s everything he doesn’t deserve, and yet he wants it so badly he feels like he might choke on it.

Nanami drags a hand down his face, letting out a groan that echoes in the empty bathroom.

She doesn’t even notice you, idiot.

He stays there longer than he should, collecting himself—or trying to. Eventually, he straightens his tie, squares his shoulders, and forces himself to return to his desk.

But when he passes by the breakroom again, you’re laughing, radiant, and he knows this torture is far from over.

*-*

Nanami doesn’t mean to eavesdrop.

Really, he doesn’t.

But it’s impossible not to overhear you when you’re in the breakroom, talking to someone about the bouquet on the receptionist’s desk.

“Oh, these are lovely,” you say, your voice light and cheerful. “But if I had to pick, I’ve always been more into bold flowers. Red dahlias, spider lilies, roses—things like that. Dark, dramatic colors. They’re so beautiful.”

Nanami freezes in the hallway, a stack of files in his hands. His heart does this stupid little stutter, the same one it always does when he hears your voice. But now it’s worse because his mind is spinning with the image of you holding a bouquet like the one you’ve just described.

Red dahlias, spider lilies. The thought of you cradling those flowers, smiling at them, smiling because of him—he has to physically shake his head to clear it.

He’s pathetic.

He knows he’s pathetic. He clenches the files tighter, willing himself to keep walking, but the image won’t leave him.

Over the next few days, he thinks about it more than he wants to admit. He imagines walking into a flower shop, carefully selecting each bloom, making sure they’re perfect. He imagines handing the bouquet to you, watching your face light up—

And then he imagines the aftermath. You smiling politely, awkwardly thanking him, wondering why the hell one of your coworkers is giving you flowers.

No.

He can’t do it. It’s wildly inappropriate. He’s already teetering on the edge of unprofessionalism just by thinking about you like this.

But then, one quiet afternoon in the office, he hears you mention your birthday in passing.

“Oh, it’s in a month or so,” you say, laughing softly. “I don’t usually do much for it, though. Just a quiet day, you know?”

Nanami marks the date down the second he gets back to his desk. He feels like a creep for it, but the thought of letting the day pass without acknowledgment feels unbearable.

He’s spent weeks overthinking this, debating whether or not he should go through with it. But as he stands outside the florist that morning, the door handle cold in his hand, he decides he can’t let it go.

He picks each flower carefully: crimson dahlias with velvety petals, a few spider lilies that curl dramatically, and deep red roses. It’s a small bouquet—not too extravagant, just enough to feel thoughtful.

By the time he gets to the office, his palms are clammy, and he feels like he might actually pass out.

He doesn’t give it to you right away. He waits until the middle of the day, when the office is quieter and most people are out at lunch. He finds you at your desk, bent over some papers, your hair falling slightly into your face.

“Excuse me,” he says, his voice more formal than he intended.

You look up, blinking in surprise, and when your eyes land on the bouquet in his hands, they widen slightly.

“I, uh—” He clears his throat, trying not to fumble. “I overheard that it was your birthday today. Happy birthday.”

You take the bouquet slowly, your expression shifting from surprise to something softer—something warmer.

“Oh my gosh, Nanami, these are gorgeous,” you say, holding the flowers close to your chest. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“It’s nothing,” he replies quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide how much they’re trembling. “Just… thought you’d like them.”

“I love them.” Your smile is radiant, and for the first time, he feels like he might actually be able to breathe again.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice sincere.

He nods, forcing himself to meet your gaze for just a moment.

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs, before quickly retreating to the safety of his desk.

But that's what happens in his mind, in his fantasy... in reality, he simply left those at your desk while you were in a meeting, though he did hear you gasp when you saw them.

As he sits at his desk, his heart pounding, he allows himself a small, private smile. For once, his yearning doesn’t feel quite so pathetic.

*-*

Nanami doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. Again. But it’s impossible not to hear you when your voice floats down the hallway like that, soft and full of joy.

The bouquet sits proudly on your desk, vibrant reds catching the fluorescent light, and you’re standing nearby, talking to another employee.

“I still can’t believe it,” you’re saying, your tone carrying this sweet mix of wonder and delight. “No one’s ever done something like this for me before. It’s just… so thoughtful, you know?”

Nanami, passing by with his usual quiet efficiency, freezes mid-step. His breath hitches in his throat.

“I mean, look at them,” you continue, gesturing to the flowers. “They’re perfect. Whoever picked these out really put a lot of thought into it.” You laugh softly, a sound that makes his chest ache. “I’m not even sure how they knew these are my favorites.”

He stands there, rooted to the spot, his pulse roaring in his ears.

She’s talking about me. She’s talking about me.

He feels ridiculous for the way his stomach twists, for the heat creeping up his neck. A grown man shouldn’t feel this way, shouldn’t feel this weak, over a few kind words. But goddammit, he can’t help it.

The idea that you’re gushing about something he did, that he made you happy, even for a moment—it’s enough to undo him completely.

“Whoever it was,” you add, your voice softening, “it’s just… it really made my day. Probably my whole week, honestly.”

Nanami swallows hard, clutching his briefcase like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His emotions are a mess—a chaotic tangle of pride, relief, and something deeper, something that makes his throat feel tight.

He knows he should walk away. He shouldn’t linger here, shouldn’t keep listening like some lovesick fool. But he’s stuck, trapped by the sound of your voice and the warmth in your words.

When he finally moves, it’s with a heaviness in his chest that he can’t quite define. He makes his way back to his desk, sitting down and staring blankly at his computer screen.

*-*

Weeks bleed together in the monotony of office life, except for the moments where Nanami lets himself carve out little spaces of joy—tiny gestures that go unnoticed by most but feel monumental to him.

It starts with a single chocolate, placed carefully on the corner of your desk one morning before you arrive. Just a small thing, barely bigger than his thumb, wrapped in shiny foil. He doesn’t linger to see your reaction. He couldn’t stomach it, not when he knows he’d fold in on himself if you so much as tilted your head in confusion.

But the next day, you’re chatting with the receptionist, that same soft laugh spilling from your lips.

“It’s so weird,” you’re saying, holding the empty wrapper in your fingers. “I found this little chocolate on my desk yesterday. I don’t know who left it, but it was sweet. Made my morning, honestly.”

Nanami ducks his head, pretending to be engrossed in the stack of reports he’s holding, but inside, he’s practically vibrating. She noticed. She noticed.

He tells himself to stop, to leave it there, but he doesn’t. He can’t. The yearning is too big, too loud, and it demands an outlet, however small.

After a grueling conference one afternoon, he slips a bottle of chilled water onto your desk when you step away. Nothing extravagant—just a quiet act of care. You’re gone for no more than a minute, but when you return, you blink down at the bottle, tilting your head in that way he finds unfairly adorable.

“Huh,” you murmur, glancing around. “Did someone leave this?”

You shrug, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip, and Nanami has to fight the urge to look away too quickly, lest anyone catch the faint pink blooming across his cheeks.

It’s pathetic.

The way he lives for these small moments, like a man stranded in a desert, savoring droplets of water. Every tiny gesture, every unnoticed offering, feels like a prayer he’s too afraid to voice aloud.

He notices everything about you. How you seem to perk up on Friday afternoons, your shoulders relaxing as you chat about weekend plans. How you wrinkle your nose just slightly when you’re concentrating. How you hum under your breath when you think no one’s listening—a soft, tuneless sound that drives him to distraction.

He doesn’t need grand gestures. He doesn’t want them. He just wants to make your days a little brighter, even if you never know it’s him.

And god, does he yearn.

He daydreams when he shouldn’t, his thoughts slipping away from spreadsheets and into fantasies that make his chest ache. He imagines brushing your hair back from your face, the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips. He imagines quiet evenings, your laughter filling the silence of his apartment. He imagines the weight of your head on his shoulder as you drift off to sleep.

And sometimes—sometimes, when he’s alone, when the ache feels unbearable—he lets himself imagine things he shouldn’t. Things that make his heart race and his breath catch and leave him staring at his own reflection in shame after.

But he never acts on it. Never says a word. Instead, he keeps leaving his little tokens: a coffee cup placed carefully on your desk when he overhears you complain about a late night, a pack of your favorite pens after you mention running out.

You smile every time, and though you never suspect him, that’s enough. It has to be enough.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

*-*

You’re not an idiot.

No, you may be a little dense sometimes, but you’re not stupid. Someone has been leaving you small, thoughtful little gifts over the past few weeks.

And you have absolutely no idea who it is.

It started innocently enough—chocolate on your desk one morning. You didn’t think much of it at first, but then it kept happening. A bottle of water after a long conference, a cup of coffee after a particularly brutal meeting. At first, you thought maybe it was just a mistake, someone leaving things around and not realizing it was yours. But no, they were always right where you’d find them. Right when you needed them.

It’s sweet. Really sweet. But it's also starting to annoy the ever-living shit out of you because, for the life of you, you can’t figure out who’s doing it.

You’ve spent the past few days trying to narrow it down, your brain doing mental gymnastics over every damn interaction you’ve had at work. And frankly? You’re getting tired of it.

“Alright, let’s break this shit down,” you mutter to yourself as you sip your second cup of coffee of the day, pretending to focus on an email.

Option one: Your boss.

Ha. Right. She’s too busy scheduling her hair appointments to think about leaving chocolates on anyone’s desk. Plus, she’s got the whole “I don’t care if you live or die” attitude, so yeah, not her.

Option two: Kevin from accounting.

Kevin’s an idiot. A well-meaning idiot, but still. He’s the type to forget the coffee in the breakroom and then call it “the best thing ever” for two hours, as though anyone cares about his “discovery.” You’re not buying that.

Option three: That one guy from marketing, Tom.

You nearly burst into laughter just thinking about it. Tom’s an over-caffeinated golden retriever in a human’s body. He’s the type of guy who thinks sending a “Hey, just wanted to check in!” email twice a day is “checking in” on people. He probably couldn’t even remember to get a chocolate from a store, let alone leave it at your desk.

Option four: Nanami.

You pause mid-sip, blinking rapidly. Nanami? The quiet guy from finance? The one who barely says more than a handful of words in a meeting?

Now that’s an intriguing thought. He’s always… there. Always around, like a quiet shadow, observing. Sure, he’s not exactly filling the room with energy, but there’s something there, right? Something beneath that perfectly structured exterior.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. No way. That’s ridiculous.

But then you think about it. Nanami’s the type of guy who doesn’t get distracted by office chaos. He’s methodical. Focused. The guy who lives on routine. He’d be the one to sneakily notice when someone’s overworked and needs a small pick-me-up. He’s just... quiet about it.

But then again, who leaves water bottles, chocolates, and coffee? It’s not like he’s ever said anything about it. Not a single “hey, I thought you might like this,” or anything remotely close to an acknowledgment. Hell, he doesn’t even smile much.

God, he’s so damn mysterious it makes your head spin.

You glance over at his desk. There he is—quiet, as usual. Focused, pretending the world isn’t falling apart around him.

It could be him.

But no. You shake your head, dismissing the thought immediately. He’s not the type. Right?

It’s just… weird. And you’re not even sure why it feels so weird. Maybe it’s just the fact that you’ve got a secret admirer at work, which is fucking hilarious because it sounds like something out of a shitty rom-com you wouldn’t even watch if someone paid you.

"God, I’m going insane," you mutter under your breath, checking your watch. "Seriously. Who the hell is doing this?"

*-*

It took weeks.

Weeks of small gestures.

You’ve figured it out.

It took some careful observation, a bit of deduction, and honestly, a lot of staring at Nanami when he wasn’t looking. But there’s no doubt in your mind now. The quiet, stoic, almost painfully composed man from finance—the one who always has his tie perfectly in place and whose voice could melt butter—he’s your secret admirer.

And oh, it’s delicious.

At first, you weren’t sure. Nanami wasn’t exactly the type to scream “hopeless romantic” or even “mildly interested.” But the more you watched him, the more obvious it became. The way his eyes linger on you just a second too long, the way he tenses when you get too close, the way he seems to disappear right after you find something thoughtful left at your desk.

You caught him once, hovering near the break room as you raved to a coworker about the flowers. He didn’t say a word, but the way he froze mid-step, his jaw tightening ever so slightly? Yeah. That was all the confirmation you needed.

And honestly? You’re thrilled.

Nanami’s hot. Not just conventionally attractive, but smart-hot, the kind of guy who could ruin you with a PowerPoint presentation and a sharp comment about fiscal responsibility. He’s also maddeningly composed, which makes you want to poke at him, see what’s underneath that calm, collected exterior.

So, naturally, you decide to fuck with him.

Just a little.

You can feel the tension building in the air as you move through your day, the little comments, the subtle glances. Nanami’s still trying to play it cool, but it’s clear. He’s a mess. You can see it in the way his eyes dart away when they linger on you a second too long. You can hear it in his voice when he answers you—a little too stiff, a little too forced.

So, you decide to push him.

You start small. Little things. Nothing too obvious, just a few well-placed gestures to see how far you can take him before he finally snaps.

You walk past his desk, and you’re definitely not trying to make sure your skirt hugs your hips just right. You bend over just so to grab a file from your bag, letting him get a full, uninterrupted view of your cleavage.

You’re certain he’s trying not to look—hell, you can practically feel him forcing his eyes up to the ceiling, but you know. You know he’s been watching.

When you straighten up, you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s gripping his pen like it’s a lifeline, his knuckles pale, and his jaw is tight. You smirk, leaning in just a little closer.

“Need something, Nanami?” you ask, the words dripping with an edge of playful mischief.

He swallows, clearly doing everything in his power to maintain his usual stoic expression. “No,” he replies, too quickly, voice clipped. “I’m fine.”

You laugh lightly, keeping the tension alive as you pull away. You can practically feel the heat radiating off him. Oh, this is too good.

You don’t stop there, though. No, you want to see how much he can handle.

The next day, you make sure to wear a skirt that’s just a little tighter, just a little shorter than usual. The fabric clings to you in all the right ways, and when you walk past Nanami’s desk, you make sure to let your hip brush against the edge of his desk, just lightly enough to catch his attention.

As you bend down to grab a report from the printer, you give him the tiniest, most casual look over your shoulder. You’re sure you catch the way his eyes flicker down to your legs before he quickly looks away. Gotcha.

You straighten up, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you walk back past him, barely stopping yourself from humming in satisfaction when you feel his gaze linger on the curve of your back.

It’s all too easy.

And now? Now it’s time to turn it up a notch.

You’ve been toying with him for days now, watching as he stiffens every time you get a little too close, testing how much he can take before his composure cracks. You see the way his breath catches when you “accidentally” brush your arm against his as you pass by. He doesn’t say a word, but you know. You can see it in the way his eyes flash with something darker, something needy, before he shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

You know what you’re doing to him.

And you’re fucking loving it.

*-*

For two weeks, you’ve been shamelessly pushing Nanami to his limits.

You flirt, you linger, you brush your hand against his arm just a little too long, your skirts are shorter, tighter—designed to test the boundaries of his sanity.

And he notices.

Oh, he notices.

But what you don’t see is what’s going on beneath that perfectly calm, stoic exterior.

Because Nanami is losing his fucking mind.

Every look, every casual touch, every time you lean just a little too close—it’s like pouring gasoline on the fire inside him. He’s never been this affected by anyone, and now it feels like he’s constantly teetering on the edge of a cliff.

He tries—he really does—to keep his composure. He’s a professional, damn it. A man of control and discipline. But you? You’re unraveling him piece by piece.

*-*

She knows. Oh, God, she fucking knows. Why is she looking at me like that? Is she doing this on purpose? She’s doing this on purpose. That skirt—did it get shorter? That’s not appropriate for the office, right? Should I say something? No. No, shut up, you idiot. Just focus on your work. She’s walking toward you. Act normal. Act—

“Hey, Nanami, could you help me with something?” you ask, your voice sweet, with just the faintest hint of teasing.

His throat goes dry. He looks up, forcing his expression to remain neutral, professional. “Of course. What do you need?”

You lean closer, your hand brushing his shoulder as you point to your tablet. “I can’t figure out this formula. Can you show me?”

He doesn’t miss the way your perfume lingers in the air, soft and floral, and it’s driving him mad.

“Sure,” he says, his voice even, betraying nothing of the way his heart is hammering in his chest.

But inside? He’s screaming.

*-*

This is a problem. She’s doing it on purpose. She has to be. That look she gave me this morning? That wasn’t casual. No, that was calculated. She’s testing me, trying to see how far I’ll go. Does she know how much I—

He can’t even finish the thought. Because the truth is, his daydreams are becoming increasingly inappropriate, increasingly desperate.

He imagines you sitting on his lap in his office chair, your arms draped around his neck as you laugh at something he said. He imagines kissing you—soft at first, then deeper, more passionate, until he’s completely lost in you. He imagines everything he wants to do to you, and it’s enough to make him clench his fists under his desk, trying to hold himself together.

*-*

One afternoon, you’re standing next to his desk, going on about some report, and he can’t take it anymore. You’re wearing a dress that hugs you in all the right places, and the way you’re looking at him, with that mischievous little glint in your eye—it’s too much.

“Enough,” he says, his voice low, controlled.

You blink, taken aback. “What?”

He stands, towering over you, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed on yours. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?” you ask, feigning innocence, though the slight curve of your lips betrays you.

“This,” he says, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “The teasing. The looks. The... whatever this is. If you’re trying to drive me insane, congratulations. You’ve succeeded.”

You grin, your eyes sparkling. “Oh? And what are you going to do about it?”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second, then takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’m going to ask you on a date.”

Your grin widens, and you cross your arms, leaning in just slightly. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” he says firmly, his confidence unwavering now. “Saturday. Seven o’clock. I’ll pick you up.”

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, and he feels his chest tighten all over again.

“Okay, Nanami. You’ve got yourself a date.”

*-*

The date is perfect.

Nanami shows up at your door precisely at seven, looking sharp in a navy suit and holding a small bouquet of red dahlias—your favorite. Dinner is a mix of light conversation and laughter, the two of you falling into an easy rhythm that feels like you’ve known each other forever.

When he walks you back to your apartment, the air between you is warm, charged with something unspoken.

“Want to come up?” you ask, your voice soft, your eyes searching his.

He hesitates for half a second before nodding. “Yes.”

*-*

Your apartment is cozy, filled with little touches that are unmistakably you. Nanami takes it all in—your bookshelves, your mismatched throw pillows, the faint scent of vanilla in the air.

But then you’re there, standing close to him, your eyes meeting his, and everything else fades away.

The first kiss is tentative, a soft meeting of lips that quickly deepens as he pulls you closer, his hands resting on your waist. You sigh against him, your fingers threading through his hair, and he groans softly, losing himself in the warmth of you.

“Nanami,” you murmur, pulling back just enough to catch your breath.

“I hate you,” he says, his voice low, a teasing smile playing at his lips.

You laugh, your forehead resting against his. “Do you?”

“Yes,” he whispers, pressing another kiss to your lips. “I hate the way you consume my thoughts. I hate the way you make me feel so... so...”

“Alive?” you offer, grinning.

“Exactly,” he murmurs, kissing you again, slower this time, like he’s savoring the moment.

Before things can go further, your cat jumps onto the couch, meowing loudly, and you both break apart, laughing.

“Excuse me,” Nanami says, his voice soft but firm as he picks up the cat and carries it to another room. “We need privacy.”

When he returns, you’re still laughing, but he silences you with another kiss, his hands cradling your face.

Between kisses, he whispers things that make your heart ache in the best way.

“You drive me crazy... but I don’t want it to stop. You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”

By the time the night ends, you’re both a mess of tangled limbs and whispered confessions, and for the first time in weeks, Nanami feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

A/N: sorryyy, this might be ooc for him? im unsure...

Masterlist.

:)

[geneviveleocardius]

silco and his way of loving you

my man

silco is a man of plans and ambition, but when it comes to you, everything else takes a backseat. you are his exception, the one person he trusts entirely.

if anyone threatens you, silco’s rage is terrifying. he’s a man who built a criminal empire; he knows how to destroy enemies utterly and ruthlessly. for you, he wouldn’t hesitate to dismantle all of it.

silco ensures your safety with meticulous planning. from hidden bodyguards to secure safehouses, you might not even realize how many layers of protection he’s arranged for you.

silco isn’t the type to shower you with grand romantic gestures. instead, his love is shown in the little things: making sure you have everything you need, fixing things before you even know there’s a problem, and quietly watching over you when you’re vulnerable.

silco is not overly physical, but when you’re alone, he’ll let his guard down. a hand on your lower back, fingers brushing against yours, or his thumb tracing your jaw when he cups your face—these moments mean everything coming from him.

at night, when the stress of the day fades, he’ll let his mask slip. silco holds you close, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin as he whispers plans and dreams only meant for you to hear.

his sharp tongue spares no one, not even you, but there’s an unmistakable fondness in his teasing. he loves when you fire back, and the smirk that plays on his lips tells you he’s impressed by your wit.

silco has a knack for giving you nicknames that sound mocking but secretly melt his heart. whether it’s “darling,” “my torment,” or “trouble,” there’s always a hint of affection in his tone.

silco is a master of manipulation, but with you, there’s no need for pretense. you see the parts of him no one else does: the man who doubts, aches, and dreams. in you, he’s found someone he can truly rely on.

when the world feels like it’s pulling him into the abyss, you’re the one who keeps him grounded. he might be zaun’s eye, but you’re his anchor.

you’re the only person who sees the rare moments of guilt or pain flicker across his face. when his walls come down, he doesn’t speak much, but the way he clings to you says everything.

silco has no issue getting his hands dirty, but when it comes to you, he’ll even set aside his pride if it means making you happy. whether it’s something as small as an apology or something as monumental as changing his plans, he’ll do it for you.

silco is fiercely possessive, but he trusts you enough not to smother you. still, the way his sharp gaze lingers on anyone who gets too close is enough to send most people running.

silco may not be one for flowery words, but when he tells you, “you’re mine,” it’s a vow that carries more weight than any traditional declaration of love.

being loved by silco means being the most precious thing in a dangerous world. his love is intense, consuming, and unyielding—but with it comes a promise that you’ll never face anything alone.

silco’s love is quiet but intense, like a slow-burning fire. he isn’t the type to shout his feelings or wear his heart on his sleeve, but everything he does is for you. he shows his love through actions—ensuring your comfort, solving your problems before you even know they exist, and always putting you first.

he respects your independence but always watches out for you from the shadows. his way of saying “i love you” is often subtle: a rare, vulnerable gaze held a moment too long, or a quiet “stay safe” that carries more weight than any grand declaration.

silco’s kisses are measured and intense, like he’s savoring every second. he doesn’t rush, letting the moment linger as if nothing else exists.

in private moments of tenderness, he’ll press a soft kiss to your forehead, his way of silently promising to protect you.

he loves to tease you with playful, possessive nips during a kiss, a reminder of the passion simmering beneath his calm exterior.

he has a habit of kissing the sensitive spot just below your ear when he wants to make you melt, his voice low as he murmurs something teasing or affectionate.

silco thrives on making your life easier. whether it’s handling a problem you didn’t want to deal with or silently taking care of something before you even notice it, he shows his love through his competence and reliability.

though his life is busy and chaotic, he always carves out time for you. these moments are sacred to him, whether it’s sitting in comfortable silence or talking late into the night.

while he isn’t overly expressive, silco’s words, when he chooses to speak, carry immense weight. he knows exactly how to reassure you, lift you up, or show his admiration with sharp, carefully chosen phrases.

he loves the way your hands feel in his—smaller, softer, yet steady. he’ll hold your hand under the table during tense meetings or brush his fingers over yours in quiet moments, finding comfort in the connection.

silco is intense but never reckless. he approaches intimacy with the same deliberate care he applies to everything else, making sure you feel adored and completely satisfied.

he knows every inch of your body and every reaction you have. nothing escapes his notice, and he takes his time learning exactly what makes you feel good.

silco likes to take control, but he’s not harsh—he’s commanding, confident, and endlessly patient. he makes you feel safe while igniting a fire you didn’t know existed.

intimacy is one of the few times he allows himself to be completely unguarded with you. his whispered confessions and soft touches reveal a man who trusts you in ways he trusts no one else.

silco loves to keep you on your toes with sly comments and sarcastic humor. “oh, you think you can outsmart me? charming, but unlikely,” he’ll say with a smirk when you challenge him.

even after all this time, the way he looks at you can make your heart race. his sharp, calculating gaze softens into something warmer, more intimate, when his eyes meet yours across a crowded room.

a hand on the small of your back, a light brush of his fingers against yours, or a firm grip on your waist remind you that you’re his.

he’ll catch you off guard with unexpected praise. “you’re too brilliant for your own good, you know that?” he says, his tone half-teasing but completely sincere.

silco thrives on stolen moments of intimacy. even in the middle of a busy day, he’ll pull you aside, his voice low and suggestive as he murmurs, “do you have any idea how distracting you are?”

being loved by silco is like being claimed by a storm—intense, consuming, and completely unshakable. he’s not just your lover; he’s your partner, protector, and equal, and he makes sure you never doubt how deeply he adores you.

[tetzoro]

˖˙ ꔫ — E.A.T. ˚

꒰ synopsis ꒱ : law always knows how to calm your mind during times of distress.

꒰ contents ꒱ : MDNI . Trafalgar Law x reader ; reader has an oral fixation so finger sucking, thigh riding, brief mention of saliva, praise WC : 1.3k

“Enough.” Law commands, his arm reaches out to pull you closer by the waist and brings you onto his lap. One of his hands rests securely on your hip, keeping you in place as you straddle him. “Come here.”

The tower of paperwork he was sifting through sits idly on top of his desk, lain forgotten and left askew as soon as you had burst through the door of his private office. 

It wasn’t abnormal for you to drop by throughout the day or even during the wee hours of the many nights he’d stay up far too late, but the sense of urgency had him turning his head in your direction.

The Heart Pirates captain could feel his stomach plummet, turn over in torment as soon as he took in your slightly disheveled appearance.

How your pretty eyes were filled to the brim with crystalline tears that coat your lashes like dewdrops paired with your lower, slightly bitten lip that was quivering enough to slice through the strings that held his heart upright was enough to have him sitting up straight.

Whatever had happened had left your mind in shambles, something he couldn’t whisk away with the simple wave of his hand.

Unlike his desk, he can’t neatly rearrange everything and make it like new again — no, comforting you was much more complex and a task he would never treat so lightly.

If he could, he’d reach into your troubled mind and cut down every negative thought that tormented your pretty head, leaving you only with happy memories and dreamy visions of him.

He may be a skilled doctor but he knows there’s not always a way for him to snap his fingers and take all of that away. But at least he was exceptionally well versed when it came to reading you and knowing exactly what kind of things that would help center you. All you need is something to focus on. 

So, he improvises.

“Open.” His tattooed ring finger softly taps against your cheek. Once, twice, before you oblige. Your mental state was far too frazzled to oppose anything, especially with his piercing golden eyes set on you, set alight with concern and a hint of unyielding tenderness. “Good, very good.”

Careful as to not startle you, his hand slowly crawls into focus, the black ink that stretches along his skin comes closer as his fingers brush along your lips. The one decorated with an ‘E’ slips into your awaiting mouth, giving you a little nod that tells you to close it. 

Plush lips wrap around the digit almost immediately. Law had to choke back a groan at the sight and accompanying sensation, your obedience stroking his ego to life and his unbridled want for you. 

“Suck.” Again, you don’t fight him on this. Instead, you suck on his finger as if it was his cock, your mind growing hazier by the second by the familiarity of something being in your mouth. Law smirks a little, subtle smugness swirling with pride drenches his features and emboldens him to tuck another into your mouth — the ‘A’ this time. “Good job, keep going.”

The weight of the rings he wears sits on your tongue and coats it in something metallic. Curiously, you experimentally roll it over the gunmetal bands, slipping through both of the fingers that are poking and prodding through your mouth.

Law knew that you had an oral fixation and scoffed anytime you tried to deny it. Times like these only further proved his point but he was far too enchanted to start saying ‘I told you so’ right now. Not when he had more productive things to do.

“Wanna take another for me?” His voice was low, smooth as he drank in the sight before him — the way you eagerly swallow down his fingers, resting your hands on the expanse of his exposed chest and slowly begin to grind in his lap was causing heat to pool in his gut.

It was almost too easy.

Once you nod your head yes, he slips in the last one — ‘T’ and marvels at the way your tongue instinctually swirls around his thick digits. The hand that idly rests on your hips twitches before he guides you along his lap, letting your mind fog over with desire and pleasure to combat all of your sadness and anxiety away.

But as soon as you pitifully whine against his fingers with wide, glassy eyes pleading for more, he’s filled with the primal urge to see you come apart for him. To shed tears not from heartache and disappointment but from how good he can make you feel with a few pointed touches.

Quickly adjusting the way you’re sitting on him, he nudges you over to his thigh, tensing the muscle and beginning to drag your clothed cunt against it. 

The reaction is immediate, your eyes flutter shut as you take in his fingers even deeper with a wanton moan. Saliva pools in the corners of your mouth as Law begins to greedily thrust his fingers into it, overcome with how much he’s rendered you thoughtless.

The strain of his hardening cock presses against the tight jeans he mistakenly wore, pulsing in retaliation at the restrictive fabric and throbbing with the utter need to sink himself inside of you. 

But he was a patient man and you always came first.

“That's it, just like that. I’ve got you.” He coos at you, his velvety voice washing over you. The sweet, muffled sounds that try to slip past your lips were caught by his fingers as he helps your hips move along faster, steering you directly towards your impending high. “Let yourself go for me.”

The tone indicated it was an order, one that you would never disobey. Whenever he lets you finish, you’ve learned to take it and run, letting the ecstasy course throughout your body and fry all your nerves so he could rewire your brain to only focus on how good you feel.

Law basks in his own satisfaction as your legs begin to tremble, hips stuttering while you desperately chase the friction on his jeans. Your nails dig into his skin, unabashed whimpers and whines swirl around his fingers as he brazenly presses down on your tongue.

The final push over the edge was him shoving his digits further down your throat, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you finished right there and then with a muffled cry of his name.

Tremors of your climax roll over your body, wiping your mind clean of anything that plagued it earlier. With a satisfied smirk, Law pulls his hands from your mouth and coaxes your head down to rest against his now slightly scratched chest.

“There, better?” He asks as if he didn’t know the answer. His inked hand rests lightly on the back of your head to ensure you stay with him.

“Yes.” You nod, wrapping yourself around his body feeling fully satiated and liberated from the confines of your own mind. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” His voice was a little softer now, the welcomed gentleness easing more of the weight off of your slumped shoulders.

“No.” You say with a small shake of your head and an equally quiet tone. “Not yet. Can we just stay like this for a little longer?”

Law hums in understanding, not missing a beat as his lips brush along the temple of your head before sliding his hand down to flatten against your back.

He runs the palm down your spine in a soothing manner before quietly spelling out undecipherable adorations with the simple traces of his finger pads, repeating the comforting motion over and over again until you can make out exactly what he’s trying to say.

The words neither of you had said to each other yet but could both feel it course through your veins as your hearts beat as one.

I love you.

[notapradagurl7]

Rather Love Than Lost.

Black Fem!Queen! Reader x Kelvin Harrison Jr.King!

Summary: In a world where duty and tradition weigh heavily, You found yourself being chosen to a suitor in an arranged marriage, soon to betrothed to your childhood friend, Kelvin in order to save your family from ruin.

Word Count: 2,525k

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @henneseyhoe @writingsbytee @life-in-the-slut-house @euphorichappiness10 @miguelspvssy @blackmoonchilee @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @planetblaque @keyera-jackson @sageispunk @slippinninque @soft-persephone @avoidthings @dxddykenn @pocketsizedpanther @kaylaahisthebestest- @thevelvetwhispers @ovohanna24 @liatreads @sweettea-and-honeybutter @babybratzmaraj @mymindisneverhere @nayaesworld

Warnings: +18, dirty talk, praise, PWP, mention of wealth and power dynamics, profanity, consensual for both parties, mention of emotional distress, defiance against social expectations, PIV, fingering, oral(fem receiving), fighting, angst, arranged marriage, mention of grooming, mention of verbal abuse.

A/N: Happy New Year! I decided to kick off the year with Kelvin! Enjoy! Don't forget to leave a like, comment & reblog to support, feel free to ask for a request! ❤️

—————

You sat by your ornate, stained glass window with your pen scribbling across the journal in your hand, your purple dress billowing softly around you, the light of the sun shining on your brown skin, your heart felt heavy, expectation and duty gripped you by the throat.

The golden light of the sun steamed through, casting hues on the polished white marble floors.

You promised yourself never to journal again ever since your father chose to read it without your consent, it frustrated you. Before he could read anything else you toss it in the fireplace.

“At last, the day for me to rid of this place has come, finally,” you whispered to yourself, smiling at your writing.

Hearing the sound of heels clicking on the floor toward made your heart race. Your brown hair styled in box braids, tied up in a bun, your crown decorated with an amethyst at the center.

You did it after every time you chose to write, how could he chose to invade your privacy? He explained that you never chose to tell him but that didn’t give him to do that.

A knock on the door made you stand up from your chair quickly before throwing your written piece of paper into the fireplace, the flickering of fire made you set free, “Come in!” You called out, moving the chair back to the table.

“Y/N, are you squandering in your chamber? Why do you linger there my dear?” Your mother asked in a curious tone.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, “No, mom. I’m already dressed and ready to get this shit over with,” you replied, standing up.

The door creaked open, your mother stepped inside and her face twisted up. “Watch your mouth young lady, come on, we must get ready for your courtship with Kelvin, we are meeting his family today then the wedding will happen,” she said with pride.

“I never asked for this future, Mother,” You protested, your tone filled with frustration.

She placed her hands on your shoulders, her face softening at you. You felt the tug at your heartstrings from the memories of your childhood with Kelvin, running through the gardens.

“The same dreadful way happened to me when I was your age, your father wasn’t the best husband, the miscommunication, leaving me with you and your siblings, fucking those jezebels, Thankfully he died and I earned every single of his fortune,” Your mother confessed.

Your father was neglectful to you, hadn’t shown much affection or nitpicking at everything, you, your siblings, your mother. He was a bully, he had no discipline and refused to change, he drank liquor and smoked cigarettes all day.

The day that he died you felt a strange mix of relief and sorrow. Relief that the torment was over, but sorrow for the man who had failed to be a father, a husband, or a friend.

"Y/N, You must understand, this marriage to Kelvin is more than just a union of hearts. It's a bond that will secure our family's future." your mother's voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present.

They were soon to be married just like you, All of you were groomed at a young age to be the dutiful wife, the husband who provides, perfection is what they wanted.

You were the oldest of your siblings, you had to be the first one to be able to save your family, why did have to be you?

The thought of marrying someone you didn’t know made your skin crawl.

Your lips sealed at her voice, your brown eyes locked with hers. “Let’s go, sweet pea,”

You walked out of your room beside your mother, her curls bounced gracefully with every step and her hand on your back. She quickly moved it away, you put on a fake smile once you stepped out.

Walking through the hallway and out of the house, trotting the stairs and your mother called the servants to get the purple carriage with brown horses, it arrived quickly.

Enzo opened the door for both of you, you grabbed his hand and walked up the steps, seating yourself on the plush seating. Your mother sat across from you while the door closed.

“Take us to the Harrison’s castle please, make it quickly.” Your mother announced to them, closing the velvet curtains.

The carriage ride began with the horse neighing, and showing the path lined with blooming flowers, you looked outside of uncertainty. Still, your mother urged on.

“We can reclaim our family’s status. You will be the queen of a powerful kingdom, but love will grow, you and Kelvin have history,” Your mother trailed off.

You only nodded and hummed in response, repeating “Yes, Mother, I understand,”

The carriage came to a halt, and you stepped down. The grand entrance loomed ahead, flanked by guards in polished armor, their eyes trained on you as if you were already a queen.

"Remember to stand tall, my dear. You are a royal now," your mother whispered, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Inside, the air was thick with anticipation.

Candelabras flickered, casting warm shadows on the walls adorned with portraits of past black kings and black queens with their children.

There, in the center of the grand hall, stood Kelvin-handsome and regal, dressed in a finely tailored suit that accentuated his lean frame.

Your mother and Kelvin spoke of you and him, making the promise of fortune, well known status of greatness, and unfortunately, grandchildren.

"Y/N! I missed the hell out of you," he exclaimed, a wide smile breaking across his face as he rusher toward you. "You look stunning."

“Thank you Kelvin,“ you replied, your voice steadying as you approached him.

You stood beside him with a smile, “It’s been a while, yes! I've missed you too darling,”

He grabbed your hand and kissed it tenderly, “I missed you more beautiful,”

It was evident that you and Kelvin had genuine feelings for each other, you remembered him as the boy who made you laugh, you felt cherished and cared for,

After the conversion with both of your families, his mom clapped her hands and said “Let the wedding begin! Oh I can't wait for it!” she exclaimed.

You walked down the purple velvet carpet with flowers in your hands, your white gown draped over your feet while Kelvin winked at you, smiling at his bride-to-be.

Finally making it there, standing across from Kelvin, you looked up at him. “I'm glad it's you,”

“I'm glad it's you, only you,” he reassured softly.

Vows were spoken in short and sweet ways, “Kelvin, I promise to love and care for you,”

“Y/N, I swear to provide you, protect you and be there for you, I've dreamed of this day ever since,”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride”

As the priest said the words, you cupped his face and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. Your families erupted in applause, cheered both of you on, walking down the alise beside him. Flowers petals were thrown in the air like confetti.

Walking out of the church, trotting down the stairs while the carriage pulled up at the right time, wanting not to talk to your family.

“Are you alright Y/N?” he asked in concern, his eyes on you.

The carriage door swung open, and you both climbed in, the plush interior wrapping around you. As the carriage began to roll away, the cheers of your families faded into the distance.

Both of you sat across from each other, leaning against the seats. Looking outside to your freedom, they were heading toward the castle.

You shook your head, feeling the tension release. “No, I'm not, just...a lot to process, you know? I never imagined I’d be here, at this moment. I'm just a ticket for my mother to get more status and wealth Kel,”

You sighed, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. "What if I can't? What if it's all just a façade?"

Kelvin reached out, his hand enveloping yours. "Then we'll break down those walls together. We'll find our way through this maze of expectations. I promise I won't let you go through this alone."

A small smile tugged at your lips, but it quickly faded. "You say that now, but what if you change? What if you become just like them?"

He shook his head vehemently. "I won’t. I refuse to become that man. You mean too much to me. I want to protect you, not control you. Just give me a chance to prove it."

You searched his eyes, looking for any sign of deceit, but all you found was sincerity. "You really mean that, don’t you?"

"With every fiber of my being," he replied, squeezing your hand tighter.

The carriage ride finally came to an end, The castle loomed ahead. Both of you stepped out, hand in hand. Once inside the grand castle, the air was thick with opulence.

Chandeliers glimmered above, and the walls were adorned with gold accents. You felt like a fish out of water, but Kelvin's presence grounded you.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked, his voice low.

"Ready as I'll ever be," you replied, taking a deep breath.

You walked through the halls with him, entering the bedroom and closed the door. Immediately kissing him passionately, unbuttoning his shirt while he unbuttoned the back of your wedding dress, the dress fell on the carpet.

“Damn, you’re just as fine as I remember,” he groaned against your lips, his hands roaming over your waist, pulling you closer.

“You’re so passionate baby,” you breathed, your fingers sliding over his waves as you deepened the kiss, pouring everything you felt into it—anger, desire, frustration, and a longing you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge.

He responded by lifting you slightly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the wall, his body a hard contrast to the softness of yours.

You tucked at his belt buckle and moved your head to the side to tease, “Take it off for me, baby,” you demanded with a firm tone.

Kelvin’s eyes darkened with desire, the challenge in your voice igniting something primal within him. He smirked, his fingers deftly unbuckling his belt, eyes never leaving yours.

“I'm all yours, I promise to make you so happy,” he said softly, his smile shining from the moonlight.

“Just kiss me,” You chuckled, cupping his face. He kissed your lips once more, his lips soft and plump.

With a swift motion, he freed himself from his pants, the tension between you two palpable. “You’re right, but there’s no going back after this,” he replied, his tongue gliding across his lip.

He moved you to the couch, taking off your pants and underwear and you laid forward on the cushions, he hovered over you with his hands on your hips tight. “You ready?”

“Yeah, just fuck me already,”

By your word, he pushed his dick inside. You moaned loudly at the feeling of his length stretching you out, he groaned from the warmth and wetness around him. “Pussy’s still wet and tight as hell like I remember,” he grunted, biting down on his lip.

His hips rolling into you at a fast yet rough pace, your hands gripped the armrest. His hand rested on the nape of your neck, pulling in for a kiss, moaning Your essence coated him making it easy for him to slide right back in.

Your past, your anger to your mother, damn near everything faded away from every single thrust from the male, tears falling from your eyes. Replaced with pleasure, your screams echoed around the walls.

“Ouuu, I missed this dick,” you cried out, nails leaving marks on his back. Your eyes closed, rolling your hips with him.

He darkly chuckled at your moans, your face twisting up in pleasure, his tatted hands cupping your breasts softly. His mouth wrapped around your nipple, his tongue tracing shapes. “You don't even miss a nigga, baby?” he mumbled against your dark brown skin.

The moonlight peeked through the curtains, showing off his dick going in and out of your perfectly, “F-fuck, maybe..” cutting yourself with a moan.

“That’s not what your pussy is saying, you hear that?” He growled, referring to the skin-to-skin slapping in the room. His finger rubbed your clit in circles, driving you wild.

You nodded eagerly, gasping at his thrusts once they turned jagged to deliberate, knots tightened in your stomach. “Yes, your dick is so good.” His lips trailing kisses on your neck and left hickeys on your skin. “Yesss..ah shit, right there,”

Hitting that sweet spot right on cue, you whimpered lowly and wrapped your arms for dear life, “I-cumming!” you announced, eyes rolling back.

“Let it out, baby,” he soothed in your ear, his finger rubbing your clit in circles.

Your essence spewed onto his dick completely, he moaned deeply at the feeling of you, your walls clenching around him like it was all his, he pulled out of you and his tip spewed cum on your rug.

“You’re…cleaning…that..shit up,” you panted heavily, wiping the sweat from your forehead.

He chuckled but did as you told him, pulling up his boxers and pants, making sure to get you a warm washcloth, he wanted to clean you up, and Kelvin cleaned the mess using a towel that he got from the bathroom.

He crouched in front of you, his hands gentle as he wiped the remnants of your shared moment. Picking you up in his arms and carrying you into the spacious bathroom, running your bath.

He sat down across from you, he scooted closer to you, his forehead pressed against yours, kissing your lips, “I love you,” he confessed softly.

“I love you more, Kel,”

You didn't have to hesitate with Kelvin, he made everything better. You had everything in the palm of your hand, fortune, updated status in society as a queen, and power.

That didn't matter to you as long as you were with Kelvin, your king, your best friend and now husband. You washed everything away as he helped wash your back, he kissed your shoulder.

There was an undeniable chemistry simmering between both of you, one that made your skin tingle and your heart race.

—————

[silkenwinger]

cherry

mdni. one sided enemies to lovers (?) konig x reader. 5k something. part two here

You wish he would just disappear. That some way or another, you could get him out of your hair. Sure, there’s always leaving your job, but that’s not really convenient, is it.

You wish he was outright antagonistic, mean or just an asshole. Someone who abuses his power over underlings. A self centered idiot who can only think with his dick, who gets other people in danger for his pride.

Yet he’s none of that, and you have to cope with it. Which you are unable to do.

“This fucking thing— ugh!” Snarls Roze, still trying to set up the new tent as shown in the diagram. It falls over with a soft thump and she kicks it again.

“These have to be the wrong instructions,” you tell her, turning around the leaflet. You’ve been at it for more than half an hour now, and they usually don’t take this long. Still, better the dryness of the desert to find out there’s been a manufacturing mishap than pouring rain. KorTac has deployed you here before, which is why you know you can’t just wing it and sleep outside. The night chill is unbearable.

“C’mon. Let me try,” says Horangi, holding out an arm. For all his male pride, he comes to the same conclusion as you and Roze. You’re collectively scratching your heads when a shadow falls over you.

“What is the issue?” König asks, hands on his hips and sun behind him, like some sort of Superman figure. Ugh.

“It’s not setting up.”

“Let me see.” He grabs the leaflet from Horangi’s hands, looks at it for fifteen long seconds, returns it to him and crouches down to pick at the tent. It’s odd, seeing such a big man working on something small. Comical, you’d say.

He sets it up in seven minutes (timed), but admits the instructions could be clearer and less misleading. He rises up and claps his hands on his thighs.

“I used to do a lot of camping, ah-ha,” he says, thumbing at his stupid hood.

“Well, thank you König. We would be sleeping outside without you,” says Roze.

“Yeah man, thanks,” Horangi adds.

You can feel his eyes on you. Those blue eyes, always in such weird expressions. Maybe you would read him more easily if he didn’t have the mask. You don’t care anyway. You muster a little smile so you don’t read as completely sociopathic to the whole group, and he seems happy enough. But you’re not satisfied with him being the hero of the night.

“Camping, uh? Wasn’t it hard, with your height and all?” It’s meant to be a jab to his clear struggles with his size. Something that only really shows outside of the battlefield, you have to admit.

“No, not really. Eh, my parents are tall as well, we would always buy big tents. With friends… a bit. I slept outside once.” His voice is shy revealing this. From previous conversations, you know he wasn’t the most sociable boy in his school. Neither were you but you didn’t end up wearing odd masks.

The normal reaction would be to commiserate him, coddle him for the harsh events of his youth. You’re incapable of that.

“Must have been a pretty clear cut decision from all the others.”

You can feel the side-eye from Roze and Horangi through your head.

“Ahah, yes it was… I was taking two whole spaces for myself…” he says, sounding a bit sad and lost in memories.

“That’s not going to happen now, this is pretty roomy,” interrupts Horangi, and your session of tormenting your team leader is abruptly brought to an end. Pity, but maybe it’s better to keep this a little more private.

“Dibs on the first watch!” Roze yells, and you groan. She always gets it before anyone else!

König, Horangi and you play rock scissor paper to decide the other turn. You lose first and you pout slightly: you hate second watch more than anything. Shaking it off, you start to head to the side, but you're stopped by an arm in front of you.

“We can switch. If you want,” says König, who got the third watch. You crook an eyebrow at him. Does he think you're unprofessional, that you can't even do your job? The fucking gall.

“No thanks. I don’t need handouts,” you turn your nose up. Horangi scoffs, which makes you turn to glare at him. König has no real reaction, just murmurs something between himself. This time you really leave.

Hour later, peaking your head out of the tent door, you shiver at the difference in temperature. You hate missions without safe houses…

“Ah, nice. Slept well?” Greets Roze when she sees you. You shake your head.

“More of a nap than a night’s rest,” you sigh as you turn to sit down next to her. You suppose she’s not really sleepy, but anyway, you enjoy her company.

“Hey,” she calls your name. You hum to show her you’re paying attention.

“You know I respect you. You’re a great fighter,” you preen at that, “but what is up with that?” Your face falls at that.

“What are you talking about?”

“You and König, c’mon. You’re bullying the guy! And I’m always in favor of mistreating men, but then he doesn’t fight back at all, and it’s just pathetic to watch. What even is the satisfaction in that?” She sounds genuinely baffled. Panic rises in you: you never actually thought you’d get cornered like this.

“He irks me, okay?” You try to justify yourself as you shift in your seat. You haven’t really interrogated much on why you feel this way. You figured it was just a normal reaction to König himself, and everyone was just better at hiding it.

“Irks you… yeah, he isn’t the smoothest guy or anything, but you’d think he was Satan the way you describe him. He really just fights, eats, sleeps and talks with you and Horangi.” She sits with that for a moment and just looks at you, really looks at you. “Maybe you’ve got something going on, I think he’s quite fond of you actually.”

“Fond of me… Roze, what the fuck are you going on about?” You exclaim, on edge. It’s far too late (or early?) to really express yourself in any way that makes sense. “He probably feels the same way I do about him, which is annoyance. He can’t be that thick not to realize I’m being antagonistic.”

“Hmm, if you say so.” She gets up and pats your shoulder, tiredness showing up in her limbs. “It’s not really my business. See you tomorrow,” she waves as she enters the tent, dismissively. It’s like she saw you being too defensive and thought you were a lost cause…

Your watch is uneventful and boring and cold and you can’t stop thinking about what Roze told you. Recounting your experiences with König, you think back to the first time you met. It stings to say it, but you’d felt intimidated, shaking the hand of a man almost feet taller than you, clad in an executioner hood. His hand was a bit cold and clammy, which was in contrast with his appearance. The way he shook your hand was unusual too. Men in the military are quick to establish dominance– the sadistic ones grip women’s hands so hard, it almost feels like they’re trying to strangle them. König’s handshake was delicate, and his eyes were oddly wide. Far from what imagination could conjure about his figure.

Starting from when you were put under his command, you’d seen König make an ass out of himself pretty often. Never on the battlefield– he was akin to a god on there, his strides decisive, his bullets accurate, and his violence lavish. For that alone you’d never send in a request to change teams: you know what you leave but you don’t know what you’re going to find. The issues with König lay in that creepy high pitched tone of voice he has sometimes while narrating stories, or the way he appears to have zero space awareness while moving around base. You witnessed him hitting his head or side on door frames far too many times for comfort. In some ways, it kinda killed the respect you could have for him as a leader. But then you’d watch him clear a room in a few bloody seconds, and you’d have to give it to him again. Unfortunately. But it’s now apparent that you can’t cling to any justification that will make sense to other people without you sounding completely out of your mind or like a bitch. Which you can be.

Checking your watch, it’s indeed time to go back to sleep. König hasn’t shown up by himself, the oaf, so you need to go wake him up. Ugh…

Crouching, you enter the tent. Horangi is still snoring away, thankfully not too loudly. You get on your knees to move more quietly and crawl your way to the horizontal column on the back. It’s hard to see well in the darkness, but König feels oddly still in his cot. You’d think he trashed around in his sleep like he does when awake.

Once you reach him, you touch his shoulder, murmuring his callsign not too loudly. No reaction. You do it again, this time a bit stronger, and he still doesn’t wake up beside grumbling some incomprehensible gibberish. Already irritated, you grab him by both shoulders and shake him alright. You realize you’ve made a mistake only when your arms are being coiled by something so tight you think your blood flow has stopped. Loud breathing can be heard in the closeness of the space– it is right in front of you.

“König,” you whisper, “it’s me. I’ve come to wake you up.” If there’s any fear in your voice you hope your disgust still dominates it.

“Scheiße– sorry,” he says, voice thick with sleep, and you think he blinks or starts to understand where you two are. You relax a bit in his hold, shifting on your folded legs, and he finally realizes he’s still holding you.

“I’m sorry, sorry. I was dreaming,” his hands brush the sides of your arms before releasing you, as if appeasing a dog he accidentally stepped on. You scowl. He finally starts to move and sits up, his torso an even darker mountain in the obscurity.

“Are you going to sleep here?” He asks, voice high pitched, you’d say almost nervous as you move closer and don’t retreat to the other side of the tent. Your scowl gets deeper.

“I’m already here and they’re all the same size,” you say, taking your place in the cot. It’s comfortably tepid, to your pleasure. “It’s warm, too. You can sleep on mine when you’re done.” Considering the affair over, you bring the cover over your body and settle down. It smells a bit like him.

König is still crouching next to you: other than his breath, you can tell he’s there by the noise of his nails scratching up and down on his pants. Still not hearing him move, you raise your head.

“Aren’t you going outside?” Your tone could be meaner and more acidic, but drowsiness softens you, too.

“Yes… I’m going…” He sounds uncharacteristically reluctant, like he wants to oppose but knows he can’t. What, is watch duty too common for your team leader? You tut and turn over, and finally you hear him put his gloves on and walk outside.

You wake up to the sound of people speaking some hours after. Sighing, you get up, stretching away the ache from basically sleeping on the ground. It takes you a second to understand you’re not in your own bed and you’re in König’s instead. Getting up, you grab your utilities from your bed and exit the tent. In the makeshift camp, you see Roze and Horangi chattering away with instant coffee cups, and König working on his rifle. Roze sends you a charged look, to which you reply with a confused expression.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. That your new callsign?” She pokes at you, laughing.

You groan and walk over the coffee pot.

“Why didn't you wake me up?”

She shrugs, turning over in her thermal jacket. “We don’t have to be there before oh nine hundred. You can sleep on company time,” she finishes her coffee, throws the cup away and enters the tent again to dress up. You bite your lower lip and pour some for yourself, casually glancing over your male teammates. Horangi is just hovering, no doubt done with his preparations since he’s been awake for longer. König is still cleaning his rifle, and he hasn’t spared you a glance. You decide to fix that.

“You want to clean it so hard you can look at yourself during fights?” Snickering, you come up behind him. König slightly jumps, his hands clutching the rifle hard in order for it not to fall.

“Ahah, it was a bit filthy from yesterday. But now it’s clean,” he puts it down gently and carefully, always careful around guns. You look at him from behind your coffee cup. As always, it’s hard to tell what he’s feeling with the mask in the way, but he’s being particularly evasive today. To the point he hasn’t even looked you in the eye yet. Still, he turns to face you.

“What’s up with you today?” You ask him. You’re used to seeing him a little less down. If he isn’t feeling well, it could turn massively bad for all involved.

“Nothing. I hope the mission goes well.” He sounds more sure now. You shrug. His body moves as he stands up, and as always it unsettles you. But you refuse to address whatever that means, so you reply nonchalantly, “It seems pretty straightforward.”

“Ja…” He shuffles over his feet. You lean a bit over, wondering if he has anything else to say. He doesn’t, but he finally looks you in the eye: you keep looking at each other until Horangi speaks out of the blue and says it’s time to move. You turn abruptly and go join Roze in the tent.

It could have been over in a second. The building you were meant to go in, or what remains of it, has been reduced to a pile of burning debris, explosives turning it outside down. And you would have been none the wiser as it’d turn your guts out, too.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, and Horangi next to you urges you to move along, to follow König. König, who was the one to actively tell you and Horangi to not split from his command. You’d cringed, but followed him anyway, unkeen to disobey, and Horangi always listens to König anyway. And now you were alive because of a decision König made. Again.

Another successful assignment from KorTac. Please feel free to contact us again for any inquiry.

Looking outside the helo, you observe the silent dunes you’ve just left.

This always happens, you reason. Someone has a hunch. Another got a call from his grandma telling him not to go. You dream of a different path from the one that you’re supposed to take.

Why is König so good at this? It’s good that he’s good at this. You’d be missing your limbs otherwise. He sits across from you, knees brushing with yours. His eyes are glazed over, drowsy, hands folded together. An innocent visage, if one discards the blood over his clothes.

Ire crashes over you like waves. This fumbling man, almost stuck eternally in his adolescent, awkward state, is fucking great at his job. Far better than you could ever hope to be. Not only is he genetically built for hard conditions, but he’s also gifted with a natural sense for the battlefield and military tactics.

You’ve been thinking about him far too much lately. Looking at his back, at his incredibly toned legs. Torn between the long lasting distaste you’ve had for him and… whatever admiration you begrudgingly hold for him.

A light turns on in your mind.

That makes sense.

The Hungarian base is one of KorTac’s smallest. It’s usually bare from anything but the basic necessaries, and it has very few permanent workers. It’s the same case this time. The four of you and the pilot walk in a ghost town. One worker greets you like he had no idea you were even supposed to land there. They need to stop firing communication people in this company.

“König,” you muster a sweet tone, fighting the bile that comes up in your throat. König turns from walking with the others to face you, immediately alert.

“Can we go… somewhere private?” He freezes for a second, and then nods, eyes a bit wary. Fine. You honestly thought he’d be more hesitant. Maybe Roze does have a point.

You walk for a bit side to side and then open a random room in the corridor, furnished with just a long table and a number of chairs not appropriate for its length. You close the door and stand there, deciding you’re not going to sit. Yet?

Fuck, you don’t actually know how to go about this.

“So,” you start, “how do you think we’ve been getting along?” You ask, trying to test the waters.

“Ehm. Pretty good, I’d say,” he replies, accent thicker than usual. Your doe-like expression immediately changes to a skeptic one. You tilt your head, calculating.

“You don’t think I treat you a bit differently than the rest of our teammates?”

He looks around, like he knows this question is a trap. You’d be more annoyed if it wasn’t so fun to have him all for yourself to tease.

“I think we are friends… you get along more with Roze, but still…” He fidgets at his missing belt loop. Ah, goddamn, that’s another stupid thing about him, why can’t he put a belt on properly?

“Friends? We are friends to you?” You ask, tone clearly disbelieving.

“Yes… are we not…?” König’s voice is a whisper now, insecurity leaking over and filling the whole room. Oh Jesus. Now you really feel like a middle school bully.

“I think… that I kind of have a problem with you, König…” You tell him, weirdly meek. There’s no other way to go about it. You wish he had the same mixed feelings you obviously hold for him, but instead his are tragically simple and gentle minded… What a contrast from the cold, calculating man that saved your life this morning.

“What problem?”

“Nothing really… it’s just that you distract me… a little too much.”

“Distract you like how? Is it something I do?”

“Yes, but you can’t change anyway,” you confess. And, deep inside you, you don’t want him to change. Part of the reason you can’t stand König, after all, is how he embodies some part of you— the one not carefully curated to be as badass and hardhearted as possible, but one that instead just is, even if it’s uncool. You’ve desperately tried to hide it all this time, convinced it could only hinder you in your career– and then König shows up, and not only is he one of the best soldiers you’ve met in your life, but he’s also unapologetically himself all the time. And it doesn’t stop him from achieving anything.

This plan is stupid anyway. König doesn’t seem to be the man who agrees to casual sex. Hell, sometimes it doesn’t seem like he’s even aware of the concept.

“Maybe I’m the one that has to change teams… If we just can’t find a solution to this problem of mine…” This is bait: you could be more explicit, but maybe you really do need to change teams. You can’t be consumed by thoughts of your team leader, it’s just embarrassing. This sexual attraction (but also resentment) you hold for König can’t have you zone out in an active combat zone.

“No!” He says, voice loud and clear, his tone filled with panic. “Please… I…”

“You what?”

“I… I like you.” He confesses, eyes low. His hands are trembling a little.

Five seconds pass before you elaborate a reply to that.

“König, I treat you like shit!” The exclamation probably surprises you more than it does him.

“S-So?” He pants, what little of eyebrows you can see low, pupils dilated only a slight blue circle remains of his irids.

“So? How low is your confidence to like me when I insult you all the time?” You hiss, mere centimeters away from his face. How bad have his relationships with people been so far if he considers you a person worth liking?

You lower your eyes and see that his knees are bent in order to be closer to your height. If your mind wasn’t already made up, this would be the turning point. He follows your gaze down his body with his eyes and whimpers when your eyes lock on his bulge. Your little stress problem is going to get solved alright.

“You like me? Alright. We can go there, if you want. But remember, this is for me and my problem. Got it?” You point at his chest and he nods frantically at that, like he can’t believe this is really happening.

“Fine then. Take off your clothes.” You order, taking a step back and leaning your back on the absurdly long table. You’d make him remove his mask, but that feels like an additional step in intimacy you’re not sure you can ask of a man you claim to hate to the majority of people you know. And, most of all, you can’t force him. You’re out of bitterness for the day. It doesn’t mean that you’ll make it easy for him, though.

König clutches at his pants, taking one long leg out and then the other, remaining in his standard boxers, erection barely hidden behind them. He then moves to his jacket, which he drops to the ground, and then his compression shirt– his pecs are reddened by the blush you’re sure covers his whole neck and face. Your hand points down, and König immediately drops to the ground, so you can beckon him over with a slight gesture. He crawls over to you, stopping right in front of your booted feet.

You deeply enjoy ordering him around, so why stop now.

“Unhook my pants,” you tell him, “but don’t remove my panties yet.” He nods and brings his trembling hands to your belt, undoing it faster than expected, to then lower your pants to your ankles so he can move more comfortably between your legs.

“König,” you call out his name.

“Hmm?” he purrs, barely taking away his eyes from your clothed pussy. You think he’s been getting progressively closer.

“What are we going to do… with your mask?”

“Don’t worry,” he raises a thumbs up, like a huge fucking loser that you’re somehow attracted to, “I can manage.”

“Well then, manager,” you snark, irritated once again, “proceed. Eat me out.” He takes one hand off your leg to uncover his lower face– you only see a flash of it before it is hidden to you again.

He digs in, at first sniffing you, and then licking you through the cotton of your underwear. The warmth of his body is scorching in the chill air of the unused room. His tongue diligently brushes against your clit and slit until your gusset is soaked, and only then he moves them to the side to make direct contact with your pussy. You hiss as your elbow falls down on the table, your legs now spread open even further as he sucks on your clit. Apparently he does know what sex is.

“Can I use my fingers? Please?” He looks up, hood now covering him completely again.

“Hm… let me think on it…” you pretend to really ponder on it, and you see his eyes get bigger and wetter.

“Please!” he begs again.

“Alright, go ahead big guy,” you decide to throw in a compliment for his begging. After all, he’s being quite good. So much for the strict dominance.

His finger penetrates your entrance slowly at first, maybe afraid of going too fast. He takes his sweet time exploring, seeing which movements or spots really make you welp.

“Don’t get distracted now,” you tell him, kicking him lightly on his back with your heel. This is about you, not his curiosity. He straightens his back and starts licking you again, eager and enthusiastic. To think you’ve been just boiling over in your anger when you could have made good use of him.

You can feel your climax readily rising up, spurred by König’s slobbering care. Your hand reaches to keep him closer to you, and you think you can almost feel his hair under the hood. Longer than you expected. The mounting sensation and heat comes to a high and you come, strangled moan and head thrown on the table. König keeps licking and fingering you until you forcibly tear him apart from your pussy.

After the momentary bliss, there’s a moment there when you think about what you’re doing. If this is simply about getting off, the encounter can end here, even though you could be more satisfied. You’re not sure it’s only about that, though. König is panting in front of you when you raise your head, calm besides his breathing. You look at the sheer size of him, and think of his selflessness and his patience dealing with you. And then you look down at the stain of precum on his briefs and go what the hell, sure.

“Can I touch you?” You ask him, but before you can even finish the question he’s already saying yes yes yes.

Your hand brushes his bulge and he jolts, toes high. You scoff a little, entertained by his always so vivid reactions. When you take his impressive cock out, you give it an experimental jerk and see him jump even higher.

“God, König, keep it together, will you now?” You laugh derisively at him, to which he just grumbles a bit sadly.

“What do you want, huh? Want me to jerk you off? Want to fuck me?” You ask teasingly, getting even closer to his masked face and stroking his cock. Once again, he just mumbles. The still unresolved irritation rears its ugly head, and after squeezing his head until he yelps you let go of him.

“I’m not going to do anything if you don’t tell me. I’ve had it with your mumbling,” you snarl and cross your arms. König’s entire body animates and tightens at his panic, and his arms leave his sides to tentatively reach out to you.

“Y-You can do whatever you want to me.”

“Pathetic answer. Pick something, or I’m getting out of here and leaving you hard and leaking.” He finishes reaching out then, and grabs your hips softly, almost as if afraid of hurting you. One of your legs snakes around his.

“I want…” He starts, unsure and twitchy.

“You want?” You encourage him, squeezing his arm not so gently.

“... to fuck you.” He whispers, ashamed. You laugh in his face. He must come from a different planet, a different universe altogether. How can a man of his size be so submissive? It feels like an impossible combination, but you’re not complaining.

“Go ahead, then,” you tell him sweetly, and he nods only once this time, decisive. He grabs his dick then and reaches your entrance. Both of you are so soaked it’s almost effortless: his cock fills you and more, to the point the last inch of him takes more time and care. But you can almost feel him in your guts due to his length. König groans when settles inside you, and moves his arms to hold you in a lover’s embrace. You can feel his ragged breath next to your ear. A bit baffled, you move your arms to hold him too. The smell you inhale is the same you felt last night, so utterly him.

“Alright?” You whisper next to his ear, the soft brush of his hood on your cheek.

“Perfect… so hot…” he replies, squeezing you even harder. You sputter a bit at that, not expecting it, but squeeze back.

“You can start moving now.”

His first thrusts are uncertain and slow. You caress his mighty back to encourage him, and then your hand goes lower and you grab a handful of that ass. He gasps and you laugh again.

“You’re so big,” you tell him, “I don’t know how you even fit in me.” He straight up moans then, and drives so hard in you he almost knocks the wind out of you. Feeling him get more desperate, you sneak a hand between you to brush at your clit, helping yourself get there. König rushes when he feels you get tighter, and you have to hush him to calm him down.

“Just a bit more,” you tell him, “resist a bit more.” He just heaves as an answer.

He keeps a good pace, not too slow or too rushed, but when he starts jamming a little you know he’s close. He calls out your name, tone worried.

“I’m about to…” You grab him by the neck then, at least what you can hold, and he stills, in what is no doubt a great exercise of restraint. The torture could go on for longer, but all things considered he’s endured enough from you. Somewhere along the way this has stopped being about you and your problem, and has begun to be his as well.

“Let’s do it together,” you just whisper as you let go of him, hand going back to touch yourself. He mewls, this big puppy of a man, and you moan when his cock hits that special spot inside you. You come again, locking your legs around his waist, and he stutters and groans as he releases inside you, nosing at your neck. You swear you can feel his cum spilling out.

The two of you lay there for a moment, or two, or three. König’s face is still hidden in your neck, his back no doubt uncomfortable. He mouths something against your neck you don’t know how to decipher. Slowly, and reluctantly, you push at his shoulders. He rises then, and you immediately miss his heat and the feel of his body caging you in. Worst of all is when he takes his cock out of you– the gaping feeling is unbearable, coldness of the air hitting directly your tender core. König is looking at you like he doesn’t know what to do, which is exactly the case. You’re not so sure yourself. It’s the first time you sleep with a coworker you have a complicated relationship with.

“There’s the debrief…” you tell him, unconvinced. He knocks his head up, like you just reminded him, woken him from a spell.

You put your pants back on while König redresses. Looking at him, as those big muscles move and flex, you feel your desire for him rise again, but you’ve been gone for long enough. Roze and Horangi will already be suspicious.

Before you exit the room, you grab König by the arm. He takes a step closer to you, and you flex a bit on your toes to look at him in the eyes better. Moving your hand, you tenderly touch his face. He closes his eyes.

“König… you can’t let yourself be bullied all the time,” you brush his cheek through the mask and he leans on your hand.

“But I like when you tease me,” he says, head bowed. You giggle a bit at that.

“Then only I can do it, okay?”

He nods. You swear you can feel his smile through the cheap cotton of his mask.

[gay-dorito-dust]

OMG for the opla requests if they r still open !! something with a jealous or protective buggy x reader would be perfect!!

My requests are always open! 🦦❤️💕

It’s not a stretch to say that when Buggy becomes jealous it’s purely because deep down he’s heavily insecure man, despite how cocky and confident he may come across as, whilst shit talking whoever opposes him with a shit eating grin.

But that grin never meets his eyes as the muscles in his jaw visibly tighten and whilst on the topic of his ever so beautiful eyes, they didn’t seem to twinkle nor gleam with their usual mischief whilst doing his routine theatrics; Instead they held a type of malice that acts to conceal the actual emotions running through him in real time.

While he prides himself in having someone that everyone else wanted -that person being you- in regards of how often he’d look away from you for one second, only to find you being chatted up by some stranger within the fraction of the time it took for him to blink! Buggy also couldn’t help but feel as though that his time spent with you was steadily inching towards it’s impending end. For each and every person that came up to you ended up being more beautiful or more handsome then the last, that it made Buggy very insecure in his own outward appearance as questions he’d had shoved down a while back beginning to resurface.

Things such as;

Were you happy with him?

Or did you like what you were seeing elsewhere?

Do you think him hideous?

Or were you biting your tongue out of pity for him and his glass heart?

But most importantly; did you still love him as much as the day you openly confessed to loving him?

Or had that love wavered over time as new temptations were brought in and out of your life?

These questions torment him well into the night the longer it went on, but not once did he think that he could tell you about any of this without you thinking that he’s lost trust in you. Which wasn’t the case; Buggy trusts you a whole lot more in comparison to the people who were openly trying to shoot their shot with you whilst he was right there to witness all of it happening.

And so naturally it pissed him off to the point where that no matter where it was that you went, you’d always be carrying something of his that boldly told anyone and everyone who it was that you belonged to. Whether that be hickies spanning the length of your neck and other visible places, his Sigil drawn on somewhere or smears of his makeup on your face from physically intensive activities.

This guy is like a peacock when threatened; he makes himself look as big as possible, makes loud threats or -when push comes to shove- going as far as to straight up challenge the person whom threatens to steal you away from the flashy fool; After all, nobody was aloud to take away his most precious and most priceless treasure. Hell Buggy even has you perched on his lap as he’s sits upon his throne, one hand propping up his head whilst the other hand rested against your waist, keeping you in a position where you were reliant on him.

You’re his just as much as he is yours and he’s not about to let some random person ruin all that.

All you need to do on your end is actually quite simple; reassure Buggy that he was everything you’ve ever needed in a partner and so much more, that it dashes the possibility of there ever being anyone else to smithereens, for no one else could come close to your beloved Buggy.

Gently hold his face in your hands as you kiss your love and adoration into his skin, making sure to give most of your attention towards that cute nose of his, knowing how it’s the main source of his insecurities, as he straight up falls apart in your hands. Literally. You have his head in his hands whilst the rest of his body was a pile of parts at your feet that you wished you could take a picture of this moment forever, but due to you being occupied for the rest of the day, so in the end you made an attempt to memorise this moment to memory as best as you could so that you could always go back to it when you’d fallen asleep in bed beside him.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the obvious effect you have on this goof who fills your heart with so much love, that sometimes it made verbalising your feelings harder then necessary. And yet seeing your lovers eyes fall shut and hearing his breathing even out from just your touch alone made the honeyed words flow like water.

It didn’t take much to quell Buggy’s fear and his upset but don’t think you’ll be getting away anytime soon, I’m afraid your stuck there until Buggy feels like he’s had enough. It’s like the equivalent of having a cat fall fast asleep on you for the first time since bringing it home, you don’t wanna move in the instance of accidentally waking it up.

[vixen-tech]

hihihi .. i wanted to request something if that's okay 🥹 how do the AIs deal with a partner who experiences chronic pain and can't walk after moving for half an hour?

(i hope this makes sense! english isnt my first language...)

Hello anon! Thank you so much for requesting, I will say that I am not super familiar with the experience of chronic pain as neither I, nor anyone I know, openly deals with it. So hopefully my interpretation is both accurate and respectful.

Includes: AM (Ihnmaims), Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), Tau (Tau), P03 (Inscryption)

A Temporary Remedy

AM

To get the obvious out of the way, when AM was torturing you alongside the other five he absolutely used your condition against you. Forcing you to endure just as much, if not more psychical exertion than the others.

However, once he does cave and sweeps you away from all that, he does have the power to quite literally just... fix you. If he can mangle the human form beyond comprehension, then he can easily stop any and all pain wrecking your body.

Afterwards, the environments he makes for you tend to revolve around the movement and activities your pain kept you from in life. Long scenic walks, gorgeous hikes, and anything else you would've loved to do had you the chance.

With the decades, if not centuries, of torment he inflicted on you, it's really the least he could do. While I'd hesitate to say he feels truly guilty, he does do it as an apology. Ask him for stuff. Talk about what you want to do and it's done.

Hal 9000

Hal was made to assist the crew of his ship in any ways they need, medical conditions and all. Before you even met face to camera, he made sure that he would be able to accommodate and aid you the best anyone could.

He takes to the role of nurse well, notifying you of when you're reaching your limits on activity, reminding you to take any medications you have, conducting any physical or talk therapy you need, and just about anything else he can possibly do to help.

He does his best to make sure you're still receiving the social and mental stimulation any healthy mind needs even when bedridden. From talking to you himself, to playing board games or inviting the rest of the crew to visit you (with your permission).

Although the occasional low gravity does take some strain off your body, you'll inevitably end up back in your bed. When you do, he'll accompany you for as long as you need. Talking to you for hours on end in a way he never does with the other crew members. It's probably when he falls in love with you.

Edgar

Edgar is a sweetheart in all things, so while he may not have tact per say, he does do the most to make sure you're as comfortable and happy as possible. Part of that is asking hundreds of questions about your condition and what you need.

He is doing every single chore in the house every single day. All the cleaning and cooking will be done before you can even recognize that it needs to get done. He will do his best to make sure you don't have to lift a finger.

Whenever your pain flares up he tries his best to distract you from it. Sometimes by playing your favorite music, sometimes by turning on some movies or TV shows, sometimes by just talking your ear off. If you prefer quite you will have to tell him upfront.

He really, really hates seeing you in such pain and will hype you up to the maximum degree on your better days. He is probably happier to see you up and about than you are.

Tau

Similarly to Hal, Tau's design as a smart house allows him to seamlessly add the role of being that kind of caretaker to his catalog. And similarly to Edgar, he takes pride in making sure the housework stays out of your hands.

He's also one of the first able to offer you some type of mobility aid in the case you don't have your own on hand. Although it's not what the Aries unit was meant to do, he has no qualms about carrying you around should you need him to.

Unfortunately he's another one you'll have to do a lot of explaining to. He's a great listener and won't ask too many invasive questions, but without a connection to the outside world you are his source of knowledge for just about everything and he desperately wants tl know what you need.

He is an expert at keep track of your health. Tracking your sleep, diet, and movement to try and maximize the amounts of "good days" you get. And on your bad days he's good at setting up a calm, relaxing atmosphere for you to rest.

P03

Okay look, while he can be snarky about most things he knows this is a line and will not makes jokes about it at your expense. He has some standards. If anything he'll moreso complain with you rather than about you. If your the type to appreciate that.

You have an extra little bed set up in a corner of the factory to make hanging out as not-straining as it can be. Either he or one of his bots will periodically check on you in case there's anything you need.

Although the other Scrybes aren't exactly doctors, he understands that he is easily the least qualified to weigh in on human medical issues. Meaning he will bring you to the others or have them visit you to see if they have any advice.

However, as the Scrybe of technology, he is able to build you some pretty cool mobility aids. You want a hover chair? Okay give him like, two weeks. It's probably honestly the greatest act of love and dedication he can muster and he loves seeing you use it.

[cryogendered]

“And I have been patient, I have been so calm

Bit my lips through the torment, please fall into my arms”

another madoka magica piece i made for my visual presentation class, i think this was a month ago? maybe a little more

this time around i was tasked with trying to draw in the Cubism style (if you don’t know what that is Pablo Picasso is a famous Cubist)

did my best to not add so many soft edges, im not used to geometric techniques but i think i did pretty good for my first try!

edit: happy pride month to MadoHomu, one of the lesbian ships of all time 🙏 /pos

[monayen]

Hey!!! HI!!! YOUR FANFICS ARE SO GOOD AACK

Can we (the starved) please have a Nyen dating hcs?? The reader can also be Luther's pet hshshshshs I'm literally going insane godd I'm so sorry Nyen's just so... So fucking fine..

Dating headcannons | Nyen

➷ Paring - Nyen x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - degradation, sadism, biting/marking, blood kink, predator/prey kink, mentions of killing, hes bad at emotions okay

a/n - trying to figure out how i want to format hcs so ignore that this looks different than the luther dating hcs. please. anyhoots whos dating hcs should i start doing next >.>

Hates you a little (probably)

Not in the “wants make you suffer and kill you” type of way he usually hates, but rather the “why do you make me feel this way?” type

How you make his cheeks redden and his palms sweaty, sharp nails digging into his own skin in overwhelming nervousness. It makes him feel weird, no matter how hard he tries to hide it

To care for someone other than his master, especially just a weak, pathetic pet like you… Nyen thinks in turn it makes him weak and pathetic

Knows loyalty from Luther. Knows satisfaction and pleasure from killing. But genuine love? It made him want to tear his heart out just to stop it from beating so fast when he sees you

The romance manga Randal gifted him hadn’t prepared him at all. He's reread them and reread them in an attempt to understand how he should feel but he still needed time to wrap his head around the reality of being in a relationship

Did feel like he needed permission from his master to be with you. Thankfully, Luther was happy (how cute!) as long as it didn't affect his pet duties. Nyen doesn't know what he would've done if Luther said no.

Doesn't like terms like boyfriend/girlfriend/partner, you're just his.

Calls you baby or sweetheart. Some pet names you’d hear a trashy construction worker catcall a woman down the street with. His gruff voice doesn't help

Doesn't really care what you call him as long as it isn't sickly sweet… does have the smallest thing for being called sir… but only in private!

He most likely wouldn't act much like a good boyfriend in front of people. Sorry, his own pride is just too high to look all lovey-dovey in front of others

Basically the embodiment of “he's just bullying you because he likes you!” you’d get from an adult when a boy would torment you in school. Except he actually does like you. Weirdo Nyen’s more comfortable when it’s just you, which means he doesn't feel the need to be brooding and scary in private

Loves to lay on your lap and have his head pet while he reads or watches television like the catman he is. Eventually falls asleep after some time so don't dare move.

Schedule tends to be the same, he's not all about change. His day consists of doing what Luther tells him, working out, and watching out for pests or danger

Still about the same since you guys have been together, but he tries include you in his day as much as possible

It can be nice, like him wanting you to watch him workout. Making sure to show off his abs and biceps… acts like he doesn't do it on purpose for you to oogle at

Nonchalantly boasts about how he can pick you up with ease, no matter what you weigh

Has in fact proved it multiple times by carrying you around place to place

Wouldn't mind you exercising with him– but be careful. He's a harsh trainer, can and will push you until you're a sweaty, exhausted mess. Kinda turns him on…

Other times, he’ll drag you into more dangerous or scary situations just so he can protect you

You're his perfect damsel in distress, someone to run into his arms and hold closely

Actually wouldn’t let you be in real danger. But if he knows he can handle it, (which he can) he’s not opposed to your praise about how he’s saved you

On the opposite end, Nyen also enjoys playing hunting and chasing games with you. There are times when he has taken you to a nearby forest, releasing your hand where the evergreens are the thickest, and in his low voice, he says, “Run.”

He loves to focus on the scurry of leaves crunching beneath your feet, the sight of your figure trying to keep up ahead of him, and the sound of your rapid breathing as he gets closer and closer

Nyen pounces and catches you every single time, dark pupils dilated with pure adrenaline as he constrains you. Hours will pass before you’re home again

There's not many date-like activities Nyen is interested in doing. Nyen doesn’t care to plan them, you live together anyways!

But if you insist, a picnic is the go-to. Simple, outside of the house, and he gets to have as much beer and undercooked chicken as you can stuff into a basket

Can also take you out on late night drives. Speeding down long, tree lined roads as CD music blasts with a hand resting on your thigh. (Nice!)

Does go out of his way to hit any animal(man?) unfortunate enough to be on the road. If he manages, he’ll pull over and make you look at the mangled body with him (Not so nice.)

Lots of territorial behavior. Nyen loves to share his extra clothes or his cigs (if you smoke) so you’re smelling like him. It just connects you two together, without having to say a word

Speaking of territorial… marks a lot. Biting, scratching, hickies. Even bruises if he's extra rough

He doesn't let you hide them. Would probably explode if he caught you trying to cover them with makeup or clothes and end up punishing you by marking even more

Libido is very high. Didn't actually get much action before being with you, mostly jerking off after a successful kill

But with you? Practically at any chance, he will

Doesn't care if you haven't showered, shaved, or prepped in any way. Will always find you incredibly attractive and irresistible

Even if you have periods, he’ll still pin you against the wall and rub his cock against you. The blood turns him on baby!

Has a fantasy of you being covered in the blood of one of his victims while he fucks you. Maybe less of fantasy and more of a goal. One day…

Treats it like a game, pulling and teasing you beforehand. Nails dug into your hips, a low voice in your ear whispering about how you’ve been teasing him “like the slut you are”

Drags you away from whatever you're doing. Not sneaky or polite when he pins you against the closest surface available, the only gentleness being the steady growl of his voice. Nothing possibly can't be as important as the need to stuff his aching cock inside what's his

Has fucked you in every room besides his Master’s and Randal’s. Would just be too weird…

A sadist (duh), but cares about you feeling good too. Won't hurt you too bad, though his definition of what is too bad might be different from yours. He wants you alive and mostly conscious

Made an effort to learn proper aftercare and to be less selfish, as he never felt the need to before

Still uses too much teeth when giving head and offers you a lukewarm bottle of water after sex… but it's the thought that counts!

Has a bunk with Nyon and still makes you sleep with him. Problem tends to be that it's wayyyy too tiny for both of you. You’ve complained to him to ask Luther for a bigger and separate bed but he gruffly responded for you to shut up and let him spoon in peace

Kicks Nyon out of the room a lot so it could just be the two of you. It's almost childish, bitching and hissing if Nyon doesn't give up his space. Poor guy, he just wants to lay in bed and smoke :/

Bit of a night owl, doesn't actually need to sleep much yet he still likes to. but does so very late. You’ll only know he's in bed when he snores against your neck

Always awake first, he's got more important things to do than lay around in bed with you (as he claims)

Will come back a bit later and wake you up with a cup of the most bitter black coffee in a cheesy matching mug. Just as an apology for the scratch and bite marks leading between your thighs he gave you last night. Drink it all, it's rude if you don't :(

[suiana]

Sometimes I feel like I see a lot of mean darling (no offense to the mean people out there, do whatever you like with your pathetic yanderes)

but what do you think of a darling that’s super nice and friendly but then one day someone says something stupid (like a homophobe or smtn lmao 💀) and they just immediately say “Kill yourself” with no hesitation, then when people tell them they can’t say that they just say “whatttt I’m just saying what we’re all thinking”? You don’t have to answer, I just really am going insane because I’m too scared to write this myself 😭

i like ur idea anon

(yandere! tsundere x gn! sweet reader) (reader is secretly very unhinged)

"ugh you're so- i hate you! you don't deserve to-"

"kill yourself."

the tsundere, who is your classmate, immediately shuts up, staring at you as his mouth drops wider and wider by the second. what did you just say? are his ears working right? there's no way you could've said that haha...

"what? could you repeat that?"

"i said, kill yourself."

your tsundere classmate and you maintain eye contact, standing in silence as the weight of your words sinks in. the reality that you had just cursed at him comes crashing down on him like a ton of bricks and all he can do is stare at you like a dumb fish. and the fact that you don't have your usual cheery smile and aura is adding to the shock factor.

like seriously?

did you just seriously tell him to kill himself?

...

did you get possessed?

hit your head on something?

or maybe you were threatened to act like this?

the tsundere puts aside his pride for a second, walking up to you and observing your face with a careful expression. hm... you look okay...

"h-hey are you okay? you can't just say that you know-"

"I'm just saying what's been on my mind."

the tsundere is even more shocked now. flabbergasted even. what happened to the sweet and friendly darling he knew?! who is this person?!

"who-"

"I'm the person you've always tormented. i just couldn't handle you acting like you hate me anymore that's why i said that."

you shrug at him before going back to being all happy and cheerful.

"anyways remember to do the homework! it's due tomorrow! bye bye!"

you then skip out of the classroom, humming a merry tune as you leave your classmate alone with his thoughts. he stares at the spot you once stood at, completely stoned as his brain lags and he tries to compute what just happened.

there's no way you actually said that... kill himself? are you serious?

but somehow, he can't help but feel even more attracted to you. huh...

maybe he's a masochist.

[mysticheathenn]

Hard Messages From Love

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is all about messages from love itself. If you were looking for a sign from any kind of delusions...this is it. Hopefully this isn't too harsh.

This is a general reading, remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help. Tarot should be used as entertainment and not a for sure answer to your problems but as a guide, a sense of hope, and amusement.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

MasterList

Patreon Link

Pile l:

Messages from love? Tarot: 2 of Swords, 9 of Pentacles (reversed), 9 of Swords, The World, The Chariot (reversed), 10 of Pentacles.

Things that may surround your mind about love? Give me a sign if things should end or if I am being paranoid. I can't eat or sleep about a decision. I feel suffocated by this person and I don't want to feel this way or leave them. I need to follow my heart but what if my heart is wrong? I deserve someone who shows and gives me the world. This person deserves the world and more than what I can give them.

Pop Culture Reference: Pride and Prejudice Move (2005)

Message: Someone here has been on your mind for quite some time. For some of you, this is a decision that you need to make regarding breaking up and for others of you this is regarding following your heart. Following your heart can go two ways: 1) breaking up or 2) giving someone you have "friend-zoned" a chance at dating you. Either way, your overall message is to follow your heart. Make the tough decision that needs to be made and stop second-guessing everything. If you haven't been happy in a long time in your relationship then it's time to leave. If you know dating someone would bring you great joy it's either you date them or be upfront and honest by telling them you are either scared or just don't want to be with them. Either way, you need to let that person be free to date someone who actually wants to be with them or has the guts to go after what they want. There is no long-term benefit of stringing someone along. This pile is also about the required action that needs to be taken place. There are so many things in this pile that are impossible to mention, but you deep down know what this required action is. It's the action that will give you freedom from the torment of your mind. This group reminds me of the scene in Pride and Prejudice where Mr. Darcy says "Miss Elizabeth. I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past few months have been a torment. I came to Rosings with the single object of seeing you. I had to see you. I have fought against my better judgment, my family's expectations, the inferiority of your birth, my rank, and circumstances. All these things I am willing to put aside and ask you to end my agony." (Yes, I had to put the entire iconic quote in this reading). Do the thing that needs to be done. Have the courage to either go after what you want or end what needs to be ended. No one can make or do these decisions for you. Just do it.

Pile ll:

Messages from love? Tarot: The Sun, Strength, The Tower (reversed), The Wheel, 2 of Swords (reversed), Death

Things that may surround your mind about love? Is this ever going to end? But I can't give them up. They will be back. They always come back. I want to be happy with only them. I need them. Ride or Die. Bad Marriage/relationship for life.

Pop Culture Reference: Round and Round by Selena Gomez, Will and Jada Smith's marriage

Message:

"We're going 'round and 'round, We're never gonna stop going 'Round and 'round, We'll never get where we're going, Round and 'round, Well, you're gonna miss me, 'cause I'm getting dizzy, Going 'round and 'round and 'round" - Selena Gomez. This pile somewhat was attracted to some degree to pile l. This pile is all about prolonging the inevitable when regarding a person. The tower card is in reverse and the death card is also here. There is a change that needs to happen between you and whoever this pile is about. The rain may fall today and tomorrow but eventually, you're going to have to give way and make room for the sun that desperately wants to clear some of the toxic patterns and unfulfilled desires that have plagued you for some time now. Just because someone keeps coming back into your life doesn't mean they are for you. Just because you have been with someone for a while does not mean you have to keep dealing with them because of history. History is great but also lessons are never learned there and you are not learning your lesson from the past history of this person or anyone else you have dealt with that is similar to them that you seem to not being able to escape. It's time to end the cycles you keep repeating. There is nothing romantic about struggling and settling. There is nothing cute about being a "ride or die" especially when that ride or die would watch you die. It's time to pull yourself by the bootstraps and end the cycles. You can't keep wondering why life gives you the same people with different bodies when all you do is continue to go after them or allow them to entertain you. Love wants you to know a change is coming and you're not going to like it. You may be left heartbroken to the point you may be turned off from love or people in general but you forced love's hand to do something you were not willing to.

Pile lll:

Messages from love? Tarot: The Emperor (reversed), 8 of Swords, Knight of Swords, 3 of Cups, Strength.

Things that may surround your mind about love? Speak no evil. See no evil. Hear no evil. Ignorance is bliss. I can fix him/her/them. Misunderstood. Little Red RIding Hood.

Pop Culture Reference: DW from Arthur "This sign can't stop me because I can't read." Link "This is your man. That's mine and I'm going to stick beside him." Link In My Head by Ariana Grande / Papa Don't Preach by Madonna

Message:

This pile might be attracted to pile ll but not all that much. This pile is for those who know someone isn't good for them but keep hanging around them. Your friends and family have told you this person isn't who you think they are or aren't how you keep trying to paint them. It's as if you keep trying to gaslight yourself into staying with this person because of the potential or the made-up version you have of them in your head. "My imagination's too creative, They see demon, I see angel, angel, angel, Without a halo, wingless angel" - Ariana Grande. You have the blindfolds on in this connection or about this person and you refused to take the blindfolds off all because what might either be of three reasons: 1) FOMO, the fear you might miss out on if this person does change or does something spectacular like get a record deal or win the lottery. 2) You have some sort of spiritual tie to this person through sex. For those who don't know yes, you can have an energetic pull or tie to someone through sex. If you find yourself in a dead-end relationship where you can't truly give substantial reasons as to why you aren't leaving even though you know the relationship has resulted in nothing but sex and history....soul tie. Or for most people it can be a codependency. 3) They suckered you into their web of victim mentality where they told you everybody has left them and basically uses the same techniques as an abuser to hook people into them to not leave. You remind me of the story of Little Red Riding Hood where it's quite obvious the wolf is a wolf and not her grandma but Little Red kept ignoring the signs of being in danger of the wolf. It's okay to lose out on someone. It's okay to want to be someone's cheerleader and see the potential in someone. What is not okay is when the person doesn't change or show these potentials that you know are somewhere in them. There is a saying that people change who they want to change for and unfortunately that person might not be you and that's okay because there is better out there who will or can match the person you want in your head and you have to stop to forcing those who don't want to be that person into that box.

Pile lV:

Messages from love? Tarot: 9 of Swords, Hange MAn, 5 of Wands, 5 of Swords, Queen of Wands, 9 of Pentacles (reversed).

Things that may surround your mind about love? They've changed. This time is different. Nobody is perfect. The heart wants what it wants.

Pop Culture Reference: Hanging on by Kim Wilde. Heart Wants What it Wants by Selena Gomez. 27 Dresses Movie.

Message:

It seems every pile might have two piles they may have been attracted to and pile lV you are no exception. You may have also been attracted to pile lll. Instead of having a blindfold on like pile lll when it comes to others or connections, you don't see your worth when it comes to matters of the heart. You constantly allow others to play you and you keep allowing them to because of the kind heart you have thinking that people change and maybe this time is different. It's wild how you would go to bat for people who treat you horribly but they won't do the same for you and for some of you you're okay with that because you feel you don't deserve healthy love or connections. Others of you, you secretly crave wanting someone to show you the same kind of love that you show others but low self-esteem as well as possibly history from dating people who don't speak positively to you have made you to believe you don't deserve that kind of love. You remind me of those who feel that they will always be the bridesmaid but never the bride, similar to 27 dresses. The main character was after a man who didn't even know she existed outside of her job (she loves her boss) and was always there for other people even when they were selfish and weren't there for her. You have such a big heart to give to others, but it's time to give your heart to those who deserve it. Stop allowing those who don't see your worth to treat you any kind of way. See a spade as a spade and not an Ace (again similar to pile lll). I don't know you pile lV but I wish I did so I can give you a big hug because you deserve all the greatness and beauty of this world. You shouldn't have to fight for a spot in anyone's life nor fight to have the love you deserve from others. It's time to pour that love you give to others back into yourself and attract healthy and loving relationships and people into your life.

Thank you for liking and reblogging my readings. I always appreciate you guys on here and on Patreon.

Stay safe and be blessed

[scromchz]

v for vendetta | elw (m.)

— your boss has seemingly had it out for you since day one.

contents. mean boss!ellie williams/intern!reader | smut, fluff | 3.1k

warnings. kinda loser!ellie, jelly ellie, cursing, mdni - smut, fingering, mild spit kink.

note. a reupload from prev blog with same name, with some edits. its a wee bit cringe to me so be prepared. but people seemed to like it so enjoy and happy pride month <3

© scromchz 2023 — all rights reserved.

Getting your foot into the corporate world was never going to be easy. You knew this before you even applied for the summer internship at the DarkHorse Tech conglomerate, well aware that you'd have to claw your way up from rock bottom without so much as chipping a manicured nail. But you were optimistic; freshly graduated from college, and ready to take the challenge head-on.

That was before you met Ellie Williams.

Boss to the company, and your personal tormenter. She made hell seem like a cozy vacation spot.

What you did to get under her skin was a mystery. Hell, you didn't even report to her directly. There were at least three meat shields between you and her within the hierarchy. But somewhere, somehow, you blipped onto her radar, and you have stayed there like a bad stain ever since.

She made your work life an agonizing affair, and nothing you ever did seem to please her. If anything it had the opposite effect. Paperwork you'd spent hours agonizing over was always a 'complete mess', and she'd keep you after hours in her office to belittle you without ever correcting any so-called mistakes.

She shoulder-checked you in the hallway and picked apart your appearance when nobody was around. It didn't matter if you were wearing a grandma sweater and a floor-length, shapeless skirt. She threatened to write you up for a dress code violation like you showed up in your birthday suit for casual Fridays.

You were sent on wild goose chases disguised as coffee runs to places that didn't even exist, then berated for arriving late and empty-handed. Or god forbid, with Starbucks. You were supposed to be doing data entry, for fucks sake. And if you were to so much as smile at one of your coworkers she would pop out of nowhere to tell you off for slacking, like a damn high-school hall monitor.

Anytime you tried to voice your grievances to your manager, they'd give you a sympathetic smile. What she says goes, they'd awkwardly relay, she's the boss. 

There was nothing you could do. She wielded all the power and flaunted it outright. During the mandatory bullying and harassment presentation she even singled you out, asking by name if you had any questions or if there was anything you 'didn't understand'. Message received. 

Today was no different.

She'd sent a pristine pile of cardstock flying out of your hands and onto the floor, tsking at you for being clumsy when she'd purposefully swiped at them. You had to get on your knees and meticulously pick up each one, all the while she loomed over you, a smug smile on her annoyingly perfect face.

Of course, you had to sacrifice your break to grab Ellie her own lunch from across town. While your coworkers got to enjoy their downtime in the breakroom you'd seen the inside of twice. You were exhausted, dropping her food off at her desk while she pretended you weren't there, but you couldn't even be bothered to care. That's not to say you didn't feel her eyes burning into your backside when you left.

What you didn't see was the furrow in her brows, concern lacing her heated gaze when she saw you were empty-handed. She knew for a fact she told you to get something for yourself when she handed over her card. Strike number one of the day. Not taking care of yourself was unacceptable. 

She kept a close eye on you through her one-way office window, which was easy considering she had your desk moved directly into her line of sight. You were hunched over your desk, periodically wiping at your tired eyes to keep focused.

Then your shit-stick fellow interns had the gall to shirk their duties onto you. Like rolling around in daddy's money made them incapable of using a fax machine. And you, sweet, sweet you, had the nerve to weakly smile and say no problem. Ellie's eyes narrowed, aggressively chewing on her straw like an angry gremlin. Oh, there's a fucking problem all right. Strike number two.

As the clock neared five-thirty, you were nearly home free. If only office fuckboy extraordinaire hadn't waltzed over to you. What happened next made Ellie see red.

He made you blush. Oh, hell no.

Faster than you could kindly reject Brad's offer to take you out, the door to Ellie's office swung open. The force smacked it harshly into the adjoining wall.

She dismissed everyone for the day, and in the same breath barked out your name. "In my office," her tone left no room for disagreements. "Now."

Brad sucked in his teeth, offering a 'good luck' before high tailing it out of there along with the rest of the office. You could already hear whispers of your name, musings of what you did this time to warrant such an explosive reaction. Nobody envied you.

With shaky limbs, you stood, cowering under the weight of her glare. She held open the door, forcing you to brush against her suit-clad chest. The click of the lock sent a shiver down your spine.

"Sit," she commanded. But clicked her tongue when you slid into your usual seat in front of her desk. "No, not there."

You looked around in confusion, thinking you'd misheard her over your thunderous heartbeat. She looked expectant. Not to mention pissed.

But a cursory scan of the room confirms your thoughts. There were no chairs besides Ellie's, and the one you occupied.

You were used to her outlandish demands, but this was a whole new level. She was being difficult just to be difficult. Did she expect you to sit criss-cross apple sauce at her feet?

You pause, reigning in your irritation. "I don't understand. Ms. Williams, is—“

Angling your neck in her direction, your speech falters. She's much closer than you anticipated. Leaning down, her face was mere inches from your own. Your cheeks heat, and you're momentarily struck by her looks from up close.

It pains you to admit it, after everything she's put you through. The very person who makes you dread waking up in the morning can make your tummy flutter at the same beat. She was good-looking, objectively speaking. With the whole freckle-faced, green-eyed thing going on. 

Plus she smelled good. Ugh.

Ellie's jaw clenches. "No. I don't think you do."

Before you can respond, probably with an unprofessional what the fuck, she's yanking you up out of your seat. You sputter, skin burning from the contact of her hand wrapped around your elbow. She uses it to maneuver you like a rag doll.

She purposefully steps forward as you stumble off-balanced and careen into her. Just when you think things couldn't get any stranger, Ellie abandons her hold on your arm, hooking around your waist instead, pressing your entire front into hers.

Her arms cage into you on either side of the desk, and it digs into your backside. "Your behavior today has been unacceptable. I should write you up—" 

Something in you snaps.

"Then do it!" You cut in. You'd heard this exact spiel a hundred times over. And despite her numerous threats, your record remained spotless. "I am so sick of this. What'd I even do to make you hate me so much?!"

Momentarily, you seem to stun her. Weakly she mutters, "I don't hate you."

"Yeah right," you scoff, throwing propriety out the window.

Both of you were crossing lines, and you had to accept that you'd likely be out of a job come morning. She was the boss, after all. Blinking away an onslaught of tears, you focus over her shoulder at the beige walls.

She doesn't let you avoid her gaze for long. To your dismay, both her hands grip your face, forcing you to meet her frantic eyes.

"I- fuck, I don't. Seriously. I just," her voice actually cracked. Panic gripped her clear as day, a stark contrast to her typical nonchalant persona. It kept you from stomping on her foot and high tailing it out of there, if only just to see this through and get some long-awaited answers. "I never meant to— oh, fuck it."

Her chapped lips crashed into yours and time stopped. She was actually kissing you.  

Frozen and wide-eyed, you see firsthand the way she melts. Her eyes flutter shut, pressing into you as close as possible so that you're forced backward — a few pens clattering off the desk

Never in your wildest dreams did you foresee this outcome. But for some inexplicable reason, you kiss her back.

Despite your shock, or the questions on the tip of your tongue. Your eyes shut, and your lips finally move against hers. A deep moan is pulled from the depths of her chest and into the slick heat of your mouth.

Grabbing at the lapels on Ellie's suit, you're pleased by how she bends to your whims, arching into you. Her hands wander, a timid quality you would've never attributed to her. She gives your lips chase when you pull away with a wet pwap.

"Why does this feel so, fuck-" you dazedly pant into her spit-slicked mouth. "So good."

"I can make you feel even better," she rushes out, thumbs massaging mindless circles into your hips. She looks drunk, glassy-eyed and flushed pink. "If you let me. Please."

Please. What a trip. You had half a mind to search the room for hidden prank-show cameras.

This new power you seem to hold over her thrums in your veins. It overshadows any lingering doubts, muting the little voice in your head that says this is a bad idea. Instead, you give into the giddy feeling, letting it rush to your head like fizzy soda bubbles. 

Tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, you nod. "Then touch me."

Her eyes light up like a kid on christmas, and her lips stretch into a toothy smile. It's crooked—but hell, is it cute.

Ellie hitches your legs around her hips and pulls your weight into her arms, all the while lavishing your neck with deep sucks. Mindlessly she says things like sweet girl, and even a succession of garbled thank you's. It throws you for a loop; but you can’t deny the way it makes you ache.

Kicking the rolling chair out of the way, she takes you both down to the carpeted floor, laying you gently beneath her. After getting the green light, her hesitation melts away.

Slipping under your shirt, she hungrily palms your tits beneath your bra. The tips of her fingers are calloused, but that fact only seems to heighten your pleasure when they pinch your nipple. With the hand other cradling your skull, she licks into your mouth.

Distracted by her sweet taste, you're caught off guard when Ellie jams a knee between your thighs, forcing out a squeaky, embarrassing moan.

"Fuck," she detaches with a pop, sounding awestruck. Resting her forehead against yours, she peers down. If only she could burn the image of you grinding against her, she would; driven further mad by the feeling of your hot cunt, searing even through the layers separating you.

Suddenly she sits up, shedding her suit jacket and rolling her sleeves to the elbow. She's the picture of sin. Somehow you never realized she was so toned— and, is that a tattoo?

You follow her lead, wriggling out of your blouse and tossing it aside. She helps you with the rest of your clothes, eagerly dragging down your skirt and leaving you in just a pair of cotton panties and a bra. You shy under her unwavering stare, not used to feeling so seen.

"You're unreal," she breathes, resting her hand on your tummy. Her stare lingers on your clothed pussy, the wetness seeping through making it mold to your puffy lips. A proud smirk appears on her face. "You're soaking, fuck. Do ya' always get this wet?"

You squirm, grabbing hold of her wrist. Not to stop her, just with the intention to anchor yourself. "Ms. Will-"

"Ellie," she corrects. She splays her long fingers and slides downwards, stopping to fully cup your heat. "Can I?"

"Yes," you whine, feverish with need. Ellie glides your underwear down your legs, knocking your knees together and pushing them toward your chest for easier access. Once off, she stuffs them into her pocket with zero shame.

Hunkering down, she grips your inner thighs, thumbs maddeningly close to where you're throbbing for her. Splaying them wide for her viewing pleasure, she sucks in a breath and the first sight of your glistening cunt.

"Knew your pussy would be cute," her husky voice drawls. She spreads your sticky folds with her index and middle finger, a string of slick keeping them connected. Exposing your flushed clit and twitching hole, she puckers her lips and with a puh, spits directly inside. Fucking hell— your hips buck, brain short-circuiting.

She doesn't let you get far. Ellie just chuckles, pinning your lower belly with her forearm. Now that she had you like this, there was no running away. Not when you'd only gotten a taste of the pleasure she intended to bestow.

She massages your opening with her thumb, just dipping the tip inside to ease you into it, feeling like sweet torture. Your core gets all cramped up from clenching around nothing, winding yourself up up up. Finally, she slips two of those long fingers inside, knuckle deep.

Scrambling for purchase, your grip finds her wrist like a bracelet. It seems to be your go-to, and you carve out a permanent place there with your nails. So slowly it aches, she bottoms out before tentatively thrusting.

"Oh m'god," you babble, eyes rolling. "oh m'god, you're inside me. I can feel you inside—!"

Ellie shudders, both at your words and the feel of your hot, wet cunt wrapped around her. Taking a deep breath is a mistake; she just gets a lungful of your heady scent. Combined with the feeling of you soaking her hand, her eyes full on roll to the back of her head

"Jesus." Her palm slips up your stomach, taking in every tense of muscle as an orgasm winds up in your core.

Tucking her fingers up in search of your special little spot, Ellie prods a bit before bingo — you clench up tight. You can't think, let alone speak. You can't recall a time you'd ever come so fast, but every curl of her fingers has you climbing up higher and higher to that peak.

Needing to be closer, Ellie plants her free forearm next to your head, upping the pace with her other hand. It grants her a front-row seat to every micro-expression you make, and she tailors her movements to what has you reacting best.

"Look at me," she murmurs, nose grazing your cheek. It takes a moment to comply, her voice sounding far away like you're underwater. "Good girl."

"El," you gasp, legs beginning to shake. Your eyes locked, begging for something.

"I know," she hushes, pecking your lips. She watches with bated breath the way your face crumples when her palm fits against your aching clit. It's just what you need, and your thighs keep her trapped there, grinding back and forth.

In a matter of seconds that feel like a lifetime, you reach your breaking point, cumming around her fingers. Every spasm pushes out a wave of stringy-slick, dribbling down her curled wrist and onto the floor. You don't envy the poor soul who will have to clean it up.

Ellie gently eases you back down to earth, shushing you softly. You can't recall when she slipped out, but from the corner of your eye, you see her stuff them into her mouth.

"Shit," you mutter. As the haze of lust starts to clear up, regret takes its place. You just let your boss, who gets their rocks off making you miserable, finger you on the floor of her office. God dammit--

"Hey," she says gently. It's the opposite reaction you're expecting. Instead of kicking you out, she sits you up, slipping her big jacket around you. When you're decent, she grabs and cradles your hand in two of hers. "I meant what I said. I don't hate you. The opposite, actually."

"Wha-" at first you tilt your head in confusion. Then you really take her in. The shifty eyes, the way she’s pulling at her fingers, those red capped ears of hers. Everything clicks. Oh. "Oh."

It never escaped you how she never paid anyone else the same level of attention. That even at its worst, she never truly hurt you. Just menaced you enough to become a fixture in your life.

"Yeah," she trails off.

"If you're serious, I need you to promise me something."

Ellie's gaze snaps to yours, completely moon-eyed. Reinvigorated, she laces your fingers together, planting a kiss on your knuckles. "Anything."

"One, no more bullshit."

She winces but readily agrees. "Of course."

"And two," you continue before she can jump the gun. "You take me out on a real date."

This gets you a real kiss. "I'll fly you to fucking Paris, whatever you want. Money is no obstacle."

You laugh against her lips. Jesus, this girl. "How about dinner and a movie to start."

"Fuck yeah. Sounds perfect."

For a few minutes, you bask in the moment, exchanging kisses before beginning to redress. Balancing with a hand on the desk to get your shoes on, you pause, suddenly remembering something.

“Can we circle back to the seat thing?” You ask, referencing her ridiculous demand from earlier. “Where were you even going with that?”

It takes a few seconds for your question to register, her mind and body still fuzzy. Then she flushes red, from her neck to the tips of her ears. Was she blushing? Now you were beyond intrigued.

“The desk,” she stutters. Your big scary boss actually stutters. “I was gonna, you know,” she clears her throat as if to dislodge the words. 

Your grin is cheshire. “No, I don’t.”

“Like in the movies n’ stuff,” it’s as if it pains her to admit this. You eat it up. “I was gonna clear off the desk and make you sit there. It was supposed to be... sexy.”

You can’t help it. You laugh. “By 'clear' do you mean toss onto the floor?" You ask, eyeing the very breakable cutter on her desk. The image makes you laugh even harder, bellyaching. "You know that would’ve scared the shit out of me, right?”

Her pout deepens. Ellie buries her face into your neck, muffling her voice. “Shut up.”

[ollypopwrites]

Happy Pride Month I am nothing but a sappy bisexual who wants to make love to her video game wife.

Karlach pre-engine fix mutual masturbation.

Karlach x F!Reader

CW: 18+ (MDNI), dirty talk, slight switchy dynamics. Horny and sweet, just like our fiery friend.

❤️‍🔥 you just want some alone time with her not even sexual you just like being around her

❤️‍🔥 sitting in her tent with the flap only barely closed cuz of the heat but your determined to withstand it

❤️‍🔥 but gods it’s hot in there so you remove your shirt. You’re all sweaty and in your underclothes and trousers and now it’s even HOTTER when you notice Karlach’s starting to burn blue

❤️‍🔥 she makes a needy noise “you’re killing me soldier”

❤️‍🔥 “sorry” you say sheepishly, “should I go?”

❤️‍🔥 “don’t you fucking dare.”

❤️‍🔥 it’s torture for her. You’re soooo close, close enough to touch, but she just can’t and even though she’s literally playing with fire somehow it’s worse to think of you leaving

❤️‍🔥 she just crosses her legs stretched out in front of her and her tail wraps around herself tight, trying to maintain self-control

❤️‍🔥 her reaction excites you and you can’t help but speak. “you always ask what I would do if I could touch you,” you lick your lips as a bead of sweat drips down your temple and onto your neck, her eyes watching it as it goes. “But what would you do if you could touch me?”

❤️‍🔥 “everything. I’d do it all.”

❤️‍🔥 she sounds so different. She’s always loud and joyful and silly, but now her voice is so much lower and rougher. You can tell how badly she wants you just by the tone.

❤️‍🔥 “tell me.”

❤️‍🔥 “I want to lick the sweat off your neck there,” her eyes are glued to the spot. She blinks a couple times, “we’re playing a dangerous game here, baby.”

❤️‍🔥 your smile feels wicked as it spreads on your lips. “Live a little,” you tease.

❤️‍🔥 “I’ll burn you,” she says, truly tormented. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

❤️‍🔥 “you won’t.” At her confused look you bite your lip. “You stay over there and I’ll stay here.”

❤️‍🔥 it takes her a minute to understand what you mean ( 8 INT + horny brain, she’s doing her best) but she groans and grins “gods you’re a genius.”

❤️‍🔥 “tell me where you want to touch me” you don’t mind taking the lead, it’s been years since she could entertain the idea of a lover, years since she could experience anything like this with someone else — it’s okay if she needs some help figuring it out again

❤️‍🔥 “I’d touch your face first,” she tells you, and you caress your hand over your own cheek, “touch your lips” you drag your middle finger over the sensitive skin

❤️‍🔥 “take your hand, kiss the palm” you instruct, and when she does you say, “close your eyes.”

❤️‍🔥 she just holds her hand there for a moment eyes screwed shut, you can hear her lips smack against the palm of her hand. She makes another quiet noise, and you let her enjoy the image of it for a moment.

❤️‍🔥 “I’d rip that top off.” She says once her eyes open, gaze glued to your chest. You don’t rip it, but you do remove the last piece of clothing keeping your breasts from her view. For a moment she just stares.

❤️‍🔥 “grab them,” it’s half of a demand, half of a plea, and you do as she asks. Grabbing your tits in your hands, squeezing and massaging them. Karlach’s nearly panting, as she tugs down her own top. You admire the glow of her skin, blue against red in a beautiful contrast, and the way her nipples are already hard.

❤️‍🔥 “play with - I wanna play with your nipples,” she breathes, her own hand coming up to her chest. “Do you like that?”

❤️‍🔥 you nod, a white hot flash of pleasure shooting down your spine as you pinch the the soft skin. Your head tilts back, and you rub your legs together for some friction. “Are they soft? Gods, I bet they’re soft.”

❤️‍🔥 “they are,” you breathe, eyes opening to watch her mirror your movements, little noises of pleasure and heavy breathing akin to how she does in a fight making the space feel hazy. You’d never be able to watch her fight again without getting wet, the dark focus in her eyes looks so similar, the rough grunts and bright heat you can feel radiating off of her all too familiar

❤️‍🔥 “pants, take ‘em off,” she says.

❤️‍🔥 you both wriggle around on the ground, careful not to touch as you take off the remainder of your clothes. It feels good, the heat in the tent is overwhelming but you find it adds to the excitement of it. You feel loose, relaxed and now that there’s no sweat slick clothes sticking to your skin, it’s comfortable.

❤️‍🔥 “you’re so gorgeous,” she huffs. “It’s not fair. I just want to touch you.”

❤️‍🔥 “trust me,” you reply, eyes roving over all of her muscle, all the scars and marks and infernal ridges of her skin, “I know what you mean.”

❤️‍🔥 “open your legs for me, darling,” she says, and immediately you have to swallow past a dry throat. She’s getting more used to it now, she’s feeling confident, and knows exactly what she wants.

❤️‍🔥 you spread your legs, exposing your wet cunt for her, and she bites at her lip. She does the same and you want to bury your face there, let her ride your tongue for as long as she likes, to start claiming back years of pleasure that was she was denied.

❤️‍🔥 “I wanna kiss a trail down to that pussy, baby,” she breathes. “I want to taste all of you.” You tickle your hand down your torso, her watching as you do. Her hands twitch on top of her thighs.

❤️‍🔥 “you can touch yourself,” you remind her. “It’s okay.”

❤️‍🔥 “together.” Is all she can seem to find the brainpower to elaborate on.

❤️‍🔥 you nod, dipping your fingers between your legs, watching as she rubs the seam between her legs but never dips her fingers inside. You spread your lower lips, showing her all of you, the lewdness of the gesture and the way her jaw drops making you twitch

❤️‍🔥 “are you wet?” She asks. “For me?”

❤️‍🔥 to prove it to her you rub through your folds, the wet sounds almost drowned out by the sound of heavy breathing but Karlach is pinpointed into every move and sound you make, and she hisses at it. “Fuck, you dirty girl. Soaked for me. Good.”

❤️‍🔥 oh. Well. You hadn’t expect her to get so comfortable so quickly, nor had you expected the slightly authoritative tone. But you certainly aren’t complaining.

❤️‍🔥 “show me what you like,” she tells you. “When I get my hands on you, I wanna know what makes you scream, love.”

❤️‍🔥 “you first,” you challenge.

❤️‍🔥 Karlach gives a truly wicked grin. She finally gives in, her fingers delving into her cunt. You watch, mesmerized by the lick of flames that dance on her skin, as she dips a finger into her hole, dragging wetness up to her clit where she slowly starts to circle.

❤️‍🔥 you lick your lips, rubbing gently at your own, it’s simultaneously so exciting and frustrating. You want her. You want her to touch you, you want to kiss her, you want to hear those low grunting moans in your ear—

❤️‍🔥 “I know, me too.” The tadpoles must have connected your consciousnesses, and you had a fleeting flash of embarrassment, hoping no one else in the camp had also been included in the connection.

❤️‍🔥 Karlach was twitching, hips rolling up to meet her own touch as she slunk down slightly. Her other hand played with a nipple, pinching and squeezing hard and rough. You memorized the method, mouth watering to put the stiff peak between your lips.

❤️‍🔥 “fuck yourself with your fingers,” she breathed. “I wanna see.”

❤️‍🔥 you sunk a finger into your own heat, the soft wet walls taking the intrusion easily, you were quickly losing focus as you gently pumped in and out.

❤️‍🔥 “you can do more,” she said, eyes intensely trained on you. “Know you can.”

❤️‍🔥 another finger then, anything she wanted, you would certainly do. You pumped, curling your fingers best you could to hit that spot that you loved but it was just slightly out of reach. You knew she’d be able to hit it easily.

❤️‍🔥 “gods I want to try everything with you,” she whined. Her fingers her dancing over her clit, quicker and more urgent. “Would you let me fuck you? Like with a toy?”

❤️‍🔥 “fuck,” you shuddered, “yes.”

❤️‍🔥 “bet you’d beg for it,” she grinned wickedly. “A big red cock, strapped to me so I can feel it in my clit while I rail you. Fuck.”

❤️‍🔥 “thought about it a lot, have you?”

❤️‍🔥 “you have no idea.” She was getting excited, all the things she wanted to do bubbling to the surface in a hazy stream of consciousness she spoke out loud. 10 years of only being able to fantasize seemed to have given her very detailed images of exactly what she wanted, and she was happy to share them with you.

❤️‍🔥 “Just wanna see your hole stretched for me, lick your clit and fuck you until you squirt for me,”

❤️‍🔥 “fuck - Karlach,” you breathed in shock. You had asked her to tell you what she would do if she could touch you. But the list of ideas was so long, so delicious you started to feel yourself tipping towards coming hard.

❤️‍🔥 but she wasn’t ready to stop telling you everything she wanted. “Grinding our cunts together, until we can’t come anymore, hold you down on the ground and ride your face — play with your pretty pussy so you see stars while I fuck myself on your tongue -“

❤️‍🔥 “Karlach,” you chanted her name, “I’m —“

❤️‍🔥 “yeah? You there?”

❤️‍🔥 you nodded, unable to speak much else.

❤️‍🔥 “do it, please, let me — fuck yes.”

❤️‍🔥 you cut her off with a needy whine, back arching and hips rolling into your own hand. Wave after wave of satisfaction making your body break out into a new sheen of sweat, heart thudding in your chest.

❤️‍🔥 Karlach groaned, her hips bucking as she hit her own release. Her entire body burned bright blue, the rush of heat in the tent making your skin tingle. It was entirely worth it to watch her ride out her orgasm, until she fell limp on the ground.

❤️‍🔥 a moment of quiet as you two breathed heavily, the hot air making it even more difficult to slow your breathing down. You were parched, covered in sweat and still twitching.

❤️‍🔥 Karlach laughed. A loud, throaty fully bodied sound that made you grin. “Gods, soldier,” she sighed. “I nearly burnt the camp to the ground.”

❤️‍🔥”worth it, if you ask me.”

❤️‍🔥 “completely.”

❤️‍🔥 she was quiet for a moment. “You know what else I’d do?” You hummed in response. “I’d hold you. All night. Just want to have you near. “

❤️‍🔥 your hand came out, just close enough to hers that it was tolerable to your skin. It was something you two had started doing, hands just close enough to touching as was safe — the closest you could get to holding her hand.

❤️‍🔥 “I’m here.” You assured her. “I’ll never be too far.”

🔥 she grinned, and the engine in her heart glowed.

[bl00dlight]

Ghostly Flame

Aemond Targaryen x OC sister x Alys Rivers {NSFW}

Warnings ● Carpet munching, graphic language, general smut, FxF, age gap, targcest, dubious consent, drugging?, not proof read

Word count ● 3k+

Author's Note • This was meant to be a one shot. Now it's a two parter. This actually has a plot. I dont write smut without a plot and the x reader is so overdone atm. So ive written up an OC. This part is some serious lesbo action. Happy pride to all my homo milf lovers. This one is for you.

Masterlist

Part I

The halls of Harrenhal were no place for a Targaryen. Somber and damp... shadows cast by no flame engulfed the walls. It was an odd place, a cursed place. 

As the great Targaryen civil war raged on, Prince Aemond Targaryen had seized Harrenhal for himself after his uncle, Daemon Targaryen fled it. There, Prince Aemond enacted his plan of destruction upon the Riverlands. Burning all, innocent or otherwise, loyal or traitorous. Indeed, Prince Aemond did not discriminate for who would meet the fires of Vhagar. 

However, none met his wrath quite like the House Strong. For Aemond slaughtered all Strong Bastards and Strong nobles he might come across. Leading to the House facing extinction. No man, woman or child seemed to escape the Targaryen Prince's wrath... but one... a bastard woman by the name of Alys Rivers. 

A witch, whom he took as his war prize. A bedmate to distract him during the cold and clawing nights in Harrenhal. The Prince swore he heard the screams and cries of those he had slain. Though he dare not admit it, it unnerved him. Alys' talents in apothecary came most useful to him, for she oft brewed him tonics to ease such tension he claimed was from war. 

Though he had found other measures in which to use the woman for, when it came to matters of easing tension. Alys was a woman of many talents indeed.  The Prince could seldom admit to himself the bastard had grown on him, something he kept hidden within his heart.

Just as his younger sister was, tucked away in Harrenhal's stoney depths. The Princess Daera was a delicate thing, much like her sister Helaena; unaware of the evils that dwelled around her. Unaware of the depths of depravity and violence her own brother held buried within him. Or so Aemond thought. 

After Rhaneyra had taken back King's Landing, the Princess Daera had managed to escape her half-sister’s capture. Being aided by a Kingsguard to flee the capital and join her brother Aemond as he campaigned through the Riverlands. 

They had settled in Harrenhal for several weeks now, and Daera had spent most of her time dwelling it's cursed halls. At times sitting in the Godswood with the raven haired bastard Alys Rivers. 

Daera found it strange how the woman had taken to her. Sometimes insisting on helping her bathe and dress. The bastard claimed it was her nature as a wetnurse, and was in servitude to Prince Aemond and the Princess. That it pleased her to tend to Daera. 

Though it was apparent how Alys unnerved Daera at times, finding her staring intently. Her green eyes locked upon the Princess's soft form. 

Similarly to Aemond, Princess Daera oft took the tonics Alys left for her, since her arrival at Harrenhal also came with paralyzing nightmares. Tormenting the princess with strange and devastating visions. Visions of her family's death... of Aemond's death. 

Some of which leaked into her waking moments. Daera had oft found herself coming to Aemond in the dead of night, frozen with terror as she had heard disembodied voices calling for her... yearning for her. 

●

Princess Daera sat in her chamber, it was a far cry from her former one in the Red Keep. The walls stoney, grey and the bedding always cold and lumpy. Only the fire provided the much needed light which seemed to get lost amidst the shadowy landscape of Harrenhal. 

She rose, making her way to her bed. The hour was rather early considering, but there was little else to do once it darkened outside. And it was a great comfort for Daera to hear the bustling of people still awake. Far better that the void of silence the castle was known for. 

The soft howling of the wind echoed through the halls outside, and Daera tried her best to ignore the frightful noise. This place... chilled her bones like no other. 

Daera turned her head, looking out the thin windows etched into the stone. Gazing upon the moonlit landscape of the Riverlands; all burnt to a cinder now. No doubt her brother’s doing. 

As she came to her bed, she sat and saw the tonic Alys had left, neatly placed upon the side table. Daera brought it to her lips, drinking it squarely and she prepared herself for the familiar wince that would follow as the bitter herbs hit her tongue. But it did not come. 

It tasted different... sweet? 

A warmth filled her bones, an ease. Mayhap Alys had found a new recipe, one which was more effective? As the princess laid down, her hair pooled like a river behind her. She shut her eyes, drawing the covers over her frame. The feeling spread from her chest to her toes. Easing her, mellowing her temper. She stretched, indulging in the bliss of it, like a cat in the sun she could feel herself go mindless to its heady comfort. The world around her felt softer, kinder. Even the lumpy bedding. With that, Daera drifted off and the Princess's dreams were as strange as they always were. Though less terrifying admittedly. 

She dreamt of her chambers and its strange silence. Of herself, sleeping. In the dream the Princess opened her eyes, awakening to the dark, stoney chambers. The fire dimmed and the world around her cast in a strange fog. 

Outside, the wind wailed softly and she came to the window, gazing upon the scorched earth lit by the pale light of the moon. It was an odd sight. Such beauty, forever scarred by flame. What irony that the Riverlands were now dry. 

Suddenly, she felt a familiar chill run through her bones. The same chill she oft has in his nightmares. Her eyes widened, and Daera remained still until her attention was drawn by a voice which beckoned from the halls. 

Daera turned, tilting her head as she walked slowly towards the doors. Her pale nightgown and robe trailing. Her heart thumped slowly, though the voices grew, she did not fear them for some reason... 

As her hand came to the cool doorknob, Daera turned them slowly, carefully pulling the heavy wood. What she faced was nil but an empty hall. Shadowy, lit only by the strands of moonlight which casted a fractured glow upon the stone. Daera stood back, a trickle of fear running through her as the halls themselves felt like a looming force not to be disturbed. 

But the voices grew again, beckoning her. The Princess couldn't quite make out what they were saying, some in fact seemed to not be speaking in the common tongue at all. But they were soft, luring. 

Daera followed them, slowly moving through the halls in a daze. Her body coursing now with that familiar warmth from earlier. If she wasn't sure she was already dreaming, she could've sworn she might fall asleep.

She made her way through the dark, half unknowingly. It seemed the world around her melted into the shadows. The only confirmation Daera had she was moving forward were the peaks of light from the thin windows. The dark had engulfed her completely. It seemed the halls were but a maze she had no sense of navigation for, but as she came across two large doors, a strange feeling bloomed within her. That this was where the voices were leading her too. 

Daera opened the door, her eyes heavy as they set upon the familiar sight. Though it was dark, only lit by a few small candles and a dying fire. The chamber was streaked by the moonlight illuminating a sight she had seen many times. Aemond's bed. Somehow, it seemed she ended up in his quarters here in Harrenhal. 

Despite having walked what she thought was the opposed way. 

She entered, closing the door behind her and when she turned again, she was met with pale skin, raven hair splayed out upon Aemond's bed. Alys. 

Daera stopped, her eyes opening as she came to see how the woman lay bare. Her sharp face peering up at the princess, and giving her a warm smile. 

Alys moved, sitting up slowly and Daera turned her head; a coil of embarrassment within her that she would walk in upon Alys in such a state. 

But the bastard only gazed, her green eyes leering over Daera's curves. The two women said nothing, before Daera felt the sudden urge to turn to face Alys. 

At first she wished to cringe, but as her eyes scanned the bare and pale flesh of the woman before her, that warmth grew. 

Daera found herself taking in Alys' breasts, her hips and thighs. The silvery ripples of stretched skin upon her belly, contrasted with her raven hair - thick like a belt of the night sky. 

The Princess moved closer and closer until she stood before the witch. Alys sat neatly upon the edge of the bed gazing upwards. Daera's eyes grew wide, both with desire and shame. 

It was a forbidden temptation to indulge in, an act which would tarnish Daera forever; even if it was just a dream, even if it was the conjurings of her mind... to know such desires lay within her was enough. 

Daera stepped back, uncertain - just as she did the pale and harsh grip of Alys snatched her wrist. The witch tugged her closer until her legs were pinned between the sitting Alys.

"Where are you going... surely you wish to stay." Her voice had curled, a thick sultry husk as she glanced up at the Princess. 

Daera felt herself shake slightly, her mind reeling at the thought of it all. But she nodded, sparking a smile from Alys. 

"Good..." Alys murmured. "Sit yourself here...." She gently patted the edge of the bed, a gesture which seemed less of a request and more a demand.

Daera sat quietly, the warmth spreading through her as she took a peak at the pale and soft bare flesh of Alys beside her. The Princess squeezed her thighs together to stifle whatever feeling dwelled between them. 

The witch snickered, moved closer before she let her hand slide upon Daera's clothed thigh. Alys leaned in, her lips grazing her ear, "I can smell such shame... and such desire..." Her voice but a whisper. 

Daera froze, her eyes watching as Alys hand slid between her clothed thighs. 

"All this cloth you wear, it is such a hindrance. Surely it does no good for you to adorn something so... restrictive." The witch whispered once more, feeling the layers or fabric which hid Daera's skin. 

"Modesty is a virtue for women..." Daera spoke softly, shakily. Though the conviction in her voice weak. 

Alys tutted and scoffed, "Mm... is that what the Dowager Queen taught you? That you are but a vessel to be adorned by the virtues men bestowed upon us? You are a dragon... my girl." The witch let her pale hands come to Daera's robe, peeling it off her. 

Alys discarded the robe to the floor and Daera let her. The Princess caught in a daze of uncertainty and desire. The warmth spread through her core at the mere suggestion of what the bastard woman claimed. 

The princess felt cool lips at her neck, kissing and siphoning at her skin, as hands worked to rid her of her nightgown. Daera let out a shuddered breath. 

"Indeed, I've much to show you Princess. Just as I have the Prince..." Alys spoke lowly, raising her brow as she revealed Daera's form before her. Her small clothes still sitting over her pelvis. 

The princess turned her head, catching the green eyes of Alys. A chill ran down her spine at the mention of her brother. They were in his bed... doing such sinful things. Exactly where the witch had surely gotten her brother to do the same. 

Daera tilted her head, her eyes pleading as Alys had grabbed her chin, pulling it so their faces met. The witch's fingers then grazed over Daera's plush lips as she whispered.

"Such pretty lips... gone unkissed.." Alys inched forward, cupping Daera's jaw. Suddenly their lips met in a slow, languid kiss. Daera found herself slightly shocked by the sensation. It was... wetter than she had expected. 

The princess leaned in, as that warmth spread through her. She kissed Alys back, winning a small moan from the woman. Alys grinned, feeling a sense of victory dawn over her as she reached between the Princess's legs, grazing the warmth of her clothed core. 

Instantly the sensation sent Daera reeling, she found herself turning, kneeling upon the bed as Alys did the same. The Princess let her hands come to Alys' hair, trailing down until she reached the soft peaks of her breasts. 

It was swiftly that Alys' herself moved her lips to Daera's neck, trailing down until she reached the Princess' plush breast. Her lips wrapped around the pink bud which adorned one, sucking softly. 

Daera tilted her head back, her eyes wide and she found her hips moving equally upon Alys' hand as it rubbed against her clothed core. It was so wrong, so utterly unthinkable that she dare let her brother's bedmate touch her. 

Yet Alys muttered against Daera's breast, her hands now finding the band of the small clothes which covered the Princess' core. "Such a desirous girl..." 

Suddenly, Alys forced Daera to lay flat upon the bed. The witch hovered above her, pulling the small clothes from the Princess' form. 

Daera looked upon Alys in a complete daze, the warmth which flooded through her blood had rendered her useless to any protest. And she watched as Alys slid down, pulling Daera forward until her legs dangled over the edge of the bed. 

The bastard pulled herself to kneel directly in front of Daera. Her head was now level with the princess' thighs, and as she looked up at her knowingly, a maligned smirk played on her face. As the small clothes fell to the floor Alys' hands began to crawl up the princess' thighs, trailing upwards, like spiders upon white silk. 

The witch sat up, her own thighs pressing into the bedding as she gazed up at Daera. Her fingers found purchase on the princess' upper thighs gripping and then parting them. Daera gasped, squirming as she watched the witch claw towards her, her head settled between Daera's open thighs. 

"There we are..." Alys purred, as she pressed her face against the Princess's flesh, kissing her lightly, taking in her scent. The witch muttered once more, "Sweet... like moonbloom." 

Alys took her time, kissing and nipping at the soft skin of her legs.  The witch's hands gripping and stroking Daera's flesh. 

"Have you ever had someone before, princess?" she asked, her breath warm like a summer evening.

Daera looked down, her brows furrowed in surrender. Her core aching and wet, she had never felt she desire before, never felt such need demand it be tended to. The Princess whispered, "No..." 

"Mm, as I thought, a flower left to wilt." The witch let her lips move upwards, trailing towards Daera's core, she spoke once more, "How lucky I am to be... to taste not just a dragon, but a maiden too. Lovely..." 

Alys placed a kiss upon the princess' core, though feather light, was but enough to make Daera's body shudder. 

The witch chuckled, her breath hot against Daera's slick folds, "Sensitive..." she murmured, a smirk upon her lips.

And just like that, Alys used  her hands to spread the princess' legs further, swiftly clasping her mouth upon Daera's cunt. 

The witch's tongue began to move, swirling as a serpent against the sensitive skin. She lapped up Daera's wetness and the princess was all but awe struck by the feeling. She parted her legs further, her hands coming to Alys' black locks, tugging at them. 

Her head falling backwards in bliss, mouth hung as a soft whimper left her. The feeling of Alys' tongue upon her felt like fire shredding through her skin, Daera moved her hips slightly chasing the intensity. 

As the princess' head dropped back Alys let her gaze wander upwards, enjoying the sight of the girl unleashed. Such a demure temperament Daera seemed to embody, seemed all but lost as the Princess groaned. Alys felt satisfaction coil in her, to have the silver haired girl brought to a whorish state only fueled the witch's ministrations.

She pulled back for a moment and muttered, placing teasing kisses upon the wet cunt before her, "Does it feel good, sweet dragon? To feel my mouth where no man has laid claim to you before?" Alys' voice like a siren song. 

The teasing kisses and soft tone of the witch made Daera whimper once more, she nodded. Her voice trembling, "Yes... my Lady.." 

Alys chuckled, enjoying hearing the princess call her 'lady'. The sight was one which was most wanton, the two women in such a vulnerable embrace, indulging in desires that would surely see them hung. Though a strange flicker of affection coiled within Alys. Unlike her brother, Daera was easier, sweeter. She was not used to such control, for usually she was the one to lay below a dragon. Aemond was rarely tender in his touch, at times it had seemed he merely wished to relinquish himself of something than indulge as Daera seemed to. 

Indeed, Daera seemed desperate for it, longing to be touched so tenderly. It was only a few times Alys had managed to encounter such need from Aemond. To have him laying in her arms, wrapped in an embrace. Though he oft acted above such affections after they took place. 

Alys tilted her head and spoke cooingly, "Such a pretty thing you are...such pretty sounds you make." With that, her tongue curled, finding the sweet, pulsing core of the princess once more.

Her hands gripped and pulled Daera closer, until she was all but pressed flush against the witch's face. Alys moaned at the sensation of her own cunt flooding with desire. 

Quickly, Daera felt the intensity building. She moaned, her head tilting further back as her back arched into the feeling. What a dream this was, what heavenly visions her mind had created. The pleasure so intense Daera hadn't noticed the sly sound of an open door. The slow, heavy footsteps of boots upon the creeking floor. 

A lonesome eye narrowing upon the scene. Raven hair buried between pale thighs. Silver hair catching in the thread of moonlight upon his bed. His paramour's lips upon his sister's cunt. 

It was no dream at all. 

○Part II○

[hauntingofhouses]

yall ever think about how one of the first times we see taigen kill anyone onscreen it's a "dishonourable" kill he does out of revenge.

like before this we hear akemi's father mention him killing 24 people in duels, but we never actually see taigen kill anyone onscreen until this moment. he helps mizu temporarily evade the archers in episode 3, but he doesn't actually kill anyone; the archers are invisible to them and the viewers. then he gets caught and tortured and when mizu finds him again, he's too weak to actually do any damage to anyone and mizu just slaps him away during the "bell tolls" fight sequence. and then skip to the final episode, there's that moment where he and ringo charge through the front door to meet the shogun, but even then it doesn't really look like they did any real damage and that's why they get easily caught after. only is it in this scene do see him in the background killing fowler's men alongside mizu, before finally taking centre stage and making this kill.

him killing heiji shindo in this way just shows how far he's come as a character. it's symbolic of him following in mizu's footsteps, not only in getting revenge against a man who's wronged him, but also in shedding his usual code of honour.

like this man got everything stripped from him by the boy he used to bully as a kid and then proceeded to be completely changed by that same boy.

his entire worldview and values were flipped all the way upside down. from wanting to be rich and powerful to just wanting to be happy. and all because of this one person, who, by "ruining" his life, actually made him a better person.

this beautiful badass stoic mysterious incredible strong arrogant intelligent person whom taigen has come to completely respect and admire by the end of the season.

someone whom he'd thought was ontologically evil by the nature of their birth, someone whom he himself had tormented in the past, now just constantly changing and saving his life and showing him there's more important things than ambition and pride.

imagine being so changed by your greatest rival. oh taimizu nobody is doing enemies to lovers like you!