#hide x reader smut

[ringsofsaturnnnn]

i'd like to play roulette with the red chips, please 🥺🙏

and may i also have a cosmopolitan 🍹😌

(i hope i did that right HAHAHA)

.˚ 💛┊..⃗. 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 ⌇

MDNI | h.nagachika x fem!reader

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨(𝘴) :: pet names, oral (fem receiving), piv, praise, unprotected sex, edging, use of ‘daddy’ and ‘slvt,’ unprotected sex (let me know if i missed anything!)

𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 :: mack i’m fr so glad you requested hide. i love him sm 😭💛. i’m sorry this took so long. i reallyyy hope you like it!

© 2023 ringsofsaturn | please don't copy or repost my works! i have not given permission to anyone to repost my works. reblogs/comments/likes are okay!

𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥

tag list :: n/a

“honey, i’m home!”

those three words were always your favorite to hear. while they were simple, they meant a lot to you. it meant that your husband, hide, had returned home to you yet again.

being a member of the ccg wasn’t exactly the safest job in the world. you knew why your husband worked for them, but it still didn’t make you worry any less.

getting up from the couch to greet him, you flashed him a smile. “there’s my pretty girl.” he cooed after kicking his shoes off. your eyes roamed his body, taking in his features. he always looked so damn good in that uniform..

“honey?” his voice pulled you from your thoughts. blinking and shaking your head, you laughed slightly. “oh, sorry. i was uhm..” trailing off, you couldn’t help but look away. you didn’t necessarily want to admit to your husband that you were checking him out.

“admiring me?” he finished for you. he reached out and cupped your cheek with his hand. moving your head, he forced you to meet his eyes. swallowing, a small blush covered your cheeks. you went to speak, but every word that you thought of died on your tongue as you looked into his eyes.

“come on, angel. use your words. aren’t you going welcome me home?” he teased, a soft chuckle escaping him. the sound was like music to your ears as you looked at him. “w-welcome home.” you stammered out, repeating his words. “oh, come on. that’s it? no, ‘i love you’ or anything cute like that?”

hide had always loved messing with you. he enjoyed how flustered you got. “i-i..” leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips to silence you. “don’t worry, i’ll get you to use your voice.”

“hide!” a soft moan escaped your lips as he continued to draw lazy circles around your clit with his tongue. your fingers gripped the bedsheets tightly as you threw your head back. you could feel him smirk before he pulled away. “yes?” he chuckled, licking his lips.

“s-stop teasing.” you whimpered. he had been edging you for a good ten, maybe fifteen, minutes now. all you wanted was to cum, but he was denying you the satisfaction. “aw, my pretty girl wants to cum?” there he went teasing you again.

nodding your head, you looked at him. “please.” your voice was shaky as you gently bucked your hips. “ah, ah.” he shook his head, his blonde locks falling over his forehead. gently pinning your hips to the bed, he looked down at you with those chocolate brown eyes of his. they were always so warm and full of love.

a soft whine escaped you as you looked at him with pleading eyes. “don’t whine, sweetheart. i’ll let you cum.” he smiled at you before burying his face between your legs once again. he was quick to slip his middle and ring finger inside of you, his tongue immediately latching on to your clit.

“a-ah!” you squeezed your eyes shut as he immediately began pumping his fingers in and out of your sopping cunt. his tongue swirled around your clit, making you clench around his fingers. you could feel him chuckle, which made your eyes roll into the back of your head. “h-hide! fuck!”

it wasn’t long before your fingers found his tangled, messy locks. gently tugging on them, you felt that familiar feeling start to build in your stomach. you prayed that your husband would finally allow you the release you so desperately craved.

“p-please,” you cried. “please let me cum!” you could feel yourself hurdling towards your climax. “go ahead, angel. you’ve been a good girl.” he murmured around your clit. with a soft squeal, you felt yourself cum around his fingers. your fingers gripped his hair harshly.

hide gently pumped his fingers in and out a few more times, helping you come down from your high. once he was satisfied, he pulled his fingers out, watching as a string of cum followed. “such a good girl. came so much for me.” he praised. bringing his fingers to his mouth, he immediately licked them clean.

your chest rose and fell with every breath, your eyes still closed. after a moment, you opened them. hide was kneeling next to you on the bed, a smirk decorating his features. a bulge was noticeable within the tight confines of his navy blue slacks. “a little hand, love?”

you were quick to sit up, your hands immediately reaching for the belt that held up his slacks. “so eager.” his tone was teasing as you fumbled with his belt. after a few more minutes of you fumbling, hide decided to help you out. his fingers made quick work of removing his belt, the sound of the leather sliding out of the fabric making you drool.

the second his belt was discarded, you quickly undid his slacks and pulled them, along with his underwear, down. his dick immediately sprang free, the tip red and already oozing precum. “look at what you did to me angel. you’re just too damn pretty.” pressing a kiss to your lips, he carefully pinned you down to the mattress. while he kissed you, he finished discarding his pants.

“‘m gonna fuck you so good.” he murmured. you whined against his lips, spreading your legs to give him easier access. “that’s a good girl.” he chuckled as he slowly slid into you. a pornographic moan escaped you, your eyes immediately squeezing shut.

“taking my dick so well, pretty girl.” he praised as he slowly started thrusting in and out. the bed dipped under the pressure of bodies as he started to move his hips faster and faster. “a-ah!” your arms had looped around his neck as he pushed his hips flush against your groin.

resting his forehead against yours, he couldn’t help but press another sloppy kiss to your lips. “so fucking deep!” you cried against his somewhat chapped lips. he continued to roll his hips against yours, allowing every inch of him to fill you up. “and so b-big!”

that had hide chuckling. “yeah? but you can take it. i know you can, pretty girl. you always take my dick like a champ.” he groaned. hide couldn’t help but praise you, especially when you were a sweaty mess underneath him. while he loved how you looked no matter what, his favorite way to see you was fucked out underneath him. it made the long, grueling hours of working for the ccg worth it if it meant he could come home to his perfect girl.

“i-i’m gonna cum, honey. where do you want it?” soft pants escaped him, his body sticky with sweat. you only whined, not giving him a direct answer. leaning down, he whispered in your ear. “if you don’t tell me, i’m going to cum in this slutty little pussy and you’re just going to take it. take it like a good girl.”

his words made your eyes roll into the back of your head, your hips bucking harshly against his. “d-do it! cum in my slutty cunt, daddy!” you whined as you felt yourself come undone on his dick. the second your velvety walls squeezed hide’s already sensitive dick, he came. “o-oh fuck!” he gasped.

he thrusted his hips a few more times, carefully working the both of you through your climaxes. as you both came down from your high, you couldn’t help but let out a giddy giggle. “what’s got you all giggly, cutie?” hide asked.

“oh, i’m just glad you’re home..”

dividers & main picture made by :: @strrynigghts

[joelsdagger]

intermission || joel miller x f!reader

shout out to @dinandwhiskey for feeding into my delusions for this one and to @skrunkly-scrimblo for the beta <33

pairing: daddy dom!joel miller x f!reader summary: movie night with joel doesn’t go to plan, or joel fucks your mouth while you’re sleeping. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ rating: 18+ MDNI warnings: [No Outbreak], established relationship, age gap [reader is 24, joel is late 50’s] , dd/lg dynamics, daddy kink, somnophilia [no explicit consent in this fic but she’s cool with it, therefore dubcon], oral [m receiving], face fucking, deepthroating, finger sucking, praise kink, pet names [little bug, little angel, baby, the works lol], references to tummy bulge, references to unprotected p in v sex, mentions of creampies, cum eating, reader can be carried [tho in my mind joel is huuuuuge so size kink as well], Joel’s POV. word count: 2.3k a/n: happy father’s day (iykyk) :3

series masterlist | masterlist | ao3 | playlist

dividers by @saradika-graphics

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. 

I don’t fall asleep during movies, daddy, you had sassed him. 

Whatever you say, little bug. 

That was an hour ago and now you’re resting your pretty little head against his belly, your hand tucked beneath your head. You look so peaceful. So pretty. So soft. So – pliant. 

He really shouldn’t. 

But then your hand slips from under your head and falls to rest a hair's breadth away from his clothed cock, it jumps in his sweats. You’ve practically pavloved him to react like that with just a mere graze of your fingertips. 

“You got no idea what you do to me, sweet girl, drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy over here,” his voice a low rasp, reaching for your fingers and gently pulling them from his lap, squeezing your fingertips twice before resting them atop his thigh. 

You’re completely limp, deep in your sleep and Joel is unable to control himself.

He snatches up the remote, hastily turns down the TV, shoves his gray sweats down to the middle of his thighs and frees his semi-hard cock. He wraps a hand around the base, gives it a firm tug, and rests the tip of his length on your lips.

He stills and swallows hard. He shouldn’t do this. He can’t do this, it feels selfish to take what he’s been desperately wanting from you — for the better part of an hour — when you’re unable to respond. He should wake you. 

But then, almost as if you’ve made the decision for him; your lips part and a soft moan releases from you, mmm, daddy. His cock twitches against your lips, opaque droplets already gathering at the slit. Your lips stay parted and the glistening tip slips between your plush lips. 

“Fuck– ” He groans at the sensation, eyes rolling back into his head, hand flying up to the back of yours, cradling your skull in an attempt to anchor himself as he slowly rolls his hips up into you. He stiffens fully at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth around him. It feels fucking incredible. 

How the hell did he get here? A rare lazy sunday night with you on his lap, taking a man almost three times your age in between your lips, letting him use you in your sleep. 

He remembers first laying eyes on you. You showed up on his porch one night, not too long ago, with sparkling eyes and a shy smile on your face. He didn’t even hear what you had said to him, too distracted by the soft skin of your exposed thighs just below the hem of your pale pink dress — barely covering the plump shape of your ass — and the flow of your hair as a wave of muggy summer heat swept past. He thinks it was something about the leftover cake from your birthday. He only guessed that from the sad, fat square slice of funfetti birthday cake held up in a flimsy paper plate before him, the letters jaggedly cut down the middle of the celebratory phrase.

Joel is a strong man; at least that’s what he tells himself. He knew you were too young for him. The split letters that barely spelled out twenty-four on your birthday cake told him as much. Trouble, he’d muttered. He still mumbles that occasionally when you push his buttons, though hours later, he often finds himself burying his length deep inside of you, tears pricking your eyes while he stretches your needy cunt.

But then you glanced up at him with wide, curious eyes and flashed him a big, toothy smile — the prettiest little thing he’s seen in all his long, hard years — and he cracked; his cement walls came crumbling down. He brought you inside his home, into his too-small bed, and fucked you until you cried, until you asked him for a break only to climb on top of him minutes later, begging him to feed you his cock again.

His cock pulses on your tongue at the memory, your voice high-pitched as you cried, Daddy, please, I want it. And Joel couldn’t resist his special girl. How could he? When you softly gasped into his mouth as he pushed the blunt head of his cock past your puffy folds — nuzzling in and making a home for himself — where he belongs. Your warm, drooling cunt sucking him in to the hilt, sheathing the entirety of his hard length inside your messy little pussy. 

Joel is a strong man, but not when it comes to you. 

Please, please, I need to feel it inside me. All the way up here, daddy, you whined, one hand gliding up your belly, the other fisting the fabric of your lace-trimmed dress. He just couldn’t resist you. So he fucked you and fucked you deep, until he was in the soft pouch of your tummy and poking through from the other side, just as you had asked of him. He fucked you full of his spend, until your poor, tiny hole couldn’t take any more of his cum. 

He’d damn himself to hell before he’d refuse you. He only hopes you don’t deny him if you wake. 

His deft, roughened fingers brush the hair out of your face before settling his hand back on your head. He sits up and leans over; marveling at the stretch of your lips around him, sweat beginning to pool at the nape of his neck and the corners of his temples. 

He feels filthy. A dirty old man. He’s never taken you like this before. But it doesn’t feel wrong. He’s only missing those pretty sounds you make —

You stir and let out a soft moan around him. Sweet Jesus, there you go. Your head dips lower down his belly, nestling more of his length into your hot mouth. Atta fuckin’ girl. Let me in, baby. Open up real big for daddy. 

“Such a naughty little thing, lettin’ me fuck your throat while you’re sleepin’, just needed to be full o’me huh?” He whispers softly, and at that, you hum. Joel can’t help when he bucks up into your mouth in response, saliva pouring past your lips and onto his graying pubic hair. 

“Fuck, baby, you like gettin’ daddy all messy? Like chokin’ on daddy’s big cock?” He taunts, a grin tugging on his face. 

Once again, as if you can hear him, you hum. 

You’re so damn responsive. Or maybe you just like having his dick in your mouth.  

“Fuck, yeah, you do,” he pants, his voice strained with restraint. His free hand glides down to the swell of your ass — the softest skin he thinks he’s ever felt — and hikes up the frilly hem of those pink sleep shorts that he likes a little too much — the ones speckled with tiny red hearts — over one cheek, grabs a handful of your plush flesh, and squeezes. You moan, and Joel feels your tongue twitch, feather-like, beneath the heavy weight of his cock, then pressing up against the thick, pulsing vein on the underside of his shaft. He bites down on his lip to muffle the loud moan that sneaks past his lips, the back of his head hitting the couch behind him. 

“Goddamnit, takin’ me so damn well, even in your sleep, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he babbles, his eyes shut tight as he revels in the feeling of himself in your mouth, the action movie silently playing on the screen flashes against his eyelids, measured shaky breaths escaping him. The strong hand on your head easing you lower and lower to take more of him, your lips now grazing the drool drenched hair at his base.  

Your mouth feels like velvet around him — warm and soft and so perfect that his hips cant upwards unconsciously, the pace of his thrusts increasing. He’s losing himself in the haze of his fast-approaching release, a deep-seated tension building in his gut, teetering on the edge until—

You splutter around him and Joel’s head snaps up to peer down at you, your eyelids flutter open against the soft glow of the television.

“Shit, baby. ‘M sorry,” he rasps and quickly retracts his hand from your head. Yet, you don’t pull yourself off him, instead you curl your weak fingers into his thigh. You don’t want him to stop. 

“You want me to keep going?” He asks gruffly, he knows you can take him, you’ve done it countless times since you have met. He’s trained you well. Yet, he needs to be certain he’s not reaching your limit. 

You drag your lips off his cock, an obscene wet slurping sound fills the too still air, letting off him with a pop and maneuvering yourself to sit up on your knees. “Yes, please daddy,” your voice still thick with sleep, peering up at him with an innocence to your needy gaze; a mixture of drool and precum coating your pouty lips. 

“Christ,” he mutters, under his breath. Such a pretty fuckin’ sight. One he reckons he’ll never get tired of seeing. He can’t deny you. Not when you look at him like that. 

“Okay, baby, here,” he murmurs, his hand retakes its place on the back of your head, guiding you toward his aching cock, your lips latch onto the fat head — all angry and red — and he inhales a shuddery breath as he watches your face contort at the stretch of him in your mouth. 

Your tongue flattens underneath him and he presses himself deeper into your willing mouth, filling you up and messaging the walls of your throat with the wide head of his cock. 

His grip in your hair tightens and a low groan rumbles in his throat, “There you go, baby, hold still.”  

Fucking hell. He could keep you here forever. 

“So goddamn pretty like this, baby,” Joel grits, “Love havin’ your mouth stuffed full o’ my cock, huh?” 

You make a low muffled sound around the length of his cock.

“S’right, you do,” he answers for you.  

His free hand trails down the length of your body, instinctively gripping the meat of your ass, dull fingernails digging into your skin, just barely grazing your puckered hole. You whine around him, the vibrations from your throat has him flexing his fingers your hair in response, and with shallow, quick thrusts of his hips, he fucks himself into your mouth. 

Fresh tears begin to sprout in your eyes as you gulp hard, your throat constricting around him. Joel feels his throbbing tip choked tight at the small opening at the back of your throat. The warm walls of your throat so tight — so good for him — the muscles in his belly tighten, and the hand on your ass is quick to join the other on your head, gripping your skull. “Shit— that’s it, angel. M’comin’.” His dick pulsates on your tongue, and a loud, guttural groan spills from him as hot, thick spurts of his cum coat your throat. His hand holds you there, firmly pressing your mouth flush to his spit-smeared balls. He feels you swallow around him again, and he whines quietly. The muscles in his jaw go slack, and his head falls back onto the couch while he lazily thrusts upwards, his leaking head bruising the back of your throat as he empties the last of himself into your mouth and filling your belly, his chest heaving from exertion.

He lifts his head when he feels you pull off him; you cough softly against him, the warmth of your breath brushes against his now softening cock, and his hooded gaze meets the sight of a thin string of saliva and cum dribbling from your wet, puffy lips, tears dripping from the corner of your eyes and down your cheeks. “Oh, c’mere, little bug, lemme see.” 

Just as he taught you, you plant a small, wet kiss on each of his heavy balls. Joel sighs through his nostrils. Fuck. What did he do to deserve you? You’re too good for him. You scoot over to sit up in his lap. Joel feels the slick between your legs through your tiny shorts when you press against his soft cock. He lets out a little groan; if he hadn’t just come, he’d be getting hard at the sensation.

His hand reaches to grip your jaw, angling your face up as you present him with your open mouth, the corners of his lips twitch at the sight of the walls of your little throat; empty, swollen, and used. 

“My filthy girl, you did so good f’me,” he cooes, coaxing away your tears and swiping your glistening lips clean. He pushes the pad of his thumb — covered in slobber and cum — into your mouth and presses it onto your tongue. Your wet eyes lock with his as you enthusiastically suck his thumb clean. 

Man alive. Maybe you’ll damn him to hell.

You release his thumb and giggle, biting your lip and smiling up at him dreamily. “Thank you, daddy, I liked it,” you rasp quietly. 

“Yeah?” He breathes, both of his hands on either side of your face, thumbs stroking your wet cheeks. 

Your wide, glassy eyes meet his gaze, “I like when you do things that make you feel good, it makes me feel good,” your voice hoarse and small, fingers toying with the collar of his t-shirt.

“Well – you always make daddy feel good, little angel,” he praises, leaning forward to lay a long kiss to your forehead that elicits a breathy sigh from you, your eyelids fluttering closed. 

“You tired, baby?” He whispers, tucking your soft hair behind your ear, fingers stroking down your hair and twirling the end of the gathered strands between his fingers.   

You yawn quietly and give him a slow, small nod, a sleepy smile to your face as you sink down in his lap, your weeping cunt throbbing against him. He’ll play with your perfect little pussy in the morning. Maybe your other little hole too. 

He chuckles at that. “Alright, little bug...” he starts, tucking his soft cock back into his sweats. He scoops you up into his arms; his weak, achy knees pop, and a low grunt spills from him as he stands, “Bedtime.”

[augustinewrites]

"i love hearing your voice first thing in the morning."

you roll your eyes, resting your phone between your cheek and shoulder. nevermind it's mid afternoon. "aventurine, listen—"

as expected, he does no such thing. "don't care why you're calling. just that you're calling."

you can practically hear that smug, handsome grin on his face. "about your assignment in penacony—"

"oh yeah, sorry i had to take a rain check on our date. i ran into a few bumps along the way."

"what date?"

"the one i'll be dropping by in ten minutes to finally take you on." you hear chatter in the background now. he must have just entered the building.

you quickly check your reflection in your office window. "with an explanation for your expense report i hope."

"so you do get my messages! did you see the picture i attached?"

you did see the shirtless hotel selfie he'd attached to the report. you'd done him a favour and removed it (and saved it) before sending it off to your colleagues. "you gave that trailblazer hundreds of thousands of credits for unapproved 'bribery costs,' as you've called them."

"yep," he confirms, popping the 'p.' there's a few beats of silence as he pulls the phone away from his ear. your phone vibrates with a notification.

e-transfer: AVENTURINE sent you credits!

500,000 credits, to be specific.

"seriously?" you ask, shaking your head.

"don't worry, it's not ipc funds," he assures you. "i won it fair and square. use it buy yourself something to wear on our date. something gold."

"i'll be using it to pay rent for the next few months," you inform him, opening your banking app to deposit the credits. "but maybe i'll blow a little on something fun first."

"oof. speaking of blowing—"

your office door is suddenly thrown open, aventurine strolling inside with his arms wide open.

you stand, rounding your desk. aventurine kicks the door closed, then leans in for a hug, only to be stopped by a printed copy of his expense report pressed into his chest. "we need to talk about this."

"nah."

"nah?"

he takes the report, ignoring your protests as he throws it over his shoulder. "hey—"

he quickly closes the distance between you, cupping the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss.

and you— well, you kissed him back, letting him crowd you up against the wall. annoying as he was, you couldn't help but want him a little too.

when he slides a hand under the hem of your pants, you grab his wrist, pulling back to look at him. bright eyes watch you curiously.

"oh no. you first, hot stuff."

"hot stuff, huh?" he grins, already pulling his shirt over his head. you try not to stare at his spectacularly toned torso for too long and inflate his ego anymore. "i like it."

he moves back in for another kiss but you lean back, gaze flicking to his pants.

he quickly undoes them, pushing them down to his ankles and leaving him in just his boxers.

only then did you let him kiss you. again and again and again.

"okay, that's enough," you tease, leaving him with one last kiss to the corner of his mouth. you're breathless, flustered, face warm in the aftermath of your office makeout.

"hey, hold on—" he's quick to groan, shuffling after you with his pants still around his ankles. "where could you possibly be going right now?!"

you turn to face him once you've pulled the door open, holding up your phone. "i'm going to buy something gold to wear for our date."

[sahkuna]

needed to write a drabble about sukuna being that hot older brother you always look forward to seeing at your best friend’s (yuuji) house... eee!

UPDATE: there’s a FOLLOW UP to this drabble

content warning: f! reader, smut, childhood "friends" with benefits, best friend's brother trope! oh and modern au:]

he’s only a couple years older than you, (by three years, if you want to be exact) and you’ve been acquainted with itadori yuuji's older brother— sukuna— multiple times.

whether it was through seeing him over at the itadori household during high school or being invited out by yuuji to sukuna’s new place a couple years after college— sukuna had always been a lingering presence in your life.

your relationship hadn’t been anything more than exchanging brief pleasantries whenever needed. until things start growing more suggestive as the two of you grew older.

it wasn't planned. the kissing, the meet-ups late at night, him deliberately lingering around when everyone else seems to have left the room. there were too many incidents to recall.

but one thing lead to the next and...

the slapping of skin on skin can be heard throughout his apartment, echoing against the walls of the vacant hallway that leads towards the doorway of sukuna's apartment.

tucked away behind his bedroom door, is quite an obscene scene. with your chest pressed against his mattress and face covered deep into his pillows, there's only so much left for you to do as you stick your ass up to receive the rough pounding from sukuna's thick cock.

the coherent sentences you used to form a few moments prior have slowly turned into a series of whimpers and broken moans all while sukuna has a tight grip on your waist pulling your ass flush against his hips so he can bury himself deep into your sweet cunt— unprotected.

you forgot how this came to be, of who convinced who to dip their toes into the world of sex with each other but you're damn glad that it happened.

"oh god," you blurt out between cries. sukuna's left hand drags down away from your waist, and finds its way toward your clit. "ah—! please, don't stop! that's… so good, so goo—ah!" you just about lose your mind when his fingers tease your sensitive clit in slow, torturous circles.

there's a mean, wicked smile tugging at the corner of sukuna's lips. his brows rise in amusement at how quick you are to fall apart in his hands— quite literally at that, too. "think you can hurry up and finish before your friend comes back?" sukuna asks, tone unwavering despite how his hips thrust into you repeatedly.

ah. your friend. his brother. the fact that he doesn't even bother to address him by name and does it dismissively would have you chiding him to be nice— but you're too far gone to digest what he said.

between the touching and the fullness of his dick pressing and rubbing against the walls of your pussy, you squeeze your eyes shut and wail. "please, please— i think i'm—!" your hand shoots down to hold onto his wrist. but you don't pull it away from you, despite how overstimulated you feel. "shit!"

when sukuna pulls out briefly to rub the head of his cock against your slit, you whine at the loss of him. with shaky hands you press your palms against his mattress, and make a weak attempt to change positions onto your back.

"please, put it back in!" he's definitely gonna make fun of you for begging later. but perhaps a higher power decided to have mercy on you— just this once— because sukuna's back between your thighs and stretching your hole.

fuck him, fuck him, fuck him and his stupid, girthy cock. and the smug ass expression he's probably got on his face right now.

despite that all, you wanted to kiss him. just the thought of it was—

the harsh sound of a fist pounding at his front door tears you from your thoughts. you're about to question who it is until you hear a voice from the other side that you know all too well.

"answer your phone, sukuna!" wait, why's yuuji here? "if you're gonna invite me to your place, at least do it when you don't have some girl over!"

"are you crazy?!" your voice is sharp, incredulity seeps through your tone.

with his dick still submerged in you and his hips rolling at a languid pace tacked with the sound of the gentle plap-ing of his skin against yours, — as if his fucking brother wasn't technically right the fuck there— he offers you a mere shrug. "forgot i invited him over."

and fuck him for being your best friend's older brother.

[anchoeritic]

cowboy!ellie keeping you bound with one of her ropes. your wrists rubbing against one another as the harsh grip of the rope secured the two above your head. “could look at you all day — keep you tied up even after i’m done with you, sugar.” the centre of your panties pooled with your own slick listening to ellie’s raspy words. “bet you’d like that though, right? makin’ you sit here all day, have you think about what else i could do to you?”

with your head thrown back, you could only watch so much as to what was happening beneath you. her fingertips following the trail of her saliva, inching closer and closer down south. her hot breath against your skin already got you going, it didn’t help that her tongue had already made a path before even keeping you still. “gonna make my girl keep her panties on just to watch how soaked they really get,” lips brushing against your stomach, “shows me how much you really need me, don’t it baby?”

you let out a soft whimper in response, trying to buck your hips upwards. she only chuckled at your weak attempt, gripping your waist to keep you down. her other hand coming up to cup your jaw. “already need me so bad, darlin’? haven’t even gotten started and your pussy’s practically beggin’ for my attention.”

[wcnderlnds]

impatient | peter maximoff (smut)

✧ a little extra follow on to this fic but can be read separately. ✧

・❥・warnings: 18+ nsfw. it's just pure smut. explicit language, female reader. ・❥・ authors note: uh. this is the first time ive ever posted smut or fully wrote a whole fic of it so... IM NERVOUS BYE.

The movie had been completely forgotten about now. All Peter could think about was the way your lips felt on his, the way your tongue was in his mouth tangling with his. When you shifted in his lap, it was over for him. That was all he could handle. He pulled his lips from yours, breath heavy as he held you in place on his lap.

“What about the movie?” He said, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

“Who cares?” You mumbled, hands sliding down his shoulders and along his chest. Peter took a sharp breath in trying to focus but it was very hard — literally and figuratively — when you were sitting on his lap looking flushed from your make out session; your cheeks all red, lips swollen. It was probably one of his favourite looks on you.

“I thought you did, considering you bugged me for days on end to sit and watch this with you.”

”Well, I want to do something else now,” you slowly rolled your hips against his, eliciting a growl from his lips. His fingers dug into your hips as he helped you move against him, guiding your movements. Slow and tortuous — you knew how much going slow tortured him and that’s exactly what you wanted to do. Get him so worked up that he snaps and gives you exactly what you want.

The friction of your hips rubbing against his him was almost too much for him. His head was thrown back on the couch as he guided your movements. It was then you took the opportunity to press your lips to his neck - lightly at first then gently nipping, leaving a nice red mark there, claiming him as yours. Watching him explain that hickey to everyone tomorrow was going to be your amusement for the day. He was at his wits end, he couldn’t take it anymore as he pulled you up from his neck, crashing his lips against yours hungrily. His hands wasted no time in grabbing the edge of your shirt, tugging it off over your head and throwing it across the room. He couldn’t care less about anything other than getting you naked now. His touch was desperate and needy as his hands roamed up your sides, around your back and to the clasp of your bra. In an instant, he had it undone, throwing it behind him. You couldn’t help but giggle against his lips at his eagerness. Your skin felt like it was on fire at his touch, the desire burning up inside you. 

His lips trailed down your neck with wet, open mouth kisses as his hands palmed your breasts. He lightly squeezed causing you to moan against his mouth which in turn made him smirk. As revenge, you rolled your hips against his harder, the outline of his cock prominent against his sweatpants. “Can’t wait anymore,” he breathed. You were almost certain he was using his powers when he pulled off your shorts in a blur, his own sweatpants gone and thrown to the side.

Now free from the confines of his sweats, you could see how hard he really was. As your hand reached out to palm him, he grabbed your wrist with a shake of his head. “Nuh-uh. I’m not fucking around right now. If I’m not inside you within the next second, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna spontaneously combust and that’d all be on you, babe. Imagine cleaning up that mess.”

“So dramatic,” you rolled your eyes at him but instantly shut up the second his hand slipped inside your panties. His fingers expertly began to rub circles against your clit, adding pressure that caused you to squirm in his lap fighting back a whimper.

“Not so sassy now, huh?” He smirked. His fingers moved faster against you, teasing between your folds with ease.

“Thought you didn’t want to fuck around?” 

“Now who's impatient.”

He pulled his fingers from your panties making sure to make a show of licking his fingers of your arousal. The sight alone was nearly enough to make you cum. He pulled off your panties quickly, discarding them with the rest of your clothes that were scattered around the room now. Peter shuffled you off his lap for a moment as he lifted his hips to pull his boxers off. His cock sprang free against his stomach, hard and aching. Biting your lower lip, you settled yourself back on his lap.

Reaching between your bodies, you grabbed his length and positioned yourself above him. Slowly, too slowly for Peter, you sank down onto him. The groan that fell from his lips sounded like heaven, a gasp of your own echoing through the room as he filled you up. “Fuuuuuck,” he grabbed your hips tightly.

He gave you no time at all to adjust to him before he was thrusting his hips up into you. Hard. He slipped in and out of you easily - it was a marvel to him how wet he could get you without even really trying. Your hands gripped his shoulders as he kept pounding up into you. The moans passing your lips were music to his ears as he hit all the right spots. Finally, you managed to get him to still when you stuck your tongue in his mouth, stopping him in his tracks allowing you to start moving your own hips. His moved mouth hungrily against yours as you fucked yourself on his cock, Peter looking between your bodies as he watched himself disappear in and out of you. ‘What a damn beautiful sight’, he thought.

“F-Fuck, so good, baby. So good, keep going,” he praised as his hands slid up your back. He pulled himself up so his chest pressed against yours, the skin on skin contact only driving him closer and closer to the edge. One hand tangled in your hair, pulling your mouth back down to his. The only noises heard throughout the room were the slapping of skin and your moans that weren’t swallowed by Peter’s mouth. As you rode him, you felt that familiar coil start to build inside. Peter picked up on it, feeling you clench around him and suddenly you were on your back on the couch, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked into you at an animalistic pace. “Shit… fuck, need to come, baby. Let go. Let go for me. Not gonna stop until you do.”

As much as he wanted to let go, he needed you to finish first. Peter was anything but selfish. 

His babbling in your ear along with the feeling of him deep inside you was enough to send you over the edge. Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging at it as your body arched into his. “Peter!” You cried out, body shaking as your orgasm hit you with such force you were sure you saw stars.

That was all it took to send Peter over the edge. “Fuck,” he hissed, pulling out (he really had no excuse to have a bad pull out game) and stroking his length until he painted your stomach with his release. In an exhausted heap, he threw himself down beside you. His hand lay on his chest as he caught his breath back.

“We might have to watch that freaky little doll again if this is how it ends up.”

“Are you saying Chucky turns you on?”

Peter had zoomed off to get a damp cloth to clean you up, reappearing in front of you in a blur of silver and blue to catch what you said. “What? No! Don’t twist my words, weirdo.”

“Wait until you find out there's like five of these movies. Can’t imagine how horny that’ll make you,” you teased. Sitting up, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips in thanks. 

“Hate you.” It was a pathetic mumble against your lips.

“Not what you said five minutes ago.”

[hyuniyz]

HAND PLACEMENTS !

PAIRING. skz x gf!reader

GENRE. smut.

NOTES. yall this was js so thirsty 😭 but i hope yall enjoy !! also if u know me irl and u see this.. turn a blind eye pls ^^ | like my work? buy me a ☕️

★ chan ( 방찬 )

he leans back in his chair, chuckling to himself at the eager way you throw yourself down on your knees in front of him. eager to have your hands on him, eager to please him. his assessing eyes watch your hands that fiddle with his belt impatiently and he tsks, the sound reverberating in the otherwise silent studio. your eyes dart to his at the sound, scared at the possibility that you had done something to displease him. however he extinguishes your worries. chan threads his fingers into your hair and tugs, harshly. the loud moan you let out seems to take both of you by surprise as you stare at your boyfriend with your eyes wide. he only chuckles at your embarrassed expression before pulling you forward and connecting your lips. kissing chan has to be your favourite thing you think. you love the way his tongue caresses yours, the way he angles your head in a way that allows him to kiss you even deeper and the way he’s so attentive to your needs. so attentive in fact that he’s tuned to notice when you particularly like something, and so as he tugs at your hair again, you feel him smirk against your lips when you release another whine. he pulls back slowly and instead uses his hold on your hair to push you back to your previous position between his legs. this time he helps you pull down his pants, his other hand still tugging at your roots harshly in the way that he now knows you like.

“dirty girl, you like when i’m rough with you?”

★ lee know ( 리노 )

no matter how many times he denies the teasing words his members throw at him lightheartedly. minho thinks there’s truth behind their words. the fact that he’s so completely enamoured by you that he can’t help but act like a teenager whenever your around. well he’s acting like one right now.. a very horny teenager judging by the tent his pants that he ignores in favour of holding you up against the door of the fitting room. what? don’t judge he couldn’t control himself. the moment you had walked out to show him the pretty sundress adorning your body, all that control was thrown out the window and he couldn’t drag you back into the fitting room any faster. the threat of someone finding you like this - with straps of your dress pulled down your shoulders to provide minho with easy access to ravish your chest and your legs wrapped around your boyfriend’s waist - looms over your head but you lose focus when minho’s lips closes around your nipple, and tugs, pulling a surprised moan out of you. he lifts his head at the sound, mind hazy with the need to destroy you but he seems to realise your surroundings. a kiss to your collarbone rewards him with another moan that has him pressing his palm to your mouth to muffle any further sounds while his other hand sneaks between your legs.

“gotta be quiet for me baby.”

★ changbin ( 창빈 )

oh he absolutely ruins you with his hands under the back of ur thighs, holding your weight up against him so you can cling to him in your haste to get impossibly closer. he loves to be reminded of how much of an effect his strength has on you and so he slips his hands under your thighs from where your straddling him, muttering a quiet “jump” against your lips that has you going feral but you comply to his wishes with a breathy whine. you’re too far lost in his lips to acknowledge the slight smirk he supports but you do not miss the way his hands flex under you a little as he carries you towards his bedroom and you press into him harder. your own fingers trail down to brush over his veins that became more prominent with him flexing. he shudders at your touch and now it’s your turn to smirk into the kiss, pleased that you seem to hold some power over him too. before you know it, changbin’s slowly pulling away from you so that he can deposit you on the bed and you pout when his touch disappears from beneath your thighs. your boyfriend chuckles at your expression but doesn’t let you mourn his touch for long before his hands come down to palm at your chest through your shirt.

“oh pretty, you like my hands on you?”

★ hyunjin ( 현진 )

my hopeless romantic. he can’t help but let his palms completely envelope your face. his fingers brushing over the high points of your cheek while his mouth trails over your jaw to pull breathy sounds from you. he’s so absolutely endeared by you that he can’t seem to take his eyes off of you. seeing you get lost in the pleasure he gives you pushes him closer to the edge too. after hours when you’re both far too spent and the room smells of desire and sweat, hyunjin still props himself up using his elbows so his fingers can continue to ghost over your features.

“i’m always in awe of how beautiful you are, my love.”

★ han ( 한 )

han prides himself for being collected and controlled but all that control extinguishes the longer he stays in your present. in his most intimate moments with you where the only sounds that echo around the room are the ones that he pulls from you - your breathy whimpers as you writhe against his body mixed with his groans - he simply finds it hard to focus when your hands explore his bare skin with so much fervor that he bucks his hips into yours, releasing a whine of his own. As much as he loves the feeling of your hands on him, he doesn’t trust himself to not lose control if your hands continue down the dangerous path down his abs. so one of his hands gather both of yours to pin them above your head, stretching them in a way that forces you to give up all your control to him. his other hand travels down the length of your body to grab onto your thigh which he uses as leverage to hike your ankle over his shoulder.

“gonna make you feel so good baby.”

★ felix ( 용복 )

he wants to feel as close to you as possible. idc if it’s too basic but he loves holding your hands. lacing his fingers with yours as he presses kisses to your stomach and slowly descends down the length of your body. a surprised gasp sounds from you, followed by a moan when you feel him press open mouthed kisses near your core. “please lix” your hips lift on their own accord in your determination to relief the throbbing in between your legs. ever the dotting boyfriend, felix all but dives in. urgent fingers pushing your ruined underwear to the side so he can have unrestricted access. the way he moves his mouth against you nearly makes you see stars, and you’re thankful for the way he grips your hand, long fingers squeezing gently around a yours to ground you to reality. you nearly cry out loud when he lifts his head and the pleasure disappears, but the cry gets stuck in your throat when instead of his tongue he thrusts two of his fingers into you, keeping you full.

“you take my fingers so well baby.”

★ seungmin ( 승민 )

one of seungmin’s favourite feelings is your bare body beneath his, especially in this state where you can’t seem to get enough of him judging by the fact that your hands struggle to figure out where to settle on his body. Seungmin is in a similar predicament. He sees you lying below him all pliant and willing to take whatever he gives you and he curses himself in his head for only having two hands that make it impossible for him to hold your entire body at the same time. It’s a shame, he figures that his hands fail him to worship your body in the way you deserve. complaints aside, he decides to rest his palms on the soft curve of your waist, palms gliding up the length of your body in a way that tickles - his touch rewards him with a gentle laugh from you but it turns into a moan when your crotch lightly brushes over his. his hold gives him the opportunity to caress your body under his touch and also to use his grip on you to hold you down as he ruts up into you powerfully.

“gonna lay there all pretty and take it, right?”

★ i.n ( 아이엔 )

OH THIS FREAK. don’t let his sweet face fool you he is a munch through and through. but who can blame him really. not when your soft thighs are straddling his bare waist and your lips are interlocked with his in a sweet kiss. his rough hands however contradict the softness of his lips. you wince against in his mouth, as a result of the vice grip jeongin has on your hips but he can’t bring himself to care - not when he knows you enjoy it secretly - instead he urges you up with his grip. you stumble forward into his chest, not expecting that push but after regaining your balance you comply with his wishes, climbing up the rest of the way. jeongin’s thankful for the way you understand him to the point where he doesn’t even need to speak a word to convey what he wants. you just know. just like you know that he wants you to straddle his face. and fast judging by his frantic hands on your hips that pull you down further so that you’re fully seated. you both let out synchronised moans the moment his lips make contact with your hot core.

“just let me pleasure you.”

⠀© hyuniyz | fav && follow

masterlist . . . 🫧

[lovelucilfer]

"Would you look at that..." Soshiro snickers from above, his tongue darting from between his lips to wet them as he gazes down at you, his pupils blown wide, "You're a natural, aren't ya?"

You whimper at his praise, humiliating as it is, and he feels the muffled sound of it send a vibration up the length of his cock that's deep in your throat. His hand cups the side of your neck, thumb stroking along the column of sensitive skin as you sputter and drool with your lips wrapped around him. While the other gently cradles the back of your head as Soshiro stuffs himself further into your mouth — the very thing that had landed you here on your knees in the first place.

"Imagine what your fellow officers would think if they could see you right now, huh?" he rasps, his breathing slightly ragged, "Taking me like such a good girl after all that talkin' back..."

A low hum of approval follows the teasing emphasis of his words, causing your cheeks to blaze with embarrassment at how much you like it. There's mirth in Soshiro's eyes. But the way that he grins at you, so unabashedly, as he watches you flush only makes even more heat pervade throughout your body. Though this time it comes in the form of arousal pooling hotly between your thighs as he continues to thrust forward lazily. You try to squeeze them together discreetly, a feeble attempt to suppress the growing need with even a little bit of friction, but he's too perceptive. He catches the movement immediately.

"You love this, don't ya? Letting your vice-captain use your pretty mouth like this?" Soshiro provokes, smiling wickedly as he pants, his fingers curling into your hair with a soft tug to tilt your head to force your gaze on him, "Say it."

You nearly choke in response to his compliment, spit bubbling out and dripping down his shaft and your chin as his question leaves your aching pussy clenching around nothing. Soshiro chuckles breathily at the sight, amusement sparking in his eyes. Needing air, your inhale causes you to slurp lewdly before he's pulling his hips back with a hiss and a hand gripped firmly at the base of his length. He taps the sticky tip of his cock against your tongue, smearing the mess of your saliva and his precum along your bottom lip, his chest heaving with shallow breaths as he waits expectantly.

"S-Sir... Soshiro—" you gasp softly, quick to correct yourself as you blink up at him, hoping for some respite as you nod imperceptibly, "You know I do..." comes your flustered admission after a pause, shame mixing with the desire that simmers white-hot in your gut.

Soshiro grins, satisfied by your compliance and the way that your cheeks redden under his attention. He gives his cock a few languid pumps with his fist, his grip tightening slightly in your hair before guiding it back into your mouth. Your eyes well up as he works it in again, a needy whine escaping your throat as he pushes until the head nudges against the back of it, making him groan in pleasure as the wet heat envelopes him once more. But Soshiro only takes delight in it.

"Oh, don't cry, sweetheart," he taunts with a click of his tongue, smirking as he uses his thumb to brush a stray tear from rolling down your cheek, "This is nothin'. Much better than a couple hundred push-ups, don't ya think?"

[ringsofsaturnnnn]

˗ˏˋ 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐚 ´ˎ˗

𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝

↳ welcome home :: 🔞

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 | 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝

𝐡𝐜𝐬/𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬 | 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝

[bucker3911]

[l3viat8an]

I present for thought; mc with bite kink.

Nsfw I’ve talked about this so much it should be obvious it’s one of my favorite things jsjsjsj both biting and being bit-

Biting any of the boys is always fun because of their different reactions like-

Lucifer insisting you can only bite his chest or very low on his neck so he can still cover it. Also the little pleased sigh that leaves his lips when you sink your teeth into his skin~

Mammon doesn’t care where you bite him and honestly loves when he can show off your bite marks, as long as he can give you some back-

Levi let’s out little gasps when your teeth run over the back of his neck before actually nipping at the skin. He’ll bare his neck to you so you can leave more marks! Just please don’t stop yet-

Satan prefers biting you- but he’ll still let you leave a few bite marks around his neck. Just know you’ll end up covered in his bite marks too

Asmo loves seeing your skin covered in his bite marks and lipstick. You’re so cute like this~ not as big a fan of receiving marks, but still likes to feel your teeth nip at his skin- just be gentle with him and don’t bite too hard-

Beel is always a little worried about biting you- but he loves when you bite him, even better if you’re in his lap and leaving marks all over his chest- another thing is; bite ‘n nip at the insides of his thighs when you give him head- his reaction is adorable~

Belphie bites you randomly- like cuteness aggression hdjdh loves when you bite him back, or even bite him while he’s asleep. Soft moans falling from his lips and if he can he’ll even push your head closer, so the marks are deeper.

[theghooligan]

bloodraven being a tree and giving his great great grandfather sleep paralysis demons all season courtesy of harrenhall and alys:

[plutoswritingplanet]

Strip Me Down And Paint Me Black (Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Female!Reader) pt.1

a/n: ah shit, here we go again... A continuation of "It's A Special Death You Saved", but it can be read as a separate story. Title from "Cinnamon" by Marika Hackman

Warnings: Harkonnen-typical Violence, some Sexual Tension, some Kissing, Enemies to Lovers to Enemies to Lovers to Enemies to Lo...

Summary: As you struggle with your new role as the Na-Baron's wife, plans are set in place, which will shake the very foundations of your life. Good thing, your husband is there to support you, right?

He watches you. Constantly. 

You can feel his eyes moving over your body, soaking it in like a man parched. Every movement, every twitch of your muscles is noted, stored for later. It's like he's keeping a detailed record of your every reaction, as if he wants to keep it catalogued, create a mold of you in his mind. The furrowing of your brows and the squinting of your eyes, when the Black Sun of Giedi Prime first hits your vision. How your skin turns completely gray, devoid of any color, as you take your first step off the travelling ship. 

You shift uncomfortably under his gaze, refusing to meet it, as your eyes adjust to the sheer force of the swallowing black light. 

Touch is scarce and almost revered, when he lifts his hand to inspect a curl of your hair, the strand sliding between his fingers. He raises it towards the sun, admires it with silent appreciation, and somehow, instead of touching the softer parts of your being, this small gesture makes you want to scream. Because you know.

You understand, that this is what he wants to see. Black and white, and empty. No trace of the color before, only the bleakness and brutality of the Harkonnen. And you refuse, plain and simple. You refuse to be stuffed into this unforgiving planet, expected to bed yourself over to fit it. You value your Atreides lineage more than anything in life, and you'll sooner die, than discard it. 

No matter, how delicate he has been since your first night together, how much the heat of his alabaster skin has brought you comfort, you can feel in the pit of your stomach. That this is all some elaborate rouse to keep you docile. To keep you a perfect image of a wife, the future Na-Baroness. It can't be anything else, surely. 

So even now, as you admire the strangeness of this new planet, the blooming light that envelopes your skin, you force yourself to be on guard. Even as you look up at him, his sharp features and soft eyes, you bite down on any affection that might've reared its ugly head to the surface. This is not your home, and despite the ceremonies and the titles, this was not your husband. He was an impostor, a Devil sent from the Emperor himself to destroy your life. 

His lips flash in a mirthless smile, when his eyes lock with yours. The blackened teeth, the stained gums, you hated that mouth with all your being. You hated that it fit against yours, and that it didn't repulse you quite as much as you would've anticipated. And you hated his hands. The same ones capable of such ruthless brutality, and also more than capable of soothing your sore muscles, of toying with a lock of your hair, as if your entire being was made of the finest, most delicate glass.

A small, barely coherent voice whispers in your mind, reminding you of the rustling of the leaves when wind picked up, back home. You can't live like this, it supplies, you can't survive on hate alone. 

But you've always been stubborn, like a bull. And as his hand slides down to the dip of your waist, as he leads you from the spaceship to the shuttle, and then to the Palace, hate is all you can focus on. The swallowing pit of your stomach, much like the swallowing heat of the sun above you. It expands and pulsates within your veins, as your husband parades you like a prized trophy. Bald, white heads turn, salute the both of you, dissapear in a crowd of similar faces, similar blackened stares. 

It's like you're surrounded by an army of ghosts.

- Welcome home, wife - he whispers into your ear, and you don't know how you manage to stop tears from springing in your eyes. 

Not home. Never home. Your home had trees and oceans, and your Mother, your Father and your perfect Brother. Your home had Duncan, with his warm embrace and little scars littered all across his honey-colored skin. Your home had a sun that is warm and welcoming, that brings vibrancy to your life, and doesn't wash everything out, doesn't swallow all beauty. 

The clothes you wear, the clothes he wants you to wear, are nothing like what you're used to. They make your body feel foreign, like an accessory more than your own flesh. You hate the feeling of the sheer fabric clinging to your skin, like some suffocating membrane. The heavy jewelry, which reminds you more and more of a slave's collar. He put it on you with his own hands. Delicately fitting it around your neck, caressing it with the calloused pads of his fingers, a proud expression decorating his sharp featured like a war medal. 

You wonder what he sees, when he looks at you. Are your sentiments shared? Does he see you, as you see yourself, a doll dressed for his entertainment? A wife, should the politics require it? You're sure he does, there is no other way to describe the pitiful reflection in the mirror. Perhaps, in time, you might be able to fight back some semblance of dignity, to find a way of embracing these strange fabrics. Make this cold metal feel more like a necklace for a Baroness, rather than collar for cattle. Perhaps. 

Right now, however, as his Harpies dress you, you feel less like yourself and more like a toy, for your husband to enjoy. They can't really pin your hair properly, and you don't blame them, you really can't. When's the last time they were forced to care for someone in such a manner, if they ever were? Today, they're extra zealous, rubbing your skin raw with the chemically smelling oils. It makes your head swim, the scent of some unfamiliar paste. Your eyes water, and before you can blink the tears away, one of the Harpies soaks it up right from the corner of your eye with some flimsy tissue. 

She places the wet part against her tongue, and surprisingly, it doesn't bother you, as she tastes your tears, watching your reaction with completely black eyes. You meet her stare with a blank expression. At this moment, as she begins to slide another piece of sheer fabric over your body, you can't think of a way to be afraid of her, or her companion, which is fitting a pair of leather slippers over your feet. What lies ahead is so much more terrifying.

The Baron Vladimir Harkonnen has invited you for dinner. 

The news is delivered by a horrified servant, bald head bowed, seconds after you arrive in your marital room. Your husband doesn't even blink, immediately shedding his travel clothing, and disappearing somewhere out of your sight. The Harpies swarm into the room soon after, carrying various vials and bowls, and you already know the routine. 

The prospect of dining with your family's greatest enemy seems so outlandish, your body doesn't fully register the danger. Instead, you can feel yourself shut down, sink into yourself, between the constant expanding and contracting of your lungs, and the sound of your blood rushing through your skull. 

Only, when one of the Harpies turns you towards a polished piece of black obsidian, only when you can finally see yourself, do you react. A barely-there gasp escapes your mouth, because for the second time today, you're surprised with the brutal beauty of this place, and how easily you blend into it. The Harpy leans over your shoulders, stands on her toes to reach you, and before you can react, her teeth scrape over the shell of your ear. 

It doesn't hurt, and you turn your head towards her, faces inches from each other. Her head turns to the side, like some curious bird, and yet again, you can't fully decide whether you're looking at a human being, or some animalistic experiment. Your hand lifts itself on its own accord, fingers finding the Harpy's chin. Gently, but with enough force, you turn her face away from yourself. She doesn't recoil from your touch, doesn't react in any violent manner. If anything, her expression in the obsydian mirror looks almost bordering on proud. You try not to shiver at the thought. 

Then, your husband appears from the shadows, truly demon-like, and the women, or creatures, scurry out of the room, vials clanking against each other, as they gather them in their muscled arms. For just a second you're struck with the realization, that you miss their company, unsettling as it is.

- Don't be afraid of them - those are the first words coming from Feyd-Rautha you've heard since you've arrived. 

- I'm not - and truly, you mean it. 

He regards you with a long, dragging look, taking in the layers of fabric encapsulating the shape of your body. It's truly a hassle, to stop yourself from flinching, when the length of his body presses against your back. His chin finds purchase in the juncture between your shoulder and the column of your neck, and his head dips down to inhale the scent of your skin. You can't believe he's able to smell anything other than the strong chemicals his Harpies rubbed into you, but you don't argue. Instead, you sway in his hold, closing your eyes, and letting your imagination take you somewhere warmer, somewhere home. 

- I need you to be very careful tonight - he whispers into your skin, and you almost whine at being forced out of your daydream - My Uncle doesn't take kindly to insubordination, and although you are my wife, I won't be able to protect you from everything. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his skin, white and spotless, pressing into yours, marred with freckles and beauty spots. What a contrast you make against him. His mouth moves over your artery, nose dragging upwards, until he reaches the space behind your ear. He plants a kiss there, which immediately turns into a small bite, and your hands grip onto his forearms. 

- Careful, you sound almost concerned about my well-being - there's a limited amount of sarcasm one could convey with such a breathless tone, but you manage, eyes locked onto the silhouette of the both of you in the mirror. 

To that, he lifts his head, eyes locking with yours in the reflection. 

- I don't like when others break my toys - he answers with a shrug, and laughs quietly at your outraged expression. - I prefer to do it myself. 

Your muscles tense beneath his grip, and you turn to face him fully. Still, he doesn't let go, holding you close, smirking at you with that same self-satisfied expression. 

- Oh don't worry - your cheeks start to warm up at the teasing tone of his voice - I haven't even had the time to properly play with you.

- I ha-

- Hate me, I know. - he interrupts, one of his hands coming up to grab at your chin, tilting your head towards him - Tonight, try to hate me in the privacy of our bedroom. For your own sake.

His head dips down, lips slotting against yours easily, and although you fight hard against the pull, soon, your mouth moves against his in a kiss that is entirely too gentle for the nature of your relationship. He whispers something in that godawful Harkonnen language, tilting his chin to kiss the corner of your mouth, your jaw. Then, satisfied, he lets you go, and you encircle yourself with your own arms, refusing to admit, that you're cold without him. 

Making a mental note to ask for tutorship on the language, you allow him to lead you out of the safety of your shared bedroom, down the winding, black corridors, towards your first, and biggest challenge. 

- With courage and grandiose... - you whisper, as the door to the dining hall slides open, and ignore with all your might, the way your husband's hand twitches around your waist. 

The first member of the court you meet, is not the Baron. 

Instead, a man of slender stature comes out to greet the both of you, a polite smile plastered on his tattooed lips. His eyes flicker between you and your husband, and absentmindedly, they remind you of little black beetles. 

- Piter de Vries - he introduces himself, grabbing your hand with graceful movement - Mentat of the court. 

He places a kiss over your knuckles, and something scarily close to disgust rises in your gut. 

- The holotapes don't reflect your beauty, my lady - his voice is unsettlingly quiet, and it worms itself into your ears like an unwelcome guest. 

Still, your husband's thumb moves against your back, rubbing up and down your spine, and you swallow thickly before replying.

- I'm honored to meet you.

He can see through the lie like you're made of glass, but you can't find it in you to care. This is not the man you're supposed to convince, and even if this Mentat is a constant whisper in the Baron's ear, let him know there's character to you still. 

- I assure you, the honor is mine - his eyes glide over your features greedily, and you wonder if this hunger is a characteristic of all inhabitants of this planet - It's not everyday you meet Lady Jessica's Daughter. 

Blood freezes in your veins at the comment, and not even the ever-present touch of your husband can stop your expression from changing. Ice and steel overtake, as you fix the Mentat in front of you with a hard stare. There is something in his gaze, something slimy and dangerous, that makes a pit form in your stomach. Still, tied to court's intricate pleasantries, you twist your face into a forced smile. 

- You know my Mother? - the question slips out from between your teeth.

The man nods, a perverted version of a curtsy that makes you want to turn on your heel, and haul yourself back into your room. Damn your husband and all the uncomfortable ways he makes you squirm, you'll take it all if it meant never talking to this Mentat ever again. 

- In a way - the answer does nothing to calm your nerves - Her talents are known throughout the whole galaxy. 

- Yes, I'm sure they are - the barely noticable note of sarcasm some how registers in your husband's brain, and with a guiding hand, he pushes you forward, towards the dining hall.

Before you can get away from the Mentat, his unnaturally cold hand wraps itself around your wrist, keeping you in place with light pressure. 

- I'm desperately interested in what you may offer the court - he says, voice low and bordering on ominous, and the pit in your stomach trurns into a boulder.

Lips curling in disgust, you wrench your hand away, but as you wind your palm back to deliver a slap across the smirking man's face, something white enters your vision. From behind your back, Feyd Rautha delivers a resounding hit to the Mentat's cheek, with enough force to send him stumbling to the floor. Your mouth hangs agape, as that same hand curls around your waist, and pushes forward, until you're forced to take a step, and then another. 

Whipping your head around to look at him, all you can see, is that same passively bored expression he has worn, since your arrival to the planet. Not even a muscle twitches, not until the door closes behind you in the dining hall. Eyes trained forward, the hand guiding you slides up your spine right to the base of your head, where he grabs a loose fistful of your hair, and pries you away from him, setting your face forward. 

Like a doll, your mind supplies, but all further thoughts get swallowed by a thundering wave of anxiety, as your eyes fall onto the only other man present in the dining hall. 

You can't fully comprehend where the floor ends and the walls begin, the whole room looking more like an endless void of black, polished stone. The table is obscenely long, but narrow, and filled with various foods, none of which you recognize. Your breath catches, as you notice a macabre center piece right in the middle of the table. A beautiful female deer stands surrounded by black flowers, it's limbs kept immobile by some invisible force. It's eyes move though, skittering around the place, revealing that this poor creature used as some messed up decoration, is in fact alive. 

- Welcome, my dear nephew - a low, slightly slurred voice rings out throughout the empty space, and finally, you can feel real dread. 

- Uncle. - Feyd Rautha inclines his head, before all but pushing you forward into the belly of the beast.

And what a terrifying belly it is. 

The Baron Vladimir Harkonnen towers over the end of the table, his frame as difficult to comprehend as the rest of the dining hall. He smiles at your husband, a show of black teeth against greying skin, and then his eyes move towards you. He doesn't hide the cruel, twisted expression, that flashes across his face, contorted in the low, floating lights. Then, as if a mask slipped onto him while you were blinking, he looks decievingly kind, like an image of a caretaker, distorted in a nightmare. 

- Lady Atreides - his voice bellows, and despite every muscle in your body screaming at you to run, you take a step forward, before taking a shallow bow - A spitting image of your Father. I'm delighted to have you here, on my planet. 

Swallowing hard, you risk a glance at your husband. He has abandoned you in favor of taking a seat in the only one of two available chairs. Blue eyes flash towards you, a hidden warning, and dare you say, a hint of concern. The deer on the table is breathing rapidly, you've just noticed. 

- My Baron - your voice doesn't shake, a small blessing - I'm honored to meet you. 

The rehearsed line seems hallow in the booming echo of the dining room, and you pray that it's enough. 

The Baron gives you no answer, as he wordlessly gestures towards the table, and after a second your body jerks in the direction of the chair. With stiff movements, you sit down, your dress digging uncomfortably under your ribs. The deer looks at you, it's eyes wide, nose contracting rapidly as it inhales. You want to grab it into your hands, tear it away from the force keeping it trapped, and set it free, so it can run into the fields of Caladan. Your husband takes a long sip from his chalice, and you mirror his movements. 

The liquid is sickly sweet, with a strong, chemical taste that coats your entire mouth. Fighting with the urge to spit it out, your neck strains as you swallow, feeling it travel down your throat, and into the pit of your stomach. 

Are you supposed to be the deer in this place? 

Feyd Rautha reaches for a vase of something vaguely resembling meat, and doesn't bother with his plate, taking the leg into his hand, and biting into it with reckless abandon. Some dark liquid spills over his mouth, down to his chin, and you have to look away, as he captures your gaze in an entirely too heated stare. This is not the time, you want to scream at him, but take another sip from the chalice instead. 

- A monumental moment in history is happening right in front of my eyes - the Baron starts, and your hand freezes half-way towards your lips. - The union of House Harkonnen and House Atreides. The Emperor truly is a wise man. 

- Of course - you agree, tying sarcasm to the back of your throat like an angry dog - I'm ever so grateful.

- I'm sure you are. 

The Emperror wants you dead, there is no other explanation. You can't move, can't look anywhere but the eyes of the deer, seeing yourself in the reflection of it's glossy iris. Save yourself, it seems to scream at you, and your throat constricts around your airwave. Save yourself, because I couldn't.

- Your cousin will be joining us shortly - the Baron directs his gaze towards Feyd-Rautha, and your husband immediately straightens his back against the chair. 

- Rabban? Shouldn't he be on Arrakis? - you don't remember when you've become so in-tune with your husband, but you sense his interest peaking immediately.

Something's wrong, something's terribly wrong, you can feel it. This slow dread climbs up your back like a snake, before sinking it's teeth into your nape. Eyes searching your husband's your fingers tighten around the chalice, around cold, black metal. You try to remember what your Mother would've done in a situation such as this. How she would comfort herself. Fear is the mind-killer, is the only thing that arrives, and the thought is as comforting, as a cold shower.

- By the Emperor's decree, our House has been ordained to leave Arrakis in favor of it's new stewardship.

You know what words are going to fall next, before they fall, and you close your eyes to brace for impact. 

- The stewardship of your Father. Of House Atreides. 

Someone save you, please. Your eyelids flutter open, gaze falling over your husband, as he watches you with a myriad of emotions running through his expression. You pray it doesn't settle on anger, and your prayers are heard. There is a cruel, twisting smirk in the corner of his mouth, and he turns his head to look at his Uncle, with a silent question. The Baron inclines his head ever so slightly, you can see movement in the corner of your eye, but the deer is still breathing, and for some reason you have to keep an eye on it, you have to know it's still alive. 

You are not stupid. You've been trained to not be stupid, in life and in politics. It doesn't take too keen of a mind to understand the gravity of the situation. The steady flow of immense wealth the Harkonnens were known for, is suddenly cut short. Given to a rival House. This was not some beautiful gift of appreciation, this was a stoker shoved right into the burning flames. 

- I'm honored - you repeat, like a bell in a church tower, and somewhere to your left, the Baron laughs. 

- There will be celebrations, later this week - he continues, as if he hasn't just delivered life shattering news - We will honor your marriage in the traditions of our ancestors. 

- Which is? - you don't really care anymore if the shift in your tone is registered as offensive. 

Feyd Rautha actually, without a doubt kicks you under the table. You shoot him a look bordering on pure shock and outrage, and all you get in response is an arched eyebrow. 

Something rattles below you, a tell-tale sound of machinery whirling to life. It gives you only one second to register, but as soon as it does, your heart jumps up into your throat. Paper thin panes of glass shoot out from under the table. The deer gives a pathetic squeak, as it's body is cut into equal pieces. No blood is shed, the whole operation barely moves the air in the dining room, and you watch the life drain from the deer's eyes, as the panes begin to move. 

They separate each piece, creating a cross-section of it's insides. The chemical wine threatens to rush back out of you, and your dig your nails into your palms. Your husbands shoe settles in constant, grounding pressure against your ankle, and although you would never admit it, it's the only thing keeping you from shattering. Whether it's a threat or a promise, you can't be sure, but there is frost in your veins, and fire in your eyes, as you slowly turn your head towards the Baron. 

He's wrong. All of them are wrong. You're not some deer, some lost shivering thing, made for a display of cruelty. You will not be brough down to some decoration, and so, you raise your chin higher, and hold the Baron's gaze. His eyes, gleaming with violent delight, jump around your face, this strange battle coming to a sudden end, as the corner of his mouth quirks up.

He moves his hand in the air dismisively, and your husband stands up, a laziness to his movements. You stand up too, your chair shuffling against the polished floor, stiff limbs fighting for an illusion of graceful movements. Wishing you could drive your point further, you bow again, this time, your eyes remain glued to the black beads of irises, shining in the amassing of flesh that is the Baron's face. 

And then you're off, heels clicking on the floor, as you bypass your husband and all but storm out of the dining hall. He follows you, you can feel his pressence on your back, but there's too many emotions running through your head to find it unsettling. The silence of it all, the calmness. Perhaps you would've preferred if he had been angry with you, if you could pinpoint his reaction, bottle it up to hate it later. 

Right now, you can't do much, other than run to your shared rooms, pretend like they are a solice, a safe space for you to exist, when in reality, they're anything but. The unsettling realization, that you navigate these corridors like a natural born Harkonnen will hit you later today, but as such, you are blinded by your own anger.

 - Did you know? - the question sounds more like a demand, as soon as the door closes behind you.

Back turned, you stand in the middle of the bedroom, finally granting yourself the luxury of outrage. Shoulders rise and fall in tandem with your labored breaths, and your nails have bitten crescent moons into your palms. 

- Yes. - you've anticipated his answer, and still, it shocks you to the very core of your being.

Hair whips around your face, as you turn to face him., strands all but slipping from the inexperienced updo. He holds  your gaze with steady eyes, crosses his arms on his chest, but has the decency of looking on edge. 

- How long?

- The news came right after the engagement began.

That, admittedly, knocks the wind out of your lungs, and you take a step back, until your behind collides with the obsidian desk. Hiding your face in your hands, you rub your palms against your temples, tug at the roots of your hair in the process. 

- So, what now? - you ask, sounding so drained, so tired, you almost don't recognize your voice.

His shoes invade your vision, as he steps closer. Your husband, your Bull. You don't want to look up at his face, scared of what you'll find there. He doesn't share the same sentiment, apparently, as he lifts your chin with his fingers, until you meet him with a withering expression. 

Feyd Rautha leans down, capturing your lips with his. Not really in the mood for kissing, as your head races with a myriad of terrible thought, you push against him. Should've known better, he loves a fight. Tongue slipping through the barrier of your teeth, you can taste the strangely chemical wine on his breath. His hands grab what they can of your body, until they settle on the sides of your face, where he tugs you up onto your tippy toes, taking a drink of you, like he did from the chalice. 

Breathless and confusingly aroused, your fingers twist into the material of his dress shirt, but before you can truly let go, he pulls away. Hands still on your face, you are suddenly pulled forwards, as he drags you in front of the mirror. Thrown off guard by this change of pace, you try to writhe yourself away, only to be gripped even tighter, so hard, you can feel something shift under the skin of your jaw. 

There are dark stains all around your lips, stains that taste just like the wine. Feyd Rautha stands behind you, much like he did before the dinner, but all comfort from that moment is trampled under his foot, as he slides his arms around you. 

- Now, I must make you into a Harkonnen - he rasps into the base of your neck.

Then, reaching towards your lips, he wedges his fingers inside, pulls until you can see your teeth in the reflection. Black, thick liquid covers them completely, staining your mouth in the process. The wine, you realize, but before you can rationalise any more, tears spring in the corners of your mouth. Disgust bubbles in your stomach like an awoken volcano. Disgust and anger, so much anger. 

Your husband humms softly behind you, cranes your head back. 

Your body feels foreign again, as he kisses your tears off of your skin.

[j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus]

OMFG AGHHHH

GRAVES X READER MY BELOVEDDDDDDD

Graves is either the most dominant, rough man EVER in bed, or he's a fucking sub boy.

He either has you riding him on his lap, pulling your hair, kissing you so hard that you would be worried that you'd bruise except you're so brainless from his destruction of your cunt that you can't do anything but warble out thank yous and pleases and "harder sir~!"s, or he's laid down on the bed and you're on top of him and he can't think of anything because it feels so good and he's just staring at your tits like a twelve year old boy seeing porn for the first time.

Like the SECOND you're on top of him he's either guiding your hips and pulling your hair, or he's calling you mommy/daddy and there is NO in-between.

Like ESPECIALLY if he's had a bad day, you're sitting on his lap and you're spitting in his mouth and gently praising him for taking it like a good boy and that's the ONLY thing making his evening good.

Literally if you're one of his Shadows he'll spar with you and it'll end up with the side of your face firmly on the ground, he has your hands behind your back, and he's telling you "C'mon, darlin'... You know you lost now," with SUCH a thick accent.

Ahdusnd foaming at the mouth I love my southern men

[kentopedia]

ᡣ𐭩 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈 . . . the french are glad to die for love

after a night performing, you meet with the duke, but he's not anything like you'd been expecting.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬. ft. sanji ! f!reader, moulin rouge au, alcohol, smoking, romance, prostitution, burlesque/cabaret dancers, humor, very very brief mention of suicidal ideation, suggestive content. 8.7k words.

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, i'm very nervous to post this so pls be kind to me ‪‪❤︎‬ if you aren't familiar with moulin rouge, the writing's a bit silly / eccentric at times, which is a little outside my comfort zone. so if you hate it... say nothing lol ><

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 .˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈 .˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊

Paris was the city of lovers, as they said. Romantic and doused in shades of red, painted with hearts for stars and a dazzling galaxy complete of past romances. 

Red, yes, was the color of Paris. But it came from not from dalliances, but from blood and tears, the scarlet hues mixed in shades of pain and misfortune. Nothing you had expected when you’d first stepped foot in the city with a half-developed mind, just off the boat from your own country. You’d had a suitcase filled with your finest clothes, which truly weren’t much, and a few necessities. But you’d been leaving from nothing, and you’d go on to have nothing, finding yourself in yet another desperate situation. 

In the wake of revolutions, Paris was supposed to be a place of rebirth, to start fresh and finally live out your dream as an actress. But things never turned out the way they were planned — such had been the case since the beginning of time. 

Instead of finding your way into the Palais Garnier, on the stage in beautiful velvet gowns, laced with glittering diamonds and rubies, you found yourself on the streets, singing for anyone who would listen. Then, you were acquired by a man who promised you a life of luxury and an opportunity to be a star. 

And who were you to refuse such an offer? 

Thus concluding the simple, albeit melancholy tale of how you found yourself at the Moulin Rouge, part-time singer, part-time dancer, and full-time actor. A cliché story of ambition and lost dreams, of aspirations that had never come to fruition.

Still, you had your moments of stepping into the role of the glittering ruby, the dazzling diamond. There were even times when you felt that, maybe, you were shaping up to be the prima donna you’d dreamed of becoming. That you had already taken that role on and made it your own, not in a golden opera house, but on a stage of darker colors, crafted for those that crept in the shadows, rather than the heavens. 

But what being an actor at the Moulin Rouge meant was forgetting what it was to be yourself. Each evening, you put on a mask of beauty that you didn’t feel to your core, shrouded in cheap jewels that had become meaningless in the face of giving up your real dream. No matter how many times you told yourself this was right, a stepping stone to the path of greatness, it still felt like a lie.

But the years carried on, and the pain subsided. You got used to the sharpened eyes of hungry men, of people that would never want you for any longer than an evening. They were charming, sure, and they paid a pretty penny for a night — if you were willing to give it to them. 

It was enough. It had to be. 

Things weren’t so bad, you supposed. You’d left your home like you’d always planned to, even while this shapeless existence was hardly any better.

Still, returning to your house of cards, of rags and dirtied floors, seemed like an even bigger failure. Perhaps not to your family, who would’ve deemed your life as a courtesan the greatest shame of them all. To you, though, the greatest shame would have been to admit that you were wrong. 

Your fifth year of working at the Moulin Rouge set into motion the beginning of the end. There was nothing different about the evening that tipped the first domino… Not that you could recall, at least. 

As always, an array of stars glittered over Montmartre, a beautiful Parisian night, lit up with red. From the streets, the Moulin Rouge glowed like a beacon, combating even the loveliest parts of the French skyline, outlandishly bright, but mystical all the same. It wasn’t often that you saw the outside of the cabaret, not the way your patrons did. Sometimes, you wondered what it was like for them, to walk in for the first time and see the beautiful stars, dancing just for them on the candlelit stage. 

The very stage you were soon to find yourself on.

A necklace of rubies — undoubtably fake — hung heavy on your chest, weighing you down just like a cough in your lungs did. From beyond your four walls, you could hear the crowd that had formed in the intimate hall, already wet with anticipation of the dancers. And while some, perhaps, were doubtful, here for the first time, you knew they would leave with an itch to return, if only to see the star of the Moulin Rouge.

You.

Staring into the mirror, you listened to the heels of your friends click across the stage, getting into position for their first number. It was comforting, almost, how the simple sound was there for your every night, alerting you of just how much time you had before your final act. 

You smeared rouge across your cheeks, sporting a grim smile, and made sure the color was bright enough to combat the lights that would illuminate you. 

Then, you inhaled, and stood from your chair, to get dressed before your number began. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t get far, already crowded by the chest of your keeper, the flashy owner of the Moulin Rouge. Buggy. 

He was dressed as he always was — to the nines, and impeccably lively. Much livelier than you would ever be outside of the glittering nightclub. Sometimes, you wondered just how much of his persona was an act, and how much of it was every bit the extravagance he’d been born with.

“There’s my star,” Buggy said, dragging a finger across your cheek, eyes lit up by his pale makeup. “I’ve been looking for you.” Your name left his lips cheerfully, and you smiled, thinly plastering on enthusiasm. 

“Well,” you answered, batting your eyelashes heavily. “Here I am. Where I’ve been for the past five years, every night, at this very time.”

He threw an arm over your shoulder as he always did, like the two of you were old friends, and the air of professionalism you tried to keep between you was needless. “Yes, yes,” he responded, waving off the slight bit of sarcasm. “Listen. I have a manner of business to discuss.” 

Your smile quickly fell. You knew what that meant. “Buggy,” you said, unreeling yourself from his embrace, his hot palm dropping from your shoulders. “It’s hardly been a day since the last one. You promised me I wouldn’t have to take on any more.” 

Not that you’d believed him when he’d said that, but… There were only so many men you were willing to seduce, especially when the other dancers would have gladly accepted the work. You weren’t the only courtesan at the club, and just because you were the star, didn't mean you would put the others out of a job. 

“I did, I did, and I’ll keep that promise… After this last time.” Buggy’s words were on the edge of charisma, but they weren’t able to reach that delivery. Full of a dramatic flair, sure, but nothing further. His smile was thin, desperate, and though you wanted to ask his true intentions about this particular meeting, you wouldn’t. You already knew the answer.

You held his gaze sharply, eyes narrowing before you relented, a heavy sigh leaving your lungs. 

There had been talk about the finances, only recently, and just through the grapevine. Claims that the Moulin Rouge was going bankrupt, and there was only one person with enough beauty and charm to save it.

A heavy burden to bear, indeed.

And while you were hopeful, devastatingly so, that the claims weren’t true, you weren’t blind to the dwindling waitstaff, the decreasingly lavish decorations. One of your dancers had even left in the last week, a young girl who didn’t bring much to the table, but didn’t deserve to be tossed back onto the streets either. 

You’d be a fool not to notice that there was trouble… Trouble Buggy had convinced you not to worry about, but that concerned you all the same. 

With a frown, you bowed your gaze, then perked back up with a smile. As if holding a tiara high on your head, you straightened, erasing the depressing dimness from your eyes, hoping you shone as brightly as he wanted you to. “Alright,” you hummed, softening your voice, “What do I need to do?” 

Buggy grinned, face revealing perfect showmanship, and pinched your cheek. “There’s my star.” 

The man you were to seduce on the stage tonight was a duke. 

He wasn’t from Paris, wasn’t from France at all, but instead, from some intriguing land further East, hailing a vast amount of wealth and a large wallet that could easily bankroll the entire nightclub. Salaries, performances, food and so on. That alone told you all you needed to know. 

Just one night. That would be enough to convince him that you were a dazzling diamond, and you deserved a place on the stage. A different stage. It would be enough to get him to put his money on the table, entranced enough by the energy of the evening to invest in the Moulin Rouge. Enough to intrigue him, even if he was a difficult man to please. 

One night might not turn out be just one, you knew that. But you’d do anything, anything it took to achieve you dreams. Not just for yourself, not for Buggy… but for all of the others that you called your friends. You deserved an opportunity to be a real actress, and they deserved a place to live, a place to work. 

Besides, you were getting older, already closer to thirty than your early teenage years, and those of the underworld did not want an aged woman, so much as they sought the delicate features of a barely turned adult. It was a disgusting, filthy world you lived in, but it kept you alive, and sometimes, that was all you could ask for. 

“Remember,” Buggy’s words echoed in your ears, sharp and desperate to be heard, even over the drowning noises of the orchestra. “He’ll be in the back booth. There’s a group of men with him, they’ll all have drinks. Just catch his eye, sometime during the dance. But don’t worry too much about that, otherwise you’ll lose your focus.” 

What you got from that was: You should try extra hard to catch the eye of an impressive man, but you should not seem like you were trying at all. 

A somewhat daunting task, but it would be simple enough. There hadn't been a man yet at the Moulin Rouge who hadn’t stumbled over himself when you gave him your brilliant smile.

You breathed, a deep inhale that cleared out the anxiety lingering in your chest. Then, you blew it out, and the curtain rose, blinding you with overwhelming yellows and reds from the lights, ones that ignited the jewels on your neck, outlining your chest, drawing everyone’s attention to you.

It was hard to see anything at all, but you could feel all their eyes on you — a hundred or so pairs that scoured you like a piece of meat.

And when you got to the floor, close enough that you could feel the hot breaths of your favorite clients, they threw bills at you until you could no longer hold them in the tight lines of your bodice. 

You smiled at every individual like you’d never smile at anyone again, patted their cheeks until they passed out with red, swooning faces. Then you left them, still reeling from your touch, eyes glued to you with the focus of a tortured scholar.

Performing had always been a rush to you, left you lively and with an energy that you’d never found in anything else. But sometimes, performing like this, exploiting no one but yourself and your magnetic charm, left you empty at the end of the day. You left the stage cold, drained of every ounce of warmth that had been dragged into you from the spotlight. 

It was invigorating to be wanted, but it could never compete with the crushing loneliness that came with being used.

And that warmth you got from the stage, the rush of devotion and adrenaline that came with incessant adoration? Well, you’d never felt anything like that, never been able to replicate it either, until a set of eyes landed on you from a distant booth, where the Duke was said to be sitting. 

You felt the heat before you saw him, the candy-red color of desire bleeding into you. It dragged across your back, digging into your shoulder-blades like a needle, piercing, but only lightly. There was something soft around the harsh edges of want, and when you turned to meet that stark desire, you almost faltered in surprise. 

He wasn’t what you’d been expecting.

Just as Buggy had said, the corner-most booth held a man, surrounded by many others. The table was littered with glasses — both empty and full of alcohol, and a cloud of smoke hovered around them. All of the men leaned over the table, eyeing you with awe-struck eyes, as you sparingly gave them your sweetest smile. 

But it was the innermost man that you honed in on, one being jostled around by the wealthy others in his booth. Blonde, blue eyes alight with a conflicted sort of desire, wearing a suit tailored to fit him perfectly. 

The Duke. 

Allegedly. 

From what you’d been told, there were enough clues to convince you that this dazzled man was the one you were looking for. Surrounding him were older patrons, ones that were familiar with Buggy, and nearly all of the dancers. Rich men that would have gladly accompanied a foreign noble, shown him the beauty of Montmartre before the sun rose and they were back to respectable conversation. 

Yet, he seemed… 

Well, he didn’t seem very lordly. 

That, though, was not a question you wanted to linger on for too long. Your mind would spin into uncertainties, and you would fuck this up before you could fuck him. 

Instead, you sharpened your smile, lowered your eyes seductively, and continued your performance, painting more attention onto that side of the room. 

Which raised another red flag that you were all too happy to ignore. Far opposite of what Buggy had sad, the duke did not seem like a difficult man to please. Rather, all you could think was that he would be an easy catch, with the way his cigarette dangled from his lips, parted in awe. His irises might as well have shaped into hearts as he watched you, tracing your every movement without so much as blinking. 

You brightened. For some reason, his adoration gave you much greater satisfaction than you would have liked to admit. 

Riding on the elation that your prey, the source of your future, was in the palm of your hand, you wrapped up the rest of your performance perfectly, tying it up with a beautiful scarlet ribbon. Buggy was standing on the edge of the stage as you made your way down, bowing dramatically, knowing that you had succeeded in every goal he’d set for you. 

“Do you think I lured him in?” you asked softly, accepting the robe given to you by one of the stage-hands, a man just on the cusp of his twenties. 

Buggy smiled, his red-painted lips spreading across crooked teeth. “I don’t call you the diamond for nothing, do I, my dear?” he said, pinching your cheek. 

The rouge came off between his fingers, and your eyebrows crinkled, before releasing, as you remembered all the ways you could keep yourself from looking older. You swatted your friend-not-friend’s hand away before wrapping yourself tighter in the robe, feeling so much smaller and younger than you truly were. 

Despite all the men you’d taken to bed, all the nights you’d shared in throes of passion (their’s, of course, never your own), you still felt the scared, hardly-adult you’d been when you first set foot in Paris. 

Buggy noticed the change in your demeanor, as you tried to gear yourself up for an encounter with the Duke. The charming, blonde noble seemed kind enough, softer around the edges than many of the men you’d seduced over the years. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. 

Never, though, would it be something that you wanted to do.

“What’s the matter, my gem?” Buggy asked, not quite in a way that was kind, but enough to show concern. His eyes were gentler than the rest of his appearance, and you weren’t sure you were grateful for it.

You curled away from his hands, sniffing back the onslaught of doubt and self-loathing that always came upon you when you used your body in such a way. It was something that you’d been taught to feel disgusted by, even though it kept a roof over your head, and the heads of the people that you’d come to call your family. 

“It’s nothing,” you said, because it was the truth. It was nothing new. The same blur of feelings that had haunted you since the first day you’d sold yourself to another still lingered. You’d always thought it would get easier… but it hadn’t. It still ended with you wanting to tear your skin from your body, but never following through with a slide of poison down your throat. 

Because that was the easy way, wasn’t it? A quick way to end your torment, without knowing if you’d ever see the other side. And, perhaps you weren’t as brave as you wanted to believe, but you wanted to see if there was another side. If there was a brighter end, a brighter future, where you could shine on the stage of the Palais Garnier as a real actress, and not just in the glittering scarlet lights of the Moulin Rouge. 

Buggy eyed you skeptically, any kindness in his irises now gone as his lips turned into a thin line. “It better be nothing,” he said, guiding you across the stage, before reaching a doorway that would send you up into the Elephant Room.

Which was the most private area of the Moulin Rouge, one saved for the most illicit affairs. It was your room, and only those patrons that were willing to pay the highest price were allowed entry. 

“Remember, I’ll send him up to you, and all you have to do is give him a night he won’t forget, alright?” Buggy stood in front of you, gripping your shoulders in a warning. “Now, show me that dazzling smile, diamond.”

Reluctantly, but with all the passion you had gathered in your chest, you smiled, knowing that it was real enough to set something alight in his own. The reaction — just a small quirk of his lips in return — was enough to let you know he was satisfied with the show you’d put on.

“There she is. We’ll have a new investor soon enough.” 

You were certain of that. You had to be certain of that, or your livelihood would be down the drain, and a future of shimmering lights and diamond-encrusted gowns would be out of the question. 

On the walk up the stairs, you spoke soft words in your head, hummed the same tune you did for every show. It reminded you of who you were — at least, who you were to them. The ones who would have sold an arm and leg for a chance to win your heart, even though, after all the years that passed, you didn’t think you had one to give anymore. 

The stage was all the love you had to offer. Perhaps, the only type of love you believed in, anymore. 

You made your way up the spiraling staircase to the Elephant Room, and opened the door with a sigh, letting your weight rest against the doorknob. For a moment, you deflated in the threshold like a woman in a Shakespearian tragedy, exhaling the tension that had wrought in your shoulders. 

Until you felt eyes slide across to you, unexpectedly, and you found you weren’t alone in the Elephant Room. 

Without pretense, the Duke was waiting for you, his eyes dancing along the interior, taking a moment to gaze at every corner of the room. There was interest in his irises, as he searched for other secrets of your life through your belongings

Then, the door slammed shut behind you, and the spell was broken. The Duke turned to face you, eyes widening with alarm, as your back went straight as a wire.

He wasn’t supposed to be there already.

A second slipped by, and you gawked at each other, your own mouth dry with the confusion and surprise of his ill-timed appearance. Surely Buggy hadn’t sent him to the Elephant Room already? You’d only just parted.

Well, you supposed it didn’t matter now anyway.  La vie continue.

Smoothly, you recovered, raising your shoulders to release an air of confidence, and smiled brightly. You twisted your hair across your collarbone, hoping it would highlight the smooth planes of your chest, where the ruby necklace had already been removed. “Ah, my apologies, monsieur. I wasn’t aware you were waiting for me.”

The Duke blinked as you strutted past him, taking the two quick steps to your vanity. Just enough to brush against him, feel the desire rolling off of him in waves. 

Pointedly, he tried hard not to let his eyes drift lower, tracing just along your hips before snapping back up to to the back of your head. “How would you have known?” His words came out thick, as if something was lodged deep in his chest. “I haven’t even introduced myself.”

“Oh, there’s no need,” you said over your shoulder, lowering your voice huskily. “I’ve heard so much about you. I trust your visit to the Moulin Rouge has been pleasant?” 

He met your gaze through the mirror, seemingly enraptured, and cleared his throat as he calculated a response. “Très agréable, mademoiselle.” 

You smiled, humming through an affirmative, before continuing. “Wonderful. I’ll be ready in just one moment.” Imperceptibly, you sprayed perfume, hoping it would mask the sweat that had gathered from your performance. Then, you made your way over to a cart, sifting through expensive bottles of alcohol. “Drink?” you said, speaking softly to yourself. “I have champagne or…” You shook each of the bottles, realizing they were all empty. Not a drop left. “Well. I have champagne.” 

“I’m alright, madame. Merci.”

You began to pour your own glass, which you would certainly be needing, when it dawned upon you that his accent was rather Parisian, and absolutely not as foreign as Buggy would have had you believe. Your champagne slipped, nearly spilling over the edges of the cup, before you turned to eye the blonde with what you hoped with a sultry grin. 

“Ah. Your French is very beautiful,” you said, smiling over the edge of your glass as you sipped at it, wondering if your eyes were as alluring as you believed. “You’re a quick learner.”

He stared at you, lines creasing his features as his lips parted, obvious skepticism weaved within his posture. Then, without another word, he ignited the cigarette he had slipped between his lips, the end glowing before he inhaled. A long drag was taken from it, settling in his lungs. “Je suis désolé, mademoiselle. I’m not sure how to answer that,” he said, exhale releasing a cloud of smoke into the air. 

You laughed, a high-pitched giggle that turned you back to face him, his free hand stuffed in his pocket like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. “Usually people answer compliments with another thank you, but it’s no matter.” You forced another small sound up out of you, suddenly unsure exactly what to do next. 

He was… not what you’d been expecting, and the usual turn of events wasn’t progressing as it should have been. The Duke was supposed to be an intimidating man, one who knew what he wanted and would take it without question. That's what you'd heard, anyway. You were starting to wonder if what Buggy had told you were nothing but rumors. 

Waving the comment off, you made your way back to the vanity, checking that your scarlet lipstick had not smeared. His lingering gaze still traced against every curve of your body, and you stuck your hips out further, leaning towards the mirror with a small grin. “I apologize I didn’t have time to change. I wasn’t expecting you here so soon.”

The Duke nodded, only slowly processing your words before tapping on the cigarette. “Oh, there’s… no need.” Then, he shook his head, blinking, as if cringing internally. “Unless you’re uncomfortable. In that case, I’ll um… turn around.” 

You laughed, hiccuping as the quick gulps of champagne came bubbling up inside of you. “Well, it’s no matter, really. I’m sure they’ll come off soon enough.” The comment was meant to be a simple segue into the rather normal routine of your work, low and seductive. 

Instead, his eyes went wide, cheeks flushed as he looked, quite pointedly, anywhere but you. “No,” his voice rang at a higher pitch as you stalked towards him, your glass of champagne drained and discarded. “No, I’d really rather you keep them on, actually.”

You blinked, a bit puzzled by that. But it wasn’t the strangest request you’d ever gotten, and you were determined to please him, just as Buggy had requested. “Alright. Whatever you want, amour.” 

Like a cat, you crept up to the Duke, splaying your hands across his chest. A small sound left his throat, cheeks turning a darker shade as he took a step back, grasping for words. Your hand fisted his tie, satisfied by his reaction as you followed his stumbling lead back towards the bed. 

“How would you prefer to start?” you whispered, as his knees hit the edge of the heart-shaped mattress, legs buckling until he was flat on his back, gawking up at you from the bed. “I admit you are a hard one to read. Just say the word, I can be whatever you want.”

You scrambled on top of his thighs, dress hiked up to reveal the smoothness of your own legs, which quickly caught his attention.

“I-I’m not sure that we’re on the same page here,” he said, swallowing, though watching every one of your movements with rapt attention. 

You plucked the cigarette from his lips, and took a long drag, smiling down at him. 

The smoke filled your lungs, calming your nerves marginally. They were cheap cigarettes — not those usually desired by the nobility, but who were you to judge for odd preferences? He’d found his way here to you, after all. 

“No?” you answered softly, taking one more long inhale of the cigarette before you leaned forward, placing it into the ashtray, still burning. There was a long streak of red from your lipstick, staining the thin cylinder of white. “Then what is it that you’re here for?”  

He exhaled, fingers reaching up along your thighs, the touch so featherlight that you almost weren’t sure it was even there. For a moment, he seemed to have forgotten the question entirely, jaw slackened as he stared at you above him, before he swallowed, and sat up on his forearms. 

The movement brought your faces even closer together, his nose just centimeters from brushing your own. It was then you realized just how blue his eyes were, the color illuminated by the dim candlelight, deep hues of turquoise and navy swirling together to create a stormy sea. His thick, blonde eyelashes fluttered closed as he blinked at you, and the movement alone brought you out of your stupor, his voice raspy upon each syllable.  

“I’m here for the play…?” 

You drew back, needing a moment to breathe as you squinted your eyes to study him. It was rare for you to get a client like him, wealthy, but so uncertain, a charm about him that you couldn’t quite pin. They were never as handsome either, most far older than you, willing to throw cash at a younger, beautiful woman. 

Questions raised at the back of your mind, desperate to be asked, but you ignored them, beaming as you angled your head. “Ah. Of course. The play.” Your voice was saccharine, octaves higher than your usual volume. “What is my role, then?” you asked, tugging off his tie as you leaned into him, your lips just barely brushing his own. His breath was hot against your mouth, a hint of cheap alcohol still lingering on his breath. “I’m far too used to being the seductress, but I can be the damsel in distress, if you’d prefer that.” 

“Your role…” It was said more to himself than anything, not stopping you as your fingers began to unbutton his starched white shirt. You tilted your head forward, noses brushing together as you rested your forehead against his. 

The air grew warm between you, and for a moment, a beautiful, fleeting second, you lost yourself. Your grip on his top grew slack, fingertips caressing the warm expanse of his chest. He breathed into your mouth, and your eyes fell shut, letting him connect his lips to your own, the moment exploding in a rush of beautiful, ruby fireworks. 

And you were keen, then, to let him do whatever he would have wanted, his touch so featherlight and gentle, you wondered if you could have fallen in love with him. How quickly your heart, coated in steel and another layer of iron, betrayed you, dropping from your own chest right into the palms of the man that you needed as a savior.

But the moment did not last so long, and your vulnerability evaporated as quickly as the layer of dew beyond la Seine. As if coming back to himself, he choked, pulled away from your lips and pushed you back by the shoulders, staring at you with wide eyes and warm, tinted cheeks. 

You paused, watching as he rushed to his feet like he couldn’t get up fast enough. How easily the mood had soured, even as he muttered one apology after another, unable to meet your gaze. 

The Duke’s hands were shaky as he held the cigarette to his mouth, eyes fixated on the ceiling. He had plucked the same one back up from the ashtray, the streak of your bold, crimson lipstick imprinted on the end of it.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, hoping the worry wasn’t obvious in your words. If there was a problem, you were desperate to fix it. You couldn’t afford to ruin this, not when so many things were at stake.

He hesitated, another cloud of smoke leaving his mouth as he waved his hand around, ash falling from the cigarette. “I’m sorry — I’m sorry. I can’t focus when you’re,” he swallowed, cheeks burning, despite the hardness very obvious in his pants, “looking at me like that.” 

“Focus?” you said in gentle confusion, eyebrows pinched tighter, as the beginnings of a dreadful realization dawned upon on you. 

Feeling discarded on the bed, you sat and watched as he pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket, straightening like it was an important doctrine, before clearing his throat, and reciting a beautifully composed poem. 

The words were horrifically romantic, each line strung into another as if they had been pieced together by his very own heartstrings. And though you had not processed a single word, it had still struck a cord down deep in your weathered heart, and you continued to stare, sick with your own shame. 

It was beautiful — hauntingly so — a poem of love that could rival even the greatest of French writers. But, all you could think about was the pounding in the back of your mind, the panic steadily rising up within you.  

“You’re here for a play. An actual play,” you said stupidly, gaping back at him, your entire body going rigid with embarrassment. “You’re serious.” No longer was your tone beautifully high-pitched, innocent despite your sensuality. It had lowered in horror, your eyes going wide as you realized that all of this was a terrible, terrible misunderstanding.

Which seemed a lackluster reaction to whatever he was looking for, and he frowned, tilted his head back before heavily inhaling another puff of smoke. “Well, I suppose I would prefer that sort of reaction to hearing that my writing is awful. The play wasn’t my idea, just for the record.” 

“Writer?” you screeched, scrambling to your feet. “You’re not a Duke? Not the Duke?” 

His eyebrows lifted, searching your face for any hint of a joke, and when he found none, he laughed, face splitting beautifully with a smile. He gestured to himself like he was amazed you would even think so, his suit hardly of the latest fashions, the cufflinks a dulling silver. 

Which, in hindsight, was truly a marvelous mistake. 

“No, I am not a duke.” His forehead wrinkled, and he, finally, stamped the cigarette out on the ashtray, subtly putting the stub back into his pocket. “Is that why you thought I couldn’t speak French? Je viens de Paris. I thought that was obvious.” Once more, he laughed, smiling in a manner that was far too out of place for the situation. Then, just as dramatically, his face fell, eyes going wide with concern. “Hold on. Did you not know that I would be here?” 

“No!” you exclaimed, putting your finger to his chest as you shot forward, glaring with the heat of a thousand suns. Your features morphed into something horrible, though you doubted it was as intimidating as you hoped. “No, I have been waiting on a Duke, not some amateur, impoverished writer from this dreadful city I regret ever stepping foot in. And if you tell me that you’re another one of Luffy’s tragic bohemian protégés—”

He smiled sheepishly, tilting his head before you could even finish your sentence. “Well. First of all, I wouldn’t say I’m an amateur.”

Your hands flew to your mouth, a sound leaving your throat in dismay as another voice — the exact voice you were hoping not to hear — called out from the window. 

“Sanji!” Luffy said, a headful of black hair falling over the side, grinning at both of you. “How’s it going? Have you convinced her yet?” 

“No!” you shouted, already rushing towards the window, shooing Luffy away. Over and over you repeated the word, Luffy merely swinging back and forth from whatever rope he’d tied himself to, more amused than anything “Get out of here, Luffy! I should’ve known it was you that put him up to this.” 

For years, Luffy had been trying to recruit you, hoping you'd be an actress in one of his performances, and that the Moulin Rouge would be the place that funded it.

With his endless confidence, Luffy was certain that one day, he would create the best production in the history of Paris. But you were certainly skeptical of his ideas ever taking off, Buggy even more-so, and he refused to put even a single franc towards funding any of Luffy's productions.

Despite the rejection, you continued to get pestered, Luffy somehow convinced that he could help you become an established actress quicker than your current occupation could.

Luffy laughed, still with the audacity to ask if you liked Sanji’s writing, and you pushed his head back out the window, muttering profanities to yourself. 

“Who’s with you? Usopp? Zoro? I’m going to kill all three of you!” 

You yelled that last bit louder, just to be sure the two men you knew were up on the roof could hear you as well. And, just as expected, a muttered string of words escaped Zoro, and a much louder, panicked sound came from Usopp. 

They peeked their heads into the window with Luffy. 

“I tried to stop him,” Usopp said, wailing as Zoro hushed him, his dark eyes clouded with regret. “I knew it was a horrible plan, I’m so sorry.” 

Your lips drew into a thin line, unconvinced, despite all the theatrics. “I want you all out! Get back up there before—” 

Footsteps started up the stairs, and your eyes went wide, panicked as the voices of Buggy and the Duke, the real duke, started up the stairs. 

“Leave!” you hissed, shoving Luffy and Usopp back out the window, before turning to face Sanji, who was rather uselessly standing in the middle of the floor. Groaning, you gripped him by the arm, pulling him across the room as you scanned for a good hiding spot. “Hide. I need you to hide. He can’t see you.”  

“What’s going on?” Sanji asked. “Luffy told me—”

You released a sharp laugh, rolling your eyes. “Oh, I’m certain Luffy told you a lot of things,” you huffed, letting your hand slip down into his own as you dragged him into a corner of the room. “Unfortunately, Luffy’s plans are sometimes too grand, and he needs someone to bring him down to Earth. Which you, clearly, did not do and now—”

Your name was called out from behind the door, and you cursed, pushing Sanji into the corner of the room, near the vanity. “Stay there. Just… hide under something!” 

“Where?” 

But the door was already opening, and you scrambled into a chair, running your fingers across your hair to make sure you seemed somewhat presentable. You brought your legs up under you, lowering your gaze to bat your eyelashes as the Duke and Buggy entered the room, both staring at you with intrigue. 

“Here she is,” Buggy said, gesturing towards you with a curious look in his eye, a dark smile forming on his painted face. There was a warning there, one that you were not foolish enough to ignore. “My beautiful diamond. Hopefully just as lovely as she was up on the stage tonight.” 

The Duke’s regard for you was hardly passionate, though you could see a sliver of desire under all the layers of intimidation. He was a tall man, dark hair falling to his shoulders in thick strands. A long scar ran across his cheekbones, over the bridge of his nose, and he looked down at you, studying every piece of you like you were nothing more than a decoration to admire. 

You waited for him to say something, but it was clear he was waiting for the same, and you stood, perhaps too rapidly, and made your way over to him. 

“Monsieur, what a pleasure it is to meet you,” you smiled, if only to ease the anxiety strung through your body. Dipping your head, you looked back up at him with siren eyes, “Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to visit.”

The Duke paused for another moment, studying you before taking your hand, and kissing it softly. It was a soothing gesture, despite the intensity of his eyes. Tension seeped gradually from your shoulders. 

“The pleasure is mine, my dear,” he said, his voice deep, raspy. “And there’s no need for such pleasantries when we’ll be acquainted soon enough.” His thumb ran across your cheek, before his hand fell back to his side. “I’d prefer Crocodile.”

Buggy, just feet behind the Duke, began to back away, exhaling in relief. “Well, I will leave you to it, then. And—”

That was all he could get out, as the scene shattered. 

Before Buggy could make his escape, a sound came from the window, a yelp, then an echoing shout, as Luffy, Usopp and Zoro fell down from the window, swinging into the room from the dangling rope. They landed in a somersaulting heap, just inches from where Sanji had been hiding, and your jaw slackened, before your entire body stiffened once more. 

Not a word rang through the room as you stared at the three of them, Crocodile sliding his gaze over to you for an explanation. The silence was tangible, heavy with uncertainty. 

A nervous laugh left Buggy, but it was quickly cut off as Usopp pulled both Zoro and Luffy up by their coats, and exclaimed, “Are you ready for rehearsal?” 

“Rehearsal…” you muttered, and at the same time, Crocodile posed the words as a question, his eyes narrowed, unamused.

“I wasn’t aware that there were other things going on this evening,” he said.

“Ah,” you continued, keeping yourself composed as you moved to stand in front of him. “Non, there’s nothing going on we just…” Internally you cursed, over and over, glancing at Buggy, who was near to shouting at Luffy, the two of them locked in a stand-off. There would be no help from any of them it seemed, as they waited for your reaction.

You placed a gentle hand on the shoulder of Crocodile, softening your expression into one of expectation. “Well, I know this isn’t what you had in mind, monsieur, but we thought now would be a good time to introduce you to our new production… Right, Buggy? While we’re all here together, of course. A once in a while opportunity.” 

You smiled, eyes narrowing exaggeratedly at Buggy, before the obvious question became clear to him. 

“Oh,” he nodded slowly, before bursting into the same smile he always used for your shows. “Right. Of course. Our new show—”

“Which, we have written specifically for you, Sir, if you would be so keen on investing.” You took Crocodile’s arm gently, leading him past the chair where Sanji was hiding, hopeful he would reacquaint himself with the rest of the troupe. And, as if reading your mind, Sanji scrambled to his feet, standing alongside Zoro and Usopp like he’d been there all along.

You exhaled softly, continuing to the Duke, “It was going to be a surprise, but we supposed it would be best for you to see it now, before we started any production. You are so wise with your investments, we didn’t want to be presumptuous.” 

Crocodile gave you an odd look, and for a moment, you weren’t sure he believed you. Then, you flashed him a hopeful smile, naive under all the great bravado, and he relented, amused by your earnestness. 

“Well, I am not usually interested in investing in such small ordeals, but…” He waved a hand, before running the other down the breadth of your spine, a touch that was near possessive. “If it stars our lovely diamond, it is sure to be a hit, no?” 

You relaxed, making a show of leaning into his advances. 

“Of course,” Buggy proclaimed, far too intense for your liking, as he tried to ease the Duke back out of the Elephant Room. “Would you like to get started on paperwork? How about we work out the details, and we’ll find another evening for you and—”

Crocodile raised a hand, the room swiftly silenced. “I need to know the story first, before we handle business. Not even the most beautiful of stars can carry a dying universe, I’m afraid.” He turned to you, his eyes so intense it was hard to muster up the courage to speak.

“Story?” You blinked, your smile falling. “Yes. Right. The story. Well, that’s an excellent question, and you would be certain to ask that, of course…” You looked to Buggy, then Usopp, who seemed all too happy to blend in with the shadows. Then to Zoro, who stood stiffly, and shrugged. Finally, your eyes landed on Luffy, who was grinning wildly and pushing Sanji forward, far too excited that this was all taking place.

“Here’s our writer,” Luffy proclaimed, patting Sanji on the back before taking a step away and crossing his arms. “Go on and tell them.” 

Which was a way to say the play hasn’t been written yet, and we’re making this all up as we go, in less obvious words. 

You wanted to melt into the floor, curl away from the hot palm that still rested on the small of your back, as you stared at Sanji helplessly, begging him to come up with an answer. 

And while the time seem to pass far too slowly for your liking, he didn’t even fumble for words as he nodded to you, dragging his eyes across the audience that was watching him expectantly. 

“It’s about love,” he said smoothly, confidence seemingly regained now that you weren’t the only person in the room. “It’s about love overcoming all obstacles.”

His eyes met yours once again, so deeply blue and beautiful. Against your better judgment, your heart surged out of your chest. 

“Yes! And it’s set in Switzerland!” Luffy exclaimed, laughing with delight. 

“No, no,” Sanji snapped, before recovering his story, mind working rapidly as he thought up a tale that would be imaginative enough to spark the interest of the Duke. “It’s set on the seas!” Then he lowered his overexcited voice, the words softening with adoration. “And there’s a courtesan. The most beautiful courtesan in the world.” 

Sanji's gaze fixed on you, and you blinked away, hating that awful feeling that bloomed in your heart. Still, a small smile tugged at your lips, one that you hid from everyone else. 

“But,” he said, tearing his attention away from you. “Her city’s been invaded by an evil pirate Warlord. Now, in order to save her kingdom, she has to seduce the evil Warlord. But, on the night of her seduction, she mistakes a penniless… A penniless…” He looked around helplessly, licking his lips. “A penniless cook, and she falls in love with him. He wasn’t trying to trick her, but he was dressed as a prince because… well… he was trying to infiltrate the Warlord’s headquarters.” 

“And I will play the captain of the crew that the cook works on!” Usopp interjected, taking a step in front of Sanji, his arms raised high with excitement, far too proud of himself. 

You coughed down a laugh as Crocodile regarded him with an impatient look. “Alright... What happens next?”

Sanji spared a quick scowl to Usopp, before regaining the attention of everyone in the room, weaving each word with precision. “Well, the cook and the courtesan, they are to hide their love from the evil Warlord—”

“With the help of their actual Captain, who has magical powers where he’s made out of rubber!” Luffy, this time, decided to add his own artistic storytelling, which silenced the entire room from skepticism.

Sanji blinked, hesitant. “Yes, well, that part’s still in the works,” he promised Crocodile, waving his hand dismissively. “There’ll be a crew, with a swordsman and a navigator… and of course the Warlord will have his own set of pirates working for him. It’s a grand production, the embodiment of the Bohemian ideals…” 

Sanji continued the story, crafting a plot of truth, beauty, freedom and love. But you were focused only on him, the passion with which he spun the tale, softening at the tragic romance that would take place between the courtesan and the cook. Every so often, your eyes would meet, and you would smile, if only slightly, with encouragement, enough to keep up his unwavering confidence until the end. 

"The finale hasn't been written yet,” he admitted, wrapping up his summary of the unfinished play, as the rest of you huddled around Crocodile for a reaction, his face dreadfully unreadable. “But—”

“We would love to get you involved artistically,” Buggy interrupted, excited by the prospects of the thrilling production and an investor. “If you have any suggestions.” 

A tense ten seconds passed, as Crocodile regarded each one of you, thoughtful. “The story could use some work,” he mused. “But, generally I like it.” 

An eruption of cheers burst out from each of you, and you smiled, giggling as you leaned into the Duke, hopeful that your gratitude was evident. Across the room, Sanji relaxed, lighting up another cigarette, and Buggy gestured forward, talking at such a rapid speed you were certain his words were slurring together. 

“Come, come with me,” he said, ushering Crocodile out of the room. “We’ll talk business.” 

Crocodile followed, but spared one last moment for you, as you followed the two men to the door, guiding him out. 

“I apologize that our evening together was different than anticipated,” you said, as genuinely as you could, tracing a hand down his chest. “Perhaps another night would be best for us to talk.” 

“Perhaps.” He hummed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his smile widening crookedly. “I still need to get acquainted with our star. Fame will suit you, my dear.” 

You smiled, a surge of pride overcoming you, one so strong that you couldn’t even wallow in the discomfort of his touch. “I look forward to it.” 

The two of you parted, the moment evaporating as Crocodile followed Buggy out the door. And, when it finally slammed shut behind the two of them, you exhaled, all of the anxiety leaving your body in a flush. 

The four other men went silent as you whirled on them, expressions dour as they waited for you to be the first to speak. Sanji’s jaw was tight as he looked away from the door, back to you, regarding you with an unreadable expression.

But, you were still reeling on your success, too excited to care about the anger you’d felt earlier. You broke into a cheerful grin, rushing to throw your arms around the young ring-leader. “Luffy,” you said, close to weeping. Things weren’t over yet, but there was a parting in the clouds, a sun shining through, as the hope of a future, a better one, became real. “Thank you. For the first time, one of your ridiculous plans actually worked. I’m very grateful.” 

He smiled like it was nothing, and your laughter became infectious, bubbling out of you in an effort to keep down your tears. You turned to the other two, both watching you curiously. 

“Usopp, thank you for that wonderful recovery. I’m not sure what we would have done if you’d not planned an emergency rehearsal.” 

He grinned wide, puffing his chest out. “Ah, well, I knew someone had to act fast.” 

Lastly, you turned to the green-haired man, and his name sooner died on your lips, when you realized he had contributed very little. “Zoro. You were useless actually.” 

Sanji snorted, and though Zoro’s face twitched, he didn’t bother saying anything to the writer. “You looked like you had it handled.” He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Well. I suppose we did.” You rolled your eyes, your mood suddenly deflating. The high of panic and elation had worn on you, leaving you with an ache in the back of your head, your hands still jittery. “Anyway, I’ve just about had all the fun I can handle for one night—”

“Uh-huh,” Zoro scoffed, a jab at your rather unconventional occupation.

You ignored him, pushing them all towards the door. “—I am very grateful for your help in getting our new investor, but we’ve got a busy week ahead, and I would like some rest. So, leave.” 

They all held their hands up in surrender, and while Sanji hadn’t been a part of the group you’d been addressing, he slowly followed when Luffy called out to him. There was talk of throwing a party across the street, at the dingy apartment complex that all the Bohemians lived in, despite it being late already.

The four of them made to leave, waving enthusiastically as they rushed down the stairs, far too worked up to be quiet. Sanji lagged behind them, giving you a kind smile before making his exit, a soft bonne nuit, escaping his lips.

“Sanji…” You called out, just before he closed the door behind him, his hand resting on the frame. Sanji turned, glancing over his shoulder, bright eyes pinning you right where you stood. “I’m sorry. So very sorry for the misunderstanding.” You waved your hand, drawing your fingers across your face to rest on your cheeks, already warm with shame. “I feel horrible.”

He paused, before a a grin split his face, irises burning with soft intensity. “Don’t,” he said, exhaling a laugh. “I enjoyed it, actually.” 

thank u so much for reading and for all the endless support!! i appreciate you all so very much ♡(˃͈ દ ˂͈ ༶ )

tagging those who rb'd / commented <3 pls let me know if you'd like to be added !

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[yuutaok]

₊˚⊹♡ Puppy! Yuuta has been rotting the brain for sometime ♡

Yuuta is so sweet and excitable. He’s such a good boy, always listening to your commands and rarely ever misbehaves. Yuuta’s is your best boy. He’s always there to keep you company when you’re in a mood. Yuuta is kind and comforting, you never know what you’d do without him. He’s your world.

₊˚⊹♡ Content Warning: 18+, MDNI (minors do not interact), afab! reader (genitalia described), Yuuta is your dog boy, possessiveness, knotting, creampies, slightly dubcon, idk man this is incredibly self-indulgent

Yuuta is a reliable pup, the protective type. He’s the kind to be wary about strangers and is always ready to step in between you and others he doesn’t know. He keeps you safe, always making sure to keep a keen eye on your surroundings when you’re out. Yuuta bares his teeth only when he needs to.

Of course, Yuuta’s a very good boy, but god, is he a mess once his hormones kick in. He can’t bear to have any one else’s scent even around you. It drives him nuts. If he even notices the slightest bit of someone else’s scent he can’t help but latch onto you, like a dog starved.

You knew it would be difficult when his rut began, you did your homework on how to take care of him properly, you swear! But you didn’t think it would be this treacherous.

You didn’t think to expect Yuuta to drag you into his lap, holding you close as he rubs against your face and neck. He nuzzles close to you, arms wrapping around you tightly as he marks you, laying his claim. His tongue slips out to lick all the areas that don’t smell like him, fangs scraping along your neck as he breathes in.

Your heart skips a beat with all of his affections.

“Yuu— Yuuta, cut it out,” You gasp, “Let me run a cold bath for you and get you cleaned up.” You gently try to push your puppy off of you, slowly making your way out of his lap.

“No,” Yuuta growls as he pushes himself further into you, digging his nails into the skin of your shoulders. He holds you tight, making sure to lock his arms to keep you from escaping. It hurt, you didn’t know what to do.

You flush underneath him, heart fluttering and beating right out of your chest.

“You’re mine. You’ve always been mine,” he snarls.

You’ve never had him snap at you like this. You feel goosebumps form on your skin and your hair stand up on the back of your neck.

His canines brush against your skin as he grinds his hips into yours. His clothed erection rutting into your soaked panties as he bites at your jaw, sucking hickeys and love marks into your soft, unmarred skin.

“I’m not going to let you go,” he insists.

Your cheeks feel hot as you sigh at the contact, hips involuntarily grinding back down onto his dick. It’s been a minute since you’ve had this kind of touch and affection, with life being so unexpectedly complicated.

You revel in it, savor it, even.

Yuuta wraps his strong arms around you, holding you close and pulling you down deeper and further into him. You gasp when he moves to give you a kiss, his lips moving against yours as you feel his canines scrape and bite at your bottom lip. You taste iron as he laps at your mouth, panting hot breaths as you feel yourself melt into him.

It’s hard to deny him what he so desperately wants. He’s your boy, isn’t he?

Yuuta’s hands slide down your body, groping and allowing himself to savor every touch he can manage. His grasp is urgent, rough, and desperate. He slides his hands up to your breasts as he starts to rub against your pussy, panting hot breaths against your neck as he tries to relieve the heat in his pants. You feel yourself become wetter as you two rut against each other.

“Please… Please, c-can I have you? Can you take care of me?” He whines hoarsely, desperately seeking any sort of friction to fill the ache in his gut. His blue eyes become dewy and wet with what you think are tears.

You bite your lip, feeling so sorry for your pup.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll take care of you, Yuu. I’ll make it better.”

Yuuta breathes out a sigh of relief as you move to pull him off the couch back to your bedroom. You sit him down on the bed and he urgently grasps at you to paw at your clothes. You help him strip you bare as he kicks off his sweats and shirt. Your hand reaches behind his neck, pulling him by his dog collar as you move to give him a kiss. You feel Yuuta melt into you.

The two of you become an entangled mess of wandering hands and sloppy kisses. Yuuta felt so familiar in your arms, though new in this particular experience.

You found yourself situated between his bare legs as he laid back on your bed. You snuck a hand down in between the two of you to stroke at his weeping cock, his tip leaking beads precum down to the hilt. You thumb at the head of his member as you watch him cry out and hump himself into your hand.

You hum gently, “Are you my good boy? Are you gonna be good for me?”

“Yes! Yes I’ll be so good for you. I’ll do anything,” Yuuta says through flushed cheeks and teary eyes, sensitive and overwhelmed from your teasing. You continue as he snaps his hips forward into your hand, desperate for relief of any kind.

“There he is. That’s my puppy. My Yuuta,” you smile, “Yuu… Can you tell me what you need?

He cries out, “I want it… inside..! I need to put it inside… It hurts.” Yuuta looks up at you, pleading. You glance down at his cock, it was flushed red and looked almost painful. Sitting at the hilt was his thick knot that you weren’t so sure would go down so easily. But, you’d do anything, if it was for Yuuta.

“Okay,” you breathe out.

You move to settle yourself onto him, hand balancing on his chest. Your other hand snaking down to spread yourself. Your fingers slick feeling how wet you were between your folds. Your breath hitches as you slowly try to move yourself onto his tip, gently sinking down his length.

Yuuta settles his hands on your sides, digging his nails into your thighs as he feels your walls begin to hug his dick. He growls, deep in his chest, at how slowly you’re making your way down. You watch as he bites his lower lip.

Yuuta can’t help but buck further into your messy cunt, hands and nails pulling you down so you’d sink further onto him. You think he breaks skin.

“A-ah… Yuu… Not so much…” you breathed out, “I need a moment—“ but oh, now you were being flipped over.

Yuuta bares his canines as he towers over you, pushing himself deeper into you, thick cock splitting your tight core open. Your eyes widen as you look up at your pup.

Yuuta’s eyes look deeply apologetic into yours as he pushes into you, “‘m sorry, ah, sorry sorry, you just feel so good. I need more, I want more,” he chokes as he fits himself snuggly between your legs.

You moan out weakly, air leaving your lungs and seeing stars behind your eyes as he opened and filled you up. Your hands grasp and claw at his shoulders as you take him in, gritting your teeth as he pushes himself to the very hilt.

Yuuta looks down and marvels at your cunt filled to the brim with him. His ears perk up and you feel his tail wag as your walls settle to his length. Your puppy can’t help but lean down to kiss and lick at your lips, grinding his dick into your pussy and beginning to slowly slide in and out of you.

You moan, overwhelmed with all the stimulation. You feel so stretched, open, and full of Yuuta. Your nails dig into his broad of his shoulders as he begins a more vigorous pace, Yuuta panting out, “Mm— feels good— your pussy feels so good, can’t wait—“.

You whine and throw your head back, bringing an arm to shyly cover your face as Yuuta continues to pound into you. Your puppy grabs your arm and pins it back down onto the bed, “No! Want to see your face… Wanna see you cum,” he growls. He uses his other arm to pin your leg up over his shoulder, forcing himself even deeper into your cunt, hitting that special spot that makes sparks fly behind your eyes.

“Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta,” you chant as you feel yourself getting closer and closer while Yuuta fucks into your dripping pussy. He whispers your name, moaning as he watches you writhe underneath him. Everything felt so lewd, from the way he had you open, to the wet noises that were coming from your intimacy, it was all so obscene.

You feel the heat build up in your core, your walls clenching and clenching as you get closer to cumming. You whimper out, bouncing yourself back onto Yuuta to try and get more friction, “ ‘m close puppy, so close, gonna cum..!” You cry out, toes curling into the soaked sheets.

Yuuta takes your cries as the sign to rut deeper and faster into you, coaxing your orgasm. You sob as you feel your insides tighten around his cock, vision blurring as you soak his length.

Yuuta bites his lip at the sight of you, looking down at you lovingly as you tighten around him. You look at him with dewy eyes and the most fucked out expression. You see him smile.

“So cute…! You’re so cute, wanna cum in you, wanna fill you up, wanna give you my knot..!” Your puppy pants as he grinds into your messy hole, tightening his grip on your plush skin.

You feel your muscles relax, overstimulated, as Yuuta uses your pussy to relieve himself. You weakly whimper, “Cum in me puppy, I can take it. Please…”

He nods as his pace becomes more erratic, his claws digging further and further into your thighs as he reaches his climax. “‘M cumming! ‘M cumming—“ Yuuta moans and you feel him push himself deeper and deeper into you, until ‘pop!’, you feel the round hilt of his knot settle into your cunt and his dick twitch, letting out hot ropes of his seed. You moan softly as you feel his cum gush out of your hole, too fucked out to really care.

Your puppy sighs and lays down protectively on top of you, knot still connected as he snuggles into your neck, and peppering you with licks and kisses as you move your hand to pet his the soft black locks on his head.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Yuuta dreamily mutters as he inhales your scent mixed in with his, finally content.

“Good boy,” you whisper softly, “I told you I was gonna take care of you.”